((B017 Timothy Skula debut))
Timothy Skula was in a very bad mood. He had a splitting headache, he was hungry, he was thirsty, he was tired and he was lost. He had wandered for hours upon hours not knowing where he was and now found himself on some lame-ass beach in the middle of nowhere.
"Fucking hell, this sucks..."
He was not amused with the fact that he some fat-ass calling himself Mr.Danya had kidnapped him, not to mention his entire class and said, 'You shall fight each other to the death! Amuse me!'. Who the hell did he think he was, fucking Jigsaw? He smacked his chin as some small fly nipped at his face and continued to curse.
"I'm not some gladiator, what the hell do you want me to do."
Timothy was pissed off about the contents of his pack. His bags of chips? Gone. His chocolate bars? Missing. His Mountain Dew? Goneskis! All that was left was water, some bread, and a lame-ass package of crackers. He was half-surprised that he hadn't lost all of his clothing and was going to be left to roam the earth stark naked. Despite all of that however, it was his 'weapon' though that made him the most upset.
"A hamburger phone, you're fucking hilarious you lame-ass Carrot Top..."
He began to survey the beach, in search of anything or anybody. He had no idea what exactly he was going to do, but it was better for him if he can find someone that he could share his rage with.
The people Timothy found weren't necessarily much of a relief in that particular end. There was that gay track dude Erik Laurin, that polish dude Mike somethingorother and Jason? Jeremy? Jasper! That's what it was, Jasper...MacDermott? He wasn't sure, he was just some really really quiet guy who didn't talk much.
The three of them were all just standing around, doing nothing though. For all Timmy knew, they were all just sitting there singing Kumbaya for all he knew. They all looked relatively harmless so he figured it would be safe for him to just walk on over towards them.
"Oi," he called out, "You dudes all right?"
Come & See
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
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Yossarian*
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
As soon, as Mike realized that Jasper's gun is not going to kill anyone in the near future, he calmed down. The initial shock finally wore down, probably until the sight of first dead body. More or less back as himself, the Pole started listening to the other guys talking.
Oh great...
The conversation really wasn't flowing, and for Mike, who is a very social person, this kind of situation made him feel really uneasy at first, and then quite irritated after a while. To the point, he desperately started looking for 'cut the crap' button or at least something interesting to talk about.
And then, Erik mentioned the collars, starting the deep train of thoughts inside Mike's head. Sure, he noticed it before on Erik's and Jasper's necks, he felt his own one, and he read about them in the Danya's guide, but he really didn't pay attention to them before. Now, Mike's brain used them as a symbol of being trapped here, which was powering his mind as he asked himself a question: How do we get out of here?
That's right, he wasn't going to kill anyone. And he sure as hell didn't want to be killed or even wait those hellish days in hope somehow everyone will kill each other and he will go back alone. No, he doubted he would survive it physically or mentally. He had to find way out of the island... But how?
He already began opening his mouth to tell Erik and Jasper to help him find the escape route, but before that he heard yet another voice which in current circumstances could lead to even more pointless talk:
"Oi, You dudes all right?"
"GAAAH!" Mike reacted with a disapproving onomatopoeia. The guy who looked like a typical 'couch potato, teenager version' started approaching them. That's cool, as long as he didn't want to kill them all, but if his question would lead to another 5 minutes of 'Hi, how are you, thank you I'm fine' Mike would probably explode, maybe even literally if he would try to pull out his collar in the process of trying to escape the conversation.
"YES! We are all right, thanks for asking, I do hope you are fine as well..."
After this short outburst, Mike quickly calmed himself down. They won't go anywhere as well, if his tone will lead to some heated arguments.
"Guys, we need to cut the small talk. We're a lucky bunch that so far none of us has any murderous intent. But it's only a matter of time before we'll meet someone who was just as lucky as... What's your name anyway?" Mike paused his monologue as he realized he doesn't know the name of the guy with a gun, as well as the newcomer's. "Never mind, we'll get to that later. Anyway, if we'll meet someone wielding a gun who will decide to stay alive by killing us all, we'll be screwed. We NEED to get out of here as soon as possible."
Easier said than done...
Mike looked at everyone else gathered on the beach. "You guys probably know more about this Survival of the Fittest thingy, I barely heard about it before, so I completely don't know what happened here last 3 times. I bet someone tried to escape as well. What did they try? Did it work?"
Oh great...
The conversation really wasn't flowing, and for Mike, who is a very social person, this kind of situation made him feel really uneasy at first, and then quite irritated after a while. To the point, he desperately started looking for 'cut the crap' button or at least something interesting to talk about.
And then, Erik mentioned the collars, starting the deep train of thoughts inside Mike's head. Sure, he noticed it before on Erik's and Jasper's necks, he felt his own one, and he read about them in the Danya's guide, but he really didn't pay attention to them before. Now, Mike's brain used them as a symbol of being trapped here, which was powering his mind as he asked himself a question: How do we get out of here?
That's right, he wasn't going to kill anyone. And he sure as hell didn't want to be killed or even wait those hellish days in hope somehow everyone will kill each other and he will go back alone. No, he doubted he would survive it physically or mentally. He had to find way out of the island... But how?
He already began opening his mouth to tell Erik and Jasper to help him find the escape route, but before that he heard yet another voice which in current circumstances could lead to even more pointless talk:
"Oi, You dudes all right?"
"GAAAH!" Mike reacted with a disapproving onomatopoeia. The guy who looked like a typical 'couch potato, teenager version' started approaching them. That's cool, as long as he didn't want to kill them all, but if his question would lead to another 5 minutes of 'Hi, how are you, thank you I'm fine' Mike would probably explode, maybe even literally if he would try to pull out his collar in the process of trying to escape the conversation.
"YES! We are all right, thanks for asking, I do hope you are fine as well..."
After this short outburst, Mike quickly calmed himself down. They won't go anywhere as well, if his tone will lead to some heated arguments.
"Guys, we need to cut the small talk. We're a lucky bunch that so far none of us has any murderous intent. But it's only a matter of time before we'll meet someone who was just as lucky as... What's your name anyway?" Mike paused his monologue as he realized he doesn't know the name of the guy with a gun, as well as the newcomer's. "Never mind, we'll get to that later. Anyway, if we'll meet someone wielding a gun who will decide to stay alive by killing us all, we'll be screwed. We NEED to get out of here as soon as possible."
Easier said than done...
Mike looked at everyone else gathered on the beach. "You guys probably know more about this Survival of the Fittest thingy, I barely heard about it before, so I completely don't know what happened here last 3 times. I bet someone tried to escape as well. What did they try? Did it work?"
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Hollyquin*
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Jasper-Declan was the slightest bit lost.
That was typical- Jasper-Declan had spend most of his life so far 'slightly lost' and 'stuck on a deserted island and being forced to kill all his classmates' didn't seem like a particularly good time to let old habits die. At this moment, though, he was mainly confused by the fact that this newcomer- this one's name escaped him for the moment- also seemed to be unarmed. Am I the only one armed in this game? What does that mean for me? Am I meant to kill these people? Is it their fate to die, lacking a method to defend themselves as they are? A small part of him thought that perhaps this was the wrong way to think- he didn't really want to kill anyone- but there was still this disconnect between him and the game that prevented him from feeling anything at all.
Why are we here? Why us, particularly? Is there a reason? That thought popped back into Jasper-Declan's head. He didn't bother contemplating. He knew the answer.
