((Dorian Sanders continued from Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer))
Dorian gazed out over the vast, rather barren cliffs.
Well, I'm not going to find any fucking transmitters here, am I? Fuckin' hell in a handbasket, it's gone all Pete.
...
And now I'm speaking in Cockney rhyming slang. Bombay duck.
This transmitter search was going nowhere fast, but Dorian refused to acknowledge it. There was no way in hell he was going to give up the search for what could be the best way to stop the mayhem, even if no-one else understood him and no-one else believed he could.
Dorian stepped up to the edge of the cliffs and breathed in. And began muttering to himself.
"Out there's the bloody end to all our troubles, can't be a few days sailing away, and nobody can fucking find us. And we can't get out. And knowing Danya, he's got sharks or fishing boats with Others inside or invisible walls blocking our ways out. Bastard. Best way is to hijack the transmission, get everyone to give up the weapons, stop the killing until someone finds us.
Because someone will find us."
Dorian looked down at the foot of the cliff, then staggered back. There were two, maybe three different bodies down there. Dorian vomited a little in his mouth, and let it fall out on the grass.
These people...what the hell drives them to this? They're not born killers, why should they be doing it?
He grabbed his water bottle out of his bag and downed some of it.
Well, I'm not buying into that shit.
Guns For Show, Knives For A Pro
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Guns For Show, Knives For A Pro
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Yossarian†
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((Jordan Redfield continued from Weird Fishes))
((Slight GMing approved by Dark))
several hours earlier in a Jungle near the Hospital...
Jordan really hoped to find the hospital very soon. After 8 days on this hell-on-Earth (9 days actually... if Jordan wouldn't have been in a dark jungle, he would have seen that night already started turning into a day) he had definitely ENOUGH of the jungle. Finally after few hours of checking the course on the compass, he finally saw through the thick bushes his destination place: The Hospi..........
BEEP!
Fuck... So the Hospital IS a Danger Zone after all... not good...
Jordan quickly retreated back into the jungle, cursing his fate...
(...)
When Jordan was sure, that he is far away from Danger Zone, he sat on a stone, and tried to catch a breath. Then he reached for his pack, and got from it some water, and a little piece of bread (his food rations were already gone, and Julia's were running out), ate it and quickly drank the water, to cheat his stomach...
So what now? Of course we didn't even THOUGHT of some sort of backup place to meet... great, just great... some fine group we are... How we are supposed to find ourselves in this dark, shitty rain forest?
Well... apparently Deus Ex Machina was activated, because only seconds later, Mark appeared from the bushes...
"Jordan?"
"Mark! Damn, you scared me..."
"Hospital is a Danger Zone... what we're gonna do now?"
"Good question..." - Jordan took his map, and began to study it - "Let's see... the shortest open field place from here would be... Sea Cliffs probably. I think we should go there... But there is a small problem."
"Hannah, Quincy and Warren?"
"Bullseye... You have a map, right? Ok, then we will do it this way... as I can see, you have some brilliant luck with finding others, so try to find Hannah Quincy and Warren (And his gun especially...). I'll go check the Cliffs, if they're not a Danger Zone as well... If they are, then... Small Cottage would be are new meeting point, ok?"
"You sure, that's what Quincy..."
"I don't care, if Quincy have some cunning plan right now. We are in a middle of a fucking jungle, and our top priority should be regrouping somewhere, right?"
"Ok, as you wish" - He shrugged - "We will meet again at the Cliffs. Bye."
"Good luck..."
Jordan decided not to waste any more time, packed the rest of the food, and once again he began to wander through the jungle...
(...)
Present time, the Sea Cliffs...
After ANOTHER few hours, Jordan finally emerged from the jungle, right in time to... see the sunrise? Hah... you wish, Jordan....of course, the weather was still awful... I swear, this rain will kill me someday.... But enough talk about the weather... There was no time to lose, on watching the horizon... On the other hand... why not? After all, he found the right place, it wasn't the Danger Zone, he had some time before other would come, and there wasn't anyone around... No, erase that last one, there WAS someone here. It was... Dorian? Not Ibanescu... the other one. What was his last name? He couldn't remember that. At least his name hadn't appeared in any announcement, so Jordan assumed, he was not dangerous... An since there was no reason to be impolite...
"Hi there! You're Dorian. right? My name is Jordan, and don't worry, I'm not a player...."
Oh shit... I forgot about Julia... if he remember the announcements, things can go little complicated. Shit, you screwed up Jordan... Now, you must go for it...
"And it's certainly nice to find some friendly face here..."
((Slight GMing approved by Dark))
several hours earlier in a Jungle near the Hospital...
Jordan really hoped to find the hospital very soon. After 8 days on this hell-on-Earth (9 days actually... if Jordan wouldn't have been in a dark jungle, he would have seen that night already started turning into a day) he had definitely ENOUGH of the jungle. Finally after few hours of checking the course on the compass, he finally saw through the thick bushes his destination place: The Hospi..........
BEEP!
Fuck... So the Hospital IS a Danger Zone after all... not good...
Jordan quickly retreated back into the jungle, cursing his fate...
(...)
When Jordan was sure, that he is far away from Danger Zone, he sat on a stone, and tried to catch a breath. Then he reached for his pack, and got from it some water, and a little piece of bread (his food rations were already gone, and Julia's were running out), ate it and quickly drank the water, to cheat his stomach...
So what now? Of course we didn't even THOUGHT of some sort of backup place to meet... great, just great... some fine group we are... How we are supposed to find ourselves in this dark, shitty rain forest?
Well... apparently Deus Ex Machina was activated, because only seconds later, Mark appeared from the bushes...
"Jordan?"
"Mark! Damn, you scared me..."
"Hospital is a Danger Zone... what we're gonna do now?"
"Good question..." - Jordan took his map, and began to study it - "Let's see... the shortest open field place from here would be... Sea Cliffs probably. I think we should go there... But there is a small problem."
"Hannah, Quincy and Warren?"
"Bullseye... You have a map, right? Ok, then we will do it this way... as I can see, you have some brilliant luck with finding others, so try to find Hannah Quincy and Warren (And his gun especially...). I'll go check the Cliffs, if they're not a Danger Zone as well... If they are, then... Small Cottage would be are new meeting point, ok?"
"You sure, that's what Quincy..."
"I don't care, if Quincy have some cunning plan right now. We are in a middle of a fucking jungle, and our top priority should be regrouping somewhere, right?"
"Ok, as you wish" - He shrugged - "We will meet again at the Cliffs. Bye."
"Good luck..."
Jordan decided not to waste any more time, packed the rest of the food, and once again he began to wander through the jungle...
(...)
Present time, the Sea Cliffs...
After ANOTHER few hours, Jordan finally emerged from the jungle, right in time to... see the sunrise? Hah... you wish, Jordan....of course, the weather was still awful... I swear, this rain will kill me someday.... But enough talk about the weather... There was no time to lose, on watching the horizon... On the other hand... why not? After all, he found the right place, it wasn't the Danger Zone, he had some time before other would come, and there wasn't anyone around... No, erase that last one, there WAS someone here. It was... Dorian? Not Ibanescu... the other one. What was his last name? He couldn't remember that. At least his name hadn't appeared in any announcement, so Jordan assumed, he was not dangerous... An since there was no reason to be impolite...
"Hi there! You're Dorian. right? My name is Jordan, and don't worry, I'm not a player...."
Oh shit... I forgot about Julia... if he remember the announcements, things can go little complicated. Shit, you screwed up Jordan... Now, you must go for it...
"And it's certainly nice to find some friendly face here..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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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Pigeon Army†
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Dorian was sitting a fair bit away from the cliff edge, lost in his own thoughts, when the bejeezus was scared out of him by a student he didn't recognise.
Hi there! You're Dorian. right? My name is Jordan, and don't worry, I'm not a player....and it's certainly nice to find some friendly face here...
Dorian spun around, empty machine gun at his shoulder quickly as possible. It wasn't exactly the welcome the boy would've been expecting, but you go sneaking up on people round here, shit's gonna go down...
Dorian trained the gun on the boy for a second, then, satisfied he wasn't going to do anything shifty-like, he lowered it.
"I'm sorry," Dorian said half-heartedly. "You snuck up on me."
There was a moment's silence, and Dorian piped up again, "Who are you, Jordan, and how do you know who I am? Because I sure as hell don't know you, and while I'm not adverse to company, my previous experiences with company on this island have been fucking awful, so if you're going to stick around, you're going to have to be co-operative."
Hi there! You're Dorian. right? My name is Jordan, and don't worry, I'm not a player....and it's certainly nice to find some friendly face here...
Dorian spun around, empty machine gun at his shoulder quickly as possible. It wasn't exactly the welcome the boy would've been expecting, but you go sneaking up on people round here, shit's gonna go down...
