(He came from GE- GE ME- GET ME OUT OF HERE! OH- FUCK! AAAAAAA. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING JUST- GET ME OUT! AH- GET ME- GET ME OUT OF HERE!)
He had decided to return to the treeline - the safety of the flora had given him protection. He had only stopped to make a cursory search of his bag, merely long enough to provide to him the map. He had decided to head northward - towards higher ground. He'd scavenge what he could along the way.
He knew that there, at the moment, was only a single obstacle - the fact that he had a pursuer. He had noticed during his brief stop the sound of crunching sticks and moving leaves. At first, he had assumed it was nothing more than paranoia. He had seen the cameras and realized that they were all, in a way, watched - but when he had caught a glimpse of copper hair, he knew that she had followed behind him.
He was aware that she had violent tendencies, which he had concluded from her words - had she murdered the boy when he left? He tried as hard as he could to ignore the concerns in his mind and crept his way through the forest. He felt like hours had passed by the time he next felt safe - he arrived at a small, fallen tree near the edge of the treeline and faced the beach.
He saw a telltale crimson color paint the rocky sand and attempted to quiet his horror. He shuddered as his mind came to the only conclusion possible - it was the corpse of another human being. At the same time, he felt something horrible - a sense that it was for the best. He knew that there were at least twenty-eight people on this island, and here was one of them - dead on the ground. He hated the sense of morbid relief that the knowledge gave to him. He felt disgusted and ashamed at the idea - he was glad for that because it reminded him that he was still a person.
He sat down on the fallen tree, turned away from the remains. He shut the thought that he might end up a mere corpse himself - devoid of his cognizance - out of his mind.
I Vow to Thee, My Country
All Earthly Things Above (Open - Day One, Before Announcements)
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Applesintime
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((Deirbhile Callahan continued from GE- GE ME- GET ME OUT OF HERE! OH- FUCK! AAAAAAA. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING JUST- GET ME OUT! AH- GET ME- GET ME OUT OF HERE!))
Jesus Christ, had they already started going at it? Creeping through the woods, her attention was turned to some lad lying on the beach, missing the top half of his head. Jesus Christ. Poor lad. Some wee shit must have got the drop on him and blown his head straight off. Now, being attacked by some wee shit with a rock didn't seem so bad. The sight absolutely scunnered her, and so Deirbhile turned her head away, saying a wee prayer for the lad. Just like her, taken away by these little shites and forced to join this fucked up wee game.
The Brit had sat down on a tree that had fallen over, facing away from the dead body, She hadn't been like, the quietest girl in the world because the bloody drawer kept banging against trees and she kept breaking branches underfoot like a eejit. Brit didn't seem to care much, and he hadn't shot her yet, so that was a success. Trailing him had helped her calm down a wee bit, like, but she was still pretty fucking pissed at the wee lad who threatened them with his gun just for the bag. She was going to fucking start on him, and the grace of God couldn't save him.
"Oi! Brit!" Raising her hands to show she wasn't gonna beat him - although, God, she wanted to - Deirbhile came out of the tree line, approaching the Brit from the sandy part of the beach. Now she was here, Deirbhile wasn't all that sure about what she wanted to do. Honestly, she wanted to just duck back into the trees and piss off outta this wee lad's way, but that would only be the cause of a reddener. There had to be more people here, ones that didn't threaten girls with guns. She wanted to know why, but that was because the lad didn't have a bag himself. But he had his wee pistol, so someone had to have taken his bag like a wee vulture. And that was what Deirbhile was curious about.
"Not gonna fuckin' hit you, so keep that gun in your fuckin' pocket, lad." That was good as well. Didn't wanna end up like that lad over there.
Jesus Christ, had they already started going at it? Creeping through the woods, her attention was turned to some lad lying on the beach, missing the top half of his head. Jesus Christ. Poor lad. Some wee shit must have got the drop on him and blown his head straight off. Now, being attacked by some wee shit with a rock didn't seem so bad. The sight absolutely scunnered her, and so Deirbhile turned her head away, saying a wee prayer for the lad. Just like her, taken away by these little shites and forced to join this fucked up wee game.
The Brit had sat down on a tree that had fallen over, facing away from the dead body, She hadn't been like, the quietest girl in the world because the bloody drawer kept banging against trees and she kept breaking branches underfoot like a eejit. Brit didn't seem to care much, and he hadn't shot her yet, so that was a success. Trailing him had helped her calm down a wee bit, like, but she was still pretty fucking pissed at the wee lad who threatened them with his gun just for the bag. She was going to fucking start on him, and the grace of God couldn't save him.
