Act I - Acqua Azzuro, Acqua Chiara
((Alessio Rigano continued from This Nearly Was Mine))
Hit first, regret later.
On the beach Alessio was lying. Next to him, was the bow. In his pocket and bag were the gun and the hammer. Some steps further, there's the cave. Alessio was far away from the center of the island. He was far from civilisation, he was alone, and that was good. He never wanted to go back to the burnt building where he killed his friend and where Vanessa's beautiful body would lose her beauty.
He killed Maxim. He did not knock him unconscious. It was a crack. Maxim's face had looked so angry and dangerous. Evil. But after Alessio hit Maxim with the hammer, it looked. Ew.
That was not the plan. Violence against Maxim was not the plan, but he did it anyway. Alessio slided his hands through his curly, unwashed hair and closed his eyes. He pressed his eyelids as if that would help. Alessio could not convince him through words. Failure.
What could he do? He overthought stuff. Perhaps he should just let it flow, instead of planning stuff and worrying about things he shouldn't worry about, because he had no control over it and never will have no matter how hard he tried. He did not need a plan. He just needed to sleep, relax, waiting for the end to come naturally. Be spontanous.
Alessio opened his eyes to stare at the sky. It felt so surreal. He was in pain. No part of his body was okay. He did not feel comfortable as he did at home. Alessio thought about home, but he couldn't really feel home. He could not describe what was different. How he felt with no pain. He couldn't recall how he felt clean. What feeling it was to feel clean.
Lonely. That's how it was. Everyone around him was dying. But now he was on the corner of the island and hopefully no one will harm him. No, actually he hoped no one would come so he couldn't harm them.
Waiting for the End
((Emma Luz continued from El Manana))
It was the first time Emma had killed anything bigger than an insect.
Back home, they had chickens. Sometimes the chickens wouldn't lay, sometimes they were simply too old, sometimes it was something else. But during those "sometimes," it usually ended in one thing: the chicken getting the axe. Mom and Dad wouldn't let her and Sabrina watch it when they did, at least, when they were little. Usually, the chicken was taken to the backyard, out of sight. However, Emma heard it, at least once. She remembered it vividly.
Thunk.
It was unceremonious. The chicken didn't caw out or anything. It's just, one second it was alive, the next it wasn't. Simple as that. And yet, when she was little, Emma refused to have any part in it. It was a bit of a rule in her family that everyone helped in the kitchen, and did what they were capable of. By the time they got to see the bird, it'd been already de-feathered and decapitated. However, when she was in early elementary, she thought it was? She'd remembered crying when she first realized that the chicken had come from the coop. She hadn't wanted the chicken to die, she didn't want to cook it, she didn't want to eat it. Mom and Dad had tried to calm her down some, telling her that the chicken had lived a long and happy life with them, and not eating it would be a waste. Gently, since she was still small. But it was a reality.
When she got a few years older, she couldn't help but find herself becoming interested in the innards of the bird. It was a bit like dissection in school, in a way. There was what Mom pointed out as the gizzard, which was still full of scratch, pill bugs, and even pebbles. She'd find out later that food was stored there, until it moved to the true stomach. Sometimes there were half-formed eggs, still soft and small. There was the large, red liver, and spongy lungs. There were bones and muscles too, of course. Emma had become interested in anatomy, so looking at the animal's insides wasn't an unpleasant experience.
However, she still didn't like eating chicken if she knew it was one of theirs. Sure, they'd eaten chicken from elsewhere most of the time, and she was okay with that. Did that make her a hypocrite? Who knew? All she knew was that there was something different about knowing an animal before you kill and eat it.
Which may have explained how she felt about killing a seagull.
She'd been walking along the beach, looking for food. That's when she found it. It'd been roaming around the cove. It'd looked at her, with curious dark eyes. Seagulls were a dime-a-dozen here, nothing new. But Emma had stared back at it for almost a minute. She'd become aware of the sword in her hands.
