(Rhonda Rollins continued from One Way or Another, You'll Have Bloody Hands)
The wooden planks creaked and clacked occasionally under Rhonda's feet as she walked further away from the cruise ship. Leaving the ship was something that she hoped would re-energize her in some way. She had gone through a lot of shit on that ship, almost dying, then watching someone else die, then accidentally blowing up her neck. It was all very traumatic, and even though Rhonda didn't know much about psychology, she was pretty sure that getting away from where all of that happened might be good for her in some way. So even though she could barricade herself in a room for as long as she wanted, she needed to be somewhere else.
Besides, traveling would be necessary for the next part of her plan. Well, the plan that had been passed down to her, in any case. The collar was still on her neck, and if she wanted to get out, then she needed to get it off. And since it would be pretty hard to convince someone to let her experiment on their collar for several probably fatal reasons, she had resigned herself to searching for corpses for further testing.
Even saying it in her head didn't sound good. She kept having to remind herself if she was really, really doing this. It was hard to explain, even to herself, but it was still her most humane option. After all, dead people couldn't feel pain, right? So the only person at risk from her experiments was herself getting injured from the blast. She supposed that there was also the potentially angry families of whoever she might wind up blowing up, but she was guessing that they had probably stopped watching by now. Or at least she hoped that they had. And she really hoped that her dad had long since stopped watching, or better yet, never started.
Now she found herself creeping across the jetties, eyes and ears alert. And "creeping" really did feel like the best word to describe it considering the circumstances. But it would all be worth it in the end if she could get that collar off.
The Worst Kind of Tribute
Technically, finding a corpse would be a good thing right now, and that was probably the only time in Rhonda's life where that train of thought would enter her mind. At least it would be good news as long as there was an unexploded collar around its neck, otherwise it would just be a dead body. But she hadn't turned up any results just wandering around, and the darkness of the night was making her feel paranoid. She mounted one of the sailboats and ducked into the cabin, hoping to give herself at least a little bit of rest and quiet before returning to her search.
Even though she had been steeling herself to find a body, she still felt startled by what she saw inside. A body left on the floor in a situation rather similar to what she had done with Shoshanna, only this guy was on the ground and had an unexploded collar around his neck. Speaking of necks, Rhonda already wished that she hadn't looked at his. It was bruised to hell, with a few nasty-looking cuts as well just to make it worse. It all lined up with what the announcer had said. Ivan fucking hung the dude.
Between this and Giselle, Rhonda really had to wonder how lucky she must have been to find Ivan when he was half-dead and too injured to fight. Any other time, and she could well have ended up like Vas or Giselle. Was Ivan an ally? He had been briefly, yes, but Rhonda had no intention of crossing his path again. He had way too much blood on his hands, and in horrifically brutal fashion to boot.
But even so... Ivan might have thrown her an indirect bone. Vasily's neck was fucked, but his collar still seemed to be in decent enough condition. That was all she needed. She set her bag on the ground as she looked him over once more, and something about him struck her familiar. Something about the way he looked. It didn't take too long to put the pieces together, especially with the way this guy was dressed.
It was one of Fisk's buddies. The fucker that wanted to put a hole in her head.
Well, it was pretty clear how that turned out. Rhonda was still alive, and he... fuck, there he was. He was an asshole, but that still was a hell of a way to go out. She had a hard time feeling any sympathy for him, but there was still that small twinge. She wondered if that was a good thing, something that was keeping her humanity in check against the game. Whatever the case, Vasily wasn't going to get a chance to hurt her again, and he had something that could help her out.
Rhonda took a knee and quickly started flipping through Shoshanna's journal for more concepts. It was time to go to work.
Even though she had been steeling herself to find a body, she still felt startled by what she saw inside. A body left on the floor in a situation rather similar to what she had done with Shoshanna, only this guy was on the ground and had an unexploded collar around his neck. Speaking of necks, Rhonda already wished that she hadn't looked at his. It was bruised to hell, with a few nasty-looking cuts as well just to make it worse. It all lined up with what the announcer had said. Ivan fucking hung the dude.