"Oi! Brit!" Raising her hands to show she wasn't gonna beat him - although, God, she wanted to - Deirbhile came out of the tree line, approaching the Brit from the sandy part of the beach. Now she was here, Deirbhile wasn't all that sure about what she wanted to do. Honestly, she wanted to just duck back into the trees and piss off outta this wee lad's way, but that would only be the cause of a reddener. There had to be more people here, ones that didn't threaten girls with guns. She wanted to know why, but that was because the lad didn't have a bag himself. But he had his wee pistol, so someone had to have taken his bag like a wee vulture. And that was what Deirbhile was curious about.
"Not gonna fuckin' hit you, so keep that gun in your fuckin' pocket, lad." That was good as well. Didn't wanna end up like that lad over there.
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Dogs231
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He stared at the edge of the forest and watched as the leaves rustled. He saw Deirbhile appear from the branches and bramble and reached towards the stapler in his pocket. He did not remove it - doing so from this distance would reveal the fact it was not, in fact, a pistol. He heard her call out to him and watched her raise her hands as if to say she did not want a fight.
He stared blankly at her and listened to the slight, cold breeze. He considered what to say - he would prefer not to end this conversation with a fight, especially one in which he would have a physical disadvantage. He sighed for a moment, blinked, and then spoke.
"What the fuck do you want with me?"
He was surprised that she did not resort to violence. He ignored the possibility that his words would provoke physical wrath from the girl. He just wanted an answer - why she had been following him for so long. He assumed that she wanted an explanation for his actions - he had thought they would be self-explanatory.
He continued to stare vaguely in her direction as he waited for her response - and only occasionally glanced at the dead boy behind him.
He stared blankly at her and listened to the slight, cold breeze. He considered what to say - he would prefer not to end this conversation with a fight, especially one in which he would have a physical disadvantage. He sighed for a moment, blinked, and then spoke.
"What the fuck do you want with me?"
He was surprised that she did not resort to violence. He ignored the possibility that his words would provoke physical wrath from the girl. He just wanted an answer - why she had been following him for so long. He assumed that she wanted an explanation for his actions - he had thought they would be self-explanatory.
He continued to stare vaguely in her direction as he waited for her response - and only occasionally glanced at the dead boy behind him.
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Applesintime
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"Why the fuck'd you- right, no, I can fuckin' understand why you took the wee lad's bag. Preferred you not fuckin' hold us at gunpoint, but can't do shite about that now. Your other bag. The one you woke up with. Someone nick it from you?" She gestured with her elbow at him. Brit seemed a little pissed off, but aye, in all fairness she was sorta stalking him, and especially since the wee lad lying dead probably put the fear of God into him.
He reached for his pocket, and Deirbhile stiffened just for a moment. This was it, she was a stupid wee bitch and she was gonna die - then he just sorta kept it there and she breathed a sigh of relief. Right, he wasn't gonna do her with the gun, even if he was a Brit. Ack, going on about that made her sound like a pure fucking gurn. "I know that's a weird question, like, but if there's some other wee prick runnin' around this wee island, goin' around stealin' from people just because he thinks he's big and hard, then I'd like to fuckin' know who so I can kick the cunt in the balls and run away if I see him. I know I'm a fuckin' weirdo for stalkin' you, but I wanna know."
There were already people to watch out for, judging by the lad lying dead on the beach missing the top half of his head. Even thinking about it made her shudder. Poor bastard's probably up with Jesus and Mary, now. It was a wee bit liberating, to know that if she did decide to start going around and beating people with a drawer, she wasn't gonna be the first one. But aye, it was a fucking drawer, she didn't exactly have her hurley. Bit slow and big and heavy.
Awaiting his reply, she stared at him, keeping an eye on that little pocket he had his hand in. Any sign of movement from there, and oh, she'd beat his ass with this fucking thing. Or die. Knowing her luck, she'd throw it at him and still get shot.
He reached for his pocket, and Deirbhile stiffened just for a moment. This was it, she was a stupid wee bitch and she was gonna die - then he just sorta kept it there and she breathed a sigh of relief. Right, he wasn't gonna do her with the gun, even if he was a Brit. Ack, going on about that made her sound like a pure fucking gurn. "I know that's a weird question, like, but if there's some other wee prick runnin' around this wee island, goin' around stealin' from people just because he thinks he's big and hard, then I'd like to fuckin' know who so I can kick the cunt in the balls and run away if I see him. I know I'm a fuckin' weirdo for stalkin' you, but I wanna know."