"Great. Uh - great. So if it's all cool then, you know, we're all buddies and all, could you just - put the gun down? Only it's a little. You know. Kind of intimidating. Unless that's the point. In which case hey, man, fill your boots, but with someone else. 'Cause, uh, neither of us are gonna get in your way or anything. Or go for you. Um, I don't know what Mike got, but my weapon's a porno, so...unless you get off on a Chinese torture skin flick and accidentally blow your collar while jerking it, I'm not super worried."
That was Erik, presumably- Jasper-Declan mentally noted that Erik was the tall one, taller than he himself was, even. He listened to the entire speech without moving, or even blinking. He was contemplating the gun in his hand. Put it...down? I understand why the others would want that...that's fairly obvious, really, but do I have any good reason to do so? I will lose any trust they might have placed in me if I do not, but do I need their trust...?
He thought a bit more. Most likely I do not want to be alone right now. Besides, perhaps Mike or the other boy does have a weapon that they're simply not wielding at the moment. They may attack me if they perceive me as a threat. However...I do not want to put this gun away...
After a moment, Jasper-Declan thought of a compromise.
Slowly, slowly, as always, he moved the gun. Perhaps that movement would be alarming to the others- hopefully, he reasoned, it would be slow enough of a motion that they would not run or try to retaliate- and, remembering what he'd read in the manual, unloaded the weapon, dropping the one tiny round that he had loaded into his pocket. He blinked once and looked back at Mike and Erik.
"...I do not wish to relinquish my weapon, as I have no wish to die any time soon. But...now that it is unloaded, I pose no risk to you. I see no reason to harm any of you." He nodded to the three.
Then the boy- Mike, he remembered, the shorter one- was talking about the game. About how they needed to...escape. Jasper-Declan blinked. Hadn't they said that escape was impossible? He had taken that at its word. Seemed reasonable enough, to him. Perhaps one of these boys knew better, though.
"You guys probably know more about this Survival of the Fittest thingy, I barely heard about it before, so I completely don't know what happened here last 3 times. I bet someone tried to escape as well. What did they try? Did it work?"
"...I do not watch television, myself, so no, I know almost nothing about Survival of the Fittest...though I am almost sure that no one has ever escaped."
He remembered the boy's earlier question. He frowned, very slightly.
"...And my name is Jasper-Declan."
That was typical- Jasper-Declan had spend most of his life so far 'slightly lost' and 'stuck on a deserted island and being forced to kill all his classmates' didn't seem like a particularly good time to let old habits die. At this moment, though, he was mainly confused by the fact that this newcomer- this one's name escaped him for the moment- also seemed to be unarmed. Am I the only one armed in this game? What does that mean for me? Am I meant to kill these people? Is it their fate to die, lacking a method to defend themselves as they are? A small part of him thought that perhaps this was the wrong way to think- he didn't really want to kill anyone- but there was still this disconnect between him and the game that prevented him from feeling anything at all.
Why are we here? Why us, particularly? Is there a reason? That thought popped back into Jasper-Declan's head. He didn't bother contemplating. He knew the answer.
"Great. Uh - great. So if it's all cool then, you know, we're all buddies and all, could you just - put the gun down? Only it's a little. You know. Kind of intimidating. Unless that's the point. In which case hey, man, fill your boots, but with someone else. 'Cause, uh, neither of us are gonna get in your way or anything. Or go for you. Um, I don't know what Mike got, but my weapon's a porno, so...unless you get off on a Chinese torture skin flick and accidentally blow your collar while jerking it, I'm not super worried."
That was Erik, presumably- Jasper-Declan mentally noted that Erik was the tall one, taller than he himself was, even. He listened to the entire speech without moving, or even blinking. He was contemplating the gun in his hand. Put it...down? I understand why the others would want that...that's fairly obvious, really, but do I have any good reason to do so? I will lose any trust they might have placed in me if I do not, but do I need their trust...?
He thought a bit more. Most likely I do not want to be alone right now. Besides, perhaps Mike or the other boy does have a weapon that they're simply not wielding at the moment. They may attack me if they perceive me as a threat. However...I do not want to put this gun away...
After a moment, Jasper-Declan thought of a compromise.
Slowly, slowly, as always, he moved the gun. Perhaps that movement would be alarming to the others- hopefully, he reasoned, it would be slow enough of a motion that they would not run or try to retaliate- and, remembering what he'd read in the manual, unloaded the weapon, dropping the one tiny round that he had loaded into his pocket. He blinked once and looked back at Mike and Erik.
"...I do not wish to relinquish my weapon, as I have no wish to die any time soon. But...now that it is unloaded, I pose no risk to you. I see no reason to harm any of you." He nodded to the three.
Then the boy- Mike, he remembered, the shorter one- was talking about the game. About how they needed to...escape. Jasper-Declan blinked. Hadn't they said that escape was impossible? He had taken that at its word. Seemed reasonable enough, to him. Perhaps one of these boys knew better, though.
"You guys probably know more about this Survival of the Fittest thingy, I barely heard about it before, so I completely don't know what happened here last 3 times. I bet someone tried to escape as well. What did they try? Did it work?"
"...I do not watch television, myself, so no, I know almost nothing about Survival of the Fittest...though I am almost sure that no one has ever escaped."
He remembered the boy's earlier question. He frowned, very slightly.
"...And my name is Jasper-Declan."
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Pigeon Army*
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
((B097 Begin))
Max Neill had always had a problem waking up. "Just like your father, too attached to your dreams," his mother had observed one day when he had slept in and missed the bus. Max tried to recall when that had been - a few weeks ago, at least. She'd been in the lounge, tapping away at her laptop, and he'd been sprinting from room to room, trying to rush through his morning routine. He'd gotten to school before the first bell, in the end, even though his unprecedented morning hustle had wiped him out and left him unable to learn during his first class. He'd made it, though. That's what counted.
Today, though, he was receiving a wake-up call he wouldn't forget.
It had started with the tugging on his jeans. He directed a weak kick at whatever was pulling at his pants, and it had stopped.
Then, whatever it was started pulling at his shirt. Or maybe it wasn't what had been trying to steal his jeans, maybe it was something else, but Max had feebly waved it away, so it didn't matter.
Then it started pulling his hair.
Max's eyes flew open and his upper body jerked straight up, a clump of hair yanked out in the process. He yelled out in pain, clutched at the sore spot on his scalp and spun around, staring at a clueless cormorant with Max's hair in its beak. The small black bird screeched, the hair flopping to the ground. The boy and the bird held their opponent's gaze for a minute, the cormorant's black eyes almost challenging him to make the first move. Then, spreading its wings, the bird rushed Max.
Five minutes later, walking along the beach, Max hoped the vindictive bird wasn't following him. He'd managed to get away with his khaki bag, but he was afraid that if he turned around, he'd see the wretched creature perched on a rock, studying him as he trekked along the shore. Max had been too busy contemplating a possible attack from the treacherous sea-crow to have thought about anything else, including why he was on an island in the first place.
He looked up and clutched the clubhead of his assigned weapon-cum-walking stick, a 4-iron, tighter. On the horizon, he could see a small group of people - three? Four? He couldn't say for sure - talking to each other, not attacking. Stumbling a bit on the wet rocks, Max made his way towards the gang.
As he got closer, the brown-haired boy began to make out who they were. There was an outrageously tall blonde kid, whom Max could make out as fellow athlete and all-round good guy Erik Laurin; there was another ridiculously tall kid, whom Max deduced was the Jasper-Declan guy in his English class; there was a portly guy Max didn't recognise; and there was a man speaking very loudly, his words barely distinguishable at this distance but his accent unmistakable - Mike Maszer, the Polish guy from the soccer team. Max was pretty sure he could trust all these people to tell him what was up, especially Erik - the man had proved himself one of exceptional principles, despite his lifestyle. They seemed highly strung, but he was their Student Council President, someone they all trusted (or, at least, the ones who voted for him trusted). If there were problems, he could work it out. "Hey, you guys!" Max called out, slipping over the small boulders as he approached Jasper-Declan. "What's going on? Is this a cormorant-free zone?" he threw in, chuckling at the injoke.
