((G035 start - Ash Morrison))
This was not a favourable situation. There were too many people nearby. Ash peered out of the empty dumpster for a second to keep track of what was going on. Two males. They walked past the alleyway earlier. A girl was on the floor. But that was all that she could see. Were there more? She sat back down, letting the cover fall and shroud her in darkness again. She needed a plan. Surviving this so-called 'game' was impossible without one. But even if she thought things through and 'played' in a smart way, her chances of living through this were practically nil. Ash had to face the facts: It was pretty much guaranteed that her life would end within this week, if not this very day.
This should not be happening. None of this should be happening. Why?
She placed her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them awkwardly as the collar restricted her neck's movement. Unfair. Absolutely unfair. None of them deserved to suffer in a 'game' like this. This was just a sick and twisted show, put on for a man who obviously loved to see carnage and misery. They didn't even have a chance to fight back against him. One step out of line and they would be killed by the explosives around their necks. She groped around for her backpack, finding it after a few seconds of searching. No, this wouldn't stand. If she was fated to become a victim of this 'game', she wouldn't make it easy for them to take her life.
I can't let them get me. What can I do? What are my options?
First things first, she had to get a weapon. Find it, scavenge it, whatever it took. Ash couldn't defend herself properly without something better than a lamp. Even if she had to kill.... She closed her eyes. No, she didn't have to go that far. Okay, she would stop at beating somebody unconscious. Loose ends would be left, but it was a damn sight better than starting a killing spree. Of course, none of this could be done if she didn't leave the dumpster. She lifted the cover up slightly to check her surroundings. Nobody was looking? Good.
She put on her backpack, opened the box up fully, and climbed out. She quickly made her way to the opposite side of the alleyway, scooted over to the corner and peeked around it for a second before drawing her head back behind cover. The girl was on the floor, but there were two different people nearby. Another girl, and a guy she didn't know. This was bad. What would happen if the girl got- No, she couldn't think of helping others. Her survival had to come before others. The regret in her mind didn't show on her face, which remained calm and cool as if she didn't have a care in the world.
A Pit Stop of Sorts
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ET.Requiem*
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:14 am
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Sunnybunny
- Posts: 400
- Joined: Fri May 17, 2019 7:35 pm
((Samya Franklin countinued from The Final Countdown))
It felt like it took forever to get out of the tunnels. Still, she was glad to be in the sun, and glad to not be alone. It seemed as if they in were in a town. It was a ghost town, mind you, but it still brought her some measure of comfort. Had people lived in this town recently? It looked super-abandoned but you never really knew about these things.
She had stopped dropping M&M's once they had gotten into town. They were running low, and she really didn't want to give them all away. No telling how long they'd be here. Zach went off deeper into the town. She wasn't too worried at the moment, when it came down to it Zach was a pretty tough cookie. A lot tougher than she was, if she was being honest.
It could be worse. Somehow. At least Abigail wasn't here, she'd never really recovered from that whole debate meeting. She had throw herself into her studies, and didn't even talk to Sammy anymore. Stupid Ilario. Sammy took a minute to read a bit of the gun's instuction book. Who knew busting a cap could be so complicated? Samya had kept the gun in her hand during the walk, it was better to be safe, right?
"Sam, get your butt over here. I need some help here. This dead girl ain't so dead."
Whaaaa?
Sammy hightailed it to the sound of Zach's voice.
And for a second, she wished he'd called someone else. This was just ugly. Kris (and she knew Kris, liked her, fellow skater girl and all) was lying in the middle of the street, near vomit, with a gun grasped in her hands. Sammy didn't know how'd she gotten that way, but all the possiblities were bad. Was this what Survival of the Fittest was supposed to be?
Sammy tried to ignore the smell, and kneeled beside Kris's prone body. "Hun, sit her up and pat her back. She could still choke.", she said, as firmly as she had ever said anything. Debate Sammy had returned and she was grateful for it. She noticed the gun again. It did not look like they could pry that thing from her without getting hurt. She sighed, stood up. Leveled the gun at Kris's chest.
My God, please please please, if you care anything about us at all, don't make me pull this trigger.
Her voice shook this time, but her intentions were still firm. "Zach, make sure you stay behind her, out of her shooting range. She might be startled when she wakes up." Looking around briefly, she noticed two guys walking away from them, from Kris who was freaking dying. She didn't know who they were, and right now she really didn't care.
"Hey you guys!", she shouted. "I know it's not the safest, but please come back and help us! She's my friend . . . and I promise we won't hurt you. I'll do my best to make sure won't either."
It felt like it took forever to get out of the tunnels. Still, she was glad to be in the sun, and glad to not be alone. It seemed as if they in were in a town. It was a ghost town, mind you, but it still brought her some measure of comfort. Had people lived in this town recently? It looked super-abandoned but you never really knew about these things.
She had stopped dropping M&M's once they had gotten into town. They were running low, and she really didn't want to give them all away. No telling how long they'd be here. Zach went off deeper into the town. She wasn't too worried at the moment, when it came down to it Zach was a pretty tough cookie. A lot tougher than she was, if she was being honest.
It could be worse. Somehow. At least Abigail wasn't here, she'd never really recovered from that whole debate meeting. She had throw herself into her studies, and didn't even talk to Sammy anymore. Stupid Ilario. Sammy took a minute to read a bit of the gun's instuction book. Who knew busting a cap could be so complicated? Samya had kept the gun in her hand during the walk, it was better to be safe, right?
"Sam, get your butt over here. I need some help here. This dead girl ain't so dead."
Whaaaa?
Sammy hightailed it to the sound of Zach's voice.
And for a second, she wished he'd called someone else. This was just ugly. Kris (and she knew Kris, liked her, fellow skater girl and all) was lying in the middle of the street, near vomit, with a gun grasped in her hands. Sammy didn't know how'd she gotten that way, but all the possiblities were bad. Was this what Survival of the Fittest was supposed to be?
Sammy tried to ignore the smell, and kneeled beside Kris's prone body. "Hun, sit her up and pat her back. She could still choke.", she said, as firmly as she had ever said anything. Debate Sammy had returned and she was grateful for it. She noticed the gun again. It did not look like they could pry that thing from her without getting hurt. She sighed, stood up. Leveled the gun at Kris's chest.