Dorian trained the gun on the boy for a second, then, satisfied he wasn't going to do anything shifty-like, he lowered it.
"I'm sorry," Dorian said half-heartedly. "You snuck up on me."
There was a moment's silence, and Dorian piped up again, "Who are you, Jordan, and how do you know who I am? Because I sure as hell don't know you, and while I'm not adverse to company, my previous experiences with company on this island have been fucking awful, so if you're going to stick around, you're going to have to be co-operative."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. 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.
((Quincy Archer and Warren Pace continued from Weird Fishes))
"This is getting to be ri-goddamn-diculous!" Warren shouted as he trudged through the jungle. The group had no sooner set foot in the hospital than their collars went off like alarm clocks, and in their panic, the team scattered. Warren lost track of Hannah, Jordan, and Mark, but lucky for him, Quincy managed to keep an eye on him. Not that Quincy was actually concerned for Warren's safety, God no. The limey wasn't capable of that anymore. No, Quincy just wanted his gun. Well, he'd never get it! Nev-
Warren stopped in mid-step and clutched his head. What was he thinking? This was Quincy Archer, someone he used to hang out with all the time. When Warren wasn't afraid to be a nerd, he came up to the lonely British kid and offered to spend some time with him, like Quincy had apparently done with Blood Boy before he changed. Unlike Blood Boy, the two of them hit if off well, bonding over their love for Monty Python.
"What's this? Hey!" Quincy walked up to Warren, who slumped up against a tree, and snapped his fingers. "I know you're tired, but we've gotta-"
-----
"-roll a 6 or better to hit this bloke, right?" a much younger Quincy asked the Dungeon Master. He sat at a spacious table in a well-lit dining room with his back to the golden summer light streaming through the sliding glass door to the back porch. He looked less threatening at fifteen years; there were no bags under his eyes, he seemed less emaciated, and his smiles conveyed genuine joy from time to time. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes darted from the DM and her hand-painted folding screen to his character sheet of the fobbish swashbuckler, Ronsus von Katzenjammer. The sheet's portrait, which the DM was kind enough to draw, featured a grinning elf in a wide-brimmed, feathery hat. It was kind of a party tradition to anticipate and relish the pain inflicted on Quincy's character.
"Uh, Quincy, I don't think you should be leaning back like that," young Warren said. "You could break something." Four years ago, Warren was scruffier and less toned, and he heard jokes comparing him to a dopey but lovable sheepdog. His character was a similarly timid paladin, and while everyone told him that roleplaying someone who acted just like yourself defeated the purpose, he gave them the defense that it was different than the usual paladin stereotype, which got them off his back somewhat.
"Eh, it's alright," replied the DM, Cassidy Wakemore. "My folks have had those chairs for a while now. They're overdue for some new ones, if you ask me."
Cassidy, standing at a piddling 4'6", was generally thought of us as the weirdest member of the D&D group. She insisted on wearing a brown stocking cap at all times and rolling up only the left sleeve of her shirt, and occasionally seemed to forget about the rules of etiquette and personal space. Despite her general weirdness, though, she was one of the best DMs in the area, because she was enormously creative. She never railroaded the campaign once, despite early attempts to derail its initial path, because she was a master of improvisation. She more than made up for this by giving the PCs practically no room for error, taking pleasure in killing them off in a variety of creative ways, earning her the nickname "Casshole". To top if off, she not only drew her DM screen and all of the character portraits, but managed to sketch out a full painting of the group, and would have finished it had she not gotten sidetracked by TV Tropes.
"Well, that's nice," Warren said, "but I was actually concerned about Quincy getting-"
"Do I need a 6, Cass?" the third player, Bugle, interrupted. Bugle was the group's rules lawyer and the only person who still tried to test Cassidy instead of just going along for the ride. Quincy and Warren had come to look forward to the dance between him and Cassidy. Bugle would make an overpowered character by carefully balancing his statistics, lasting a few fights until Cassidy inevitably figured out something he missed and used his one weakness against him. The dance had played out twelve times now, while Warren and Quincy's characters had only died a handful of times, because they roleplayed well and worked together to clean up after Bugle.
"7, actually."
"Good enough. Alright, let's see." He rolled a pair of twnety-sided dice, one for each kukri he wielded, and got a 13 and a 17. "And let's see, keen kukris both get a chance for critical..." He rolled twice more and grinned, then rolled two four-sided dice. "Alright! That's 20 damage total. Did he bite it?"
Cassidy took a peek behind her screen and smiled. "Yep." The she grabbed another d20 and rolled it. "Too bad he prepared used Contingency to cast Disintegrate upon death." She peeked over her screen. "And it looks like it hit."
"Dammit."
She carefully gathered up a handful of normal, six-sided dice and rolled them on a clear space on the table. After adding up the results, she shook her head sadly. "And that's it for Robilard."
"Son of a bitch!" Bugle yelled.
"Looks like Ronsus and Sir Veiros get all your stuff. It should make a pretty penny at the bazaar. But really, Bugle, you're kind of slipping. This one didn't even last one fight."
Bugle groaned and glared at Cassidy, then Warren and Quincy. "Come on, you can't be okay with the way she keeps beating us, can you?"
Warren rolled his eyes. "Well that's what we get for making an all-melee party. Try for a cleric or something next time, will you? One paladin isn't going to keep us all healthy."
"And I for one enjoy the challenge that Cass puts into her games," Quincy added. "It's like-"
-----
"-a mirage, isn't it?" the older Warren asked Quincy. His pace had slowed to a walk, as he was too busy thinking about the past.
Quincy was having none of it, though. He snorted and looked back at the plodding jock in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" Quincy asked. "Neil vanishes for a day and suddenly you lost whatever spine you had when he was around. Some of us aren't completely helpless without his guidance, you know."
"Remember Bugle?" Warren asked Quincy.
"What?" Quincy thought for a bit. "The munchkin? Yeah, course I remember him. Annoying little nob. Why are we talking about him now?"
Warren remained silent. "Oh come on," Quincy groaned. "We're not friends anymore. You're the one who made that decision and you can't take it back just because of some deathbed repentance rubbish."
"I'm not going to hur-"
"Hold on, I think I see someone." Quincy stepped out from under the canopy and into the sea cliffs and saw Jordan with someone he thought he recognized.
"Oh, we actually found someone?" he asked himself, then turned to his new ally. "Jordan, do you know where everyone else is?"
-----
SOUND AND FURY
SOTF: Version 2 failed to answer any of my questions. It played out in much the same way as the first series did, except that the editing was smoother and that a greater proportion of students found it worthwhile to play the game for keeps this time around. As with the last time around, there are ridiculous stunts that belong firmly in the movies; one incident sticks out firmly in my mind, in which a shrill, psychotic harpy thing with two basketballs attached to her fragile rail of a torso backflipped over an enraged hockey player. Seeing this angered me so much that I had to shut off the video for a few hours to regain my composure. The fact that this character, whom I shall not name, became the programme's final villain only served to annoy me further, for it meant that she got far more screen time and kills than she deserved. I cheered loudly when she got her skull bashed in with a hammer, and then I had to stand up and clear my head because the series ended a few minutes later. Her killer was the only student left on the island and the programme's second winner.
A few readers have commented in my Version 1 review that the programme was originally broadcast on all networks simultaneously in real time, with each network tied to a different camera on the island. I didn't believe you at first, but later research shows that this was in fact true for both versions, which floored me. A terrorist network manages to take control of every single cable network in America? Has the world turned into a fucking Bond movie?
And more importantly, what the fuck is the American government doing about this? I can infer that both the students from Barry Coleson High School and the ones form the four Denton schools used in V2 were abducted shortly before the program began, sometime during the first half of June. I've learned to expect incompetence from government but this is on an entirely new level.
That's all I can write for today. I'll try and dig up some more information for next time. If any of you could point me in the right direction, that'd be swell.
Yours,
The Late Arthur Aldridge.
"This is getting to be ri-goddamn-diculous!" Warren shouted as he trudged through the jungle. The group had no sooner set foot in the hospital than their collars went off like alarm clocks, and in their panic, the team scattered. Warren lost track of Hannah, Jordan, and Mark, but lucky for him, Quincy managed to keep an eye on him. Not that Quincy was actually concerned for Warren's safety, God no. The limey wasn't capable of that anymore. No, Quincy just wanted his gun. Well, he'd never get it! Nev-
Warren stopped in mid-step and clutched his head. What was he thinking? This was Quincy Archer, someone he used to hang out with all the time. When Warren wasn't afraid to be a nerd, he came up to the lonely British kid and offered to spend some time with him, like Quincy had apparently done with Blood Boy before he changed. Unlike Blood Boy, the two of them hit if off well, bonding over their love for Monty Python.
