"Muhhhhh...."
Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?
How long had he been laying on the ground, the world a mess of colors and shapes, blood leaking from his nose?
"Muhh...."
Jonas rolled to the side, spitting, tasting the coppery scent that he knew was blood. His own blood. His nose was-, well, he hadn't ever broken his nose before. But he imagined it felt quite like it did just then. He spit again, his memory swimming together.
Gunshots. He'd been stupid, rushed in, started firing his gun. The room- he was stuck in the room and he couldn't leave. Why the hell was that? The door locked? No... No, the boy, the boy who'd punched him in the face. Motherfucker wanted to kill him.
Had he?
No. No, he was alive, scared stiff, wounded, but for some reason or the other, Vincent had left him alone. There was someone else. Someone yanking at his gun- his gun! His eyes went wide before he noticed, stupidly, his weapon was in his hand.
Strange.
To say the least.
Jonas groaned and sat up, closing his eyes and watching lights dance in front of him. He steadied himself-, he'd been knocked down before, and he knew not to rush it. Dried blood caked his nose and he gingerly raised a hand to brush it off. If he got up too soon, he'd just go down again. There was no rush. No rush at all.
Jonas opened his eyes and screamed, backpedaling away toward the other end of the room. He didn't stop until he hit the opposite wall, and his screams didn't subside until a bit after.
There was a dead boy in the room.
WHAT IN THE FUCK HAPPENED WHEN I WAS OUT.
He did a quick survey of the room, his bag, still over by the bed. Blood where he'd fallen, blood where the boy'd fallen. Gunshots all up the wall, his doing. His heart was beating fast. Carefully he stepped over, looking at the fallen boy.
Isaac King.
"Muggerfugger..." He mumbled, his swollen nose making his words hard to hear.
Isaac King, a kid from Detroit. Had he done this? The kid was riddled with bullet holes, but he remembered emptying his Uzi trying to hit Vincent... Vincent. Vincent had killed him with the Uzi? But HE still had the Uzi. And his things were still there- did Vincent assume he'd killed him, went off with Isaac's things? It made little sense, but he went with it. His rattled brain couldn't take much more. All he knew was he was alive, and that meant he still had a shot at the game.
"Fugg..."
Bullet holes, in his chest and his head. What was left of the head. It was a gruesome sight and Jonas felt like his stomach was doing flips just looking. He turned back to his bag, emptying the spent clip and grabbing another one from his pack.
"Y-yoou wamba play 'wuff? D'okay!" He stammered. Scarface had always been one of his favorite films, it was an ill timed joke now, with a dead boy mere feet away, but he was set on trying anything to calm his pulse.
Awkwardly he tried to insert the clip. Backwards. He flipped it around, trying again, hearing a click.
Okay- okayokayokay, what now? Click and then there's the kh-chk noise, how do I make the kh-chk noise?
" 'ow doo I make the muggafuggin' kh-chg noibs?!"
Frustrated he pulled out the manual, spreading it open on the bed. Carefully, double-checking every step, he loaded the gun with a fresh clip, clicking the safety on for the time being. He was in the midst of packing his back and wiping his swollen noise when a thought hit him.
Teams. They were all on teams. Who was Isaac with?
Jonas turned, examining the mutilated corpse once more.
"OH D'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOES." He groaned loudly, spotting the pink heart bandanna. It was soaked in Isaac's blood, barely sticking out from underneath his fallen form. But it was unmistakable. They'd been on teams of five-, Vincent had killed one of his team members. Jonas could trust only five people on the island, himself and the rest of his team. But now it was down to three. Three unknown teammates, his only ticket home.
Vincent. Vincent had killed Isaac.
Well it was fucking on then.
CLICK.
Jonas raised the gun, shouldered his pack. No time for philosophical discussion, it was kill or be killed. Jonas wasn't about to lay down and fucking die, no matter what anyone told him. He had an entire life left to live, and if Vincent and his new weapon decided to stand in his way- well tough shit, he was going down.
