It Knows Nothing of Whim

[Stark†]

((R.J. Lowe continued from Where Do You Go From Here?))

05:41 AM

The last time R.J. Lowe had a full night's sleep, it was under a sedative.

Sure, he'd nodded off a couple times throughout the night, but never long enough to achieve REM sleep. Never long enough to have those nightmares about Eva again. Exhausted as he was after a day spent traveling, with only brief stops to eat and shit, he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. The reasons for this were manifold:

1. What he'd done to Eva. There was truth to Isaiah 48:22, that there was no rest unto the wicked, and what he'd done was definitely wicked. He could try and justify it all he wanted, that she shot first, but the fact was that he still shot second. That he'd taken a girl's life long before her time. There was no forgiveness for that, in R.J.'s mind. Not even if God Himself forgave him, would he ever forgive himself.

2. It was dark. It might have sounded silly to anyone else, but ever since reading House of Leaves, R.J. was fucking terrified of the dark. And it wasn't just any dark in those tunnels; it was that same thick, creeping darkness that could well have been considered a being unto itself. It fed on his hatred of uncertainty, his fear of what lurked just outside his peripheral vision. Because now, everything did. It fueled the paranoia inherent in being trapped on this island. The only assurance that the head that lay in his lap was whose he thought was the comfortingly familiar sounds of her snoring.

3. Oh, yeah, Mary-Ann snored. Loud. Like, it reminded him of Elizabeth, that loud.

4. And on that note, there wasn't much R.J. could do to protect her in his sleep. If he heard anything, he had the flashlight and pistol at the ready. Tired though he was, he needed to stay at attention in case someone, or perhaps worse, something - there was a bear on this island, after all - made their presence known. Her safety was his primary concern.

His stomach ached. There was no way they'd be able to survive on the rations they were provided, and the effects of that were already kicking in. Hopefully the girl using him as a pillow wouldn't be awakened by the rumblings of his digestive system. One of them, at least, deserved to rest peacefully. Gently, he ran a hand through her hair. It took a couple tries to find it in the darkness, though, but when he did, it was comforting. Even if he couldn't see her, she was cute when she slept. In its own bizarre way, the snoring only added to that. It brought back memories of when they first met, or at least, when they first spoke to each other. They were in the school library between classes, and she fell asleep at the table where he'd been reading. Don't snore too loud was even the first thing he said to her.

Typed.

Either way.

A lot had changed since then, more of it in the last few days than in the months prior. They would never change back, even if they both made it back alive. Both of them had seen things no one their age should have to see. R.J. was already a killer. 40 of their classmates had died in two days, all told, and it was likely more had gone the same way in the ensuing 23-plus hours. At that rate, there was no question. Something had to be done to put a stop to this, but damned if R.J. knew what. Even if he knew, however, could he be the one to do it?

Well, he'd sure as hell try.

Sitting back against the rough walls of the tunnels, he shut his weary eyes. Maybe I should just sleep on it.

06:59 AM

"...a further twenty-three of your peers have bitten the dust. Outstanding, kiddies. Simply outstanding."

Hardly the words R.J. had hoped to awaken to. Then again, it was going to be like this every day, wasn't it? The young man listened intently as the names were read off. First, a suicide. Then, a third kill for Maxwell Lombardi. He'd have to watch out for Britons, he guessed. Albert Lions, killed by Kris Hartmann. One he definitely could have prevented. A death by snakebite. A terrible pun. One of those triplets murdered Jackson Ockley... somehow. R.J. didn't get Danya's joke, and he didn't think too hard on it. Maxwell Lombardi again. He'd need to be stopped, somehow. Find someone who knows what he looks like. Quincy Jones, whoever that was, was playing, then Janet... what? He was nearly as puzzled by her surname as he was by her cause of death, which, again, but for different reasons, he didn't linger on. Sarah Atwell struck again, as did Rachel Gettys. Big surprise there. Hayley Kelly, Clio Gabriella, and Claire Lambert were named as individuals to watch out for, which would help if R.J. knew any of them, while Deidre Paul succumbed to the swamp. Simon Fletcher-

No.

Not Simon Fletcher.

They'd met up on the first day. It was Simon's issued weapon that R.J. now carried. He remembered intending to return it, even. He thought he told him not to die, dammit! They were supposed to get out of this mess! There was no way... this couldn't be happening. R.J. gazed wide-eyed in abject horror into the inky blackness as the realization dawned on him - Simon had given him his gun. R.J. used that gun to kill. Simon had, if Danya was being truthful, asked to be killed.

Because of his own actions, Simon was dead.

The pitch-dark tunnels were filled with the sound of a haunting, breathy hiss, that anyone who knew R.J. Lowe would recognize as screaming.

[T-Fox†]

((Rekka Saionji continued from The Various Downsides of Becoming "Paranoid as Balls".))

