((Ericka Bradley continued from A Day at the Beach))
Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Afraid.
At this point those words could describe anyone on this island, except maybe those to which the word dead was a better description. By the time this was all over there would be a lot more in the latter category than in the former. Did that matter anymore? It wasn't like Ericka didn't care that all her classmates would die, it was just that... well... if she wanted to be the one to go home she couldn't care.
Her immediate concern now would be to restock her own, now low, food and water supplies. And since she had no clue how to hunt, forage, or purify water, she would have to steal those supplies from someone who already had them. More weapons wouldn't hurt either.
Voices. Shouting. People were nearby. Was this her chance?
She approached the source of the noises. There were more people there than she expected, and the whole group was already starting to fall apart. Maybe Ericka could use the chaos to get what she needed? She could wait until it was all over and scavenge the supplies... No, they'd all be taken by the people already there. If she could slip into the group unnoticed then maybe she could grab a bag or two and leave before anybody noticed her. With the amount of people that were in the group and the ongoing commotion, they couldn't keep track of everyone... could they?
After circling around the group she decided on an angle of approach and began cautiously moving towards them.
Eep.
That about sums it up.
She found herself losing her cool. There was a scared girl with a gun, and a boy with wounds looking for his knife, and she just wanted to start shooting. In the back of her mind she knew they all weren't so bad, but also that fear could change a person. If things didn't slow down soon, she knew she would absolutely lose it.
"ALRIGHT! IF EVERYBODY DOESN'T CALM THE FUCK DOWN, BITCHES ARE GOING TO START DYING!"
In retrospect, she could have handled that much better. But she had a gun and the beginnings of a nervous breakdown. She was tired and hungry, and she hadn't been in a situation this tense since she got dumped onto the island closest to hell. She wasn't sure if that was lucky or unlucky.
Her hand shook a little. She needed something, anything. She just needed to get off of that damn island and do teen things with her friends.
Any other time she might have laughed. The ones who would live were the ones who'd broken the rules and couldn't come on the trip, or the ones who were sick, or just anti-social enough to skip the trip. There was some kind of lesson there. Maybe that was what they were supposed to be learning. Maybe that's why they were doing this, and maybe they'd stop once the country learned.
Or maybe they're just evil.
"ALRIGHT! IF EVERYBODY DOESN'T CALM THE FUCK DOWN, BITCHES ARE GOING TO START DYING!"
In retrospect, she could have handled that much better. But she had a gun and the beginnings of a nervous breakdown. She was tired and hungry, and she hadn't been in a situation this tense since she got dumped onto the island closest to hell. She wasn't sure if that was lucky or unlucky.
Her hand shook a little. She needed something, anything. She just needed to get off of that damn island and do teen things with her friends.
Any other time she might have laughed. The ones who would live were the ones who'd broken the rules and couldn't come on the trip, or the ones who were sick, or just anti-social enough to skip the trip. There was some kind of lesson there. Maybe that was what they were supposed to be learning. Maybe that's why they were doing this, and maybe they'd stop once the country learned.
Or maybe they're just evil.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. 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.
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((Kari Nichols continued from Hmmmn))
Tired.
Such a good word. It described her perfectly. Fit her like a glove. She was tired, head to toe. Tired of seeing killers in every cranny, hearing ghosts whisper from every hole and shadow. Tired of hearing Danya gleefully rattle off the names of dead friends, tired of hearing him congratulate the newly-minted murderers. And above all, just plain tired.
Mizore wasn't in the Parish. She didn't even know why she was bothering to look for her any more, except it was something to do. It wouldn't like it would do any good. Mizore was probably safer without her, anyway. She could talk her way out of Alcatraz, confound the most hardened killers through sheer force of personality. Besides, Kari was a jynx. Bad luck. Everyone around her met their doom in short time. Maybe Mizore would be different, though. Maybe she hadn't had time to rub off on her.
A gunshot rippled across the landscape. Focus replaced fatigue. Just like on the beach. She broke into a run.
She skidded to a halt not far from the developing melee. Unfolded the stock of her SMG,held it up. Part of her wanted to just open fire, end everything. Part of her wanted to run away. And part of her wanted to figure out just what was going on.
"Oi! Just what's going on?"
Tired.
Such a good word. It described her perfectly. Fit her like a glove. She was tired, head to toe. Tired of seeing killers in every cranny, hearing ghosts whisper from every hole and shadow. Tired of hearing Danya gleefully rattle off the names of dead friends, tired of hearing him congratulate the newly-minted murderers. And above all, just plain tired.
Mizore wasn't in the Parish. She didn't even know why she was bothering to look for her any more, except it was something to do. It wouldn't like it would do any good. Mizore was probably safer without her, anyway. She could talk her way out of Alcatraz, confound the most hardened killers through sheer force of personality. Besides, Kari was a jynx. Bad luck. Everyone around her met their doom in short time. Maybe Mizore would be different, though. Maybe she hadn't had time to rub off on her.
A gunshot rippled across the landscape. Focus replaced fatigue. Just like on the beach. She broke into a run.
She skidded to a halt not far from the developing melee. Unfolded the stock of her SMG,held it up. Part of her wanted to just open fire, end everything. Part of her wanted to run away. And part of her wanted to figure out just what was going on.
"Oi! Just what's going on?"
Things were getting a little too intense for George. While he had a good chance of taking two people in a fight, being able to beat-what was it-seven or eight people was far beyond his physical abilities. Besides which, he had beaten in this girl's skull enough. She wouldn't be shooting anyone ever again or, for that matter, doing much of anything. So far as the wannabe adventurer was concerned, justice had been served with a tasteful garnish of grim satisfaction and a cool glass of ego boosting nectar. Many ballads would be sung of the great hero who broke a chair over the head of a scared girl who was shooting at someone who he couldn't care less about.
And broken it was. Staring down at the implement of justice in his shaking hands, George noticed that all but one of the legs had come off. Holding onto the back of the chair, he considered that this weapon did not seem to have much life left in its saggy wooden frame. Alas, but this new friend had already been broken and beaten beyond any use or repair. He would need to find something else that he could use, but that was a concern for a time when half a dozen folks weren't bearing down on him.