"Gil'em 'awl, led Gawd sordem out." He muttered, striding toward the doorwaaaaaa-
Jonas went down, slipping and falling sideways in a pile of puke. He screamed in disgust, picking himself up, trying to wipe the vile liquid off his pants. Ruined.
Oh, Vincent was going to get it now.
Jonas took off the hall, gun first. No more barreling in, asking questions, no more playing nice, no more wondering. He was going to fucking kill some bitches, and he was going to start with Vincent Sullivan.
Magical Bunny Girl Warrior Sidney-Chan
Start of YLW3
-
Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
-
Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
(short moving it along post)
Nick was standing on the balcony. He couldn't tell where he was on the ship from where he was. Crap, he really needed to find the others. Hopefully Issac and Michael were okay. They better not die on him.
Nick was standing on the balcony. He couldn't tell where he was on the ship from where he was. Crap, he really needed to find the others. Hopefully Issac and Michael were okay. They better not die on him.
-
Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Jonas stalked down the hallway, his bag bouncing noisily off his back. He was panting heavily, he'd been walking for God knew how long and there was no sign of Vincent. He wanted to yell out, but if Vincent had a gun now, that'd just be a great way to set up a trap. No, he had a much better plan.
Shoot first, ask questions later and act sporadically. Vincent probably figured he was either crying like a bitch or rip roaring mad at Isaac being dead a few inches from him. He was the latter, and that meant he was prone to making mistakes in his quest for revenge. Like yelling out, or not checking corners, all that fun stuff. But the thing was, if Jonas was also aware of that, it was HIM with the advantage.
Somehow.
The plan was to get a clear shot and then blow Vincent's bastardly fucking brains out. That was it, no flourish, no hesitance. He wouldn't expect anything close to that, especially the way Jonas had been playing earlier. He was going to make mistakes, but if he moved fast and had a ready trigger finger, he'd catch Vincent by surprise for sure.
A flash of movement, I go in, I shoot. I shoot, I kill'em, fuckin' kill him, yeah, yeah that's a good plan, can't fail gotta be careful, but good plan.
He was terrified, but that wasn't anything new. He'd been in dangerous situations before. Treading in the wrong turf, hell, just a few moments ago he was laying bleeding on the ground. His nose was still swollen, but that didn't stop him from being fast on his feet. He bolted around the corners, his eyes scanning all possible areas, searching for Vincent.
You cowardly fuck you stupid fuck I'll get you, I'll fucking get you I'll get you I'll get you-
A door. Outside. He'd woken up inside the ship, and hadn't even gotten a chance to look at the surrounding territory. Was it the entire Island they were playing on? Could the ship even be accessed from the Island, or were the others still running around? Was Vincent on the mainland now?
So many questions. One track mind. Kill Vincent. Kill him dead.
He hurried along the path, looking into rooms, stopping only long enough to check the blind spots. He didn't want Vincent to sneak up on him, and his paranoia told him that the other boy had set a trap. He wasn't about to-
There! As Jonas looked in the room he spotted movement outside a window, out on the balcony. Vincent. He'd caught him with his pants down and now it was time for revenge. Jonas smiled despite everything. He raised up his Uzi, checking to make sure the safety was off. Carefully he made his way into the room.
Got you now you little shit...
Jonas treaded carefully, hesitant and checking the corners. As far as he could tell Vincent was still out there, still not aware of his presence. It didn't SEEM like a trap, but he still needed that clean shot. He stepped forward again.
The boy appeared in view. Jonas' eyes went straight to his hand, holding- a gun! He was holding a gun, just like he'd thought! Jonas raised up his weapon. Now was the time for action, he wasn't about to let Vincent get the drop on him, not with a huge-ass hand cannon like that.
He opened his mouth, ready to say a witty one liner. Of course, he hadn't bothered to think of one on the way over. A simple "Fuck you Vincent!" would have done just fine, but he faltered as his finger met the trigger.
Wait I don't think that's Vi-
But it was too late. He'd twitched, and the gun opened up, drowning out his thoughts and shouts.