((Any GMing approved by Stark.))

Having run straight north from the eastern side of the fun fair, Rekka had it dead set in his mind. He needed a gun, or something a little more effective than just a pair of fake knives. His journey had been mostly silent, stopping only just outside of the house of mirrors for a moment to stop and eat a bit of the bread that the terrorists had provided. There had been some sounds coming from just inside of the door outside which he sat, a couple of female voices; not that he could make out the words. It was a hall of mirrors after all, the entire point was for it to be a fucking maze. Either way, the girls both sounded terrified out of their minds. And no one with a gun would be that scared. Either that or if they were there would be the sound of a couple of shattering mirrors. Useless to him.

And frankly, the place gave him the fucking creeps. It was seriously strange, how something he assumed would have been part of the fun fair was so far north.

Either way, he traveled through the night, not stopping again, just searching for signs of life. Someone he could sneak up on, steal their gun, end their life, and move on. Didn't matter whether the bastard deserved it or not, they were just a means to an end. The trench-coat rustled in the evening breeze as he finally made his way to a seemingly man-made cavern just north of the house of mirrors.

"Huh, maybe there's some poor sap in here that's got somethin' I need."

It was gonna at least be dark as hell, great for sneaking up on people. And it's not like he was without good night vision, on the contrary. His night vision was absolutely stellar thanks to years of working with his father at night back before he got into this lifestyle.

And so he crept in, stashing his massively oversize trench-coat into his backpack as he went. Last thing he needed was to trip over himself and give away where he was hiding.

It didn't take long at all for the tunnel to get ridiculously dark, almost to the point where Rekka couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Jesus, you'd think the SOBs that made this place woulda' at least thought to put in a lantern or two.

Lost in his thoughts of exactly how to go about this to please his adoring fans on the other side of these cameras, Rekka completely lost track of time. Which was evidenced when he heard a very familiar voice crackle on from seemingly nowhere.

"Kids, when I first looked through the dossiers we have on you guys, I was thinking no way no how were a bunch of saps like you going to provide much of a spectacle. I'm ever so glad you've all proved me so completely wrong."

A smirk crossed his face. "Just wait." He whispered to himself just before the names actually were called. "Soon I'll be hearing my name all across the island." It was everything he could do to stifle a laugh, he was already completely giddy with excitement. Not a single name that was read made a bit of difference to him, and that honestly was gonna make what he was about to do that much easier. Upon the final announcement of the danger zones, he wiped his brow, the tunnel suddenly feeling significantly hotter than it actually was. His thoughts fell back to Dawne. Not just Dawne though, but his mind's version of what she had been. Every time he thought of her, he now saw her in some sort of era getup. Thinking back to Bayview, thinking back to the greens, he saw her in a flapper dress, or in a cloche hat, something. And even though something about this didn't quite feel right to him for whatever reason, even though he knew it had to be, it just didn't.

However, the next sound that filled the tunnels quickly made him forget that feeling.

And then he heard some... some kind of fucked up hissing sound coming from just a bit deeper in the tunnel. "What da' fuck?" He had no idea what that noise was, or who was making it, but all he knew is that the kid wasn't right if that was coming from somebody. It was almost oppressive, the sound surrounding him, constricting him, bearing down on his being. But with a morbid curiosity he crept around the corner. Was it possible for something like that to get louder? Either way it sure as hell sounded like it, and a pair of figures appeared in front of him as he rounded yet another corner in these long, twisting caverns. Nothing but silhouettes against an equally dark background, he could only identify that they were most definitely human. One of the two seemed to actually be managing to catch a little shut-eye, but the other was sitting straight up like a jackrabbit and his mouth was agape.

But even with such little light echoing through the tunnel, he could see... something on the ground. Something that as he moved just a bit closer, glinted from a stray ray of light emanating from somewhere down here. And that glint was all he needed to at least give this a shot. If that was a gun, then he had this shit.

Alright, Rekka, don't fuck this up. Everyone's watchin', you can do this.

He took a deep, silent breath, and crept forward, step by step, watching to make sure that this kid didn't turn back around on him.

Every single step which echoed only a padded plop sounded like a gunshot going off to him. But the kid didn't move and the broad didn't wake up.

Holy shit, I'm doin' it!

Only a few steps away.

Yeah, that was definitely a gun.

Almost there...

He slowly reached a hand out for the gun, lying unprotected on the ground. Inching his fingers closer and closer to the cold steel weapon, his heart raced, his mind was awash with thousands upon thousands of incoherent thoughts.

Paydirt.

His fingers brushed across the cold steel, and he quickly jumped back with the weapon in hand, uncaring as to whether or not his first victim heard him anymore.