Fortunately for George, a few of the new folks were more distracted by the people with guns and knives than the hapless idiot running around with a piece of furniture. Ditching the chair to hasten his exit, he ran off into the trees, realizing that taking the road itself would open himself up too much to pistol fire. All things considered, it wasn't a worthless encounter, but it was hardly a productive one either. In the future, he would be better off assuming that the person on the other end was armed and dangerous, and react appropriately.
(George Leidman continued in Endings & Beginnings)
And broken it was. Staring down at the implement of justice in his shaking hands, George noticed that all but one of the legs had come off. Holding onto the back of the chair, he considered that this weapon did not seem to have much life left in its saggy wooden frame. Alas, but this new friend had already been broken and beaten beyond any use or repair. He would need to find something else that he could use, but that was a concern for a time when half a dozen folks weren't bearing down on him.
Fortunately for George, a few of the new folks were more distracted by the people with guns and knives than the hapless idiot running around with a piece of furniture. Ditching the chair to hasten his exit, he ran off into the trees, realizing that taking the road itself would open himself up too much to pistol fire. All things considered, it wasn't a worthless encounter, but it was hardly a productive one either. In the future, he would be better off assuming that the person on the other end was armed and dangerous, and react appropriately.
(George Leidman continued in Endings & Beginnings)
Before she could process what the hell was going on, Stacy turned toward the shout that had just rang out. It belonged to a girl with a gun. A big gun. From everything that Stacy could gather it also had a lot of bullets and could fire them very quickly. That was bad.
A thousand thoughts surged through Stacy's head in a very short frame of time, and soon it was pounding. Then it was all down to one; We are so fucked..
Her movements were almost mechanical, and she wasn't even fully sure that she was really doing what she thought she was until she felt her finger pulling the trigger back. As a bullet exploded from the barrel of the revolver and the force made her lose her footing, she had just a moment to reflect on the experience. Some people might think about the fact that they'd just shot at somebody who had just come to the wrong place at the wrong time, with the misfortune of having a very scary looking weapon, but Stacy only had time for one thought after her first time using a gun.
She hadn't expected that much resistance from the trigger, or that much kick. But then again, what the hell do I know about guns?
A thousand thoughts surged through Stacy's head in a very short frame of time, and soon it was pounding. Then it was all down to one; We are so fucked..
Her movements were almost mechanical, and she wasn't even fully sure that she was really doing what she thought she was until she felt her finger pulling the trigger back. As a bullet exploded from the barrel of the revolver and the force made her lose her footing, she had just a moment to reflect on the experience. Some people might think about the fact that they'd just shot at somebody who had just come to the wrong place at the wrong time, with the misfortune of having a very scary looking weapon, but Stacy only had time for one thought after her first time using a gun.
She hadn't expected that much resistance from the trigger, or that much kick. But then again, what the hell do I know about guns?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. 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.
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
CRACK
She'd wanted to find out the source of the chaos, figure out who the shooter was, try to stop everything from going to Hell in a handbasket. Well, she'd found her target. It was no contest; the other girl's gun jumped in her hands, and her shot went wide. Perfect. Kari had spent a week on the island, a week preparing for this moment but never firing a single shot. That was about to change. She dashed off to one side - she had a heck of a sideache, that run over seemed to have taken a lot out of her - and slid into a kneeling position. One hand squeezing the safety release, the other fingering the trigger-
Cool and collected. Just another competition. One I'm going to win.
She squeezed the trigger, shattering the wall between life and death.
RAT-TAT
Her eyes squeezed shut..
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
She forced them open again.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
How many was that? Ten? Fifteen? She honestly didn't care. That feeling, the cacophonous bursts, the smoke, the muzzle flash, recoil pushing the muzzle skyward, spraying lead like she didn't even care, it was exhilarating. There was no other word for it. A week she'd been carrying that gun, watching classmate after classmate die, and now it was all coming together. There was nothing more exciting, someone had once said, then being shot at without result. Well, she thought, they were right.
She heaved herself up on shaking legs and made another short dash. She was breathing heavily now. Very heavily. The knot in her side was spreading to her stomach. She hadn't felt like this since... well, ever. Her stage was the world now, and she was playing her part perfectly. Taking out someone who deserved it. Being a competitor. Making her mark. Something she could be proud of.
She buried her knee in the dusty road lifting her weapon. Again she pulled the trigger. This time a full score of bullets sprayed downrange. Her arm wobbled. The gun kicked itself into the sky again. She got to her feet once more, this time unsteadily. One wobbling step, another, and then her legs buckled completely. What was going on? She touched her side, and her hand came up drip-
NO!
Kari flicked her hand, sending droplets of blood spattering onto the ground, where a shining pool was forming already. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't. It just didn't make sense. She'd missed, darnit, Stacy missed her. She was going to be fine. Just fine. She tried to stand. Instead, she fell forward onto her hands. The ground spun. Any moment now, she'd wake up. It was all a dream. This whole trip was one fevered dream. A nightmare. Stephen had teased her about it before she'd gone to bed, like any older brother would. And then she told him she'd fight the world and come out on top, just to see him again. Like a younger sister would. They'd shared their little joke. Laughed about it. And now she'd killed someone. It had to be a dream then. Would she really do that in real life? The world spun around-
NO!
A burning hot vice was squeezing her stomach inside-out. She felt as if she would vomit the whole thing up at once. Dreams didn't feel like that. It took all her strength to heave herself back up onto her knees. Something ripped inside, or felt like it. She wasn't going to be getting any further, that much was obvious. She lacked the strength to stand now, but she wasn't letting Death take her just yet. She still had working arms, and she was going to wave goodbye.
Fumbling despite her practice, she released the first magazine from her gun and clicked the replacement in. Holding it in trembling arms, she flipped the gun sideways and pulled the trigger one last time. Recoil pulled the muzzle not vertically but horizontally now, spraying her ammunition in a wide arc. The gun clicked. She wobbled, then toppled onto her back-
No!