There were already people to watch out for, judging by the lad lying dead on the beach missing the top half of his head. Even thinking about it made her shudder. Poor bastard's probably up with Jesus and Mary, now. It was a wee bit liberating, to know that if she did decide to start going around and beating people with a drawer, she wasn't gonna be the first one. But aye, it was a fucking drawer, she didn't exactly have her hurley. Bit slow and big and heavy.
Awaiting his reply, she stared at him, keeping an eye on that little pocket he had his hand in. Any sign of movement from there, and oh, she'd beat his ass with this fucking thing. Or die. Knowing her luck, she'd throw it at him and still get shot.
((Clara Micallef continued from la guerra de los santos))
What the fuck. Had she seriously followed those two across like half the island only to lose track of them here? Sure, they had a bit of a head start on her, and she had been delayed from trying to stay out of the gunfire back at the town, but still... Where could they possibly have gone? This was an open beach, not some sort of maze.
Clara gave a loud groan of frustration as she kicked at the ground beneath her feet, sending a spray of dirt and pebbles into the air. It wasn't fair. She had gotten so close to getting back at those two assholes, and they had slipped out of her fingers at the last moment. Not that anything would have prevented this from being the worst day of her life, but you'd think that she was due for at least something to go her way.
A quick scan of the horizon revealed the promising sign of a male and a female figure in the distance, though as she got closer it became obvious that it wasn't the duo that she was looking for. The threatening poses that they seemed to be in were already giving her flashbacks to her encounter earlier in the day, though with her experience she wasn't about to get burned a second time. She kept a hand near her waistband as she approached, ready to pull out her weapon at the slightest sign of trouble.
"Yo, I don't mean to interrupt whatever you two have going on here, but did either of you happen to see a pair of slippery-looking bastards run through here carrying a bunch of bags?"
There probably was a better way to have phrased that, but she didn't really care - as far as she was concerned, pretending that she actually gave a damn about interrupting anything was more polite than she needed to be already. Besides, she was still far enough away that she'd be able to easily make an exit if they decided to make this more...difficult than it needed to be.
What the fuck. Had she seriously followed those two across like half the island only to lose track of them here? Sure, they had a bit of a head start on her, and she had been delayed from trying to stay out of the gunfire back at the town, but still... Where could they possibly have gone? This was an open beach, not some sort of maze.
Clara gave a loud groan of frustration as she kicked at the ground beneath her feet, sending a spray of dirt and pebbles into the air. It wasn't fair. She had gotten so close to getting back at those two assholes, and they had slipped out of her fingers at the last moment. Not that anything would have prevented this from being the worst day of her life, but you'd think that she was due for at least something to go her way.
A quick scan of the horizon revealed the promising sign of a male and a female figure in the distance, though as she got closer it became obvious that it wasn't the duo that she was looking for. The threatening poses that they seemed to be in were already giving her flashbacks to her encounter earlier in the day, though with her experience she wasn't about to get burned a second time. She kept a hand near her waistband as she approached, ready to pull out her weapon at the slightest sign of trouble.
"Yo, I don't mean to interrupt whatever you two have going on here, but did either of you happen to see a pair of slippery-looking bastards run through here carrying a bunch of bags?"
There probably was a better way to have phrased that, but she didn't really care - as far as she was concerned, pretending that she actually gave a damn about interrupting anything was more polite than she needed to be already. Besides, she was still far enough away that she'd be able to easily make an exit if they decided to make this more...difficult than it needed to be.
Jevaun wandered away from the village, two bags slung from his shoulder. His right hand aching whilst holding his gun. Aching from the pressure it had given him as he fired loose at his assailants at the church. And aching from something else.
It had taken hours for the thought to set in for Jevaun that he had shot at other people. It had blanked out in his mind when the bullets were flying, someone throwing rocks at them, watching Jesus fall to pieces in the church.
And in return, he'd hit one. The scream that had come out from it, people running away. It would all stay with him through the hours past as he wandered away. All he wanted was a place to stay. Get his bearings and find out what is going on. Now the person that had stayed with him from the start was dead, and someone else might be at his hands.
Was he right? Were they all criminals taken to fight it out? He had only tagged walls and corners on the street for art, was that enough for him to deserve this? Were theirs more severe since they seemed to be all game for this shit?
Whatever's the case, he was not going to be caught out like that again. He hadn't gotten a good look at the shooter's outside of those he'd manage to hit, so anyone he could meet could be George's killer.
Stepping across the field outside the village past the small coops and dilapidated houses left behind. Past the harbor that sat at the side of it. Jevaun decided to make his way towards the east. He needed to be far away from the village where people seemed to be congregating. Maybe the small vestiges of familiarity and safety a village could provide?
