The Seagull

[Laurels]

((Nastya Zharkova continued from And All Because Of A Snail))

"Okay, guess I had the right idea at the start. Let's be Pavlichenko."

Nastya sniffled and wiped her nose on her uniform jacket sleeve. After watching Rue drop dead, Nastya had carried her extremely out-of-shape self far from that area of town and went to a nearby collection of houses. It looked to be a little better off than the ones she had started in, but she could give a damn about aesthetics. Someone was just murdered in front of her, and that surely meant more of these sorry cunts were going to play the game as well.

Granted, Nastya couldn't be too sad about Rue's death. She had hardly known the girl, and while it was upsetting she was dead so soon, it hadn't been long enough that Nastya would have invited her over for Sunday Dinner back home. If anything, the sniffling and irritation in her eyes was more from the salt in the air and the dust in this house than the terror of the other girl's death. She could still sympathize though; Rue probably had a family back home and Nastya could still regret not being able to do anything to help her. But Rue started shit and paid for it. Nastya wouldn't be like that. She'd be the one to end shit.

Nastya had returned to her original idea of hiding out in a house and letting her sniper rifle do all the talking. She had explored a chosen house, and after finding it free of any hostiles, she set about making it her base. She found a room on the third level of this house that looked like it was formerly someone's private study. This meant the room came with a small, round window dead center of the house. It was perfect to see if anyone would come trotting up the garden pathway to murder her, which meant that it would be easy for her to take care of anyone who came near and clearly demonstrated ill intentions.

Of course, Nastya couldn't be too stupid. She made sure to prod chairs under all the door handles on the first floor in case someone did reach a door or came in through the back. It wasn't perfect; some doors opened outwards, there was an open porch on the side of the house, and there were, of course, too many fucking windows to block. It wasn't like she was in a zombie apocalypse and could just board up every window. There were many ways in, and she just had to be ready for anyone who came in through them.

Otherwise, she could try to take comfort in the room she selected. Along with another chair under the door handle, she had moved some of the furniture around. The writing desk was now placed in front of the window for her to rest her rifle on. The weapon she got from Rue lay by her side in case she needed to get physical with anyone who made it inside. Being Russian, Nastya could pride herself on efficiency and a damn good work ethic, and it looked like her heritage was working in her favor in a hellhole like this.

As Nastya looked out into the view, she had to wonder if she was really going to do this. She had talked herself out of playing the role of cold, Russian sniper earlier, but now here she was, in a new nest, ready to shoot anyone who came near her. She sighed to herself.

"Okay. Let's be reasonable," she said aloud, trying to break the still silence of the study. "Not everyone is a threat, and you can scare them away with an intentional missed shot. But if it's that girl who killed Rue, put one between the eyes on sight. That should be easy."

Of course, Nastya knew it was simple to say something was easy. She hadn't actually used the gun yet, and at least the Americans gave her a book on how to use it. She gave herself a few minutes to review and see if she could practice something with her limited ammo. She gazed through the scope and moved it around the area. There had to be a flower pot or a lamp post or something she could try it on. That's when she spotted something better.

On the street a little ways away were a collection of seagulls. They were hanging around doing the usual flock of birds thing by mostly bouncing around and pecking at things. Nastya squinted a bit as she saw one seagull line up with the scope. She grimaced a bit, then sighed.

"The U.S. and the U.K. won't care about a single seagull," she told herself. "It'll be understandable."

Nastya kept her eye on one seagull and tried to follow it with the scope. She breathed in, and squeeze the trigger.

She let out a cry as she heard the loud bang from the rifle. In the sight of the rifle, she saw some red appear before all the seagulls took off. When the seagull meeting had been abandoned, Nastya saw a single seagull lying on the ground, some blood and feathers lying around it. She let out a long exhale after seeing it.

"It had to be done. I have to be prepared," she told herself.

With another sigh, Nastya prepared the rifle again and laid it back on the table. There was a good chance people would be drawn by the sound of the gunshot, so she had to be prepared in case any of them wanted to come visit her.

