((Eddie continued from From Serenity to Shame))
Somewhere, once upon a time, a popular person had told a rather scrawny little boy to go into a dark corner away from everyone and just drop dead.
Eduardo Trinidad never really remembered that moment (much less the person who told him to scram like that), but he never expected it to come almost completely true, as he found himself slumbering on a table's bench seat in a dark corner of what appeared to be an old mess hall that he suspected was dangerously close to the barracks where he had killed Tanya Bonneville. Not that her death was anything for Eddie to lose any sleep over, but that didn't mean he was still sleeping with one proverbial eye open.
This dark corner of all the buildings on the island would only lessen his chances of being discovered. During nightfall, anyone with a flashlight - mandatory equipment for this game of survival - could have discovered him. Of course, daylight was now starting to break, and that meant Eddie would have to start moving lest a would-be discoverer not need a flashlight. Fortunately for Eddie though, he was already awake, though still lying down. He seemed almost deathly silent on that uncomfortable bench seat, with his supply bag as a makeshift pillow. His mind, however, was already up and working at full capacity.
What if he got up and the last thing he saw before falling into a permanent sleep was the nozzle of Bobby Jack's gun? What if he met the person who'd set the trap that he pushed Tanya into, and the last thing he would realize was that Blood Boy had built an entire trap around Eddie while he slept that would viciously kill him with the slightest movement?
Eddie decided not to get up to find out. Instead, he slowly rolled himself off the table, putting his legs down ahead so he could silently dismount into a crouch. He looked up as he did so, not finding anyone on top of the table, and once he was below, the daylight would enable him to see whoever was in there with him...so he'd kept his hand clasped around the Highlander's hilt.
He was silently thankful that the scent of Tanya's blood was concealed by the sheath.
Best Served Cold
Revenge and Bad Spaghetti
Best Served Cold
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
OOC: Darnell continued from Start - G07
IC:
The rays of the sun were already illuminating the sky, but the announcement was still ringing in his ears as he once again emerged from the foliage of the jungle to see a building in front of him. According to the map, at least when he had checked it earlier, it was the mess hall. The mess hall...if he was here, he had just missed Guy, that or Guy was still in there. His friend, Guy Rapide, had killed a kid in that building by locking him in the deep freeze, according to the announcement. Well, he hadn't directly killed him, but it had apparently caused Alex to accidentally kill himself. Guy was annoying at times, but a killer? Stopping his advance towards the mess hall for a second to shake his head at the idea, he tried to remind himself of how ridiculous it sounded. Guy couldn't be a murderer, he couldn't be playing the game, neither could Keith. It was stupid to even consider the possibility; he knew them, and that just wasn't the kind of person either of them was. Though there was that unsettling gleam in Guy's eye when Darnell had seen him with his bayonet.
I don't care what that sick fuck Danya said, there had to have been a reason! They wouldn't just attack our classmates for kicks! They're not monsters, I know it!
To say Darnell hadn't quite yet come to terms with the fact that nine of his classmates had been murdered over the past day, and that people were willingly killing each other, would be an understatement. He had naively thought that nobody would actually consider killing their classmates in this sick program, and his hopes had been dashed while he travelled more through the seemingly endless jungle, paradoxically desperately trying to block out Danya's horrible voice while at the same time trying to listen with the hope that none of his close friends (he liked to think of himself as being friends with most of the senior class, or at least acquaintances, but he was closer to some than others) would be on the announcement. It was almost wrong to describe him as being shocked and sickened by what he heard, and how much joy Danya seemed to have in the fact that nine seniors who should have been enjoying their senior trip were now dead, some of them killed in very grisly ways. The taste of bile was still in his throat from how the report had caused him to vomit. He had been intentionally trying to forget what Danya said about Heather and Lance, it hadn't really set in yet, but if he dwelled on it too much he didn't have many doubts he'd go from being sickened straight down the slippery slope. He had put his scholarship and future on the line in the Shooters tournament, and almost lost it all, for Lance, and it had all amounted to nothing. The only things that had kept him from losing it when he heard what had happened where that he hadn't seen it himself, the fact that he was trying to force it out of his mind (to the point where he had temporarily forgotten the exact details), and his repeated reminders to himself that it was Danya's fault, not theirs, that they were in this situation.
By now though the distant sounds of gunfire had already started up again, allowing him to fully decide that he had spent enough time in the open. If people really were playing, staying in the open for too long was practically asking to get shot. Keeping this in mind, he slid his right foot forward in a slow, deliberate motion. Gently setting it on the ground, he moved his left foot up as well when nothing exploded. Earlier, probably about three hours before, he had almost stepped on something in the jungle, only noticing it when his heel slightly nudged it as he turned a corner. When he took a closer look, digging up the apparently buried object, he discovered a Claymore land mine. He had come within a square inch of blowing himself to kingdom come, and never would have known until it was too late. He had been carefully monitoring each step he took since, understandably nervous about a repeat experience. The grass under his feet made a soft crunching noise as he steadily made his way to the front door, the hedgeclippers held in front of him in a defensive posture. He reached the door without incident, but found himself pausing in front of it. What if someone was inside? People were actively killing their classmates, he could end up running right into one of those people. And then what? All he had was a pair of hedgeclippers, and he had been hearing gunshots almost non stop. He could be killed, and then he'd never see his friends again, never go home to fulfill his dream of playing in the NFL. Not that it was likely he'd be able to return to a normal life easily, if at all, in the event that he survived the game.
It's a risk I have to take.
He'd never get anywhere in the game, he supposed, if he never risked walking in on anyone. Especially in this instance; avoiding the mess hall would mean giving up his chance to find out what really happened. He'd be damned if he was going to take some...some terrorist's word over what he knew of his own friends. Besides, he could use some shelter for a while anyway, if only to temporarily get out of the heat (there was something ironic about a California resident who hated the heat). Thinking nothing more of it and gathering his courage, he walked inside, looking around once he got in. At this hour there was just enough light for him to see well, as it was still relatively early in the morning (by his estimate), and he could see nobody inside. There were many tables in the area, immediately in front of where he was standing (in the doorway), and looking over to the side showed the food line and kitchen. Presumably, the deep freeze was at the far wall, across the mess hall from where he stood, he gathered this from how there was nothing indicative of one in the immediate vicinity.
Overall, the area looked very similar to the cafeteria back at Southridge, though seeing as it was an old military mess hall, this wasn't really a surprise. Lowering the hedgeclippers and closing them, as he had been holding the blades open, he walked to his right and into the lunch line. Walking down this line to where he assumed the kitchen would be, the only sounds being that of his feet impacting the ground and his own breath, he could easily imagine how the hall might have been who-knows-how-long ago, vibrant and bustling with people, the walls echoing with chatter as the men ate their meals. Maybe they were exchanging the most recent rumours and bitching about the quality of the food just like students at Southridge had done. Either way, it only served to add to the eerie atmosphere of the abandoned building, how one minute a place could be filled with life, and the next everything was gone, and things were like nothing had ever set foot in there. A chill quickly went down his spine, but was soon gone.
I wonder how long ago it was that I would have had to wait in a que to move down the line like this.
Making his way into the kitchen, Darnell still saw nothing extraordinary, looking around and listening carefully in order to pick up any disturbances. He hadn't seen the shell casings on the ground in the main part of the mess hall, and therefore did not pick anything up at first. The only sounds he clearly heard were still those made by his own feet, but even those stopped as he got close enough to the door. The pack slid down off of his shoulder, landing on the floor once Darnell adjusted his hand
Darnell Butler had seen slices of Swiss Cheese with fewer holes than were in that door. There was no mistaking them for anything other than bullet holes, either. It was exactly as Danya said. Without a doubt, the corpse of Alex Steele was somewhere behind the door, too.
Fuck...it's the truth? Guy...no, it had to be self defense! He wouldn't murder anyone in cold blood...and besides, according to the announcement Guy technically didn't kill Alex.
For a while, all Darnell could do was stare at the door. He was wrong again. First about the existence of SOTF itself, and now about the truthfulness about the announcements (though in his defence he had never seen an SOTF game before and thus did not know that Danya never outright lied in the announcements). If it was true about Guy, then it had to be for Keith. How could that be possible? He and Keith knew each other, and Keith had never been the type to be violent unless provoked as far as Darnell could remember, and he had been in a sort of friendly rivalry with Keith for some time. He wasn't a killer, he couldn't be.
But the announcement said he shot Charlie Burchman. Twice.