For him, that had been broken and it would take a lot to make him step close to that place again.
Trees came into view for Jevaun. Trees that formed a line with some barely viewable paths in between the bushes helped make up the line. Snaking his way towards one past the flora let him see the shoreline that lied past.
And the people that stood on it.
Jevaun stayed quiet as he watched these people. Keeping his distance in case any of them were the ones from the village.
It had taken hours for the thought to set in for Jevaun that he had shot at other people. It had blanked out in his mind when the bullets were flying, someone throwing rocks at them, watching Jesus fall to pieces in the church.
And in return, he'd hit one. The scream that had come out from it, people running away. It would all stay with him through the hours past as he wandered away. All he wanted was a place to stay. Get his bearings and find out what is going on. Now the person that had stayed with him from the start was dead, and someone else might be at his hands.
Was he right? Were they all criminals taken to fight it out? He had only tagged walls and corners on the street for art, was that enough for him to deserve this? Were theirs more severe since they seemed to be all game for this shit?
Whatever's the case, he was not going to be caught out like that again. He hadn't gotten a good look at the shooter's outside of those he'd manage to hit, so anyone he could meet could be George's killer.
Stepping across the field outside the village past the small coops and dilapidated houses left behind. Past the harbor that sat at the side of it. Jevaun decided to make his way towards the east. He needed to be far away from the village where people seemed to be congregating. Maybe the small vestiges of familiarity and safety a village could provide?
For him, that had been broken and it would take a lot to make him step close to that place again.
Trees came into view for Jevaun. Trees that formed a line with some barely viewable paths in between the bushes helped make up the line. Snaking his way towards one past the flora let him see the shoreline that lied past.
And the people that stood on it.
Jevaun stayed quiet as he watched these people. Keeping his distance in case any of them were the ones from the village.
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Dogs231
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He seemed to have misjudged her - she appeared more intelligent and reasonable than he had initially assumed. He was glad that she could now understand his motivation - though he would have preferred few others learnt of the initial robbery. He was aware that such knowledge could put him at a perceived disadvantage. He nodded at her as she called her question strange - it was, but everything was wrong here.
"Yeah, right on the mark there. Some fucking coward got a head start, and she was rifling through my pack before I even woke up. Not fun, let me tell you - and not bloody fair either."
He felt that it was different than what he did - he at least had made his presence known and let them keep what they rightfully had. He at least had a reason to do it. He at least didn't stoop to robbing people while they slept. He briefly turned his head as he continued to think - and watched as another girl arrived.
He saw that she was shorter than him, with dark brown hair, and she was wearing an orange shirt. He heard what she was saying - she wanted information about a pair, carrying bags. He looked at her for a moment and noticed how she kept her hand near her side - he inferred that she had a weapon, perhaps even a gun. He concluded that it would be unwise to go against her will - his bluff was useless in this situation.
"It depends - do you have a description? I might be able to help you."
He was not lying - and he had no reason to. He felt that the possibility of their having a mutual enemy was strong - if he wanted to live, he believed it would be wise to make as few enemies as possible. He perceived that the common ground would form a solid foundation for trust.
He knew that if he could manipulate the situation to his advantage, his chances of survival would grow.
"Yeah, right on the mark there. Some fucking coward got a head start, and she was rifling through my pack before I even woke up. Not fun, let me tell you - and not bloody fair either."
He felt that it was different than what he did - he at least had made his presence known and let them keep what they rightfully had. He at least had a reason to do it. He at least didn't stoop to robbing people while they slept. He briefly turned his head as he continued to think - and watched as another girl arrived.
He saw that she was shorter than him, with dark brown hair, and she was wearing an orange shirt. He heard what she was saying - she wanted information about a pair, carrying bags. He looked at her for a moment and noticed how she kept her hand near her side - he inferred that she had a weapon, perhaps even a gun. He concluded that it would be unwise to go against her will - his bluff was useless in this situation.
"It depends - do you have a description? I might be able to help you."
He was not lying - and he had no reason to. He felt that the possibility of their having a mutual enemy was strong - if he wanted to live, he believed it would be wise to make as few enemies as possible. He perceived that the common ground would form a solid foundation for trust.
He knew that if he could manipulate the situation to his advantage, his chances of survival would grow.
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Applesintime
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"Aye, sounds like a wee bitch then. What's she look like? I'd rather not get my shit stolen by some wee bitch like her. Jesus fuckin' Christ, you think people wouldn't just jump to all this murderin' and stealin' just because some wee English prick says so. Bet you these collars don't even fuckin' work. Man's words are as empty as his fuckin' dick." Deirbhile scoffed. Right, she sorta got the Brit's motivations now, and like, fair play lad, she wasn't gonna go after him. Still didn't like the gun being pointed at her, like, but she didn't get shot, didn't end up like that lad there, and y'know what? That was good enough.