"Kid, I don' know who you are, but you're a godsend baby." He smirked, although his facial features were all but a shadow in this almost supernatural darkness. "You know how much time an' effort you saved me by just leaving this pretty little thing lyin' on the ground? Now I ain't gotta whack someone with these pieces o' shit." A couple of soft clangs as the shitty makeshift knives hit the ground. "And honestly, even though you've done me such a favor, you're still not a part of da' family. Looks like I gotta off ya..." He flicked his fingers over the sides of the gun, feeling for a safety...

Click.

His smirk curled into an almost sadistic grin, as he pressed the weapon into his right palm. "If ya' got any last words you wanna say, say em' now. Cause tonight? You're gonna be sleepin' with da' fishes."

Heh, yeah. That was a good one.

And he began slowly bringing the gun to bear, struck by the incredible lack of a male voice in the cavern.

[Stark†]

((Really, all GMing between these two is planned out. Saying that now to save time.))

Footsteps.

They weren't alone.

They were still a ways off, but getting closer. R.J. felt around for his gun, still hoping he wouldn't need to use it. Nothing. He'd need to get up and look. He reached for a bag, it didn't matter which, to rest Mary-Ann's head on, so as not to disturb her.

"Kid, I don' know who you are, but you're a godsend baby."

Whoever was approaching, he was now standing right over them, and he'd launched into a monologue. R.J. fucking hated monologues. However, this was slightly different - the guy was monologing about how he had his gun. About how he was going to kill them. And that? That made something in R.J. snap. Mary-Ann was not going to die because he lost his gun to this douchebag. No chance in hell. Taking care not to wake her, he slid the bag under her head. The guy's speech bought him plenty of time to react calmly and rationally. He rose to his feet, slowly marching towards the monster in the darkness.

"If ya' got any last words you wanna say, say em' now."

I said them five years ago, you son of a bitch.

No sooner had the word "fishes" left the other kid's lips, R.J. sprung himself shoulder-first at his foe. With his sight hindered, he'd need to rely on his remaining senses more than ever. He felt the contours of an eye socket wrap around his left elbow. Tasted the bony taste of a loosened second molar before he spat it out into his opponent's face. Heard the distinctive thwack of knuckles against ribs. Smelled that cold, wet, iron smell of fresh blood in a dank cavern. Everything was a blur of pure sensory chaos and two bodies clashed blindly in the dark. It went on for some minutes, and no one had the upper hand. The combatants became messes of black eyes, cracked teeth and broken knuckles. Somewhere along the way, R.J. was flung backwards into the tunnel walls. This, ultimately, was where the tide of the battle shifted.

As R.J. placed his hand in the dirt to push himself back to his feet, he felt something. Something all too familiar to him. Something cold, metallic. Something semiautomatic. Something that had 15 9x19mm Parabellum rounds left. Something his opponent must have dropped in the struggle.

With one swift motion, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the gun, swung it straight out in front of him, steadied his grip with his right hand, fired from the seat of his pants, and hoped he hit something.

[Ella†]

((Mary-Ann Warren continued from Where Do You Go From Here?))

"Kids, when I first looked through the dossiers we have on you guys, I was thinking no way no how were a bunch of saps like you going to provide much of a spectacle."

These words slowly brought Mary Ann out of precious slumber and back into her mortal reality.

It was very cold in the tunnels; in fact, if she was alone she'd have never gotten to sleep. It was the thick, sweet smell of R.J.'s clothes that guided her through the darkness and into her dreams, finding a silent sleep for her mind- but of course, like the rest of her life, Danya had ruined it with his morbid obsession with Bayview Secondary School.

R.J. ran his hand through Mary Ann's hair, around her ears and over her scalp- almost as though he was petting a cat. Mary Ann did not move or open her eyes. She knew that as soon as he knew she was awake, they would start moving again, running from everything on the island that could breathe. She did not want to run right now, not yet...

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop.

Mary Ann was moved, hidden away like jewelry before a robbery. She covered her face with it- Don't wake up don't wake up don't wake up.

"Kid, I don' know who you are, but you're a godsend baby."

I'm asleep. Don't wake up. Don't hurt me. Don't wake up.

More talking. Talking talking talking. Just shut up and kill us, that's obviously what you're going to do here now that you have- the gun. He has the gun. Don't wake up don't wake up.

A struggle. Grunts, something falls, someone falls, someone gets up.

Don't wake up. They won't hurt you if you don't wake up. You didn't see anything if you didn't wake up. Whatever you do, just don't wake-

Bang.

Mary Ann rose with a start and a scream.

I should've woke up.

[T-Fox†]

Just as soon as he had the impulse to level the gun at where the boy was, the figure was gone.

And in an instant, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and he was falling. His mouth fell agape as a bit of spittle shot forward in the initial blow, a sharp, gutteral, howl of pain jerked from his lungs as the shoulder hitting him in the gut knocked the wind out of him.

