G031, Phoebe Cho - START
Perhaps it was always going to end up this way.
Slim fingers curled around the stiff collar that adorned her neck. Images flashed through her mind. Every little bit of the programme she had ever seen. Of people who were apparently friends shooting each other and smothering each other. Running and crying and sweating and killing. Trees and meadows and run down buildings.
There was a pain in the small of her back, her knees were grazed, her palms were stinging with the cut glass that adorned the floor of the terminal she was sat in. Had she fallen over? Phoebe couldn't remember much that had happened since she had woken up, the sedative had made her drowsy and uncoordinated. Staggering into the airport terminal, sitting on the side of an overturned bench. The edges dug into the back of her thighs, and she could feel them against her bones.
She wasn't cut out for this.
A prospective math major was never going to get very far. Phoebe considered things as objectively as she could, pushing all emotion to one side. The facts were simple, she was too small, too skinny, too unfit. Her skills were in math, playing the violin, and dressing window displays in the vintage store she worked in. That was what she was good at, and she couldn't think of one way that any of them would be useful. Closing her eyes, the light from beyond the broken windows gleaming red through her eyelids. She couldn't stop the thoughts entering her head.
Somewhere in the world her family were watching. Or maybe not, maybe there was a time delay. Maybe they still didn't know where she was, just another missing person in a class of over a hundred. What was worse? Being in a missing plane or being stuck in this game. They had strangely similar statistics; most likely dead, but a slim chance of survival.
A sudden memory of her family sitting in an airport terminal flitted into her head. The summer before last, they were going to visit some incredibly obscure family in Korea, her third cousins or something like that. Phoebe suspected that the only reason they maintained such good contact with these relatives was to obtain free bed and board in their country, and the converse would also have been true if they had ever desired to visit the USA. Which they hadn't. In the airport terminal Phoebe was reading a book, Jake playing a game on his nintendo, Alex running around the departure lounge. Her father was shouting at Alex, her mother anxiously telling him not to shout so loudly while apologising to the people sitting near them. The waiting room was full of Koreans, and Phoebe edged away from her parents trying to distance herself from the commotion. Jake looked at her accusingly, with a little jealousy. He probably would have liked to join her, but being identical to his brother meant that he could never get away from the connection.
Don't cry. She couldn't let herself cry, if she started she wasn't sure she would be able to stop.
With her eyes closed and her fingertips on her collar, she breathed deeply and steadily. It had a calming effect and she felt peace enveloping her. Perhaps she should say something, say goodbye, but if she acknowledged her feelings she wasn't sure she would be able to go through with it.
It was better to get it over with. Was suicide still a sin if by committing suicide she was preventing someone else committing murder?
This was it.
She didn't have many regrets. Nothing major. Perhaps that she hadn't said goodbye to Alex or Jake the morning she had left. They had been asleep, she'd planned to ring home that evening to let her parents know she had arrived. And she would talk to them then, though it was difficult to talk to Jake on the phone.
Generally she had done okay at life. The only shame was it had ended so soon.
But this was the end of her path. This was where everything had led. All those other things, her place at college, her job, a family holiday later in the summer; they were just red herrings in the story of her life.
This was it.
Her finger curled around the collar and she tugged.
And nothing happened.
There was a pause. It was as if the whole world stopped and she didn't know how long for. Gradually she opened her eyes. Heaven was a smashed up airport terminal on an isle of forsaken children. It felt like a cliché, but she looked around with a new perspective. The colours seemed brighter, the glass was glinting and sparkling, the benches arranged almost artistically perhaps. Phoebe laughed. It was a laugh unlike anything she had ever laughed before. Of relief and irony and sadness.
Quickly the laugh morphed and twisted and the sadness took over, until she was crying gingerly into her glass encrusted hands. The pain from her injuries came back and swirled through her body, and her brain buzzed with energy, and she couldn't even pinpoint why she was crying. It was as though every emotion she had ever suppressed was suddenly surging to the surface of her mind and she felt everything. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried like this, she had always prided herself on controlling her emotions. On being there for everyone else when times got tough. Except there hadn't really ever been any tough times, other than when Jake was sick her life had been a seamless ride. Her rollercoaster belonged in the toddler section at a theme park. Her breath came in gulps and mucus dribbled down her chin. She didn't even try to hide it. Her rollercoaster had never been finished, and now the carts were flinging off into the air, destination unknown. Maybe some of the riders would survive but it wasn't looking likely.