To die, to sleep. It was all the same. She just had to stay awake. Vision swimming, she reached into her pocket with one shaking hand and pulled out her Rubik's cube. She had to have just one more go. You got to play a game with Death, didn't you? Finish, that's all she had to do. Cross, FTL, OLL, PLL. Her fingers had run through the algorithms thousands of times before. She'd win her soul, and then the audience. G090 wasn't dying in a pool of blood and tears. Kari Nichols was doing what she did best, and the universe was at stake. She gave it a couple twists. Shattered pieces sloughed away. The whole thing crumbled. In a way, though, it had already been solved. Every side was red.
no...
She coughed. Blood and bile splashed across her lip, burned the back of her throat. Gasping for breath now. Millions of people could see her, but she'd never felt more alone in her life. The people she'd saved paid her no heed as she lay broken on the ground. Maybe now, her breathing shallow and labored, they thought she was dead already. She had to get up, show them she was alive. Why couldn't she move her arms?
please...
She slept.
G090: Kari Nichols: Deceased
She'd wanted to find out the source of the chaos, figure out who the shooter was, try to stop everything from going to Hell in a handbasket. Well, she'd found her target. It was no contest; the other girl's gun jumped in her hands, and her shot went wide. Perfect. Kari had spent a week on the island, a week preparing for this moment but never firing a single shot. That was about to change. She dashed off to one side - she had a heck of a sideache, that run over seemed to have taken a lot out of her - and slid into a kneeling position. One hand squeezing the safety release, the other fingering the trigger-
Cool and collected. Just another competition. One I'm going to win.
She squeezed the trigger, shattering the wall between life and death.
RAT-TAT
Her eyes squeezed shut..
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
She forced them open again.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
How many was that? Ten? Fifteen? She honestly didn't care. That feeling, the cacophonous bursts, the smoke, the muzzle flash, recoil pushing the muzzle skyward, spraying lead like she didn't even care, it was exhilarating. There was no other word for it. A week she'd been carrying that gun, watching classmate after classmate die, and now it was all coming together. There was nothing more exciting, someone had once said, then being shot at without result. Well, she thought, they were right.
She heaved herself up on shaking legs and made another short dash. She was breathing heavily now. Very heavily. The knot in her side was spreading to her stomach. She hadn't felt like this since... well, ever. Her stage was the world now, and she was playing her part perfectly. Taking out someone who deserved it. Being a competitor. Making her mark. Something she could be proud of.
She buried her knee in the dusty road lifting her weapon. Again she pulled the trigger. This time a full score of bullets sprayed downrange. Her arm wobbled. The gun kicked itself into the sky again. She got to her feet once more, this time unsteadily. One wobbling step, another, and then her legs buckled completely. What was going on? She touched her side, and her hand came up drip-
NO!
Kari flicked her hand, sending droplets of blood spattering onto the ground, where a shining pool was forming already. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't. It just didn't make sense. She'd missed, darnit, Stacy missed her. She was going to be fine. Just fine. She tried to stand. Instead, she fell forward onto her hands. The ground spun. Any moment now, she'd wake up. It was all a dream. This whole trip was one fevered dream. A nightmare. Stephen had teased her about it before she'd gone to bed, like any older brother would. And then she told him she'd fight the world and come out on top, just to see him again. Like a younger sister would. They'd shared their little joke. Laughed about it. And now she'd killed someone. It had to be a dream then. Would she really do that in real life? The world spun around-
NO!
A burning hot vice was squeezing her stomach inside-out. She felt as if she would vomit the whole thing up at once. Dreams didn't feel like that. It took all her strength to heave herself back up onto her knees. Something ripped inside, or felt like it. She wasn't going to be getting any further, that much was obvious. She lacked the strength to stand now, but she wasn't letting Death take her just yet. She still had working arms, and she was going to wave goodbye.
Fumbling despite her practice, she released the first magazine from her gun and clicked the replacement in. Holding it in trembling arms, she flipped the gun sideways and pulled the trigger one last time. Recoil pulled the muzzle not vertically but horizontally now, spraying her ammunition in a wide arc. The gun clicked. She wobbled, then toppled onto her back-
No!
To die, to sleep. It was all the same. She just had to stay awake. Vision swimming, she reached into her pocket with one shaking hand and pulled out her Rubik's cube. She had to have just one more go. You got to play a game with Death, didn't you? Finish, that's all she had to do. Cross, FTL, OLL, PLL. Her fingers had run through the algorithms thousands of times before. She'd win her soul, and then the audience. G090 wasn't dying in a pool of blood and tears. Kari Nichols was doing what she did best, and the universe was at stake. She gave it a couple twists. Shattered pieces sloughed away. The whole thing crumbled. In a way, though, it had already been solved. Every side was red.
no...
She coughed. Blood and bile splashed across her lip, burned the back of her throat. Gasping for breath now. Millions of people could see her, but she'd never felt more alone in her life. The people she'd saved paid her no heed as she lay broken on the ground. Maybe now, her breathing shallow and labored, they thought she was dead already. She had to get up, show them she was alive. Why couldn't she move her arms?
please...
She slept.
G090: Kari Nichols: Deceased
For future reference, never shoot at a girl with a sub-machine gun.
Stacy had read once how many gunshots to non-vital areas the human body could survive. She wasn't sure how many that was, but as she fell to the ground she had the feeling that she'd probably come pretty damn close to it. She dropped her gun as she lay on the ground and tried to figure out where she'd been hit.
The funny thing about grievous injury was that the brain stopped registering pain once it got too horrible. Or it just shut the body down. She read that somewhere, she was sure. As she thought on it, it slowly dawned on her just how badly her entire body hurt, and how wet she felt. Especially her stomach. Maybe it would have been a better idea to just run, but if that's where she died, it wasn't so bad. At least she got a few moments to say goodbye. She called out weakly to the only person she could think of at that moment.