Charlie was one of the only people in Southridge Darnell could not stand. A fat, rich, slob, Charlie had always been obsessed with himself to such a degree Darnell would have been surprised if the obese boy had thought of anyone else as a person (even more so than he had been surprised the kid could stand with that much fat). The boy never failed to make Darnell's mood worse on any given day, potentially disastrous on the few occasions where he was already in a rotten mood. He could never name any one thing that he actually liked about Charlie, especially since Burchman seemed to only deign to interact with others by treating them like dirt. He had never put up with it from any of the other bullies in the school, even brawled with his friends on the football and wrestling team over it at times, and he definitely wasn't ever keen on taking it from Charlie, of all people. It sickened him to say it, but he was almost glad he was dead. Darnell wouldn't be surprised if Charlie had forced Keith to act in self defense.
Still, if Keith shot Charlie, what would stop him from shooting other people? What, other than pure trust, could make Darnell sure Keith wasn't playing? Nothing, so far. For all Darnell knew, he was happily trying to gun down anyone who stepped within range.
No, I can't accept that. That's bullshit, impossible! It'd never happen! There's got to be something Danya isn't telling us. I'll find the truth, even if I have to beat it out of Keith.
This train of thought was suddenly interrupted when Darnell finally heard something behind him. Movement. Spinning around to face that direction, Darnell raised his hedgeclippers defensively again, reopening the blades. Someone was coming, he could hear them. Instead of waiting for them to appear in the kitchen, however, he stepped forward a bit and called out, his voice low and in a sort of bellow but also nonthreatening.
"Who's there?"
Oh, great, now if they're a player they'll DEFINITELY know someone's in here. Good going, Darnell!
IC:
The rays of the sun were already illuminating the sky, but the announcement was still ringing in his ears as he once again emerged from the foliage of the jungle to see a building in front of him. According to the map, at least when he had checked it earlier, it was the mess hall. The mess hall...if he was here, he had just missed Guy, that or Guy was still in there. His friend, Guy Rapide, had killed a kid in that building by locking him in the deep freeze, according to the announcement. Well, he hadn't directly killed him, but it had apparently caused Alex to accidentally kill himself. Guy was annoying at times, but a killer? Stopping his advance towards the mess hall for a second to shake his head at the idea, he tried to remind himself of how ridiculous it sounded. Guy couldn't be a murderer, he couldn't be playing the game, neither could Keith. It was stupid to even consider the possibility; he knew them, and that just wasn't the kind of person either of them was. Though there was that unsettling gleam in Guy's eye when Darnell had seen him with his bayonet.
I don't care what that sick fuck Danya said, there had to have been a reason! They wouldn't just attack our classmates for kicks! They're not monsters, I know it!
To say Darnell hadn't quite yet come to terms with the fact that nine of his classmates had been murdered over the past day, and that people were willingly killing each other, would be an understatement. He had naively thought that nobody would actually consider killing their classmates in this sick program, and his hopes had been dashed while he travelled more through the seemingly endless jungle, paradoxically desperately trying to block out Danya's horrible voice while at the same time trying to listen with the hope that none of his close friends (he liked to think of himself as being friends with most of the senior class, or at least acquaintances, but he was closer to some than others) would be on the announcement. It was almost wrong to describe him as being shocked and sickened by what he heard, and how much joy Danya seemed to have in the fact that nine seniors who should have been enjoying their senior trip were now dead, some of them killed in very grisly ways. The taste of bile was still in his throat from how the report had caused him to vomit. He had been intentionally trying to forget what Danya said about Heather and Lance, it hadn't really set in yet, but if he dwelled on it too much he didn't have many doubts he'd go from being sickened straight down the slippery slope. He had put his scholarship and future on the line in the Shooters tournament, and almost lost it all, for Lance, and it had all amounted to nothing. The only things that had kept him from losing it when he heard what had happened where that he hadn't seen it himself, the fact that he was trying to force it out of his mind (to the point where he had temporarily forgotten the exact details), and his repeated reminders to himself that it was Danya's fault, not theirs, that they were in this situation.
By now though the distant sounds of gunfire had already started up again, allowing him to fully decide that he had spent enough time in the open. If people really were playing, staying in the open for too long was practically asking to get shot. Keeping this in mind, he slid his right foot forward in a slow, deliberate motion. Gently setting it on the ground, he moved his left foot up as well when nothing exploded. Earlier, probably about three hours before, he had almost stepped on something in the jungle, only noticing it when his heel slightly nudged it as he turned a corner. When he took a closer look, digging up the apparently buried object, he discovered a Claymore land mine. He had come within a square inch of blowing himself to kingdom come, and never would have known until it was too late. He had been carefully monitoring each step he took since, understandably nervous about a repeat experience. The grass under his feet made a soft crunching noise as he steadily made his way to the front door, the hedgeclippers held in front of him in a defensive posture. He reached the door without incident, but found himself pausing in front of it. What if someone was inside? People were actively killing their classmates, he could end up running right into one of those people. And then what? All he had was a pair of hedgeclippers, and he had been hearing gunshots almost non stop. He could be killed, and then he'd never see his friends again, never go home to fulfill his dream of playing in the NFL. Not that it was likely he'd be able to return to a normal life easily, if at all, in the event that he survived the game.
It's a risk I have to take.
He'd never get anywhere in the game, he supposed, if he never risked walking in on anyone. Especially in this instance; avoiding the mess hall would mean giving up his chance to find out what really happened. He'd be damned if he was going to take some...some terrorist's word over what he knew of his own friends. Besides, he could use some shelter for a while anyway, if only to temporarily get out of the heat (there was something ironic about a California resident who hated the heat). Thinking nothing more of it and gathering his courage, he walked inside, looking around once he got in. At this hour there was just enough light for him to see well, as it was still relatively early in the morning (by his estimate), and he could see nobody inside. There were many tables in the area, immediately in front of where he was standing (in the doorway), and looking over to the side showed the food line and kitchen. Presumably, the deep freeze was at the far wall, across the mess hall from where he stood, he gathered this from how there was nothing indicative of one in the immediate vicinity.
Overall, the area looked very similar to the cafeteria back at Southridge, though seeing as it was an old military mess hall, this wasn't really a surprise. Lowering the hedgeclippers and closing them, as he had been holding the blades open, he walked to his right and into the lunch line. Walking down this line to where he assumed the kitchen would be, the only sounds being that of his feet impacting the ground and his own breath, he could easily imagine how the hall might have been who-knows-how-long ago, vibrant and bustling with people, the walls echoing with chatter as the men ate their meals. Maybe they were exchanging the most recent rumours and bitching about the quality of the food just like students at Southridge had done. Either way, it only served to add to the eerie atmosphere of the abandoned building, how one minute a place could be filled with life, and the next everything was gone, and things were like nothing had ever set foot in there. A chill quickly went down his spine, but was soon gone.
I wonder how long ago it was that I would have had to wait in a que to move down the line like this.
Making his way into the kitchen, Darnell still saw nothing extraordinary, looking around and listening carefully in order to pick up any disturbances. He hadn't seen the shell casings on the ground in the main part of the mess hall, and therefore did not pick anything up at first. The only sounds he clearly heard were still those made by his own feet, but even those stopped as he got close enough to the door. The pack slid down off of his shoulder, landing on the floor once Darnell adjusted his hand
Darnell Butler had seen slices of Swiss Cheese with fewer holes than were in that door. There was no mistaking them for anything other than bullet holes, either. It was exactly as Danya said. Without a doubt, the corpse of Alex Steele was somewhere behind the door, too.
Fuck...it's the truth? Guy...no, it had to be self defense! He wouldn't murder anyone in cold blood...and besides, according to the announcement Guy technically didn't kill Alex.
For a while, all Darnell could do was stare at the door. He was wrong again. First about the existence of SOTF itself, and now about the truthfulness about the announcements (though in his defence he had never seen an SOTF game before and thus did not know that Danya never outright lied in the announcements). If it was true about Guy, then it had to be for Keith. How could that be possible? He and Keith knew each other, and Keith had never been the type to be violent unless provoked as far as Darnell could remember, and he had been in a sort of friendly rivalry with Keith for some time. He wasn't a killer, he couldn't be.
But the announcement said he shot Charlie Burchman. Twice.
Charlie was one of the only people in Southridge Darnell could not stand. A fat, rich, slob, Charlie had always been obsessed with himself to such a degree Darnell would have been surprised if the obese boy had thought of anyone else as a person (even more so than he had been surprised the kid could stand with that much fat). The boy never failed to make Darnell's mood worse on any given day, potentially disastrous on the few occasions where he was already in a rotten mood. He could never name any one thing that he actually liked about Charlie, especially since Burchman seemed to only deign to interact with others by treating them like dirt. He had never put up with it from any of the other bullies in the school, even brawled with his friends on the football and wrestling team over it at times, and he definitely wasn't ever keen on taking it from Charlie, of all people. It sickened him to say it, but he was almost glad he was dead. Darnell wouldn't be surprised if Charlie had forced Keith to act in self defense.