As suddenly as her laughter had turned to tears, her tears turned to anger. In a sudden rush of confused emotions she looked up, and her right hand grasped around the police baton, her 'weapon', that was balanced carefully on the edge of the bench next to her. She threw it, with all her might, with all the energy in her puny muscles, against the wall she was facing.
The baton bounced off the wall, leaving a dent. Standing up, she walked carefully over to retrieve the baton, and inspected the damage she had caused.
Could she survive after all? Returning to her bench, she righted it and brushed it free of dust and broken glass before resuming her seat in roughly the same position. Her eyes fixed on the wall again. She had done that. Damage, caused by herself and her weapon and her power. Putting the baton down she looked at her hands, and remembered the glass. The adrenaline had temporarily numbed the pain. Rooting through her bag for the surprisingly well stocked first aid kit, she picked the glass out of her hands with tweezers, wiped a sterilising strip over the cuts and applied a bandage over the top. Anger had given way to calm. She felt the same serene that she had felt in the moments before she tried to blow her collar.
She had a second chance. And maybe she could survive after all.
Heaven is an Airport Terminal
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xylophonefairy†
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Heaven is an Airport Terminal
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((B047: Marcus Leung begin))
Maybe Marcus should blame his parents for all this. They'd all but forced him to go on the class trip, and look at where that had landed him. A large room rose up around him, surrounding him with seats and broken glass. It reminded him of the waiting area at SeaTac Airport. Marcus had never even seen the inside of an airport before, and now he was in another one, far from home and nowhere near Disneyland. They'd insisted that he go on the trip, to go and have the full graduation experience.
But there really was no point in blaming anybody. Maybe his parents had wanted to live a little through their son, to get that class trip that they'd never gotten the chance to have for themselves. It was, after all, Marcus' fault that they couldn't go on their senior class trip. He probably should've pushed back; the trip was too expensive and their savings could've gone to something much more practical. Instead, Marcus had let himself be selfish for just a bit, and now it was coming back to bite him.
Now was probably not the time to be feeling sorry for himself though. Not like that thought would ever stop him from doing just that. Best he could do was focus on the fact that there were about a hundred something of his classmates around here somewhere. Marcus knew that most of them wouldn't listen to Danya. The video of the two girls might have opened their eyes to the myriad possibilities, but they wouldn't stoop to that level. At least, not for a few days.
Marcus looked at the sword he'd been provided: his "assigned weapon". This was all a sick joke. It was no gun, but this was still a real weapon that could kill. The blade was sharp, and Marcus could think of a number of ways it could be used: cutting open somebody's throat, or cutting off an arm, or spilling their guts.
He shook his head in a vain attempt to push those images out of mind. He'd never use the sword for that. Hurting somebody to save himself? No way. Never in a million years. Even if he were staring down the barrel of a gun.
If it were Joe or Darren or Theo with a gun in his face though....
A bang rang throughout the waiting area. Not a gunshot. More like somebody had dropped a heavy box. The sound jolted Marcus out of his thoughts with a jump. He looked around the room, listening for another sound to pinpoint its origin.
The only sound in the air was a breeze drifting through the broken windows, glass shards scraping quietly against the floor. Maybe he'd just imagined it. He'd only just gotten here and he was already hallucinating sounds. That was a great start.
Movement caught Marcus's eye; a person, Marcus couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, was picking something up from the ground near the other end of the building. So at least he wasn't imagining things.
The question of what he should do wasn't really a question at all. Marcus just wanted to see a friendly face and stop thinking about the collar around his neck or the the sword in his hand. Gathering his belongings, Marcus moved slowly toward the unknown classmate, gingerly stepping over and around the broken shards of glass littering the ground.