My God, please please please, if you care anything about us at all, don't make me pull this trigger.
Her voice shook this time, but her intentions were still firm. "Zach, make sure you stay behind her, out of her shooting range. She might be startled when she wakes up." Looking around briefly, she noticed two guys walking away from them, from Kris who was freaking dying. She didn't know who they were, and right now she really didn't care.
"Hey you guys!", she shouted. "I know it's not the safest, but please come back and help us! She's my friend . . . and I promise we won't hurt you. I'll do my best to make sure won't either."
VII
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
((Post order changed with permission from Clu, apparently))
Voices. Sam and Zach, from what he gathered of their conversation. He didn't know a Sam or a Zach. No reason to come out, then. Christ almighty, they were coming out of the fucking woodwork now. And now the voices were acknowledging their presence. Fucking shit! He even visibly mouthed the words this time. They'd been seen. Not good. He wasn't going to make a move just yet, so he stayed in place, back against the wall. He needed more control of this situation. He turned to Simon, then gave his bag a glance. Then back to Simon. Back to the bag. If I had that gun, we could make it out of this unscathed. Everyone involved could come out of this alive.
He scratched a message into the dirt. "NO ONE HAS TO DIE," specifically. He then pointed to the pack with the weapon in it, before motioning for Simon to hand it over. If he just works with me on this, everything will be just fine.
"I HAVE A PLAN"
He didn't have a plan, of course, but he could fake it if he had to.
Voices. Sam and Zach, from what he gathered of their conversation. He didn't know a Sam or a Zach. No reason to come out, then. Christ almighty, they were coming out of the fucking woodwork now. And now the voices were acknowledging their presence. Fucking shit! He even visibly mouthed the words this time. They'd been seen. Not good. He wasn't going to make a move just yet, so he stayed in place, back against the wall. He needed more control of this situation. He turned to Simon, then gave his bag a glance. Then back to Simon. Back to the bag. If I had that gun, we could make it out of this unscathed. Everyone involved could come out of this alive.
He scratched a message into the dirt. "NO ONE HAS TO DIE," specifically. He then pointed to the pack with the weapon in it, before motioning for Simon to hand it over. If he just works with me on this, everything will be just fine.
"I HAVE A PLAN"
He didn't have a plan, of course, but he could fake it if he had to.
There were more people now, faces Simon recognized from school. Maybe not close friends, but kids that he had shared classes with, seen in the hallways, heard stories about. It's unbelievable, this game. I can't...why us? Why did we have to be the ones stuck here? But the world wasn't fair, and he didn't have time to dwell on it now. The other kids, the ones braver than him, were trying to save the girl right off the bat.
Well, good for them. I bet they didn't worry about their own safety first. I bet they didn't even think of observing at a safe difference before acting. Maybe they didn't even consider that she was a murderer. Simon always thought that he would act like them, under extreme stress. But he knew that he was wrong now.
The new girl, who Simon knew was Sam, held a gun against the fallen girl and told her partner to step behind her. They were sitting her up now, the girl still unconscious. Simon turned turned to R.J., to ask him what he thought they should do. The boy had written more words on the ground. "NO ONE HAS TO DIE. I HAVE A PLAN." He wanted the gun.
Did he trust R.J.? Yes, the guy had proved even-headed, more so than himself. Did he want to part with his gun? Did he not think that if he gave it, his only boon in this whole fucking game, away, he wouldn't die within ten minutes?
Simon opened his pack and handed the pistol to R.J. You're an idiot, Fletcher, an idiot. "If anyone tries openly to kill someone else, then shoot." He muttered under his breath. "But I guess I don't need to tell you that." To be honest, that was probably part of the boy's plan.
He walked quickly to the group. "Um, hi." This was probably not the time for his usual introduction. Simon's face was red, whether from nervousness, shame, or just pressure he didn't know. He looked down at the unconscious girl and when he spoke, his voice was weak. "Don't sit her up. We need to lay her flat, for blood flow." That was one of the things you were supposed to do when someone fainted, right? His head was hurting, and there was a buzzing noise in his ears.
Simon didn't know what was wrong with the girl, and the though that she might die hung over him. Focus. Your parents are doctors, you spent your childhood with medical textbooks. You can handle this. The girl wasn't wearing any tight clothing he had to loosen. He turned her head to the side (very nervously, as if she might awaken at any time to shot him) because he was pretty sure that prevented choking. She was breathing, so she wasn't choking now at least. Probably. No! Stop thinking like that. Focus! Another thing Simon could remember was to lift the victim's legs, which seemed like one of the more dangerous things he could try right now.
You're worried about that? You're unarmed, with three kids with guns around you. So Simon picked up the girl's legs and raised them off the ground about a foot. He turned to the other two.
"Do either of you have water?" He asked. He voice was still shaky, but at least the buzzing had stopped.
Well, good for them. I bet they didn't worry about their own safety first. I bet they didn't even think of observing at a safe difference before acting. Maybe they didn't even consider that she was a murderer. Simon always thought that he would act like them, under extreme stress. But he knew that he was wrong now.
The new girl, who Simon knew was Sam, held a gun against the fallen girl and told her partner to step behind her. They were sitting her up now, the girl still unconscious. Simon turned turned to R.J., to ask him what he thought they should do. The boy had written more words on the ground. "NO ONE HAS TO DIE. I HAVE A PLAN." He wanted the gun.
Did he trust R.J.? Yes, the guy had proved even-headed, more so than himself. Did he want to part with his gun? Did he not think that if he gave it, his only boon in this whole fucking game, away, he wouldn't die within ten minutes?
Simon opened his pack and handed the pistol to R.J. You're an idiot, Fletcher, an idiot. "If anyone tries openly to kill someone else, then shoot." He muttered under his breath. "But I guess I don't need to tell you that." To be honest, that was probably part of the boy's plan.
He walked quickly to the group. "Um, hi." This was probably not the time for his usual introduction. Simon's face was red, whether from nervousness, shame, or just pressure he didn't know. He looked down at the unconscious girl and when he spoke, his voice was weak. "Don't sit her up. We need to lay her flat, for blood flow." That was one of the things you were supposed to do when someone fainted, right? His head was hurting, and there was a buzzing noise in his ears.
