Nobody was probably more paranoid of the poison consuming the angels than the other raging redhead, who had just realized that she had just stuck a man with two large arrows while someone else had planted an axe in his skull. The ringing in her ears had finally ceased, allowing her to properly behold the fruits (and juicing thereof) of her labor, some of which had gotten on her clothing. It was not a pretty sight, and being the first time that Reneé had actually ended the life of another human being, it was a sight that would not go away for a long time save for a premature ending of her own.
Yet Reneé seemed eerily calm in a scene that would have certainly driven her to a complete nervous breakdown and/or self-inflicted mutilation. The look on her face seemed fatigued with a hint of relaxation as sweat beaded down her forehead. But there was a gleam in her eyes that - if one were to stare longingly into them - would be described as nothing short of murderous. She had bowed down a bit, resting her hands on her knees as reality finally resumed pace with her. But now she slowly stood herself erect again, taking deep breaths as she watched Jessa hand Melina one of the weapons she'd acquired.
Any moment now or in the near future, Melina or Jessa were going to turn on Reneé and each other, and chances were they'd have to get Reneé out of the way first before they went against each other. Judging from previous experience with a certain aggressive blonde, it wasn't hard to figure out that Melina would have the upper hand against Jessa, so one redhead would have to start keeping an eye on the other.
"Let's get the fuck out of here..." she timidly to the conversation as she shouldered the bow and slowly drew the bottle of water from her assigned backpack, taking a hearty chug before trudging away with them.
Reneé took one last look at the corpse before leaving. As she turned to leave, she noticed someone trying to hide behind a tree. But as things stood now, she figured that person would have to be pretty cocksure to try to take on a group of bloodthirsty bitches with blades (and a bow.)
Even now in heaven there were angels carrying savage weapons...
((Renee Valenti continued elsewhere))
She Bop
CONTENT WARNING [Content Warning: Sexual Assault]
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.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Calmy he watched as the boy was brutally murdered by two of the girls and couldn't help but smirk at the words spoken by what seemed to be the leader of the group. Will couldn't quite tell if she was currently existing in the plane of reality or had hopped from a comic book and onto the island. It was a shame he wasn't in a better position to strike, or he would've made her eat her own words. "The fittest"? That was a joke. In moments he could've killed them all. Of course, it wouldn't have been that simple. Something would've gone wrong.
But it wasn't a question of his capacity to kill, mentally, would he even have been able to do it?
That question was already answered.
"Fuck it, too late to think about that now."
Will stepped over Jeff's body, careful not to touch it. He turned back to look at it for a moment, gazing at the corpse with a look of cold dissatisfaction.
It didn't take long before Will found himself opening the door to the cottage. He took a look around. It hadn't always been deserted, he could tell. Strangely enough, Will saw that all of the cameras were broken. This wasn't a random act. But Will had little time to ponder why exactly someone had broken the cameras. It would be a minor inconvenience to the Terrorists, at the moment, unless one were to break all of the cameras on the island. With their degree of firepower and the fact that they could kill any of the students with a push of the button, Will doubted they would have any trouble fixing the cameras.
He brought his duffel bag in from outside and dropped it on the floor inside. Without delay he placed the pistol on the ground, not far from where he could reach it. The air was cold on his exposed skin as he removed his wet clothes and placed them on the ground. He shuddered and then began to put a spare pair of pants on. They were dark jeans, durable and with decently sized pockets to hold whatever supplies he would have to keep on hand. He had a bit of trouble putting on his belt, as the sheath for the short sword was still attached and it was difficult to get off. As Will was looking for a T-Shirt in the duffel bag, he heard a noise behind him.
*creak*
In mere seconds Will had spun around, the revolver gripped in his cold hands. A small, strange girl stood behind him, a large rifle pointed at his chest.
"Will!"
"Stephanie."