"Sarah..."
((I'm hoping for one post of interaction with Sarah, then Stacy dies on my next post.))
Stacy had read once how many gunshots to non-vital areas the human body could survive. She wasn't sure how many that was, but as she fell to the ground she had the feeling that she'd probably come pretty damn close to it. She dropped her gun as she lay on the ground and tried to figure out where she'd been hit.
The funny thing about grievous injury was that the brain stopped registering pain once it got too horrible. Or it just shut the body down. She read that somewhere, she was sure. As she thought on it, it slowly dawned on her just how badly her entire body hurt, and how wet she felt. Especially her stomach. Maybe it would have been a better idea to just run, but if that's where she died, it wasn't so bad. At least she got a few moments to say goodbye. She called out weakly to the only person she could think of at that moment.
"Sarah..."
((I'm hoping for one post of interaction with Sarah, then Stacy dies on my next post.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. 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.
What on earth...Gloria did this? There...there was no way that was possible! Gloria didn't even have a weapon, except for...oh no, that knife in her arm! She...she had to help her!
"Remy...Remy, let me look at that, I-I might be able to fix that up. Both of you, pleas-"
But then, Stacy started yelling, and...no, she had that gun! She...she couldn't do anything with that, no!
"Stacy, wha-"
Someone else was yelling now, another girl with ANOTHER GUN appeared! And unlike Stacy, she was aiming it at all of them. Wh-what was happening now? She...she couldn't be playing, no! Sarah wanted to yell out, she wanted to stop this all from going in a terrible, terrible direction.
But then Stacy did something unspeakable - she pulled the trigger on the gun. What followed was possibly one of the loudest things Sarah had ever heard in her life, louder than the shuddering bang that still resonated when she slammed into that warehouse wall, louder than anything.
Her tiny ears were ringing, and Sarah couldn't help but scream.
"Stacy! No-"
The sound wouldn't stop. Suddenly, more loud pops cracked through the air, and nothing stopped Sarah from pulling herself to the ground, her knees suddenly so close and comfortably snug in her face, and her hands flung over her head as the sounds kept
Rat-tat-tat-tat
on
Rat-tat-tat-tat
coming.
And Sarah wouldn't
stop
screaming and screaming.
No! NO! HELP! PLEASE!
She could hear little puffs of dirt fly into the ear with each bullet that impacted the ground around her, and this terrified her even more. She tried to curl herself up into a smaller ball, but even she knew that was just worthless.
But...they stopped.
The sound of silence greeted her.
She pulled her hair out from in front of her face, and looked around at the devastation the girl with the gun had caused. No idea as to what was happening, no idea how the others were, but...
...no...
"STACY!"
Sarah scrambled across the dirt road towards Stacy, who...oh god, she'd been hit so bad, there was...there was blood everywhere. She couldn't tell where it was coming from, there was so much of it, everywhere. She just...held Stacy and tried to figure out what to do.
"S-s-s-s-tacy, I-I-I can-can..." Sarah stuttered madly, trying to force just something out.
I...I...I can save her! I need to save her!
She rapidly unzipped her bag, prying around for something, just anything to help Stacy. All these medicines, all these equipments, everything in her bag, it...it meant gibberish! She couldn't think, she needed to think about what she needed to do to save Stacy...
"I-I don't know what to do..." Sarah tried to croak out.
"Remy...Remy, let me look at that, I-I might be able to fix that up. Both of you, pleas-"
But then, Stacy started yelling, and...no, she had that gun! She...she couldn't do anything with that, no!
"Stacy, wha-"
Someone else was yelling now, another girl with ANOTHER GUN appeared! And unlike Stacy, she was aiming it at all of them. Wh-what was happening now? She...she couldn't be playing, no! Sarah wanted to yell out, she wanted to stop this all from going in a terrible, terrible direction.
But then Stacy did something unspeakable - she pulled the trigger on the gun. What followed was possibly one of the loudest things Sarah had ever heard in her life, louder than the shuddering bang that still resonated when she slammed into that warehouse wall, louder than anything.
Her tiny ears were ringing, and Sarah couldn't help but scream.
"Stacy! No-"
The sound wouldn't stop. Suddenly, more loud pops cracked through the air, and nothing stopped Sarah from pulling herself to the ground, her knees suddenly so close and comfortably snug in her face, and her hands flung over her head as the sounds kept
Rat-tat-tat-tat
on
Rat-tat-tat-tat
coming.
And Sarah wouldn't
stop
screaming and screaming.
No! NO! HELP! PLEASE!
She could hear little puffs of dirt fly into the ear with each bullet that impacted the ground around her, and this terrified her even more. She tried to curl herself up into a smaller ball, but even she knew that was just worthless.
But...they stopped.
The sound of silence greeted her.
She pulled her hair out from in front of her face, and looked around at the devastation the girl with the gun had caused. No idea as to what was happening, no idea how the others were, but...
...no...
"STACY!"
Sarah scrambled across the dirt road towards Stacy, who...oh god, she'd been hit so bad, there was...there was blood everywhere. She couldn't tell where it was coming from, there was so much of it, everywhere. She just...held Stacy and tried to figure out what to do.
"S-s-s-s-tacy, I-I-I can-can..." Sarah stuttered madly, trying to force just something out.
I...I...I can save her! I need to save her!
She rapidly unzipped her bag, prying around for something, just anything to help Stacy. All these medicines, all these equipments, everything in her bag, it...it meant gibberish! She couldn't think, she needed to think about what she needed to do to save Stacy...
"I-I don't know what to do..." Sarah tried to croak out.
She let out a cough and looked up at her friend. Things weren't so bad. She had Sarah, and that was good. Her speech was strained, and she knew that each word would cost her a few seconds, but she was also painfully aware that she needed to be in a real hospital if she were going to survive. The wounds were just too bad for a few bandages to fix.