It was a girl, he noticed as he got closer. After picking whatever it was up from the ground, she had seated herself on one of the nearby benches. He couldn't tell who she was; she was facing away from him. At least her hair color ruled out a couple of the girls, not that it was all that important. A familiar face was a friendly face.
While Marcus had a knack for being able to quietly sneak up on people, this was not the time to risk scaring one of his classmates. He stopped a good distance away from her, a couple rows of benches separating them, before calling out to her.
"Hey! Is everything okay?"
He shifted slightly to drop his duffel bag and the sword behind him. Last thing he needed was to make her think he was being anything but friendly.
Maybe Marcus should blame his parents for all this. They'd all but forced him to go on the class trip, and look at where that had landed him. A large room rose up around him, surrounding him with seats and broken glass. It reminded him of the waiting area at SeaTac Airport. Marcus had never even seen the inside of an airport before, and now he was in another one, far from home and nowhere near Disneyland. They'd insisted that he go on the trip, to go and have the full graduation experience.
But there really was no point in blaming anybody. Maybe his parents had wanted to live a little through their son, to get that class trip that they'd never gotten the chance to have for themselves. It was, after all, Marcus' fault that they couldn't go on their senior class trip. He probably should've pushed back; the trip was too expensive and their savings could've gone to something much more practical. Instead, Marcus had let himself be selfish for just a bit, and now it was coming back to bite him.
Now was probably not the time to be feeling sorry for himself though. Not like that thought would ever stop him from doing just that. Best he could do was focus on the fact that there were about a hundred something of his classmates around here somewhere. Marcus knew that most of them wouldn't listen to Danya. The video of the two girls might have opened their eyes to the myriad possibilities, but they wouldn't stoop to that level. At least, not for a few days.
Marcus looked at the sword he'd been provided: his "assigned weapon". This was all a sick joke. It was no gun, but this was still a real weapon that could kill. The blade was sharp, and Marcus could think of a number of ways it could be used: cutting open somebody's throat, or cutting off an arm, or spilling their guts.
He shook his head in a vain attempt to push those images out of mind. He'd never use the sword for that. Hurting somebody to save himself? No way. Never in a million years. Even if he were staring down the barrel of a gun.
If it were Joe or Darren or Theo with a gun in his face though....
A bang rang throughout the waiting area. Not a gunshot. More like somebody had dropped a heavy box. The sound jolted Marcus out of his thoughts with a jump. He looked around the room, listening for another sound to pinpoint its origin.
The only sound in the air was a breeze drifting through the broken windows, glass shards scraping quietly against the floor. Maybe he'd just imagined it. He'd only just gotten here and he was already hallucinating sounds. That was a great start.
Movement caught Marcus's eye; a person, Marcus couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, was picking something up from the ground near the other end of the building. So at least he wasn't imagining things.
The question of what he should do wasn't really a question at all. Marcus just wanted to see a friendly face and stop thinking about the collar around his neck or the the sword in his hand. Gathering his belongings, Marcus moved slowly toward the unknown classmate, gingerly stepping over and around the broken shards of glass littering the ground.
It was a girl, he noticed as he got closer. After picking whatever it was up from the ground, she had seated herself on one of the nearby benches. He couldn't tell who she was; she was facing away from him. At least her hair color ruled out a couple of the girls, not that it was all that important. A familiar face was a friendly face.
While Marcus had a knack for being able to quietly sneak up on people, this was not the time to risk scaring one of his classmates. He stopped a good distance away from her, a couple rows of benches separating them, before calling out to her.
"Hey! Is everything okay?"
He shifted slightly to drop his duffel bag and the sword behind him. Last thing he needed was to make her think he was being anything but friendly.
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A couple moments passed with no reaction from the girl. Maybe Marcus hadn't yelled loud enough. He never really was much a guy for raising his voice after all. Or maybe because the waiting room was so big and the windows were all gone and the girl might not even be listening and a whole bunch of other reasons. It wasn't like Marcus could really do anything to help her.
Not that he could ever test that if he just stood around doing nothing, and it wasn't like anybody had anything to lose if he tried.