"Alright, Lyudmila," she said, stroking the rifle. "Let's see what's next."

[Laurels]

Nastya rested her eyes for a second. She wasn't going to try and fall asleep, but she wanted to at least have moments to close her eyes if she could. Unfortunately, it didn't look like she'd have that chance to rest for long, as a crackle interrupted the silence. The Americans were now giving an update on the game, so Nastya had to listen carefully.

Yian had gotten the first kill. That was surprising, given she remembered him as that kid who played around with the sign generator she made. Still, she had to accept it. Not like denying it would mean Yian wouldn't be a murderer and Cedric would be alive. Lena had also killed Calista, but it was the next one Nastya had to pay attention to.

The man announced Rue's death at the hands of Victoria Amaro. He made some crack about double tapping, but Nastya could hardly appreciate it. She finally had a name to Rue's killer. Nastya could show the American that she'd learn from his lessons. If she saw Victoria, she'd make sure to double, triple, and quadruple tap her.

Michelle had killed Morton, and that was it. Nastya wasn't sure what else to think. It was getting late, and she only had a bit of moonlight to see who, if anyone, would approach her house.

"Maybe I can have a bit of a rest," she said to herself, adjusting her grip on Lyudmila. "It's not like this place is lacking in shelters. Maybe everyone will fuck off somewhere else."

She could hope, but part of her knew that that probably wasn't true.

[Sh4dE]

((Sebbo Boston continued from i'm literally crying rn))

Sebbo's balls were hurting.

In the last three hours he masturbated at least seventeen times. He wasn't sure if that was healthy, but it made him feel a bit better.

He'd been kicked in the groin, pounded by a sledgehammer, kicked, punched, and his rad-ass sword was stolen. Worst of all, the announcement came on and told the world that Sebbo was not able to have earned a kill or two. Even wussies like Yian and Michelle got more kill point credits than him. That was a downer. Sebbo had to catch up. He wandered around, having heard a gunshot nearby, thinking about what had happened.

Thoughtful as Sebbo was, he also thought about what Kian had said during the scuffle. Sebbo was accused of entertaining these bastardly Americans. Now that drove Sebbo nuts, because he would never do that. He had honour, he was loyal to the Queen and now wanted to kick Kian in the face for smiting his name. He should've killed him. Sebbo should've cut his throat when he still had the sword. But now Kian had it. This was total BS.

Entertaining the Americans. Bah. Sebbo hated the Americans. He was no Americophile. He wouldn't kill for them, he would kill for himself. He was not playing along because he liked the Americans, he played along because he needed to win. Pah. Stupid Kian.

Sebbo walked down a street, ignoring the dead seagull lying there as he thoughtfully considered a way to show the world how much he hated America. To show Kian that he was not a marionette playing the games of government, but a proud Briton. Entertaining the Americans. Hah.

As he was ready, he angrily kicked the seagull some metres away and looked into a camera positioned near the house. Then, he emotionally, and loudly kicked his bars.

"Yo yo hey America, I'm in the Program/
you're all losers and I'm the pro, man!/
This ones for you Major Yancey/
You're boring! Not fancy/
meanwhile I'm like Marius Clarke - an MC/
Fuck you, America/"

Then he flipped the bird at the camera.

[Laurels]

Nastya rested her chin on her free hand as she adjusted her position in the chair. It was clear that years of sitting in front of a computer had messed with her posture a bit, so she was probably going to be really stiff while keeping vigil here. She'd have to make sure that she regularly stretched during this game otherwise she'd be as rigid and stiff as an old British lady. She had seen Tatiana do some stretches and yoga as part of her dance training at home. Maybe Nastya could remember some of those moves while she was here.

Before she could contemplate even further, Nastya noticed something moving down the way. She adjusted Lyudmila and looked through the scope. Sure enough, her target practice on a seagull had drawn someone in. From what she could make out in the moonlight, it looked to be a boy. It didn't look to be Yian, who Nastya knew she'd have to be weary of now that he was a confirmed killer. It was probably some other tosser, one who probably wanted to wander into darkness to investigate the sound of gunfire. She had to wonder if seeing the dead seagull would really startle them or not, or confuse them further as to why there was a dead seagull lying in the street.