"Sarah...you're alright. Good..." she tried to raise an arm to touch the girl's face, but she found that she was too weak. "I guess I did lose the game. Heh..." Stacy coughed again and tried to focus her attention as her mind wandered, lost in itself. "I wish we had spent more time together at school. We would have made good friends, right?"
Her body started to feel very cold as everything started shutting down.
So this is what dying feels like...
She wanted to say more, so much more, but there just wasn't time. She wanted to ask if she'd killed that girl. The gunfire had stopped and she only saw and heard Sarah. She must have done it. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, so she decided not to let if bother her. She did what she had to do. That's all.
"Goodbye, Sarah Tan. Stay safe for me."
She reached deep inside herself and managed a smile. There was a bright light, and a deep darkness. And then she was gone, the smile never fading from her lips.
Female Student no. 032, Stacy Hart - Deceased
"Sarah...you're alright. Good..." she tried to raise an arm to touch the girl's face, but she found that she was too weak. "I guess I did lose the game. Heh..." Stacy coughed again and tried to focus her attention as her mind wandered, lost in itself. "I wish we had spent more time together at school. We would have made good friends, right?"
Her body started to feel very cold as everything started shutting down.
So this is what dying feels like...
She wanted to say more, so much more, but there just wasn't time. She wanted to ask if she'd killed that girl. The gunfire had stopped and she only saw and heard Sarah. She must have done it. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, so she decided not to let if bother her. She did what she had to do. That's all.
"Goodbye, Sarah Tan. Stay safe for me."
She reached deep inside herself and managed a smile. There was a bright light, and a deep darkness. And then she was gone, the smile never fading from her lips.
Female Student no. 032, Stacy Hart - Deceased
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. 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.
((GMing approved by TDS))
Sarah wanted to look at the injuries?
But, that girl had attacked him! She had shot at him, made him bleed, he was losing blood... she didn't deserve to live! And she might have wanted to use the idea of patching them both up to get at him, to end him. Even someone like Sarah could turn out to be another psycho. He didn't want her to be, though. He didn't want to fight her too. She couldn't. And yet, deep down, he knew. Sarah was just another person here. She could be up to something. Right? Sarah Tan, turning against her old friend, the first friend she made at Bayview. Kind of poetic, in a way.
Remy, despite his blurring and dimming vision, gave her an odd look. Seriously. Why was she so enthusiastic about patching them both up? It made no sense. It made no sense... why did it have to be that she offered...
Yelling. And then... gunshots.
Remy found himself ducking towards the ground.
The rat-tat-tats blared in his ears, very louding and, along with him falling on his arm, made him wince. A gunfight? No, that wasn't it. Wait, yes it was! Holy shit, fucking Sarah! She had invited all sorts of sickos over! She probably was concerned about that girl because she was working with her! God damn! She... she was a liar. A manipulative bitch. She was trying to get on his good side.
Remy laid with his face towards the ground, not wanting to get up. He didn't want to get up. But he knew he had to. He lifted his head, and....
Sarah was crying. She was crying over one of the girls. Not the girl who had attacked him. He didn't notice this girl. This girl was somewhat punky looking... and Sarah was crying over her. And the girl... she was... she trying her best to comfort Sarah.
And before anyone knew it, the girl was gone. No more.
"Sarah...?" he asked again.
And at that moment, a veil that had been covering his mind had been removed. For the first time, Remy realized what was going on.
These kids were... they were... just like him. Scared. They had families too. They didn't want to fight, just like him. Sarah didn't want to fight. And that girl... she had befriended Sarah. Enough for her to cry over her. He didn't like it when she cried. Sarah was sad.
And then he remembered. He had tried to kill Cisco, and would have succeeded if he wasn't stopped at the last minute. He killed that guy with the rabbit. And that girl... she wasn't going to make it, was she?
Maybe... maybe he couldn't have done that?
He thought of how these kids had families. Just like... just like... him. Mom? She wasn't happy, that was for sure. And when his sister found out... she wasn't going to be pleased. She wanted them both to get off the island, not for one to run around stabbing people like a maniac.
And he wanted to avenge Reika.... but it wasn't what she would have wanted, was it? Reika, like Sarah, was a good person. She wouldn't have wanted this to happen to him, because of... because of her.
It was surprising, really, just how viewing one scene could open one's eyes. Although Remy Kim might one day have another episode of paranoia, for now, his eyes were open.
He didn't have to kill. Sarah... Sarah had managed to stay a good person. Even if she was the only one to stay good. Sarah had found a way. She was scared, but even in those few minutes... he could tell she saw the same Sarah Tan he met that day. She still cared. She didn't want to kill, did she?
And Remy became aware of his knife still in his hand, and his favorite baseball hat on the ground. He found himself pushing the knife away, and disregarding the hat. And, soon he was crawling on his knees and his one undamaged arm
He needed to talk to her. She was scared. He was too.
Just this once.
"Sarah..."
He took a gulp of air, and attempted to look at the girl.
"Sarah... I... I think I should... I can keep you safe... I've hurt people before.. but..."
Holy shit, he was crying. He felt sorry for a lot of things. Doubting Sarah, doubting pretty much everyone, being a... murderer. He knew it was harsh to admit, but there it was.
"I've done bad things here... but... I still have a chance... I still have a chance... don't I? I'm still Remy Kim deep down, right?"
He wasn't aware of Ericka Bradley pointing a gun at his head. But he smiled, a sad. tearful smile as best as he could given the circumstances.
He wanted to find Josée. She had said that she wanted at least one of them to come home, right? Josée... Josée was the better twin in the end. Mom probably liked her better right now. She wasn't a killer. She was a bitch, but she wasn't a murderer. Needless to say, she had won that argument fair and square.
And he wanted Sarah and Reiko to live, too. He had a chance. He could do the right thing, regardless of what he had done today. He still had his chance.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You've... you've been a great fri-"
His train of thought and his speech had been interrupted by a bullet entering the back of his skull.
Male Student #080 Remy Kim- ELIMINATED
Sarah wanted to look at the injuries?