It didn't take too long. The seagull had tried to fly off, but Emma dropped the sword into the sand. Instead, she picked up a rock and threw it in its direction when it got just a foot off the ground. It was a hasty decision, and one she'd doubt it'd work. But it connected. The seagull fell to the sand, shrieking in pain. Emma could see that one of its wings was crooked, and it was struggling to flap both wings. She took another deep breath, and picked the sword up.
She walked over to the bird, still flapping its wings to no avail.
She had to take another moment.
But after that moment, she heard it. It was somewhat muffled by the sand, but it was still distinguishable. It was a simple thunk.
Emma walked back to her makeshift campsite, headless bird dripping into the sand. Earlier, once she stopped feeling as tired, she'd done a bit of searching for driftwood. At some point, around noon, she'd noticed that there was already what appeared to be a quickly made firepit of some sort, with burnt driftwood at the center. It looked like someone had a similar idea. Who, Emma didn't know. For a moment, Emma stared at it, before she realized it'd been a few days old at that point. Whoever used it was likely long gone by this point. Nonetheless, she'd waited a few minutes. When no one showed up, she decided to use it. Emma had found a bit more wood strewn across the beach, some that could even be used as kindling. Some of it was still wet, so she couldn't use it, but there was quite a bit that'd work. Even with some of the wet wood, she'd managed to scrape some of the bark away. Tinder was also easy to find. The grass along the shoreline seemed like it'd work.
So, after her episode with the seagull, she'd come back, and began setting up the fire. There were ways to start a fire without a match or lighter, but luckily, Emma had found out that there was a lighter in the first aid kit anyways. So, she used that.
It wasn't a big fire. Nothing you'd expect out of a bonfire or anything. But it was fire. Something she needed, for warmth and for cooking.
Once the fire was big enough, she put the bird's carcass right up to the edge of the flames. Emma had spent a few minutes already cleaning the seagull. Its feathers were still scattered about in the wind, and she'd tossed its organs into the ocean. Cutting it open with the sword was a bit tricky, because it was big, and looked more for cleaving than for stabbing. However, she'd poked it open with the rounded pointed tip, and took some time removing the innards with her hands. She had to take some more time to slather her hands with sanitizer, since germs were still an issue.
Emma wasn't sure how edible seagulls were, to be honest. She'd read somewhere that they ate garbage, like rats. Maybe they weren't the best thing she could be eating. But at least it was protein. She couldn't live off bread and ration bars forever.
She sat in the sand, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand.
Jaime died yesterday. He didn't give that many details about what happened exactly. Just that she'd gotten into an argument with Brendan Harte, and then he'd killed her. Jaime always had a knack for getting into arguments. Emma thought back to that last one they'd had, before she'd run away. She still didn't want to believe that the only way out was by killing people, but with each passing day, it became more and more clear that no one here was willing to give anyone mercy. Some part of her still felt bad that Jaime had died, though.
Emma had abandoned her. Even now, sometimes, she wondered if she could have done something to prevent it.
Too late to wonder now.
Emma closed her eyes.
She'd been feeling better than yesterday. Emma had realized that she occasionally missed her doses, so she made sure to take them today. She still had some pills left. Hopefully that'd be enough for a while. She'd gotten a lot done today, as well. Starting a fire, cooking a bird. When it hit later in the afternoon, though, her familiar fog had started to come back. Her hand slipped with the sword a few times, making Emma worry that she was going to slice herself open with it. Nothing happened, but it was still worth worrying about. But it didn't help that a few colorful shapes had floated in and out of her vision. Sometimes, she'd see shadowy figures out of the corners of her eyes. Nothing too detailed, fortunately, but maybe she'd feel better once she got some food into her.
That'd be nice.
So, Emma sat, the sound of waves and cracking fire surrounding her, and the smell of cooking meat and seaweed filling the air. The smoke rose into the air, and could be seen from a distance. She was unaware of anyone nearby.
It was the first time Emma had killed anything bigger than an insect.
Back home, they had chickens. Sometimes the chickens wouldn't lay, sometimes they were simply too old, sometimes it was something else. But during those "sometimes," it usually ended in one thing: the chicken getting the axe. Mom and Dad wouldn't let her and Sabrina watch it when they did, at least, when they were little. Usually, the chicken was taken to the backyard, out of sight. However, Emma heard it, at least once. She remembered it vividly.