Still, if Keith shot Charlie, what would stop him from shooting other people? What, other than pure trust, could make Darnell sure Keith wasn't playing? Nothing, so far. For all Darnell knew, he was happily trying to gun down anyone who stepped within range.
No, I can't accept that. That's bullshit, impossible! It'd never happen! There's got to be something Danya isn't telling us. I'll find the truth, even if I have to beat it out of Keith.
This train of thought was suddenly interrupted when Darnell finally heard something behind him. Movement. Spinning around to face that direction, Darnell raised his hedgeclippers defensively again, reopening the blades. Someone was coming, he could hear them. Instead of waiting for them to appear in the kitchen, however, he stepped forward a bit and called out, his voice low and in a sort of bellow but also nonthreatening.
"Who's there?"
Oh, great, now if they're a player they'll DEFINITELY know someone's in here. Good going, Darnell!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
The sound of footsteps caught Eddie's attention, shifting his gaze to the front door, where a large figure had entered. A tall, muscular African American type dressed (somewhat appropriately) in black, the first name that came to mind associated with jocks sent a shiver down Ed's spine. Bobby Jacks could probably have pursued Eddie all the way here and was just waiting for daylight so as to lessen the chances of a sword through the gut in the dark. As he pieced memories of the bus trip together though, he realized it was someone else.
Darnell Butler. At once, Eddie was not so much afraid as he was ticked off.
It was no secret that Darnell had ambitions of making it into the NFL, and it was never a secret that pleased a boy who was always envious of the success - and attention - that jocks got in life at the expense of those who could actually think. Darnell was "kind" (or so jocks liked to present themselves to get chicks) and popular and was a talented athlete. Why wouldn't he have the world on a silver platter after college? The very thought made Eddie unsheathe the sword slowly as he watched Darnell walk behind the lunchline. Eddie put his supplies down by the corner where he was sleeping so as to keep things light, and started crouch-walking along the front of the lunch line as Darnell went back.
If Ed played his cards right, the jock would walk right into a dead end and find a shiny Highlander going straight for his jugular if he turned around.
The jock was falling for it as Eduardo trailed him through the back of the lunch line, with Eddie still crouch-walking so as not to be (immediately) spotted from the jock's height should he turn around. He could just see past the jock into the kitchen, where there appeared to be a door to some kind of large freezer or refridgerator.
Perfect to hide the meat in...
"Who's there?!" The jock suddenly turned around and brandished a formidable pair of hedge clippers.
The sudden exclamation caused Eduardo to glue himself to the narrow side wall between the lunchline and the entryway to the kitchen, sword pointed straight up (and the flat edge of the blood-stained blade leaning on his nose.) Ed tried to control his breathing as he clenched his teeth, but the faint scent of blood - and the preceding thought of meat - almost made him drool like an animal. There weren't any back doors he could see from the kitchen, so Darnell appeared to be trapped in a dead end. Eddie tried to keep his seething to a minimum as he tried to figure out what to do next...or rather, how to go about getting rid of Darnell before anyone else walked in.
Darnell Butler. At once, Eddie was not so much afraid as he was ticked off.
It was no secret that Darnell had ambitions of making it into the NFL, and it was never a secret that pleased a boy who was always envious of the success - and attention - that jocks got in life at the expense of those who could actually think. Darnell was "kind" (or so jocks liked to present themselves to get chicks) and popular and was a talented athlete. Why wouldn't he have the world on a silver platter after college? The very thought made Eddie unsheathe the sword slowly as he watched Darnell walk behind the lunchline. Eddie put his supplies down by the corner where he was sleeping so as to keep things light, and started crouch-walking along the front of the lunch line as Darnell went back.
If Ed played his cards right, the jock would walk right into a dead end and find a shiny Highlander going straight for his jugular if he turned around.
The jock was falling for it as Eduardo trailed him through the back of the lunch line, with Eddie still crouch-walking so as not to be (immediately) spotted from the jock's height should he turn around. He could just see past the jock into the kitchen, where there appeared to be a door to some kind of large freezer or refridgerator.
Perfect to hide the meat in...
"Who's there?!" The jock suddenly turned around and brandished a formidable pair of hedge clippers.
The sudden exclamation caused Eduardo to glue himself to the narrow side wall between the lunchline and the entryway to the kitchen, sword pointed straight up (and the flat edge of the blood-stained blade leaning on his nose.) Ed tried to control his breathing as he clenched his teeth, but the faint scent of blood - and the preceding thought of meat - almost made him drool like an animal. There weren't any back doors he could see from the kitchen, so Darnell appeared to be trapped in a dead end. Eddie tried to keep his seething to a minimum as he tried to figure out what to do next...or rather, how to go about getting rid of Darnell before anyone else walked in.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
Whoever the person was had apparently elected to stay hidden, as there was no response to Darnell's call. Nobody came out, and there was no verbal response either. However, it was obvious someone was there, as he had heard someone directly behind him just before he turned around, and as he waited if he listened carefully he could occasionally hear the sound of someone breathing, though it was faint. The fact that they seemed determined to hide from him wasn't a good sign, but they had to have their reasons.
This lead to an interesting situation, as Darnell knew that someone was waiting there and was not willing to head out until they revealed themselves, as not waiting until they came out was just asking for an ambush, but the person refused to appear. Conversely, it allowed Darnell to relax, as he believed if the person really meant him harm they would have attacked already. Still, it meant Darnell was more or less trapped in the kitchen for the moment.
Heh, maybe they're not coming out because they think I'm a threat? They might be as wary of being ambushed as I am.
Darnell could understand perfectly if the person wasn't coming out just because they were being cautious, though he hoped the other students saw him as more trustworthy than that. Darnell was a star athlete and considered by many, especially after the Shooters tournament, to be the best fighter in Southridge. Darnell wasn't sure about that himself, but reputation was reputation, and it seemed that nothing Darnell said could shake the notion. Such a reputation carried with it a certain intimidation factor, especially in a "contest" where the object was to kill your classmates and the winner was the last one left alive.
Of course, it was also possible they were just waiting for Darnell to let his guard down so they could rush out and attack him. They could be an ambitious player who just didn't have a gun but was looking to up their reputation by being the one who took out "The Bull". It could even be someone out to avenge some wrong Darnell had inflicted upon them in the past; as much as Darnell hated to admit it, he still had some enemies, and there were people he had wronged in the past whom he had never been able to make amends to either through circumstance or them being the type to hold a grudge.
Darnell's nature was typically an optimistic one, though, and he preferred not to think that way. Still, the stakes were too high to get careless. He had to get out of this building alive, and preferably off the island in the same condition. Taking a few tentative, careful steps towards the short wall that separated the lunch line from the kitchen, he tightened his grip on the hedgeclippers just in case. One never could really tell what would happen.
"Come on, man," he said, "I know you're there. I heard you. Listen, I don't want any trouble. If I had my way this game never would've existed, or we'd at least all get off without having to hurt each other, but I guess that's too naive. What I mean to say is, I don't want anything to do with this stupid 'game', and I'm sure as hell not going to hurt any of my classmates if I can help it. Besides, unless you're a giant tree or something I don't think I can hurt you much with these hedgeclippers, and if you are I think you've got more important things to worry about."
Darnell chuckled a bit at his own joke, an attempt to ease the tension he could feel building up. In all honesty, he was getting slightly nervous, as he had no way of knowing just who was there, or if there even was anyone there and Darnell wasn't just insane, but he kept this under the surface. For now, all he could do was wait to see what would happen.
OOC: Short, sorry. Exhausted.
This lead to an interesting situation, as Darnell knew that someone was waiting there and was not willing to head out until they revealed themselves, as not waiting until they came out was just asking for an ambush, but the person refused to appear. Conversely, it allowed Darnell to relax, as he believed if the person really meant him harm they would have attacked already. Still, it meant Darnell was more or less trapped in the kitchen for the moment.
Heh, maybe they're not coming out because they think I'm a threat? They might be as wary of being ambushed as I am.
Darnell could understand perfectly if the person wasn't coming out just because they were being cautious, though he hoped the other students saw him as more trustworthy than that. Darnell was a star athlete and considered by many, especially after the Shooters tournament, to be the best fighter in Southridge. Darnell wasn't sure about that himself, but reputation was reputation, and it seemed that nothing Darnell said could shake the notion. Such a reputation carried with it a certain intimidation factor, especially in a "contest" where the object was to kill your classmates and the winner was the last one left alive.