Shoot first, ask questions later and act sporadically. Vincent probably figured he was either crying like a bitch or rip roaring mad at Isaac being dead a few inches from him. He was the latter, and that meant he was prone to making mistakes in his quest for revenge. Like yelling out, or not checking corners, all that fun stuff. But the thing was, if Jonas was also aware of that, it was HIM with the advantage.
Somehow.
The plan was to get a clear shot and then blow Vincent's bastardly fucking brains out. That was it, no flourish, no hesitance. He wouldn't expect anything close to that, especially the way Jonas had been playing earlier. He was going to make mistakes, but if he moved fast and had a ready trigger finger, he'd catch Vincent by surprise for sure.
A flash of movement, I go in, I shoot. I shoot, I kill'em, fuckin' kill him, yeah, yeah that's a good plan, can't fail gotta be careful, but good plan.
He was terrified, but that wasn't anything new. He'd been in dangerous situations before. Treading in the wrong turf, hell, just a few moments ago he was laying bleeding on the ground. His nose was still swollen, but that didn't stop him from being fast on his feet. He bolted around the corners, his eyes scanning all possible areas, searching for Vincent.
You cowardly fuck you stupid fuck I'll get you, I'll fucking get you I'll get you I'll get you-
A door. Outside. He'd woken up inside the ship, and hadn't even gotten a chance to look at the surrounding territory. Was it the entire Island they were playing on? Could the ship even be accessed from the Island, or were the others still running around? Was Vincent on the mainland now?
So many questions. One track mind. Kill Vincent. Kill him dead.
He hurried along the path, looking into rooms, stopping only long enough to check the blind spots. He didn't want Vincent to sneak up on him, and his paranoia told him that the other boy had set a trap. He wasn't about to-
There! As Jonas looked in the room he spotted movement outside a window, out on the balcony. Vincent. He'd caught him with his pants down and now it was time for revenge. Jonas smiled despite everything. He raised up his Uzi, checking to make sure the safety was off. Carefully he made his way into the room.
Got you now you little shit...
Jonas treaded carefully, hesitant and checking the corners. As far as he could tell Vincent was still out there, still not aware of his presence. It didn't SEEM like a trap, but he still needed that clean shot. He stepped forward again.
The boy appeared in view. Jonas' eyes went straight to his hand, holding- a gun! He was holding a gun, just like he'd thought! Jonas raised up his weapon. Now was the time for action, he wasn't about to let Vincent get the drop on him, not with a huge-ass hand cannon like that.
He opened his mouth, ready to say a witty one liner. Of course, he hadn't bothered to think of one on the way over. A simple "Fuck you Vincent!" would have done just fine, but he faltered as his finger met the trigger.
Wait I don't think that's Vi-
But it was too late. He'd twitched, and the gun opened up, drowning out his thoughts and shouts.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
-
Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
Nick turned around. Time to keep searching. His power drill was still in his hand, accidentally pointed at the doorway, when he spotted Jonas. "He-"
Bullets shot from the gun into his body. The burning pain entered in his belly in multiple places, with others in his right leg and shoulder. He was stumbling backwards. He had been shot! Shot!
His leg hit the knee height balcony behind him, causing him to lose his balance. The next moment he falling backwards in the air towards the ocean. The fall seemed to take forever, but that was probably just an effect of having been shot multiple times.
Splash.
BRN1: SIMMONS, NICK: DECEASED
Bullets shot from the gun into his body. The burning pain entered in his belly in multiple places, with others in his right leg and shoulder. He was stumbling backwards. He had been shot! Shot!
His leg hit the knee height balcony behind him, causing him to lose his balance. The next moment he falling backwards in the air towards the ocean. The fall seemed to take forever, but that was probably just an effect of having been shot multiple times.
Splash.
BRN1: SIMMONS, NICK: DECEASED
He heard more gunfire and feared the worst. He still needed something better than what he was currently holding, but the ship was starting to freak him out. There was at least one dead person on the ship, and quite possibly more. As luck would have it however, he discovered the kitchens and decided to do what he came to the ship for.