"What's this? Hey!" Quincy walked up to Warren, who slumped up against a tree, and snapped his fingers. "I know you're tired, but we've gotta-"
-----
"-roll a 6 or better to hit this bloke, right?" a much younger Quincy asked the Dungeon Master. He sat at a spacious table in a well-lit dining room with his back to the golden summer light streaming through the sliding glass door to the back porch. He looked less threatening at fifteen years; there were no bags under his eyes, he seemed less emaciated, and his smiles conveyed genuine joy from time to time. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes darted from the DM and her hand-painted folding screen to his character sheet of the fobbish swashbuckler, Ronsus von Katzenjammer. The sheet's portrait, which the DM was kind enough to draw, featured a grinning elf in a wide-brimmed, feathery hat. It was kind of a party tradition to anticipate and relish the pain inflicted on Quincy's character.
"Uh, Quincy, I don't think you should be leaning back like that," young Warren said. "You could break something." Four years ago, Warren was scruffier and less toned, and he heard jokes comparing him to a dopey but lovable sheepdog. His character was a similarly timid paladin, and while everyone told him that roleplaying someone who acted just like yourself defeated the purpose, he gave them the defense that it was different than the usual paladin stereotype, which got them off his back somewhat.
"Eh, it's alright," replied the DM, Cassidy Wakemore. "My folks have had those chairs for a while now. They're overdue for some new ones, if you ask me."
Cassidy, standing at a piddling 4'6", was generally thought of us as the weirdest member of the D&D group. She insisted on wearing a brown stocking cap at all times and rolling up only the left sleeve of her shirt, and occasionally seemed to forget about the rules of etiquette and personal space. Despite her general weirdness, though, she was one of the best DMs in the area, because she was enormously creative. She never railroaded the campaign once, despite early attempts to derail its initial path, because she was a master of improvisation. She more than made up for this by giving the PCs practically no room for error, taking pleasure in killing them off in a variety of creative ways, earning her the nickname "Casshole". To top if off, she not only drew her DM screen and all of the character portraits, but managed to sketch out a full painting of the group, and would have finished it had she not gotten sidetracked by TV Tropes.
"Well, that's nice," Warren said, "but I was actually concerned about Quincy getting-"
"Do I need a 6, Cass?" the third player, Bugle, interrupted. Bugle was the group's rules lawyer and the only person who still tried to test Cassidy instead of just going along for the ride. Quincy and Warren had come to look forward to the dance between him and Cassidy. Bugle would make an overpowered character by carefully balancing his statistics, lasting a few fights until Cassidy inevitably figured out something he missed and used his one weakness against him. The dance had played out twelve times now, while Warren and Quincy's characters had only died a handful of times, because they roleplayed well and worked together to clean up after Bugle.
"7, actually."
"Good enough. Alright, let's see." He rolled a pair of twnety-sided dice, one for each kukri he wielded, and got a 13 and a 17. "And let's see, keen kukris both get a chance for critical..." He rolled twice more and grinned, then rolled two four-sided dice. "Alright! That's 20 damage total. Did he bite it?"
Cassidy took a peek behind her screen and smiled. "Yep." The she grabbed another d20 and rolled it. "Too bad he prepared used Contingency to cast Disintegrate upon death." She peeked over her screen. "And it looks like it hit."
"Dammit."
She carefully gathered up a handful of normal, six-sided dice and rolled them on a clear space on the table. After adding up the results, she shook her head sadly. "And that's it for Robilard."
"Son of a bitch!" Bugle yelled.
"Looks like Ronsus and Sir Veiros get all your stuff. It should make a pretty penny at the bazaar. But really, Bugle, you're kind of slipping. This one didn't even last one fight."
Bugle groaned and glared at Cassidy, then Warren and Quincy. "Come on, you can't be okay with the way she keeps beating us, can you?"
Warren rolled his eyes. "Well that's what we get for making an all-melee party. Try for a cleric or something next time, will you? One paladin isn't going to keep us all healthy."
"And I for one enjoy the challenge that Cass puts into her games," Quincy added. "It's like-"
-----
"-a mirage, isn't it?" the older Warren asked Quincy. His pace had slowed to a walk, as he was too busy thinking about the past.
Quincy was having none of it, though. He snorted and looked back at the plodding jock in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" Quincy asked. "Neil vanishes for a day and suddenly you lost whatever spine you had when he was around. Some of us aren't completely helpless without his guidance, you know."
"Remember Bugle?" Warren asked Quincy.
"What?" Quincy thought for a bit. "The munchkin? Yeah, course I remember him. Annoying little nob. Why are we talking about him now?"
Warren remained silent. "Oh come on," Quincy groaned. "We're not friends anymore. You're the one who made that decision and you can't take it back just because of some deathbed repentance rubbish."
"I'm not going to hur-"
"Hold on, I think I see someone." Quincy stepped out from under the canopy and into the sea cliffs and saw Jordan with someone he thought he recognized.
"Oh, we actually found someone?" he asked himself, then turned to his new ally. "Jordan, do you know where everyone else is?"
-----
SOUND AND FURY
SOTF: Version 2 failed to answer any of my questions. It played out in much the same way as the first series did, except that the editing was smoother and that a greater proportion of students found it worthwhile to play the game for keeps this time around. As with the last time around, there are ridiculous stunts that belong firmly in the movies; one incident sticks out firmly in my mind, in which a shrill, psychotic harpy thing with two basketballs attached to her fragile rail of a torso backflipped over an enraged hockey player. Seeing this angered me so much that I had to shut off the video for a few hours to regain my composure. The fact that this character, whom I shall not name, became the programme's final villain only served to annoy me further, for it meant that she got far more screen time and kills than she deserved. I cheered loudly when she got her skull bashed in with a hammer, and then I had to stand up and clear my head because the series ended a few minutes later. Her killer was the only student left on the island and the programme's second winner.
A few readers have commented in my Version 1 review that the programme was originally broadcast on all networks simultaneously in real time, with each network tied to a different camera on the island. I didn't believe you at first, but later research shows that this was in fact true for both versions, which floored me. A terrorist network manages to take control of every single cable network in America? Has the world turned into a fucking Bond movie?
And more importantly, what the fuck is the American government doing about this? I can infer that both the students from Barry Coleson High School and the ones form the four Denton schools used in V2 were abducted shortly before the program began, sometime during the first half of June. I've learned to expect incompetence from government but this is on an entirely new level.
That's all I can write for today. I'll try and dig up some more information for next time. If any of you could point me in the right direction, that'd be swell.
Yours,
The Late Arthur Aldridge.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
At first, Jordan didn't knew, if he was more happy or scared, when he said hi to the barrel of Dorian's submachine gun. On the one hand, he just found another guy with a firearm... On the other, would Dorian have been more trigger-happy, Jordan would have already been a swiss cheese...
- "I'm sorry" - he said - "You snuck up on me."
Ugh... I bet, that I've made quite a rumble, while emerging from the jungle. And I wasn't sneaking in any way. That means, that either I have learned some superb sneaking skills, or he's almost deaf. Probably the latter one...
- "Who are you, Jordan, and how do you know who I am? Because I sure as hell don't know you, and while I'm not adverse to company, my previous experiences with company on this island have been fucking awful, so if you're going to stick around, you're going to have to be co-operative."
It was obvious right from the start, that Dorian was really pissed off... However Jordan hadn't any single clue what was the matter, so he couldn't even think of some clever way of changing topic. Besides... who would have start some smart-ass trash talk, with a gun pointed to his chest? Only some big bravado... or even bigger idiot. No... Once again, he had to act like a friend. It wasn't hard for him. After all, social skills was his biggest advantage...
- "Hey! Take it easy! Maybe it doesn't look like it, but I know, what was going around in school. Some of my friends are (or was...) fans of Drama. So I usually know from them, who played who. You know..."
Jordan stopped for a moment, to avoid overflowing Dorian with informations... after all confusing the guy with the gun, wouldn't have been very smart.
- "About me. As i told you before, I'm Jordan. Jordan Redfield. Surfer. That stuff. Known as a - Jordan sighed - local 'girls best friend'. Nothing more to say, really...
Apart from being a SADD member. You know SADD? That group that is trying to get away from this island. So as you can see, I mean totally no harm..."
TAKE HIS GUN!!!
"...to you, or anyone else. Well, the camera whacking plan was a failure, but we won't give up, that's for sure. Right now, we had to split up in the Jungle when Hospital appeared to be Danger Zone. We decided to regroup here. I'm first, but soon others will follow..."
Yup... Deus Ex Machina was still running, because suddenly Quincy and Warren appeared out of nowhere...
- "Jordan, do you know where everyone else is?"