Of course, it was also possible they were just waiting for Darnell to let his guard down so they could rush out and attack him. They could be an ambitious player who just didn't have a gun but was looking to up their reputation by being the one who took out "The Bull". It could even be someone out to avenge some wrong Darnell had inflicted upon them in the past; as much as Darnell hated to admit it, he still had some enemies, and there were people he had wronged in the past whom he had never been able to make amends to either through circumstance or them being the type to hold a grudge.
Darnell's nature was typically an optimistic one, though, and he preferred not to think that way. Still, the stakes were too high to get careless. He had to get out of this building alive, and preferably off the island in the same condition. Taking a few tentative, careful steps towards the short wall that separated the lunch line from the kitchen, he tightened his grip on the hedgeclippers just in case. One never could really tell what would happen.
"Come on, man," he said, "I know you're there. I heard you. Listen, I don't want any trouble. If I had my way this game never would've existed, or we'd at least all get off without having to hurt each other, but I guess that's too naive. What I mean to say is, I don't want anything to do with this stupid 'game', and I'm sure as hell not going to hurt any of my classmates if I can help it. Besides, unless you're a giant tree or something I don't think I can hurt you much with these hedgeclippers, and if you are I think you've got more important things to worry about."
Darnell chuckled a bit at his own joke, an attempt to ease the tension he could feel building up. In all honesty, he was getting slightly nervous, as he had no way of knowing just who was there, or if there even was anyone there and Darnell wasn't just insane, but he kept this under the surface. For now, all he could do was wait to see what would happen.
OOC: Short, sorry. Exhausted.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Maybe Darnell had been joking in a lighthearted manner, meaning that he really couldn't hurt anyone with those hedgeclippers. Eddie, however, didn't buy it. He remembered what happened when Bobby Jacks tried to joke with him, and he was damned if he was going to take another chance with the humor of another large black jock with a deadly weapon. He tilted his head just a bit to see if anyone was in the lunch line, and slid himself up (with his back to the wall) until he was leaning on the wall by the doorway, sword raised and ready. The stakes were probably never higher now - but then again, it was only Day 2.
With nobody else coming down - or aiming down - the lunch line, Eddie turned himself so that he stepped into the doorway, sword in a very threatening ready stance. He could see Darnell had hedge clippers...though it had been a while since the announcement so he wouldn't know if he'd killed someone and taken their firearm as well. He looked into Darnell's eyes with a glance that suggested that he was bored stiff-as-shit, though he was still seething enough to give his actual mood away. The blade seemed to divide Eddie's vision, almost as if to guide him as to where to slash to saw the jock clean in two.
"Not so bull-headed now, are you?" he began, his tone as icy cold as it normally was. The doorway was the only thing separating the two combatants from each other. If Darnell drew a gun, he could duck right back around the doorway and slash him if he tried to come out.
With nobody else coming down - or aiming down - the lunch line, Eddie turned himself so that he stepped into the doorway, sword in a very threatening ready stance. He could see Darnell had hedge clippers...though it had been a while since the announcement so he wouldn't know if he'd killed someone and taken their firearm as well. He looked into Darnell's eyes with a glance that suggested that he was bored stiff-as-shit, though he was still seething enough to give his actual mood away. The blade seemed to divide Eddie's vision, almost as if to guide him as to where to slash to saw the jock clean in two.
"Not so bull-headed now, are you?" he began, his tone as icy cold as it normally was. The doorway was the only thing separating the two combatants from each other. If Darnell drew a gun, he could duck right back around the doorway and slash him if he tried to come out.
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"'Bull-headed'? Is that supposed to be a pun, Eddie?"
Darnell was the type of person who, when caught off guard, tended to say the first thing that came to mind. Seeing as the last thing he had expected was Eduardo Trinidad-Villa to round the corner, weilding a blood stained two-handed Highland broadsword (commonly referred to as a Claymore) in a manner clearly intended as a threat and with a cold "I'm too bored to care whether you live or die" expression on his face, it was very safe to say Darnell was caught off guard. Really, Eduardo had probably meant something else by his statement, but Darnell couldn't help but wonder if it was a pun on his nickname ("The Bull"). Of course, Eduardo had never struck him as being very big on puns or humour in general. The only impression Darnell usually got from the boy was a pervasive, all-encompassing bitterness and hatred, especially of the popular students. Most of the time, the only real response Darnell got when he tried to get to know him was being coldly shrugged off. A bit ironic, he supposed, as he had always stood up for Eduardo on the rare occasions anyone actually bullied him (as far as Darnell knew, the boy wasn't tormented nearly as much or as badly as he claimed to be).
Regardless of how well he knew the boy, Darnell was not in a very good situation at the moment. According to the announcements, Eduardo had murdered Tanya Bonneville. Sure, it was possible to interpret Danya's words as meaning Tanya had attacked Eduardo, who was defending himself, but it was just as likely Eduardo was a cold blooded killer, playing to win. To make things worse, Eduardo was standing in the doorway that just happened to be the only way out of the kitchen, meaning Darnell was cornered. It was true that, while they were roughly the same size (Darnell was only "big" in terms of muscle mass and sheer strength; as far as height and weight went he was about average), Darnell was the stronger and more skilled man by far, and even with his inexperience with weapons would probably be able to easily defeat Ed if he tried anything, but he still didn't like the idea of being trapped by someone who was a proven killer.
This probably won't end well, but I've got to try to find a way around this. Preferably one that ends with both of us leaving alive.
Even in his most violent days, Darnell had always been good at talking his way out of a bad situation, and being cornered by a kid with a blood stained longsword was definitely a good example of a bad situation. He had to keep a cool head, though, if he wanted to make it out alive. So that's what he did; the slight grin didn't leave his face, and he didn't even tense up any more than he had. Indeed, he actually relaxed a bit, straightening up and loosening his grip on the hedgeclippers as he glanced quickly at the sword's blade.
"Well, either way...I guess I don't have to ask if you really killed Tanya, huh?"
The question would hang in the air for a few seconds, as Darnell would take no action until he had his answer. There wasn't any hostility in his voice, only a slight element of curiosity, as if the question were anything but rhetorical. His stance was loose, relaxed, while his eyes stayed fixed on Eduardo. While not staying too tense, he held his entire body ready to explode into action if Ed tried anything. He knew he could focus this way because Eduardo was blocking the only way in or out, making him the only potential threat in the area. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off of the other boy or lower his guard, as if he really was playing such a thing would be a fatal mistake.
And if there's one thing I'm not particularly big on at the moment, it's dyin'. I can't let myself kick the bucket yet, I've got to meet up with my friends.
Whatever Eduardo Trinidad-Villa did, Darnell knew he would be ready to react. He had promised to himself at the cottage not to let anyone get between him and his goal of finding his friends, and if Ed got in the way...well, Darnell hated to say it, but it was Ed's loss.
OOC: Sorry, I would've made this longer, but I ran out of ideas, and I figured you've waited long enough.
Darnell was the type of person who, when caught off guard, tended to say the first thing that came to mind. Seeing as the last thing he had expected was Eduardo Trinidad-Villa to round the corner, weilding a blood stained two-handed Highland broadsword (commonly referred to as a Claymore) in a manner clearly intended as a threat and with a cold "I'm too bored to care whether you live or die" expression on his face, it was very safe to say Darnell was caught off guard. Really, Eduardo had probably meant something else by his statement, but Darnell couldn't help but wonder if it was a pun on his nickname ("The Bull"). Of course, Eduardo had never struck him as being very big on puns or humour in general. The only impression Darnell usually got from the boy was a pervasive, all-encompassing bitterness and hatred, especially of the popular students. Most of the time, the only real response Darnell got when he tried to get to know him was being coldly shrugged off. A bit ironic, he supposed, as he had always stood up for Eduardo on the rare occasions anyone actually bullied him (as far as Darnell knew, the boy wasn't tormented nearly as much or as badly as he claimed to be).
Regardless of how well he knew the boy, Darnell was not in a very good situation at the moment. According to the announcements, Eduardo had murdered Tanya Bonneville. Sure, it was possible to interpret Danya's words as meaning Tanya had attacked Eduardo, who was defending himself, but it was just as likely Eduardo was a cold blooded killer, playing to win. To make things worse, Eduardo was standing in the doorway that just happened to be the only way out of the kitchen, meaning Darnell was cornered. It was true that, while they were roughly the same size (Darnell was only "big" in terms of muscle mass and sheer strength; as far as height and weight went he was about average), Darnell was the stronger and more skilled man by far, and even with his inexperience with weapons would probably be able to easily defeat Ed if he tried anything, but he still didn't like the idea of being trapped by someone who was a proven killer.
