So they hadn't seen anyone for days. Not Rena, not Saul, not even Dustin. Although in all honesty, Garry didn't much care to see Dustin anytime soon. The next time he laid eyes on his hockey team mate, he'd have quite a few words to say to him, hopefully without coming to blows. The brown-haired boy of the group piped up next, suggesting they go check out the sawmill next on their travels. Garry mulled the idea over in his mind for a few seconds. They hadn't been there yet, and as he said, it did sound like a good place to rest and seek shelter.
"Alright, thanks for the help," Garry said, turning round to face Sunil. "What d'ya say, think we should head there nex-" He was prevented from finishing his question by the loudspeakers switching on, heralding the announcements. Garry gulped nervously and looked up to where Danya's voice was coming from. 'Please let them not be on it,' he prayed.
Carla Conners. Collar detonated.
William Hearst. Shived by Alex Wh-
Rena Peters.
It took Garry a few seconds for him to register that her name had just been announced over the tannoy. 'W-what...R-Rena... Rena's dead...?' His mouth swung open as a horrible coldness swept through his body, like ice was flowing through his veins, and it felt as though a bottomless pit had opened up beneath his feet.
"Oh-oh God... I-I think I need to sit down for a bit," Garry said, starting to tremble uncontrollably. His vision spun and disorientated him, making him feel like he was about to faint or even throw up. "She... she's dead..." Garry whimpered, sitting on the tree stump with his head in his hands. His fingers covered his eyes that were now starting to brim with tears. Tears for a girl who'd only made it to the halfway mark.
It was like Violetta all over again. Not content with having just the one person die before he could reach them, some higher power decided that Rena should die as well. Two failed searches. 'Why...?' It wasn't fair. All she wanted to do was find her friends, and she was killed for it. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. 'It's not fair!'
"What did she do to deserve that?!" he suddenly howled out. He looked up to the sky, fury etched all over his face. He didn't know, didn't even care who he was screaming at, he just wanted to scream until his throat burned and his lungs ached. "Tell me! Why did she have to die?! Why couldn't you have let us find her for once?!"
Garry's yelling died down and he just leant forward, resting his head and elbows on his knees and clutching the back of his head in his hands. His body jerked as he began to sob. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He wanted out. He just wanted it to end. He wanted to go home.
No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan
Open, Late Day Seven
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
The sawmill?
Oh God, he hated that place. It was cramped, smelly and seemed to be a magnet for trouble. Last time he was there (which, to be honest, was the only time he had been there ever), he'd found the beds uncomfortable, the other occupants irritating and the gunfire rather frightening and unpleasant. Still, it was the only lead they had to the whereabouts of Rena and Garry's husky mascot friend, and "oh, I hate that place" seemed like a terrible, pathetic reason to not want to go there, even to Sunil himself.
Just as he was preparing to turn around with Garry and give a friendly yet halfhearted nod of farewell to the group behind him, Danya decided that right now would be a good time to start his next announcement. Sunil stood still, exasperated at Danya's corny delivery and somewhat mournful for the high number of his classmates who were dying, but he mentally told himself he'd need to keep on trucking and find Rena.
Talking of Rena, did Danya just mention her?
Mentally rewinding to try and work out whether Danya had placed her as a killer or as a victim, Sunil stood still, mouth agape, trying to come to terms with the potential loss of a friend and ally to the horrors of the game. There was no mistaking it; she was a victim, one half of a double-kill courtesy of an Alex White.
Unlike with Garry, who very quickly began bellowing and raging at no-one in particular before descending into a sob, Sunil's immediate reaction was much more low-key. He just stood there, oblivious to his surroundings, staring blankly at the ground, his mind blank.
Oh God, he hated that place. It was cramped, smelly and seemed to be a magnet for trouble. Last time he was there (which, to be honest, was the only time he had been there ever), he'd found the beds uncomfortable, the other occupants irritating and the gunfire rather frightening and unpleasant. Still, it was the only lead they had to the whereabouts of Rena and Garry's husky mascot friend, and "oh, I hate that place" seemed like a terrible, pathetic reason to not want to go there, even to Sunil himself.
Just as he was preparing to turn around with Garry and give a friendly yet halfhearted nod of farewell to the group behind him, Danya decided that right now would be a good time to start his next announcement. Sunil stood still, exasperated at Danya's corny delivery and somewhat mournful for the high number of his classmates who were dying, but he mentally told himself he'd need to keep on trucking and find Rena.
Talking of Rena, did Danya just mention her?
Mentally rewinding to try and work out whether Danya had placed her as a killer or as a victim, Sunil stood still, mouth agape, trying to come to terms with the potential loss of a friend and ally to the horrors of the game. There was no mistaking it; she was a victim, one half of a double-kill courtesy of an Alex White.
Unlike with Garry, who very quickly began bellowing and raging at no-one in particular before descending into a sob, Sunil's immediate reaction was much more low-key. He just stood there, oblivious to his surroundings, staring blankly at the ground, his mind blank.
So wait. Aaron had seen Quincy with Nick?
That's what he claimed, anyway. She wasn't sure that he was telling the truth, but there it was. Quincy had been running around with Nick according to him.
Aston seemed to think that was enough, so off she went.
Milo this entire time was demanding their attention further. Goody. As if he couldn't be any more annoying! After all, she really didn't even know what his problem was now. Didn't help that he had snarked at her, too. Thankfully, Aaron had been polite, and started to explain-
Announcements.
By the end Aileen stood in shock. So Polanski was dead, and by the sound of things Danya had sent some friends over to have tea with them, judging by his wording. "Friends of mine", indeed.
Fuck. As if all this shit couldn't get any worse.
Rob Jenkins had died too. She didn't know how she felt about that. Was she happy that he died, considering he...?
She could hear a scream coming from one of the boys, and suddenly she realized that not only did Polanski die, but one of their friends they had been looking for had died to. For a second, Aileen felt a pang of pity, but Aaron had made a decision before she could dwell on it.
Since there were terrorists now out and about on the island, it seemed as if they were actually going to try something. It was possibly something that would get them all killed, but maybe it was-
She read the paper he had thrust into her face. It was the same as before, but as she read along she had noticed it had changed.
Yup, something that was likely to kill them all. Goody. Apparently the plan was to basically fiddle around with the cameras, somehow without the terrorists noticing, and then put lord knows how many electrical volts directed at each other. Joy of joys! So many ways they could die from this!
Oh, and apparently she was person Numero Uno. Which meant her job was to fiddle with cameras and point electricity at people. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.
Aaron. Oh boy, Aaron. Did she have her doubts.
"Aaron, I-"
She cut herself off suddenly.
Damn. Did she really have to do it?
Sad thing was, it was the only idea they had. Shock each other with electricity. To be fair, it had a chance of defusing any radio transmissions coming from the collar. It was incredibly risky, both in the terrorists not noticing AND having just enough electricity to defuse it and at the same time not fucking killing people.
Deep sigh.
"Okay, Aaron. I'll fucking do it. But I need to let you know that if anything goes wrong, we're screwed", she grumbled.
And with that, she stood up, and for a few seconds looked for a camera. Damn, she really needed to get in the habit of actually counting the-
Oh, there was one. Right on that other stump. Okay, first part.
She went directly to its side. She could notice the camera slowly swiveling about, attempting following their every move. Well, they were keeping an eye on them, that was for certain. She had to be quick, stealthy, and sneaky.
After a few seconds, she found what appeared to be a wire coming down from it. So there was one. Okay. And now...
"Aaron, gimme the gloves, will you?"
That's what he claimed, anyway. She wasn't sure that he was telling the truth, but there it was. Quincy had been running around with Nick according to him.
Aston seemed to think that was enough, so off she went.
Milo this entire time was demanding their attention further. Goody. As if he couldn't be any more annoying! After all, she really didn't even know what his problem was now. Didn't help that he had snarked at her, too. Thankfully, Aaron had been polite, and started to explain-
Announcements.
By the end Aileen stood in shock. So Polanski was dead, and by the sound of things Danya had sent some friends over to have tea with them, judging by his wording. "Friends of mine", indeed.
Fuck. As if all this shit couldn't get any worse.
Rob Jenkins had died too. She didn't know how she felt about that. Was she happy that he died, considering he...?
She could hear a scream coming from one of the boys, and suddenly she realized that not only did Polanski die, but one of their friends they had been looking for had died to. For a second, Aileen felt a pang of pity, but Aaron had made a decision before she could dwell on it.