Simon didn't know what was wrong with the girl, and the though that she might die hung over him. Focus. Your parents are doctors, you spent your childhood with medical textbooks. You can handle this. The girl wasn't wearing any tight clothing he had to loosen. He turned her head to the side (very nervously, as if she might awaken at any time to shot him) because he was pretty sure that prevented choking. She was breathing, so she wasn't choking now at least. Probably. No! Stop thinking like that. Focus! Another thing Simon could remember was to lift the victim's legs, which seemed like one of the more dangerous things he could try right now.
You're worried about that? You're unarmed, with three kids with guns around you. So Simon picked up the girl's legs and raised them off the ground about a foot. He turned to the other two.
"Do either of you have water?" He asked. He voice was still shaky, but at least the buzzing had stopped.
Why the hell did Zach have to be the one to save this girl? Couldn't Samya do it, seeing as she was the queen of saving choking victims? Jesus christ. Zach just sighed and stared at Samya. He didn't tell her off or anything though. Zach didn't have the patience to argue with her anyway. His patience was thin to begin with. He looked down at Kris, hooking one arm around her neck. It was an awkward hold on the girl, after all there was vomit everywhere and he did not want to go stepping in that shit.
"Alright chick I don't know," Zach whispered, lifting Kris up off of the ground. "Don't go choking on Zach here."
Zach patted her back absentmindedly, trying to keep her in a sitting position with his other arm. He felt like a friggin pretzel. All the while he looked up. Shit. He hadn't noticed those goons over there. Apparently they had been looking at him and Sam the entire time, completely ignoring the fact that there was a girl laying face down on the ground.
The fuck were they waiting for? A written invitation? Sam had just told them to get over here. Zach looked down at the passed out girl in his arm before looking back. They were... What? What the heck? Did that guy just pass something, or was he seeing things? What were they doing?!
"I don't like this wait Sam," Zach whispered. "I think they're upto something."
Before he could do anything else, the boy, uhh, Scott? Shit this was bad, he should know this guy's name. The boy wanted to help apparently, turning the girl's head and while Zach had no idea whether this shit would help heck better him than Zach. He lowered Kris to the ground and let Simon do whatever he wanted. He brushed his pants off, getting up to his feet quickly.
"You think you know what you're doing Doc?" Zach said with a hint of sarcasm, not being able to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Just being paranoid. Suck it up. His bag had a bottle of water in it. He opened his bag and threw the bottle at Simon. "You'll be needing this alot more than me, believe me."
Zach looked up. "Hey Scarface, stop staring at us and get over here.!"
"Alright chick I don't know," Zach whispered, lifting Kris up off of the ground. "Don't go choking on Zach here."
Zach patted her back absentmindedly, trying to keep her in a sitting position with his other arm. He felt like a friggin pretzel. All the while he looked up. Shit. He hadn't noticed those goons over there. Apparently they had been looking at him and Sam the entire time, completely ignoring the fact that there was a girl laying face down on the ground.
The fuck were they waiting for? A written invitation? Sam had just told them to get over here. Zach looked down at the passed out girl in his arm before looking back. They were... What? What the heck? Did that guy just pass something, or was he seeing things? What were they doing?!
"I don't like this wait Sam," Zach whispered. "I think they're upto something."
Before he could do anything else, the boy, uhh, Scott? Shit this was bad, he should know this guy's name. The boy wanted to help apparently, turning the girl's head and while Zach had no idea whether this shit would help heck better him than Zach. He lowered Kris to the ground and let Simon do whatever he wanted. He brushed his pants off, getting up to his feet quickly.
"You think you know what you're doing Doc?" Zach said with a hint of sarcasm, not being able to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Just being paranoid. Suck it up. His bag had a bottle of water in it. He opened his bag and threw the bottle at Simon. "You'll be needing this alot more than me, believe me."
Zach looked up. "Hey Scarface, stop staring at us and get over here.!"
((Skipping on account of waiting-too-longness))
Running. A mad dash, heart thumping, a stitch grinding at her side. Breaths short, panicked. Surroundings rush past. Trees, plants, plain dirt. Fleeing from? Etain. Kimberly. Reika. Everyone, maybe. Nobody, perhaps. She doesn't know, her mind is panicked, she can't gather her thoughts.
Kris just knows... knows to keep going. Has to. Burning compulsion... no. A fear. Fear of pursuit. Memory falters, but she must keep ahead. The pains, bile crawling in her throat, must be pushed aside. No choice. No alternatives. Feet pound the soil, stumble over unseen obstructions. A trip, Kris gasps - knees grazed. Rolls to her feet, sprints anew. Small pain, easily blocked. Unimportant.
Holding something, clenching tight. Grip so hard it hurts. She spares a moment, looks down, chokes. Blood, drenched, forearm masked with crimson. Bleeding? No... no, not hers. Her hand... twisted, obscene. It holds a gun. It's held by a gun. Dark tendrils weave between pistol and fingers, linked, bound. She tries to open the fist. No response. Own mind, not hers.
Kris is enraptured, horrified. Grabs at the gun with the other hand, pulls. No budge, the tendrils locked tight around her, deep red tentacles burrowing into her arm. So taken with the display, she ceases to run.
"He-hello?"
She whips around, the gun fires. Reika is already falling in a red mist. Impossibly large, it fans out from the body and sweeps on. Kris turns and flees, the cloud of blood threatening to engulf her. She makes little distance, a slam, a collision. Kris falls back to the ground, the beginnings of a scream, then ...within.
She sees nothing. Nothing but red. Warm droplets fall, pelted, assaulted. Drowning in the tide. A scramble to the feet, choking, breathing nothing but blood. A blind stagger forward, a bump. Somebody there? The mist parts...
""If you're going to shoot, shoot, if-"
Kris does. Kimberly drops.