It was then Nastya got a way better idea of who this person was. From the scope, she could see the guy kick the dead seagull, then turn to what she saw was a camera on the exterior of a house. Nastya leaned forward a bit, hoping moving Lyudmila a bit would allow her a better view. It really didn't change much, but it was then that Nastya could see more of the guy.

She couldn't really make out what he was saying, but she could sort of hear that he was shouting at the camera. Through the rifle scope, she could see he was doing what looked to be a middle schooler's attempt at gangster rap. Nastya wasn't a fan of rap, and this guy just looked silly. He kept moving his hands back and forth in front of him, with them bent flat so it looked like her hands and arms were shaped like bendy straws. He also was bending his knees and straightening himself back up just as quickly like he was preemptively squatting to take a dump, only to cancel it when he realized it was just gas. All in all, Nastya could see that this guy was making a fool of himself to the Americans and to anyone else who was in the vicinity. Granted, she was probably the only person in the vicinity, so she was alone in seeing this awkwardness, and that didn't feel fair to her.

"Okay, I think I've seen enough."

Nastya adjusted Lyudmila and put her finger around the trigger. This guy wasn't worth killing, but he still had some value as a practice target. She was probably going to have to shoot a person eventually, and while she didn't think it was necessary to kill this guy, she needed to at least get herself accustomed to aiming and firing at a living human. She couldn't spend her time killing seagulls like she was some kind of Chekhov character. She'd have to do this before she really needed to know how to do it, so now was as good a time as any.

Nastya aimed Lyudmila in the direction of the guy's feet. She could assure herself she'd hit the ground near him and not actually hit him. But if she did, well, she'd just deal with that too.

"Show's over," she muttered, then pulled the trigger.

[Sh4dE]

Just as Sebbo finished his verses, there was a loud sound coming from the air. A bullet gunshot, obviously. He reacted immediately by throwing himself on the ground covering his head. Fuck, fuck they were trying to kill him. The Americans wanted to kill him. They ordered their snipers to execute him for insulting their dictator, he was dead, he was fucking dead.

But there was not a second gunshot.

He was still alive.

Sebbo slowly looked up again, meeting the eyes of the dead seagull on the ground. Sebbo was alive, he was alive, the seagull is dead, Sebbo is still alive. Very carefully, he put both of his hands up in a defeated manner. He hysterically spoke loudly to the camera.

"AH! I don't mean it, I don't mean it, I love America we're like brothers after all. Please don't shoot me - I will not talk bad about you again I promise, please give me another chance, please, I will not talk bad about your beautiful country. I am thankful you gave us a chance to survive instead of killing us all, guys, please."

Sebbo was really scared, and felt like he was crying, but luckily he didn't do that. His face was reddened, but there was not a single tear shed.

[Laurels]

Nastya blinked as she watched the reaction of the guy in her sight. He had thrown himself to the ground after she fired the gun, and now he was suddenly back up, arms raised, and seemed to still be talking to the cameras. Her mouth slowly fell open as her eyebrow raised in response. What was he doing? Why wasn't he trying to get the hell out of there? She couldn't believe he was still there and apparently still yammering to himself, or something else.

"Jeez, maybe I should just kill him."

Nastya paused after that utterance, sitting upright in her chair and laying Lyudmila on its side. That was quite the statement to suddenly make, and it even surprised her, someone known for making bold comments. She barely knew this guy, just that he liked to kick dead animals and shamelessly rap in public. But was that worth killing him over? Her survival was guaranteed by being the sole survivor, if the Americans were actually going to honor that deal. If she didn't kill him, someone else would. It seemed pretty likely he was going to die if this was his reaction to being shot at.

Nastya hummed to herself. It would be easy. He wasn't moving, so if she really wanted, she could line the rifle with his head and get it done in one quick pull of the trigger. That would fulfill the standard requirement. But was she truly ready to kill something or someone that pathetic and weak? Was she really to kill another proverbial seagull?