And even with his better than average night vision; without some frame of reference, he was essentially blind. He could not see a single bit of his foe as he felt something hit him in the eye, pressing back hard as the small orb became misshapen behind the sheer force of R.J.'s elbow. There was a sickening pop that was only audible to Rekka as some of the viscous fluid contained within the instrument of his sight leaked alongside the tears.

He swung back blindly, his fist swinging pointlessly through the air, met quickly by a fist to the side. He yelped out helplessly in pain as he retaliated, kneeing up and swinging his other fist, it finally meeting the jaw of his once victim. A soft 'ptoo' echoed through the tunnels as he felt a firm stinging sensation burn over his forehead. For every action was an equal but opposite reaction, and the reaction of this was a tooth directly into that eye that he had suffered such a blow to not moments before.

He rolled, pressing his opponent underneath of them and throwing blow after blow; some hitting, some not, some still punching into the hard, stony earth on which they were situated. For every blow he landed, he felt a similar one on his body. A sharp pain shot through his side as that rib cracked, blood dripping from his lips onto the body of R.J. Lowe.

"You think you got what it takes to-"

And suddenly he was being unceremoniously dropped face first onto the dirt, a heaving 'oof' echoing through the tunnels as the air was yet again forced from his lungs. A quick spin, and while gritting his teeth against the pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he looked up, seeing absolutely nothing but pitch black.

Time seemed to almost slow. A soft clack of metal touching stone. A click, of a fingernail touching the trigger.

BANG.

A pain even more intense than his ruined eye shot through his leg and straight through the entirety of the right side of his body; momentarily making him forget about the rest of the pain he had endured. His kneecap burned with a fire that he had never felt before in his life, and a loud, almost girlish scream shot from his lungs as he found himself incapable of drawing breath; just from the sheer pain of the ordeal. However within the span of a moment all three of the pains equalized themselves into some sort of cocktail of absolute agony.

"AAGH YOU BITCH!" Was his first retort. With a hurculean effort he swung a foot at where he presumed his attacker to be, unable to see a single thing. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST DIE ALREADY?!" The foot swung, making a soft whiffing sound through the air not two inches from R.J.'s face.

A cough escaped his lungs as that cracked rip scraped on something that was probably important. The pain in his side flared up; hard as his own body's weakness tossed him to the ground, his muscles going limp in shock. "GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN FUCKING KILL YOU!" The clasps on his suspenders rattled softly with metalic clinks as he attempted to flail his way towards his foe, absolutely blind and devoid of any sense whatsoever over the blaring feeling of sheer pain through his entire body.

[Stark†]

A scream. The high-pitched scream of a young woman. Oh no, R.J. thought. No, no, no, no, no, Mary-Ann, no-

"AAGH YOU BITCH!"

Oh. Well, nevermind then.

With another furious battlecry, the beast in the darkness kicked wildly at R.J.'s face, but he didn't flinch. If Mary-Ann was going to survive this, he had to face the darkness head on. The beast flailed about with little rhyme or reason as it stumbled backwards. R.J. rose to his feet, taking slow, patient steps toward the creature writhing in the pitch. He raised the gun to its center. This was it. The moment of truth, and other such cliches. He had to put this thing out of its misery. For Mary-Ann's sake, he had to act. Had to pull the trigger.

He didn't.

He couldn't. The thing wasn't a thing. It was a person. A student, just like him. He wasn't a monster, just a kid. A scared, broken, beaten, wounded kid. He could just picture him lying on the ground before him, and what he saw could only be described as... well, pathetic. He took pity on the boy. Lowered his guard. Dropped the gun to his side. He'd done enough. He'd rendered him harmless. Impotent. There was no need to kill. Not again.

Those were his thoughts before the beast made one more mad dive at his gun.

Oh, how foolish he had been. If one thing could be said definitively of R.J., however, it was that he always learned from his mistakes, and it was a lesson the beast was taught by the butt of a pistol slapping it across the jaw. This creature, this thing, it didn't deserve to be called human. It spoke like a man, but it was nothing more than a wild animal. And R.J.? He'd killed more than a few animals in his time. What was one more? Especially since this was no mere deer; this beast had attacked him first. This monster was ready to kill Mary-Ann, had he not stopped it.

There was no need to let his conscience get in the way, as he raised his foot as high as it would go.

There was no reason to feel remorse, as he brought it straight down with all his might.

An audible cracking sound echoed throughout the tunnels. The beast let out a labored cry, wheezing out various obscenities before R.J. brought his steel-toed boot back, then kicked it straight into the source of the blasphemous noise. You talk too much. He ambled around to the beast's side, and thrust his foot into it once more. Twice more. Thrice more. Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

















A pause. Deep breaths.

























AGAIN.

It continued for minutes on end. Each kick grew more labored as time wore on. His target slowly began to feel less like a solid entity than a fine paste. Its cries had been rendered silent. Its thrashing was replaced with stillness. And as R.J., at long last, came to a halt, he collapsed to his knees, covered in sweat and gasping for air.