Thunk.
It was unceremonious. The chicken didn't caw out or anything. It's just, one second it was alive, the next it wasn't. Simple as that. And yet, when she was little, Emma refused to have any part in it. It was a bit of a rule in her family that everyone helped in the kitchen, and did what they were capable of. By the time they got to see the bird, it'd been already de-feathered and decapitated. However, when she was in early elementary, she thought it was? She'd remembered crying when she first realized that the chicken had come from the coop. She hadn't wanted the chicken to die, she didn't want to cook it, she didn't want to eat it. Mom and Dad had tried to calm her down some, telling her that the chicken had lived a long and happy life with them, and not eating it would be a waste. Gently, since she was still small. But it was a reality.
When she got a few years older, she couldn't help but find herself becoming interested in the innards of the bird. It was a bit like dissection in school, in a way. There was what Mom pointed out as the gizzard, which was still full of scratch, pill bugs, and even pebbles. She'd find out later that food was stored there, until it moved to the true stomach. Sometimes there were half-formed eggs, still soft and small. There was the large, red liver, and spongy lungs. There were bones and muscles too, of course. Emma had become interested in anatomy, so looking at the animal's insides wasn't an unpleasant experience.
However, she still didn't like eating chicken if she knew it was one of theirs. Sure, they'd eaten chicken from elsewhere most of the time, and she was okay with that. Did that make her a hypocrite? Who knew? All she knew was that there was something different about knowing an animal before you kill and eat it.
Which may have explained how she felt about killing a seagull.
She'd been walking along the beach, looking for food. That's when she found it. It'd been roaming around the cove. It'd looked at her, with curious dark eyes. Seagulls were a dime-a-dozen here, nothing new. But Emma had stared back at it for almost a minute. She'd become aware of the sword in her hands.
It didn't take too long. The seagull had tried to fly off, but Emma dropped the sword into the sand. Instead, she picked up a rock and threw it in its direction when it got just a foot off the ground. It was a hasty decision, and one she'd doubt it'd work. But it connected. The seagull fell to the sand, shrieking in pain. Emma could see that one of its wings was crooked, and it was struggling to flap both wings. She took another deep breath, and picked the sword up.
She walked over to the bird, still flapping its wings to no avail.
She had to take another moment.
But after that moment, she heard it. It was somewhat muffled by the sand, but it was still distinguishable. It was a simple thunk.
Emma walked back to her makeshift campsite, headless bird dripping into the sand. Earlier, once she stopped feeling as tired, she'd done a bit of searching for driftwood. At some point, around noon, she'd noticed that there was already what appeared to be a quickly made firepit of some sort, with burnt driftwood at the center. It looked like someone had a similar idea. Who, Emma didn't know. For a moment, Emma stared at it, before she realized it'd been a few days old at that point. Whoever used it was likely long gone by this point. Nonetheless, she'd waited a few minutes. When no one showed up, she decided to use it. Emma had found a bit more wood strewn across the beach, some that could even be used as kindling. Some of it was still wet, so she couldn't use it, but there was quite a bit that'd work. Even with some of the wet wood, she'd managed to scrape some of the bark away. Tinder was also easy to find. The grass along the shoreline seemed like it'd work.
So, after her episode with the seagull, she'd come back, and began setting up the fire. There were ways to start a fire without a match or lighter, but luckily, Emma had found out that there was a lighter in the first aid kit anyways. So, she used that.
It wasn't a big fire. Nothing you'd expect out of a bonfire or anything. But it was fire. Something she needed, for warmth and for cooking.
Once the fire was big enough, she put the bird's carcass right up to the edge of the flames. Emma had spent a few minutes already cleaning the seagull. Its feathers were still scattered about in the wind, and she'd tossed its organs into the ocean. Cutting it open with the sword was a bit tricky, because it was big, and looked more for cleaving than for stabbing. However, she'd poked it open with the rounded pointed tip, and took some time removing the innards with her hands. She had to take some more time to slather her hands with sanitizer, since germs were still an issue.