This probably won't end well, but I've got to try to find a way around this. Preferably one that ends with both of us leaving alive.
Even in his most violent days, Darnell had always been good at talking his way out of a bad situation, and being cornered by a kid with a blood stained longsword was definitely a good example of a bad situation. He had to keep a cool head, though, if he wanted to make it out alive. So that's what he did; the slight grin didn't leave his face, and he didn't even tense up any more than he had. Indeed, he actually relaxed a bit, straightening up and loosening his grip on the hedgeclippers as he glanced quickly at the sword's blade.
"Well, either way...I guess I don't have to ask if you really killed Tanya, huh?"
The question would hang in the air for a few seconds, as Darnell would take no action until he had his answer. There wasn't any hostility in his voice, only a slight element of curiosity, as if the question were anything but rhetorical. His stance was loose, relaxed, while his eyes stayed fixed on Eduardo. While not staying too tense, he held his entire body ready to explode into action if Ed tried anything. He knew he could focus this way because Eduardo was blocking the only way in or out, making him the only potential threat in the area. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off of the other boy or lower his guard, as if he really was playing such a thing would be a fatal mistake.
And if there's one thing I'm not particularly big on at the moment, it's dyin'. I can't let myself kick the bucket yet, I've got to meet up with my friends.
Whatever Eduardo Trinidad-Villa did, Darnell knew he would be ready to react. He had promised to himself at the cottage not to let anyone get between him and his goal of finding his friends, and if Ed got in the way...well, Darnell hated to say it, but it was Ed's loss.
OOC: Sorry, I would've made this longer, but I ran out of ideas, and I figured you've waited long enough.
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For most people, a cold shrugging off was probably the most merciful treatment that Eddie could give them, the most merciless being a rather acid-laced cursing out. Eddie could not actually recall any times when anybody had tried to stick up for him when he was being picked on by someone else beside Boxer (the memory of Clive mangling the colossus was still fairly fresh as well as what came after that). Then again, it wasn't as if 1, that tended to make a positive difference in the outcome and 2, that the people who supposedly stuck up for him weren't doing it for some self-aggrandizing ego trip. This went as much for jocks as it did with other kids. Such as Tanya Bonneville, whom he certainly didn't regret putting out of her misery.
"Yeah. I guess you could say that," Eddie replied, sounding like Tanya's death hadn't affected him one bit. He sighed as if bored, but it was really to ease some tension off of him, as too much would skew his aim at the technically larger piece of meat in front of him. Not that Darnell wasn't just a piece of meat like Tanya was. Eddie had personally watched Darnell fighting (hell, he'd bought a brand-new video game system and a sizable library off the wagers he'd made, though it was just collecting dust now...) and needed to keep himself at relative ease.
"Didn't think I'd graduate to super-hard from the easy levels either."
If there was one thing about Darnell that Eduardo was sure of, it was that he sure as hell wasn't going to be nearly as compassionate on the island as he was supposedly compassionate in school. Survival of the Fittest always brought out the true personae in people, and the only way Eduardo would be truly surprised was if - should he die - his death would be painless.
"So, are you going to charge at me? Or do I have to prod this jock a bit more?" Ed's traditional monotone was now laced with a bit of sarcasm, though his face was still as straight as a poker flush.
In another just-being-lit corner of the Mess Hall, something stirred. Something big.
"Yeah. I guess you could say that," Eddie replied, sounding like Tanya's death hadn't affected him one bit. He sighed as if bored, but it was really to ease some tension off of him, as too much would skew his aim at the technically larger piece of meat in front of him. Not that Darnell wasn't just a piece of meat like Tanya was. Eddie had personally watched Darnell fighting (hell, he'd bought a brand-new video game system and a sizable library off the wagers he'd made, though it was just collecting dust now...) and needed to keep himself at relative ease.
"Didn't think I'd graduate to super-hard from the easy levels either."
If there was one thing about Darnell that Eduardo was sure of, it was that he sure as hell wasn't going to be nearly as compassionate on the island as he was supposedly compassionate in school. Survival of the Fittest always brought out the true personae in people, and the only way Eduardo would be truly surprised was if - should he die - his death would be painless.
"So, are you going to charge at me? Or do I have to prod this jock a bit more?" Ed's traditional monotone was now laced with a bit of sarcasm, though his face was still as straight as a poker flush.
In another just-being-lit corner of the Mess Hall, something stirred. Something big.
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The first thing that shocked Darnell about Eduardo's reply was how the boy showed no remorse when he admitted he killed Tanya. Neither his voice nor his facial expression changed in the slightest, not even a blink. Indeed, Eduardo spoke about it as casually as he would about what he ate for breakfast that day. The only expression at all the boy made about it was a bored sounding sigh. A sigh! Darnell didn't know what was going through the kid's head, but it was deeply unsettling that he could be so...nonchalant about murdering someone he had gone to school with for the past four years.
He murders someone, presumably in cold blood, and the only thing he feels is boredom? What the fuck's wrong with him? And how did I miss it at school?
His subconscious briefly taking over, Darnell couldn't help but step back from the murderous student, his grip on his weapon tightening. But really, what good were hedgeclippers against a sword? Not much good at all, would be the logical answer. Swords were designed for one of two purposes; replicas, or to kill other human beings, and the sword in Eduardo's hand was definitely not a replica. In all honesty, a simple gardening tool just couldn't measure up.
There has to be a way out of this, though! I'm not going to die here!
Really, Eduardo's following comment about levels merely baffled Darnell, and the fact that Darnell replied by raising an eyebrow at Ed showed this plainly. However, Ed's next statement made it all too clear; Eduardo was trying to provoke him. He wanted Darnell to attack, maybe so he could try to murder him with a clean conscience. To his credit, he definitely seemed to know what buttons to press, as a stern look overtook Darnell's features while he tried to force down the stirrings of anger within him. It had been a while since anyone had directly threatened Darnell or tried to provoke him, and it was irritating to have such an experience again.
I'm not going to play his game, though. Maybe he can still be reasoned with.
"No," he said plainly, a sharp cutoff to Ed's question, "I'm not going to fight you, Eddie. Not if I have a choice. Don't you get it? I don't want to fight anyone! Man, you were always so smart back in school, don't you see that there's got to be a way out of this game other than killing? We get the right people together, we could be off this island in no time!"
If I can get him to see things my way, maybe this will end peacefully...
"But one thing's certain, Eduardo Trinidad-Villa: I'm not going to fight you. Don't try my patience, just put down the sword and walk away. We can both get out of this alive, if not on the same side."
He murders someone, presumably in cold blood, and the only thing he feels is boredom? What the fuck's wrong with him? And how did I miss it at school?
His subconscious briefly taking over, Darnell couldn't help but step back from the murderous student, his grip on his weapon tightening. But really, what good were hedgeclippers against a sword? Not much good at all, would be the logical answer. Swords were designed for one of two purposes; replicas, or to kill other human beings, and the sword in Eduardo's hand was definitely not a replica. In all honesty, a simple gardening tool just couldn't measure up.
There has to be a way out of this, though! I'm not going to die here!
Really, Eduardo's following comment about levels merely baffled Darnell, and the fact that Darnell replied by raising an eyebrow at Ed showed this plainly. However, Ed's next statement made it all too clear; Eduardo was trying to provoke him. He wanted Darnell to attack, maybe so he could try to murder him with a clean conscience. To his credit, he definitely seemed to know what buttons to press, as a stern look overtook Darnell's features while he tried to force down the stirrings of anger within him. It had been a while since anyone had directly threatened Darnell or tried to provoke him, and it was irritating to have such an experience again.
I'm not going to play his game, though. Maybe he can still be reasoned with.
"No," he said plainly, a sharp cutoff to Ed's question, "I'm not going to fight you, Eddie. Not if I have a choice. Don't you get it? I don't want to fight anyone! Man, you were always so smart back in school, don't you see that there's got to be a way out of this game other than killing? We get the right people together, we could be off this island in no time!"
If I can get him to see things my way, maybe this will end peacefully...
"But one thing's certain, Eduardo Trinidad-Villa: I'm not going to fight you. Don't try my patience, just put down the sword and walk away. We can both get out of this alive, if not on the same side."
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Of course Eddie didn't regret killing Tanya. He didn't regret liberating the TV screen of yet another future pseudo-prostitute pop star or American Idol. But at least she was easy to get rid of.
Darnell was, by all means, tough when it came to fighting. He was also someone tough to mess with, as well. But this time, Eddie could see that Darnell was not trying to act tough. He was trying to convince Eddie to drop his weapons, though the latter didn't buy it one bit...as much as it sounded like Darnell was begging for him to stop. Besides which, Eddie's psychological warfare seemed to be working, though he still wasn't sure when "the Bull" would charge at the proverbial waving cloth. Once in such a rage, Darnell's technique would predictably be hampered.