And then there was someone behind them, and Deirbhile twisted around, raising her drawer in defence before realising that no, this girl wasn't gonna be a threat. She asked a question; there were more fucking people going round and taking other people's shit? Jesus fuck. It was just a pure asshole move, like, what happened to all that comradery and solidarity people should have with one another? They'd all went around stealing and killing and it was sorta disheartening, like.
Maybe it was something to emulate. Sure, it would be an asshole move, but she didn't wanna die here, on some island in the ocean of fucking nowhere. But, nah, she couldn't bring herself to kill someone, Deirbhile thought. It was sorta disturbing to think that someone, without any provocation or anything, had raised a gun and blasted a sizeable hole in that lad's head. She sorely hoped she never got the meet them, so she did.
"Haven't seen anythin'. Only a wee prick from Malaysia with a penchant for fuckin' smackin' wee girls in the head with a rock. If you see him, give him a good fuckin' kick in the nuts and run away." Tapping at that cut on her head for emphasis, Deirbhile lowered the desk drawer. "Aye, what'd they look like? Where'd they sound like they come from?" It was clear that all the people here had been taken from all across the world, for some fucking reason. Australia, Malaysia, Ireland, England at the least. Didn't make a fucking lick of sense.
And then there was someone behind them, and Deirbhile twisted around, raising her drawer in defence before realising that no, this girl wasn't gonna be a threat. She asked a question; there were more fucking people going round and taking other people's shit? Jesus fuck. It was just a pure asshole move, like, what happened to all that comradery and solidarity people should have with one another? They'd all went around stealing and killing and it was sorta disheartening, like.
Maybe it was something to emulate. Sure, it would be an asshole move, but she didn't wanna die here, on some island in the ocean of fucking nowhere. But, nah, she couldn't bring herself to kill someone, Deirbhile thought. It was sorta disturbing to think that someone, without any provocation or anything, had raised a gun and blasted a sizeable hole in that lad's head. She sorely hoped she never got the meet them, so she did.
"Haven't seen anythin'. Only a wee prick from Malaysia with a penchant for fuckin' smackin' wee girls in the head with a rock. If you see him, give him a good fuckin' kick in the nuts and run away." Tapping at that cut on her head for emphasis, Deirbhile lowered the desk drawer. "Aye, what'd they look like? Where'd they sound like they come from?" It was clear that all the people here had been taken from all across the world, for some fucking reason. Australia, Malaysia, Ireland, England at the least. Didn't make a fucking lick of sense.
A slight grin began to spread its way across Clara's face as her conversation partner lowered the desk drawer.. She liked this girl already - it wasn't often that you got to meet somebody so straightforward. It'd be a good idea to make a mental note to be wary of any Malaysians - or at least it would be if she knew anything about what Malaysians looked or sounded like. Who would have thought that she'd one day regret not paying attention in geography class... it must definitely be snowing in hell right now.
Anyway, best not to keep them waiting.
"Well, to keep things short, one of them's a skinny bitch wearing a pink shirt and white ballcap, and the other one's a shrimpy asian boy who's like, her lackey or something. They've got a bunch of bags between them, so they've must have robbed at least a couple people already." She paused for a moment, her neck craning back to look at the sky for a moment as she scratched her head. "I'm not sure where they're from, but they don't sound like either of you, if that means anything."
The fact that neither of her conversation partners looked about to pull a gun was somewhat comforting, but she wasn't about to let her guard down just yet. She'd been tricked once already, and she'd never be able to live it down if she allowed herself to just walk into the same trap twice - assuming that she survived long enough to regret it.
She squinted as she looked over the pair, on the lookout for any sudden movements. Given that none seemed forthcoming, it probably couldn't hurt to keep them talking.
"So, er, speaking of coming from places, where are the two of you from, anyway? I'm from Malta, myself."
Anyway, best not to keep them waiting.
"Well, to keep things short, one of them's a skinny bitch wearing a pink shirt and white ballcap, and the other one's a shrimpy asian boy who's like, her lackey or something. They've got a bunch of bags between them, so they've must have robbed at least a couple people already." She paused for a moment, her neck craning back to look at the sky for a moment as she scratched her head. "I'm not sure where they're from, but they don't sound like either of you, if that means anything."
The fact that neither of her conversation partners looked about to pull a gun was somewhat comforting, but she wasn't about to let her guard down just yet. She'd been tricked once already, and she'd never be able to live it down if she allowed herself to just walk into the same trap twice - assuming that she survived long enough to regret it.