Emma wasn't sure how edible seagulls were, to be honest. She'd read somewhere that they ate garbage, like rats. Maybe they weren't the best thing she could be eating. But at least it was protein. She couldn't live off bread and ration bars forever.
She sat in the sand, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand.
Jaime died yesterday. He didn't give that many details about what happened exactly. Just that she'd gotten into an argument with Brendan Harte, and then he'd killed her. Jaime always had a knack for getting into arguments. Emma thought back to that last one they'd had, before she'd run away. She still didn't want to believe that the only way out was by killing people, but with each passing day, it became more and more clear that no one here was willing to give anyone mercy. Some part of her still felt bad that Jaime had died, though.
Emma had abandoned her. Even now, sometimes, she wondered if she could have done something to prevent it.
Too late to wonder now.
Emma closed her eyes.
She'd been feeling better than yesterday. Emma had realized that she occasionally missed her doses, so she made sure to take them today. She still had some pills left. Hopefully that'd be enough for a while. She'd gotten a lot done today, as well. Starting a fire, cooking a bird. When it hit later in the afternoon, though, her familiar fog had started to come back. Her hand slipped with the sword a few times, making Emma worry that she was going to slice herself open with it. Nothing happened, but it was still worth worrying about. But it didn't help that a few colorful shapes had floated in and out of her vision. Sometimes, she'd see shadowy figures out of the corners of her eyes. Nothing too detailed, fortunately, but maybe she'd feel better once she got some food into her.
That'd be nice.
So, Emma sat, the sound of waves and cracking fire surrounding her, and the smell of cooking meat and seaweed filling the air. The smoke rose into the air, and could be seen from a distance. She was unaware of anyone nearby.
There was smoke flying through the air, the wind of the ocean carrying it. Perhaps Alessio could still lie there. But nature couldn't cause this fire. The smell of burnt wood filled Al's nose. There was a human somewhere near him. He stood up.
He put the bag onto his shoulders, gun in his pocket. It was getting late. It was a good thing Alessio could spend much time alone, without his classmates, competitors. Everytime he had to deal with other people on the island, it was harming him or them. Being alone also sucked, but he got used to it. It was less stressful than dealing with a-
Tired and worn out Emma, who ate. what. the. fuck.
Alessio would have puked if he could.
"EW!"
As Alessio walked the beach and came nearer Emma he saw what she had done. He assumed she ate a dead bird she found lying on the beach somewhere.
"What the fuck is this you're eating?"
They had crackers. They had crackers, and she picks up dead things from the island.
"Just go away from here. Leave me alone."
He pulled out his gun, pointing it on the sand.
He put the bag onto his shoulders, gun in his pocket. It was getting late. It was a good thing Alessio could spend much time alone, without his classmates, competitors. Everytime he had to deal with other people on the island, it was harming him or them. Being alone also sucked, but he got used to it. It was less stressful than dealing with a-
Tired and worn out Emma, who ate. what. the. fuck.
Alessio would have puked if he could.
"EW!"
As Alessio walked the beach and came nearer Emma he saw what she had done. He assumed she ate a dead bird she found lying on the beach somewhere.
"What the fuck is this you're eating?"
They had crackers. They had crackers, and she picks up dead things from the island.
"Just go away from here. Leave me alone."
He pulled out his gun, pointing it on the sand.
For a few minutes, images once again flickered behind her eyelids.
It was the bird, still alive. Its black and white feathers shimmered in the fire, as it looked at her with those dark eyes. It made no noise, only stared at Emma. Emma stared back.
There were crunching noises, like footsteps in sand.
Emma's eyes snapped open. In the slowly dimming light, she saw an afterimage of a person, that flicked away the second she moved her head towards it. She looked the other way, the direction the footsteps were coming from. She froze for a moment once she recognized who it was. Emma had been on the school orchestra with Alessio, and he was generally a quiet person. That wasn't important, though. What was important was that Alessio had been on the announcements. Multiple times. He'd killed a girl with a bag. He'd shot Kizi. He'd killed someone with a pickaxe. Maybe more "someones."