All that remained was darkness.

[Hollyquin†]

[[Dustin Royal continued from The Moon Is Laughing At You having been kidnapped by me FOREVVVERRR ...I'm babysitting. >:3

...Please excuse any and all possible egregious breaks from character.]]


Well, fuck.

Lots of walking. Lots and lots of walking alone around goddamn Survival of the Fittest isle. Dustin wasn't sure if he could really be upset about that. Being around people had really not gotten him shit so far. Well, yeah, it had gotten him drama and it had gotten him yelled at and it had gotten him seeing a dead body. And it had almost gotten him laid but he was never ever going to think of that ever again, ever.

Bad enough that the whole world knows. Least I'll never have to hear-

No, he was not going to go there. Fuck if this today wasn't shitty enough without lingering on that whole death thing. Right now he was just going to walk and play guitar in peace and god help anyone who tried to fuck with him right now.

So that's exactly what he did. He walked, and he played guitar, and he sang. And by some miracle, through the work of some sympathetic Casanova-god, he encountered exactly no one. Not a fucking soul. It was like there's been some announcement he'd missed, by the way, everyone, this is where Dustin Royal is going to be, kindly move the fuck out of his way unless you enjoy stab wounds to the face.

But no, announcements were impossible to miss, much as Dustin wished he could ignore them, He kept walking. No direction in mind, he just walked. Presumably there would be something, somewhere, some decently attractive female he could try his luck with. Or just a place to stay the night. He'd be grateful for that, too.

He didn't get his wish. Not until way too late, anyway. It was past dark, way past dark, and he'd wandered for hours in the dark and in a silence that would have been eerie had his guitar not pierced it when he finally came across something that sort of resembled shelter. He'd basically stumbled upon it- no, he'd literally stumbled upon it, tripping on a damn bush and cursing like a madman only to find himself inside a fucking cave or some shit. Considering that the only other place he'd found since leaving town was the mansion- which, as some sort of punishment for god-knew-what, was currently a danger zone- and that being in a hidden cave thing seemed like a better idea than sleeping in a field with shit-all for cover.

Dustin went inside. It was dark as fuck. All things considered he fell asleep far too quickly.

---

BZZZZZZZT-

Well, fuck.

Mostly he was just pissed off at having been woken up. Dustin really, really didn't want to hear the announcements. He caught that there were twenty-three more dead kids and then he blocked it out, chewing on some bread from his pack. The killers aren't going to bother pretending they're fucking normal at this point, he thought. Knowing their names isn't going to do shit if they come out shooting. And since everyone else is listening to the announcements, they'll probably all just assume they're not safe...

Besides, listening to the announcements doesn't always work, eh?

He went back to his guitar. The announcement let the mansion go as a danger zone, opened it back up as a possibility, but he stayed put for now. It was oddly...comfortable in his shady cave. A bit of light snuck in, making the place not completely creepy as shit, but the covering of the foliage made this a damn good place to hide. The mansion on the other hand would probably be full in a couple of hours.

Better to lie low, ri-

BANG.

WHAT THE-

Dustin practically fell over, or rather he would have had he been standing. A gunshot, that's all it could be unless there was some bear or some shit living in this tunnel. Whose roar sounded exactly like a gunshot. Yeah, it was definitely a gunshot. A bear would have been worse anyshut up Dustin you have more important things to worry about!

A gunfight. He wanted no part in this, never bring a sword to a gunfight and all that. The way the bang echoed told him that it was coming from deeper in the tunnel but then why the fuck wasn't he leaving? Paralysis by fear. Pure frozen panic, maybe. But he didn't move.

Dustin heard screams and crunching sounds and moans he never wanted to hear again well maybe the moans but in a different context WHAT THE FUCK DUSTIN PEOPLE ARE SHOOTING EACH OTHER but still. He didn't move.

Maybe if he was really quiet they would go away.

This was a stupid fucking plan and he knew it, but hell if he was gonna move now.

[T-Fox†]

His fists and feet flew through the air without a purpose; his amazing lack of vision now that he was both missing an eye and laying in pitch darkness overcame any night vision he may have once boasted.

In his state of mind, he could not hear his nemisis's footsteps slowly approach.

He could not see his enemy's form as it loomed in the inky black backdrop that the world had set for him; nor the pistol that was pointed directly at his head. The cause of all of this.

However by some absolute miracle, some particle of light from somewhere in the cavern glinted off of the shining black metal of the gun that R.J. held, and directly into the one good eye he had left. It was almost as if some power was showing him the way. It was as if he was being handed the weapon!