She paused for a moment, and made her decision.

She returned to her sniper's position. She raised Lyudmila, looked through the scope, adjusted accordingly, and fired.

[Sh4dE]

Just as he thought the Americans would forgive him, a bullet grazed his arm.

"Ow!"

Sebbo began to bolt down the street, away from range. He ran as if his life depended on it. Sebbo ran at least 4 minutes straight. Or three minutes. Okay, it was sixty-four seconds. Then he stopped and realised that he was safe.

((Sebbo Boston continued in Ill-Met By Moonlight))

[Laurels]

Well, that seemed to work. From the way the tosser reacted, Nastya seemed to have actually done some damage to him. Now he was fleeing the scene. Nastya exhaled and lowered Lyudmila.

"Ok. So it is possible," she told herself.

She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head, leaning back so her dreads spilled over the back of her seat. This was what she had become over the course of a single day: someone who could see death and then try to deliver it to others. She had taken the life of one seagull and had apparently inflicted harm upon one of her peers.

Nastya leaned forward. She picked Lyudmila back up and looked through the scope. It didn't look like anyone was approaching the area. Clearly, everyone who was still left was smart enough to avoid the sounds of gunfire.

"Alright, that makes me feel a bit better," she told herself.

She lowered Lyudmila and laid her flat on the table, the barrel still facing out the window. Nastya leaned over and rested her head over her folded arms. It had been a tiring day all things considered. Maybe Nastya could take some time to rest.

[Laurels]

Nastya slowly stirred and rubbed her eyes, lifting her head up from the hard, wooden desk. She could feel Lyudmila right by her hand, and she instinctively took the rifle back into her grip. She leaned back in the chair, her eyes finally getting into focus. It looked like the sun was finally up. As her eyes came into focus, she realized that she wasn't in some house in Mexico. She was now perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking some great expanse. The sky was clear of clouds, there were mountains all around her, and a gentle breeze passed through the area. Nastya merely held her mouth open and raised her eyebrows at the sight.

"Uh..." was all she could say before she heard a loud crackling sound.

She looked around and heard some fluttering. As she did, a seagull landed on the edge of the desk. The bird had a large hole in its body, which Nastya could see through, with blood staining its feathers as if a tomato got chucked at the bird. The bird opened its beak and the crackling sound continued before a voice came out.

"Comrade Zharkova," the bird spoke. "Do you see?"

It was a female voice. Russian-accented, from the sounds of it. Nastya did speak Russian at home, so she knew it well.

"Uh... see what?"

"Zharkova. Do you see?"

"See what? All I see is mountains and sky and a fucked up zombie seagull. Tell me what I'm supposed to be seeing?"

"Oh. That's a shame."

"Why?"

"Because I see you."

Nastya paused. She was prepared to speak again when a red dot suddenly appeared on the desk and began to move across the top. The dot made it's way over to the seagull, lining up with the hole in its body.

"I see you."

Before Nastya could ask again, the seagull suddenly exploded, with a loud ringing sound following its decimation. Nastya remained in her seat, closing her eyes as she was covered in seagull blood and feathers. She gasped, and began to pant. She tried to look around, but found she couldn't get out of the chair. For whatever reason, she couldn't move from the seat, although she didn't see any chains binding her down.

That's when another seagull landed on her desk. It also opened its beak and came with a loud crackling sound, this one louder than the previous bird.

That's when Nastya quickly lifted her head up from the desk. Now she was back in the Mexican house, starring out into the same street where she shot that seagull and that tool from yesterday. It was brighter outside, and that crackling sound was the sound of the morning announcement about to come on. Despite knowing that the American dickhead was about to rattle off the names of more dead people, she was still thinking about that weird-ass dream she had. Nastya wasn't one to remember her dreams; most of them left her conscious the second they ended and she never journaled them. But this one stuck with her, and she knew it was going to be all that was on her mind that day.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Nastya said. "I should have slept in a bed."