A grasp on her ankle. She shrieks, looks down. A hand from the soil, pallid, dead. Another erupts alongside it, grasps. More emerge from the blood fog, tearing at hair, clothes, limbs. Anything in reach. Seizing, twisting, accusing. Kris opens fire, all directions, no effect, no end to the hands, bearing her down now. Struggling, flailing, pulling free briefly but always ensnared again. Dragging... Dragging down to-
Kris let out an ear-piercing scream at the feeling of a grip on her legs as she snapped into consciousness without being aware of her surroundings or the people in them. Kris lashed out with both feet at the same time towards the person holding her, an aimless blow fueled by panic. She began thrashing around on the ground, trying to break the grip, real or imagined.
Her first coherent thought was yelled to the heavens.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!"
Running. A mad dash, heart thumping, a stitch grinding at her side. Breaths short, panicked. Surroundings rush past. Trees, plants, plain dirt. Fleeing from? Etain. Kimberly. Reika. Everyone, maybe. Nobody, perhaps. She doesn't know, her mind is panicked, she can't gather her thoughts.
Kris just knows... knows to keep going. Has to. Burning compulsion... no. A fear. Fear of pursuit. Memory falters, but she must keep ahead. The pains, bile crawling in her throat, must be pushed aside. No choice. No alternatives. Feet pound the soil, stumble over unseen obstructions. A trip, Kris gasps - knees grazed. Rolls to her feet, sprints anew. Small pain, easily blocked. Unimportant.
Holding something, clenching tight. Grip so hard it hurts. She spares a moment, looks down, chokes. Blood, drenched, forearm masked with crimson. Bleeding? No... no, not hers. Her hand... twisted, obscene. It holds a gun. It's held by a gun. Dark tendrils weave between pistol and fingers, linked, bound. She tries to open the fist. No response. Own mind, not hers.
Kris is enraptured, horrified. Grabs at the gun with the other hand, pulls. No budge, the tendrils locked tight around her, deep red tentacles burrowing into her arm. So taken with the display, she ceases to run.
"He-hello?"
She whips around, the gun fires. Reika is already falling in a red mist. Impossibly large, it fans out from the body and sweeps on. Kris turns and flees, the cloud of blood threatening to engulf her. She makes little distance, a slam, a collision. Kris falls back to the ground, the beginnings of a scream, then ...within.
She sees nothing. Nothing but red. Warm droplets fall, pelted, assaulted. Drowning in the tide. A scramble to the feet, choking, breathing nothing but blood. A blind stagger forward, a bump. Somebody there? The mist parts...
""If you're going to shoot, shoot, if-"
Kris does. Kimberly drops.
A grasp on her ankle. She shrieks, looks down. A hand from the soil, pallid, dead. Another erupts alongside it, grasps. More emerge from the blood fog, tearing at hair, clothes, limbs. Anything in reach. Seizing, twisting, accusing. Kris opens fire, all directions, no effect, no end to the hands, bearing her down now. Struggling, flailing, pulling free briefly but always ensnared again. Dragging... Dragging down to-
Kris let out an ear-piercing scream at the feeling of a grip on her legs as she snapped into consciousness without being aware of her surroundings or the people in them. Kris lashed out with both feet at the same time towards the person holding her, an aimless blow fueled by panic. She began thrashing around on the ground, trying to break the grip, real or imagined.
Her first coherent thought was yelled to the heavens.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!"
((OOC: Sorry to Fri'chickenisha, but it made more sense to just go ahead with this.))
That shouldn't have been nearly so easy.
R.J. tucked the gun away in the back of his pants, covering it with his shirt. He stayed close behind Simon, ready to draw at a moment's notice if necessary. The one guy decided to go ahead and get snarky with him, which grated on him a bit, considering how on edge he was. The fuck do you think I'm doing, you little cockhoover? Still, it wasn't in his nature to let simple words get to him, so he rolled his eyes and shrugged it off. Mostly, anyway. The "scarface" bit stuck in his mind. He did wear a scarf for a reason, after all. Go figure that as soon as he stuffed it away, someone would-
Someone would let out the shrillest goddamn scream he'd ever heard, apparently. Jesus tapdancing fuck! R.J. winced as the girl - Kris Herman, he recognized her as - screamed loud enough to disturb his eardrums.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!"
R.J. didn't know if that was a real word. He didn't have time to wonder, as he instinctively fumbled around his shirt and pulled the GP6 right back out, pointing it straight at the girl's head. This is precisely why I wanted to fucking hide, and you two assholes had to go and drag me into a fucking shitstorm, didn't you? His hands gripped the pistol tightly, index finger just outside the trigger guard and ready to go if Kris decided to really lose her shit. His eyes went wide. His whole body trembled like he was running a jackhammer. At that moment, as he gazed down the weapon's sight, he was just as terrified of himself as he was of anything else. For the love of god, woman, don't make me do something I'll regret here.
That shouldn't have been nearly so easy.
R.J. tucked the gun away in the back of his pants, covering it with his shirt. He stayed close behind Simon, ready to draw at a moment's notice if necessary. The one guy decided to go ahead and get snarky with him, which grated on him a bit, considering how on edge he was. The fuck do you think I'm doing, you little cockhoover? Still, it wasn't in his nature to let simple words get to him, so he rolled his eyes and shrugged it off. Mostly, anyway. The "scarface" bit stuck in his mind. He did wear a scarf for a reason, after all. Go figure that as soon as he stuffed it away, someone would-
Someone would let out the shrillest goddamn scream he'd ever heard, apparently. Jesus tapdancing fuck! R.J. winced as the girl - Kris Herman, he recognized her as - screamed loud enough to disturb his eardrums.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!"
R.J. didn't know if that was a real word. He didn't have time to wonder, as he instinctively fumbled around his shirt and pulled the GP6 right back out, pointing it straight at the girl's head. This is precisely why I wanted to fucking hide, and you two assholes had to go and drag me into a fucking shitstorm, didn't you? His hands gripped the pistol tightly, index finger just outside the trigger guard and ready to go if Kris decided to really lose her shit. His eyes went wide. His whole body trembled like he was running a jackhammer. At that moment, as he gazed down the weapon's sight, he was just as terrified of himself as he was of anything else. For the love of god, woman, don't make me do something I'll regret here.
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Sunnybunny
- Posts: 400
- Joined: Fri May 17, 2019 7:35 pm
((No problems with the order skip here. Gotta keep the ball rolling.))
This was . . . bad. That might have been the understatement of the millennia, but this was really bad. Three guns. Was there any way this could end well?