- "Oh, that was fast... I guess you met Mark in the jungle. We miraculously managed to find ourselves, and decided to regroup here. I came here to check, if it isn't Danger Zone, and he went to inform you and Hannah about the plan... Everything is going smoothly, I presume?"
- "I'm sorry" - he said - "You snuck up on me."
Ugh... I bet, that I've made quite a rumble, while emerging from the jungle. And I wasn't sneaking in any way. That means, that either I have learned some superb sneaking skills, or he's almost deaf. Probably the latter one...
- "Who are you, Jordan, and how do you know who I am? Because I sure as hell don't know you, and while I'm not adverse to company, my previous experiences with company on this island have been fucking awful, so if you're going to stick around, you're going to have to be co-operative."
It was obvious right from the start, that Dorian was really pissed off... However Jordan hadn't any single clue what was the matter, so he couldn't even think of some clever way of changing topic. Besides... who would have start some smart-ass trash talk, with a gun pointed to his chest? Only some big bravado... or even bigger idiot. No... Once again, he had to act like a friend. It wasn't hard for him. After all, social skills was his biggest advantage...
- "Hey! Take it easy! Maybe it doesn't look like it, but I know, what was going around in school. Some of my friends are (or was...) fans of Drama. So I usually know from them, who played who. You know..."
Jordan stopped for a moment, to avoid overflowing Dorian with informations... after all confusing the guy with the gun, wouldn't have been very smart.
- "About me. As i told you before, I'm Jordan. Jordan Redfield. Surfer. That stuff. Known as a - Jordan sighed - local 'girls best friend'. Nothing more to say, really...
Apart from being a SADD member. You know SADD? That group that is trying to get away from this island. So as you can see, I mean totally no harm..."
TAKE HIS GUN!!!
"...to you, or anyone else. Well, the camera whacking plan was a failure, but we won't give up, that's for sure. Right now, we had to split up in the Jungle when Hospital appeared to be Danger Zone. We decided to regroup here. I'm first, but soon others will follow..."
Yup... Deus Ex Machina was still running, because suddenly Quincy and Warren appeared out of nowhere...
- "Jordan, do you know where everyone else is?"
- "Oh, that was fast... I guess you met Mark in the jungle. We miraculously managed to find ourselves, and decided to regroup here. I came here to check, if it isn't Danger Zone, and he went to inform you and Hannah about the plan... Everything is going smoothly, I presume?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
{{continued from Wierd Fishes}}
Hannah trudged silently through the jungle, her feet catching on a stray root every now and then, but still managing to stay upright and keep the stumbling to a minimum.
A while ago, she had lost track of the other SADD members, starting to panic a bit as the realization hit her. No...not again... She kept it down, though, and marched on with great determination. They all had the same meeting point, all she had to do was get there, and she'd find the others (and probably get a snarky comment from Quincy about taking so long.)
Finally, she broke through the brush, finding a building right in front of her. Well, it...kind of LOOKS like a hospital. There were even three open crates just outside, with Neil, Matt, and Dominica's names and numbers printed on the side. "I think this is the place." She muttered to herself. "But where are the oth-"
Beep.
She froze in her tracks.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep beep.
No. No, this wasn't right. Danya hadn't declared this area a dangerzone yet! But then she remembered Quincy's remarked about the system possibly being down, and that dangerzones could've changed around without anyone being notified.
Looks like he really WAS right about all th-
beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep
WHAT WAS SHE DOING JUST STANDING AROUND HERE FOR!? Hannah's collar suddenly felt like the Reaper himself had his hands around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter with each beep.
She pulled a 180 and ran as fast as she could possibly run, not even stopping after the beeping did.
----------
Hannah opened her eyes, finding the plain white ceiling of her bedroom to greet her. Her mind still in that odd state between dreaming and reality, she just stared up at it for a minute or two. Then she remembered: the school trip is today. She hadn't heard the alarm go off, but that was okay; her mom was going to be up early today, and since Hannah's alarm had failed to go off a few times in the last couple of weeks, she told her to watch the clock and wake her up to make sure that she didn't miss the bus. She looked over towards the window, finding it odd that it was already this light out so early in the mor-
Her eyes quickly went to the clock.
"...uh oh."
Hannah's mom was downstairs, finding various ways to pass the time without making to much noise so as to not wake up Hannah, when suddenly she rushed down from upstairs.
"Mom, why did you wake me up!?" She said, panicked.
"What are you talking about?" Her mom said, wearing a confused expression. "You told me to wake you up at seven."
"I said to wake me up at SIX!" She said, prompting her mom to look at the digital clock on top of the TV. It read 6:49.
"Uh oh." She said, mimicking her daughter's reaction almost exactly.
Hannah rushed back up the stairs. Fortunately, she had packed everything last night. I don't have a lot of time. She thought as she barged into the upstairs bathroom. Okay, time for the fastest shower you've ever taken in your life.
----------
Hannah suddenly snapped back to reality, only to find herself still trudging through the wilderness. She found it odd that of all the memories of back home she would conjure up, it would be that one. After she had gotten ready in record time, Mom had driven like a bat out of hell (fortunately, they managed not to get pulled over by the cops.) Luckily for her, they were able to get there just minutes before the buses left for the trip.
Lucky. Right. She sure as hell didn't feel so lucky now.
Finally, she heard some voices off in the distance. Familiar voices. Finally... She thought as she hurried her pace, finally breaking through...and finding the barrel of a machine gun pointed right at her.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat from the sudden threat, of course. Though she also noticed the other members of SADD ahead of her. "Uh...I'm back." She said. "What did I miss?"
Hannah trudged silently through the jungle, her feet catching on a stray root every now and then, but still managing to stay upright and keep the stumbling to a minimum.
A while ago, she had lost track of the other SADD members, starting to panic a bit as the realization hit her. No...not again... She kept it down, though, and marched on with great determination. They all had the same meeting point, all she had to do was get there, and she'd find the others (and probably get a snarky comment from Quincy about taking so long.)
Finally, she broke through the brush, finding a building right in front of her. Well, it...kind of LOOKS like a hospital. There were even three open crates just outside, with Neil, Matt, and Dominica's names and numbers printed on the side. "I think this is the place." She muttered to herself. "But where are the oth-"
Beep.
She froze in her tracks.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep beep.
No. No, this wasn't right. Danya hadn't declared this area a dangerzone yet! But then she remembered Quincy's remarked about the system possibly being down, and that dangerzones could've changed around without anyone being notified.
Looks like he really WAS right about all th-
beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep
WHAT WAS SHE DOING JUST STANDING AROUND HERE FOR!? Hannah's collar suddenly felt like the Reaper himself had his hands around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter with each beep.
She pulled a 180 and ran as fast as she could possibly run, not even stopping after the beeping did.
----------
Hannah opened her eyes, finding the plain white ceiling of her bedroom to greet her. Her mind still in that odd state between dreaming and reality, she just stared up at it for a minute or two. Then she remembered: the school trip is today. She hadn't heard the alarm go off, but that was okay; her mom was going to be up early today, and since Hannah's alarm had failed to go off a few times in the last couple of weeks, she told her to watch the clock and wake her up to make sure that she didn't miss the bus. She looked over towards the window, finding it odd that it was already this light out so early in the mor-
Her eyes quickly went to the clock.
"...uh oh."
Hannah's mom was downstairs, finding various ways to pass the time without making to much noise so as to not wake up Hannah, when suddenly she rushed down from upstairs.
"Mom, why did you wake me up!?" She said, panicked.
"What are you talking about?" Her mom said, wearing a confused expression. "You told me to wake you up at seven."
"I said to wake me up at SIX!" She said, prompting her mom to look at the digital clock on top of the TV. It read 6:49.
"Uh oh." She said, mimicking her daughter's reaction almost exactly.
Hannah rushed back up the stairs. Fortunately, she had packed everything last night. I don't have a lot of time. She thought as she barged into the upstairs bathroom. Okay, time for the fastest shower you've ever taken in your life.
----------
Hannah suddenly snapped back to reality, only to find herself still trudging through the wilderness. She found it odd that of all the memories of back home she would conjure up, it would be that one. After she had gotten ready in record time, Mom had driven like a bat out of hell (fortunately, they managed not to get pulled over by the cops.) Luckily for her, they were able to get there just minutes before the buses left for the trip.
Lucky. Right. She sure as hell didn't feel so lucky now.
Finally, she heard some voices off in the distance. Familiar voices. Finally... She thought as she hurried her pace, finally breaking through...and finding the barrel of a machine gun pointed right at her.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat from the sudden threat, of course. Though she also noticed the other members of SADD ahead of her. "Uh...I'm back." She said. "What did I miss?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
Warren was just about to answer Hannah when that sinister pedophile voice rang out across the island. "GOOD MORNING, CHILDREN!" it boomed.