Since there were terrorists now out and about on the island, it seemed as if they were actually going to try something. It was possibly something that would get them all killed, but maybe it was-
She read the paper he had thrust into her face. It was the same as before, but as she read along she had noticed it had changed.
Yup, something that was likely to kill them all. Goody. Apparently the plan was to basically fiddle around with the cameras, somehow without the terrorists noticing, and then put lord knows how many electrical volts directed at each other. Joy of joys! So many ways they could die from this!
Oh, and apparently she was person Numero Uno. Which meant her job was to fiddle with cameras and point electricity at people. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.
Aaron. Oh boy, Aaron. Did she have her doubts.
"Aaron, I-"
She cut herself off suddenly.
Damn. Did she really have to do it?
Sad thing was, it was the only idea they had. Shock each other with electricity. To be fair, it had a chance of defusing any radio transmissions coming from the collar. It was incredibly risky, both in the terrorists not noticing AND having just enough electricity to defuse it and at the same time not fucking killing people.
Deep sigh.
"Okay, Aaron. I'll fucking do it. But I need to let you know that if anything goes wrong, we're screwed", she grumbled.
And with that, she stood up, and for a few seconds looked for a camera. Damn, she really needed to get in the habit of actually counting the-
Oh, there was one. Right on that other stump. Okay, first part.
She went directly to its side. She could notice the camera slowly swiveling about, attempting following their every move. Well, they were keeping an eye on them, that was for certain. She had to be quick, stealthy, and sneaky.
After a few seconds, she found what appeared to be a wire coming down from it. So there was one. Okay. And now...
"Aaron, gimme the gloves, will you?"
Milo was confused. Aaron had said something about a plan, pointed Milo out as being the most important person in it, and given the girl a cryptic sheet of paper that prompted her to go find an electrical wire on one of the cameras nearby and ask for gloves.
Brain cells rubbed together.
...
...
Oh fuck. Aaron's intentions became immediately obvious when he handed the girl a piece of stripped wire in addition to the gloves. They were planning to shock something, and Milo had a gut feeling that he was going to be the one getting shocked. He wasn't very bright, but even he had a feeling this was going to be really, really counterproductive.
"Whoa, what the fuck, people. I really don't get what shocking me to death is going to accomplish. I mean goddamn, I know I'm a self-absorbed cock-hydrant but I'm not that much of a self-absorbed cock-hydrant," he said, his voice quivering a little as the fear of death grew in him.
Brain cells rubbed together.
...
...
Oh fuck. Aaron's intentions became immediately obvious when he handed the girl a piece of stripped wire in addition to the gloves. They were planning to shock something, and Milo had a gut feeling that he was going to be the one getting shocked. He wasn't very bright, but even he had a feeling this was going to be really, really counterproductive.
"Whoa, what the fuck, people. I really don't get what shocking me to death is going to accomplish. I mean goddamn, I know I'm a self-absorbed cock-hydrant but I'm not that much of a self-absorbed cock-hydrant," he said, his voice quivering a little as the fear of death grew in him.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Well it's your own damn fault for expecting so much.
Expecting what, exactly? Some miracle or other, like her collar was the only thing keeping her angel wings from sprouting out of her back, and well, fuck, once she's got her angel wings then she can just take off into the sky and pull her flaming sword out of a cloud and then the terrorists are right proper fucked. The crispy girl has just pulled out some major apotheosis here, so you and your terrorist buddies can just pack your bags and head back home. We'll all chill on this island and drink smoothies till goddamn America shows up and saves us.
It wasn't even that. Apotheosis was a great idea but it was just some bullshit SAT word that you'd never, ever have cause to use in a sentence. Far more likely to get used was... dammit, what's a nice, simple word for "seeing her again"? Reunion? Nope, too sappy and too much implied there, like they'd been best friends and this would've been some big touching moment. It wouldn't. It would've been that one girl, who'd appeared once on a riverbank - screaming and burning and so fragile so you better hold her gently when you tell everything's gonna be alright - appearing again.
Worse for the wear, probably, but you can't really blame her for that, looks like she's had a long day, so let's all relax and unwind, sit in a circle, teach her some slang, laugh at how awkward she's being and say some things you know will make her feel even more awkward. Try to stop grinning and fail. Wonder if you're maybe being too rough with the crispy girl, then forget that wonder the moment the next joke pops into your head.
Wasn't gonna happen.
Because someone else had gotten to her first, told her the same things about how she looked so tired and maybe she'd like to sit down for a while. He'd ridden up on his pretty pale horse and you couldn't see his face in the light. But there was something gleaming there, oh what sharp teeth he must have, and he came across as such a gentleman so how could she refuse him.
That hadn't happened either.
No beautiful pale metaphors on the horizon, no tragic poetry to accompany a pair of slowly closing eyes and a slowly beating heart. A struggle, maybe, and even a fight if we were just that damn lucky. But not a hero's last stand amid those steady falling cherry blossoms.
Just a girl failing to reappear.
---
Snap back to attention, little buddy. And watch yourself there, a poem just fell out of your mouth. Can't wait to see how catatonic you get when Dave or Izzy bite it (had they already – oh God, how long had she zoned out – no, no way she'd missed their names – yeah, she definitely would've heard – so they had to be alright, thank God), because fuck, you actually liked those two! It will be just so damn exciting to see what symbolism you cough up the next time your mind wanders.
In the meantime, Aaron was giving her the most important job of all, telling her to be the lookout. Lookout meant looking away, taking refuge in the idea of the outside world and turning a blind eye to the terrible things creeping up right behind you. Yeah, Charlie could handle that. Aaron might as well have just told her Close your eyes now, Charlie, you don't want to see this next part to cut down on the ambiguity.
But it was, it was wrong to...
It was wrong to stay silent. Attagirl, good phrase, hold it tight and make it mean something. Turn to Aaron (what, abandoning your solemn duty as lookout already? This is treason and you are a traitor) and tell him in the loudest voice you can muster right now:
"Look, Aaron, I don't know if this is such a hot idea, I mean... I've seen what collar tampering can do to you, right? Liz took that risk on her own but I'd never put that danger on anyone else, I mean..."
And her words just felt strangely quiet right now. And the world kept spinning while the volume stole away from her more and more in these pretty little wisps.
So she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see this next part.
Expecting what, exactly? Some miracle or other, like her collar was the only thing keeping her angel wings from sprouting out of her back, and well, fuck, once she's got her angel wings then she can just take off into the sky and pull her flaming sword out of a cloud and then the terrorists are right proper fucked. The crispy girl has just pulled out some major apotheosis here, so you and your terrorist buddies can just pack your bags and head back home. We'll all chill on this island and drink smoothies till goddamn America shows up and saves us.
It wasn't even that. Apotheosis was a great idea but it was just some bullshit SAT word that you'd never, ever have cause to use in a sentence. Far more likely to get used was... dammit, what's a nice, simple word for "seeing her again"? Reunion? Nope, too sappy and too much implied there, like they'd been best friends and this would've been some big touching moment. It wouldn't. It would've been that one girl, who'd appeared once on a riverbank - screaming and burning and so fragile so you better hold her gently when you tell everything's gonna be alright - appearing again.
Worse for the wear, probably, but you can't really blame her for that, looks like she's had a long day, so let's all relax and unwind, sit in a circle, teach her some slang, laugh at how awkward she's being and say some things you know will make her feel even more awkward. Try to stop grinning and fail. Wonder if you're maybe being too rough with the crispy girl, then forget that wonder the moment the next joke pops into your head.
Wasn't gonna happen.
Because someone else had gotten to her first, told her the same things about how she looked so tired and maybe she'd like to sit down for a while. He'd ridden up on his pretty pale horse and you couldn't see his face in the light. But there was something gleaming there, oh what sharp teeth he must have, and he came across as such a gentleman so how could she refuse him.
That hadn't happened either.
No beautiful pale metaphors on the horizon, no tragic poetry to accompany a pair of slowly closing eyes and a slowly beating heart. A struggle, maybe, and even a fight if we were just that damn lucky. But not a hero's last stand amid those steady falling cherry blossoms.
Just a girl failing to reappear.
---
Snap back to attention, little buddy. And watch yourself there, a poem just fell out of your mouth. Can't wait to see how catatonic you get when Dave or Izzy bite it (had they already – oh God, how long had she zoned out – no, no way she'd missed their names – yeah, she definitely would've heard – so they had to be alright, thank God), because fuck, you actually liked those two! It will be just so damn exciting to see what symbolism you cough up the next time your mind wanders.