So he rolled forward, throwing his weight over his legs as he launched for the gun as it lowered; fingertips brushing the cold steel. And with a loud thud, he planted directly into the unforgiving earth. First his stomach, then the rest of his body. And as soon as his fresh wound met fresh dirt, another shout of sheer pain fired from his mouth. Pure fire crept up his leg and through his entire body, and on an instinct he rolled to his back, lurching the knee towards his chin and cradled it. Gingerly a finger flittered over the wound; and a horrific discovery was made. The bullethole had gone clean through the bone and sinew, exiting the other side. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks from the pain that exuded from his damaged limb.

However the tears were brought on anew as he felt a massive pressure contact his chest, a sickening crack echoing loudly through the cavern. He was ricocheted onto his back, his head bouncing off of the earth as his sternum cracked from the force of his assailant's boot stomping down atop of him. Blood welled in the back of his throat as he attempted to scream, instead nothing but a gurgle and a hiss making it's way from his punctured lungs.

It was truly ironic. In an attempt to kill the one mute student that Bayview had to offer, he himself would spend his final moments unable to say a single word. He would not have his opportunity to make peace, die with a witty one liner, speak his condolences or beg for forgiveness. No, he would go out of this world with a silent whimper; or a silent blub more likely. He began to gasp for air, bringing only blood back into his lungs and out into the rest of his body where it did not belong. However as with every injury before, this became the least of his worries quite quickly as one of the final remaining senses that he still held un-damaged was quickly filled with the taste of leather. And then the taste of pain, if it were to have one. If anything, it tasted alot like blood.

The steel toed boot smashed repeatedly into his face, with each contact another tooth or jaw breaking under the extreme, repeated pressure. A sputter or a cough, some kind of noise reflexively was made with each strike, blood mixing with tears as his entire skull began to cave.

Crack.

CRACK.

CRACK.

Everything had gone black, yet there was respite from the repeated blows to his skull. He couldn't breathe in, he couldn't breathe out. However, he still could think, and with this moment he tried to remember where he went wrong. In spite of the pain that racked every nerve ending in his body, he still had the state of mind to at least assume that had been his death.

CRACK.

Wrong.

Long before R.J. Lowe had completed his viscous assault, Rekka Saionji had lost what little life he clung to. There were no final words, no final thoughts, just silence.

Rekka had always thought that death would be accompanied by the singing of angels, a bright light, something.

Never did he think that all that death would truly be was a sheer, oppresive black.

B100 - Rekka Saionji: Deceased

[Ella†]

So much noise. The cracks and gurgles of broken humanity. The screams that drowned out all other thoughts, all other sensations, all other memories. Mary Ann could not see, or speak, or feel. Try as she might to do something, anything else, the only thing Mary Ann could do was listen to the brutal murder that rang through the tunnels.

Almost at once- she didn't even notice at first- it stopped. Silence left the scene completely still, and only at that point did Mary Ann realize that she was standing. She'd been slowly backing away, clutching the jacket to her face to avoid the smell of blood.

Later, she would chastise herself. She would call herself weak, a coward. She would wonder if she could forgive herself for failing to do anything in the face of danger. She would apologize not only to R.J., but to the young man who'd attacked them... if either of them had survived. There was no way both of them had gotten out of that, after all.

Of course, this was the part where Mary Ann was supposed to call the police and the hospital. Or, since those were unavailable, she was supposed to approach the scene itself. Put band-aids on the cuts and bruises. Clean off the blood. Bring the criminal to justice (this one she skipped past, however, to avoid the debate over who was really the criminal here).

But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

More than ever on this trip, let alone her entire life, Mary Ann was afraid. R.J. could be dead. She would be left empty, more alone than ever, and she would meet her inevitable death several days later by the hand of Kris Hartmann, or Reiko Ishida. Or he could be alive, and they would probably have to live with the fact that he killed someone else- and for her sake.

Those three words shook her more than any she had ever heard (except for maybe last night, but that was different); in fact, they alone were all it took to freeze her in the spot.

Until she heard the footsteps.

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop. Just like before. But it couldn't be him, he wasn't standing.

She felt along the cave wall, finally finding the sword that had followed her so unapologetically until she found R.J. My turn.

She held it with both hands, trying as hard as she could to keep it off the ground and to make as little noise as possible. She might not have known how to use it, but she was going to look like she did. For everyone's sake. She didn't know who everyone was, exactly, but she walked forward, not towards the bodies, but towards the footsteps.

Suddenly, one of the bodies rose, answering one of her questions and forcing a startled gasp from her lips.

Not alone, but never forgiven.

[Stark†]

Out of the darkness, a single, solitary index finger placed itself over Mary-Ann's lips. R.J. could hear what she was playing at, and he'd have none of it. Not here, at least. Carefully, he guided her away from the sound of the footsteps, back to where their belongings were. As quickly as he could manage, he knelt down, proceeding to rifle through the nearest bag for a flashlight.