Nastya stretched her sore back and her stiff neck. She'd hear the names of the dead soon, and she needed to be prepared for whoever else decided to play the game.

[KamiKaze]

((Phoebe Quincey continued from the script for The Bee Movie))

Once, when Phoebe was younger, maybe in her ninth year, she saw a fox lying in the middle of the road on her way to school. She remembered the way its body had flattened and contorted, the remaining look of fear in its expression, the smell. When she saw it, she’d knelt down, tears welling in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do, but on the way back from school it was still there. She moved it to the side of the road to spare it further abuse and washed her hands thoroughly afterward. Even then, her hands felt unclean. In retrospect, she should have told someone, have the body taken away. When she walked Pippi that day she went down another route, but the next morning, as she headed back to school, the body was gone. Maybe someone else moved it again, maybe another animal found it, she didn’t know.

It wouldn’t be the last time. She never watched Margot… go, she guessed. The last thing she said was “keep them distracted,” then… it happened. Phoebe saw the helicopters attack, but no body. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. But she did see the boy who tried to escape during the attack. He tried to break for it, then…

Bang. Blood leaked onto the floor.

She had stared, transfixed the entire time.

It’s weird what you think about when you see a dead seagull lying in the middle of the street.

Her foot nudged it. On cue, flies swarmed out, buzzing harshly. Phoebe felt herself gag. By the look of things, someone had shot it, and perhaps messed with it a bit more. Why she didn’t know. But she was in the same conundrum as the fox.

Should she move it someplace where it was out of sight and can’t be abused? Should she let it be?

Phoebe knelt down, a frown on her face. The ache in her legs reminded her that she’d been doing a lot of walking. Phoebe was, right now, looking in the various housing districts for others.

She wasn’t aware of anyone else who could be nearby.

[Laurels]

Several hours after the announcement, Nastya knew the exact number of posts in the fence along the house from the view of her window, how many flowers were in bloom on the bushes around the fence, and how many ridges and lines were on the windowsill. Needless to say, she was completely bored. Normally, when Nastya was locked in a room for hours on end, it was because she was coding some new program, or taking care of her cacti, or was just sleeping. But she had no computer, no house plants, and no familiar bed to sleep in. All she had was the desk, the view from the window, and the gun she arbitrarily gave a name to. It was enough to say that, after about sixteen hours of so of doing her best Lyudmila Pavlichenko impression, Nastya was completely over it.

Nastya knew that with the added deaths they were approaching the halfway point of the game. Or at least she hoped they were. Again, she was bored senseless, so the sooner this would be over, the better. She was starting to wish something would come in to at least mix things up a bit. She had spent enough time starring blankly, trying desperately to not think about seeing Rue and that seagull from yesterday dying.

Speaking of the seagull, it looked like someone else was now approaching it. Why was everyone immediately drawn to that damn thing? Did no one ever see roadkill back home?

Nastya raised her rifle and looked through the scope. It was a girl. Nastya was pretty sure it was one of those student government girls from back home, not that she ever really paid attention to those people. To her, the student government were the kind of damp toilet paper people who couldn't have fun and would stop others. Nastya wasn't going to fraternize with them, so why bother remember much about them.

Nastya looked at the girl again. She was sure this girl wasn't any of the killers from before. Two girls who had committed murder were dead now, so it was fair to assume this girl wouldn't be trouble. It was fair to, but that didn't guarantee she wouldn't be, and Nastya was so bored she decided she may as well fuck around with this girl if it will mean she'll have some stimulation in this bitch.

Nastya didn't have reason to be annoyed with this girl like that wannabe rapper guy from last night. She could at least try something different for her. Nastya stood up from her seat and moved to one side of the window. She crouched down, leaning Lyudmila against the side of the window so she was now hooked into the corner. At this angle, Nastya could at least now see some of the windows on the buildings on the side of the road ahead of the house. The girl below wasn't a threat right now, and she wasn't a wanker like the other guy, so Nastya could at least give her a good scare and send her away. Then Nastya could see if she could estimate how many stones would be in the gravel pathway leading up to the house or something as time-consuming as that.