Point was, Alessio wasn't good news. Emma's right hand landed on top of the sword's hilt. It wasn't rocket science to know that you wouldn't want someone like Alessio nearby. Deep breath. What should you do in a situation like this?
Then Alessio did the last thing she expected: cry out in disgust. Emma flinched. Why that reaction? She got her answer a few seconds later.
"What."
That was her only response to that. Just a "what."
It looked like Alessio was grossed out by the bird? He'd come over to yell at her over it, as if it was the most disgusting thing imaginable. Didn't he kill several people? Then he told her to leave, as if she was the one who walked in on him. She took another breath. Her fatigued mind tried to come up with solutions.
She could make it clear that she had a weapon, which would make killing her trickier. Sure, it was a heavy weapon, but still a weapon. She could throw a rock at him. She could use the fire to get him away. Heck, she could even throw the bird at him. It'd be wasting food, but at least he'd leave. Or, she'd have enough time to run away if he was dangerous. One more breath. Then:
"Alessio. What are you doing here?"
Emma had tried her best to sound friendly. And yet, an undercurrent of lowness came to her voice. She knew that Alessio wasn't going to give her any mercy. Heck, she saw a gun in his hands. He too had a weapon, and he could shoot her in a second.
She straightened up a bit, and tried to keep the fear off her face. She must have looked vulnerable, alone and clearly tired like this. She didn't want to give that impression, even if there was truth to that. If things escalated, she should leave like he asked. There was no use sticking around danger.
It was the bird, still alive. Its black and white feathers shimmered in the fire, as it looked at her with those dark eyes. It made no noise, only stared at Emma. Emma stared back.
There were crunching noises, like footsteps in sand.
Emma's eyes snapped open. In the slowly dimming light, she saw an afterimage of a person, that flicked away the second she moved her head towards it. She looked the other way, the direction the footsteps were coming from. She froze for a moment once she recognized who it was. Emma had been on the school orchestra with Alessio, and he was generally a quiet person. That wasn't important, though. What was important was that Alessio had been on the announcements. Multiple times. He'd killed a girl with a bag. He'd shot Kizi. He'd killed someone with a pickaxe. Maybe more "someones."
Point was, Alessio wasn't good news. Emma's right hand landed on top of the sword's hilt. It wasn't rocket science to know that you wouldn't want someone like Alessio nearby. Deep breath. What should you do in a situation like this?
Then Alessio did the last thing she expected: cry out in disgust. Emma flinched. Why that reaction? She got her answer a few seconds later.
"What."
That was her only response to that. Just a "what."
It looked like Alessio was grossed out by the bird? He'd come over to yell at her over it, as if it was the most disgusting thing imaginable. Didn't he kill several people? Then he told her to leave, as if she was the one who walked in on him. She took another breath. Her fatigued mind tried to come up with solutions.
She could make it clear that she had a weapon, which would make killing her trickier. Sure, it was a heavy weapon, but still a weapon. She could throw a rock at him. She could use the fire to get him away. Heck, she could even throw the bird at him. It'd be wasting food, but at least he'd leave. Or, she'd have enough time to run away if he was dangerous. One more breath. Then:
"Alessio. What are you doing here?"
Emma had tried her best to sound friendly. And yet, an undercurrent of lowness came to her voice. She knew that Alessio wasn't going to give her any mercy. Heck, she saw a gun in his hands. He too had a weapon, and he could shoot her in a second.
She straightened up a bit, and tried to keep the fear off her face. She must have looked vulnerable, alone and clearly tired like this. She didn't want to give that impression, even if there was truth to that. If things escalated, she should leave like he asked. There was no use sticking around danger.
"What I'm doing here?"
Alessio was not sure how to answer the question. Why was he here and not somewhere else? Why was he at the beach instead of the asylum. Why was he at the island instead of home? It was a hard question to answer.