Max Neill had always had a problem waking up. "Just like your father, too attached to your dreams," his mother had observed one day when he had slept in and missed the bus. Max tried to recall when that had been - a few weeks ago, at least. She'd been in the lounge, tapping away at her laptop, and he'd been sprinting from room to room, trying to rush through his morning routine. He'd gotten to school before the first bell, in the end, even though his unprecedented morning hustle had wiped him out and left him unable to learn during his first class. He'd made it, though. That's what counted.
Today, though, he was receiving a wake-up call he wouldn't forget.
It had started with the tugging on his jeans. He directed a weak kick at whatever was pulling at his pants, and it had stopped.
Then, whatever it was started pulling at his shirt. Or maybe it wasn't what had been trying to steal his jeans, maybe it was something else, but Max had feebly waved it away, so it didn't matter.
Then it started pulling his hair.
Max's eyes flew open and his upper body jerked straight up, a clump of hair yanked out in the process. He yelled out in pain, clutched at the sore spot on his scalp and spun around, staring at a clueless cormorant with Max's hair in its beak. The small black bird screeched, the hair flopping to the ground. The boy and the bird held their opponent's gaze for a minute, the cormorant's black eyes almost challenging him to make the first move. Then, spreading its wings, the bird rushed Max.
Five minutes later, walking along the beach, Max hoped the vindictive bird wasn't following him. He'd managed to get away with his khaki bag, but he was afraid that if he turned around, he'd see the wretched creature perched on a rock, studying him as he trekked along the shore. Max had been too busy contemplating a possible attack from the treacherous sea-crow to have thought about anything else, including why he was on an island in the first place.
He looked up and clutched the clubhead of his assigned weapon-cum-walking stick, a 4-iron, tighter. On the horizon, he could see a small group of people - three? Four? He couldn't say for sure - talking to each other, not attacking. Stumbling a bit on the wet rocks, Max made his way towards the gang.
As he got closer, the brown-haired boy began to make out who they were. There was an outrageously tall blonde kid, whom Max could make out as fellow athlete and all-round good guy Erik Laurin; there was another ridiculously tall kid, whom Max deduced was the Jasper-Declan guy in his English class; there was a portly guy Max didn't recognise; and there was a man speaking very loudly, his words barely distinguishable at this distance but his accent unmistakable - Mike Maszer, the Polish guy from the soccer team. Max was pretty sure he could trust all these people to tell him what was up, especially Erik - the man had proved himself one of exceptional principles, despite his lifestyle. They seemed highly strung, but he was their Student Council President, someone they all trusted (or, at least, the ones who voted for him trusted). If there were problems, he could work it out. "Hey, you guys!" Max called out, slipping over the small boulders as he approached Jasper-Declan. "What's going on? Is this a cormorant-free zone?" he threw in, chuckling at the injoke.
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ifnotwinter*
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:22 am
It took Erik a few moments to place the voice and face in his mind, but the tension that had gripped him and tightened his shoulders slipped away rapidly as he was able to put a name to the pudgy boy in front of him. Timothy...someone. He didn't know the last name. But Erik didn't think he was a threat; he certainly didn't look like it.
Mike was shouting, he realized after a moment. Stress. Tension. God, the tension was thick enough to cut with...well, he hadn't gotten a knife, but it was thick enough to cut with his adult-content DVD. He felt like he was floating above it, conscious of it existing but unaffected, much like floating on a raft. Water all around, but he wasn't wet. It was a peaceful feeling, but he knew he couldn't think about it for long. A circus act; a high-wire walker who stops to think about his defiant performance and, knowing he cannot possibly balance, that this is not physically possible, begins to fall...
Mike was still talking. He realized guility that he had no idea what the Polish boy had said, not that he had long to think about it as Jasper began to speak as well. He refused to give up the gun...fair enough, and unloading it made Erik feel slightly better, but not enough to step back from his position in front of the other boys. He was a big guy, maybe if Jasper decided to play he could distract him for a while.
Jasper had apparently caught Mike's question. Sounded like the other student had asked about the game, not that it mattered. Erik didn't know much either; he never had time and - to be honest - hated the whole concept, fake or not.
But it's not fake, is it...
He didn't have time to pipe in before a fifth boy approached. This one was easily recognized, at least, as Max Neill. Generally pretty awesome dude, and he seemed...trustable. Like someone who wouldn't let him down, wouldn't play. Wouldn't have problems. He seemed calm. That was good, Erik figured he needed calm.
"Max, hey." His face broke into a surprisingly honest smile, and he stuck his hand out almost automatically, going for a high five. "Fancy seeing you here."
It was so much easier this way. Like nothing was happening. Maybe it was just a beach day, right? A change of location for the grad party. Pretending like those woods, they weren't there, like it was just the woods and seabirds and good friends. And that was all that mattered. All that mattered. All that mattered.
Mike was shouting, he realized after a moment. Stress. Tension. God, the tension was thick enough to cut with...well, he hadn't gotten a knife, but it was thick enough to cut with his adult-content DVD. He felt like he was floating above it, conscious of it existing but unaffected, much like floating on a raft. Water all around, but he wasn't wet. It was a peaceful feeling, but he knew he couldn't think about it for long. A circus act; a high-wire walker who stops to think about his defiant performance and, knowing he cannot possibly balance, that this is not physically possible, begins to fall...
Mike was still talking. He realized guility that he had no idea what the Polish boy had said, not that he had long to think about it as Jasper began to speak as well. He refused to give up the gun...fair enough, and unloading it made Erik feel slightly better, but not enough to step back from his position in front of the other boys. He was a big guy, maybe if Jasper decided to play he could distract him for a while.
Jasper had apparently caught Mike's question. Sounded like the other student had asked about the game, not that it mattered. Erik didn't know much either; he never had time and - to be honest - hated the whole concept, fake or not.
But it's not fake, is it...
He didn't have time to pipe in before a fifth boy approached. This one was easily recognized, at least, as Max Neill. Generally pretty awesome dude, and he seemed...trustable. Like someone who wouldn't let him down, wouldn't play. Wouldn't have problems. He seemed calm. That was good, Erik figured he needed calm.
"Max, hey." His face broke into a surprisingly honest smile, and he stuck his hand out almost automatically, going for a high five. "Fancy seeing you here."
It was so much easier this way. Like nothing was happening. Maybe it was just a beach day, right? A change of location for the grad party. Pretending like those woods, they weren't there, like it was just the woods and seabirds and good friends. And that was all that mattered. All that mattered. All that mattered.
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Timothy was taken aback by the outburst from Mike whatshisname? Who did the guy think he was, the king of the world? All he was asking was a simple question. There wasn't any need to be fucking high and mighty here.
Still, in an attempt to prove that he was in fact the better man he puffed up his chest and walked forwards.
"Well that is great to hear dude."
As he walked forwards he saw Max Neil coming into view. A wannabe political, as outrageous as that idea sounded to Timothy, wasn't high school a time to just relax, and hang out? He forced a polite nod though, as he didn't want to anger the guy that had the four iron, that wasn't the best business strategy.