Between this and Giselle, Rhonda really had to wonder how lucky she must have been to find Ivan when he was half-dead and too injured to fight. Any other time, and she could well have ended up like Vas or Giselle. Was Ivan an ally? He had been briefly, yes, but Rhonda had no intention of crossing his path again. He had way too much blood on his hands, and in horrifically brutal fashion to boot.
But even so... Ivan might have thrown her an indirect bone. Vasily's neck was fucked, but his collar still seemed to be in decent enough condition. That was all she needed. She set her bag on the ground as she looked him over once more, and something about him struck her familiar. Something about the way he looked. It didn't take too long to put the pieces together, especially with the way this guy was dressed.
It was one of Fisk's buddies. The fucker that wanted to put a hole in her head.
Well, it was pretty clear how that turned out. Rhonda was still alive, and he... fuck, there he was. He was an asshole, but that still was a hell of a way to go out. She had a hard time feeling any sympathy for him, but there was still that small twinge. She wondered if that was a good thing, something that was keeping her humanity in check against the game. Whatever the case, Vasily wasn't going to get a chance to hurt her again, and he had something that could help her out.
Rhonda took a knee and quickly started flipping through Shoshanna's journal for more concepts. It was time to go to work.
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The Honeless Beard
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Ivan had been popping into frame a lot lately.
He could almost hear the string spike when someone turned around, and there he was - mostly people with masks in their backpacks, or those who'd consider them friends. Emerging from the deep like the creature from the lagoon to gank Bacchia, springing from the shadows to torch Vasily, charging from the corner to capture Giselle. He'd mastered the quick hit, but more importantly, the important run that allowed him to escape by the skin of his teeth.
But Rhonda wasn't an enemy, right? He'd told her as much - and anyone who was with her. She'd have nothing to fear from him. Still, hearing his name a few times on the announcements may have shaken her position a lot more than his.
He gently tapped on the cabin door with an index knuckle, looked through the window at her. Ivan waited until Rhonda raised her eyes to his from her position thumbing through a - book? Dream Journal? - before waving awkwardly.
"Need a hand?" Ivan said, voice soft.
He could almost hear the string spike when someone turned around, and there he was - mostly people with masks in their backpacks, or those who'd consider them friends. Emerging from the deep like the creature from the lagoon to gank Bacchia, springing from the shadows to torch Vasily, charging from the corner to capture Giselle. He'd mastered the quick hit, but more importantly, the important run that allowed him to escape by the skin of his teeth.
But Rhonda wasn't an enemy, right? He'd told her as much - and anyone who was with her. She'd have nothing to fear from him. Still, hearing his name a few times on the announcements may have shaken her position a lot more than his.
He gently tapped on the cabin door with an index knuckle, looked through the window at her. Ivan waited until Rhonda raised her eyes to his from her position thumbing through a - book? Dream Journal? - before waving awkwardly.
"Need a hand?" Ivan said, voice soft.
Rhonda's shoulders jumped when she heard Ivan's voice behind her. She hadn't been counting on someone sneaking up on her when she didn't have her gun in her hands. She turned around in a hurry, and Ivan's face gave her mixed feelings. He was one of her few allies that she had found, but she had just been having doubts about him, and she was fully aware of how dangerous he was, with his handiwork laid out before her in case she needed a reminder.
"Shit, you scared the hell out of me." She said, having been turned much more alert from the shock. If she hadn't already been kneeling, her legs would have been weak. If she was going to take the leap and trust Ivan, then she would have to bring him up to speed real quick. She had given him a general idea of what she was trying to do when they parted ways the first time, but to say that she needed to add a few updates was a way to drastically undersell her experience since that point.
"So I, uh... found an escape group." She admitted. "There were a few of us, trying to find a way to get the collars off" She starts to mumble as she continued. "... Only two of us left now, and I dunno where Nadine is. So I'm just trying to figure this shit out." She waggles the journal in front of her. "Already seen two collars blow, and blew a third myself. Hopefully sooner or later I'll get one right." Her voice was tired and frustrated, as though all three collar bursts had just happened moments prior.
"Shit, you scared the hell out of me." She said, having been turned much more alert from the shock. If she hadn't already been kneeling, her legs would have been weak. If she was going to take the leap and trust Ivan, then she would have to bring him up to speed real quick. She had given him a general idea of what she was trying to do when they parted ways the first time, but to say that she needed to add a few updates was a way to drastically undersell her experience since that point.