And if they made it out of this, she'd ask Zack what a kuksugares was. It seemed the type of word he would know. Oh, what to do, what to DO? For all her talk for heroism, Sammy had no idea what move to make at this point. Debate Samya had gone again, leaving the scared Sammy behind to deal with all this. Stupid alterego. She started shaking again. What if Kris fired? What if that other guy (and it was her stupid fault, she never should have called them over here) fired? This was entirely too much for her to deal with right now.
Maybe she should think of something less stressful.
Like WHAT?!?
"Kris, please stop screaming. You are the second screaming girl I've heard today. Do you have any clue what's going on around here? Where you are?", she attempted to say calmly, to soothe Kris's nerves. In reality, her own nerves were shot and she sounded like she had the coffee jitters. Oh maybe the "I might have to shoot someone in the face in the next minute" jitters.
The gun was still pointed at Kris, but if worse came to worse, she'd aim at that other guy too. Would she shoot? Who knew?
Either way, Sheriff Sammy had found herself in a Mexican standoff. She smiled, though it came out more like a grimace.
"Can we all just calm down, please?
This was . . . bad. That might have been the understatement of the millennia, but this was really bad. Three guns. Was there any way this could end well?
And if they made it out of this, she'd ask Zack what a kuksugares was. It seemed the type of word he would know. Oh, what to do, what to DO? For all her talk for heroism, Sammy had no idea what move to make at this point. Debate Samya had gone again, leaving the scared Sammy behind to deal with all this. Stupid alterego. She started shaking again. What if Kris fired? What if that other guy (and it was her stupid fault, she never should have called them over here) fired? This was entirely too much for her to deal with right now.
Maybe she should think of something less stressful.
Like WHAT?!?
"Kris, please stop screaming. You are the second screaming girl I've heard today. Do you have any clue what's going on around here? Where you are?", she attempted to say calmly, to soothe Kris's nerves. In reality, her own nerves were shot and she sounded like she had the coffee jitters. Oh maybe the "I might have to shoot someone in the face in the next minute" jitters.
The gun was still pointed at Kris, but if worse came to worse, she'd aim at that other guy too. Would she shoot? Who knew?
Either way, Sheriff Sammy had found herself in a Mexican standoff. She smiled, though it came out more like a grimace.
"Can we all just calm down, please?
VII
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
Simon felt the girl start to move, slowly at first. He opened his mouth to tell everyone that she would be alright before her feet hit him square in the knees. Simon fell backwards, letting go of her legs. Since the girl was no longer unconscious, it wasn't like there was a point to the action anymore. He landed almost flat on his back, the rocks on the ground ripping his light shirt and drawing blood. The buzzing in his head he had been so happy to escape was back, and now accompanied by a throbbing ache. Still, these injuries were minor compared to what could happen to Simon next.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!" The girl screamed, thrashing around wildly.
A part of Simon's mind thought 'Oh, is that German? I'm sorry, I don't understand'. All of the other parts were busy being terrified. The girl had a gun, Sam had a gun, R.J. had a gun, and he was laying on the ground with only a paper fortune and a rather sharp stick. Wonderful odds, really, but if shooting started, he was right in the crossfire.
And who's to blame for your position? You threw away your gun. You chose to help someone who you knew nothing about. What was that saying, Fletcher? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...
The first idea Simon was able to form was to run away. It had worked once before, and it would have worked again if he'd gone through with the plan and not ran back to play at doctor. But this time any sudden movements could mean his death, and he would have to take his chances with the rest of the students of the island. So running wasn't an option. That was a pity.
The only thing Simon could really do in his situation was to stay where was was. He brought himself to a sitting position, and quickly scanned the area immediately around him. There were rocks, a couple sticks, some more rocks, and the water bottle Zach had lobbed at Simon. His hands had been already occupied, so he failed to catch it when it was thrown.
Sam's gun was out now, but she was calling for them to calm down. That's right. Don't panic, Simon, remember what you were doing in the first place.
He rolled the water bottle to the girl's, Kris', feet. "You should drink. Vomiting and fainting pretty much messed with your body fairly bad." Not to mention stress. "Water will help." He kept his palms open and away from his bag. God knows if anyone saw him move even an inch toward anyplace a weapon could be concealed, he was dead.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!" The girl screamed, thrashing around wildly.
A part of Simon's mind thought 'Oh, is that German? I'm sorry, I don't understand'. All of the other parts were busy being terrified. The girl had a gun, Sam had a gun, R.J. had a gun, and he was laying on the ground with only a paper fortune and a rather sharp stick. Wonderful odds, really, but if shooting started, he was right in the crossfire.
And who's to blame for your position? You threw away your gun. You chose to help someone who you knew nothing about. What was that saying, Fletcher? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...
The first idea Simon was able to form was to run away. It had worked once before, and it would have worked again if he'd gone through with the plan and not ran back to play at doctor. But this time any sudden movements could mean his death, and he would have to take his chances with the rest of the students of the island. So running wasn't an option. That was a pity.
The only thing Simon could really do in his situation was to stay where was was. He brought himself to a sitting position, and quickly scanned the area immediately around him. There were rocks, a couple sticks, some more rocks, and the water bottle Zach had lobbed at Simon. His hands had been already occupied, so he failed to catch it when it was thrown.
Sam's gun was out now, but she was calling for them to calm down. That's right. Don't panic, Simon, remember what you were doing in the first place.
He rolled the water bottle to the girl's, Kris', feet. "You should drink. Vomiting and fainting pretty much messed with your body fairly bad." Not to mention stress. "Water will help." He kept his palms open and away from his bag. God knows if anyone saw him move even an inch toward anyplace a weapon could be concealed, he was dead.
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ET.Requiem*
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:14 am
Ash covered her mouth. This was not going well. She crouched down and took another quick look at the situation. The girl on the ground was pointing her gun at one of the guys. The guy she was aiming at as well as one of the girls were aiming at her. Ducking back behind cover, she sat down and thought this over. If those three shot each other, it could possibly lead to one of the others getting their guns and going nuts on the others.