She had spent the last few days hiding in the caves, barely avoiding some others that had walked by her. She was quiet, and they were dark. Only now had she decided to come out of the caves and explore the island, and had only recently came by the Sea Cliffs. The sheer amouint of corpses there made her sick to her stomach, and the sight of Christian Rydell, shot to death on the cliff was even worse. Will and he were best friends, they seemed to be more like brothers even. Where Christian was, Will would have been too. She couldn't find him amongst the bodies and followed some muddy footprints from the cliffs. It was a lucky guess. She had seen the group near the cottage and had snuck in through a back window when they left. When a figure entered the room, she pulled the gun on him. She couldn't quite tell how old it was or how powerful a shot it had, or even how to reload it, but it was a gun, that was enough.
They were still, their eyes unblinking. Will wasn't sure what to do. Stephanie was a good person, but a fighter. He wouldn't hurt her. Besides, she had him at a bit of a disadvantage. Will didn't know if she knew how to use that gun of hers, but he didn't want to find out. After what seemed like forever, Will lowered his gun, and she did the same. He put on the T-Shirt he had in his bag. A black Rammstein T-Shirt. Wordlessly he packed up his bag and put his Jacket back on.
"Well? A 'hello' would be nice, Will."
"Hello. Goodbye."
Will began to walk to the door, and Stephanie followed him.
"Look... I know we haven't spoken, but..."
Will interrupted her.
"Christian is dead. I killed him."
"Yeah I- WHAT?!"
"He was dying, and in pain. I shot him in the heart. I can't be trusted to look after anyone but myself, it's what i've always done. Ever since my parents... broke up no one cared for me anymore. No one would lend me a hand, so I had to help myself. When I got here I felt like I had to take care of everyone, to find my friends and lead them out of here. But I haven't ever helped anyone but myself and this island doesn't make it any different."
Will took one final glance and turned for the door. He paused.
"I'm getting off this island, one way or the other. Escape is not an option, so there really is only one way. Stay away from me.
Stephanie stood in the cottage, shocked. She had barely time to think about what he had said before he was gone. Jeff Marontate's body glanced up at her. At least, one of the eyes did. She couldn't tell what happened to the other one. It wasn't a good idea to stay in one place too long.
Stephanie took off and ran through the Jungle.
((Stephanie continued elsewhere))
((Will continued elsewhere))
But it wasn't a question of his capacity to kill, mentally, would he even have been able to do it?
That question was already answered.
"Fuck it, too late to think about that now."
Will stepped over Jeff's body, careful not to touch it. He turned back to look at it for a moment, gazing at the corpse with a look of cold dissatisfaction.
It didn't take long before Will found himself opening the door to the cottage. He took a look around. It hadn't always been deserted, he could tell. Strangely enough, Will saw that all of the cameras were broken. This wasn't a random act. But Will had little time to ponder why exactly someone had broken the cameras. It would be a minor inconvenience to the Terrorists, at the moment, unless one were to break all of the cameras on the island. With their degree of firepower and the fact that they could kill any of the students with a push of the button, Will doubted they would have any trouble fixing the cameras.
He brought his duffel bag in from outside and dropped it on the floor inside. Without delay he placed the pistol on the ground, not far from where he could reach it. The air was cold on his exposed skin as he removed his wet clothes and placed them on the ground. He shuddered and then began to put a spare pair of pants on. They were dark jeans, durable and with decently sized pockets to hold whatever supplies he would have to keep on hand. He had a bit of trouble putting on his belt, as the sheath for the short sword was still attached and it was difficult to get off. As Will was looking for a T-Shirt in the duffel bag, he heard a noise behind him.
*creak*
In mere seconds Will had spun around, the revolver gripped in his cold hands. A small, strange girl stood behind him, a large rifle pointed at his chest.
"Will!"
"Stephanie."