"So I, uh... found an escape group." She admitted. "There were a few of us, trying to find a way to get the collars off" She starts to mumble as she continued. "... Only two of us left now, and I dunno where Nadine is. So I'm just trying to figure this shit out." She waggles the journal in front of her. "Already seen two collars blow, and blew a third myself. Hopefully sooner or later I'll get one right." Her voice was tired and frustrated, as though all three collar bursts had just happened moments prior.
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The Honeless Beard
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Ivan hesitated as he stepped to the doorway, filling it as Rhonda carried on. Briefly, his eyes slid closed as he just listened to another voice not emanating from a speaker box on his collar or figments of his wobbly imagination. Rhonda didn't kill him immediately, and if she killed him now, then-
Well, that'd be fine.
He opened his eyes, refocused, then crept into the room on bloody bare feet as she waggled the journal and continued to explain about the collars. An escape group. Sounded too... hopeful for his blood. Sounded like people who expected to make it out of this, and how could he not support that?
"And you're against the clock," he said, understanding somewhat as he crouched to be on her level. He glanced down at Vasily, the eyepatch totally missing, empty socket winking back at him.
"What have you guys tried?"
Well, that'd be fine.
He opened his eyes, refocused, then crept into the room on bloody bare feet as she waggled the journal and continued to explain about the collars. An escape group. Sounded too... hopeful for his blood. Sounded like people who expected to make it out of this, and how could he not support that?
"And you're against the clock," he said, understanding somewhat as he crouched to be on her level. He glanced down at Vasily, the eyepatch totally missing, empty socket winking back at him.
"What have you guys tried?"
"First we tried putting needles into the pinholes in the collars. That didn't work." Rhonda explained from the start. "Then we tried heating the needles before putting them in. That didn't work either." She groaned, annoyed. "And then that's when Shoshanna died and left the book with me. I tried to saw through the front of her collar with a heated piano wire." She held up her bandaged hand. "And that didn't work either."
She raised Shoshanna's journal again. "I know there's a way to get these things off. They got 'em on our goddamn necks in the first place, and they've gotta have a way to take 'em off the winner. Only thing is, I don't know what it is yet!" Her irritation was palpable. If there was any chance that ripping the collars off with her bare hands could have worked, then she definitely would have tried it at this point. That would have been preferable to the vague yet extremely precise ideas that she had to follow instead.
With a heavy huff, she settled back down and looked at the collar around Vasily's neck. "I guess I have to study the damn things more. Try to see if there's a latch, or maybe some kinda weak point. Anything that I can use to crack these things open." Following her desperate words, she glanced back over to Ivan. "You have any ideas?"
She raised Shoshanna's journal again. "I know there's a way to get these things off. They got 'em on our goddamn necks in the first place, and they've gotta have a way to take 'em off the winner. Only thing is, I don't know what it is yet!" Her irritation was palpable. If there was any chance that ripping the collars off with her bare hands could have worked, then she definitely would have tried it at this point. That would have been preferable to the vague yet extremely precise ideas that she had to follow instead.
With a heavy huff, she settled back down and looked at the collar around Vasily's neck. "I guess I have to study the damn things more. Try to see if there's a latch, or maybe some kinda weak point. Anything that I can use to crack these things open." Following her desperate words, she glanced back over to Ivan. "You have any ideas?"
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Applesintime
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((Gregory Miller continued from this cheeses me))
He had been just sorta walking for a while, munching on cheese as he walked, looking for something to do. It was sorta late, and if he was at home he'd probably be sleeping right now, but he had to find people to kill! The girl had failed to kill him, but he didn't kill her so it all sorta evened out, even if like, it would be boring to the people watching, but it was the middle of the night and if he would be sleeping so would America.
Either way, he heard voices! And, like, maybe something would be there, and he could get out with another kill and prove to himself that he could do more than kill steal. He could do a lot more! It was still nice to have his name be in the announcements, but he could do more than kill steal, take someone else's rightful kill. He would get his own with Cory's knife and the bolas in his backpack. It was just a matter of time!
So, walking into the boat, making no real attempt to hide his footsteps because, like, the people were already talking and they weren't trying to hide, so that sorta meant that like, it was free reign or some shit. Maybe they'd just end up blasting him away, maybe he'd end up blasting them away!