Marcus walked up to the girl, taking a roundabout way that avoided most of the glass and looped around the sides of the room. When he got closer, and could see her in profile, he finally recognized the girl as Phoebe. And she seemed to have bandaged up her hand too.
"Whoa. Hey Phoebe. What happened to your hands?"
Not that he could ever test that if he just stood around doing nothing, and it wasn't like anybody had anything to lose if he tried.
Marcus walked up to the girl, taking a roundabout way that avoided most of the glass and looped around the sides of the room. When he got closer, and could see her in profile, he finally recognized the girl as Phoebe. And she seemed to have bandaged up her hand too.
"Whoa. Hey Phoebe. What happened to your hands?"
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xylophonefairy†
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((I'm really sorry, been away!))
Phoebe jumped as Marcus spoke. Her first move was to look for her baton, then she remembered that she was never going to be able to use it as a weapon against anyone. Her mind whirred faster than she could keep up with it, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she processed what he said.
"I don't know," she said, with a slight shrug. "I think I must have fallen over, I had to pick a load of glass out of it." Her eyes opened and she forced herself to look at Marcus for the first time since he had spoken to her. It seemed strange that this was probably the most significant injury she had ever had in her sheltered life, and yet it was so insignificant when there were probably people dead already, and she didn't even know who they were. I nearly died. A technicality, an upgrade, the only reason I'm not dead. Why didn't the collars come with a self destruct button?
Maybe it was best to focus on the minor things. The mundane things, like food and sleep and if there were any bits of glass still embedded in her hands. Her grandparents would not be impressed, they always wanted her to understand the bigger picture. One can only cover the sky if he covers his own eyes, but the sky is still there. Hiding from the issue wasn't going to do anything, other that maybe keep her sane.
Her mind moved so quickly, her next words followed barely a second after the first.
"How are you doing, anyway? Seen, um..." What she wanted to say was 'have you seen any dead people yet?' but couldn't figure out how to say it without sounding like a psychopath. And she didn't want to scare Marcus off, he was someone she knew, and reckoned was of reasonably sound mind. "Seen anything..." she still hadn't quite figured out the sentence. "Sorry, can't formulate sentences properly yet. I don't know what I want to say." The tears were starting to well up in her again. "I'm scared. Tell me something to make me less scared!"
Phoebe jumped as Marcus spoke. Her first move was to look for her baton, then she remembered that she was never going to be able to use it as a weapon against anyone. Her mind whirred faster than she could keep up with it, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she processed what he said.
"I don't know," she said, with a slight shrug. "I think I must have fallen over, I had to pick a load of glass out of it." Her eyes opened and she forced herself to look at Marcus for the first time since he had spoken to her. It seemed strange that this was probably the most significant injury she had ever had in her sheltered life, and yet it was so insignificant when there were probably people dead already, and she didn't even know who they were. I nearly died. A technicality, an upgrade, the only reason I'm not dead. Why didn't the collars come with a self destruct button?
Maybe it was best to focus on the minor things. The mundane things, like food and sleep and if there were any bits of glass still embedded in her hands. Her grandparents would not be impressed, they always wanted her to understand the bigger picture. One can only cover the sky if he covers his own eyes, but the sky is still there. Hiding from the issue wasn't going to do anything, other that maybe keep her sane.
Her mind moved so quickly, her next words followed barely a second after the first.
"How are you doing, anyway? Seen, um..." What she wanted to say was 'have you seen any dead people yet?' but couldn't figure out how to say it without sounding like a psychopath. And she didn't want to scare Marcus off, he was someone she knew, and reckoned was of reasonably sound mind. "Seen anything..." she still hadn't quite figured out the sentence. "Sorry, can't formulate sentences properly yet. I don't know what I want to say." The tears were starting to well up in her again. "I'm scared. Tell me something to make me less scared!"
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The sight of a girl in tears is one of those things that would cause most people to break down into blabbering idiots whose sole purpose is to placate the girl. Or at least, it did that to Marcus.
"Everything-" Marcus's words caught in his throat. How could he say something like "everything's going to be okay" and mean it? The words sounded hollow to him. Even if it were just to get Phoebe to stop crying, it didn't seem right to say it. "Umm...." Marcus racked his brain for something, anything, that he could say.
