(I just typed three pages of stuff, and I've got another big ass post to get done so... yeah, this isn't going to be so long. Also, this is private between me, Crash, Cyco and choic for the time being, since it really has to get done.)
(Nutbrown continued from 3's and 7's)
Nutbrown made his way onto the hill overlooking a swinging bridge, closing his eyes in deep thought. He hated this. He hated everything about this game, his life, everything. Nothing he should kill himself over, but enough there to make him very down and pissy. He rubbed at his temples something awful and growled loudly. Why did his head hurt so much? Damn it, he needed an Advil so badly it was killing him. Bah....
It Hurts
it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts
It Hurts
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(Trish McCarroll continued from Cause and Effect. GMing of James approved by Cyco.)
"Trish...?"
"Yeah?"
"Danni's not here."
"...What?"
The three...rather, two of them had been walking away from the mess hall for a while now, silently trudging through the wet ground to some unknown destination, solely for the purpose of going somewhere. Moving meant that they were still alive, and being alive meant that they hadn't lost. It helped take Trish's mind off the fact that mere hours from now she could be lying face down in one of the puddles she aimlessly sloshed through, lifeless...
The distraction came with its disadvantages of course, namely that she'd completely forgotten about Danni, who seemed to have lagged behind so much that neither her nor James could catch a glimpse of her. Now, her worry was that Danni could be the one with her face buried in a puddle somewhere.
"I'm gonna hang back for a minute," James offered somewhat uncharacteristically, but Trish had no objection. It was for the best.
"'Kay, I'll check things out."
As she broke away from James and the foliage behind her, Trish found herself staring at a rickety wooden bridge that creaked eerily in the night. It was completely dark outside and probably...or hopefully close to morning by now, which combined with the spooky echo of the bridge created a disturbing ambiance. Trish clutched the AK-47 tighter in her hands, stepping slowly around the area and tracing it with the gun to get a feel for the place. She couldn't see very well in the dark, but she couldn't hear anything. This place smelled as much like death as everywhere else, and silently she hoped she didn't trip on some poor person's corpse. It looked pretty clear...
There was no way she was going over that bridge, though. No way in hell.
"Trish...?"
"Yeah?"
"Danni's not here."
"...What?"
The three...rather, two of them had been walking away from the mess hall for a while now, silently trudging through the wet ground to some unknown destination, solely for the purpose of going somewhere. Moving meant that they were still alive, and being alive meant that they hadn't lost. It helped take Trish's mind off the fact that mere hours from now she could be lying face down in one of the puddles she aimlessly sloshed through, lifeless...
The distraction came with its disadvantages of course, namely that she'd completely forgotten about Danni, who seemed to have lagged behind so much that neither her nor James could catch a glimpse of her. Now, her worry was that Danni could be the one with her face buried in a puddle somewhere.
"I'm gonna hang back for a minute," James offered somewhat uncharacteristically, but Trish had no objection. It was for the best.
"'Kay, I'll check things out."
As she broke away from James and the foliage behind her, Trish found herself staring at a rickety wooden bridge that creaked eerily in the night. It was completely dark outside and probably...or hopefully close to morning by now, which combined with the spooky echo of the bridge created a disturbing ambiance. Trish clutched the AK-47 tighter in her hands, stepping slowly around the area and tracing it with the gun to get a feel for the place. She couldn't see very well in the dark, but she couldn't hear anything. This place smelled as much like death as everywhere else, and silently she hoped she didn't trip on some poor person's corpse. It looked pretty clear...
There was no way she was going over that bridge, though. No way in hell.
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(Ah yes, we have to kill someone don't we? Well, don't mind me.)
Hmm... it appeared that the girl over yonder had a much 'larger' gun than he did. That was mighty pathetic from Nutbrown's side, but since he always had a mean spirited hatred for girls like that he grimaced.
"My chances of killing this bitch are slim to none, but I'm going to forget every shred of common sense I have right now because the happy smiling leprechauns in my head are telling me to do it... yeah right."
The real problem was when he began to turn away. Most likely he didn't see that there was a hole in the ground because when he stepped in it, his nerves came over him and his trigger finger fired into the air. For whatever reason Nutbrown didn't think of the reaction the girl over yonder would take to this display. Most likely she would be scared but she wouldn't think that he was trying to kill her...
... right?
Hmm... it appeared that the girl over yonder had a much 'larger' gun than he did. That was mighty pathetic from Nutbrown's side, but since he always had a mean spirited hatred for girls like that he grimaced.
"My chances of killing this bitch are slim to none, but I'm going to forget every shred of common sense I have right now because the happy smiling leprechauns in my head are telling me to do it... yeah right."
The real problem was when he began to turn away. Most likely he didn't see that there was a hole in the ground because when he stepped in it, his nerves came over him and his trigger finger fired into the air. For whatever reason Nutbrown didn't think of the reaction the girl over yonder would take to this display. Most likely she would be scared but she wouldn't think that he was trying to kill her...
... right?
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Trish jumped at the sound of the gun firing, steady hands becoming somewhat more shaky as she traced her field of vision around the surrounding area. There was no way for her to tell which direction the shot came from, other than the fact that it was close...much too close for comfort. She hated not being in control of things, and this was most certainly one of those moments. James was probably well out of earshot now, too, so instead of screaming aimlessly she decided to buck up and try to sort things out.