She squinted as she looked over the pair, on the lookout for any sudden movements. Given that none seemed forthcoming, it probably couldn't hurt to keep them talking.
"So, er, speaking of coming from places, where are the two of you from, anyway? I'm from Malta, myself."
Snippets of conversation carried by the wind. Robbers running about stealing bags. Probably had guns with them... could they be from the village?
He had to know.
Jevaun crept closer to the crew that had formed in front of him. Slowly and carefully, with deliberate steps. If only so he could hear what was said more clearly.
He had to know.
Jevaun crept closer to the crew that had formed in front of him. Slowly and carefully, with deliberate steps. If only so he could hear what was said more clearly.
Jevaun listened carefully for details, but the conversation had moved to places he did not care for. He did not trust these people, nor would he after George. He did not see the point in staying there anymore.
He slithered away in the grass, far away from the group that had formed on the shore.
He slithered away in the grass, far away from the group that had formed on the shore.
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Dogs231
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He was glad that Deirbhile had begun to see his perspective, though he cared little for the brief rant that followed - though the comment regarding the collars piqued his interest slightly. He turned his head to look at her and craned it in the process. He then placed his left hand against the side of the collar and smirked.
"What do you bet the fuckers ripped the idea from Saw or something? Live or die, make your choice, all that shit."
He snickered for a moment, though even this felt half-hearted and rang hollow in his ears. He perked up once more when the other girl - who identified herself as from Malta - described the two thieves, one of whom aligned with his memories of the morning. His smirk widened, an idea forming in his mind - this was a situation he could use to his advantage.
"Quite a coincidence, isn't it? That girl is the same fucker who robbed me earlier. Oh, and I'm from England if you haven't guessed already."
He double-checked his mental math to ensure it was correct and then smiled confidently. His theory was simple - by forming a non-aggression pact, the three of them would each stand to gain. He knew that it would ensure that two potential threats no longer had a reason to attack him - therefore increasing his probability of survival. He also saw an opportunity to regain what he had lost - and gain a powerful weapon, with which he could tilt the results in his favour.
"Say, I have an idea - take just a moment to hear me out. My bag is number twenty-eight. If you think back to the briefing, there couldn't have been much more than thirty-odd people. We know two of them, if not more, are dead - the American and him over there. That leaves us with somewhere in the region of twenty-eight or so people, including us."
He had not counted the exact number - the grim execution of the first casualty had prevented him from keeping his wits together long enough to do so, and so he only had a rough estimate. He shuddered at the thought of the two casualties - he preferred not to think about the origin of the blood that had sprayed across his windbreaker or the other corpse's ruined skull.
"If we agree to an alliance or simple non-aggression, our chances go up. So I propose we work together and maybe trace the fucker while we're at it. And if not - at least steer clear of each other."
He smiled amiably and hoped that the others would see the value in his proposal.
"What do you bet the fuckers ripped the idea from Saw or something? Live or die, make your choice, all that shit."
He snickered for a moment, though even this felt half-hearted and rang hollow in his ears. He perked up once more when the other girl - who identified herself as from Malta - described the two thieves, one of whom aligned with his memories of the morning. His smirk widened, an idea forming in his mind - this was a situation he could use to his advantage.
"Quite a coincidence, isn't it? That girl is the same fucker who robbed me earlier. Oh, and I'm from England if you haven't guessed already."
He double-checked his mental math to ensure it was correct and then smiled confidently. His theory was simple - by forming a non-aggression pact, the three of them would each stand to gain. He knew that it would ensure that two potential threats no longer had a reason to attack him - therefore increasing his probability of survival. He also saw an opportunity to regain what he had lost - and gain a powerful weapon, with which he could tilt the results in his favour.
"Say, I have an idea - take just a moment to hear me out. My bag is number twenty-eight. If you think back to the briefing, there couldn't have been much more than thirty-odd people. We know two of them, if not more, are dead - the American and him over there. That leaves us with somewhere in the region of twenty-eight or so people, including us."
He had not counted the exact number - the grim execution of the first casualty had prevented him from keeping his wits together long enough to do so, and so he only had a rough estimate. He shuddered at the thought of the two casualties - he preferred not to think about the origin of the blood that had sprayed across his windbreaker or the other corpse's ruined skull.
"If we agree to an alliance or simple non-aggression, our chances go up. So I propose we work together and maybe trace the fucker while we're at it. And if not - at least steer clear of each other."
He smiled amiably and hoped that the others would see the value in his proposal.