"Hi dude," he said reaching the group of skyscraper sized students, he couldn't believe he was so fucking short. What was it that made these kids (except for Mike whatshisname) tower over him? Did they all drink some sort of super milk or a fucking growth elixir? And to make it worse, these guys were all freaking athletes! He hated gym class because of these lame-ass freaks.
Not much he could do now though. He'd have to actually work with these losers, which was better than wandering all alone.
"Now what are we all- HOLY SHIT!"
His attempt to strike casual conversation with the people he didn't really like changed when he saw what the others had been looking at. In Jasper's hands was a fucking shotgun!
"Dude a shotgun!" he began, failing to hide his anger and excitement, "YOU got a fucking shotgun! Really? And they give me a fucking hamburger phone..."
He folded his arms and began to inspect it, from a respectable, not as lethal distance.
"Unbelievable..."
Still, in an attempt to prove that he was in fact the better man he puffed up his chest and walked forwards.
"Well that is great to hear dude."
As he walked forwards he saw Max Neil coming into view. A wannabe political, as outrageous as that idea sounded to Timothy, wasn't high school a time to just relax, and hang out? He forced a polite nod though, as he didn't want to anger the guy that had the four iron, that wasn't the best business strategy.
"Hi dude," he said reaching the group of skyscraper sized students, he couldn't believe he was so fucking short. What was it that made these kids (except for Mike whatshisname) tower over him? Did they all drink some sort of super milk or a fucking growth elixir? And to make it worse, these guys were all freaking athletes! He hated gym class because of these lame-ass freaks.
Not much he could do now though. He'd have to actually work with these losers, which was better than wandering all alone.
"Now what are we all- HOLY SHIT!"
His attempt to strike casual conversation with the people he didn't really like changed when he saw what the others had been looking at. In Jasper's hands was a fucking shotgun!
"Dude a shotgun!" he began, failing to hide his anger and excitement, "YOU got a fucking shotgun! Really? And they give me a fucking hamburger phone..."
He folded his arms and began to inspect it, from a respectable, not as lethal distance.
"Unbelievable..."
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Yossarian*
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
Fucking fantastic... No one's listening, and even if, they are almost as clueless as me... Also, we're probably not getting out of here...
As the stream of determination, which prompted Mike to seek the way to get out, wore off, the Pole sat on the sand yet again. He felt like every second on this miserable place drained an ounce of his strength. He desperately tried to find a purpose to go on the island (other than 'kill everyone else' of course'). He wanted to go back... But how? How in the nine rings of hell he's suppose to survive over 200 students, probably half of them better fit or equipped for the task?
In the meantime, Erik and the guy apparently called 'Max', looked like they were trying to behave as nothing happened, while the fat guy started complaining about Jasper drawing... Shotgun?
No, that wasn't right. Living in Poland as a friend of several gun-nuts, having an uncle working on a shooting range, AND shooting at the range himself, Mike could easily recognize Jasper's gun, and quickly spot the mistake in Timothy's last sentence.
"Uhm... It's not really a shotgun." He said to Tim with a casual tone of voice. "Shotguns are bigger, two handed usually and made specifically for the close range. This a handgun. A pistol of bolt-action variety as you can see from the handle. It's a Remington, I think. XP-100, though I don't know which type specifically. It was created to be probably the best pistol at long range. Those shells are incredibly fast and they can hit something from about 200 meters away."
Mike looked at everyone else and realized something.
"Wow... That was... A whole lot of pointless trivia, wasn't it?" He said with a faint smile on his face.
Well, at least it was fun and helped the Pole to forget about his crappy situation for a few seconds. Now, Mike was forced to go back to the real world.
"Damn, is there really no way out of here?" He whispered silently under his nose...
As the stream of determination, which prompted Mike to seek the way to get out, wore off, the Pole sat on the sand yet again. He felt like every second on this miserable place drained an ounce of his strength. He desperately tried to find a purpose to go on the island (other than 'kill everyone else' of course'). He wanted to go back... But how? How in the nine rings of hell he's suppose to survive over 200 students, probably half of them better fit or equipped for the task?
In the meantime, Erik and the guy apparently called 'Max', looked like they were trying to behave as nothing happened, while the fat guy started complaining about Jasper drawing... Shotgun?
No, that wasn't right. Living in Poland as a friend of several gun-nuts, having an uncle working on a shooting range, AND shooting at the range himself, Mike could easily recognize Jasper's gun, and quickly spot the mistake in Timothy's last sentence.
"Uhm... It's not really a shotgun." He said to Tim with a casual tone of voice. "Shotguns are bigger, two handed usually and made specifically for the close range. This a handgun. A pistol of bolt-action variety as you can see from the handle. It's a Remington, I think. XP-100, though I don't know which type specifically. It was created to be probably the best pistol at long range. Those shells are incredibly fast and they can hit something from about 200 meters away."
Mike looked at everyone else and realized something.
"Wow... That was... A whole lot of pointless trivia, wasn't it?" He said with a faint smile on his face.
Well, at least it was fun and helped the Pole to forget about his crappy situation for a few seconds. Now, Mike was forced to go back to the real world.
"Damn, is there really no way out of here?" He whispered silently under his nose...
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Hollyquin*
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
All of this was strange to Jasper-Declan- though he did generally consider normal teenage behavior to be quite strange.
First of all, there was yet another newcomer. Max, his name was, apparently, based on Eriks greeting. He was holding...a golf club? I suppose that could be considered a weapon, in the right hands. What I do not understand is why he would have brought a golf club on our senior trip. Opportunities to use it seem as though they would be limited. Perhaps there was a course at our original destination that I was unaware of? ...I will never know. It was not the golf club that confused, him, though, so much as Max's and Erik's attitudes. Max had...laughed. Erik was holding his hand out for...what were those things called? High-fives? This was...wrong, somehow. Acting so...normal. Why are they choosing to act this way? Perhaps they are choosing to ignore what looms ahead?
Is that normal? Is that what I should be doing?
What is normal?
This certainly is not.
Thinking about normalcy suddenly filled Jasper-Declan with a burning longing for his skateboard, whose absence hadn't bothered him ten minutes ago. Suddenly he just wanted to be home, he wanted to be skating, swimming, running, something. He wanted to see his family. He wanted...a lot of things.
He shook his head. Shook those thoughts away.
This is not going to do me any good.
Better to be logical.
He returned his thoughts to the situation at hand. What else was strange?
"Dude a shotgun! YOU got a fucking shotgun! Really? And they give me a fucking hamburger phone..."
Jasper-Declan wrinkled his nose- he wasn't the biggest fan of profanity on the best of days- but there were two points to think about in that sentence. First of all. A shotgun? Everything Jasper-Declan knew about guns, he knew from his cursory examination of his own gun's instruction manual not so long ago, and he was sure the word 'shotgun' hadn't come up at any point. It could have simply been something he didn't know about, though. But that was quickly refuted by Mike's next statement:
"Uhm... It's not really a shotgun. Shotguns are bigger, two handed usually and made specifically for the close range. This a handgun. A pistol of bolt-action variety as you can see from the handle. It's a Remington, I think. XP-100, though I don't know which type specifically. It was created to be probably the best pistol at long range. Those shells are incredibly fast and they can hit something from about 200 meters away."
Jasper-Declan blinked. This was all useful information. He recalled the word 'Remington', which told him that Mike was most likely correct about all of this. Well, now he knew what his gun was capable of, at least. Apparently it was a pretty decent one. He was lucky.
Then there was the second bit. A "hamburger phone"? He thought about that for a moment. Then it clicked.