"Whoever's there, you better come the fuck out right now!"
"Whoever's there, you better come the fuck out right now!"
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"Whoever's there, you better come the fuck out right now!"
Oh. He had an asshole on his hands. Nutbrown didn't like picking fights, they were just made shit worse but for whatever reason what Trish said made him very angry. It took alot to make Nutbrown mad but now he had a bad pain in his back. He was tired, just trying to wade death away for just a bit longer... he didn't have to take shit from anyone, especially some rugeating tramp who swings guns around like she's going to mark someone's ass up.
"Fuck you and common sense, I'm going to kill this bitch dead."
Nutbrown got back unto his feet and fired three rounds at Trish, hoping they hit.
Oh. He had an asshole on his hands. Nutbrown didn't like picking fights, they were just made shit worse but for whatever reason what Trish said made him very angry. It took alot to make Nutbrown mad but now he had a bad pain in his back. He was tired, just trying to wade death away for just a bit longer... he didn't have to take shit from anyone, especially some rugeating tramp who swings guns around like she's going to mark someone's ass up.
"Fuck you and common sense, I'm going to kill this bitch dead."
Nutbrown got back unto his feet and fired three rounds at Trish, hoping they hit.
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Trish stared around silently for a few moments after her ultimatum had been delivered, eyes frantically scanning the area in some vain attempt to locate the source of the shot. Her breath caught in her throat as she whirled around, her search growing gradually more desperate as the seconds passed. Everything was moving way too fast, and despite her normal sense of rationality she found herself blinded by fear, silently hoping that whoever it was had heard her and backed off...
*BANG*
Those hopes were dashed as quickly as they'd come, and almost instantly after she heard the sound of another explosion she felt one of the bullets rip through the back of her leg. It caught her in the upper thigh, and while the awkward trajectory had most likely been what saved her from damaging the important bones and arteries there, the pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt before.
Trish fell to the ground, unable to keep herself up at this point. The AK clattered to the dirt beside her as she fell down face first, her head hitting the barren earth harshly. She cursed and moaned, only vaguely aware of what had just happened as she opened her eyes to show the dense jungle in front of her, and more importantly, felt the soft earth beneath her torso. She blinked harshly a few times, hoping that wherever she'd been hit by the pesky bullet hadn't officially ended her chances of winning the game.
Seeing the AK a few feet to her right, Trish braced herself and attempted to drag herself closer to it, but the searing pain in her leg both prevented her from reaching it and disclosed exactly where she'd been hit. It was incredibly painful to move, and since she still didn't have her wits about her (most likely owing to the hard hit to the head she'd suffered as she fell) all she could bring herself to do was lie still in the dirt.
The thought occurred to her that whoever shot her could come back at any moment to finish the job or collect their reward, and since she was unable to reach her gun she didn't know how she'd go about defending herself. More feeble than she'd ever felt in her life, Trish opted to lie as still as she could in the dirt and quiet her breathing down, hoping that if the assailant did come back (s)he'd leave her alone.
*BANG*
Those hopes were dashed as quickly as they'd come, and almost instantly after she heard the sound of another explosion she felt one of the bullets rip through the back of her leg. It caught her in the upper thigh, and while the awkward trajectory had most likely been what saved her from damaging the important bones and arteries there, the pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt before.
Trish fell to the ground, unable to keep herself up at this point. The AK clattered to the dirt beside her as she fell down face first, her head hitting the barren earth harshly. She cursed and moaned, only vaguely aware of what had just happened as she opened her eyes to show the dense jungle in front of her, and more importantly, felt the soft earth beneath her torso. She blinked harshly a few times, hoping that wherever she'd been hit by the pesky bullet hadn't officially ended her chances of winning the game.
Seeing the AK a few feet to her right, Trish braced herself and attempted to drag herself closer to it, but the searing pain in her leg both prevented her from reaching it and disclosed exactly where she'd been hit. It was incredibly painful to move, and since she still didn't have her wits about her (most likely owing to the hard hit to the head she'd suffered as she fell) all she could bring herself to do was lie still in the dirt.
The thought occurred to her that whoever shot her could come back at any moment to finish the job or collect their reward, and since she was unable to reach her gun she didn't know how she'd go about defending herself. More feeble than she'd ever felt in her life, Trish opted to lie as still as she could in the dirt and quiet her breathing down, hoping that if the assailant did come back (s)he'd leave her alone.
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(Bah. I can't believe I forgot about this. )
"... Oh shit."
Did he really just do that? Did he REALLY just DO that? DID he REALLY JUST DO that? Nutbrown felt ashaimed. He should have thought this through, he shouldn't have shot at her. Jesus christ this was horrible. Nutbrown acted like he was tough, but this was just pushing it. He killed someone! Oh no... damn it! He had to see if she was alright. He had to make sure. He had to.
He rushed down the hill at full speed, nearly tripping on a pothole in the ground. "Oh jesus christ..." He finally reached the body, biting his lip harshly. "Hmph.... she isn't dead..."
"... Oh shit."
Did he really just do that? Did he REALLY just DO that? DID he REALLY JUST DO that? Nutbrown felt ashaimed. He should have thought this through, he shouldn't have shot at her. Jesus christ this was horrible. Nutbrown acted like he was tough, but this was just pushing it. He killed someone! Oh no... damn it! He had to see if she was alright. He had to make sure. He had to.