She had spent the last few days hiding in the caves, barely avoiding some others that had walked by her. She was quiet, and they were dark. Only now had she decided to come out of the caves and explore the island, and had only recently came by the Sea Cliffs. The sheer amouint of corpses there made her sick to her stomach, and the sight of Christian Rydell, shot to death on the cliff was even worse. Will and he were best friends, they seemed to be more like brothers even. Where Christian was, Will would have been too. She couldn't find him amongst the bodies and followed some muddy footprints from the cliffs. It was a lucky guess. She had seen the group near the cottage and had snuck in through a back window when they left. When a figure entered the room, she pulled the gun on him. She couldn't quite tell how old it was or how powerful a shot it had, or even how to reload it, but it was a gun, that was enough.
They were still, their eyes unblinking. Will wasn't sure what to do. Stephanie was a good person, but a fighter. He wouldn't hurt her. Besides, she had him at a bit of a disadvantage. Will didn't know if she knew how to use that gun of hers, but he didn't want to find out. After what seemed like forever, Will lowered his gun, and she did the same. He put on the T-Shirt he had in his bag. A black Rammstein T-Shirt. Wordlessly he packed up his bag and put his Jacket back on.
"Well? A 'hello' would be nice, Will."
"Hello. Goodbye."
Will began to walk to the door, and Stephanie followed him.
"Look... I know we haven't spoken, but..."
Will interrupted her.
"Christian is dead. I killed him."
"Yeah I- WHAT?!"
"He was dying, and in pain. I shot him in the heart. I can't be trusted to look after anyone but myself, it's what i've always done. Ever since my parents... broke up no one cared for me anymore. No one would lend me a hand, so I had to help myself. When I got here I felt like I had to take care of everyone, to find my friends and lead them out of here. But I haven't ever helped anyone but myself and this island doesn't make it any different."
Will took one final glance and turned for the door. He paused.
"I'm getting off this island, one way or the other. Escape is not an option, so there really is only one way. Stay away from me.
Stephanie stood in the cottage, shocked. She had barely time to think about what he had said before he was gone. Jeff Marontate's body glanced up at her. At least, one of the eyes did. She couldn't tell what happened to the other one. It wasn't a good idea to stay in one place too long.
Stephanie took off and ran through the Jungle.
((Stephanie continued elsewhere))
((Will continued elsewhere))
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Once the fighting had died down, Francis found himself peeking out of the bushes and into the aftermath. The girls had just left, but one of the boys was making his way into the cottage. Will, he thought his name was. The only reason he recognized him was because of his foreign accent, which made him somewhat distinguishable compared to the other lowlifes around the school. That, however, wasn't what piqued Francis' curiousity.
"He had a gun."
Francis gave the cinquedea clutched tightly in his right hand a look over. It was a pretty good draw for a weapon, but a gun had so much more potential. If he was going to get off this island, and have some fun doing it, he'd need much more than a sword.
This newly found purpose was what finally prompted him to remove himself from the protective cover of the foliage and emerge into the clearing. If he was going to surprise Will he'd have to find another entrance to the cottage, since ambushing him was a recipe for a bullet wound to the head. Francis slowly and quietly made his way around the cottage towards the back, stopping only for a second to spit on the corpse of Jeff Marontate.
"Dumbass."
After a moment he found himself at the rear of the cottage, but he had to duck around a corner just in time to avoid being noticed by a girl who'd hopped through the back window. The adrenaline was really starting to pile on now, as Francis listened intently to their conversation through the cottage wall. Will wasn't exactly the quietest of individuals. He heard nothing of interest, but noted that they seemed to be leaving. The only way he could get to them now would be to sneak up on them from behind as they left the cottage.
Moving a bit farther out into the clearing, Francis caught a glimpse of Will and Stephanie leaving the area. It was now or never to him. His walk quickly accelerated into a sprint as he headed towards the front end of the cottage...
*CRACK*
Before he even knew what hit him Francis felt himself toppling forward, and then he was falling. His feet and arms smashed against hard siding on the way down, and he landed at the bottom of the well on his left shoulder, which gave way with a sickening crunch. All manner of stealth being lost now, Francis screamed in agony. His shoulder had been dislocated, and his feet and arms were both heavily scraped and bruised. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but one quick glance up told him all he needed to know.