Jasper-Declan wasn't stupid. People would occasionally think he was, due simply to his habit of not speaking until he was sure, but the truth was a sharp mind hid behind that quiet mouth of his. The connection wasn't too hard to make with enough information. This boy has a hamburger phone. Max has a golf club. Erik said he had...er...a 'porno'. "I don't know what Mike got, but..."
Ah. I see. Apparently this mister Danya is a tad...open minded when it comes to what he calls 'weapons'. It does appear that I am the only one here who actually received a weapon. I wonder if there's a reason for that...?
He wasn't sure if he liked that fact. On one hand, if he had to fight these guys off- if something went horribly wrong- logically, considering both his weapon and physical condition, he'd likely come out on top. On the other hand, it made the other boys wary of him.
...But perhaps that's a positive?
Either way, he didn't let go of the gun.
He heard Mike's whisper- probably not something he meant the others to hear, but Jasper-Declan had quite good hearing.
"Damn, is there really no way out of here?"
"...No. I do not believe there is."
Jasper-Declan shrugged, having come to terms with this not long after awakening. That was the only way to deal with any of this. Calm acceptance.
His other emotions, locked away, notwithstanding.
First of all, there was yet another newcomer. Max, his name was, apparently, based on Eriks greeting. He was holding...a golf club? I suppose that could be considered a weapon, in the right hands. What I do not understand is why he would have brought a golf club on our senior trip. Opportunities to use it seem as though they would be limited. Perhaps there was a course at our original destination that I was unaware of? ...I will never know. It was not the golf club that confused, him, though, so much as Max's and Erik's attitudes. Max had...laughed. Erik was holding his hand out for...what were those things called? High-fives? This was...wrong, somehow. Acting so...normal. Why are they choosing to act this way? Perhaps they are choosing to ignore what looms ahead?
Is that normal? Is that what I should be doing?
What is normal?
This certainly is not.
Thinking about normalcy suddenly filled Jasper-Declan with a burning longing for his skateboard, whose absence hadn't bothered him ten minutes ago. Suddenly he just wanted to be home, he wanted to be skating, swimming, running, something. He wanted to see his family. He wanted...a lot of things.
He shook his head. Shook those thoughts away.
This is not going to do me any good.
Better to be logical.
He returned his thoughts to the situation at hand. What else was strange?
"Dude a shotgun! YOU got a fucking shotgun! Really? And they give me a fucking hamburger phone..."
Jasper-Declan wrinkled his nose- he wasn't the biggest fan of profanity on the best of days- but there were two points to think about in that sentence. First of all. A shotgun? Everything Jasper-Declan knew about guns, he knew from his cursory examination of his own gun's instruction manual not so long ago, and he was sure the word 'shotgun' hadn't come up at any point. It could have simply been something he didn't know about, though. But that was quickly refuted by Mike's next statement:
"Uhm... It's not really a shotgun. Shotguns are bigger, two handed usually and made specifically for the close range. This a handgun. A pistol of bolt-action variety as you can see from the handle. It's a Remington, I think. XP-100, though I don't know which type specifically. It was created to be probably the best pistol at long range. Those shells are incredibly fast and they can hit something from about 200 meters away."
Jasper-Declan blinked. This was all useful information. He recalled the word 'Remington', which told him that Mike was most likely correct about all of this. Well, now he knew what his gun was capable of, at least. Apparently it was a pretty decent one. He was lucky.
Then there was the second bit. A "hamburger phone"? He thought about that for a moment. Then it clicked.
Jasper-Declan wasn't stupid. People would occasionally think he was, due simply to his habit of not speaking until he was sure, but the truth was a sharp mind hid behind that quiet mouth of his. The connection wasn't too hard to make with enough information. This boy has a hamburger phone. Max has a golf club. Erik said he had...er...a 'porno'. "I don't know what Mike got, but..."
Ah. I see. Apparently this mister Danya is a tad...open minded when it comes to what he calls 'weapons'. It does appear that I am the only one here who actually received a weapon. I wonder if there's a reason for that...?
He wasn't sure if he liked that fact. On one hand, if he had to fight these guys off- if something went horribly wrong- logically, considering both his weapon and physical condition, he'd likely come out on top. On the other hand, it made the other boys wary of him.
...But perhaps that's a positive?
Either way, he didn't let go of the gun.
He heard Mike's whisper- probably not something he meant the others to hear, but Jasper-Declan had quite good hearing.
"Damn, is there really no way out of here?"
"...No. I do not believe there is."
Jasper-Declan shrugged, having come to terms with this not long after awakening. That was the only way to deal with any of this. Calm acceptance.
His other emotions, locked away, notwithstanding.
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Pigeon Army*
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
"Max, hey. Fancy seeing you here."
Max was loathe to leave anyone hanging when they so earnestly offered a high-five, and so Max returned Erik's offering with gusto. Besides, there was something about the act of high-fiving (fiving high?) that was reassuring, that said everything was going to be allright. Not that Max was entirely too sure why he was feeling uneasy. He couldn't recall anything that had happened since he fell asleep on the bus, and the cormorant attack had stopped him from rationalising his presence on an island any more than 'I'm not meant to be here'.
Suddenly, Max's eardrums were assaulted by the shrill screaming of the chubby kid, shrieking about Jasper-Declan's...shotgun?
SHOTGUN?
The chubby kid was banging on about his hamburger phone, and Mike was offering a none-too-condescending refutation of the gun's status as one of the shot variety, but Max wasn't concerned with either of those things. He couldn't care less that the gun wasn't as deadly as another type of gun, he couldn't give a damn about the chubby kid's jealousy; these were peripheral to the concern that someone on this island has a gun. Max glanced at Jasper-Declan's hands, noting the idle threat the actually kind of big gun posed, and knew that this wasn't just a senior management surprise or a misunderstanding with the travel agents.
In fact, if Max knew his current events, and he was pretty sure he did, this had nothing to do with the school at all.
He looked down at the golf club he'd been given; he looked at the crudely-stencilled "B097" on his bag; he looked at the gun again.
"Oh hell."
Max was loathe to leave anyone hanging when they so earnestly offered a high-five, and so Max returned Erik's offering with gusto. Besides, there was something about the act of high-fiving (fiving high?) that was reassuring, that said everything was going to be allright. Not that Max was entirely too sure why he was feeling uneasy. He couldn't recall anything that had happened since he fell asleep on the bus, and the cormorant attack had stopped him from rationalising his presence on an island any more than 'I'm not meant to be here'.
Suddenly, Max's eardrums were assaulted by the shrill screaming of the chubby kid, shrieking about Jasper-Declan's...shotgun?
SHOTGUN?
The chubby kid was banging on about his hamburger phone, and Mike was offering a none-too-condescending refutation of the gun's status as one of the shot variety, but Max wasn't concerned with either of those things. He couldn't care less that the gun wasn't as deadly as another type of gun, he couldn't give a damn about the chubby kid's jealousy; these were peripheral to the concern that someone on this island has a gun. Max glanced at Jasper-Declan's hands, noting the idle threat the actually kind of big gun posed, and knew that this wasn't just a senior management surprise or a misunderstanding with the travel agents.
In fact, if Max knew his current events, and he was pretty sure he did, this had nothing to do with the school at all.
He looked down at the golf club he'd been given; he looked at the crudely-stencilled "B097" on his bag; he looked at the gun again.
"Oh hell."
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ifnotwinter*
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:22 am
The cheerful high-five left Erik surprisingly relaxed. Here was someone else who wasn't worrying, who wasn't panicking, who was letting things come as they would. It was nice. Calming. Cooler heads prevailed, right? If they just kept their shit together, surely some option would present itself. It was ridiculous to think that this was it. They weren't going to...just die here, that was absurd. Impossible. No, they'd figure something out. They just had to remain sensible.