"If you don't want to fight me, that makes killing you easier," Eduardo replied as nonchalantly as ever, "I'm sure the NFL can find another jock to become their new star fullback."
It just wouldn't be right - nor strategically sound from Eddie's point of view anyway - for him to strike the first blow. If he could get Darnell pissed off enough, Darnell would strike first and in a rage. A rage that Eddie could take advantage of enough so he wouldn't get caught in Darnell's blows.
"As jock as you are though, you should be at least smart enough to know there's only one way out of this game," Eduardo replied, raising his sword behind one shoulder for a good swipe and narrowing his eyes at the target, "and I intend to take it."
Darnell was, by all means, tough when it came to fighting. He was also someone tough to mess with, as well. But this time, Eddie could see that Darnell was not trying to act tough. He was trying to convince Eddie to drop his weapons, though the latter didn't buy it one bit...as much as it sounded like Darnell was begging for him to stop. Besides which, Eddie's psychological warfare seemed to be working, though he still wasn't sure when "the Bull" would charge at the proverbial waving cloth. Once in such a rage, Darnell's technique would predictably be hampered.
"If you don't want to fight me, that makes killing you easier," Eduardo replied as nonchalantly as ever, "I'm sure the NFL can find another jock to become their new star fullback."
It just wouldn't be right - nor strategically sound from Eddie's point of view anyway - for him to strike the first blow. If he could get Darnell pissed off enough, Darnell would strike first and in a rage. A rage that Eddie could take advantage of enough so he wouldn't get caught in Darnell's blows.
"As jock as you are though, you should be at least smart enough to know there's only one way out of this game," Eduardo replied, raising his sword behind one shoulder for a good swipe and narrowing his eyes at the target, "and I intend to take it."
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"Fuck you, Eddie. You say you want to fucking kill me? Let's see you try! Or are you all talk? Some coward who only goes after the weak, people who won't fight back because it makes them feel big to hurt people who can't defend themselves? People like Tanya, who probably wouldn't have hurt a fly?! Come on, Eduardo, just try to kill me, if you've got what it takes!"
Darnell wasn't quite in one of the berserker rages he had been infamous for in his earlier years of middle school and high school, but Eddie's threat had snapped what patience he had left for the boy. It was even relatively safe to say that Darnell was angry. His words were definitely acidic enough that they could probably corrode the metal of the freezer door. Eddie had not only just insulted Darnell's lifelong dream and intelligence in the same breath, he had threatened Darnell's own life. There were no two ways to interpret Eduardo's statement; if Darnell didn't fight, Eduardo would kill him. It didn't help that, as the realization that Eduardo had murdered Tanya Bonneville in cold blood set in, he had already started to become angry, struggling subconsciously to keep his mind set on reasoning with the other man (was it still technically correct to refer to Eduardo as a boy? Darnell didn't really care).
He had always been protective of the school's female population, especially whatever girls he was close to, and when someone was going out of their way to harm a girl he always had a hard time keeping himself from intervening, as a few perverted Southridge students who had faced Darnell's angry retribution upon taking their sexual harassment too far while he was watching knew all too well. It wasn't that he was sexist or trying to shelter them or anything like that, it was just how he had been raised. He'd always been taught that women were to be respected and treated kindly, and that a man who intentionally harmed women was scum. A rapist, he had been taught by his father, was even worse than a murderer. Because of this, to hear that one of his classmates had outright murdered a girl was unspeakable to Darnell; it disgusted him almost beyond imagination.
The worst part was, Darnell had liked Tanya (though not in a romantic way, he was confused enough in that subject without two girls being in the equation). It was true that they were only casual acquaintances, but they had always gotten along well in school, and she'd always seemed easy to talk to. The thought of a kind, friendly girl like her dead, her life taken by someone like Eduardo, was hard to process. Still, that was exactly what had happened, and Darnell tensed up even more, his grip on the hedgeclippers tightening yet again as the familiar anger intruded on his mind. It was majorly overshadowed by Ed's threat on Darnell's life and obvious intent to try to carry out that threat, which temporarily clenched his stomach in fear and then converted it to white hot rage, but it was still a factor.
Bastard...and to think I had always tried to stand up for him in school. I had fought against some of my closest friends in order to protect him and people like him when they were bullied, and yet he turns out like this...how could I have been so blind?
The truth was, of course, that it was highly unlikely anyone saw Eduardo's sudden transformation into a remorseless killer (who even seemed to enjoy it, working off of his tone) coming, but Darnell couldn't help but kick himself a bit. He had always tried to be nice to Eduardo, regardless of whether or not his teammates wanted to bully the kid on a given day, and the recent events just seemed to spit in the face of anything he had done for him over the past four years. As his hard glare met Eduardo's emotionless eyes, he had to admit he felt a little betrayed. He had put so much trust in the other students, believed so strongly that none of them would play the game, and now he was trapped by a man he had always tried to help, who intended to murder him as if he were nothing.
I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen, though.
Darnell wasn't quite in one of the berserker rages he had been infamous for in his earlier years of middle school and high school, but Eddie's threat had snapped what patience he had left for the boy. It was even relatively safe to say that Darnell was angry. His words were definitely acidic enough that they could probably corrode the metal of the freezer door. Eddie had not only just insulted Darnell's lifelong dream and intelligence in the same breath, he had threatened Darnell's own life. There were no two ways to interpret Eduardo's statement; if Darnell didn't fight, Eduardo would kill him. It didn't help that, as the realization that Eduardo had murdered Tanya Bonneville in cold blood set in, he had already started to become angry, struggling subconsciously to keep his mind set on reasoning with the other man (was it still technically correct to refer to Eduardo as a boy? Darnell didn't really care).
He had always been protective of the school's female population, especially whatever girls he was close to, and when someone was going out of their way to harm a girl he always had a hard time keeping himself from intervening, as a few perverted Southridge students who had faced Darnell's angry retribution upon taking their sexual harassment too far while he was watching knew all too well. It wasn't that he was sexist or trying to shelter them or anything like that, it was just how he had been raised. He'd always been taught that women were to be respected and treated kindly, and that a man who intentionally harmed women was scum. A rapist, he had been taught by his father, was even worse than a murderer. Because of this, to hear that one of his classmates had outright murdered a girl was unspeakable to Darnell; it disgusted him almost beyond imagination.
The worst part was, Darnell had liked Tanya (though not in a romantic way, he was confused enough in that subject without two girls being in the equation). It was true that they were only casual acquaintances, but they had always gotten along well in school, and she'd always seemed easy to talk to. The thought of a kind, friendly girl like her dead, her life taken by someone like Eduardo, was hard to process. Still, that was exactly what had happened, and Darnell tensed up even more, his grip on the hedgeclippers tightening yet again as the familiar anger intruded on his mind. It was majorly overshadowed by Ed's threat on Darnell's life and obvious intent to try to carry out that threat, which temporarily clenched his stomach in fear and then converted it to white hot rage, but it was still a factor.
Bastard...and to think I had always tried to stand up for him in school. I had fought against some of my closest friends in order to protect him and people like him when they were bullied, and yet he turns out like this...how could I have been so blind?
The truth was, of course, that it was highly unlikely anyone saw Eduardo's sudden transformation into a remorseless killer (who even seemed to enjoy it, working off of his tone) coming, but Darnell couldn't help but kick himself a bit. He had always tried to be nice to Eduardo, regardless of whether or not his teammates wanted to bully the kid on a given day, and the recent events just seemed to spit in the face of anything he had done for him over the past four years. As his hard glare met Eduardo's emotionless eyes, he had to admit he felt a little betrayed. He had put so much trust in the other students, believed so strongly that none of them would play the game, and now he was trapped by a man he had always tried to help, who intended to murder him as if he were nothing.
I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen, though.
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"Cowards who prey on the weak so they can feel big?" Eddie scowled sarcastically, before taking another frustrated sigh.
"Isn't that what people like you did? People like you, who got showered with scholarships and prizes for butting heads and carrying a ball across a line faster than the other guy while those that were weak were reduced to perhaps materially-satisfied yet dignity-free lives of making the stupid richer?" The aggravation hidden in Eddie's life had begun to manifest itself as his angry monologue continued, and by the end he sounded as frustrated as he would if he'd gotten an F on a project so thoroughly researched that his teacher simply brushed it off as copying.