That was not something that she wanted to witness. But it would benefit her greatly if they all died.... No, what the hell was she thinking? Ash put her hands on her face. It hadn't even been 5 minutes since she decided not to kill in cold blood, and already she was thinking about proxy murders?
This 'game' was messing with her head. She was thinking about what was convenient for her, instead of what she felt was right.
In any case, exposing herself was not a good idea. She wasn't going to make this situation any better by showing up and trying to broker a peace between the three gunslingers. The only thing she could do was wait and hope that this didn't turn into a horrible massacre.
"Please don't kill each other, please don't kill each other...." She whispered to herself. This would not turn out well.
That was not something that she wanted to witness. But it would benefit her greatly if they all died.... No, what the hell was she thinking? Ash put her hands on her face. It hadn't even been 5 minutes since she decided not to kill in cold blood, and already she was thinking about proxy murders?
This 'game' was messing with her head. She was thinking about what was convenient for her, instead of what she felt was right.
In any case, exposing herself was not a good idea. She wasn't going to make this situation any better by showing up and trying to broker a peace between the three gunslingers. The only thing she could do was wait and hope that this didn't turn into a horrible massacre.
"Please don't kill each other, please don't kill each other...." She whispered to herself. This would not turn out well.
Kuksugares. Great. Zach had to get near a girl who spoke Swedish. Jesus christ.
The thrashing around didn't alarm Zach so much. It made him sigh though. This was really the last thing he needed - a girl thrashing on the ground like a retarded baby. Sure, the girl had a gun and that was kind of freak in the sense that at any time she could just pull it out and start blowing people's heads off. Zach just didn't care. Fuck, it's not like she reached for it yet, why should he care?
Zach just realized that his cigarette was out. Shit. He hated when that happened. Zach fished into his pocket and pulled his lighter out and lit it again. Better. Much better. He inhaled and turned his head away.
"Chill the hell out," Zach told the thrashing girl, not lifting a finger to help Simon. Not his problem. Maybe he could slap Kris across the face. "The Doc's just trying to help you. You don't want to die, right?"
It occurred to him that Kris would be surprised even if Simon hadn't been helping her. Heck, she would probably be thrashing on the floor even if they weren't centered around in her. Not that Zach cared, she could go waddle in her own vomit for all he cared. All of the trouble he went through to help her and this was what he got in return? Last time he helped a random girl he found laying face down in her own vomit, that was for damn sure. He almost stepped in that shit.
It surprised Zach that both Scarface and Sam had their guns out like shit was about to go down. He looked up and bam, Samya had her gun pointed at Kris. It was the first time he registered the fear that was buried deep in his chest. For fucks sake, what the hell was she doing?
"Hey!" Zach growled, staring daggers at Samya. "Chill the fuck out Sam! You ain't helpin'! Try to calm your friggin friend down instead of doing THAT!" He was really desperate. Zach never showed this much emotion, ever. "Really, seriously. Calm down. Doc an' me, we've got this."
The thrashing around didn't alarm Zach so much. It made him sigh though. This was really the last thing he needed - a girl thrashing on the ground like a retarded baby. Sure, the girl had a gun and that was kind of freak in the sense that at any time she could just pull it out and start blowing people's heads off. Zach just didn't care. Fuck, it's not like she reached for it yet, why should he care?
Zach just realized that his cigarette was out. Shit. He hated when that happened. Zach fished into his pocket and pulled his lighter out and lit it again. Better. Much better. He inhaled and turned his head away.
"Chill the hell out," Zach told the thrashing girl, not lifting a finger to help Simon. Not his problem. Maybe he could slap Kris across the face. "The Doc's just trying to help you. You don't want to die, right?"
It occurred to him that Kris would be surprised even if Simon hadn't been helping her. Heck, she would probably be thrashing on the floor even if they weren't centered around in her. Not that Zach cared, she could go waddle in her own vomit for all he cared. All of the trouble he went through to help her and this was what he got in return? Last time he helped a random girl he found laying face down in her own vomit, that was for damn sure. He almost stepped in that shit.
It surprised Zach that both Scarface and Sam had their guns out like shit was about to go down. He looked up and bam, Samya had her gun pointed at Kris. It was the first time he registered the fear that was buried deep in his chest. For fucks sake, what the hell was she doing?
"Hey!" Zach growled, staring daggers at Samya. "Chill the fuck out Sam! You ain't helpin'! Try to calm your friggin friend down instead of doing THAT!" He was really desperate. Zach never showed this much emotion, ever. "Really, seriously. Calm down. Doc an' me, we've got this."
Kris subsided, still breathing quickly and shallowly. Her pupils were dilating and her eyes were darting all around, at the people surrounding her. She had a little space, which was good, but also had two guns pointed at her, which was not. Kris scrambled back along the ground a little, away from Samya, but ending up closer to R.J.
Had she been thinking straight, if things... weren't the way they were, Kris might have seen Samya and offered her a reassurance, requested politely that her friend put away her gun. As it was, Samya's words barely registered with Kris, let alone her identity. So far as the skater was concerned, the people with guns were just a condemnation, the judgement no doubt passed on from when she'd collapsed.
Her face felt weird, like there was something splattered across it. Kris' hand went to it and she winced as it came away covered in her own puke. She looked a complete mess. As well as her face, there was mud through her hair, turning the blond a murky brown. Her t-shirt was similarly filthy and her jeans were looking even more wrecked than usual. One trainer was still soggy, stained with the swamp water.
There was no blood on her anywhere, but Kris could feel it dripping from her fingers all the same.
Kris gave wild, almost feral looks to both Samya and R.J, then her lips drew back until her expression approximated a snarl. Although she couldn't normally stake a claim to being anything more than cute, at that moment, Kris couldn't have looked uglier.
"Get those fucking guns out of my face, fotze," Kris said, in a voice which trembled with something between fear and anger.
Provocative, but to her mind, if they retaliated... it was deserved. A fleeting thought struck that her father would be very disappointed to hear her swearing so much, before another handily pointed out that he'd probably be pretty disappointed that his only daughter was a murderer too and anything else was just icing on the cake.
Yep, impressing her dad was sure out of the window right now.