In the meantime, Aaron was giving her the most important job of all, telling her to be the lookout. Lookout meant looking away, taking refuge in the idea of the outside world and turning a blind eye to the terrible things creeping up right behind you. Yeah, Charlie could handle that. Aaron might as well have just told her Close your eyes now, Charlie, you don't want to see this next part to cut down on the ambiguity.
But it was, it was wrong to...
It was wrong to stay silent. Attagirl, good phrase, hold it tight and make it mean something. Turn to Aaron (what, abandoning your solemn duty as lookout already? This is treason and you are a traitor) and tell him in the loudest voice you can muster right now:
"Look, Aaron, I don't know if this is such a hot idea, I mean... I've seen what collar tampering can do to you, right? Liz took that risk on her own but I'd never put that danger on anyone else, I mean..."
And her words just felt strangely quiet right now. And the world kept spinning while the volume stole away from her more and more in these pretty little wisps.
So she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see this next part.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jonny. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
So, this was how it was going to be, was it? Everything had worked out just fine, but Milo, all of a sudden, seemed to have tapped some hitherto undiscovered font of intellect. As Aaron handed Aileen the gloves and the wires, Milo decided to speak up, voicing his skepticism about the odds of success. Thing was, he'd also just shared with all the viewers back home and at base that something was up. Their time now was incredibly limited. Aaron's plan was starting to get fuzzy around the edges. That was bad, very bad.
He took two seconds to review. It was simple.
There were two possible outcomes. The first, the unlikely one, was that it would work perfectly, and Milo's collar would stop responding to the signals from the terrorists. A couple days ago, Aaron had been convinced that would work. Now, having read the manual left by Danya, having heard more about what Polanski had done, he was fairly sure there wouldn't be that sort of happy, storybook ending. If there was, half the group was still probably screwed, since Milo had fairly well announced that they were trying something. It wouldn't take long for collars to start blowing.
The second possibility, the realistic one, was that Milo was about to die. The electricity routed through the collar might not be properly insulated, giving Milo a nasty shock. That would be painful, but not deadly, not with only the amount of current needed to run a camera. The issue came in the form of the failsafes, the mechanisms built into the collars to prevent escape. Interference blew them. If this wasn't interference, Aaron didn't know what was. In all likelihood, Milo's collar was going to pop.
This was exactly what Aaron wanted to happen.
By blowing Milo up, he proved himself—and, by extension, Charlotte and Aileen—harmless and seemingly-inept. At the same time, he eliminated a dangerous unknown quantity on his team, and got Aileen onto the announcements.
Oh yes, Aaron had thought through the likely way this would go down. There was a good reason Aileen was the one holding the wires. He didn't think she would like the results of this experiment one bit. She'd shown a marked tendency towards inconvenient disobedience, and, had Aaron been the one playing with wires, would probably have ditched him. With a kill to her name, though, especially one that could not be interpreted as self-defense, she would be tied to Aaron. He'd be one of two people on the island who could vouch for her, could share the real story. She'd be stuck, and his name would still be clear for purposes of recruitment and diplomacy.
With any luck, she could pick up one of those Best Kill prizes too. Inventiveness was encouraged, right? Then, Aaron would send her after it and guilt trip her into handing it over, increasing the overall armory.
It was flawless.
Only, now, Milo's sudden bout of common sense was threatening it all. He was going to get them all killed, just to save his own pathetic life. That wouldn't do at all.
He thought Charlie was saying something behind him. He couldn't make out the specifics. Didn't care. She wasn't a threat. She didn't have the spine to cause trouble.
He pulled the gun out of his pocket, and said to the other two boys, the newcomers, "You should move along. This is about to be a very dangerous group to be associated with."
Just to convince them, he fired a shot into the ground in their general direction.
"Scram. Charlie, watch duty. Now."
And then, the gun was on Milo.
"And, you: don't move a muscle. We don't have time to argue or screw around. Move wrong and it's all over, and not in the happy way."
But after he spoke, he mouthed some more words to Milo and Aileen, silently, hoping they'd catch on.
It's alright, his lips said. It's all part of the plan.
Yes, it was all part of the plan. Maybe not the original one. Maybe not anything related to what they'd signed onto. That was irrelevant. Aaron was saving all of their lives—well, all except Milo's—and, unless they were completely deluded, they would thank him for it.
"Aileen. Do it."
He took two seconds to review. It was simple.
There were two possible outcomes. The first, the unlikely one, was that it would work perfectly, and Milo's collar would stop responding to the signals from the terrorists. A couple days ago, Aaron had been convinced that would work. Now, having read the manual left by Danya, having heard more about what Polanski had done, he was fairly sure there wouldn't be that sort of happy, storybook ending. If there was, half the group was still probably screwed, since Milo had fairly well announced that they were trying something. It wouldn't take long for collars to start blowing.
The second possibility, the realistic one, was that Milo was about to die. The electricity routed through the collar might not be properly insulated, giving Milo a nasty shock. That would be painful, but not deadly, not with only the amount of current needed to run a camera. The issue came in the form of the failsafes, the mechanisms built into the collars to prevent escape. Interference blew them. If this wasn't interference, Aaron didn't know what was. In all likelihood, Milo's collar was going to pop.
This was exactly what Aaron wanted to happen.
By blowing Milo up, he proved himself—and, by extension, Charlotte and Aileen—harmless and seemingly-inept. At the same time, he eliminated a dangerous unknown quantity on his team, and got Aileen onto the announcements.
Oh yes, Aaron had thought through the likely way this would go down. There was a good reason Aileen was the one holding the wires. He didn't think she would like the results of this experiment one bit. She'd shown a marked tendency towards inconvenient disobedience, and, had Aaron been the one playing with wires, would probably have ditched him. With a kill to her name, though, especially one that could not be interpreted as self-defense, she would be tied to Aaron. He'd be one of two people on the island who could vouch for her, could share the real story. She'd be stuck, and his name would still be clear for purposes of recruitment and diplomacy.
With any luck, she could pick up one of those Best Kill prizes too. Inventiveness was encouraged, right? Then, Aaron would send her after it and guilt trip her into handing it over, increasing the overall armory.
It was flawless.
Only, now, Milo's sudden bout of common sense was threatening it all. He was going to get them all killed, just to save his own pathetic life. That wouldn't do at all.
He thought Charlie was saying something behind him. He couldn't make out the specifics. Didn't care. She wasn't a threat. She didn't have the spine to cause trouble.
He pulled the gun out of his pocket, and said to the other two boys, the newcomers, "You should move along. This is about to be a very dangerous group to be associated with."
Just to convince them, he fired a shot into the ground in their general direction.
"Scram. Charlie, watch duty. Now."
And then, the gun was on Milo.
"And, you: don't move a muscle. We don't have time to argue or screw around. Move wrong and it's all over, and not in the happy way."
But after he spoke, he mouthed some more words to Milo and Aileen, silently, hoping they'd catch on.
It's alright, his lips said. It's all part of the plan.
Yes, it was all part of the plan. Maybe not the original one. Maybe not anything related to what they'd signed onto. That was irrelevant. Aaron was saving all of their lives—well, all except Milo's—and, unless they were completely deluded, they would thank him for it.
"Aileen. Do it."
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
Garry paid no attention to the group's conversing, lost in his own little world. The rest of the announcements had played out, announcing Dustin as another victim, which only served to distress Garry even more. So what if Dustin had been a massive jerk and had abandoned them? He didn't deserve to be murdered, for fuck's sake!
Quite possibly the one thing that was keeping him from completely losing it was that Saul was still alive and apparently well, wherever he was. He had to find him and soon... but where to go next? The tunnels were a no-go area from now on. That was something to be thankful for; it slightly narrowed down the areas he could search, not to mention the tunnels seemed like a terrible place to search in the first place. There was the sawmill that the guy had suggested, that was still a viable location.
To his side, one of the boys from the small group was trying to attract their attention. Garry's thoughts of Saul ended and he slowly craned his head to see just what the person wanted.
He jumped to his feet with a start when he saw that the brown-haired boy was pointing a gun at them. And he was demanding that they leave. "Hey-HEY! What the hell are you do-?!"
The gun went off, a chunk of lead diving into the ground just meters from Garry's feet. Garry jumped up in the air with a yelp, the gunshot ringing in his ears. He gripped the paintball gun tighter and aimed it at Aaron, finger poised on the trigger. "Jesus Christ! Have you all lost your fucking minds or something?! That could've hit us! Or are you actually trying to kill us?!" he shouted while lowering the paintball gun, resisting the urge to shoot one of the projectiles right into Aaron's face. 'He's not worth it. If I fire, they'll all gang up on us and tear us to shreds.'