Unlike Tim Skula, who was shouting something about what gun Jasper-Declan had gotten. Erik swung around in order to listen better, just as Mike piped in that the gun was not in fact a shotgun, and then reeled off a massive amount of facts about what it was.
Well, that was...different.
And then Jasper finally decided to speak up, but in the worst way possible, rather nonchalantly informing Mike that there was no way out. Great. Erik rolled his eyes and took a step forwards, about to tell Jasper that he didn't need to be a dick about it and that yes, there probably would be a way out they just had to find it...but was interrupted before even beginning by Max's soft exclamation.
For a moment, he was confused. Then he saw Max's face, and his stomach dropped. Hard.
Had Max not realized? Erik had, waking up when he did, during Danya's speech and hell, he'd always been good at putting pieces together, but...had Max not? Suddenly, his cheerfully calm demeanor made sense. He wasn't just dealing with it, staying optimistic, working with what they'd got. He hadn't known. And now he did, and oh, fucking hell, this was not exactly what Erik needed right now.
Stay calm. Stay okay. His lips twitched for a moment in a private, inner smile. West Side Story, wasn't it? Stay cool, boy... He had a weird urge to snap his fingers, and suppressed it, leaning over instead to put a light hand on Max's shoulder, shooting a glare at Jasper behind him that would hopefully remind the socially-inept boy to shut up.
"Hey, dude." He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Listen...I mean, this isn't it. There's gotta be...there's some way out. It's okay, it's gonna be...just. Don't worry. It's all cool."
Have to believe it. Have to.
Unlike Tim Skula, who was shouting something about what gun Jasper-Declan had gotten. Erik swung around in order to listen better, just as Mike piped in that the gun was not in fact a shotgun, and then reeled off a massive amount of facts about what it was.
Well, that was...different.
And then Jasper finally decided to speak up, but in the worst way possible, rather nonchalantly informing Mike that there was no way out. Great. Erik rolled his eyes and took a step forwards, about to tell Jasper that he didn't need to be a dick about it and that yes, there probably would be a way out they just had to find it...but was interrupted before even beginning by Max's soft exclamation.
For a moment, he was confused. Then he saw Max's face, and his stomach dropped. Hard.
Had Max not realized? Erik had, waking up when he did, during Danya's speech and hell, he'd always been good at putting pieces together, but...had Max not? Suddenly, his cheerfully calm demeanor made sense. He wasn't just dealing with it, staying optimistic, working with what they'd got. He hadn't known. And now he did, and oh, fucking hell, this was not exactly what Erik needed right now.
Stay calm. Stay okay. His lips twitched for a moment in a private, inner smile. West Side Story, wasn't it? Stay cool, boy... He had a weird urge to snap his fingers, and suppressed it, leaning over instead to put a light hand on Max's shoulder, shooting a glare at Jasper behind him that would hopefully remind the socially-inept boy to shut up.
"Hey, dude." He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Listen...I mean, this isn't it. There's gotta be...there's some way out. It's okay, it's gonna be...just. Don't worry. It's all cool."
Have to believe it. Have to.
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GregTheAnti-Viking*
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Timothy's head snapped back as that Polish dude began spewing out about how this shot gun wasn't a shotgun but some handgun. As he went on an on about it his fists began to clench up. So it turned out this kid was athletic and a smart-ass too. It was a GUN and it fired a SHOT at what ever you aimed it at! Why the hell did this fucker have to get so technical about it all! This was just like all those times in math class when the teachers asked him to solve the problem as if he was the one with all the answers, and then one of those smart-ass nerds would pipe and go "Oh I know the answer! Let ME answer! I'm a fucking goodie-two shoes!" he fucking hated that.
He was starting to find it hard to keep his composure, but Mike whatshisname's question brought him back down to earth. Was there really a way out of here? Good ol' Stoneface McGee thought not, but then again, he was being creepy as hell and probably not the best source of advice. Sadly Max was just about a mile away from the conclusion about where they were and Erik wasn't exactly raising his arm up to answer the question just mumbling some wishy-washy feel good crap and not saying what to do.
Timothy casually ran a hand through his greasy hair and spat into the sand. He wasn't supposed to be the thinker here! He's was the dumb kid of this band of misfits he had no plans, he only knew one thing to do...
"Hell there probably is a way out dudes, but guess what? I don't fucking know how the hell we're gunna get to that mythical place...you got any ideas Mike? What about you Erik?"
Timothy may be dumb, but he realized that if he was even going to get his fat ass out of this hell hole, it'd be better to stick with the smart kids(not to mention the kid with the gun) then to just wander around like an idiot!
He was starting to find it hard to keep his composure, but Mike whatshisname's question brought him back down to earth. Was there really a way out of here? Good ol' Stoneface McGee thought not, but then again, he was being creepy as hell and probably not the best source of advice. Sadly Max was just about a mile away from the conclusion about where they were and Erik wasn't exactly raising his arm up to answer the question just mumbling some wishy-washy feel good crap and not saying what to do.
Timothy casually ran a hand through his greasy hair and spat into the sand. He wasn't supposed to be the thinker here! He's was the dumb kid of this band of misfits he had no plans, he only knew one thing to do...
"Hell there probably is a way out dudes, but guess what? I don't fucking know how the hell we're gunna get to that mythical place...you got any ideas Mike? What about you Erik?"
Timothy may be dumb, but he realized that if he was even going to get his fat ass out of this hell hole, it'd be better to stick with the smart kids(not to mention the kid with the gun) then to just wander around like an idiot!
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Yossarian*
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
Apparently, Mike didn't control his tone of voice and what was supposed to be a silent whisper turned out to be loud enough for anyone to hear.
Jasper's answer, which came only seconds after Mike's question, was the most devastating one.
"...No. I do not believe there is."
And even though both Erik and Codename: Fat Guy (he still didn't introduce himself) were thinking otherwise (or at least still hoped they can get out of there), Jasper's words were stuck in Pole's head.
No. I do not believe there is...
That pissed Mike off. How the hell he can be so calm about it? Is he a stoner or something?
Mike clenched his fists. It won't end like that. He had way too much to do back in Poland and there was way too many people he cared about to be just another victim of some sick game created by some sick terrorists.
"No..." Mike shook his head and stood up. "No, Jasper. I refuse to believe that. I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation, but I don't care. There must be a way out of here."
But where was that way? They were on the island, so they would need at least a big raft. Of course, probably the water line was patrolled by Danya's people, and even if not, they still had those collars which would blow them up if they would go too far... Or if they would try to remove them.
Damn, the situation looked really grim.
"Okay... So maybe there is no way out here for us..." The Pole was ready to give up, when suddenly a new idea entered his mind giving him another burst of inspiration and vigor. "BUT! Maybe there is a way for third party to get here, right?"
He looked at the rest of people gathered at the beach. "You know what I mean. We are kidnapped by the terrorist, aren't we? That means, the US government must be seeking us right now, right?"
Of course they did. But somehow they failed to last time. But why?
Yeah... Why?
"Guys, tell me if you know - Why did the US Force failed to save the students in the previous... Tournament?"
That last word hardly managed to sneak past Mike's throat as the whole idea made him sick, but he had to be strong. He felt like he was on the right track again and nothing should stop him now.
Jasper's answer, which came only seconds after Mike's question, was the most devastating one.
"...No. I do not believe there is."
And even though both Erik and Codename: Fat Guy (he still didn't introduce himself) were thinking otherwise (or at least still hoped they can get out of there), Jasper's words were stuck in Pole's head.