He rushed down the hill at full speed, nearly tripping on a pothole in the ground. "Oh jesus christ..." He finally reached the body, biting his lip harshly. "Hmph.... she isn't dead..."
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It seemed like hours to Trish as she lay helpless on the ground, her breathing and heartrate racing and refusing to slow down. The pain coursing through her leg (and now seemingly her entire body) was overwhelming; being shot was definitely an experience she hoped she'd never have to endure again. Her breath came in quick gasps, part of her wondering if the bullet had done any real damage...but for now at least it seemed as if the intense throbbing of her quadriceps was all she really had to worry about.
Trish glanced backwards quickly and saw nobody, so as fast as she could muster she undid the tied strand of the bullwhip from her belt and let it fall loosely into her right hand before resuming her fake dead position on the ground. Whoever attacked her had a gun, so if he did get close to her and hesitate to blow her brains out, she figured she had a chance if she could manage to disarm him. The thoughts raced through her head quicker than she could process them, but at the moment she had to maintain some sense of rationality, and even her frantic and panicked mind could register that.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Trish stiffened as she heard soft footsteps making their way through the rain-soaked ground towards her. Whether she froze in fear or in preparation for the counter-attack she was about to make was lost on her...all she focused on was the increasingly louder thuds of shoes against the ground as they closed the distance. Her eyes were slammed shut, hoping to God that whoever it was didn't notice that she...
"Hmph...she isn't dead..."
NOW!
"AUUUUGH!" Trish screamed in a mix of pain and rage as she rolled over, lashing out with the bullwhip towards the boy she now recognized as Nicholas Nutbrown's forearm. Hoping she caught him off guard and disarmed him, she swung the whip back towards him a second time as fast as she could muster, hoping the attack would startle him just long enough for her to grab the AK again and finish the job.
Trish glanced backwards quickly and saw nobody, so as fast as she could muster she undid the tied strand of the bullwhip from her belt and let it fall loosely into her right hand before resuming her fake dead position on the ground. Whoever attacked her had a gun, so if he did get close to her and hesitate to blow her brains out, she figured she had a chance if she could manage to disarm him. The thoughts raced through her head quicker than she could process them, but at the moment she had to maintain some sense of rationality, and even her frantic and panicked mind could register that.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Trish stiffened as she heard soft footsteps making their way through the rain-soaked ground towards her. Whether she froze in fear or in preparation for the counter-attack she was about to make was lost on her...all she focused on was the increasingly louder thuds of shoes against the ground as they closed the distance. Her eyes were slammed shut, hoping to God that whoever it was didn't notice that she...
"Hmph...she isn't dead..."
NOW!
"AUUUUGH!" Trish screamed in a mix of pain and rage as she rolled over, lashing out with the bullwhip towards the boy she now recognized as Nicholas Nutbrown's forearm. Hoping she caught him off guard and disarmed him, she swung the whip back towards him a second time as fast as she could muster, hoping the attack would startle him just long enough for her to grab the AK again and finish the job.
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(Slight godmod here, Aaron requested it. XD)
A fucking bull whip? Where the fuck did this girl get that? Jesus Christ, she looked like she was dead right there. Nutbrown was too busy being relieved to notice that Trish bull whipped him. In the head. Which is probably even worse than just surprising him. That pissed Nutbrown off, very badly. So badly. He was going to help her up, he was generally remorseful but not now. This bitch was gonna get her ass kicked.
"Okay, that's it. Nobody does that and gets away with it."
Nutbrown's hand caught the bullwhip midair (or more likely the whip hit his hand and he just happened to stop it, he had no time to make sure) and in between a loud yell of pain, he threw the bullwhip away and pounced on top of Trish. He couldn't really think or do anything else at this point. He threw a punch at Trish's jaw, the whole weight of his body holding her down to the ground.
A fucking bull whip? Where the fuck did this girl get that? Jesus Christ, she looked like she was dead right there. Nutbrown was too busy being relieved to notice that Trish bull whipped him. In the head. Which is probably even worse than just surprising him. That pissed Nutbrown off, very badly. So badly. He was going to help her up, he was generally remorseful but not now. This bitch was gonna get her ass kicked.
"Okay, that's it. Nobody does that and gets away with it."
Nutbrown's hand caught the bullwhip midair (or more likely the whip hit his hand and he just happened to stop it, he had no time to make sure) and in between a loud yell of pain, he threw the bullwhip away and pounced on top of Trish. He couldn't really think or do anything else at this point. He threw a punch at Trish's jaw, the whole weight of his body holding her down to the ground.
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Trish praised herself internally as the bullwhip connected with his forearm first, knocking the pistol out of his hand. After that threat was neutralized her counterattack also connected successfully, lashing Nick across the face and leaving a gash along his right cheek. Urging her body to move, Trish attempted to roll onto her side to get closer to the AK so that she could finish the job, but a painful recourse surged through her leg as she accidentally shifted her weight onto her wounded thigh, causing her to hiss and moan in pain.
"Okay, that's it. Nobody does that and gets away with it."
Capitalizing on the painful situation she found herself in, Nick wasted no time in mounting Trish, his knees pinning her arms down to the ground. She desperately tried to wriggle herself free, but his body weight was far superior to hers, and try as she might she couldn't wrench her arms out from underneath him. She pulled her knee back in a vain attempt to knock him off her, but it was of no avail. Instead, she was greeted with a solid punch in the face.