But, that girl had attacked him! She had shot at him, made him bleed, he was losing blood... she didn't deserve to live! And she might have wanted to use the idea of patching them both up to get at him, to end him. Even someone like Sarah could turn out to be another psycho. He didn't want her to be, though. He didn't want to fight her too. She couldn't. And yet, deep down, he knew. Sarah was just another person here. She could be up to something. Right? Sarah Tan, turning against her old friend, the first friend she made at Bayview. Kind of poetic, in a way.
Remy, despite his blurring and dimming vision, gave her an odd look. Seriously. Why was she so enthusiastic about patching them both up? It made no sense. It made no sense... why did it have to be that she offered...
Yelling. And then... gunshots.
Remy found himself ducking towards the ground.
The rat-tat-tats blared in his ears, very louding and, along with him falling on his arm, made him wince. A gunfight? No, that wasn't it. Wait, yes it was! Holy shit, fucking Sarah! She had invited all sorts of sickos over! She probably was concerned about that girl because she was working with her! God damn! She... she was a liar. A manipulative bitch. She was trying to get on his good side.
Remy laid with his face towards the ground, not wanting to get up. He didn't want to get up. But he knew he had to. He lifted his head, and....
Sarah was crying. She was crying over one of the girls. Not the girl who had attacked him. He didn't notice this girl. This girl was somewhat punky looking... and Sarah was crying over her. And the girl... she was... she trying her best to comfort Sarah.
And before anyone knew it, the girl was gone. No more.
"Sarah...?" he asked again.
And at that moment, a veil that had been covering his mind had been removed. For the first time, Remy realized what was going on.
These kids were... they were... just like him. Scared. They had families too. They didn't want to fight, just like him. Sarah didn't want to fight. And that girl... she had befriended Sarah. Enough for her to cry over her. He didn't like it when she cried. Sarah was sad.
And then he remembered. He had tried to kill Cisco, and would have succeeded if he wasn't stopped at the last minute. He killed that guy with the rabbit. And that girl... she wasn't going to make it, was she?
Maybe... maybe he couldn't have done that?
He thought of how these kids had families. Just like... just like... him. Mom? She wasn't happy, that was for sure. And when his sister found out... she wasn't going to be pleased. She wanted them both to get off the island, not for one to run around stabbing people like a maniac.
And he wanted to avenge Reika.... but it wasn't what she would have wanted, was it? Reika, like Sarah, was a good person. She wouldn't have wanted this to happen to him, because of... because of her.
It was surprising, really, just how viewing one scene could open one's eyes. Although Remy Kim might one day have another episode of paranoia, for now, his eyes were open.
He didn't have to kill. Sarah... Sarah had managed to stay a good person. Even if she was the only one to stay good. Sarah had found a way. She was scared, but even in those few minutes... he could tell she saw the same Sarah Tan he met that day. She still cared. She didn't want to kill, did she?
And Remy became aware of his knife still in his hand, and his favorite baseball hat on the ground. He found himself pushing the knife away, and disregarding the hat. And, soon he was crawling on his knees and his one undamaged arm
He needed to talk to her. She was scared. He was too.
Just this once.
"Sarah..."
He took a gulp of air, and attempted to look at the girl.
"Sarah... I... I think I should... I can keep you safe... I've hurt people before.. but..."
Holy shit, he was crying. He felt sorry for a lot of things. Doubting Sarah, doubting pretty much everyone, being a... murderer. He knew it was harsh to admit, but there it was.
"I've done bad things here... but... I still have a chance... I still have a chance... don't I? I'm still Remy Kim deep down, right?"
He wasn't aware of Ericka Bradley pointing a gun at his head. But he smiled, a sad. tearful smile as best as he could given the circumstances.
He wanted to find Josée. She had said that she wanted at least one of them to come home, right? Josée... Josée was the better twin in the end. Mom probably liked her better right now. She wasn't a killer. She was a bitch, but she wasn't a murderer. Needless to say, she had won that argument fair and square.
And he wanted Sarah and Reiko to live, too. He had a chance. He could do the right thing, regardless of what he had done today. He still had his chance.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You've... you've been a great fri-"
His train of thought and his speech had been interrupted by a bullet entering the back of his skull.
Male Student #080 Remy Kim- ELIMINATED
So close. But, then again, the plan hadn't been a particularly smart one. The hostilities in the group reached the breaking point, as expected, but there seemed to be more guns then she was comfortable with. If she had approached this differently she probably would have been hit with stray gunfire.
The girls that had been shooting were dead. There were few people left, it wouldn't take much for Ericka to be noticed, and it would be easy for one of those remaining to pick up a gun and shoot her before she got away. But she could still even the odds a bit before that happened.
Choosing a target became easy once Remy mentioned having hurt people before. Given what little of the conversation Ericka had heard it seemed like he would be the one likely to retaliate in quick and deadly manner. She drew her own gun from it's holster, carefully aimed it, and squeezed the trigger.
Wow. One shot, one kill? Ericka smirked in satisfaction; If her recent lucky streak kept up she might actually have a shot at getting of this stupid dirt-patch.
The girls that had been shooting were dead. There were few people left, it wouldn't take much for Ericka to be noticed, and it would be easy for one of those remaining to pick up a gun and shoot her before she got away. But she could still even the odds a bit before that happened.
Choosing a target became easy once Remy mentioned having hurt people before. Given what little of the conversation Ericka had heard it seemed like he would be the one likely to retaliate in quick and deadly manner. She drew her own gun from it's holster, carefully aimed it, and squeezed the trigger.
Wow. One shot, one kill? Ericka smirked in satisfaction; If her recent lucky streak kept up she might actually have a shot at getting of this stupid dirt-patch.
There was too much going on at once just then. People were shouting, screaming, crying--too many new voices, Gloria didn't dare look up or roll over to look at who they all belonged to. Her head was killing her by now, he arm hurt so much and it felt too warm and there was more of the warmth--sticky warmth too--beneath her...