Had she been thinking straight, if things... weren't the way they were, Kris might have seen Samya and offered her a reassurance, requested politely that her friend put away her gun. As it was, Samya's words barely registered with Kris, let alone her identity. So far as the skater was concerned, the people with guns were just a condemnation, the judgement no doubt passed on from when she'd collapsed.
Her face felt weird, like there was something splattered across it. Kris' hand went to it and she winced as it came away covered in her own puke. She looked a complete mess. As well as her face, there was mud through her hair, turning the blond a murky brown. Her t-shirt was similarly filthy and her jeans were looking even more wrecked than usual. One trainer was still soggy, stained with the swamp water.
There was no blood on her anywhere, but Kris could feel it dripping from her fingers all the same.
Kris gave wild, almost feral looks to both Samya and R.J, then her lips drew back until her expression approximated a snarl. Although she couldn't normally stake a claim to being anything more than cute, at that moment, Kris couldn't have looked uglier.
"Get those fucking guns out of my face, fotze," Kris said, in a voice which trembled with something between fear and anger.
Provocative, but to her mind, if they retaliated... it was deserved. A fleeting thought struck that her father would be very disappointed to hear her swearing so much, before another handily pointed out that he'd probably be pretty disappointed that his only daughter was a murderer too and anything else was just icing on the cake.
Yep, impressing her dad was sure out of the window right now.
A day ago, R.J. might have argued the point of her being cute at best. He had a thing for athletes and short hair, after all, and knowing her at least in passing before this mess, he wouldn't have minded getting to know the girl better.
But that was a day ago. Today, in this moment, all he could feel towards her was frustration. Frustration, and perhaps a modicum of pity. Her request was processed, and summarily declined. Instead, he maintained his gaze, eyes locked with hers. He dropped his aim, gesturing with his - Simon's, rather, he was just borrowing it - gun toward the one at her hip. He shook it to the left twice, intended as a signal to toss the weapon aside, then aimed back between Kris' eyes. She tries anything, I'll fire it past her ear. Just a warning shot, that's all. We can do this peacefully. I really fucking hope we can do this peacefully, anyway. It occurred to him after he did all this that it might be a better idea to get her to put her hands over her head while someone else takes it, seeing as a warning shot wouldn't do much good if she was pulling out her own gun, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't think straight enough to give a damn. He'd already given the instructions.
Slowly, he took a step forward, just to let her know he wasn't going to back down first. He inched his way over to the side, slowly positioning himself directly in Sam's line of sight and casting her a momentary aside glance. The fewer guns that were out, the sooner Kris might calm down. He etched a single word in the sand with his foot for the rest of the group. If he was wrong, if shit went down, then as many people as possible needed to get to safety.
"GO"
They were free to take his advice or leave it, but he wanted to handle this alone. Manage whatever damage control he could. If this ended badly, if he had to shoot her, at least he could say he did some good to balance it out.
You're a good person, Kris. I know you are, and I'm giving you a chance to prove me right. I don't know what you've been doing with that gun, if you've fired it, if you've hurt anyone with it, if you're just carrying it around to scare off predators, but it doesn't matter, as long as you set it down.
He wished with everything he had that he could say that out loud.
It didn't work.
But that was a day ago. Today, in this moment, all he could feel towards her was frustration. Frustration, and perhaps a modicum of pity. Her request was processed, and summarily declined. Instead, he maintained his gaze, eyes locked with hers. He dropped his aim, gesturing with his - Simon's, rather, he was just borrowing it - gun toward the one at her hip. He shook it to the left twice, intended as a signal to toss the weapon aside, then aimed back between Kris' eyes. She tries anything, I'll fire it past her ear. Just a warning shot, that's all. We can do this peacefully. I really fucking hope we can do this peacefully, anyway. It occurred to him after he did all this that it might be a better idea to get her to put her hands over her head while someone else takes it, seeing as a warning shot wouldn't do much good if she was pulling out her own gun, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't think straight enough to give a damn. He'd already given the instructions.
Slowly, he took a step forward, just to let her know he wasn't going to back down first. He inched his way over to the side, slowly positioning himself directly in Sam's line of sight and casting her a momentary aside glance. The fewer guns that were out, the sooner Kris might calm down. He etched a single word in the sand with his foot for the rest of the group. If he was wrong, if shit went down, then as many people as possible needed to get to safety.
"GO"
They were free to take his advice or leave it, but he wanted to handle this alone. Manage whatever damage control he could. If this ended badly, if he had to shoot her, at least he could say he did some good to balance it out.
You're a good person, Kris. I know you are, and I'm giving you a chance to prove me right. I don't know what you've been doing with that gun, if you've fired it, if you've hurt anyone with it, if you're just carrying it around to scare off predators, but it doesn't matter, as long as you set it down.
He wished with everything he had that he could say that out loud.
It didn't work.
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Sunnybunny
- Posts: 400
- Joined: Fri May 17, 2019 7:35 pm
Was it wrong that Samya really just wanted to be alone right now? Because she liked Kris and all, but if she called her one more thing she didn't understand, she was gonna . . . she didn't even know what she was gonna do, but it would be ugly. Why was everyone being so freaking hostile?!? Zach was even being mean to her, but what was she suppossed to do, let Kris kill them all? She told those guys she would protect them, she promised.
Which is why, as much as she really really wanted to, she couldn't just go. Heroism was a tough gig these days. Was everyday gonna be like this, all screaming girls and tears? Speaking of tears, they streamed down Sammy's face right now, a testament to her fear. Because right now, everything she did was the wrong thing. If someone died right here . . . she didn't want to think about it.
She put the gun to her side, hoping it would some good. She really didn't want to hurt anyone, and she wished she could just give the thing away. But she couldn't just lay down and die. It was a horrible thing, the moment you realized you weren't noble enough to die for your cause. Her mom could have tossed that gun without thinking twice. Ugh, she hated everything. Danya, Kris, these two guys, Zach, herself. Especially herself. But that wouldn't get them all out of this, would it?
Her voice was still strained. "Okay, I'm not pointing the gun at you anymore. I see you haven't had the best day, and I'm sorry about whatever happened. But considering I haven't really done anything to you, it'd be nice if you could stop cursing at me." In her head she added, you crazy heifer, but that wouldn't help matters. Samya really felt for the girl, but all her compassion must have left with her bravery, because it was not coming out in her voice or her mannerisms.