Nastya looked through the scope, breathed in, and pulled the trigger, watching one of the windows instantly shatter and rain down on the sidewalk in a hail of glass and refracted sunlight.

"Aw, fuck me," she muttered. "That was cool."

[KamiKaze]

Maybe she could take off her jacket, and take the body elsewhere. Then again, her clothes would still be touching a dead animal, and she’d have to put it back on. Maybe there was something better.

Phoebe looked around her, along the street. She was standing close to a building, No trace of a tarp, or a blanket, or anything else in immediate sight. If nothing else, she’d use her blazer.

She took in a deep breath--

Only for a banging sound going off, and a glass window above her head and to her right to shatter, sending shards down onto the street.

She screamed, and did the first thing that came to mind. She raised an arm, and tried to move away from the shards, only to fall on her stomach. Her bag laid next to her.

Phoebe felt a stinging sensation in her forearm. She didn’t dare look.

She didn’t want to look.

[Laurels]

Nastya's momentary joy at vandalism quickly disappeared when she realized just how close the girl was to the glass. While it seemed cool to shoot out a window, it looked like the girl was actually hurt from the falling glass. Now she felt kinda guilty. She would have figured more glass would have gone inside the building, or that it would just be some glass in the hair, but she seemed really shaken.

"Dammit. This is different from the seagull."

Nastya continued to look through the scope at the girl. This was where she had her. Lying on the street near a dead seagull and freaking out at getting cut with glass. Nastya did still need that one kill, and this girl was a much easier target than the rapper guy from yesterday. Nastya could easily line up and take her out without her knowing.

And yet here she was again, contemplating murdering someone. Nastya rested her head against the window frame. Why was this such an easy mindset to get into? Was this how her ancestors handled the Russian revolution and World War II? Man, she was starting to really get peeved that the Americans were making it so easy for her to be like this.

Nastya adjusted herself and looked back through the scope. Hopefully the girl would have collected herself and fled in the mean time.

[KamiKaze]

Phoebe felt herself heave and sob.

Even though she tried not to look, she saw a splotch of red on her arms. The same sting echoed in her knees, a bit smaller. Maybe a bit on her chin, as well. It was fainter.

And meanwhile, her mind fizzed incoherently. Where did the noise come from? Where did the glass-


It hit her, like a freight train bursting through static.

She was shot at.

Someone had tried to attack her.

She needed to get out of here.


Phoebe put both arms on the ground, feeling the same scratches on her hands. But she quickly, surely, pulled herself up.

Another heave, another sob.

Then, she started running.

[Laurels]

Nastya kept her gaze on the girl. She squinted a little harder as she saw the girl struggle to get up. It would be easy to finish the girl off while she was clearly in such disarray. Then Nastya would have her one kill, and then she could maybe go home.

She then noticed the girl get up and start to run away. She moved her eye away from the scope and sighed. Nah, there was no point. This girl still knew to get away, and that meant Nastya could relax and know she had defended her stronghold. This girl wasn't going to fool around like that guy from yesterday. She knew to jog on when the time came.

Nastya lowered the rifle and pulled it inside, resting it on the desk. She leaned back in her seat and let out a sigh. As she rubbed her forehead, she felt a layer of grease on her skin. She hadn't bathed since she was abducted. She didn't expect to take a bubble bath, but she was exhausted, and since that girl was not sticking around, Nastya figured she could take a short break. Not a long one, but enough to use the bathroom and maybe wipe her face down.

Nastya scooted the chair back and stood up, stretching a bit. She didn't even bother to look out the window. She needed to break the view up and took in the view of the room. It wasn't that great, but it was a bit of a change.

Nastya grabbed her rifle. She wasn't going to be a total idiot. Even if she was going to go to the bathroom, she should stay armed. She kept Lyudmila by her side as she walked out of the room.

"Ugh, there better not be shitty brown water coming out of these pipes," she muttered to herself as she left the room.