What'd I do? she thought, sobbing loudly despite the earlier shout for everyone to calm down. She couldn't calm down--she'd been attacked and she hurt! Despite everything around her, that was all she could focus on right now, that someone had run out at her, two someones had run out and attacked her and...
I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything to them! she wailed internally.
The noise was too loud, it felt like she was living in an explosion...was that thunder, or bullets? Someone else was crying, either that or she was crying louder...
Can't think...c-c-can't...think...
"H-Help..." she sobbed, trying to push herself forward again. She had to get out of here, get out of the explosion, get away from everyone. "S-Someone...h-ha...h-help...M-Mich...haaah..."
Her words, why were her words so hard to get out?! Everything was getting fuzzier, her head was hurting even worse than ever and she didn't know why...
She didn't know why anything was happening anymore! B...Bah...bad?
"H-Help m-m...ee..."
What'd I do? she thought, sobbing loudly despite the earlier shout for everyone to calm down. She couldn't calm down--she'd been attacked and she hurt! Despite everything around her, that was all she could focus on right now, that someone had run out at her, two someones had run out and attacked her and...
I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything to them! she wailed internally.
The noise was too loud, it felt like she was living in an explosion...was that thunder, or bullets? Someone else was crying, either that or she was crying louder...
Can't think...c-c-can't...think...
"H-Help..." she sobbed, trying to push herself forward again. She had to get out of here, get out of the explosion, get away from everyone. "S-Someone...h-ha...h-help...M-Mich...haaah..."
Her words, why were her words so hard to get out?! Everything was getting fuzzier, her head was hurting even worse than ever and she didn't know why...
She didn't know why anything was happening anymore! B...Bah...bad?
"H-Help m-m...ee..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. 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.
-
Sunnybunny
- Posts: 384
- Joined: Fri May 17, 2019 7:35 pm
(Samya Franklin countinued from Hmm)
More loud noises and more blood. More being too late to save, and more screwing up. Where the hell was Zach?
Sammy needed her best friend. If he wasn't before, he damn sure was now.
"Zach! Zach, this isn't funny! But it's fine . . . you don't have a gun, don't follow me! Just stay w-wherever you are!" She was getting more than a little hysterical. Zach had been her link to finding old Sammy, and without him, she was that broken doll again. She already looked like a killer, all the blood staining her clothes (her broken heart). . . and now she felt like one too.
More dead bodies, a dying body. A girl with a gun. Samya turned her attention to her, instead of the other.
"You're a killer . . ." Not a question. A statement.
Said girl now has a gun pointed neatly at her face, slowly headed towards point blank range. If she wanted to shoot, she could. Samya didn't really care about much anymore.
I JUST SAW KARI . . . my fault, my fucking fault! Should have followed her closer! I hope that other girl can at least crawl away . . .
More loud noises and more blood. More being too late to save, and more screwing up. Where the hell was Zach?
Sammy needed her best friend. If he wasn't before, he damn sure was now.
"Zach! Zach, this isn't funny! But it's fine . . . you don't have a gun, don't follow me! Just stay w-wherever you are!" She was getting more than a little hysterical. Zach had been her link to finding old Sammy, and without him, she was that broken doll again. She already looked like a killer, all the blood staining her clothes (her broken heart). . . and now she felt like one too.
More dead bodies, a dying body. A girl with a gun. Samya turned her attention to her, instead of the other.
"You're a killer . . ." Not a question. A statement.
Said girl now has a gun pointed neatly at her face, slowly headed towards point blank range. If she wanted to shoot, she could. Samya didn't really care about much anymore.
I JUST SAW KARI . . . my fault, my fucking fault! Should have followed her closer! I hope that other girl can at least crawl away . . .
VII
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
(Zach Jamis continued from Hmmm)
Of course Zach wasn't going to listen to that. Not to Sam when she was having a fit. Jesus. Way to keep yourself together Sam. No wonder Zach found himself wandering away from her. Just being around her was like having a panic attack.
He stepped out into the open, right behind Sam. Oh yeah. There was a girl with a gun wasn't there? He wasn't alone. Huh. You know, Zach almost looked like he didn't care. Zach's expression remained relatively neutral as he looked over the scene. Over at Kari. He didn't want to blame himself for what happened. Her choices were her choices, nothing more, nothing less.
Zach appeared to be unaffected by the events going around. Yes. About the only thing that had his attention was Kari's body. He wandered over to it.
He could have said something along the lines of how Kari was stupid for running out here and getting killed. He didn't do that though. He kept silent for a long second. He noticed the bullets. Jesus. Did Kari go down like a man? Zach wasn't impressed. But he was respectful.
"Guess I shouldn't have let you go up front." He said.
He picked up the machine gun. He didn't have a problem lifting it. It felt like a feather in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around the base. And then, right then, he realized the scene. Shit. There was a lot of blood. Zach grimaced.
"This," Zach mumbled, "This some repugnant shit."
Now whatchu gonna do Zach?
What 'you gonna do?
...
...
...
He said, rising up, grabbing Kari's bag with the other. Way to fucking look out for your brothers Kari. Two fucking clips and you only hit one person. Just as well. Zach wasn't planning on using it anyway. The others certainly didn't know that, did they? All they knew that he had a machine gun. That's what he was hoping on.
Zach moved the clip back in, as if he were really reloading.
"Sam. Don't go getting all fucking emotional on me. Not now."
He turned.
"Guess you guys made a mess." Zach huffed, almost in a disgusted way. "Now. Drop everything you've got. Me and my friend aren't the kind who likes to wait around."
He didn't have a plan. But he could certainly pretend that he did. He held the gun up. He pointed it at Goggles, but he kept his eyes peeled on the crying lass. Could be crocodile tears for all he knew. Bitch could be planning to cap him from across the field. That would certainly be embarrassing.
"I'll give all of you to the count of three. Drop your shit. And I don't mean just your bags. I mean the guns. The ammo. Everything." He grit his teeth. "We're going to have a nice conversation about what the fuck just happened, and I would prefer there not to be a bloodbath. Don't want to ruin my boots."