"Who fucking put that there!?" he griped sorely, reaching around with his right arm in a vain attempt at setting his left shoulder back into place. It wasn't working, and quite frankly only sent spiraling bursts of pain through his body, so he decided to leave it. "And how fucking long will I be down here..." he muttered bitterly, eying the cinquedea which had also fallen down the well with him. He supposed he was lucky that he hadn't stabbed himself on the way down, but since it looked like he'd fallen at least twenty feet, he didn't suppose he'd be getting out any time soon.
Unfortunately for Francis, his question was answered sooner than expected in the form of the morning announcements. The only reason he bothered listening was because there was nothing better to do, but the final segment made his blood race. The cottage was...?
Francis panicked. His attempts to get to his feet were hindered severely by his shoulder and leg wounds. In some kind of last ditch effort he grabbed the cinquedea in an attempt to prop himself up, but his jostling was cut to an abrupt halt by the now furiously-paced pulsing of his collar.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidd-...!"
Francis didn't have time to finish that thought before his jugular vein was severed as a result of his collar's explosion. His lifeless corpse fell to the ground in a heap, impaling itself on the cinquedea as he went down.
B79: FRANCIS TEMPLE -- DECEASED
"He had a gun."
Francis gave the cinquedea clutched tightly in his right hand a look over. It was a pretty good draw for a weapon, but a gun had so much more potential. If he was going to get off this island, and have some fun doing it, he'd need much more than a sword.
This newly found purpose was what finally prompted him to remove himself from the protective cover of the foliage and emerge into the clearing. If he was going to surprise Will he'd have to find another entrance to the cottage, since ambushing him was a recipe for a bullet wound to the head. Francis slowly and quietly made his way around the cottage towards the back, stopping only for a second to spit on the corpse of Jeff Marontate.
"Dumbass."
After a moment he found himself at the rear of the cottage, but he had to duck around a corner just in time to avoid being noticed by a girl who'd hopped through the back window. The adrenaline was really starting to pile on now, as Francis listened intently to their conversation through the cottage wall. Will wasn't exactly the quietest of individuals. He heard nothing of interest, but noted that they seemed to be leaving. The only way he could get to them now would be to sneak up on them from behind as they left the cottage.
Moving a bit farther out into the clearing, Francis caught a glimpse of Will and Stephanie leaving the area. It was now or never to him. His walk quickly accelerated into a sprint as he headed towards the front end of the cottage...
*CRACK*
Before he even knew what hit him Francis felt himself toppling forward, and then he was falling. His feet and arms smashed against hard siding on the way down, and he landed at the bottom of the well on his left shoulder, which gave way with a sickening crunch. All manner of stealth being lost now, Francis screamed in agony. His shoulder had been dislocated, and his feet and arms were both heavily scraped and bruised. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but one quick glance up told him all he needed to know.
"Who fucking put that there!?" he griped sorely, reaching around with his right arm in a vain attempt at setting his left shoulder back into place. It wasn't working, and quite frankly only sent spiraling bursts of pain through his body, so he decided to leave it. "And how fucking long will I be down here..." he muttered bitterly, eying the cinquedea which had also fallen down the well with him. He supposed he was lucky that he hadn't stabbed himself on the way down, but since it looked like he'd fallen at least twenty feet, he didn't suppose he'd be getting out any time soon.
Unfortunately for Francis, his question was answered sooner than expected in the form of the morning announcements. The only reason he bothered listening was because there was nothing better to do, but the final segment made his blood race. The cottage was...?
Francis panicked. His attempts to get to his feet were hindered severely by his shoulder and leg wounds. In some kind of last ditch effort he grabbed the cinquedea in an attempt to prop himself up, but his jostling was cut to an abrupt halt by the now furiously-paced pulsing of his collar.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidd-...!"
Francis didn't have time to finish that thought before his jugular vein was severed as a result of his collar's explosion. His lifeless corpse fell to the ground in a heap, impaling itself on the cinquedea as he went down.
B79: FRANCIS TEMPLE -- DECEASED