He glared at Aaron and the group for a few seconds, watching for any sudden movement from them. Seeing none, he started backing away. "C'mon, let's just do what he says and go," he said to Sunil, "I think we picked the wrong group to talk to." He kept looking back at Aaron and his posse every few seconds as they departed, making sure they wouldn't try to shoot either of them in the back.
((Garry Villette continued in House Made of Sticks))
Quite possibly the one thing that was keeping him from completely losing it was that Saul was still alive and apparently well, wherever he was. He had to find him and soon... but where to go next? The tunnels were a no-go area from now on. That was something to be thankful for; it slightly narrowed down the areas he could search, not to mention the tunnels seemed like a terrible place to search in the first place. There was the sawmill that the guy had suggested, that was still a viable location.
To his side, one of the boys from the small group was trying to attract their attention. Garry's thoughts of Saul ended and he slowly craned his head to see just what the person wanted.
He jumped to his feet with a start when he saw that the brown-haired boy was pointing a gun at them. And he was demanding that they leave. "Hey-HEY! What the hell are you do-?!"
The gun went off, a chunk of lead diving into the ground just meters from Garry's feet. Garry jumped up in the air with a yelp, the gunshot ringing in his ears. He gripped the paintball gun tighter and aimed it at Aaron, finger poised on the trigger. "Jesus Christ! Have you all lost your fucking minds or something?! That could've hit us! Or are you actually trying to kill us?!" he shouted while lowering the paintball gun, resisting the urge to shoot one of the projectiles right into Aaron's face. 'He's not worth it. If I fire, they'll all gang up on us and tear us to shreds.'
He glared at Aaron and the group for a few seconds, watching for any sudden movement from them. Seeing none, he started backing away. "C'mon, let's just do what he says and go," he said to Sunil, "I think we picked the wrong group to talk to." He kept looking back at Aaron and his posse every few seconds as they departed, making sure they wouldn't try to shoot either of them in the back.
((Garry Villette continued in House Made of Sticks))
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Sunil resisted the urge to just slump onto the rough, dusty ground and just curl up into a foetal position and sob himself to an uncomfortable sleep, and instead decided to wait for Garry to recover from his own torment and decide to take control again. Instead, he continued staring blankly at the ground, a glassy, blank look in his eyes and an unreadable expression on his face, the sounds of the group's heated conversation behind him not registering at all.
However, Sunil did not have time to mope about and mourn Rena's demise and the continuing deterioration of his circumstances any further, as shortly afterwards the brown-haired boy decided that he had the God-given right to interrupt their quiet reflection and begin waving a gun about like some cocky psychopathic dickhead.
Sunil's first reaction was to immediately stare at the gun (partially to double-check that it wasn't just a banana painted silver or the bastard had done some other fucked up trick like that, but mainly because a gun being pulled out of nowhere and aimed in your general direction was very likely to catch your undivided attention and put all other concerns to the back of your mind), jump up in the air and let off a string of muttered profanities (consisting of Sunil just saying "fuck", "shit" and various derivatives in whatever order came to mind). What added insult to highly-probable injury was that the douche with the gun was talking like sending him and Garry running off like obedient little puppies was for their own protection.
The obnoxious, self-righteous douche.
However, before Sunil could make his rather strong opinions on the gun's owner known, the kid decided that giving them an opportunity to talk their differences out like civilised, reasonable adults and part ways amicably was not an option, and just casually fired a shot at the ground.
A bullet dived into the ground an uncomfortably close distance from Sunil, sending a massive jolt of fear and panic shooting through his body, and his lack of fluid intake over the past few days the only thing preventing him from pissing his pants like a scared baby. His first reaction was to quickly check his body for any unusual sensations or unwanted holes that signalled that the shot had rebounded off the ground and hit Sunil's body. Once he was sure, he hadn't been hit, his second reaction was to begin addressing Aaron in less than friendly terms, making Garry's comments seem calm, rational and polite by comparison.
"YOU FUCKING CUNT! WHAT THE HELL'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM? WE GOT ENOUGH FUCKING PROBLEMS AS IT IS WITHOUT YOU FIRING YOUR BULLETS AT US, YOU CUNT-GUZZLING DICK-NOBBLER!"
Sunil, even in his agitated, emotionally-vulnerable state, knew better than to charge a pretentious dick with a gun and shove his collar up his rectum, despite the temptation to do so, but he really would love nothing better than to see a five-tonne weight inexplicably fall from the air and land on his ugly, cock-sure head, or a giant bear to burst out of the trees and begin mauling the nasty waste of oxygen to pieces, but alas, that was not going to happen. Sunil's luck had not been good lately.
So, instead, when Garry, who had been able to get back down to Earth at a much quicker rate than Sunil after both being shot at and dealing with the painful messages on the announcement, suggested they leave the area and go do whatever elsewhere, Sunil begrudgingly followed him, a scornful eye on Aaron until he left his field of vision.
((Sunil Savarkar continued in House Made of Sticks.))
However, Sunil did not have time to mope about and mourn Rena's demise and the continuing deterioration of his circumstances any further, as shortly afterwards the brown-haired boy decided that he had the God-given right to interrupt their quiet reflection and begin waving a gun about like some cocky psychopathic dickhead.
Sunil's first reaction was to immediately stare at the gun (partially to double-check that it wasn't just a banana painted silver or the bastard had done some other fucked up trick like that, but mainly because a gun being pulled out of nowhere and aimed in your general direction was very likely to catch your undivided attention and put all other concerns to the back of your mind), jump up in the air and let off a string of muttered profanities (consisting of Sunil just saying "fuck", "shit" and various derivatives in whatever order came to mind). What added insult to highly-probable injury was that the douche with the gun was talking like sending him and Garry running off like obedient little puppies was for their own protection.
The obnoxious, self-righteous douche.
However, before Sunil could make his rather strong opinions on the gun's owner known, the kid decided that giving them an opportunity to talk their differences out like civilised, reasonable adults and part ways amicably was not an option, and just casually fired a shot at the ground.
A bullet dived into the ground an uncomfortably close distance from Sunil, sending a massive jolt of fear and panic shooting through his body, and his lack of fluid intake over the past few days the only thing preventing him from pissing his pants like a scared baby. His first reaction was to quickly check his body for any unusual sensations or unwanted holes that signalled that the shot had rebounded off the ground and hit Sunil's body. Once he was sure, he hadn't been hit, his second reaction was to begin addressing Aaron in less than friendly terms, making Garry's comments seem calm, rational and polite by comparison.
"YOU FUCKING CUNT! WHAT THE HELL'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM? WE GOT ENOUGH FUCKING PROBLEMS AS IT IS WITHOUT YOU FIRING YOUR BULLETS AT US, YOU CUNT-GUZZLING DICK-NOBBLER!"
Sunil, even in his agitated, emotionally-vulnerable state, knew better than to charge a pretentious dick with a gun and shove his collar up his rectum, despite the temptation to do so, but he really would love nothing better than to see a five-tonne weight inexplicably fall from the air and land on his ugly, cock-sure head, or a giant bear to burst out of the trees and begin mauling the nasty waste of oxygen to pieces, but alas, that was not going to happen. Sunil's luck had not been good lately.
So, instead, when Garry, who had been able to get back down to Earth at a much quicker rate than Sunil after both being shot at and dealing with the painful messages on the announcement, suggested they leave the area and go do whatever elsewhere, Sunil begrudgingly followed him, a scornful eye on Aaron until he left his field of vision.
((Sunil Savarkar continued in House Made of Sticks.))
As Aaron gave her the gloves and stripped wire, Aileen mumbled a token "thanks", put the gloves on, and continued fiddling with them.
However, Milo and DuClare shared her thoughts. To be honest, for once she couldn't blame them. Heck, Milo even admitted to being self-absorbed. If anything went wrong, people could die, either from being electrocuted or having their collars detonated for screwing with the collars. It was incredibly risky, and with those people standing nearby, who had already had someone close to them die....
Well, Aaron had his own way of dealing with them.
Aileen jumped as he began firing in their direction. Oh jesus christ, and he didn't learn from last time?! And this wasn't Rob Jenkins, either! These were two guys looking for their friend that had been killed! They had been doing nothing to them! They didn't seem to like it either, as they screamed and cussed at them as well, before running away.
Aaron... what did you DO? Were you trying to make people pissed off at you?