Of course Zach wasn't going to listen to that. Not to Sam when she was having a fit. Jesus. Way to keep yourself together Sam. No wonder Zach found himself wandering away from her. Just being around her was like having a panic attack.
He stepped out into the open, right behind Sam. Oh yeah. There was a girl with a gun wasn't there? He wasn't alone. Huh. You know, Zach almost looked like he didn't care. Zach's expression remained relatively neutral as he looked over the scene. Over at Kari. He didn't want to blame himself for what happened. Her choices were her choices, nothing more, nothing less.
Zach appeared to be unaffected by the events going around. Yes. About the only thing that had his attention was Kari's body. He wandered over to it.
He could have said something along the lines of how Kari was stupid for running out here and getting killed. He didn't do that though. He kept silent for a long second. He noticed the bullets. Jesus. Did Kari go down like a man? Zach wasn't impressed. But he was respectful.
"Guess I shouldn't have let you go up front." He said.
He picked up the machine gun. He didn't have a problem lifting it. It felt like a feather in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around the base. And then, right then, he realized the scene. Shit. There was a lot of blood. Zach grimaced.
"This," Zach mumbled, "This some repugnant shit."
Now whatchu gonna do Zach?
What 'you gonna do?
...
...
...
He said, rising up, grabbing Kari's bag with the other. Way to fucking look out for your brothers Kari. Two fucking clips and you only hit one person. Just as well. Zach wasn't planning on using it anyway. The others certainly didn't know that, did they? All they knew that he had a machine gun. That's what he was hoping on.
Zach moved the clip back in, as if he were really reloading.
"Sam. Don't go getting all fucking emotional on me. Not now."
He turned.
"Guess you guys made a mess." Zach huffed, almost in a disgusted way. "Now. Drop everything you've got. Me and my friend aren't the kind who likes to wait around."
He didn't have a plan. But he could certainly pretend that he did. He held the gun up. He pointed it at Goggles, but he kept his eyes peeled on the crying lass. Could be crocodile tears for all he knew. Bitch could be planning to cap him from across the field. That would certainly be embarrassing.
"I'll give all of you to the count of three. Drop your shit. And I don't mean just your bags. I mean the guns. The ammo. Everything." He grit his teeth. "We're going to have a nice conversation about what the fuck just happened, and I would prefer there not to be a bloodbath. Don't want to ruin my boots."
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.
-
Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
Oh, this was bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. Bad. Very bad. Hadn't they come this way to, you know, avoid conflict? Like, this was probably the worst possible way that this could have happened. Like, out of everything. Well, that was sort of melodramatic, wasn't it? He was still alive, right? For the time being, leastways. As for Gloria, she was presently...under duress. By a rather large guy with a chair. Or, she was before he covered his eyes and started wishing he was somewhere else.
He needed to run. No, he need to save Gloria. They were traveling together, watching each others backs. It was the only thing he could do, to watch her back. At least, in theory that was the idea. In theory, he should be able to walk right up behind the guy and do the Wolverine thing. In theory. In reality, if he tried that he was liable to get his head smashed in. Like, uh, like Gloria.
As depressing as that realization was, he had to try and stop him. Stacked against him as the odds were, he had to try. That is, try more then blindly flailing about like his current strategy. Micheal swallowed up what little courage he could muster and took a step toward the guy with the chair about the same time he dropped the Hulk Smash act. Just, think of it like a comic book. Wolverine first appeared in a battle with the Hulk. Wolverine probably won that, right? Just, do that.
But, the fates conspire against him. Or maybe for him, as he most certainly would have been beaten to death if he did attack the guy. Before he could do anything, several shots rang out, then more shots, then more shots. At least, that's how it sounded. That was enough for him. His head spun around, trying to pinpoint the location the shots were coming from, mainly so he could run the opposite way. But, Jesus, he couldn't just leave Gloria. Not now. Anyway, by the time he looked back to Gloria, the guy was gone. So, problem solved?
Gloria was hurt, she needed help. Someone was talking, but Gloria needed help now. Micheal moved toward her, rummaging through his bag as he moved, losing clothing and food as he scrambled to find the first aid kit he knew was somewhere inside. He knelt down next to Gloria dropping the claws as he tried to figure out where to start. "Jesus, Gloria, talk to me. What should I do?" He hesitated for a second before looking up at the guy giving orders. "Look, guy, can you not do that right now, I need some help here!"
He needed to run. No, he need to save Gloria. They were traveling together, watching each others backs. It was the only thing he could do, to watch her back. At least, in theory that was the idea. In theory, he should be able to walk right up behind the guy and do the Wolverine thing. In theory. In reality, if he tried that he was liable to get his head smashed in. Like, uh, like Gloria.
As depressing as that realization was, he had to try and stop him. Stacked against him as the odds were, he had to try. That is, try more then blindly flailing about like his current strategy. Micheal swallowed up what little courage he could muster and took a step toward the guy with the chair about the same time he dropped the Hulk Smash act. Just, think of it like a comic book. Wolverine first appeared in a battle with the Hulk. Wolverine probably won that, right? Just, do that.
But, the fates conspire against him. Or maybe for him, as he most certainly would have been beaten to death if he did attack the guy. Before he could do anything, several shots rang out, then more shots, then more shots. At least, that's how it sounded. That was enough for him. His head spun around, trying to pinpoint the location the shots were coming from, mainly so he could run the opposite way. But, Jesus, he couldn't just leave Gloria. Not now. Anyway, by the time he looked back to Gloria, the guy was gone. So, problem solved?
Gloria was hurt, she needed help. Someone was talking, but Gloria needed help now. Micheal moved toward her, rummaging through his bag as he moved, losing clothing and food as he scrambled to find the first aid kit he knew was somewhere inside. He knelt down next to Gloria dropping the claws as he tried to figure out where to start. "Jesus, Gloria, talk to me. What should I do?" He hesitated for a second before looking up at the guy giving orders. "Look, guy, can you not do that right now, I need some help here!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Sister Grimm.