Moments later, the darkness was finally broken, and what the light revealed was a young man and woman, terror adorning both their faces. If not for the imminent threat posed by the now-silent footsteps, he'd breathe a sigh of relief for her safety. As it was, however, he'd need to save it for later. First concern: replenish their supplies. They were both running low on food, so if their attacker had any left, it would prove invaluable to their survival. He turned the light back towards the body... oh dear God. The body. What had once been another student was no more than a twisted wreckage of flesh and bone, floating in a sea of red. His chest had been visibly caved in, his face... he couldn't make out his face from this angle, but he was afraid to look. Afraid to find out he'd killed someone he knew. As he angled around toward the corpse's bag, he got a better look, only to learn there was no way he'd know until tomorrow morning. His face.

Son of a bitch, where was his face?!

R.J. averted his eyes, but it didn't stop him from vomiting. Water, blood, and stomach acid shot from his mouth to the cave floor as he gasped for breath. He'd done this. He'd so viciously destroyed a life that it was unrecognizable as what it had once been. He'd done this, without any semblance of mercy, sympathy or compassion. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.

Dwell on that later. Just grab his bag and run. Run as far from the sins of your hand as your legs will take you. You may not escape them, but Mary-Ann is still innocent. For her sake, grab everything you can and run. Never let her stray from your sight. Run. Run.

And run they did.

((R.J. Lowe and Mary-Ann Warren continued in Keep Yourself Alive))

[KingKamor†]

(Ridley Landon, continued from Watch Your Step)

Even with a few good-- that's a bad choice of works; more like terrible-- hours of sleep, after the morning announcement, Ridley was far from being in a good mood. At the least, nobody else he knew had died the day before, but it was more of a cold comfort than anything else. The vague map they were provided with did not help matters, either. Nevertheless, he managed to lead the girls into the tunnels.

The deep, dark tunnels.

Ridley had always prided himself in having good vision in the dark, but that was only in places like his bedroom, where bits of light from the moon and stars were still able to stream through the blinds on his window. The darkness the trio had just stumbled into was darker than anything he had ever seen, apart from the light that came in through the entrance.

"Heh. Darker than black..." he whispered to himself with a smirk. "I'm just glad that we got here before too late in the day. You two alright?" He looked back at Raine and Rena. He had neglected to hold Raine's hand during the trip. He felt that if he were brought down to her pace, then they would have been caught in the early morning activities on the island. To him, it was a perfectly logical conclusion to come to regarding their travel time.

"We should rest once we find a good spot. Like, around the corner or something. That might be defensible, right?" He spoke as if he were discussing strategy in chess with them. As he rounded the corner to a place where light from the entrance could not reach, he whipped out his ipod and turned it on. The light from the music player illuminated the rocky walls just enough for allow him access further into the tunnel.

[Casey the Undead†]

((Rena Peters continued from Watch Your Step))

Despite the fact that she'd spent the past few days struggling for her life on a deserted island, Rena was now realizing that these days had fallen into a bizarre routine. Go to a place, meet some people, talk for a bit, maybe a brief spat and a moment where she truly feared for her life, flee the place, get a few hours of sleep, hear the announcements, and move on to the next place. Even the announcements themselves were getting rather routine, as Rena tried to ignore the fact that faces belonged to the name, and pushed aside the twinge in her heart she felt when he thought she recognized a name.

It was getting strangely familiar, and she was certain that that was, indeed, a very terrible thing.

So she did what she always did when something very terrible was occurring- she vehemently ignored it, burrowing deeper into the wonderful hole of denial she had made her home in.

They arrived at the tunnels with little complication, so far as Rena could tell at the very least, and with the knowledge that they had survived another somewhat routine day on this island of death and mayhem.

Of course, there was a problem when they got there that Rena had not entirely accounted for. It was dark. And while she wasn't afraid of the dark, there as something that seemed rather foolish about spending their time in there. It was an easy place to get pounced upon- someone could be hiding anywhere, really. And bumbling around blindly in the daylight was already grating on her patience- bumbling around blindly in the dark just sounded like a death sentence.

"I'm just glad that we got here before too late in the day. You two alright?"

"Fine." Rena could have said that her leg was flaring up again, and was probably scabbing over- but there was no way she'd glance down long enough to find out if that was true. She could have mentioned her fear that she was becoming too used to living on the island. She could have brought up the itching in the back of her throat, the mud and dirt caked on her clothes, the tangles knotted in her hair. But she didn't, simply because there was a time and a place for those complaints, and now really didn't seem like the time.

"We should rest once we find a good spot. Like, around the corner or something. That might be defensible, right?"

Rena nodded, finding the itching in her throat preventing words from escaping her lips. Had it not been so dark, she might have fished in her bag for water, but she instead focused her eyes directly ahead, trying not to bump into anything.