It had been cleaned well. There was nothing useful in plain sight, nor was there any food to be had. Michael began opening every cupboard and drawer, hoping to luck out and find something of use. It seemed like an eternity had gone by, but at the back of a drawer he discovered what appeared to be a forgotten chef's knife. It was not as imposing as a cleaver would be, but it was quite easy to hold and use. It was also very utilitarian and would suit his purposes well. He looked at his butter knife and decided that he'd keep it after all, never knowing when an extra bit of metal would come in handy.
Michael fished a bottle of water out of his bag and adjusted his affects as he made his way out of the kitchen. Though a large part of him wanted to leave the ship, a small part in the back of his brain told him to stay for a bit. He was tired and the ship was equipped with cabins and locking doors. He could get a little rest and then head out. He drank a little water as he walked, his mind still processing.
Yes, people have just died here, but Vincent has already fled the ship, and something tells me that whoever fired those shots will want to leave soon. Thus it stands to reason that I'll have the ship to myself for a short time at least. That old bit about surviving a forest fire by standing where the fire has already torn through? I think that applies here as well.
As he slipped into a room and locked himself in, he conceded that he really needed some sleep, and the ship was the most convenient place to do that, if not the safest for the moment. Besides, the lock was good, and if it didn't keep people out, it would at least give him some advance warning. Michael laid upon the bed, which to his surprise had been made up and was quite comfortable.
I suppose it looks better for the viewers to ha...
Michael didn't even finish his thought before he drifted into sleep.
It had been cleaned well. There was nothing useful in plain sight, nor was there any food to be had. Michael began opening every cupboard and drawer, hoping to luck out and find something of use. It seemed like an eternity had gone by, but at the back of a drawer he discovered what appeared to be a forgotten chef's knife. It was not as imposing as a cleaver would be, but it was quite easy to hold and use. It was also very utilitarian and would suit his purposes well. He looked at his butter knife and decided that he'd keep it after all, never knowing when an extra bit of metal would come in handy.
Michael fished a bottle of water out of his bag and adjusted his affects as he made his way out of the kitchen. Though a large part of him wanted to leave the ship, a small part in the back of his brain told him to stay for a bit. He was tired and the ship was equipped with cabins and locking doors. He could get a little rest and then head out. He drank a little water as he walked, his mind still processing.
Yes, people have just died here, but Vincent has already fled the ship, and something tells me that whoever fired those shots will want to leave soon. Thus it stands to reason that I'll have the ship to myself for a short time at least. That old bit about surviving a forest fire by standing where the fire has already torn through? I think that applies here as well.
As he slipped into a room and locked himself in, he conceded that he really needed some sleep, and the ship was the most convenient place to do that, if not the safest for the moment. Besides, the lock was good, and if it didn't keep people out, it would at least give him some advance warning. Michael laid upon the bed, which to his surprise had been made up and was quite comfortable.
I suppose it looks better for the viewers to ha...
Michael didn't even finish his thought before he drifted into sleep.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler zabriel. 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.
-
Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Jonas stared over the balcony.
The boy had dropped out of sight, plummeted down into the water below. Jonas didn't know how high up he was, but he doubted the kid would be able to swim with bullets in him. The surface of the water was silent. There was no thrashing, no struggle.
Oh... Oh fuck... Can he swim? I... I don't think he can swim. Yeah. He's fucked. Whoever that guy was, he's totally fucked.
His eyes were wide. He looked around, expecting to see a witness to his crime. He'd dropped his Uzi on the bed in the room and he retreated back to it, snapping the safety back on.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
He'd shot someone. It hadn't been Vincent. Now, he was feeling the panic. He was a murderer now. There was truly no going back.
OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!
"Guahhhh!!" He shouted, shouldering his bag and stumbling back out of the room. He didn't know where he was going, but he was wasting time. He needed out. He needed off the damn ship.
Jonas took off down the hallway, looking for an exit.
((Jonas Jeffries continues in If You Can't Stand The Heat...)