No. I do not believe there is...
That pissed Mike off. How the hell he can be so calm about it? Is he a stoner or something?
Mike clenched his fists. It won't end like that. He had way too much to do back in Poland and there was way too many people he cared about to be just another victim of some sick game created by some sick terrorists.
"No..." Mike shook his head and stood up. "No, Jasper. I refuse to believe that. I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation, but I don't care. There must be a way out of here."
But where was that way? They were on the island, so they would need at least a big raft. Of course, probably the water line was patrolled by Danya's people, and even if not, they still had those collars which would blow them up if they would go too far... Or if they would try to remove them.
Damn, the situation looked really grim.
"Okay... So maybe there is no way out here for us..." The Pole was ready to give up, when suddenly a new idea entered his mind giving him another burst of inspiration and vigor. "BUT! Maybe there is a way for third party to get here, right?"
He looked at the rest of people gathered at the beach. "You know what I mean. We are kidnapped by the terrorist, aren't we? That means, the US government must be seeking us right now, right?"
Of course they did. But somehow they failed to last time. But why?
Yeah... Why?
"Guys, tell me if you know - Why did the US Force failed to save the students in the previous... Tournament?"
That last word hardly managed to sneak past Mike's throat as the whole idea made him sick, but he had to be strong. He felt like he was on the right track again and nothing should stop him now.
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Hollyquin*
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
He didn't like this. Not one bit. Not that most students would enjoy being put on an island and forced to kill each other, but that wasn't even bothering him at this moment.
This was very...familiar. The dirty looks, the willful ignoring of whatever it was he'd just said. It was his entire life, all over again.
Except this time he had a gun.
Jasper-Declan didn't grudge them this, though. He wasn't your stereotypical teenage headcase, given a gun and finally having the opportunity for vengeance on those who had once teased him. He understood that he was simply incomprehensible to most other people. Besides, it wasn't like he was teased much. He was more...ignored. It was easier that way, for others and for him.
It is not a problem at home...they ignore me and I ignore them. I am able to go on my own way. Or if circumstances dictate that we work together, the disdain they hold for me becomes irrelevant. Here, however, trust seems to be key. And they do not trust me.
He mulled this over. There was a choice to make here. The others were all nice enough, as far as he could tell. Illogical? Sure, but most teenagers were, to his eternal dismay. On the other hand, they did not trust him. They didn't seem to like him. He was the one with the good weapon, of course, and if they turned against him he could fight them off, but...
But I do not wish to do that. I do not wish to travel with a group that may force me to hurt them in the near future. I...do not wish to kill.
"No...No, Jasper. I refuse to believe that. I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation, but I don't care. There must be a way out of here."
Jasper-Declan blinked. "I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation..."
This didn't make sense. Not being calm, didn't make sense. Panic didn't make sense.
He made his decision.
"I...apologize for my lack of information regarding our current situation. I do not know what transpired in the previous rounds of this competition. However...I do believe I am going to depart. Please, take care of yourselves. I do not wish to hear of any of your deaths."
With a deep nod, Jasper-Declan walked slowly away from the beach, after one last regretful look at the water. Ah, the ocean...you shall see me again. I swear it.
When he was far enough away from the boys that he could no longer be seen, he reloaded his gun.
Just in case.
[[Jasper-Declan MacDermott continued in Pearl and Destiny]]
This was very...familiar. The dirty looks, the willful ignoring of whatever it was he'd just said. It was his entire life, all over again.
Except this time he had a gun.
Jasper-Declan didn't grudge them this, though. He wasn't your stereotypical teenage headcase, given a gun and finally having the opportunity for vengeance on those who had once teased him. He understood that he was simply incomprehensible to most other people. Besides, it wasn't like he was teased much. He was more...ignored. It was easier that way, for others and for him.
It is not a problem at home...they ignore me and I ignore them. I am able to go on my own way. Or if circumstances dictate that we work together, the disdain they hold for me becomes irrelevant. Here, however, trust seems to be key. And they do not trust me.
He mulled this over. There was a choice to make here. The others were all nice enough, as far as he could tell. Illogical? Sure, but most teenagers were, to his eternal dismay. On the other hand, they did not trust him. They didn't seem to like him. He was the one with the good weapon, of course, and if they turned against him he could fight them off, but...
But I do not wish to do that. I do not wish to travel with a group that may force me to hurt them in the near future. I...do not wish to kill.
"No...No, Jasper. I refuse to believe that. I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation, but I don't care. There must be a way out of here."
Jasper-Declan blinked. "I don't know how you can be so calm about the situation..."
This didn't make sense. Not being calm, didn't make sense. Panic didn't make sense.
He made his decision.
"I...apologize for my lack of information regarding our current situation. I do not know what transpired in the previous rounds of this competition. However...I do believe I am going to depart. Please, take care of yourselves. I do not wish to hear of any of your deaths."
With a deep nod, Jasper-Declan walked slowly away from the beach, after one last regretful look at the water. Ah, the ocean...you shall see me again. I swear it.
When he was far enough away from the boys that he could no longer be seen, he reloaded his gun.
Just in case.
[[Jasper-Declan MacDermott continued in Pearl and Destiny]]
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Pigeon Army*
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
The next few minutes remained a blur of sorts for Max as he wrestled with the enormity of the situation. He and his friends had been put on an island to kill each other, and that was a whole other level of heavy, even for someone who had spent his entire senior year sticking his neck out for his fellow students. Max knew he didn't have it in him to kill, especially not the people who'd trusted him with their school and with their year - not the people who'd liked him enough to do that. On top of that, the island didn't exactly seem like the easiest place to escape. So what was left? What other options did Max have available?
Dazed, Max shook his head and came back into the real world. The chubby kid had just finished sniping at everyone, or so it seemed - Erik and Mike weren't exactly looking terribly pleased with him. Mike piped up in response, his apparent lack of an inside voice exacerbating the problems caused by his thick accent.
"Okay... So maybe there is no way out here for us...BUT! Maybe there is a way for third party to get here, right? You know what I mean. We are kidnapped by the terrorist, aren't we? That means, the US government must be seeking us right now, right?"
Max raised an eyebrow. Mike wasn't half wrong - the endless reassurances by the US government the last time SotF rolled around that something would be done were still relatively fresh in Max's mind. He'd read enough papers and seen enough news stories to know that the government was doing something - Republicans responded well to crises, it's what they did best. They were to threats against national security what Tigger was to bouncing. He was sure that they'd be scanning the oceans looking for them.
Max grabbed his daypack and opened up, rifling through the clutter for anything helpful. His cellphone had been taken, as had the snacks he had packed. No marshmallows on this trip, he thought to himself, chuckling through the bitterness at the bad joke. Eventually, Max pulled out a map of the island and tinny little compass. The map was rough, but it was easy to follow. The first thing that caught Max's eye was a destroyed cellphone tower at the center of the island, but that was unlikely to be of any help unless they were trying to wave down a random plane. The second thing was the urban hub in the centre of the island. Max stared at the points marked 'Town Center', 'Mansion', 'Mines', 'Sawmill' - he began to piece together the evidence. There was a town here...but how long ago? Does anyone know this island exists? Max continued scanning the map, and before long noticed the lighthouse, standing on a cliff to..."our left." Max unfolded the map and shoved it and the compass in the pocket of his jeans. Picking up his golf club from the ground he'd unceremoniously dropped it on, he looked around at the people on the beach - Erik, the chubby kid, Mike and...
"Where'd Jasper go?"