"No!" Warren gasped, turning back toward the center of the island with dread. Quincy followed his gaze and listened calmly to the announcements. They ended with the mention of Neil Sinclair's name at the end of the dead list, causing Warren to collapse onto his knees, looking down at the ground in shock.
A rather unfortunate move on his part, since the next thing to go through his mind was the splitting headache he received as a result of Quincy booting him in the temple. As the blonde clutched his head in pain, the other boy reached for the revolver sticking out of his pants pocket and snatched it right out of there, kicking him once again in the stomach for good measure.
(giving you guys time to react to this
)
"No!" Warren gasped, turning back toward the center of the island with dread. Quincy followed his gaze and listened calmly to the announcements. They ended with the mention of Neil Sinclair's name at the end of the dead list, causing Warren to collapse onto his knees, looking down at the ground in shock.
A rather unfortunate move on his part, since the next thing to go through his mind was the splitting headache he received as a result of Quincy booting him in the temple. As the blonde clutched his head in pain, the other boy reached for the revolver sticking out of his pants pocket and snatched it right out of there, kicking him once again in the stomach for good measure.
(giving you guys time to react to this
)This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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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Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
Everything seemed to be fine... Quincy and Warren stepped out from a jungle, and Hannah was right behind them. Now just wait for Mark, and do some planning... Even his worst enemy, the rain, was finally ridden away by some less stormy clouds, and... even the sun! With that amount of luck, maybe they will finally find
"the newly martyred king of obnoxiousness, Mr. Neil Sinclair!"
Fuck...
Jordan have never met Neil on the island, and probably that's why his death wasn't so shocking for him. But Neil Sinclair was a symbol of hope for many students on this island after all, and Jordan feared, that some of them would be really crushed with this information... Especially Hannah, who doesn't seemed to him, like a very strong-willed person.
However, it was not Hannah, who started to despair... it was Warren. Odd look, especially for a Football player, who should be the toughest one of this party. Quincy on the other hand...
Wait... Is he going to...?
In one second, the puzzle was solved. Quincy almost had Warren's Colt in his grasp. The whole world froze for a while.
GOD DAMN IT! He had the same plan as me! All the time!
And the same time was running out already... Jordan hadn't even a second to rethink his decision. He couldn't let Quincy to run away with the gun. The same moment, Quincy took the Colt from Warren's pocket, Jordan took out his hunting knife, and threw his pack to the ground. He needed to go full speed to make it in time, and he couldn't let his own daypack (with heavy Scimitar in it) to slow him down. He made a run toward Quincy. Luckily for him, the red-haired boy decided to lose another few seconds and kicked Warren again. Jordan decided to take this opportunity, and he used all his strength to increase his pace even. Adrenaline pumped again into his body, just like in fight with Julia...
"OH NO, YOU WON'T, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"
It will be a matter of seconds... if he'll made it, everything will be fine. If not... well then Jordan Redfield will probably be no more...
Heaven or Hell
((Huh... It turns out, that the topic title actually fits here...))
"the newly martyred king of obnoxiousness, Mr. Neil Sinclair!"
Fuck...
Jordan have never met Neil on the island, and probably that's why his death wasn't so shocking for him. But Neil Sinclair was a symbol of hope for many students on this island after all, and Jordan feared, that some of them would be really crushed with this information... Especially Hannah, who doesn't seemed to him, like a very strong-willed person.
However, it was not Hannah, who started to despair... it was Warren. Odd look, especially for a Football player, who should be the toughest one of this party. Quincy on the other hand...
Wait... Is he going to...?
In one second, the puzzle was solved. Quincy almost had Warren's Colt in his grasp. The whole world froze for a while.
GOD DAMN IT! He had the same plan as me! All the time!
And the same time was running out already... Jordan hadn't even a second to rethink his decision. He couldn't let Quincy to run away with the gun. The same moment, Quincy took the Colt from Warren's pocket, Jordan took out his hunting knife, and threw his pack to the ground. He needed to go full speed to make it in time, and he couldn't let his own daypack (with heavy Scimitar in it) to slow him down. He made a run toward Quincy. Luckily for him, the red-haired boy decided to lose another few seconds and kicked Warren again. Jordan decided to take this opportunity, and he used all his strength to increase his pace even. Adrenaline pumped again into his body, just like in fight with Julia...
"OH NO, YOU WON'T, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"
It will be a matter of seconds... if he'll made it, everything will be fine. If not... well then Jordan Redfield will probably be no more...
Heaven or Hell
((Huh... It turns out, that the topic title actually fits here...))
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
"Good morning, children!"
Even with a gun pointed right at her, Hannah couldn't help but turn and look in the direction. That familiar, morbidly cheerful voice. "No...no wait." She uttered, a look of disbelief on her face.
"I'm so sorry to have left you alone for the last couple of days, but it just fills my heart to know that you all miss me so much!"
It couldn't be. They'd taken too long, and Danya and the terrorists had finally gotten the system back up. Their window of opportunity was gone. That's what it seemed like to her, anyway
"...Your less fortunate classmates include Nick Jones, Cara Scholte, Ryan Gilbert, Afra Jacinth, Eicca Hietala, Evan Gage, Jim Middleton, Kathleen Martin, Shawn Waits, Raven Lawrence, Petra Andrews, Branca Braunstein..."
The quick listing of the dead part took Hannah by surprise. It seemed odd that Danya wasn't describing the circumstances of the deaths like he always did, and ratting out the killer to the entire island. He always seem to get some kind of sick kick out of that.
"...James Migato, Clive Maxwell, Anton Wykowsku, Dennis McDonald, Briana North, Edgar Hoskins, Dane Zygmunt, Leo Curtis, Evan Angler, Abel Williams, Vera Lang, Joseph Cande, James Martinek, Heath Trennoby, Lauren Howard, and Anaesthesia Grout!"
Her mind grasping for something positive, it arrived at a satisfactory conclusion: The cameras still weren't working. If the cameras weren't working, they wouldn't be able to see how they died, nor who killed them. Yeah, that had to be it! There was still a chance!
Unfortunately for Hannah, any optimism she had managed to muster in those brief moments were shattered to pieces by what came next.
"Oh, and it gets even better! Joining the recently deceased are Lucy O'Donnell, Dean Portman, Alex Miller, Sean O'Cann, Maxie Dasai, Izzy Cheung, Dorian Ibanescu..."
Wait for it.
"...and three very special students! Your class vice-president Ianto Murphy, your class president Andrea Vanlandingham..."
Wait for it.
"..and the newly martyred king of obnoxiousness..."
Here it comes.
"Mr."
"Neil Sinclair!"
Bam.
Hannah felt as if she had been hit by a runaway truck. She stared blankly in the direction Danya's voice was coming from, as if her brain had trouble processing what she just heard, or simply refused to.
Then it hit her. Despair. Heavy, soul-crushing despair.
To Hannah, Neil wasn't just a leader. A leader could be replaced if the need arose. No, to Hannah, Neil was a figurehead. A symbol of hope for people who wanted to get off the island without it costing their souls. She wasn't strong enough to kill, and wasn't strong enough to survive. Sooner or later, she was bound to become a notch on some killer's belt. But Neil had changed that. He had shown her a third option, an option that otherwise seemed unnattainable, but with him at the lead seemed possible. Everything she did since the shootout at the barracks, she did so that Neil could lead them off the island.
And now he was dead. Just another victim of the game. And with his death, Hannah's resolve was broken.
"It's over. It's all over." She uttered quietly
Hannah continued to stare out as Danya wrapped up the announcements, though everything that came after the news about Neil was incomprehensible. Soon, though, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to look just as Quincy dropped Warren, making a grab for his gun. She knew she couldn't trust him. They were all just expendable to him. She, however, didn't expect his betrayal to be THIS direct.
As Jordan rushed Quincy, intent on stopping him from making the remnants of SADD his first victims, she noticed the handle of a blade sticking out of the daypack he left on the ground. As she looked at it, she could feel anger boiling inside her, getting more and more intense, so much so that she could barely contain it. How dare he? How DARE HE!?
Reaching for the handle and pulling the scimitar out of the pack, she sprinted towards Quincy, taking a slash at his face if she managed to get close enough. She couldn't control herself anymore. She had to direct this anger at someone, and what better person than Quincy. She never liked him, and now he was trying to kill them all.
He had to die.
Even with a gun pointed right at her, Hannah couldn't help but turn and look in the direction. That familiar, morbidly cheerful voice. "No...no wait." She uttered, a look of disbelief on her face.
"I'm so sorry to have left you alone for the last couple of days, but it just fills my heart to know that you all miss me so much!"