Alessio thought of a reply, but then decided that he is not able to reply. Alessio really regretted that he left his weapons he earned at the cafeteria. It was a shame. Especially since the safe zone group cannot use it, but Al damn does need them right now. He pointed his gun at Emma.
"What are you doing here? I don't want you, I don't need you. I don't want to deal with you."
He tightened his eyebrows to look more angry.
"If you want frie- allies, go to the cafeteria of the asylum. In there are people who want to change things. I want to be alone. Leave me alone. Go away."
Alessio was not sure how to answer the question. Why was he here and not somewhere else? Why was he at the beach instead of the asylum. Why was he at the island instead of home? It was a hard question to answer.
Alessio thought of a reply, but then decided that he is not able to reply. Alessio really regretted that he left his weapons he earned at the cafeteria. It was a shame. Especially since the safe zone group cannot use it, but Al damn does need them right now. He pointed his gun at Emma.
"What are you doing here? I don't want you, I don't need you. I don't want to deal with you."
He tightened his eyebrows to look more angry.
"If you want frie- allies, go to the cafeteria of the asylum. In there are people who want to change things. I want to be alone. Leave me alone. Go away."
There was no use arguing.
Emma stood up with unsteady legs. If he was going to threaten her, it was a good idea to do what he said. There were some hills you just can't die on, and in this case, it was literal. It wasn't worth it to stick around, since he made a clear ultimatum. Fire was good, so was food. It was a nice place to stay, but safety was more important.
"Fine. I'll head out," she said, her voice still letting uneasiness seep through.
Emma reached down to grab her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Next was her sword. The entire time, she kept her eyes on Alessio. The gun was now pointed at her. That was only a sign that she needed to leave. There were safer spaces, ones without people.
For a moment, she stopped. A new thought passed through. Was it in any way right to just leave him? He was a killer, and one who would likely kill again. She could do something to make sure he didn't. If he killed again, would she be to blame? Maybe it was a sense of responsibility that remained. People were ripping each other apart, they were monsters. Every one of them. And here she was, still feeling responsible. But another old feeling came up, one that also didn't feel good. She tightly closed her eyes for a moment at the thought.
She couldn't do it.
Emma took a few more steps backwards, her focus still on Alessio. Could she? But she had to ask a question. She felt dumb asking. Not because it was a dumb question, but because her life was on the line right now.
"Oh before I go I have a question."
She hoped that this wouldn't be the last question she'd ask. It took some effort getting it out, but she did it.
"What's at the cafeteria?"
Some part of her doubted it was anything good. It could be a trick of some sort. And yet, stupid, stupid her had to ask.
Emma stood up with unsteady legs. If he was going to threaten her, it was a good idea to do what he said. There were some hills you just can't die on, and in this case, it was literal. It wasn't worth it to stick around, since he made a clear ultimatum. Fire was good, so was food. It was a nice place to stay, but safety was more important.
"Fine. I'll head out," she said, her voice still letting uneasiness seep through.
Emma reached down to grab her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Next was her sword. The entire time, she kept her eyes on Alessio. The gun was now pointed at her. That was only a sign that she needed to leave. There were safer spaces, ones without people.
For a moment, she stopped. A new thought passed through. Was it in any way right to just leave him? He was a killer, and one who would likely kill again. She could do something to make sure he didn't. If he killed again, would she be to blame? Maybe it was a sense of responsibility that remained. People were ripping each other apart, they were monsters. Every one of them. And here she was, still feeling responsible. But another old feeling came up, one that also didn't feel good. She tightly closed her eyes for a moment at the thought.
She couldn't do it.
Emma took a few more steps backwards, her focus still on Alessio. Could she? But she had to ask a question. She felt dumb asking. Not because it was a dumb question, but because her life was on the line right now.
"Oh before I go I have a question."
She hoped that this wouldn't be the last question she'd ask. It took some effort getting it out, but she did it.
"What's at the cafeteria?"
Some part of her doubted it was anything good. It could be a trick of some sort. And yet, stupid, stupid her had to ask.
A question. Emma had a question. The president had a question. It was a stupid question, so Alessio gave a stupid answer.