The unfamiliar sensation racked Trish, her eyes slamming shut as the newfound throbbing pain on the side of her face took over. Her good leg still kicked furiously as she tried to make any sense of what was happening, or why the hell Nicholas Nutbrown of all people was trying to kill her. His words rang through her mind again as she struggled.
"Does what!? You fucking shot me!" She heaved, distantly recalling the fiasco back at the brook after Jake had been killed. Sloan had been stupid enough to ask her if she was sane after her best friend had been killed right in front of her, and then attack her for it, and now Nick was clearly out of his mind as well. Adrenaline and emotions rushed through her faster than she could make sense of them, and in her rage and confusion she let out a painful scream before regaining at least some of her composure.
"What the hell is WRONG with you people!?"
Her second question was met with another solid punch on the other side of her face.
Pain, fear, and panic setting in, Trish flailed her wrists and leg around desperately, trying to recover from the relentless assault Nick was pounding into her. If this kept up she wouldn't stand a chance of surviving, especially if he calmed down enough to take his gun back. Her thoughts racing, she distantly hoped that someone would wander by and stop him...
"JAMES!" she screamed out loud, her thoughts escaping her lips before she even had time to process them. He couldn't be that far away, she hoped, and hoping that at the least it would get Nick off her for a minute, she heaved in pain and cried out despairingly.
"JAAAAAAAMEEEEEESSSSSS!"
"Okay, that's it. Nobody does that and gets away with it."
Capitalizing on the painful situation she found herself in, Nick wasted no time in mounting Trish, his knees pinning her arms down to the ground. She desperately tried to wriggle herself free, but his body weight was far superior to hers, and try as she might she couldn't wrench her arms out from underneath him. She pulled her knee back in a vain attempt to knock him off her, but it was of no avail. Instead, she was greeted with a solid punch in the face.
The unfamiliar sensation racked Trish, her eyes slamming shut as the newfound throbbing pain on the side of her face took over. Her good leg still kicked furiously as she tried to make any sense of what was happening, or why the hell Nicholas Nutbrown of all people was trying to kill her. His words rang through her mind again as she struggled.
"Does what!? You fucking shot me!" She heaved, distantly recalling the fiasco back at the brook after Jake had been killed. Sloan had been stupid enough to ask her if she was sane after her best friend had been killed right in front of her, and then attack her for it, and now Nick was clearly out of his mind as well. Adrenaline and emotions rushed through her faster than she could make sense of them, and in her rage and confusion she let out a painful scream before regaining at least some of her composure.
"What the hell is WRONG with you people!?"
Her second question was met with another solid punch on the other side of her face.
Pain, fear, and panic setting in, Trish flailed her wrists and leg around desperately, trying to recover from the relentless assault Nick was pounding into her. If this kept up she wouldn't stand a chance of surviving, especially if he calmed down enough to take his gun back. Her thoughts racing, she distantly hoped that someone would wander by and stop him...
"JAMES!" she screamed out loud, her thoughts escaping her lips before she even had time to process them. He couldn't be that far away, she hoped, and hoping that at the least it would get Nick off her for a minute, she heaved in pain and cried out despairingly.
"JAAAAAAAMEEEEEESSSSSS!"
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James almost leaped out of his skin as gunshots pierced the air nearby. His mind raced and he became momentarily dizzy, but despite feeling like he was going to black out on the spot he managed to get his legs moving again, staggering the first couple steps and finally breaking into a run.
'Shit, I hope that was Trish's gun...oh God let that be her gun...'
Pumping his legs as fast as he could James finally reached the clearing where the bridge started, breathless as he skidded to a halt and swung the gun up in front of him. He wasn't about to waste time finding out who this attacker was because Trish's screaming meant that she was alive and there wasn't a second to lose if he wanted her to stay that way.
He wanted to scream himself, some furious interjection that in his current state of logic would somehow lend power and accuracy to his bullets, but his voice caught painfully in his throat as he squeezed the trigger frantically a bunch of times.
'Shit, I hope that was Trish's gun...oh God let that be her gun...'
Pumping his legs as fast as he could James finally reached the clearing where the bridge started, breathless as he skidded to a halt and swung the gun up in front of him. He wasn't about to waste time finding out who this attacker was because Trish's screaming meant that she was alive and there wasn't a second to lose if he wanted her to stay that way.
He wanted to scream himself, some furious interjection that in his current state of logic would somehow lend power and accuracy to his bullets, but his voice caught painfully in his throat as he squeezed the trigger frantically a bunch of times.
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"Maybe this wasn't such a great idea from the start." This was what Nutbrown would have said, had James not come around and filled his back with lead. This what he actually said, given in mind that he himself has never been shot anywhere by anything before in his entire life. The look on his face was that of a scared child.
"GAH FUCK FUCK FUCK! MOTHER-FUCKErr...."
As everything began crashing down in front of Nutbrown, every object and ever color beginning to disolve, his whole body toppled down ontop of Trish. He wasn't heavy but with all of his weight pushing on her it was going to be a huge task getting him off. Just before he let himself slip away forever, Nutbrown uttered a few solemn words under he weak breath...
"I'll see you all in hell, cocksuckers!"