It couldn't be. They'd taken too long, and Danya and the terrorists had finally gotten the system back up. Their window of opportunity was gone. That's what it seemed like to her, anyway
"...Your less fortunate classmates include Nick Jones, Cara Scholte, Ryan Gilbert, Afra Jacinth, Eicca Hietala, Evan Gage, Jim Middleton, Kathleen Martin, Shawn Waits, Raven Lawrence, Petra Andrews, Branca Braunstein..."
The quick listing of the dead part took Hannah by surprise. It seemed odd that Danya wasn't describing the circumstances of the deaths like he always did, and ratting out the killer to the entire island. He always seem to get some kind of sick kick out of that.
"...James Migato, Clive Maxwell, Anton Wykowsku, Dennis McDonald, Briana North, Edgar Hoskins, Dane Zygmunt, Leo Curtis, Evan Angler, Abel Williams, Vera Lang, Joseph Cande, James Martinek, Heath Trennoby, Lauren Howard, and Anaesthesia Grout!"
Her mind grasping for something positive, it arrived at a satisfactory conclusion: The cameras still weren't working. If the cameras weren't working, they wouldn't be able to see how they died, nor who killed them. Yeah, that had to be it! There was still a chance!
Unfortunately for Hannah, any optimism she had managed to muster in those brief moments were shattered to pieces by what came next.
"Oh, and it gets even better! Joining the recently deceased are Lucy O'Donnell, Dean Portman, Alex Miller, Sean O'Cann, Maxie Dasai, Izzy Cheung, Dorian Ibanescu..."
Wait for it.
"...and three very special students! Your class vice-president Ianto Murphy, your class president Andrea Vanlandingham..."
Wait for it.
"..and the newly martyred king of obnoxiousness..."
Here it comes.
"Mr."
"Neil Sinclair!"
Bam.
Hannah felt as if she had been hit by a runaway truck. She stared blankly in the direction Danya's voice was coming from, as if her brain had trouble processing what she just heard, or simply refused to.
Then it hit her. Despair. Heavy, soul-crushing despair.
To Hannah, Neil wasn't just a leader. A leader could be replaced if the need arose. No, to Hannah, Neil was a figurehead. A symbol of hope for people who wanted to get off the island without it costing their souls. She wasn't strong enough to kill, and wasn't strong enough to survive. Sooner or later, she was bound to become a notch on some killer's belt. But Neil had changed that. He had shown her a third option, an option that otherwise seemed unnattainable, but with him at the lead seemed possible. Everything she did since the shootout at the barracks, she did so that Neil could lead them off the island.
And now he was dead. Just another victim of the game. And with his death, Hannah's resolve was broken.
"It's over. It's all over." She uttered quietly
Hannah continued to stare out as Danya wrapped up the announcements, though everything that came after the news about Neil was incomprehensible. Soon, though, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to look just as Quincy dropped Warren, making a grab for his gun. She knew she couldn't trust him. They were all just expendable to him. She, however, didn't expect his betrayal to be THIS direct.
As Jordan rushed Quincy, intent on stopping him from making the remnants of SADD his first victims, she noticed the handle of a blade sticking out of the daypack he left on the ground. As she looked at it, she could feel anger boiling inside her, getting more and more intense, so much so that she could barely contain it. How dare he? How DARE HE!?
Reaching for the handle and pulling the scimitar out of the pack, she sprinted towards Quincy, taking a slash at his face if she managed to get close enough. She couldn't control herself anymore. She had to direct this anger at someone, and what better person than Quincy. She never liked him, and now he was trying to kill them all.
He had to die.
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Darkling Perhaps†
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 8:08 am
((Mark continued from Weird Fishes))
The bump on his forehead was still glaring, the pain like a siren refusing to quit screaming. It was like his head was on fire, it hurt too badly. Mark didn't even have a clue what he looked like right now, or how long he was out. The goddamn rain hid the time probably too well.
This jungle is a bitch. Mark was looking for Warren, hoping he could find him alone from the hospital fiasco, and he though he could hear someone nearby. He ran toward the noise. It could have been his one chance to get the gun, but he heard a weird twang noise. Whatever hit him did it quick, and after some period of hazy blackness he woke up on the ground. Anyone could have come by and made me their next victim! Anyone! He staggered up and to where he thought the cliffs were, his head still too fuzzy.
The announcements blazed as he got closer. His headache flared up in the noise, like a bright flash in his head. He listened as well as he could, and when that moron Danya finally said Neil's name Mark just had to laugh. The group he was in was already dead! He couldn't stop chuckling even as he burst through the foliage to watch the fight unfolding. Hell, at least laughing made him forget about the pain.
"What the hell?"
The bump on his forehead was still glaring, the pain like a siren refusing to quit screaming. It was like his head was on fire, it hurt too badly. Mark didn't even have a clue what he looked like right now, or how long he was out. The goddamn rain hid the time probably too well.
This jungle is a bitch. Mark was looking for Warren, hoping he could find him alone from the hospital fiasco, and he though he could hear someone nearby. He ran toward the noise. It could have been his one chance to get the gun, but he heard a weird twang noise. Whatever hit him did it quick, and after some period of hazy blackness he woke up on the ground. Anyone could have come by and made me their next victim! Anyone! He staggered up and to where he thought the cliffs were, his head still too fuzzy.
The announcements blazed as he got closer. His headache flared up in the noise, like a bright flash in his head. He listened as well as he could, and when that moron Danya finally said Neil's name Mark just had to laugh. The group he was in was already dead! He couldn't stop chuckling even as he burst through the foliage to watch the fight unfolding. Hell, at least laughing made him forget about the pain.
"What the hell?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Darkling Perhaps. 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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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
If there was one thing the island had conditioned Dorian against, it was large numbers of people. While SADD was off engaging in foolhardy, death-causing camera-smashing, every group he had been around, be it the Damned Trio in the marsh or Steve, Vikki and Stephanie in the Field, had ended up the target of some violent psycho or somesuch.
So when Warren, Quincy and Hannah all diverged on the same spot within minutes of Jordan's arrival, Dorian became very suspicious, very quickly.
Nobody noticed as Dorian flipped open his daypack, the handle of the butcher's knife within easy grasp. I'm not taking any more fucking chances. Still training the barrel of the empty gun on the ever-growing group, he shuffled back slightly. And then, Danya's mocking, pervasive voice crackled over the loudspeakers. Dorian boiled with rage as the names spilled out.
Ryan. Eicca. Kathleen. Shawn. Raven. Edgar. Leo. Heath. Maxie. Izzy. The other Dorian. Ianto. Andrea. Neil.
All these people he'd known, either at school or on the island. All of these people he'd liked or loathed, and they were all dead.
However, the one that resounded the most with Dorian was Neil. Dorian had always thought Neil's idea was pretty, well, stupid. Neil would never find every single camera, and Danya knew this - he just killed those people as warnings to Neil.
Dorian, however - Dorian knew his idea, if it came into fruition, could work, and he knew he needed a group to make it happen. However, if Neil Sinclair, the boy who'd organised the most cohesive and, hell, hope-inspiring group in SotF history, could be killed in the line of duty - well, it's not looking too shiny for me, is it?
Dorian's introspection wasn't getting in the way of his senses, though, as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Quincy's attempted treachery. Without waiting a beat, Dorian dropped the empty gun, grabbed his butcher's knife, and went for Quincy's throat.
And both Jordan and Hannah did the same.
There was no way Quincy was getting out of this in any threatening capacity, Dorian knew it. However, this didn't stop a thought crossing Dorian's mind as he lunged -
Not again.
So when Warren, Quincy and Hannah all diverged on the same spot within minutes of Jordan's arrival, Dorian became very suspicious, very quickly.
Nobody noticed as Dorian flipped open his daypack, the handle of the butcher's knife within easy grasp. I'm not taking any more fucking chances. Still training the barrel of the empty gun on the ever-growing group, he shuffled back slightly. And then, Danya's mocking, pervasive voice crackled over the loudspeakers. Dorian boiled with rage as the names spilled out.
Ryan. Eicca. Kathleen. Shawn. Raven. Edgar. Leo. Heath. Maxie. Izzy. The other Dorian. Ianto. Andrea. Neil.
All these people he'd known, either at school or on the island. All of these people he'd liked or loathed, and they were all dead.
However, the one that resounded the most with Dorian was Neil. Dorian had always thought Neil's idea was pretty, well, stupid. Neil would never find every single camera, and Danya knew this - he just killed those people as warnings to Neil.
Dorian, however - Dorian knew his idea, if it came into fruition, could work, and he knew he needed a group to make it happen. However, if Neil Sinclair, the boy who'd organised the most cohesive and, hell, hope-inspiring group in SotF history, could be killed in the line of duty - well, it's not looking too shiny for me, is it?