And as if he wanted to make matters worse... he had focused his attention on Milo now. Oh great, so now he was pointing that thing on his own team mates? Yup, he had lost his shit-
What the shit was he mouthing? "It was alright"? So another part of his plan involved randomly waving that thing around? Really? Damn. Okay, so maybe he was putting on a show to distract the camera or something, making it look like he had gone crazy while she did her thing. She hoped. She wasn't thinking straight. But still. She couldn't help but-
And then he focused his attention on her.
Aileen turned, and with trembling hands put the stripped wire on the camera's wire. Okay, that was there. She guessed that she had to put it on Milo's collar.
As she approached Milo with the wire, she couldn't help but wonder. Would this work? Would it save them all? Would it be a godsend? But it was going to fail... she was sure of that. No, it couldn't fail, could it?
"Milo, if this hurts... I'm sorry", she whispered.
Even if he was a douche, she still didn't want to hurt him. If he started complaining, she'd stop right there. If he was able to complain. Hopefully if it doesn't work, he would be able to.
Hopefully.
However, Milo and DuClare shared her thoughts. To be honest, for once she couldn't blame them. Heck, Milo even admitted to being self-absorbed. If anything went wrong, people could die, either from being electrocuted or having their collars detonated for screwing with the collars. It was incredibly risky, and with those people standing nearby, who had already had someone close to them die....
Well, Aaron had his own way of dealing with them.
Aileen jumped as he began firing in their direction. Oh jesus christ, and he didn't learn from last time?! And this wasn't Rob Jenkins, either! These were two guys looking for their friend that had been killed! They had been doing nothing to them! They didn't seem to like it either, as they screamed and cussed at them as well, before running away.
Aaron... what did you DO? Were you trying to make people pissed off at you?
And as if he wanted to make matters worse... he had focused his attention on Milo now. Oh great, so now he was pointing that thing on his own team mates? Yup, he had lost his shit-
What the shit was he mouthing? "It was alright"? So another part of his plan involved randomly waving that thing around? Really? Damn. Okay, so maybe he was putting on a show to distract the camera or something, making it look like he had gone crazy while she did her thing. She hoped. She wasn't thinking straight. But still. She couldn't help but-
And then he focused his attention on her.
Aileen turned, and with trembling hands put the stripped wire on the camera's wire. Okay, that was there. She guessed that she had to put it on Milo's collar.
As she approached Milo with the wire, she couldn't help but wonder. Would this work? Would it save them all? Would it be a godsend? But it was going to fail... she was sure of that. No, it couldn't fail, could it?
"Milo, if this hurts... I'm sorry", she whispered.
Even if he was a douche, she still didn't want to hurt him. If he started complaining, she'd stop right there. If he was able to complain. Hopefully if it doesn't work, he would be able to.
Hopefully.
The girl had almost touched the wires to Milo's collar.
"Please... don't do it, I don't know who you are but I don't want to-" he sobbed, but was interrupted by a searing wall of pain as the wire touched his collar and sent nearly a thousand volts straight through his body.
Milo screamed. For once it wasn't a faked scream, because of cowardice- Milo was very nearly being shocked to death, and the electricity charred the skin around his neck, causing him unimaginable agony.
The girl pulled away, and the pain stopped as the current reached the ground. Tears streaked down Milo's face.
"Please help me... I don't want to die here," Milo said, crying.
Beep.
"Oh fuck!" Milo yelled. "I'm... I'm going to die! One of you... help me, god damn it! I don't... I don't want to fucking die!" Milo screamed.
Beep.
Milo kept screaming, unintelligibly, but was interrupted by a loud bang, similar to a firecracker going off, as the charge in the collar tore his throat open. He attempted to keep screaming, but all that came out was a quiet hiss as air escaped his exposed, ripped trachea. He clutched the blood-spurting, in disbelief and looked at the girl as he fell to his knees.
"Why?" he mouthed. There was no point trying to actually say it. Mouthing it was good enough.
Everything went black and Milo slumped over. A splash as his head landed in a pool of his own blood.
Aileen. That was her name. Yeah... we had a class together back in middle school. No wonder she hated me so much, Milo thought. Guess this is the end. There are worse ways to go out, I suppose.
And with that, the pain ended.
B048: TAYLOR, MILO - DECEASED
"Please... don't do it, I don't know who you are but I don't want to-" he sobbed, but was interrupted by a searing wall of pain as the wire touched his collar and sent nearly a thousand volts straight through his body.
Milo screamed. For once it wasn't a faked scream, because of cowardice- Milo was very nearly being shocked to death, and the electricity charred the skin around his neck, causing him unimaginable agony.
The girl pulled away, and the pain stopped as the current reached the ground. Tears streaked down Milo's face.
"Please help me... I don't want to die here," Milo said, crying.
Beep.
"Oh fuck!" Milo yelled. "I'm... I'm going to die! One of you... help me, god damn it! I don't... I don't want to fucking die!" Milo screamed.
Beep.
Milo kept screaming, unintelligibly, but was interrupted by a loud bang, similar to a firecracker going off, as the charge in the collar tore his throat open. He attempted to keep screaming, but all that came out was a quiet hiss as air escaped his exposed, ripped trachea. He clutched the blood-spurting, in disbelief and looked at the girl as he fell to his knees.
"Why?" he mouthed. There was no point trying to actually say it. Mouthing it was good enough.
Everything went black and Milo slumped over. A splash as his head landed in a pool of his own blood.
Aileen. That was her name. Yeah... we had a class together back in middle school. No wonder she hated me so much, Milo thought. Guess this is the end. There are worse ways to go out, I suppose.
And with that, the pain ended.
B048: TAYLOR, MILO - DECEASED
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Her eyes were closed when it happened, so it followed naturally that she could open them up, whenever she was ready, to the sight of goofy grins and slapping hands and a hip and a hip and a hooray. And not a drop of blood in sight, and not a drop of blood in sight.
No such luck.
There was Milo, or there was most of Milo, and there was Aaron. Aaron, who had sounded so confident about this plan. Aaron, with the gun in his hand. Aaron, looking blank and looking still and telling her nothing – start cackling or start weeping, for fucksake, so Charlie can know how to feel. You just killed a boy, at least have the common decency to let Charlie know whether she ought to... ought to...
A fine point. Hypothetically: Aaron slicks back his hair and puts on some sunglasses and twirls his shiny gun because You fools, I have been the villain all along, you are puppets on my strings!
And then?
No, you don't fight him, because he has a gun and you gave your mirror to a crispy girl because MacGyver was your dad's favorite show you looked up the show a bit when you bought him the DVD set for Father's day. No, no, you don't run, because you'd be alone on a scary fucking island with two hundred markers reading Here lies . . . and none reading Home. No, no, fucking no, you don't stay with him, because you sure as fuck already know how that ends.
So you cross that bridge, maybe, when you come to it.
But for now you do some stupid fucking things, some things that are maybe just maybe going to get you killed and put this whole thing to rest, because you need to know whether you're already standing on that bridge. So with a trembling you hope isn't big enough for him to see and with a few broad steps forward,
"Jesus fucking Christ, Aaron, you- you don't get to be calm right now. Fuck, you, you get-"
She grabbed onto his gun. Not the handle- hahaha, what, did you think she was stupid or something? The barrel. Pressed it against her stomach. Looked the boy dead in the eye. Not much else she could do right now to make herself more afraid.
"You get to make a choice. Because you just killed him, Aaron, you killed- and it wasn't her, she didn't even do anything, you can't put any of that on her. Okay? So you- you got to make a choice now, okay?"
Barrel of the gun was shaking now.
Please tell me that's him and not me.
"One choice is you're a killer and, and you wanted this, you wanted him to die, in which case you fucking shoot me right now, you fucking admit it to me and you and everyone else, okay, because I don't want to look over my shoulder every minute of the rest of my live."
Oh God, it was definitely her.
"Either that, or you- or you're not a killer, and this wasn't what you wanted, you didn't want him to... you didn't want anyone to die! And if that's true, then you don't get to be calm, you- you need to start showing some fucking remorse for that! You need to be sorry, you son of a fucking- you need to be sorry!"
"Okay?"
Okay,
he said, without a word.
He snuffled. Once, twice. He loosened his grip on the gun. Set it on the ground. Sat down, legs folded, head in his hands. There were no tears, which was a little odd because Charlie had been expecting tears (hoping for tears), but there was something there. Something in his face, maybe, to tell her. But it seemed awful rude right now to lift up his head and give his grief an inspection. To look him in his dry eyes and tell him he wasn't doing good enough.
So you don't.
So instead you pull yourself together and bend down low and hope.