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
"I'm from Ireland." Ireland. Malta. England, America, Australia, Singapore or Malaysia, this didn't make any sense. Taking them from one continent, like, made sense. That was what, four on its own? Asia, Europe, North America and Oceania. Didn't make any sense, like. But she wasn't gonna like, deconstruct the fuckers who kidnapped them's obsession with taking multiple kids from different places and all that. She had more important things, and so she nodded faintly at the Brit's proposal, before realising what it is.
"Right, no offense to yous, but I've known you all for about like, an hour tops, and I'm not gonna trust yous when you could very well just slit my throat in my sleep and walk off with my bag. I'm open to the idea of like, all saying aye, let's not kill each other, but I don't trust yous enough. Sorry." She shrugged. Truth be told, she didn't know if this whole thing would stick, because the Brit could just pop them with the gun and they weren't gonna do shit, but then the Maltese - was that the right word? - had a gun as well and like, stuff could go wrong real fast if they decided they didn't like each other.
The lad on the beach with his head blown off was in her peripheral.
She wasn't going to be able to kill anyone, was she? Just looking at the lad on the beach with his head blown off, made her feel all sick inside. Sure, she was chomping at the bit to kill that lad, but no, she probably wouldn't have been able to go through with it, she was just pissed at him. Amy always thought she was like, cool, and protective and strong and the like, but really, people just didn't mess with her because she was big and tall and played camogie. But Da was still sorta fucked up from that guy he shot - even if it was like, legitimate. Killing another person just because terrorists wanted you to? Lot harder.
"Aye, sounds good. I'll, uh, see yous later, then." Deirbhile knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go home, but that wasn't too likely, what with the wee prick saying that they all had to die and only one of them could go home. And versus people with guns and shit, what chance did she have with just a desk drawer? She'd figure something out on the way to wherever she went. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and walked into the woods.
((Deirbhile Callahan concluded elsewhere))
"Right, no offense to yous, but I've known you all for about like, an hour tops, and I'm not gonna trust yous when you could very well just slit my throat in my sleep and walk off with my bag. I'm open to the idea of like, all saying aye, let's not kill each other, but I don't trust yous enough. Sorry." She shrugged. Truth be told, she didn't know if this whole thing would stick, because the Brit could just pop them with the gun and they weren't gonna do shit, but then the Maltese - was that the right word? - had a gun as well and like, stuff could go wrong real fast if they decided they didn't like each other.
The lad on the beach with his head blown off was in her peripheral.
She wasn't going to be able to kill anyone, was she? Just looking at the lad on the beach with his head blown off, made her feel all sick inside. Sure, she was chomping at the bit to kill that lad, but no, she probably wouldn't have been able to go through with it, she was just pissed at him. Amy always thought she was like, cool, and protective and strong and the like, but really, people just didn't mess with her because she was big and tall and played camogie. But Da was still sorta fucked up from that guy he shot - even if it was like, legitimate. Killing another person just because terrorists wanted you to? Lot harder.
"Aye, sounds good. I'll, uh, see yous later, then." Deirbhile knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go home, but that wasn't too likely, what with the wee prick saying that they all had to die and only one of them could go home. And versus people with guns and shit, what chance did she have with just a desk drawer? She'd figure something out on the way to wherever she went. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and walked into the woods.
((Deirbhile Callahan concluded elsewhere))
Clara felt a brief twinge of disappointment as she watched the Irish girl leave. It was probably the smart decision, of course, (and it confirmed that this all wasn't some sort of elaborate trick like before) but it still stung to run into someone who seemed like a cool person to have around. Maybe in another lifetime the two of them might have been friends, but for now the best they seemed to be able to get was not actively trying to kill each other. Even so, it still sucked that they didn't even have time to get each others' names.
A moment of silence passed before she turned to her remaining conversation partner. Despite not standing out nearly as much as Captain Desk-Drawer, he seemed at to at least have a decent head on his shoulders. Teamwork wasn't a bad idea, even if at the end they'd have to...
Clara swallowed hard as she re-orientated her thoughts toward the present moment. She'd cross that bridge when she got there, but for now there was something more important ahead - revenge. That bag may have been stolen only a couple hours after she received it, and it may have been provided by a team of murderous psychopaths, but it was hers, damn it! She took a deep breath, turning her head to glance back into the woods before back to the boy.
"I think that sounds like a good deal."
She extended her hand, waiting for a moment before flashing a quick grin.
"My name's Clara, by the way. You don't happen to have a weapon on you, by any chance?"