B92 - Nicholas Nutbrown is dead and shit. Nothing to see here, move along!
69 Students Left
"GAH FUCK FUCK FUCK! MOTHER-FUCKErr...."
As everything began crashing down in front of Nutbrown, every object and ever color beginning to disolve, his whole body toppled down ontop of Trish. He wasn't heavy but with all of his weight pushing on her it was going to be a huge task getting him off. Just before he let himself slip away forever, Nutbrown uttered a few solemn words under he weak breath...
"I'll see you all in hell, cocksuckers!"
B92 - Nicholas Nutbrown is dead and shit. Nothing to see here, move along!
69 Students Left
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((any & all GMing preapproved by your mother))
((Danielle Champney continued from Cause & Effect))
What started as a sprint back at the mess hall had now tapered off to a drunken lumber. Panic had given way to confusion and despondence, and any sense of direction had been lost after blundering through mile after endless mile of identical jungle. Defeated, Danni threw her weight against a tree and collapsed against it. Her face contorted as she struggled to balance sobs and wheezes.
The girl had overestimated her strength. She found herself unable to keep upright against the trunk, and instead descended steadily towards the muddy earth. It was more pathetic and scared than she'd ever felt. She was utterly broken. Her first days on the island had been terrifying, made even worse by how alone she was. Her closest contact to her former peers was coming across the occasional corpse, sometimes too mangled or rotted to even identify. But at least when she was alone she was able to fool herself. It seemed impossible that any of her classmates could kill. She could pretend that it was some other thing killing them, some horrible, inhuman beast. It was easy with nobody else there to blame. Then she met Lenny, and Anna's killer was given a face. And then she saw poor Reg get cut down just a few feet from her. It was a miracle she was still alive. In fact, the only reason she could still be alive was because of Trish and James. She couldn't fool herself any longer. They were so strong, they had guns, and she was so maddeningly weak by comparison. She would be rotting and festering by now if she hadn't run into them at the brook. But even that small stroke of luck had been too good to be true. Here she was back at square one all over again, collapsed in a sobbing, gasping wreck drowning in sea of mud. A worthless pig rolling in its sty just hours away from its inescapable slaughter. There was no use in fighting it any longer.
There was the sound of gunfire off behind her somewhere, and screaming. She barely noticed. In the beginning there was hardly a moment when she didn't hear those noises. They were becoming more scattered and infrequent, but that only meant her time was drawing nearer. Until then, they were meaningless to her.
But the next screams to come held all too much meaning.
"JAMES!"
Her sobs were suddenly blocked in her throat as her heart leapt up to choke them off.
"JAAAAAAAMEEEEEESSSSSS!"
The Great Indian Giver gave her exactly what she wanted, but with a terrible catch.
Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities as she knelt frozen in the mud. She was on the losing team. She could easily sneak off now. It would buy her a few hours, maybe even days. Maybe if she waited long enough the fuckers would all kill themselves off. Not the most noble of paths, but she was no valiant knight. She didn't even have a goddamn sword anymore.
Or she could rush in and be the martyred hero. Power of friendship and all that jazz. Sure, she'd look a little silly when her assailant realized all she had was some half-assed nunchucks and promptly mowed her down, but it was a little more glorious than being suffocated by her own self pity. She could give one last brilliant display of uselessness for her proud parents and the viewers at home. And hey, maybe Trish and James would realize they left her behind! Then they'd all die in one big happy pile in a truly Hallmark-styled heartwarming display of love and sacrifice.
Smiling wanly to herself despite the panic buzzing in her head, and feeling more than slightly insane for it all, she stumbled speedily towards certain death.
-----------------------------------
((Hayden O'Guinn continued from Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer))
If Danni's survival had been some work of God, it was almost certain that Hayden's had more to do with Satan himself.
The boy lurched through the jungle with a zombie-like grace, and with bluish fingers grasping his trusty club as tightly as they could manage. His pale and freshly scarred lips shifted occasionally as he muttered to himself, letting loose a small trickle from every cut. The horrifying pulp that was once a tongue, mangled by a desperate and delusional lunch of tree bark, darted out to catch these. The taste reminded him of rare steak. His stomach roared.
Some hours ago he'd stripped himself of his cumbersome clothing. He would look almost silly in only the mud-streaked gray boxers and caked hiking boots had his corpselike appearance not been so alarming. But he had been so unbearably hot, it had felt like the clothes were melting to his burning skin. Despite his sudden fever his body still trembled with the remnants of the deathly freeze he'd felt before, but with so much less intensity than what they had been. Hayden O'Guinn was a cadaver who had not yet realized he was dead.
By virtue of witchcraft or willpower the boy stumbled through thick trees and thicker dark with his stomach as guide. It was all that was left, really; his mind had given up the wheel long ago. It was as utterly numb as his limbs. Unfortunately, the stomach proved to be the better navigator after all. His eyes locked on the lanky figure as his lips twisted into a stupid but still somehow sinister grin. He hardly noticed the second figure in the distance, or the third that flew by in a frenzied, shrieking blur. He only saw dinner.
He raised the jutte.
-----------------------------------
"James!"
Danni half ran, and half clawed her way up the muddy slope towards the boy.
"James, what-"
It was then that she noticed Trish sprawled on the ground several yards away, and what was keeping her there. She inhaled sharply and let the breath out with all the force of a fevered trumpeteer.