And trust and believe. And with your arms holding him tight you start to gently whisper,
"It's okay. It's okay. I know you didn't want this, I'm... sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You're a good guy, Aaron, I know you didn't mean to. It's okay. It'll be okay. It'll all be alright."
It's true, it's true, it's all true. He did it on accident, he's a good guy, he's your friend. So say it, say it again, say it all, say it like you mean it. Say it till you're not afraid anymore. Say it till nobody is trembling.
Say it till you believe.
No such luck.
There was Milo, or there was most of Milo, and there was Aaron. Aaron, who had sounded so confident about this plan. Aaron, with the gun in his hand. Aaron, looking blank and looking still and telling her nothing – start cackling or start weeping, for fucksake, so Charlie can know how to feel. You just killed a boy, at least have the common decency to let Charlie know whether she ought to... ought to...
A fine point. Hypothetically: Aaron slicks back his hair and puts on some sunglasses and twirls his shiny gun because You fools, I have been the villain all along, you are puppets on my strings!
And then?
No, you don't fight him, because he has a gun and you gave your mirror to a crispy girl because MacGyver was your dad's favorite show you looked up the show a bit when you bought him the DVD set for Father's day. No, no, you don't run, because you'd be alone on a scary fucking island with two hundred markers reading Here lies . . . and none reading Home. No, no, fucking no, you don't stay with him, because you sure as fuck already know how that ends.
So you cross that bridge, maybe, when you come to it.
But for now you do some stupid fucking things, some things that are maybe just maybe going to get you killed and put this whole thing to rest, because you need to know whether you're already standing on that bridge. So with a trembling you hope isn't big enough for him to see and with a few broad steps forward,
"Jesus fucking Christ, Aaron, you- you don't get to be calm right now. Fuck, you, you get-"
She grabbed onto his gun. Not the handle- hahaha, what, did you think she was stupid or something? The barrel. Pressed it against her stomach. Looked the boy dead in the eye. Not much else she could do right now to make herself more afraid.
"You get to make a choice. Because you just killed him, Aaron, you killed- and it wasn't her, she didn't even do anything, you can't put any of that on her. Okay? So you- you got to make a choice now, okay?"
Barrel of the gun was shaking now.
Please tell me that's him and not me.
"One choice is you're a killer and, and you wanted this, you wanted him to die, in which case you fucking shoot me right now, you fucking admit it to me and you and everyone else, okay, because I don't want to look over my shoulder every minute of the rest of my live."
Oh God, it was definitely her.
"Either that, or you- or you're not a killer, and this wasn't what you wanted, you didn't want him to... you didn't want anyone to die! And if that's true, then you don't get to be calm, you- you need to start showing some fucking remorse for that! You need to be sorry, you son of a fucking- you need to be sorry!"
"Okay?"
Okay,
he said, without a word.
He snuffled. Once, twice. He loosened his grip on the gun. Set it on the ground. Sat down, legs folded, head in his hands. There were no tears, which was a little odd because Charlie had been expecting tears (hoping for tears), but there was something there. Something in his face, maybe, to tell her. But it seemed awful rude right now to lift up his head and give his grief an inspection. To look him in his dry eyes and tell him he wasn't doing good enough.
So you don't.
So instead you pull yourself together and bend down low and hope.
And trust and believe. And with your arms holding him tight you start to gently whisper,
"It's okay. It's okay. I know you didn't want this, I'm... sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You're a good guy, Aaron, I know you didn't mean to. It's okay. It'll be okay. It'll all be alright."
It's true, it's true, it's all true. He did it on accident, he's a good guy, he's your friend. So say it, say it again, say it all, say it like you mean it. Say it till you're not afraid anymore. Say it till nobody is trembling.
Say it till you believe.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The two other boys left, with some exchange of profanities. Aaron didn't care. The second they were out of his sight, they were no longer factors. This was it. The moment of truth. He didn't know if they would be saved, but he hoped they would. If things just went according to the plan, they'd all be fine. Well, Aileen and Charlie and Aaron would be fine.
Things almost went according to plan.
He hadn't quite been expecting the actual death to go down like it did.
The collar didn't go off right away. The sadistic creeps who designed it had built it a bit differently. Milo started shouting. Begging. The whole time, the collar beeped. Aaron stood, stared. He couldn't do anything. Had he been able to, he wouldn't have done anything. This was all for the good of the group. Milo was a sacrifice. He was an unfortunately loud sacrifice, one who wouldn't just die and be done with it. This was... this was not going to be a public relations coup. This was going to need some serious damage mitigation. Morale was going to tank here. Aaron was completely at a loss as to how to spin this. Certainly he couldn't tell the truth. Aileen and Charlie would murder him, and with him would die any chance of recovering from this debacle.
Milo's collar finally exploded. There was blood. It was pretty horrific. Certainly worse than Guthrie in the tunnels. Aaron hadn't even seen that.
And Charlie started talking. She started in on him before he could get ready, before he could solidify his plan. He just stood there awkwardly with the gun in his hand as she yelled at him. He was completely blindsided, at a total loss for words.
What was the appropriate reaction here?
He was satisfied with the fact that Milo had died. It was best. It was for the good of the group. Aileen and Charlie wouldn't believe that. A teammate had just died, never mind how useless, deceitful, obnoxious, and dangerous he had been. Aaron was supposed to feel sad. He was supposed to feel like a failure. His plan had allegedly just exploded in his face. He was supposed to be crushed.
Do not grin.
He kept a straight face.
And Charlie pushed his gun into her gut and told him to pull the trigger if that was how he was doing things. He was almost tempted. He wasn't very pleased with her right now. His emotions were running a bit high, and she was on her way to becoming a liability. But that wasn't how this worked. He was trying to save people. If some of his teammates had to die, that was acceptable, but only because it had to be that way.
Charlie was shaking. Aaron made himself sniffle a couple times, then set the gun down. This is what a leader does. When things go wrong, they don't pitch a fit, no matter how much they want to. They don't throw the blame around. They don't try to wiggle out of responsibility.
Aaron was self-aware enough to know things would have been different if the plan had actually gone wrong. It didn't matter, though. He had a role to keep up.
He sat on the ground and buried his face in his hands. He needed time. He needed to stall. He needed a plan. Milo had fucked him over one last time, dying like he did, and now Aaron had to pull things back together.
"I..." he said, after a time. "I thought it.... would work. I was sure it would work."
It worked.
Things almost went according to plan.
He hadn't quite been expecting the actual death to go down like it did.
The collar didn't go off right away. The sadistic creeps who designed it had built it a bit differently. Milo started shouting. Begging. The whole time, the collar beeped. Aaron stood, stared. He couldn't do anything. Had he been able to, he wouldn't have done anything. This was all for the good of the group. Milo was a sacrifice. He was an unfortunately loud sacrifice, one who wouldn't just die and be done with it. This was... this was not going to be a public relations coup. This was going to need some serious damage mitigation. Morale was going to tank here. Aaron was completely at a loss as to how to spin this. Certainly he couldn't tell the truth. Aileen and Charlie would murder him, and with him would die any chance of recovering from this debacle.
Milo's collar finally exploded. There was blood. It was pretty horrific. Certainly worse than Guthrie in the tunnels. Aaron hadn't even seen that.
And Charlie started talking. She started in on him before he could get ready, before he could solidify his plan. He just stood there awkwardly with the gun in his hand as she yelled at him. He was completely blindsided, at a total loss for words.
What was the appropriate reaction here?
He was satisfied with the fact that Milo had died. It was best. It was for the good of the group. Aileen and Charlie wouldn't believe that. A teammate had just died, never mind how useless, deceitful, obnoxious, and dangerous he had been. Aaron was supposed to feel sad. He was supposed to feel like a failure. His plan had allegedly just exploded in his face. He was supposed to be crushed.
Do not grin.
He kept a straight face.
And Charlie pushed his gun into her gut and told him to pull the trigger if that was how he was doing things. He was almost tempted. He wasn't very pleased with her right now. His emotions were running a bit high, and she was on her way to becoming a liability. But that wasn't how this worked. He was trying to save people. If some of his teammates had to die, that was acceptable, but only because it had to be that way.
Charlie was shaking. Aaron made himself sniffle a couple times, then set the gun down. This is what a leader does. When things go wrong, they don't pitch a fit, no matter how much they want to. They don't throw the blame around. They don't try to wiggle out of responsibility.
Aaron was self-aware enough to know things would have been different if the plan had actually gone wrong. It didn't matter, though. He had a role to keep up.
He sat on the ground and buried his face in his hands. He needed time. He needed to stall. He needed a plan. Milo had fucked him over one last time, dying like he did, and now Aaron had to pull things back together.