Dorian's introspection wasn't getting in the way of his senses, though, as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Quincy's attempted treachery. Without waiting a beat, Dorian dropped the empty gun, grabbed his butcher's knife, and went for Quincy's throat.
And both Jordan and Hannah did the same.
There was no way Quincy was getting out of this in any threatening capacity, Dorian knew it. However, this didn't stop a thought crossing Dorian's mind as he lunged -
Not again.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. 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.
It took three days to accomplish, but Quincy finally had a weapon he could call his own. And what a weapon it was! The Colt Python had to be one of the sexiest guns Quincy had ever seen, with a finished wood grip and a six-inch silver barrel, and a bang that could render you deaf if you weren't careful.
Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to admire his new acquisition, for he'd managed to attract the unwanted aggression of three sharp-blade-wielding students. Thinking quickly, he jumped back and managed to land flat on his ass. This gave him enough distance for one shot and one shot only.
Quincy had fallen in love with the Python by playing Half-Life, where it was powerful enough to kill nearly anything in a few hits, several of which dropped after a single headshot. Sadly, he didn't pay attention to the way Gordon held the gun, not that there was much to go on in that regard, so while Quincy knew that he should probably use both hands to aim and fire, he wasn't exactly sure how.
To be sure, it was a spirited first attempt at firing. He managed to pull off a shot before the closest assailant, Jordan, could carve him like a turkey. It was a shame that the shot missed Jordan by several inches and the recoil caused him enough pain to drop the revolver altogether. "CHRIST!" he yelled in agony, before realizing that he was entirely at the mercy of a crowd of good guys who didn't seem too keen on mercy for the villain.
Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to admire his new acquisition, for he'd managed to attract the unwanted aggression of three sharp-blade-wielding students. Thinking quickly, he jumped back and managed to land flat on his ass. This gave him enough distance for one shot and one shot only.
Quincy had fallen in love with the Python by playing Half-Life, where it was powerful enough to kill nearly anything in a few hits, several of which dropped after a single headshot. Sadly, he didn't pay attention to the way Gordon held the gun, not that there was much to go on in that regard, so while Quincy knew that he should probably use both hands to aim and fire, he wasn't exactly sure how.
To be sure, it was a spirited first attempt at firing. He managed to pull off a shot before the closest assailant, Jordan, could carve him like a turkey. It was a shame that the shot missed Jordan by several inches and the recoil caused him enough pain to drop the revolver altogether. "CHRIST!" he yelled in agony, before realizing that he was entirely at the mercy of a crowd of good guys who didn't seem too keen on mercy for the villain.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Hannah's mind was blank as she rushed Quincy. Any grief she might have been feeling over Neil's death was currently absent. All there was was uncontrollable rage, and the only thought that entered her mind was.
Quincy has to die...
Before this, she believed that she was incapable of killing anyone, but the game had finally proven her wrong. Anyone can kill, they just need the right incentive.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting boom shook her out of her trance, just in time for something to strike her in the stomach with enough force to send her sprawling backwards, the scimitar flying out of her hand and landing close to the cliff's edge, and her hat coming right off her head and landing nearby. Laid out on the ground, Hannah stared up at the clearing sky, stunned for a moment before trying to get up, only to be met with an intense pain to her abdomen. Slowly lifting her head to look, she realized what had happened.
Oh...God, no...
It was hard to avoid seeing the gaping hole in her stomach, bleeding freely. There was no way in hell she was going to make it, at least not with what the island had to offer.
So this was it. She was going to die.
Other people on the island, when met with the inevitability of their demise, had usually responded with fear, or simple resignation. But what came to Hannah's mind first, was the return of the soul-crushing despair she had felt earlier. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the pain wracked her body.
It's not fair...
During her eight days on the island, she had accomplished nothing but getting into trouble. Even her attempts at rescuing one of SADD's members back at the barracks ended with him getting shot and killed anyway. When she wasn't freaking out from the latest attack, she was passing out from exhaustion. And even now, in the wake of Quincy's betrayal, when she'd finally found the resolve to fight back, all she managed to do was get herself shot before she could even get a scratch on him.
She had been useless. Completely and utterly useless. She couldn't help Warren. She couldn't help Neil. She couldn't even help herself.
Neil...
Quincy has to die...
Before this, she believed that she was incapable of killing anyone, but the game had finally proven her wrong. Anyone can kill, they just need the right incentive.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting boom shook her out of her trance, just in time for something to strike her in the stomach with enough force to send her sprawling backwards, the scimitar flying out of her hand and landing close to the cliff's edge, and her hat coming right off her head and landing nearby. Laid out on the ground, Hannah stared up at the clearing sky, stunned for a moment before trying to get up, only to be met with an intense pain to her abdomen. Slowly lifting her head to look, she realized what had happened.
Oh...God, no...
It was hard to avoid seeing the gaping hole in her stomach, bleeding freely. There was no way in hell she was going to make it, at least not with what the island had to offer.
So this was it. She was going to die.
Other people on the island, when met with the inevitability of their demise, had usually responded with fear, or simple resignation. But what came to Hannah's mind first, was the return of the soul-crushing despair she had felt earlier. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the pain wracked her body.
It's not fair...
During her eight days on the island, she had accomplished nothing but getting into trouble. Even her attempts at rescuing one of SADD's members back at the barracks ended with him getting shot and killed anyway. When she wasn't freaking out from the latest attack, she was passing out from exhaustion. And even now, in the wake of Quincy's betrayal, when she'd finally found the resolve to fight back, all she managed to do was get herself shot before she could even get a scratch on him.
She had been useless. Completely and utterly useless. She couldn't help Warren. She couldn't help Neil. She couldn't even help herself.
Neil...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
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Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
Pull myself together - holding on
Standing at the point of no return
Keeping on the right side of my heart
And the moment of truth is falling on me now
Someone could say, that Jordan was in some other mind dimension right now... and he would be probably right... Jordan was in a heat of the battle before. He had to defend himself from Julia, when she attacked him in the jungle. Jordan felt the extreme adrenaline pump before as well. Chasing some giant wave was a normal thing for a surfer like him. And yet this was different. Far different from anything he ever felt...
Everything went into a total slow motion. Every step, every movement of his body was taking forever. His mind on the other hand, went into light speed. Million of different thought has gone through his mind. Those important, and those less important. Big waves, Josh, Julia, whole island, Danya bastard, Quincy, Lex, GUN...
Or rather 'Holy Shit, GUN!', because right in this moment Quincy fired his Colt... And just like in the 'Matrix' or some other movie, he could see coming bullet. However he hadn't any of Neo's superpowers, and he could only watch, as the bullet... missed him?
Yes, that's right. Missed him. He turned his head to see the bullet flying near his left hip, and... hitting Hannah right in the stomach...
Fuck
Slow motion ended in an instant. Jordan felt, that he was losing stableness, so he quickly turned again, just to see... Quincy. They were already face-to-face. And then, they collided. And then, they both went down to the ground from the impact. Fortunately for Jordan, he was on the top, and he could easily pin down Quincy to the ground because of body size and strength difference.
They won. Quincy was down. Now only one thing was missing. The gun obviously. It wasn't in Englishman's hand... Jordan looked up at the ground near him... aaaaand BINGO! There it was, lying on the ground and just waiting to be picked up. Then however, his eyes once again stopped on Hannah, now lying on the ground as well and... crying...
What should he do? He was planning to take the gun right from the first encounter with SADD at the Lagoon. But Hannah was his ally. And she was a girl... And she was hurt... His mind once again exploded with thoughts.
Take the gun! No, help her! You can't help her now, take the gun! Bullshit, she needs you...
Gun! Hannah! GunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHowAboutKillingThisFuckerWho DidThisToHer? No, no time for it.... Gun! Hannah!
Gun!
Hannah!
GUN!
HANNAH!
BOTH, YOU IDIOT!!!
"ENOUGH!!!!!!"
Jordan wasn't aware, that he actually said 'Enough' part aloud, right in Quincy's face. But that wasn't the case right now. He finally spotted Dorian, who now stopped after Jordan's failed charge. He almost forgot about him...
"Dorian! Hold him down! I'll check if Hannah is all right!"
He slowly stood up, still holding his knife in emergency, if Quincy would tried to do anything. Then he quickly grabbed the Colt, and took few steps back, letting Dorian do the intimidating role... Now, when his mind had cleared a little now, he took a strong grip on his new firearm... But he had no time to even look at it. Hannah was bleeding, and he needed to help her.
His mind was foggy. His vision was blurry. His body was exhausted. But this wasn't the time for a rest yet...
Slowly, he went in her direction, mumbling under his nose... no one could hear him, but it was something about being all right, and not dying...