Eduardo had - in fact - seen the entire school population as problematic, with exceptions often forced into the rule through semantic sleight-of-hand. He did reserve sympathy for the nerds, particularly those like Troy McCann, whom he believed forced themselves to become popular in some mostly-vain attempt to escape their future obscurity. Not that he hadn't held disdain for them for not accepting their fate. His parents, "good" people as they were, had also tried to teach him good Christian values. Values he'd grown disillusioned with - as much as he was with the so-called evangelistic atheism - while he had been in juvie. Good and evil were now subjective concepts on an island where the only way to escape was to kill everyone else. His parents' reaction be damned.
That a kid like Eduardo would turn out to be such a person when given the chance should not have been surprising - at least Eduardo believed - given the histories of known school shooters and suicides. Here he was given the power he wanted, but as the comic books had also appropriately added, great responsibility. Thus, unlike other maniacs (like that weirdo Gabe Theobaldt), he knew this wasn't something to go out of control with. Power here was something to tame and utilize against others, a lot like a guard dog.
Were Eduardo enjoying what he were doing, he would have been smiling sheepishly. That said, he wasn't smiling. In fact, he quite regarded killing Tanya as something that was simply "to be done," a joyless task akin to brushing one's teeth in the morning. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't done for a specific purpose, as all tasks had to be done. He only wished he'd known more about what he was supposed to accomplish, apart from avenging nerds everywhere - an unintended consequence.
"But I don't expect a jock like you to understand. You want a fight, chombo, you'll get one. Have at thee!" he finally shouted, before bringing the sword back in front of him and charging forward. He raised the sword above his shoulder as he got closer, getting ready for a good diagonal slice. If the sword was as strong as he believed it was, he'd actually planned to get it caught in Darnell's hedge-clippers and use his legs to deliver a good blow to the jock's gut while both hands were busy. The effect he'd get from using his native tongue's equivalent of the N-word was a bonus.
"Isn't that what people like you did? People like you, who got showered with scholarships and prizes for butting heads and carrying a ball across a line faster than the other guy while those that were weak were reduced to perhaps materially-satisfied yet dignity-free lives of making the stupid richer?" The aggravation hidden in Eddie's life had begun to manifest itself as his angry monologue continued, and by the end he sounded as frustrated as he would if he'd gotten an F on a project so thoroughly researched that his teacher simply brushed it off as copying.
Eduardo had - in fact - seen the entire school population as problematic, with exceptions often forced into the rule through semantic sleight-of-hand. He did reserve sympathy for the nerds, particularly those like Troy McCann, whom he believed forced themselves to become popular in some mostly-vain attempt to escape their future obscurity. Not that he hadn't held disdain for them for not accepting their fate. His parents, "good" people as they were, had also tried to teach him good Christian values. Values he'd grown disillusioned with - as much as he was with the so-called evangelistic atheism - while he had been in juvie. Good and evil were now subjective concepts on an island where the only way to escape was to kill everyone else. His parents' reaction be damned.
That a kid like Eduardo would turn out to be such a person when given the chance should not have been surprising - at least Eduardo believed - given the histories of known school shooters and suicides. Here he was given the power he wanted, but as the comic books had also appropriately added, great responsibility. Thus, unlike other maniacs (like that weirdo Gabe Theobaldt), he knew this wasn't something to go out of control with. Power here was something to tame and utilize against others, a lot like a guard dog.
Were Eduardo enjoying what he were doing, he would have been smiling sheepishly. That said, he wasn't smiling. In fact, he quite regarded killing Tanya as something that was simply "to be done," a joyless task akin to brushing one's teeth in the morning. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't done for a specific purpose, as all tasks had to be done. He only wished he'd known more about what he was supposed to accomplish, apart from avenging nerds everywhere - an unintended consequence.
"But I don't expect a jock like you to understand. You want a fight, chombo, you'll get one. Have at thee!" he finally shouted, before bringing the sword back in front of him and charging forward. He raised the sword above his shoulder as he got closer, getting ready for a good diagonal slice. If the sword was as strong as he believed it was, he'd actually planned to get it caught in Darnell's hedge-clippers and use his legs to deliver a good blow to the jock's gut while both hands were busy. The effect he'd get from using his native tongue's equivalent of the N-word was a bonus.
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Eduardo...
Darnell had to admit that, in his current state of mind, he got a little satisfaction out of Eduardo's obvious anger, but he wouldn't have time to reflect on that. Eduardo summed up his rant with another insult, claiming that the only way out of the game was to play and that he didn't expect a jock to understand (the implication being that Darnell was too stupid to understand) before accepting his challenge and runnung forward. Eduardo's use of the Spanish word for "nigger" went ignored by Darnell, who had already primed himself for a fight and thus blocked out such attempts to rile him up.
I will win this fight, Eduardo!
It was clear to Darnell that the only way he would leave the building alive was if he fought and defeated Eduardo here and now. Knowing he didn't have a choice, he had held himself ready for Eduardo's charge, knowing that even with his reach advantage he'd have to move forward to have a hope of hitting Darnell with his sword. He didn't have much experience with weapons, part of the reason why the hedgeclippers felt so awkward in his hands, but he also figured that the way Eddie held his sword meant it was likely he'd bring it down diagonally, as it would be quicker that way. Typically Darnell tried not to assume anything about anyone, especially in fights, as he had learned it was very risky to do so, but this time the assumption paid off, as Eduardo started to bring his sword down in a diagonal arc.
Hope this works...
Darnell's reaction was one he hoped Eduardo would not expect. Instead of trying to dodge by stepping back, he rushed forward as the blade started to fall. Raising his hedgeclippers to meet the falling weapon, he closed the blades around the middle of the sword blade, intentionally trapping the weapon with his own, and then sharply pulled upwards and then around in a slightly arcing motion to his right, his left knee quickly shooting upwards towards Eduardo's groin as he tried to pull the weapon down and backwards. His hope with the sudden groin shot was that the hit would stun Eduardo, causing him enough pain to force him to involuntarily let go of the sword, allowing him to literally yank it out of his hands.
I don't care what you say about me, Eduardo, I always fight to win.
OOC: Short, sorry, trying to make up for lost time since we officially have less than a week to get this done.
Darnell had to admit that, in his current state of mind, he got a little satisfaction out of Eduardo's obvious anger, but he wouldn't have time to reflect on that. Eduardo summed up his rant with another insult, claiming that the only way out of the game was to play and that he didn't expect a jock to understand (the implication being that Darnell was too stupid to understand) before accepting his challenge and runnung forward. Eduardo's use of the Spanish word for "nigger" went ignored by Darnell, who had already primed himself for a fight and thus blocked out such attempts to rile him up.
I will win this fight, Eduardo!
It was clear to Darnell that the only way he would leave the building alive was if he fought and defeated Eduardo here and now. Knowing he didn't have a choice, he had held himself ready for Eduardo's charge, knowing that even with his reach advantage he'd have to move forward to have a hope of hitting Darnell with his sword. He didn't have much experience with weapons, part of the reason why the hedgeclippers felt so awkward in his hands, but he also figured that the way Eddie held his sword meant it was likely he'd bring it down diagonally, as it would be quicker that way. Typically Darnell tried not to assume anything about anyone, especially in fights, as he had learned it was very risky to do so, but this time the assumption paid off, as Eduardo started to bring his sword down in a diagonal arc.
Hope this works...
Darnell's reaction was one he hoped Eduardo would not expect. Instead of trying to dodge by stepping back, he rushed forward as the blade started to fall. Raising his hedgeclippers to meet the falling weapon, he closed the blades around the middle of the sword blade, intentionally trapping the weapon with his own, and then sharply pulled upwards and then around in a slightly arcing motion to his right, his left knee quickly shooting upwards towards Eduardo's groin as he tried to pull the weapon down and backwards. His hope with the sudden groin shot was that the hit would stun Eduardo, causing him enough pain to force him to involuntarily let go of the sword, allowing him to literally yank it out of his hands.
I don't care what you say about me, Eduardo, I always fight to win.
OOC: Short, sorry, trying to make up for lost time since we officially have less than a week to get this done.
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Eduardo gave a serious smirk as the sword's blade wedged itself between the hedgeclipper's blades as he'd hoped. Bueno! Now all that was left to do was jam his foot into Darnell's gut or - at least due to Eduardo's relative height - Darnell's crotch. As long as it knocked the wind out of the jock, any impact would suffice. For a split second after Darnell lifted the hedge clippers up, Eduardo actually thought he was actually jumping for a higher impact point. At least until Darnell's counter made him realize that it wasn't Eduardo's efforts getting the lighter boy off the ground.
Darnell's knee didn't connect with Eduardo's groin, rather it instead connected with Eddie's left leg as it was about to strike a blow of its own. Eduardo felt his leg suddenly twist further up (rather than forward) than he'd expected as the knee connected somewhere under his shin, causing him to scream in enough pain for him to let go of the sword and tumble down to the ground. Being of a relatively (read severely) light build as compared to Darnell, Eduardo actually spun in the air a bit before he landed, thus softening his fall somewhat.