"In there is a safe zone. In the safe zone no one can be killed."
Absurd, but it was kinda true, in theory, when Raina, Lili, Penelope and Johnny executed that.
He put his gun back into his pocket, still suspiciously eying Emma.
"In there is a safe zone. In the safe zone no one can be killed."
Absurd, but it was kinda true, in theory, when Raina, Lili, Penelope and Johnny executed that.
He put his gun back into his pocket, still suspiciously eying Emma.
((Serena Waters continued from On the Run))
She had run out of the asylum a while ago, terror clear on her face and mind. This entire place was bad, but that buidling... there was something there clearly, ghosts or bad juju or whatever else, it couldn't be that she was losing her mind. No, there was clearly something bad that was going on there. Not her.
She had been forced to detour from her trip to the depot once again. People were on the bridge and her gun was in the bag. There was another thing on her mind though, she didn't want to deal with more people. After Aiden and Matt, she needed a break from it all. She hadn't slept in a day and she was covered in muddy water, blood splatter on her chest from her hand. She needed a place of solitude. Close to the asylum was the coves they had camped days ago. Good place. Calm place. Just where she needed to go.
On the way there she passed the tower. The jeep was gone and so was the sign of anything having happened there except one thing. The broken down mess on front that resembled Aiden. she contiuned her way to the coves. Wasn't safe out in the open anymore.
"Don't worry, he won't get away with it. None of them will." She repeated to herself on the way. A mantra of sorts to keep herself going.
But when she got there, she was dismayed to find someone already there. A girl sitting at the shore eating a bird. Probably got tired of eating the shitty rations they left them. For a second Serena thought of chasing her off, this place was hers, but then she got a closer look at the girl. It was Emma, she hadn't been on the announcements and if what Serena remembered right, was a nice girl. Should just leave her alone.
But then a boy approached her, someone she half hoped not to find for fear of what she would do. But there he was, pointing a gun at the girl like he was used to this by now. Murder and robbery. Thy name was Alessio Rigano.
She sat there and watched for a while, now that she had found him. There was a part of her that still believed the old Alessio was there, somewhere. She shook her head, did it matter if he was? How many was it till now, four, five? Would he stop unless forced to? She couldn't take the chance.
She got the gun out, her gun and made her way over the rocks and to them. "It's been a while Al." She yelled as her gun was pointed at him, finger on the trigger.
She had run out of the asylum a while ago, terror clear on her face and mind. This entire place was bad, but that buidling... there was something there clearly, ghosts or bad juju or whatever else, it couldn't be that she was losing her mind. No, there was clearly something bad that was going on there. Not her.
She had been forced to detour from her trip to the depot once again. People were on the bridge and her gun was in the bag. There was another thing on her mind though, she didn't want to deal with more people. After Aiden and Matt, she needed a break from it all. She hadn't slept in a day and she was covered in muddy water, blood splatter on her chest from her hand. She needed a place of solitude. Close to the asylum was the coves they had camped days ago. Good place. Calm place. Just where she needed to go.
On the way there she passed the tower. The jeep was gone and so was the sign of anything having happened there except one thing. The broken down mess on front that resembled Aiden. she contiuned her way to the coves. Wasn't safe out in the open anymore.
"Don't worry, he won't get away with it. None of them will." She repeated to herself on the way. A mantra of sorts to keep herself going.
But when she got there, she was dismayed to find someone already there. A girl sitting at the shore eating a bird. Probably got tired of eating the shitty rations they left them. For a second Serena thought of chasing her off, this place was hers, but then she got a closer look at the girl. It was Emma, she hadn't been on the announcements and if what Serena remembered right, was a nice girl. Should just leave her alone.
But then a boy approached her, someone she half hoped not to find for fear of what she would do. But there he was, pointing a gun at the girl like he was used to this by now. Murder and robbery. Thy name was Alessio Rigano.
She sat there and watched for a while, now that she had found him. There was a part of her that still believed the old Alessio was there, somewhere. She shook her head, did it matter if he was? How many was it till now, four, five? Would he stop unless forced to? She couldn't take the chance.