Just follow Ridley. It's worked for you so far, and nothing too bad has happened.

Rena wished she could have glanced back to see how Raine was doing, but the mere thought of pulling her eyes any other direction behind forward caused her to stumble slightly.

Her foot landed in water, and she shuddered quietly, letting her mind imagine what nasty things existed in this tunnel. Against her better judgment, she glanced down in an attempt to wipe the water from her leg.

Her heart stopped. Her eyes widened. A small squeak escaped her throat. She wanted to scream, but no noise besides that one pathetic squeak would escape. She knew she had to do something, say something, make sure that Ridley and Raine knew what was going on-but she was frozen to the spot. She didn't have the energy to scream, or the power to vomit, or the will to move. All she had left was one thought, repeating constantly in her mind.

That's not water...

[chibinanashi†]

((Raine Schwarz continued from Watch Your Step))

Raine had been silent through the whole trek. She didn't know what to say or do, but to follow Ridley and Rena. Looking at them together having survived so far, Raine felt reassured that if anything happens to her, Rena would be able to help Ridley or the vice versa. Having been used to cross country, Raine was able to step among the ground in the tunnels easily. It made her recall memories of running through forests and shallow creeks.

Hearing Rena squeak, Raine touched Ridley's shoulder. "Don't worry Rena, it's probably just water right? I've had it happen before." She merely smiled and knelt down beside Rena to investigate the 'water'. When she touched it, a shiver went down Raine's spine. This wasn't water. "Ridley...Sh-Shine your ipod light over here...Please...J-Just tell me it's not what I think it is..."

Knowing she would regret it. Raine lifted her hand and smelled her finger. "...Smells like..." And her voice simply drifted off as she paled.

[KingKamor†]

Ridley kept his light trained on the path ahead of them. "It's just water, okay? We're in tunnels, so of course there'll be some water or mud here and there."

He had no idea whether it was water or not, but we wasn't about to find out and scare the girls in the process. Hell, he didn't want to scare himself, either. "Come on, let's go." He said that the current area may have been defensible, but if there was truly a dead body or blood sitting around, he didn't want to stay to find out about it.

"Come on, let's go further in, okay?" His voice echoed strongly through the tunnel, probably louder than he had intended, but he continued regardless.

[Casey the Undead†]

((OOC: Is Holly still in this thread?))

"Don't worry Rena, it's probably just water right? I've had it happen before."

That's not water.

"Ridley...Sh-Shine your ipod light over here...Please...J-Just tell me it's not what I think it is...Smells like..."

That's not water.

"It's just water, okay? We're in tunnels, so of course there'll be some water or mud here and there."

That's not water.

"Come on, let's go further in, okay?"

That's not water that's not water that's not water-

"THAT'S NOT FUCKING WATER!" Rena's scream echoed across the tunnels, slamming violently around the enclosed space.

Tears swarmed in her eyes, a feeling of disgust and fear- deadly, paralyzing fear- crawling up her spine.

The beautiful walls of denial she'd been building ever since the start of the "game" were crumbling down. The memories she'd tried so hard to repress were coming back to her, swarming her mind like bees.

Jake had smiled so nicely after he pushed her. But he didn't run. Despite the hideous red liquid pouring out of her face and the pain, and the screams- she'd been screaming so loud- he just stood there, smiling. Like nothing had happened at all. She'd felt his hands on her back, she'd felt herself fall, she felt the sandbox edge slice her under her eye, she felt it- he saw it, but he just stood there, smiling. And all she could see was the red, drying on her face, pumping out of the wound, the hideous, hideous red, and his smile- and she was terrified.

She'd fallen off of her bike. Red. Carla had cut her finger. Red. The razor slipped in the shower. Red. The color of hate, and death. Red. Red. Redredredredred.

After the memories, names.

Remi Pierce, Reika Ishida, Paige Strand, Augustus MacDougal, Eve Walker-Luther, Violetta Lindsburg, Eva Lancaster, Cody Jenkins, Hermione Miller, James Mulzet- she'd seen James, hadn't she? Wasn't it James? He'd been there- why was he gone now?

Real. It was all real. They were real. They were dead.

Rena screamed again, louder. "Don't you dare tell me it's water. I know what it is!" Tears flowed from her face, sobs ached in her throat. "I know, I know." She whispered the words, finally admitting to herself that it was all actually happening- she wasn't going to wake up.

Rena had pulled out her own flashlight and clicked it on before even realizing that she was moving. Maybe someone just got wounded- maybe they're okay.

The figure was misshapen- brutally beaten and mauled. Covered in the red. Dead. Deader than she thought was possible.

She squeaked again, choking out her sobs. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit fucking shit!"

It's real...it's all fucking real...

"We're all gonna fucking die."

She screamed, as loud as she could, as if somehow the noise would force her to wake up- as if it would make everything alright.

It didn't.