The boy had dropped out of sight, plummeted down into the water below. Jonas didn't know how high up he was, but he doubted the kid would be able to swim with bullets in him. The surface of the water was silent. There was no thrashing, no struggle.
Oh... Oh fuck... Can he swim? I... I don't think he can swim. Yeah. He's fucked. Whoever that guy was, he's totally fucked.
His eyes were wide. He looked around, expecting to see a witness to his crime. He'd dropped his Uzi on the bed in the room and he retreated back to it, snapping the safety back on.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
He'd shot someone. It hadn't been Vincent. Now, he was feeling the panic. He was a murderer now. There was truly no going back.
OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!
"Guahhhh!!" He shouted, shouldering his bag and stumbling back out of the room. He didn't know where he was going, but he was wasting time. He needed out. He needed off the damn ship.
Jonas took off down the hallway, looking for an exit.
((Jonas Jeffries continues in If You Can't Stand The Heat...)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up, and his particular cabin lacked a window, so he had no way of knowing without leaving the safety of his room. As he looked around he noticed that his affects and person seemed to be unmolested, and the chair was still in place. Nobody had attempted to get in.
"Good," Michael thought aloud. He finished the bottle he'd started earlier and tossed it in a wastepaper basket left in the room. He knew that he needed to get going, but he wasn't sure where to go. His stomach made an impatient noise as he thought. Heeding it's call, he fished around in his bag until his hand found the saltines. He opened them and began munching on them.
Anywhere but the lake or the hotel I guess. He looked at the map again and noticed a rainforest.
"Seems like a good idea to me." Michael spoke aloud again, not realizing he was doing it. He decided that he'd had enough of the crackers and put them away as he looked through his bag again. He'd been provided with clothes, but he hadn't bothered looking through them until now. A green t-shirt with a leaf on it, matching his bandanna. He'd probably change into that later. Standard brand shirt, included to please the sponsors.
"Adidas. Nice...what do we have here?"
Michael found what seemed to be a sports jersey, and uniform pants. Upon closer examination he found that it was a modified football uniform. Specifically a modified Detroit Central uniform. It had his name and number on it, but it was brand new, and kinda short. He decided to try it on, and found that the shirt showed off his belly quite a bit. He had strong abdominal muscles, but it wasn't anything like the washboard this outfit was made for. It was more like Jones soda, sold in fours and surrounded by cardboard.
Michael wasn't sure what that meant, but as he examined himself in a dresser mirror he decided that he didn't look half bad, and prepared himself for a nice romp through the forest.
((Michael Clark continued in Peers.))
"Good," Michael thought aloud. He finished the bottle he'd started earlier and tossed it in a wastepaper basket left in the room. He knew that he needed to get going, but he wasn't sure where to go. His stomach made an impatient noise as he thought. Heeding it's call, he fished around in his bag until his hand found the saltines. He opened them and began munching on them.
Anywhere but the lake or the hotel I guess. He looked at the map again and noticed a rainforest.
"Seems like a good idea to me." Michael spoke aloud again, not realizing he was doing it. He decided that he'd had enough of the crackers and put them away as he looked through his bag again. He'd been provided with clothes, but he hadn't bothered looking through them until now. A green t-shirt with a leaf on it, matching his bandanna. He'd probably change into that later. Standard brand shirt, included to please the sponsors.
"Adidas. Nice...what do we have here?"
Michael found what seemed to be a sports jersey, and uniform pants. Upon closer examination he found that it was a modified football uniform. Specifically a modified Detroit Central uniform. It had his name and number on it, but it was brand new, and kinda short. He decided to try it on, and found that the shirt showed off his belly quite a bit. He had strong abdominal muscles, but it wasn't anything like the washboard this outfit was made for. It was more like Jones soda, sold in fours and surrounded by cardboard.
Michael wasn't sure what that meant, but as he examined himself in a dresser mirror he decided that he didn't look half bad, and prepared himself for a nice romp through the forest.
((Michael Clark continued in Peers.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler zabriel. 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.