Peeking around the door, Gregory took in the sights. A dead body, a girl, and Ivan Rodriguez. None of them had his banner. The dead guy was the one who had been killed by Ivan, but, like, he wasn't killing the girl so it was fine.
"Whatcha guys doing?"
He had been just sorta walking for a while, munching on cheese as he walked, looking for something to do. It was sorta late, and if he was at home he'd probably be sleeping right now, but he had to find people to kill! The girl had failed to kill him, but he didn't kill her so it all sorta evened out, even if like, it would be boring to the people watching, but it was the middle of the night and if he would be sleeping so would America.
Either way, he heard voices! And, like, maybe something would be there, and he could get out with another kill and prove to himself that he could do more than kill steal. He could do a lot more! It was still nice to have his name be in the announcements, but he could do more than kill steal, take someone else's rightful kill. He would get his own with Cory's knife and the bolas in his backpack. It was just a matter of time!
So, walking into the boat, making no real attempt to hide his footsteps because, like, the people were already talking and they weren't trying to hide, so that sorta meant that like, it was free reign or some shit. Maybe they'd just end up blasting him away, maybe he'd end up blasting them away!
Peeking around the door, Gregory took in the sights. A dead body, a girl, and Ivan Rodriguez. None of them had his banner. The dead guy was the one who had been killed by Ivan, but, like, he wasn't killing the girl so it was fine.
"Whatcha guys doing?"
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The Honeless Beard
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Ivan opened his mouth to respond before a floating, lilting voice came from the doorway he just entered through. Without much fanfare, he pushed himself to his feet and stepped away lightly, casually placing himself to the right of Rhonda so she could see the potential threat. The three of them made a loose triangle, with Rhonda and Gregory forming the straight and Ivan standing at the third point.
"Hey, Gregory," Ivan said, voice soft, "nothin' much. How's life?"
If Rhonda wanted to trust this dude with the collars thing, it was her bag. He just kept his hands to his sides, watching Gregory with a slight grin, F burning against his forehead.
"Hey, Gregory," Ivan said, voice soft, "nothin' much. How's life?"
If Rhonda wanted to trust this dude with the collars thing, it was her bag. He just kept his hands to his sides, watching Gregory with a slight grin, F burning against his forehead.
((Luciano Ascencio continued from Song of the Candle))
Luciano stumbled through the jetties, hoping the fresh evening air would help to wash away some of the grogginess he was feeling. That short rest back at the ship had not done him much good, it seemed. Not only was he still exhausted, but he was now dealing with a splitting headache, which only seemed to be aggravated by the strong smell of seawater.
He really just couldn't catch a break, could he? First, he gets assigned a weapon that he can barely use. Then, he spends the next three days running into people again and again who he has to desperately talk down from shooting him. The fact that his very body seemed to be rebelling against him was simply the icing on the proverbial cake. If he had any belief in the supernatural, he'd probably be thinking that there was some sort of curse on him.
Still, well, at least he wasn't dead, unlike more than half of his classmates. Though he had never been particularly close to any of them, the thought of them being gone forever brought more than a twinge of regret to his mind. The stories of their lives, their thoughts, their dreams... all of it was now forever inaccessible to him. All he had left of them were wisps of rumours, barely the surface of the wealth of information that comprised every student at Mangrove Garden.
Speaking of information... Luciano's head abruptly jerked up from his slouching position at the sound of voices coming from a nearby cabin. He strained to listen, his ears picking up fragmentary sentences, with frequent mentions of collars, the thought of which brought his hand to the cool metal of the one around his own neck.
His heart began to pound in his chest as he approached the shelter. People were trouble, and groups were even worse. It was obvious that the smartest thing to do here would be to make a 180 degree turn and leave the way he came, but... The desire to find out exactly what was going on here burned in his mind. Slowly, he crept towards the building, trying his best not to make a sound as he listened in on the group. He had a feeling that he would come to regret this decision, but he also knew that he would never forgive himself if he allowed himself to miss out on potentially important information, especially concerning a device attached to his body that could kill him at any moment.
He just needed to get a little bit closer...