"JESUSCHRISTRISH!"
Her legs suddenly found the strength to not only lift her upright but propel her forward. Within a few steps she resembled more in sound and speed a jumbo jet than a frail teenaged girl. She didn't so much stop at the mound of dead and living human flesh as she did slide through it, hooking her arm around the waist of dead Nick as she went. His weight crippled her momentum and sent her to her knees for the thousandth time that week. Her nostrils were assaulted by the reek of blood and sweat all mixed in with a stench all too familiar that she tried to force her mind not to identify (but it screamed it to her nonetheless; shit). Still she tugged with all the force her skinny arms could carry. So focused was she on the task of freeing her friend that she hadn't registered the pain in her right shoulder even after the yelp of pain escaped her throat, and for a split second was puzzled at why she now found herself laying on her back in the mud. The club then came down on her abdomen and she let out a much more guttural cry.
The figure before her was something not even the worst of her nightmares could have conjured. She was screaming again before the club even struck. On the third decent her ogre-ish assailant paused before finishing the blow. He stood for a moment, appearing to be deep in idiot thought, and dropped the club in favor of what was grasped in his left hand. He fumbled with the hammer of James's gun and aimed the barrel down to Danni's face.
((Danielle Champney continued from Cause & Effect))
What started as a sprint back at the mess hall had now tapered off to a drunken lumber. Panic had given way to confusion and despondence, and any sense of direction had been lost after blundering through mile after endless mile of identical jungle. Defeated, Danni threw her weight against a tree and collapsed against it. Her face contorted as she struggled to balance sobs and wheezes.
The girl had overestimated her strength. She found herself unable to keep upright against the trunk, and instead descended steadily towards the muddy earth. It was more pathetic and scared than she'd ever felt. She was utterly broken. Her first days on the island had been terrifying, made even worse by how alone she was. Her closest contact to her former peers was coming across the occasional corpse, sometimes too mangled or rotted to even identify. But at least when she was alone she was able to fool herself. It seemed impossible that any of her classmates could kill. She could pretend that it was some other thing killing them, some horrible, inhuman beast. It was easy with nobody else there to blame. Then she met Lenny, and Anna's killer was given a face. And then she saw poor Reg get cut down just a few feet from her. It was a miracle she was still alive. In fact, the only reason she could still be alive was because of Trish and James. She couldn't fool herself any longer. They were so strong, they had guns, and she was so maddeningly weak by comparison. She would be rotting and festering by now if she hadn't run into them at the brook. But even that small stroke of luck had been too good to be true. Here she was back at square one all over again, collapsed in a sobbing, gasping wreck drowning in sea of mud. A worthless pig rolling in its sty just hours away from its inescapable slaughter. There was no use in fighting it any longer.
There was the sound of gunfire off behind her somewhere, and screaming. She barely noticed. In the beginning there was hardly a moment when she didn't hear those noises. They were becoming more scattered and infrequent, but that only meant her time was drawing nearer. Until then, they were meaningless to her.
But the next screams to come held all too much meaning.
"JAMES!"
Her sobs were suddenly blocked in her throat as her heart leapt up to choke them off.
"JAAAAAAAMEEEEEESSSSSS!"
The Great Indian Giver gave her exactly what she wanted, but with a terrible catch.
Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities as she knelt frozen in the mud. She was on the losing team. She could easily sneak off now. It would buy her a few hours, maybe even days. Maybe if she waited long enough the fuckers would all kill themselves off. Not the most noble of paths, but she was no valiant knight. She didn't even have a goddamn sword anymore.
Or she could rush in and be the martyred hero. Power of friendship and all that jazz. Sure, she'd look a little silly when her assailant realized all she had was some half-assed nunchucks and promptly mowed her down, but it was a little more glorious than being suffocated by her own self pity. She could give one last brilliant display of uselessness for her proud parents and the viewers at home. And hey, maybe Trish and James would realize they left her behind! Then they'd all die in one big happy pile in a truly Hallmark-styled heartwarming display of love and sacrifice.
Smiling wanly to herself despite the panic buzzing in her head, and feeling more than slightly insane for it all, she stumbled speedily towards certain death.
-----------------------------------
((Hayden O'Guinn continued from Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer))
If Danni's survival had been some work of God, it was almost certain that Hayden's had more to do with Satan himself.
The boy lurched through the jungle with a zombie-like grace, and with bluish fingers grasping his trusty club as tightly as they could manage. His pale and freshly scarred lips shifted occasionally as he muttered to himself, letting loose a small trickle from every cut. The horrifying pulp that was once a tongue, mangled by a desperate and delusional lunch of tree bark, darted out to catch these. The taste reminded him of rare steak. His stomach roared.
Some hours ago he'd stripped himself of his cumbersome clothing. He would look almost silly in only the mud-streaked gray boxers and caked hiking boots had his corpselike appearance not been so alarming. But he had been so unbearably hot, it had felt like the clothes were melting to his burning skin. Despite his sudden fever his body still trembled with the remnants of the deathly freeze he'd felt before, but with so much less intensity than what they had been. Hayden O'Guinn was a cadaver who had not yet realized he was dead.