"I..." he said, after a time. "I thought it.... would work. I was sure it would work."
It worked.
Did it work?
Like hell it did.
Zach scoffed.
(Zach Jamis continued from Eep)
Zach was not in a great mood. Then again, Zach was never in a great mood. There was a difference though. Hours ago, he was only annoyed, shuffling around nabbing a dufflebag right off of some chick that killed someone. Right now he was pissed. It had something to do with Sam. She wandered off again. Or maybe he was just disgusted. Or maybe there wasn't a reason at all, maybe Zach just wanted to feel pissed. Nothing wrong with that. Yeah, nothing wrong with being unreasonably pissed for no reason. Pretty sure it had something to do with Shaggy acting like a pussy.
Zach had his gun out. He didn't move his arm though. He just stared.
"... stop crying like a baby Shaggy."
Zach was disgusted. Had he fucked up that badly, he would have kept a straight-face. Or hit a tree really hard and bitched about how he fucked up. This shit? This shit was just pathetic. Oh no my plan didn't work the way I wanted, I'm going to just lay on the ground and cry like a baby. Bullshit. Wasn't Shaggy the ragtag leader, the one who was supposed to boss the underlings around? Guy wasn't spewing tears, wasn't sobbing either, but Zach felt the urge to gag despite that. It counted as crying like a baby to him. Zach wouldn't have done this. 'Course, he was the one who dropped the whole Leader shit decades ago.
Zach never kept masquerade masks. He never did like clutter.
"Get the fuck up." He sneered. Not just at Shaggy but Bandit as well. Jesus. Girl looked like shit. No wonder she backed off. "The fuck is wrong with you? The both of you. Fuck."
He was almost out of cigarettes. Maybe that was it. The one he had in his mouth was almost finished, and Zach clinged to it for dear life. Maybe Shaggy had some - no way. Guy's probably a mommy-loving boyscout who preached about forest fires and some shit. Zach hated boyscouts. His father wanted him to join it when he was young. He only went once to a cub scout meeting. Some kid spilled paint on his head and Zach broke the little shit's nose. Served him right.
Zach turned to Bandit. "You either shoot him or you don't. Don't go saying yes, then backing out. Only a coward does that."
Lecture time. Idiots. He turned to the camera, turned to the girl - fuck, he didn't even have a nickname for her - and back to Shaggy.
"Way I see it," he continued, "You were idiots for trying it anyway. Electricity is screwed up like that, you were putting a damn fork into a electrical socket. Do any of you assholes even know a thing about electricity? I sure as hell don't. 'Least I know that if something happens to the electricity in my house, I call a professional. Not take things into my own hands."
Cig was out. He let it drop.
"Way I see it, you guys fucked up. S'not like it matters. I always hated Taylor. Surprised he didn't get himself killed."
Like hell it did.
Zach scoffed.
(Zach Jamis continued from Eep)
Zach was not in a great mood. Then again, Zach was never in a great mood. There was a difference though. Hours ago, he was only annoyed, shuffling around nabbing a dufflebag right off of some chick that killed someone. Right now he was pissed. It had something to do with Sam. She wandered off again. Or maybe he was just disgusted. Or maybe there wasn't a reason at all, maybe Zach just wanted to feel pissed. Nothing wrong with that. Yeah, nothing wrong with being unreasonably pissed for no reason. Pretty sure it had something to do with Shaggy acting like a pussy.
Zach had his gun out. He didn't move his arm though. He just stared.
"... stop crying like a baby Shaggy."
Zach was disgusted. Had he fucked up that badly, he would have kept a straight-face. Or hit a tree really hard and bitched about how he fucked up. This shit? This shit was just pathetic. Oh no my plan didn't work the way I wanted, I'm going to just lay on the ground and cry like a baby. Bullshit. Wasn't Shaggy the ragtag leader, the one who was supposed to boss the underlings around? Guy wasn't spewing tears, wasn't sobbing either, but Zach felt the urge to gag despite that. It counted as crying like a baby to him. Zach wouldn't have done this. 'Course, he was the one who dropped the whole Leader shit decades ago.
Zach never kept masquerade masks. He never did like clutter.
"Get the fuck up." He sneered. Not just at Shaggy but Bandit as well. Jesus. Girl looked like shit. No wonder she backed off. "The fuck is wrong with you? The both of you. Fuck."
He was almost out of cigarettes. Maybe that was it. The one he had in his mouth was almost finished, and Zach clinged to it for dear life. Maybe Shaggy had some - no way. Guy's probably a mommy-loving boyscout who preached about forest fires and some shit. Zach hated boyscouts. His father wanted him to join it when he was young. He only went once to a cub scout meeting. Some kid spilled paint on his head and Zach broke the little shit's nose. Served him right.
Zach turned to Bandit. "You either shoot him or you don't. Don't go saying yes, then backing out. Only a coward does that."
Lecture time. Idiots. He turned to the camera, turned to the girl - fuck, he didn't even have a nickname for her - and back to Shaggy.
"Way I see it," he continued, "You were idiots for trying it anyway. Electricity is screwed up like that, you were putting a damn fork into a electrical socket. Do any of you assholes even know a thing about electricity? I sure as hell don't. 'Least I know that if something happens to the electricity in my house, I call a professional. Not take things into my own hands."
Cig was out. He let it drop.
"Way I see it, you guys fucked up. S'not like it matters. I always hated Taylor. Surprised he didn't get himself killed."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
He begged her to stop, but Aileen knew she had to. Hopefully he would be safe, right? If it started to hurt, she'd stop right there and try her best to patch up whatever injuries he had.
Oh, but if she had been in any better a mental state, then what happened next would have been something she would have protested against a bit more.
The electricity transferred from the wire to Milo's collar, but it... didn't work.
He screamed. It wasn't just a small cry of pain. She could tell it genuinely hurt. It wasn't a good sound, and it was clear that not only wasn't working, but it was hurting him.
Aileen ripped the wire away as quickly as possible, and stepped back. No, she had to stop this right then and there! No use trying again if it hurt and didn't work! And he was injured. She didn't even need to look. He was pleading with her, looking up at her like some sort of injured animal. A smell of burnt flesh had filled the air, like some sort of demented barbecue.
She'd hurt him.
He was a douche, sure. But she'd never wish something like that on anyone. She didn't know that much about electricity. But she knew one thing; getting electrocuted was probably among the most painful things you could go through.
And then the beeping started.
Aileen could only watch as he started pleading with her again, but she was paralyzed with fear. What could she do? She couldn't save him. They'd noticed. Either that or the collar had gone off just from the electricity. It didn't matter at this point in what was going to happen next
There was a crack like a firework, and Aileen closed her eyes on instinct. She didn't want to look. He wasn't screaming anymore. She had already guessed what had happened.
But, she had to look. She was responsible for it.
Aileen opened her eyes again.
Milo was lying on the ground, his head resting in his own blood. The burnt barbecue smell continued to fill the air, like strange incense. Even now, he seemed to be staring at her, begging for this not to happen. But there was no life in those eyes.
"Aaron..." she tried to say, but her voice wavered.
A chill went up and down her body.
She was a murderer. Make no mistake about that. She'd killed him. And she knew how much it hurt, based on how long and loud he was screaming. Even if he somehow survived, he wouldn't have lasted for long.
What did she do?
Oh god, what did she do?
With shaking hands, Aileen removed the stripping wire from the camera's wire, and tossed it and the gloves as far as she could. She... didn't want them to be used again.
And she could hear yelling. Wearily moving her head towards the cause, she could see DuClare and Aaron arguing. According to her, he didn't deserve to be calm about this, and was grabbing the barrel of the gun asking him to...
No. She wasn't begging for him to shoot her, was she?
Aileen stared with transfixed eyes. If this was a different Aileen from before, one who hadn't been exposed to so much death, one who hadn't killed someone, then she would have just sighed and asked them to break it up, possibly while yelling.
But for once, Aileen couldn't say anything. She opened her mouth, and no words came out.
Aaron was upset. To be honest, she wasn't sure if he was sad, if he was disappointed his plan didn't work, or just upset because he was supposed to.
And DuClare tried to comfort him.
Aileen wasn't sure how to react to all this. It was like she was watching a movie, rather than partaking in real life. Only, however, she was seeing through her own eyes rather than a lens.
She felt something in her stomach suddenly, and she knew what was about to happen. The burnt corpse, Milo's death, DuClare and Aaron arguing, and her killing someone... oh jesus. The taste of bile was coming up in her mouth.