Luciano stumbled through the jetties, hoping the fresh evening air would help to wash away some of the grogginess he was feeling. That short rest back at the ship had not done him much good, it seemed. Not only was he still exhausted, but he was now dealing with a splitting headache, which only seemed to be aggravated by the strong smell of seawater.
He really just couldn't catch a break, could he? First, he gets assigned a weapon that he can barely use. Then, he spends the next three days running into people again and again who he has to desperately talk down from shooting him. The fact that his very body seemed to be rebelling against him was simply the icing on the proverbial cake. If he had any belief in the supernatural, he'd probably be thinking that there was some sort of curse on him.
Still, well, at least he wasn't dead, unlike more than half of his classmates. Though he had never been particularly close to any of them, the thought of them being gone forever brought more than a twinge of regret to his mind. The stories of their lives, their thoughts, their dreams... all of it was now forever inaccessible to him. All he had left of them were wisps of rumours, barely the surface of the wealth of information that comprised every student at Mangrove Garden.
Speaking of information... Luciano's head abruptly jerked up from his slouching position at the sound of voices coming from a nearby cabin. He strained to listen, his ears picking up fragmentary sentences, with frequent mentions of collars, the thought of which brought his hand to the cool metal of the one around his own neck.
His heart began to pound in his chest as he approached the shelter. People were trouble, and groups were even worse. It was obvious that the smartest thing to do here would be to make a 180 degree turn and leave the way he came, but... The desire to find out exactly what was going on here burned in his mind. Slowly, he crept towards the building, trying his best not to make a sound as he listened in on the group. He had a feeling that he would come to regret this decision, but he also knew that he would never forgive himself if he allowed himself to miss out on potentially important information, especially concerning a device attached to his body that could kill him at any moment.
He just needed to get a little bit closer...
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Spindarene
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((Amanda Brooks continued from I Thought We'd Stay Together))
Amanda felt unreal as she wandered through the jetties, not knowing or caring where she was going. The wound in her side throbbed dully; it was the only sensation that connected her to being human. Sometimes, when her mind gave her a short break, she felt like she wasn’t even there, like the body that was walking around with a gun and a bag was just an illusion and she was a floating entity that could stare out into the sea forever.
But then something would always ruin that peaceful feeling--the vibration in her arms as her gun smashed into Emmett’s back, the image of his floppy body tumbling down into the sea-- and she couldn’t keep these thoughts away from her, no matter how much she fought against them.
She stopped walking and set her bag and her gun down by her feet, looking out at the sea. Staring blankly out into the water, she realized how easy it would be to jump. She could merge with the sea that was so peaceful, so uncaring, and not have to feel anything at all, anymore. The image of Emmett’s body flashed across her mind again, followed by the image of her own body tumbling into the water. As she stepped toward the edge, however, a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she turned her head to see a boy heading towards a cabin that she hadn’t even noticed. She didn’t recognize the boy, but felt herself moving towards him. She picked up her bag and gun and walked in his direction, her steps just as mechanical as they’d been before. The feeling of complete emptiness that had enveloped her just moments before had turned into a kind of magnetic pull that she felt towards the boy and to the cabin where, as she moved closer, she could hear people talking.
Amanda felt unreal as she wandered through the jetties, not knowing or caring where she was going. The wound in her side throbbed dully; it was the only sensation that connected her to being human. Sometimes, when her mind gave her a short break, she felt like she wasn’t even there, like the body that was walking around with a gun and a bag was just an illusion and she was a floating entity that could stare out into the sea forever.
But then something would always ruin that peaceful feeling--the vibration in her arms as her gun smashed into Emmett’s back, the image of his floppy body tumbling down into the sea-- and she couldn’t keep these thoughts away from her, no matter how much she fought against them.
She stopped walking and set her bag and her gun down by her feet, looking out at the sea. Staring blankly out into the water, she realized how easy it would be to jump. She could merge with the sea that was so peaceful, so uncaring, and not have to feel anything at all, anymore. The image of Emmett’s body flashed across her mind again, followed by the image of her own body tumbling into the water. As she stepped toward the edge, however, a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she turned her head to see a boy heading towards a cabin that she hadn’t even noticed. She didn’t recognize the boy, but felt herself moving towards him. She picked up her bag and gun and walked in his direction, her steps just as mechanical as they’d been before. The feeling of complete emptiness that had enveloped her just moments before had turned into a kind of magnetic pull that she felt towards the boy and to the cabin where, as she moved closer, she could hear people talking.