By virtue of witchcraft or willpower the boy stumbled through thick trees and thicker dark with his stomach as guide. It was all that was left, really; his mind had given up the wheel long ago. It was as utterly numb as his limbs. Unfortunately, the stomach proved to be the better navigator after all. His eyes locked on the lanky figure as his lips twisted into a stupid but still somehow sinister grin. He hardly noticed the second figure in the distance, or the third that flew by in a frenzied, shrieking blur. He only saw dinner.
He raised the jutte.
-----------------------------------
"James!"
Danni half ran, and half clawed her way up the muddy slope towards the boy.
"James, what-"
It was then that she noticed Trish sprawled on the ground several yards away, and what was keeping her there. She inhaled sharply and let the breath out with all the force of a fevered trumpeteer.
"JESUSCHRISTRISH!"
Her legs suddenly found the strength to not only lift her upright but propel her forward. Within a few steps she resembled more in sound and speed a jumbo jet than a frail teenaged girl. She didn't so much stop at the mound of dead and living human flesh as she did slide through it, hooking her arm around the waist of dead Nick as she went. His weight crippled her momentum and sent her to her knees for the thousandth time that week. Her nostrils were assaulted by the reek of blood and sweat all mixed in with a stench all too familiar that she tried to force her mind not to identify (but it screamed it to her nonetheless; shit). Still she tugged with all the force her skinny arms could carry. So focused was she on the task of freeing her friend that she hadn't registered the pain in her right shoulder even after the yelp of pain escaped her throat, and for a split second was puzzled at why she now found herself laying on her back in the mud. The club then came down on her abdomen and she let out a much more guttural cry.
The figure before her was something not even the worst of her nightmares could have conjured. She was screaming again before the club even struck. On the third decent her ogre-ish assailant paused before finishing the blow. He stood for a moment, appearing to be deep in idiot thought, and dropped the club in favor of what was grasped in his left hand. He fumbled with the hammer of James's gun and aimed the barrel down to Danni's face.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nope. 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.
Trish heaved a deep breath inwards as a multitude of bullets erupted from James' gun, piercing through Nick like a knife through butter. She never thought that seeing one of her classmates murdered less than a foot away from her would bring her a feeling of relief of all things, but any and all moral implications of that were lost on her as she caught her breath and listened to Nick curse obscenely. Her hands let go of his arms and came up in front of her face to protect herself as he jerked and twitched involuntarily, then with a final rememberance came crashing down onto her. His last words were whispered practically right into her ear.
"I'll see you all in hell, cocksuckers!"
"Don't count on it," she spat back as Nick's chest slowly came to a rest and his breathing halted. As his body weight shifted down onto her she found her leg throbbing once again, the searing pain of the bullet wound far surpassing anything she'd ever felt before. Writhing and squirming, she desperately wrenched at his corpse in an attempt to throw it off of her, but to no avail. As she looked over towards James to ask for help, something else caught her eye, though.
Danni!
Not only had she caught up to them, but the distressed girl seemed to be working more efficiently than she ever had before. She sounded panicky, but she seemed to notice Trish's peril and slowly but surely they managed to heave Nick's corpse (she'd have to remind herself to make a fat joke about him in the next life) off of her. Trish's face formed a strange combination of a grimace and a smile; she'd never been more happy to see Danni than she was right now.
"T-thanks..." She started sombrely, gritting through the pain as she meant to express her gratitude towards Danni, but the fates wouldn't allow it. A boy Trish could barely recognize in his clumsy and dilapidated state brought a painful blow down on Danni's shoulder with a club, and Trish's eyes widened in shock as the realization sunk in that they weren't out of the woods yet. Her eyes darted over towards where James had been just seconds before, but he was now down on the ground. Somewhere in the confusion the girls had missed Hayden's pre-emptive attack, and as the club struck Danni two more times viciously she realized that it might really cost them.
The panic amplified magnanimously when Trish noticed the gun dangling loosely in Hayden's hand. She hadn't registered that it came from James, but she didn't need to. Now that Nick was off of her his gun had fallen down beside her, and since she didn't have enough time to reach for the cumbersome AK-47 she snatched up Nick's mauser instead. Without a second's thought she braced the pistol with both hands, pointing it directly towards Hayden's face (which was mere feet away from her) and squeezing the trigger three times.
"I'll see you all in hell, cocksuckers!"
"Don't count on it," she spat back as Nick's chest slowly came to a rest and his breathing halted. As his body weight shifted down onto her she found her leg throbbing once again, the searing pain of the bullet wound far surpassing anything she'd ever felt before. Writhing and squirming, she desperately wrenched at his corpse in an attempt to throw it off of her, but to no avail. As she looked over towards James to ask for help, something else caught her eye, though.
Danni!
Not only had she caught up to them, but the distressed girl seemed to be working more efficiently than she ever had before. She sounded panicky, but she seemed to notice Trish's peril and slowly but surely they managed to heave Nick's corpse (she'd have to remind herself to make a fat joke about him in the next life) off of her. Trish's face formed a strange combination of a grimace and a smile; she'd never been more happy to see Danni than she was right now.
"T-thanks..." She started sombrely, gritting through the pain as she meant to express her gratitude towards Danni, but the fates wouldn't allow it. A boy Trish could barely recognize in his clumsy and dilapidated state brought a painful blow down on Danni's shoulder with a club, and Trish's eyes widened in shock as the realization sunk in that they weren't out of the woods yet. Her eyes darted over towards where James had been just seconds before, but he was now down on the ground. Somewhere in the confusion the girls had missed Hayden's pre-emptive attack, and as the club struck Danni two more times viciously she realized that it might really cost them.