A moment of silence passed before she turned to her remaining conversation partner. Despite not standing out nearly as much as Captain Desk-Drawer, he seemed at to at least have a decent head on his shoulders. Teamwork wasn't a bad idea, even if at the end they'd have to...
Clara swallowed hard as she re-orientated her thoughts toward the present moment. She'd cross that bridge when she got there, but for now there was something more important ahead - revenge. That bag may have been stolen only a couple hours after she received it, and it may have been provided by a team of murderous psychopaths, but it was hers, damn it! She took a deep breath, turning her head to glance back into the woods before back to the boy.
"I think that sounds like a good deal."
She extended her hand, waiting for a moment before flashing a quick grin.
"My name's Clara, by the way. You don't happen to have a weapon on you, by any chance?"
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Dogs231
- Posts: 607
- Joined: Mon Oct 12, 2020 6:45 pm
- Location: The Pear Wiggler
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
He placed his hands against the log and pushed himself to a stand. He had secured for himself an ally and one who - for the moment - shared with him a common goal. He expected that this would provide enough motivation to keep him alive.
He flashed a weak, closed-mouth smile in return, then gripped her hand and shook slightly. He had secured the deal, and she had introduced herself with what he assumed to be her name - he decided to return this act of trust with sincerity, though doubt remained in his mind. He hesitated for a moment and then spoke.
"My name is Alexander."
He didn't want to speak or think about his name - the idea of it brought back memories of home, of which even the good had become painful to him. He felt that it was better to ignore the thoughts and push forward, to focus on the here-and-now and what laid ahead.
"And no, I don't - not a half-decent one, at least. The girl stole my pistol from me, but it's not like anyone else has to know that."
He saw no reason not to confide in her the truth, as she would learn sooner or later regardless. He knew that deceit had served him well, but he saw no incentive to lie to an ally - not when his lack of a weapon provided more reason to focus on their mutual foe.
His eyes drifted around the shoreline and occasionally returned to the remains on the rocky sand. He stared at the bag beside the dead body - which another seemed to have already rifled through. He turned his attention from his ally, grabbed the strap of his stolen pack, and walked towards it. He tried to ignore the fact that the corpse had once been a living and breathing person like he was. He knelt beside the canvas bag - which carried the label O09 - and carefully looked inside. He left the map and compass and carefully removed two items - a two-litre bottle of water and what appeared to be a meal replacement drink. He unzipped his bag, placed the two items inside, and then closed it.
He looked up towards the overcast sky for a moment - noticed the dark clouds gathering above, and concluded that the rain would soon begin. He then turned back to Clara - the two of them should look for a place to wait out the coming downpour.
"We should start moving. I think that it's going to rain soon - we should try and find cover. I'm not keen on getting stuck out here in the cold."
He swung the canvas bag around his shoulder and began to walk - in almost every direction they should be able to find solace.
(He went to There'll Always Be an England.)
He flashed a weak, closed-mouth smile in return, then gripped her hand and shook slightly. He had secured the deal, and she had introduced herself with what he assumed to be her name - he decided to return this act of trust with sincerity, though doubt remained in his mind. He hesitated for a moment and then spoke.
"My name is Alexander."
He didn't want to speak or think about his name - the idea of it brought back memories of home, of which even the good had become painful to him. He felt that it was better to ignore the thoughts and push forward, to focus on the here-and-now and what laid ahead.
"And no, I don't - not a half-decent one, at least. The girl stole my pistol from me, but it's not like anyone else has to know that."
He saw no reason not to confide in her the truth, as she would learn sooner or later regardless. He knew that deceit had served him well, but he saw no incentive to lie to an ally - not when his lack of a weapon provided more reason to focus on their mutual foe.
His eyes drifted around the shoreline and occasionally returned to the remains on the rocky sand. He stared at the bag beside the dead body - which another seemed to have already rifled through. He turned his attention from his ally, grabbed the strap of his stolen pack, and walked towards it. He tried to ignore the fact that the corpse had once been a living and breathing person like he was. He knelt beside the canvas bag - which carried the label O09 - and carefully looked inside. He left the map and compass and carefully removed two items - a two-litre bottle of water and what appeared to be a meal replacement drink. He unzipped his bag, placed the two items inside, and then closed it.
He looked up towards the overcast sky for a moment - noticed the dark clouds gathering above, and concluded that the rain would soon begin. He then turned back to Clara - the two of them should look for a place to wait out the coming downpour.
"We should start moving. I think that it's going to rain soon - we should try and find cover. I'm not keen on getting stuck out here in the cold."
He swung the canvas bag around his shoulder and began to walk - in almost every direction they should be able to find solace.
(He went to There'll Always Be an England.)