"Fucking...jock..." he hissed, clutching his shin and scrambling and squirming toward a nearby countertop where he could prop himself up. The sharp instruments had long since been confiscated from that table, but a few pots and pans remained, their steel showing few signs of rust after so long. If only he could make it...
Darnell's knee didn't connect with Eduardo's groin, rather it instead connected with Eddie's left leg as it was about to strike a blow of its own. Eduardo felt his leg suddenly twist further up (rather than forward) than he'd expected as the knee connected somewhere under his shin, causing him to scream in enough pain for him to let go of the sword and tumble down to the ground. Being of a relatively (read severely) light build as compared to Darnell, Eduardo actually spun in the air a bit before he landed, thus softening his fall somewhat.
"Fucking...jock..." he hissed, clutching his shin and scrambling and squirming toward a nearby countertop where he could prop himself up. The sharp instruments had long since been confiscated from that table, but a few pots and pans remained, their steel showing few signs of rust after so long. If only he could make it...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
OOC: We'll have to wrap this up more or less now, so I'm PMing you my suggestions as to changing our plan for the sake of time. This post will be rushed, sorry. Especially for the abrupt ending.
IC:
Darnell hadn't expected Eduardo to make an attempt at a kick at the same time as he did, so he had been a bit surprised when their legs clashed knee-to-shin as they did, but his move seemed to work just as well. As Darnell snapped his leg back from the kick to recover his balance he heard Eduardo scream in pain as he fell back, tumbling to the ground after he released the sword. Ignoring the unexpected nature of this event, Darnell quickly opened the blades of the hedgeclippers, allowing the sword to clatter to the ground as he threw the clippers to the side and bent over to pick the sword up, trying to act before Eduardo got his bearings back.
I can't believe that worked.
Really, it had been a miracle that Darnell had timed his reaction correctly; if he had been off even by a microsecond, he would have been hit by Eduardo's attack, and probably would have been at the boy's mercy. Intercepting Eduardo's kick as he did had also been a stroke of luck on his part, and he couldn't help but wonder for a second how things would be at the moment if he had been just a bit slower. Of course, every fight had some element of risk to it, and as he wrapped his hands around the hilt of the fallen claymore and picked it up he noted that as long as Eduardo was still a threat he didn't have time to worry about it. Every second he spent worrying was a second Eduardo could start attacking again.
The dim light in the kitchen glinted off of the sword's blade again as he looked up at Eduardo, who seemed to be squirming his way to a nearby countertop, Darnell more or less directly behind him as he tried to crawl to it, his hands clutching his shin. To be honest it looked a bit ridiculous. Still, he couldn't let Eduardo bounce back so quickly, he didn't know what other tricks the boy might have up his sleeves. There wasn't much distance between them, but Darnell adopted a quick, almost dashing gait when he pursued the boy just to make sure he got to Eduardo before Eduardo got to the countertop.
If he made it in time, the next thing Eduardo would feel after his "fucking jock" comment would be the immense pressure of his own sword being pressed down on the back of his neck. If Eduardo had somehow made it to the countertop and pulled himself up before Darnell had gotten to him, Darnell would simply thrust the sword up to his neck.
"Don't move."
That was all Darnell said, but the ice cold tone with which he said it and the fact that he would push down a little harder on the sword after saying it would make the threat on his lips implicit. Through the adrenaline rush of a fight where someone was trying to kill him, his mind hadn't quite yet caught up with his body, which was probably the only reason he wasn't freaking out about holding a sword on one of his classmates, ready to end their life if he had to.
IC:
Darnell hadn't expected Eduardo to make an attempt at a kick at the same time as he did, so he had been a bit surprised when their legs clashed knee-to-shin as they did, but his move seemed to work just as well. As Darnell snapped his leg back from the kick to recover his balance he heard Eduardo scream in pain as he fell back, tumbling to the ground after he released the sword. Ignoring the unexpected nature of this event, Darnell quickly opened the blades of the hedgeclippers, allowing the sword to clatter to the ground as he threw the clippers to the side and bent over to pick the sword up, trying to act before Eduardo got his bearings back.
I can't believe that worked.
Really, it had been a miracle that Darnell had timed his reaction correctly; if he had been off even by a microsecond, he would have been hit by Eduardo's attack, and probably would have been at the boy's mercy. Intercepting Eduardo's kick as he did had also been a stroke of luck on his part, and he couldn't help but wonder for a second how things would be at the moment if he had been just a bit slower. Of course, every fight had some element of risk to it, and as he wrapped his hands around the hilt of the fallen claymore and picked it up he noted that as long as Eduardo was still a threat he didn't have time to worry about it. Every second he spent worrying was a second Eduardo could start attacking again.
The dim light in the kitchen glinted off of the sword's blade again as he looked up at Eduardo, who seemed to be squirming his way to a nearby countertop, Darnell more or less directly behind him as he tried to crawl to it, his hands clutching his shin. To be honest it looked a bit ridiculous. Still, he couldn't let Eduardo bounce back so quickly, he didn't know what other tricks the boy might have up his sleeves. There wasn't much distance between them, but Darnell adopted a quick, almost dashing gait when he pursued the boy just to make sure he got to Eduardo before Eduardo got to the countertop.
If he made it in time, the next thing Eduardo would feel after his "fucking jock" comment would be the immense pressure of his own sword being pressed down on the back of his neck. If Eduardo had somehow made it to the countertop and pulled himself up before Darnell had gotten to him, Darnell would simply thrust the sword up to his neck.
"Don't move."
That was all Darnell said, but the ice cold tone with which he said it and the fact that he would push down a little harder on the sword after saying it would make the threat on his lips implicit. Through the adrenaline rush of a fight where someone was trying to kill him, his mind hadn't quite yet caught up with his body, which was probably the only reason he wasn't freaking out about holding a sword on one of his classmates, ready to end their life if he had to.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Eduardo scrambled for the nearby counter, hoping to prop himself back to his feet. He got to his knees, reached up and started to pull himself up. But just as he'd gotten his head above the counter top, he'd felt the cold, icy, sharp tip of something press against his neck. He didn't know it was actually his sword despite the clanking he'd heard earlier, but it was still a sharp object all the same, and if he moved, he was going to die. A wave of frustration overcame Eduardo, and he let out what he was certain was his final deliberate sigh. He was going to die and that was "fucking it," as his hallucinatory friend had put it.
"Fuck..." Eduardo whimpered as the tip of the sword pressed down on his neck a little harder, causing him to seethe. "If you're gonna kill me, do it now," he added in a miserable mutter. But he'd had barely started to say "...before I make you regret it" when he heard someone else.
"Darnell!? Eduardo!? What the-" came a bellow from the kitchen doorway.
Blocking said entrance, having to bow forward a bit because of his height, was none other than Boxer Carvalho. The leviathan linebacker had awoken to the sound of the commotion inside (though the first thing his eyes had recognized was Eduardo moving toward the lunch counter earlier). His hair and outfit - a severely-plus-size jogging suit that just fit him - was messed up, and he was a bit loopy in the knees from having slept so long, but his was a rather dominating presence nonetheless. He also appeared to be holding a light shield of sorts, which clacked against the doorway as one of his arms swung about from fatigue.
"What the hell is going on in here!?"
Eduardo would have turned to look had he not been locked in place with a sword ready to sever his head from his spinal column. But he did force out a "Boxer...help..." that probably would not have been heard by the colossus anyway.
"Fuck..." Eduardo whimpered as the tip of the sword pressed down on his neck a little harder, causing him to seethe. "If you're gonna kill me, do it now," he added in a miserable mutter. But he'd had barely started to say "...before I make you regret it" when he heard someone else.
"Darnell!? Eduardo!? What the-" came a bellow from the kitchen doorway.
Blocking said entrance, having to bow forward a bit because of his height, was none other than Boxer Carvalho. The leviathan linebacker had awoken to the sound of the commotion inside (though the first thing his eyes had recognized was Eduardo moving toward the lunch counter earlier). His hair and outfit - a severely-plus-size jogging suit that just fit him - was messed up, and he was a bit loopy in the knees from having slept so long, but his was a rather dominating presence nonetheless. He also appeared to be holding a light shield of sorts, which clacked against the doorway as one of his arms swung about from fatigue.
"What the hell is going on in here!?"
Eduardo would have turned to look had he not been locked in place with a sword ready to sever his head from his spinal column. But he did force out a "Boxer...help..." that probably would not have been heard by the colossus anyway.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.