Rhonda looked at Ivan, hoping for something insightful to come out of his mouth, but that was interrupted by whoever the hell this guy was that walked in. She didn't know him, and she didn't trust him, which was only compounded by the fact that his bandanna didn't match hers, so that made him a threat. But then again, Seo-yun had technically been on her team, and she had just tried to murder her, so maybe there was just no point trusting anyone new anymore.
"I'm trying to get out of here." Rhonda grumbled. She really didn't want to deal with whoever this guy was. She only had a limited time to work with, and she wasn't sure if Vas would still be here if she had to leave and come back. And that was even if the danger zones didn't cut her off from it entirely. It was a lot of stress that had to deal with just one decision. She glared at Gregory with a face that didn't particularly exude friendliness.
"And I'm really not in the mood to be fucking bothered right now." She said, hoping that he would get the point. "So if you've got something to say, make it quick."
"I'm trying to get out of here." Rhonda grumbled. She really didn't want to deal with whoever this guy was. She only had a limited time to work with, and she wasn't sure if Vas would still be here if she had to leave and come back. And that was even if the danger zones didn't cut her off from it entirely. It was a lot of stress that had to deal with just one decision. She glared at Gregory with a face that didn't particularly exude friendliness.
"And I'm really not in the mood to be fucking bothered right now." She said, hoping that he would get the point. "So if you've got something to say, make it quick."
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Applesintime
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"Woah, woah, no need for the hostility! I'm tryna get out of here as well!" Technically, not a lie! "Man, I've had a terrible go of it. People keep attacking me, and then I got surprised by some dude who I thought was dead and ended up killing him by accident, and, like, yeah, I'm not dead, but I coulda been!" Ritzy had framed it in such a way that he could claim it was accidental. Like, it hadn't said 'Gregory Miller murderised the fuck outta Cory Cartwright in a way that was totally murderous and intentional, he totally murdered the shit outta him so stay outta his way", it was more "oopsies he did a fucky wucky and killed this guy', so the lie could totally work, he just had to sell it better than a salesman.
"But, yeah, if you guys are tryna do like, a collar thing, I'm totally down to try and help with that! I don't wanna stay on this stupid flotilla where I might get shot or stabbed or like, any other horrible death. What ideas you got?" Wait for Ivan and this girl, uh, Rhonda? Was that her name? Wait for them to sleep, and then slit their throats and slip off with the gun she had; Xander had been shot, after all. He should have done that with Nate. At least then, his death wouldn't have been a fucking waste. Collar explosions, really, who the fuck died from a collar explosion in the year twenty twenty-one? A fucking idiot, that's who. At least he could have been a tag along on his death count, then.
For now, though, he just held his hands up in a friendly gesture. He didn't have anything to hide; the knife was clearly in its sheathe on his leg, and the bolas handle was poking out of the top of his bag, so he could draw it and smack someone on the head with it if he had to. The only thing he was hiding were his true intentions, and even then, he probably sounded a little more cheery when describing how he was attacked and accidentally killed someone than the normal person, but then again, these people knew he was naturally friendly, like a bee!
Well, unless you disturbed it. Then you'd feel the sting.
"But, yeah, if you guys are tryna do like, a collar thing, I'm totally down to try and help with that! I don't wanna stay on this stupid flotilla where I might get shot or stabbed or like, any other horrible death. What ideas you got?" Wait for Ivan and this girl, uh, Rhonda? Was that her name? Wait for them to sleep, and then slit their throats and slip off with the gun she had; Xander had been shot, after all. He should have done that with Nate. At least then, his death wouldn't have been a fucking waste. Collar explosions, really, who the fuck died from a collar explosion in the year twenty twenty-one? A fucking idiot, that's who. At least he could have been a tag along on his death count, then.
For now, though, he just held his hands up in a friendly gesture. He didn't have anything to hide; the knife was clearly in its sheathe on his leg, and the bolas handle was poking out of the top of his bag, so he could draw it and smack someone on the head with it if he had to. The only thing he was hiding were his true intentions, and even then, he probably sounded a little more cheery when describing how he was attacked and accidentally killed someone than the normal person, but then again, these people knew he was naturally friendly, like a bee!