The panic amplified magnanimously when Trish noticed the gun dangling loosely in Hayden's hand. She hadn't registered that it came from James, but she didn't need to. Now that Nick was off of her his gun had fallen down beside her, and since she didn't have enough time to reach for the cumbersome AK-47 she snatched up Nick's mauser instead. Without a second's thought she braced the pistol with both hands, pointing it directly towards Hayden's face (which was mere feet away from her) and squeezing the trigger three times.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. 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.
The first bullet found its mark. It began its journey just under Hayden's right eye. It tore through epidermis and dermis, rending follicles and glands and vessels and capillaries. It shattered bone like china and severed strands of muscle like so many delicate violin strings, setting nerves alight as it went. It demolished the fragile seashell form of the middle nasal concha and continued its rampage through the soft tissue of the brain. But momentum could only carry it so far. The slug lodged itself in the paracentral lobule, just short of breaking free of its bone prison, and began to drown in the blood.
Hayden wavered for a moment as the other two bullets flew harmlessly by his head (as if they realized they were now utterly unnecessary). His eyes rolled back and blood began to make its escape through his nose. Then gravity remembered to do its work and, like a great tree, he began to topple. His dying brain (its inevitable fate only quickened by the hunk of metal that pierced it) sent one last message to tighten his grip on the pistol before his back met the mire and sent a torrent of mud heavenwards.
He did not stir.
B97 HAYDEN O'GUINN: DECEASED
---------------------------------------
For Danni, the whole miserable scene had gone by in painful slow motion. She took a dazed hand to her face and wiped away the remnants of another person's blood from it, then re-affixed her gaze to the corpse that had been a living being just moments before. She struggled to her feet.
The pain in her abdomen was nearly unbearable. She clutched it with her right arm while trying to maintain balance with her left. She moved gracelessly to the lifeless mound's side. After several moments of trying to swallow down the pain, she gathered the strength to look down.
She was surprised to find that the scene didn't conjure feelings of nausea and disgust. Looking as his idiot face staring blankly at the sky, she instead felt herself growing angry. Her teeth gnashed and grit almost by their own will.
"You bastard."
The words were muffled behind the still-clenched teeth. Following the lead of her jaw, her limbs also began to act without her consent. She found her leg pulling back and, in the flash of an eye, it was stretched out before her and colliding with the side of the cadaver.
"You fucking-"
She kicked again.
"-stupid-"
And again.
"-ugly-"
And again.
"-worthless-"
And again.
"-peice of shit motherfucking BASTARD!"
For the second time that day, her lungs tapped into some boundless source of might and pushed her voice out with enough force to level the whole jungle. There was a series of sickening cracks and squelches as she dented the dead boy. There was a growing pain in her foot as she kicked and kicked, but the rage drowned it out. There was no Trish and no island and even James's crumpled form a few yards away from her was gone; it was just her and this lifeless thing to exact her rage upon. She kicked and kicked and would have continued kicking had the mud not provided such inadequate footing.
She lost her balance, and fell hard on her bottom with a splash.
Hayden wavered for a moment as the other two bullets flew harmlessly by his head (as if they realized they were now utterly unnecessary). His eyes rolled back and blood began to make its escape through his nose. Then gravity remembered to do its work and, like a great tree, he began to topple. His dying brain (its inevitable fate only quickened by the hunk of metal that pierced it) sent one last message to tighten his grip on the pistol before his back met the mire and sent a torrent of mud heavenwards.
He did not stir.
B97 HAYDEN O'GUINN: DECEASED
---------------------------------------
For Danni, the whole miserable scene had gone by in painful slow motion. She took a dazed hand to her face and wiped away the remnants of another person's blood from it, then re-affixed her gaze to the corpse that had been a living being just moments before. She struggled to her feet.
The pain in her abdomen was nearly unbearable. She clutched it with her right arm while trying to maintain balance with her left. She moved gracelessly to the lifeless mound's side. After several moments of trying to swallow down the pain, she gathered the strength to look down.
She was surprised to find that the scene didn't conjure feelings of nausea and disgust. Looking as his idiot face staring blankly at the sky, she instead felt herself growing angry. Her teeth gnashed and grit almost by their own will.
"You bastard."
The words were muffled behind the still-clenched teeth. Following the lead of her jaw, her limbs also began to act without her consent. She found her leg pulling back and, in the flash of an eye, it was stretched out before her and colliding with the side of the cadaver.
"You fucking-"
She kicked again.
"-stupid-"
And again.
"-ugly-"
And again.
"-worthless-"
And again.
"-peice of shit motherfucking BASTARD!"
For the second time that day, her lungs tapped into some boundless source of might and pushed her voice out with enough force to level the whole jungle. There was a series of sickening cracks and squelches as she dented the dead boy. There was a growing pain in her foot as she kicked and kicked, but the rage drowned it out. There was no Trish and no island and even James's crumpled form a few yards away from her was gone; it was just her and this lifeless thing to exact her rage upon. She kicked and kicked and would have continued kicking had the mud not provided such inadequate footing.
She lost her balance, and fell hard on her bottom with a splash.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nope. 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.