If you were watching this at home, you never would have believed these two girls weren't enemies.
She turned to Zach. In the back of her mind, she realized he was just as scared as she was. But again, she was too stressed to really register that. "Hun, I'm tryin'. This is really the best I can do right now. But it'll be alright, okay?"
Yes, it would be alright. Everyone would calm down. They'd all discover that the were more similar than different, break bread together, have sing-alongs, it would be great. But the first step was always the hardest. And Step One was to get everyone (including herself) to put the weapons down. Which didn't seem like it was happening very soon.
Which is why, as much as she really really wanted to, she couldn't just go. Heroism was a tough gig these days. Was everyday gonna be like this, all screaming girls and tears? Speaking of tears, they streamed down Sammy's face right now, a testament to her fear. Because right now, everything she did was the wrong thing. If someone died right here . . . she didn't want to think about it.
She put the gun to her side, hoping it would some good. She really didn't want to hurt anyone, and she wished she could just give the thing away. But she couldn't just lay down and die. It was a horrible thing, the moment you realized you weren't noble enough to die for your cause. Her mom could have tossed that gun without thinking twice. Ugh, she hated everything. Danya, Kris, these two guys, Zach, herself. Especially herself. But that wouldn't get them all out of this, would it?
Her voice was still strained. "Okay, I'm not pointing the gun at you anymore. I see you haven't had the best day, and I'm sorry about whatever happened. But considering I haven't really done anything to you, it'd be nice if you could stop cursing at me." In her head she added, you crazy heifer, but that wouldn't help matters. Samya really felt for the girl, but all her compassion must have left with her bravery, because it was not coming out in her voice or her mannerisms.
If you were watching this at home, you never would have believed these two girls weren't enemies.
She turned to Zach. In the back of her mind, she realized he was just as scared as she was. But again, she was too stressed to really register that. "Hun, I'm tryin'. This is really the best I can do right now. But it'll be alright, okay?"
Yes, it would be alright. Everyone would calm down. They'd all discover that the were more similar than different, break bread together, have sing-alongs, it would be great. But the first step was always the hardest. And Step One was to get everyone (including herself) to put the weapons down. Which didn't seem like it was happening very soon.
VII
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
G071 - Sakurako Adina Jackson - i'll be ready every day / for as long as i can say / here I am in the future with my friends
VIII
Dancing Shoes
Bare Knuckles
Wild Horses
Simon had assumed that-after a momentary shock-Kris would calm down quickly and he would have time to introduce himself to the group. Maybe Zach and Sam would agree to work together with R.J. and him to protect themselves. They would go to the docks and discuss plans. No one would fire a shot and no one would have to be hurt. It was a ridiculous, naive notion, but he really did believe it somewhere in the back of his head. After all, that was how things worked out in his books the vast majority of the time.
But this wasn't like one of his books. This was different. This was life.
R.J. had scratched something into the ground again, and Simon was pretty sure he didn't even need to read it to know what it said. After all, the message was made up of two letters and the boy still held his gun. But he stayed where he was. I'm sorry if I'm messing up your plans, R.J., I really am, but I can't just leave. He thought about Adrian and the other two guys from the infirmary. Did Sarah attack Adrian to get his gun? Did she kill him? Simon didn't know because Simon had ran away.
Sam put aside her weapon, reluctantly. Simon only hoped that it would be good enough to convince Kris that none of them meant her any harm. The last thing any of them needed was a fucking shootout. He turned to the girl one the group, the water bottle still untouched beside her.
"You'll really want to drink something, I swear it'll make you feel better. Vomiting can lead to dehydration, and considering you also fainted and probably haven't drank any water since you got here..." Simon knew he hadn't. He made a mental not to take a few sips from his own bottle after all of this blew over. If all of this blew over. "Look, I can understand if you don't fully trust me. But you want to stay alive, don't you? Then drink. Hell, you can use your own bottle if you want to. The point is that none of us want to start fighting. When you passed out, Zach and Sam ran over to you immediately and tried to get you back up. We're not going to attack you, okay?
Simon tried to smile confidently, but his hands were still shaky. He realized how he must look to everyone, down on his hands and knees. His shoes and pants was covered in dirt and grass stains, his shirt had ripped and some of his blood had seeped into the fabric. His hands were grimy and cut in places-not to mention flecked with vomit from when he moved Kris' head-and even his thin glasses were askew. But right now, all that mattered was that everyone, including himself, calmed down and worked together.
A requirement that seemed to get further and further away with each moment.
But this wasn't like one of his books. This was different. This was life.
R.J. had scratched something into the ground again, and Simon was pretty sure he didn't even need to read it to know what it said. After all, the message was made up of two letters and the boy still held his gun. But he stayed where he was. I'm sorry if I'm messing up your plans, R.J., I really am, but I can't just leave. He thought about Adrian and the other two guys from the infirmary. Did Sarah attack Adrian to get his gun? Did she kill him? Simon didn't know because Simon had ran away.
Sam put aside her weapon, reluctantly. Simon only hoped that it would be good enough to convince Kris that none of them meant her any harm. The last thing any of them needed was a fucking shootout. He turned to the girl one the group, the water bottle still untouched beside her.
"You'll really want to drink something, I swear it'll make you feel better. Vomiting can lead to dehydration, and considering you also fainted and probably haven't drank any water since you got here..." Simon knew he hadn't. He made a mental not to take a few sips from his own bottle after all of this blew over. If all of this blew over. "Look, I can understand if you don't fully trust me. But you want to stay alive, don't you? Then drink. Hell, you can use your own bottle if you want to. The point is that none of us want to start fighting. When you passed out, Zach and Sam ran over to you immediately and tried to get you back up. We're not going to attack you, okay?
Simon tried to smile confidently, but his hands were still shaky. He realized how he must look to everyone, down on his hands and knees. His shoes and pants was covered in dirt and grass stains, his shirt had ripped and some of his blood had seeped into the fabric. His hands were grimy and cut in places-not to mention flecked with vomit from when he moved Kris' head-and even his thin glasses were askew. But right now, all that mattered was that everyone, including himself, calmed down and worked together.
A requirement that seemed to get further and further away with each moment.