Well, unless you disturbed it. Then you'd feel the sting.
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The Honeless Beard
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While Gregory blathered on, Ivan slowly looked at Rhonda, eyes wide as the... too cheery words spilled out of his mouth. Volunteering information on a kill, general too-upbeat, too-happy demeanor, an all and all awful first impression that was getting worse and worse by the second.
Ivan refocused on Gregory, the hair on the back of his neck standing upright.
"Nobody successful, though," Ivan pointed out regarding the attacks. "We're full up, man. Three's a crowd and all of that. I'm sure you understand."
He pointed to the door with the glass shiv.
Ivan refocused on Gregory, the hair on the back of his neck standing upright.
"Nobody successful, though," Ivan pointed out regarding the attacks. "We're full up, man. Three's a crowd and all of that. I'm sure you understand."
He pointed to the door with the glass shiv.
Luciano strained his ears to listen as he clambered over the side of the sailboat, slowly creeping towards the cabin. He positioned himself against its wall, crouched under one of the its windows, as the snatches of the increasingly tense conversation began to come into focus. Without context, it wasn't possible to be one hundred percent sure of what they were talking about, but from what he had heard so far, it seemed to be some sort of an escape plan.
Come to think of it, despite having had spent countless hours on this godforsaken rock analyzing how he could possible make it home, thoughts of actually escaping hardly crossed his mind. It just seemed so impossible that even attempting it would be at best wasted effort, and at worst, suicide. How many people had even managed to do it in the first place? Perhaps if he had actually watched much of the show he would have been familiar enough with their exploits to actually come up with a plan, but unfortunately, he hadn't.
Any hope Luciano could have had of making his way out with the group in the cabin was soon dragged back down to reality, however, by the other main reason that had precluded his involvement in any sort of escape group. Obviously, these groups didn't accept help from just anybody- they would only take people they could trust, and Luciano himself hadn't given his other classmates any reason to see him as trustworthy. He had never been 'in' with any groups before in his life, always sitting on the sidelines without ever belonging anywhere. If they were already telling people to leave, there was no way he'd be able to persuade them otherwise, not with his poor social skills at least.
So, what were his options then? Running away had been his go-to strategy since the beginning of this ordeal, but it wasn't like he was in any immediate danger, and to have come this far without having anything come of it was hardly an appealing outcome. Maybe the disagreement going in there would escalate to some sort of fight, and he would be able to... clean up the survivors.
The thought of that outcome brought a wave of nausea as he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly one might think he intended to strangle it. Sure, he had thought about this before, and he knew it was mandatory to get at least one kill in order to go home, but with the opportunity so close at hand, the full weight of what that entailed became crystal clear. He swallowed, hard, as he continued leaning against the side of the cabin, trying his best to quiet his breathing as not to be heard. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter - it was going to happen either now or later, so why not now?
Unfortunately, his internal debate was to for now remain unsolved, as the appearance of girl on the docks suddenly commanded his attention. It was too dark for him to recognize her face, at least until she got closer. As for his own, it had turned a ghostly pale, an irrational sense of guilt coming over him, as if she had been able to hear his internal planning session. There was one thing that he did know for sure, and that was if either he or the girl made enough noise to alert the trio inside the cabin, he'd be in big trouble. Without being able to speak, he did the one thing that he could think of - he looked towards her and put a finger to his lips, hoping that she'd go along with his signal, at least for now.
Come to think of it, despite having had spent countless hours on this godforsaken rock analyzing how he could possible make it home, thoughts of actually escaping hardly crossed his mind. It just seemed so impossible that even attempting it would be at best wasted effort, and at worst, suicide. How many people had even managed to do it in the first place? Perhaps if he had actually watched much of the show he would have been familiar enough with their exploits to actually come up with a plan, but unfortunately, he hadn't.
Any hope Luciano could have had of making his way out with the group in the cabin was soon dragged back down to reality, however, by the other main reason that had precluded his involvement in any sort of escape group. Obviously, these groups didn't accept help from just anybody- they would only take people they could trust, and Luciano himself hadn't given his other classmates any reason to see him as trustworthy. He had never been 'in' with any groups before in his life, always sitting on the sidelines without ever belonging anywhere. If they were already telling people to leave, there was no way he'd be able to persuade them otherwise, not with his poor social skills at least.