Standing at the point of no return
Keeping on the right side of my heart
And the moment of truth is falling on me now
Someone could say, that Jordan was in some other mind dimension right now... and he would be probably right... Jordan was in a heat of the battle before. He had to defend himself from Julia, when she attacked him in the jungle. Jordan felt the extreme adrenaline pump before as well. Chasing some giant wave was a normal thing for a surfer like him. And yet this was different. Far different from anything he ever felt...
Everything went into a total slow motion. Every step, every movement of his body was taking forever. His mind on the other hand, went into light speed. Million of different thought has gone through his mind. Those important, and those less important. Big waves, Josh, Julia, whole island, Danya bastard, Quincy, Lex, GUN...
Or rather 'Holy Shit, GUN!', because right in this moment Quincy fired his Colt... And just like in the 'Matrix' or some other movie, he could see coming bullet. However he hadn't any of Neo's superpowers, and he could only watch, as the bullet... missed him?
Yes, that's right. Missed him. He turned his head to see the bullet flying near his left hip, and... hitting Hannah right in the stomach...
Fuck
Slow motion ended in an instant. Jordan felt, that he was losing stableness, so he quickly turned again, just to see... Quincy. They were already face-to-face. And then, they collided. And then, they both went down to the ground from the impact. Fortunately for Jordan, he was on the top, and he could easily pin down Quincy to the ground because of body size and strength difference.
They won. Quincy was down. Now only one thing was missing. The gun obviously. It wasn't in Englishman's hand... Jordan looked up at the ground near him... aaaaand BINGO! There it was, lying on the ground and just waiting to be picked up. Then however, his eyes once again stopped on Hannah, now lying on the ground as well and... crying...
What should he do? He was planning to take the gun right from the first encounter with SADD at the Lagoon. But Hannah was his ally. And she was a girl... And she was hurt... His mind once again exploded with thoughts.
Take the gun! No, help her! You can't help her now, take the gun! Bullshit, she needs you...
Gun! Hannah! GunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHannahgunHowAboutKillingThisFuckerWho DidThisToHer? No, no time for it.... Gun! Hannah!
Gun!
Hannah!
GUN!
HANNAH!
BOTH, YOU IDIOT!!!
"ENOUGH!!!!!!"
Jordan wasn't aware, that he actually said 'Enough' part aloud, right in Quincy's face. But that wasn't the case right now. He finally spotted Dorian, who now stopped after Jordan's failed charge. He almost forgot about him...
"Dorian! Hold him down! I'll check if Hannah is all right!"
He slowly stood up, still holding his knife in emergency, if Quincy would tried to do anything. Then he quickly grabbed the Colt, and took few steps back, letting Dorian do the intimidating role... Now, when his mind had cleared a little now, he took a strong grip on his new firearm... But he had no time to even look at it. Hannah was bleeding, and he needed to help her.
His mind was foggy. His vision was blurry. His body was exhausted. But this wasn't the time for a rest yet...
Slowly, he went in her direction, mumbling under his nose... no one could hear him, but it was something about being all right, and not dying...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
It appeared that Dorian was the only one not operating in slow motion out of everyone there, as he rushed Quincy, butcher's knife primed above his shoulder. It wasn't going to be pretty, what happened to Quincy, but Dorian was too busy trying to save everyone from the nutter with the gun to think too far ahead of himself.
Hence, Dorian wasn't prepared for Quincy actually firing the damn hand cannon at someone. Dorian skidded to a halt, falling backwards onto the thin grass, free hand outstretched to break his fall. He sat there for a second, staring at Quincy, who had dropped the gun and had, in all likelihood, done some intense damage to his wrists. Jordan collided with the assailant, and his head shot backwards as he was holding Quincy down.
Dorian followed Jordan's gaze.
Oh, shit no.
If there was one thing Dorian could say about the time he had been on the island, it was that he had never witnessed the death of what he would call a 'right' person. He'd seen attackers get mortally wounded and killed right in front of him, and he'd become somewhat desensitized to it. But now that Hannah had been floored by Quincy's Colt, and faced a very imminent death, Dorian was stunned. This was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to prevent by searching for the transmitter, and yet he couldn't.
It was all falling apart around him.
Dorian stared in Hannah's direction, his eyes unfocused and glazed.
Everything he was seeking to prevent was happening.
Fuck you, Danya, I'm not trying to do this for nothing! You bastard, I will succeed. I fucking have to. I fucking have to...
"Dorian! Hold him down! I'll check if Hannah is all right!"
Dorian snapped out of his bitter trance and his head spun to where the call to action had come from. Jordan was gesturing to him, and so Dorian scrambled over, bringing the butcher's knife to Quincy's neck. Jordan grabbed the Colt and ran to Hannah, whose breathing was becoming short, sharp. She wasn't going to be alive for much longer, and it would be something short of a miracle that could save her.
But Hannah wasn't Dorian's focus right now, worried and angry as he was. His focus was on crazy little Quincy Archer's neck.
"So, Quincy," Dorian said in an unnervingly nonchalant fashion, calling on his acting skills, "Hannah over there's going to die. Why does she deserve to die, Quincy? Why does a man who is willing to take life deserve to live over someone who values life? Where is the justice in that, Quincy Archer? Where...is...the...justice...in...that?"
His voice suddenly turned dark and brutal, and he narrowed his eyebrows, playing up the fury. "You know what you are, Quincy? You're a sad little king of a sad little hill. You think we're all under you, you insensitive, worthless prick. What makes you better than everyone else here? Nothing. You don't deserve to live more than me, more than Jordan, more than Hannah over there, but something's gotten into your head that says you do. Don't even think about butting in, I'm not finished. Something's gotten into your head, and it's screwed you up. Wake up, Quincy. This is the real world - death only leads to your death and if you keep killing, you'll only end up being killed. The only way off this island is through fucking co-operation, get it through your skull. This isn't a game, it's a social experiment. And you're failing."
Dorian wiped his brow.
Jesus, there better be an Emmy in this for me, that was a fucking masterpiece of improv.
Hence, Dorian wasn't prepared for Quincy actually firing the damn hand cannon at someone. Dorian skidded to a halt, falling backwards onto the thin grass, free hand outstretched to break his fall. He sat there for a second, staring at Quincy, who had dropped the gun and had, in all likelihood, done some intense damage to his wrists. Jordan collided with the assailant, and his head shot backwards as he was holding Quincy down.
Dorian followed Jordan's gaze.
Oh, shit no.
If there was one thing Dorian could say about the time he had been on the island, it was that he had never witnessed the death of what he would call a 'right' person. He'd seen attackers get mortally wounded and killed right in front of him, and he'd become somewhat desensitized to it. But now that Hannah had been floored by Quincy's Colt, and faced a very imminent death, Dorian was stunned. This was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to prevent by searching for the transmitter, and yet he couldn't.
It was all falling apart around him.
Dorian stared in Hannah's direction, his eyes unfocused and glazed.
Everything he was seeking to prevent was happening.
Fuck you, Danya, I'm not trying to do this for nothing! You bastard, I will succeed. I fucking have to. I fucking have to...
"Dorian! Hold him down! I'll check if Hannah is all right!"
Dorian snapped out of his bitter trance and his head spun to where the call to action had come from. Jordan was gesturing to him, and so Dorian scrambled over, bringing the butcher's knife to Quincy's neck. Jordan grabbed the Colt and ran to Hannah, whose breathing was becoming short, sharp. She wasn't going to be alive for much longer, and it would be something short of a miracle that could save her.
But Hannah wasn't Dorian's focus right now, worried and angry as he was. His focus was on crazy little Quincy Archer's neck.
"So, Quincy," Dorian said in an unnervingly nonchalant fashion, calling on his acting skills, "Hannah over there's going to die. Why does she deserve to die, Quincy? Why does a man who is willing to take life deserve to live over someone who values life? Where is the justice in that, Quincy Archer? Where...is...the...justice...in...that?"
His voice suddenly turned dark and brutal, and he narrowed his eyebrows, playing up the fury. "You know what you are, Quincy? You're a sad little king of a sad little hill. You think we're all under you, you insensitive, worthless prick. What makes you better than everyone else here? Nothing. You don't deserve to live more than me, more than Jordan, more than Hannah over there, but something's gotten into your head that says you do. Don't even think about butting in, I'm not finished. Something's gotten into your head, and it's screwed you up. Wake up, Quincy. This is the real world - death only leads to your death and if you keep killing, you'll only end up being killed. The only way off this island is through fucking co-operation, get it through your skull. This isn't a game, it's a social experiment. And you're failing."
Dorian wiped his brow.
Jesus, there better be an Emmy in this for me, that was a fucking masterpiece of improv.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. 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.