Her tears were rolling down here cheeks. Marcus felt useless. Even something as simple as making Phoebe feel better, he couldn't do. The best he could do was to lie, with a lie that she'd be able to see through instantly.
Marcus took a short breath to collect himself. "Everything's..." Marcus paused, praying that better words would come to mind, "everything's.... gonna be okay, Phoebe."
He could give her a hug, if he weren't still holding a big sword that might be the next closest thing to a gun right now. Marcus looked around, taking in broken glass and the open sky beyond what used to be windows.
"It might not be safe to stay here for too long. Let's go look for our friends. It'll be better once we find them."
((Marcus Leung continued in Meltdown))
"Everything-" Marcus's words caught in his throat. How could he say something like "everything's going to be okay" and mean it? The words sounded hollow to him. Even if it were just to get Phoebe to stop crying, it didn't seem right to say it. "Umm...." Marcus racked his brain for something, anything, that he could say.
Her tears were rolling down here cheeks. Marcus felt useless. Even something as simple as making Phoebe feel better, he couldn't do. The best he could do was to lie, with a lie that she'd be able to see through instantly.
Marcus took a short breath to collect himself. "Everything's..." Marcus paused, praying that better words would come to mind, "everything's.... gonna be okay, Phoebe."
He could give her a hug, if he weren't still holding a big sword that might be the next closest thing to a gun right now. Marcus looked around, taking in broken glass and the open sky beyond what used to be windows.
"It might not be safe to stay here for too long. Let's go look for our friends. It'll be better once we find them."
((Marcus Leung continued in Meltdown))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solomir. 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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xylophonefairy†
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Phoebe sniffed, feeling guilt for crying. It was awkward at the best of times, let alone on an island surrounded by cameras, but she couldn't stop herself. It took all her self control to maintain quiet tears, and to not descend into full blown sobbing. She had never been one of those people who could cry and still look attractive. For some reason she couldn't shake the need to always look presentable out of her mind. If ever there had been a situation where appearance didn't matter, this was it.
Marcus didn't seem to know what to say. Hesitantly, he told her it was going to be okay. She knew it wasn't true, but it was comforting anyway.
"Yeah," she said, sniffing again and wiping her eyes delicately with her hands. She could feel mascara coming away on her fingers, gritty, like when she occasionally forgot to take her make up off at night and woke up with panda eyes. She rubbed under her eyes a few more times to remove any remaining mascara that might have run. Why? This doesn't matter. Phoebe gestured towards the large, glassless windows overlooking what she assumed was the runway. The only indication was a few aeroplanes dotted around the airfield. They were rusted and broken and even if they did work she had no idea how to fly a plane. "We're kind of exposed here anyway."
She followed Marcus, and glimpsed his sword. Feeling a sudden cold rush of fear, it gave way to feeling protected. If he had wanted to kill her he could have done it easily when he first came up to her and she didn't notice him. Everything was going to be okay. "everything's gonna be okay, Phoebe."
((Phoebe Cho continued elsewhere))
Marcus didn't seem to know what to say. Hesitantly, he told her it was going to be okay. She knew it wasn't true, but it was comforting anyway.
"Yeah," she said, sniffing again and wiping her eyes delicately with her hands. She could feel mascara coming away on her fingers, gritty, like when she occasionally forgot to take her make up off at night and woke up with panda eyes. She rubbed under her eyes a few more times to remove any remaining mascara that might have run. Why? This doesn't matter. Phoebe gestured towards the large, glassless windows overlooking what she assumed was the runway. The only indication was a few aeroplanes dotted around the airfield. They were rusted and broken and even if they did work she had no idea how to fly a plane. "We're kind of exposed here anyway."
She followed Marcus, and glimpsed his sword. Feeling a sudden cold rush of fear, it gave way to feeling protected. If he had wanted to kill her he could have done it easily when he first came up to her and she didn't notice him. Everything was going to be okay. "everything's gonna be okay, Phoebe."
((Phoebe Cho continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler xylophonefairy. 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.