So, what were his options then? Running away had been his go-to strategy since the beginning of this ordeal, but it wasn't like he was in any immediate danger, and to have come this far without having anything come of it was hardly an appealing outcome. Maybe the disagreement going in there would escalate to some sort of fight, and he would be able to... clean up the survivors.
The thought of that outcome brought a wave of nausea as he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly one might think he intended to strangle it. Sure, he had thought about this before, and he knew it was mandatory to get at least one kill in order to go home, but with the opportunity so close at hand, the full weight of what that entailed became crystal clear. He swallowed, hard, as he continued leaning against the side of the cabin, trying his best to quiet his breathing as not to be heard. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter - it was going to happen either now or later, so why not now?
Unfortunately, his internal debate was to for now remain unsolved, as the appearance of girl on the docks suddenly commanded his attention. It was too dark for him to recognize her face, at least until she got closer. As for his own, it had turned a ghostly pale, an irrational sense of guilt coming over him, as if she had been able to hear his internal planning session. There was one thing that he did know for sure, and that was if either he or the girl made enough noise to alert the trio inside the cabin, he'd be in big trouble. Without being able to speak, he did the one thing that he could think of - he looked towards her and put a finger to his lips, hoping that she'd go along with his signal, at least for now.
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Spindarene
- Posts: 252
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 11:34 pm
As Amanda got closer, she could see the boy's features. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember his name. She'd see him in a class or two or in the hallways, but he'd always been so quiet that she'd never really paid much attention to him. To be honest, she'd sort of forgotten that he existed until she saw him standing in front of her.
However, what she saw now was this guy standing by the doorway to the cabin, holding onto an old-fashioned looking sword, positioned like he was about to go in for an ambush but looking scared. He motioned for her to be quiet. She nodded in response.
She wasn't sure how many people were in the cabin, but from what she could make out from the muffled voices in there, it sounded like at least two or three. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice told her that the smartest idea would be to let this guy try to take out the people in the cabin on his own, that she really didn't have a reason to get involved. The thought of turning around and leaving only to continue wandering around alone quickly shut that voice up.
Maybe she could help this guy out. If he'd wanted to attack her he would have done it by now. And she didn't want to attack him. And, as unpleasant as it was, this was a convenient opportunity for her to get more kills. The very thought of killing more people made her want to throw up, but she pushed it down.
Instead, she inched closer and was about to raise her gun to point it at the cabin when she remembered that she hadn't reloaded it since her shooting spree at the other jetties. She hesitated. She needed to reload her gun, but the damn thing was so ungodly loud with everything it did that reloading it right by the door would be sure to attract the attention of the people inside.
After a few seconds of hesitation she gave the guy with the sword a little smile to show that she didn't mean him any harm, and then moved back along the jetty a few feet away from the cabin to reload her gun.
However, what she saw now was this guy standing by the doorway to the cabin, holding onto an old-fashioned looking sword, positioned like he was about to go in for an ambush but looking scared. He motioned for her to be quiet. She nodded in response.
She wasn't sure how many people were in the cabin, but from what she could make out from the muffled voices in there, it sounded like at least two or three. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice told her that the smartest idea would be to let this guy try to take out the people in the cabin on his own, that she really didn't have a reason to get involved. The thought of turning around and leaving only to continue wandering around alone quickly shut that voice up.
Maybe she could help this guy out. If he'd wanted to attack her he would have done it by now. And she didn't want to attack him. And, as unpleasant as it was, this was a convenient opportunity for her to get more kills. The very thought of killing more people made her want to throw up, but she pushed it down.
Instead, she inched closer and was about to raise her gun to point it at the cabin when she remembered that she hadn't reloaded it since her shooting spree at the other jetties. She hesitated. She needed to reload her gun, but the damn thing was so ungodly loud with everything it did that reloading it right by the door would be sure to attract the attention of the people inside.
After a few seconds of hesitation she gave the guy with the sword a little smile to show that she didn't mean him any harm, and then moved back along the jetty a few feet away from the cabin to reload her gun.