Aileen collapsed to the ground on her hands and knees, and, well, vomited.
As she breathed heavily from the stress and felt herself shiver, feeling like her body wanted to heave again, she could hear someone talking to them again. It wasn't everyone in the group, that was for certain. And it probably wasn't those guys that Aaron had scared off with the gun.
Aileen looked up.
It was another guy, glaring at them. He must have seen everything that had just happened. This guy wore all black, and looked kind of jockish. And he just literally just added flames to the fire.
Who was this asshole? He had just apparently witnessed someone getting electrocuted to death by accident, and had just came over with a cigarette and started telling them what idiots they were? Not "Oh my god, is he okay?!" but more "you're idiots!".
He was rubbing their failure in their faces. Saying that Milo deserved it or something along those lines.
Aileen's fist clenched against the ground, and she once again started shaking, this time from anger. No one deserved that. He was just wandering over, telling them how much they screwed up.
Lifting herself off the ground as best as she could while avoiding her own vomit, she glared at him, feeling herself seethe as both hands loosened and tightened.
He had no right to just come over here and call them morons, rubbing their failure in their face and insulting a dead person. No one should insult a fucking dead person, especially one who had just died and you just witnessed the death of.
And the only words she could come up were...
"Fuck. Off. Seriously. Who are you, and why do you feel the fucking need to tell us where we screwed up? Because it isn't like we're FREAKING OUT OVER HERE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST JUST GO AWAY GO FUCK OFF AND PLAY YOUR DUMBASS KILLER GAMES!"
Aileen felt tears running down her face as she yelled.
She didn't want to deal with this.
Not right now.
Oh, but if she had been in any better a mental state, then what happened next would have been something she would have protested against a bit more.
The electricity transferred from the wire to Milo's collar, but it... didn't work.
He screamed. It wasn't just a small cry of pain. She could tell it genuinely hurt. It wasn't a good sound, and it was clear that not only wasn't working, but it was hurting him.
Aileen ripped the wire away as quickly as possible, and stepped back. No, she had to stop this right then and there! No use trying again if it hurt and didn't work! And he was injured. She didn't even need to look. He was pleading with her, looking up at her like some sort of injured animal. A smell of burnt flesh had filled the air, like some sort of demented barbecue.
She'd hurt him.
He was a douche, sure. But she'd never wish something like that on anyone. She didn't know that much about electricity. But she knew one thing; getting electrocuted was probably among the most painful things you could go through.
And then the beeping started.
Aileen could only watch as he started pleading with her again, but she was paralyzed with fear. What could she do? She couldn't save him. They'd noticed. Either that or the collar had gone off just from the electricity. It didn't matter at this point in what was going to happen next
There was a crack like a firework, and Aileen closed her eyes on instinct. She didn't want to look. He wasn't screaming anymore. She had already guessed what had happened.
But, she had to look. She was responsible for it.
Aileen opened her eyes again.
Milo was lying on the ground, his head resting in his own blood. The burnt barbecue smell continued to fill the air, like strange incense. Even now, he seemed to be staring at her, begging for this not to happen. But there was no life in those eyes.
"Aaron..." she tried to say, but her voice wavered.
A chill went up and down her body.
She was a murderer. Make no mistake about that. She'd killed him. And she knew how much it hurt, based on how long and loud he was screaming. Even if he somehow survived, he wouldn't have lasted for long.
What did she do?
Oh god, what did she do?
With shaking hands, Aileen removed the stripping wire from the camera's wire, and tossed it and the gloves as far as she could. She... didn't want them to be used again.
And she could hear yelling. Wearily moving her head towards the cause, she could see DuClare and Aaron arguing. According to her, he didn't deserve to be calm about this, and was grabbing the barrel of the gun asking him to...
No. She wasn't begging for him to shoot her, was she?
Aileen stared with transfixed eyes. If this was a different Aileen from before, one who hadn't been exposed to so much death, one who hadn't killed someone, then she would have just sighed and asked them to break it up, possibly while yelling.
But for once, Aileen couldn't say anything. She opened her mouth, and no words came out.
Aaron was upset. To be honest, she wasn't sure if he was sad, if he was disappointed his plan didn't work, or just upset because he was supposed to.
And DuClare tried to comfort him.
Aileen wasn't sure how to react to all this. It was like she was watching a movie, rather than partaking in real life. Only, however, she was seeing through her own eyes rather than a lens.
She felt something in her stomach suddenly, and she knew what was about to happen. The burnt corpse, Milo's death, DuClare and Aaron arguing, and her killing someone... oh jesus. The taste of bile was coming up in her mouth.
Aileen collapsed to the ground on her hands and knees, and, well, vomited.
As she breathed heavily from the stress and felt herself shiver, feeling like her body wanted to heave again, she could hear someone talking to them again. It wasn't everyone in the group, that was for certain. And it probably wasn't those guys that Aaron had scared off with the gun.
Aileen looked up.
It was another guy, glaring at them. He must have seen everything that had just happened. This guy wore all black, and looked kind of jockish. And he just literally just added flames to the fire.
Who was this asshole? He had just apparently witnessed someone getting electrocuted to death by accident, and had just came over with a cigarette and started telling them what idiots they were? Not "Oh my god, is he okay?!" but more "you're idiots!".
He was rubbing their failure in their faces. Saying that Milo deserved it or something along those lines.
Aileen's fist clenched against the ground, and she once again started shaking, this time from anger. No one deserved that. He was just wandering over, telling them how much they screwed up.
Lifting herself off the ground as best as she could while avoiding her own vomit, she glared at him, feeling herself seethe as both hands loosened and tightened.
He had no right to just come over here and call them morons, rubbing their failure in their face and insulting a dead person. No one should insult a fucking dead person, especially one who had just died and you just witnessed the death of.
And the only words she could come up were...
"Fuck. Off. Seriously. Who are you, and why do you feel the fucking need to tell us where we screwed up? Because it isn't like we're FREAKING OUT OVER HERE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST JUST GO AWAY GO FUCK OFF AND PLAY YOUR DUMBASS KILLER GAMES!"
Aileen felt tears running down her face as she yelled.
She didn't want to deal with this.
Not right now.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Apologies for skipping Jonny, but as he is Away and not on MSN right now and I know people are edging towards inactivity, I'm just going to have something nice and short that doesn't move things too far so we don't leave Charlie behind in the narrative.))
Aaron glanced up and froze. It seemed something had gone wrong here after all. He'd been so focused on neutralizing the threats within his group that he'd managed to let an outside one slip past him. The guy had a gun. Looked upset, but not immediately hostile. He started talking at them, though, ranting and calling them stupid and all sorts of other things. Aaron wanted to snap at him, wanted to explain that, yeah, of course it had killed the guy. That was rather the point. Sharing that tidbit would not be a good choice, though, not at all.
But the ranting, much as it steamed Aaron, bought him time to think, time to plan. It also bought Aileen to work herself into yet another towering rage, which she turned on the newcomer. Aaron let her go. It was a distraction. She was buying time for the group. She was buying time for Aaron to work out a way to get them out of this mess. He didn't bother responding to the rant point by point. He didn't get stuck in an argument. That could come later, when they were on even ground.
Instead, he turned to face the guy more directly, in the process maneuvering himself just a tiny bit closer to the gun. He wasn't going to start a firefight. He just hoped to, if it became necessary, force a stalemate.
"Look," he said, hoping he was giving his voice enough quiver. "We... this has been pretty awful for us. What do you even want?"
Aaron glanced up and froze. It seemed something had gone wrong here after all. He'd been so focused on neutralizing the threats within his group that he'd managed to let an outside one slip past him. The guy had a gun. Looked upset, but not immediately hostile. He started talking at them, though, ranting and calling them stupid and all sorts of other things. Aaron wanted to snap at him, wanted to explain that, yeah, of course it had killed the guy. That was rather the point. Sharing that tidbit would not be a good choice, though, not at all.
But the ranting, much as it steamed Aaron, bought him time to think, time to plan. It also bought Aileen to work herself into yet another towering rage, which she turned on the newcomer. Aaron let her go. It was a distraction. She was buying time for the group. She was buying time for Aaron to work out a way to get them out of this mess. He didn't bother responding to the rant point by point. He didn't get stuck in an argument. That could come later, when they were on even ground.
Instead, he turned to face the guy more directly, in the process maneuvering himself just a tiny bit closer to the gun. He wasn't going to start a firefight. He just hoped to, if it became necessary, force a stalemate.
"Look," he said, hoping he was giving his voice enough quiver. "We... this has been pretty awful for us. What do you even want?"