Max looked around, but the lanky boy seemed to have disappeared. Max wondered just how long he'd been staring at the map, trying to find a vantage point. It had felt like a few minutes, but Jasper's sneaking off into the evening seemed to mark it as longer. But anyway...
Max turned back to the remaining three. "Mike's right, but we can't just stand around while we wait for the US military to storm down the island. Jasper had the right idea, we've gotta keep moving. There's a lighthouse a few clicks to the west. It'll be decent shelter and there may be some kind of radio or something there, and even if there isn't, we might be able to get the lighthouse working. If this island is near any shipping lanes, they might be able to see us - and I won't be surprised if it is, the map says this place used to be a mining venture of some sort."
Max looked at the ragtag group of students he'd hoisted himself upon. It was his job to step up to the plate, to take the lead - his parents had told him that time and again as a kid. No time for tears. No time for hesitation. No time for cowardice.
"So, who's with me?"
Dazed, Max shook his head and came back into the real world. The chubby kid had just finished sniping at everyone, or so it seemed - Erik and Mike weren't exactly looking terribly pleased with him. Mike piped up in response, his apparent lack of an inside voice exacerbating the problems caused by his thick accent.
"Okay... So maybe there is no way out here for us...BUT! Maybe there is a way for third party to get here, right? You know what I mean. We are kidnapped by the terrorist, aren't we? That means, the US government must be seeking us right now, right?"
Max raised an eyebrow. Mike wasn't half wrong - the endless reassurances by the US government the last time SotF rolled around that something would be done were still relatively fresh in Max's mind. He'd read enough papers and seen enough news stories to know that the government was doing something - Republicans responded well to crises, it's what they did best. They were to threats against national security what Tigger was to bouncing. He was sure that they'd be scanning the oceans looking for them.
Max grabbed his daypack and opened up, rifling through the clutter for anything helpful. His cellphone had been taken, as had the snacks he had packed. No marshmallows on this trip, he thought to himself, chuckling through the bitterness at the bad joke. Eventually, Max pulled out a map of the island and tinny little compass. The map was rough, but it was easy to follow. The first thing that caught Max's eye was a destroyed cellphone tower at the center of the island, but that was unlikely to be of any help unless they were trying to wave down a random plane. The second thing was the urban hub in the centre of the island. Max stared at the points marked 'Town Center', 'Mansion', 'Mines', 'Sawmill' - he began to piece together the evidence. There was a town here...but how long ago? Does anyone know this island exists? Max continued scanning the map, and before long noticed the lighthouse, standing on a cliff to..."our left." Max unfolded the map and shoved it and the compass in the pocket of his jeans. Picking up his golf club from the ground he'd unceremoniously dropped it on, he looked around at the people on the beach - Erik, the chubby kid, Mike and...
"Where'd Jasper go?"
Max looked around, but the lanky boy seemed to have disappeared. Max wondered just how long he'd been staring at the map, trying to find a vantage point. It had felt like a few minutes, but Jasper's sneaking off into the evening seemed to mark it as longer. But anyway...
Max turned back to the remaining three. "Mike's right, but we can't just stand around while we wait for the US military to storm down the island. Jasper had the right idea, we've gotta keep moving. There's a lighthouse a few clicks to the west. It'll be decent shelter and there may be some kind of radio or something there, and even if there isn't, we might be able to get the lighthouse working. If this island is near any shipping lanes, they might be able to see us - and I won't be surprised if it is, the map says this place used to be a mining venture of some sort."
Max looked at the ragtag group of students he'd hoisted himself upon. It was his job to step up to the plate, to take the lead - his parents had told him that time and again as a kid. No time for tears. No time for hesitation. No time for cowardice.
"So, who's with me?"
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ifnotwinter*
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:22 am
Between Mike's desperate optimism (and oh, god, Erik prided himself on being an optimist but all he could think of now was the fact that three, four if you counted the one that hadn't been broadcast, seasons of SOTF had been played out and the US government hadn't found anyone yet and sure, the law of averages were on their side but he couldn't help thinking why not before? and how do we know they'll find us this time?), Timothy's bitter cynicism, and Jasper's general lack of a clue...seriously, the guy seemed a good five miles out of the loop; didn't even talk like a high-school student, Erik was beginning to despair just a little bit. Especially when Jasper left, since there went the one chance of really defending themselves unless someone was allergic to pornography. Or could be tricked into eating cyanide, or...found hamburger phones really, really tacky.
But when Max spoke up, Erik found himself looking at the boy in a new light. Obviously he hadn't understood his place on Survival of the Fittest before, but now that he did...there was no hesitation. No desperation, just planning. God, Erik had practically gone catatonic. He'd cried. He wasn't usually embarrassed about crying, but hell, he'd figured he was supposed to be the strong one, and here was someone blasting in and taking over without a hitch. It was admirable. And...kind of sexy.
Sexy. Oh, christ, Bobby. And Brendan. His stomach twisted again as he realized two truths at the same time - one, that Brendan was still out there and could be dying, and two, that he'd thought of Bobby...unreachable, perfect Bobby Barren...before he'd thought of his boyfriend. Even being on an island and forced to kill each other didn't cure teenagers of shallow, apparently.
"Yeah. Yeah." He swallowed, shoving his hair back from his face and taking a step forwards. "Uh. Definitely with you dude, one hundred percent. And can we...look, this is a lot to ask, I know, but can we maybe keep an eye out for Brendan? Brendan Wallace? About...you know, yea high, good looking, uh...my boyfriend?"
Another thought hit him like a thunderbolt. "And Chloe! Chloe Strong, you fully know here...you know, kind of big, but totally awesome. And beautiful. God, yeah, Chloe. We should find her." He turned his head, pretended to rummage in his pack to hide the blush rising on his face. Not one of embarrassment so much as one of shame, that he hadn't thought of his friends. That he'd spent god knows how long just wallowing selfishly in his own misery.
"I don't...I don't really have a weapon, but a good size rock, maybe, or a branch...we oughta try and protect ourselves, y'know?"
But when Max spoke up, Erik found himself looking at the boy in a new light. Obviously he hadn't understood his place on Survival of the Fittest before, but now that he did...there was no hesitation. No desperation, just planning. God, Erik had practically gone catatonic. He'd cried. He wasn't usually embarrassed about crying, but hell, he'd figured he was supposed to be the strong one, and here was someone blasting in and taking over without a hitch. It was admirable. And...kind of sexy.
Sexy. Oh, christ, Bobby. And Brendan. His stomach twisted again as he realized two truths at the same time - one, that Brendan was still out there and could be dying, and two, that he'd thought of Bobby...unreachable, perfect Bobby Barren...before he'd thought of his boyfriend. Even being on an island and forced to kill each other didn't cure teenagers of shallow, apparently.
"Yeah. Yeah." He swallowed, shoving his hair back from his face and taking a step forwards. "Uh. Definitely with you dude, one hundred percent. And can we...look, this is a lot to ask, I know, but can we maybe keep an eye out for Brendan? Brendan Wallace? About...you know, yea high, good looking, uh...my boyfriend?"
Another thought hit him like a thunderbolt. "And Chloe! Chloe Strong, you fully know here...you know, kind of big, but totally awesome. And beautiful. God, yeah, Chloe. We should find her." He turned his head, pretended to rummage in his pack to hide the blush rising on his face. Not one of embarrassment so much as one of shame, that he hadn't thought of his friends. That he'd spent god knows how long just wallowing selfishly in his own misery.
"I don't...I don't really have a weapon, but a good size rock, maybe, or a branch...we oughta try and protect ourselves, y'know?"