She got the gun out, her gun and made her way over the rocks and to them. "It's been a while Al." She yelled as her gun was pointed at him, finger on the trigger.
(Adopted from Dannyrulx)
((Matt Moradi continued from somewhere else.))
Matt walked north, without any particular location in mind. Just out of the danger. Away from somewhere that could cause his head to explode. He held the shotgun he had stolen from Aiden in his hands. He admired it. Fired just once. It was a work of art in its own special way, crafted by some unseen gunsmith whose face he would never see, who he would never have the chance to thank for gifting to him this wonderful thing.
He walked by the bell tower, admiring it. It was beautiful. He looked up to the sun and idly wondered about the guilt of whoever it is that made this gun. Where did he start and where did it end? Should the maker of the gun be blamed? The company? The designer, the miners who mined the material that later formed into this perfect tool? He was guilty, certainly, if he chose to fire it.
He happened to stumble upon three people. Two he recognized one he didn't. Serena with her back turned and Alessio. Alessio who he remembered had killed Henry Spencer. So long ago, he thought. Only a few days but a few days was all it took for Henry to begin decomposing. Soon nothing would be left of him and Henry Spencer would be a memory, one eventually judged unworthy of being passed on as his family members died. And then there would be no Henry Spencer.
Creeping forward, trying not to make a sound. He raised the gun to meet Serena's back as soon as she came within sight. She was pointing something a gun no doubt at Alessio, probably with the intent to kill him. He hoped that Alessio would appreciate this and consider him some savior.
"Hey," he said.
Matt walked north, without any particular location in mind. Just out of the danger. Away from somewhere that could cause his head to explode. He held the shotgun he had stolen from Aiden in his hands. He admired it. Fired just once. It was a work of art in its own special way, crafted by some unseen gunsmith whose face he would never see, who he would never have the chance to thank for gifting to him this wonderful thing.
He walked by the bell tower, admiring it. It was beautiful. He looked up to the sun and idly wondered about the guilt of whoever it is that made this gun. Where did he start and where did it end? Should the maker of the gun be blamed? The company? The designer, the miners who mined the material that later formed into this perfect tool? He was guilty, certainly, if he chose to fire it.
He happened to stumble upon three people. Two he recognized one he didn't. Serena with her back turned and Alessio. Alessio who he remembered had killed Henry Spencer. So long ago, he thought. Only a few days but a few days was all it took for Henry to begin decomposing. Soon nothing would be left of him and Henry Spencer would be a memory, one eventually judged unworthy of being passed on as his family members died. And then there would be no Henry Spencer.
Creeping forward, trying not to make a sound. He raised the gun to meet Serena's back as soon as she came within sight. She was pointing something a gun no doubt at Alessio, probably with the intent to kill him. He hoped that Alessio would appreciate this and consider him some savior.
"Hey," he said.
"Well
then."
Ask a risky question, get a sarcastic answer. Emma still doubted Alessio was even being truthful. There had to be something at the cafeteria for him to tell her to go there, but what, she didn't know. It had to have been a trick of some kind. A trap, maybe? Who knew? Regardless of his reasoning, it wasn't safe to stick around, and it probably wasn't to go to the cafeteria.
The smell of cooked seagull meat still hovered in the air, like a strong perfume with an odd scent. For a moment, Emma wasn't sure if it was worth it to take the bird with her. It was obviously cooking, but it might not have been a good idea to take the time to pull a greasy, hot object away from the fire while a killer was right nearby.
Something, someone else pressed the issue. Emma heard footsteps in sand a second time, and, before she knew it, Serena Waters had shown up with a gun of her own. Wasn't she a killer, too? She killed someone with a jeep, of all things. Well, this just kept getting better, she guessed. Even if she weren't, she had that gun pointed at Alessio.
Emma took another step backwards, hoping to get away from whatever was going to happen with Serena and Alessio. And, like magic, a third person had shown up. Emma knew who Matt Moradi was. He was kind of this abrasive person who played tabletop games. And, he was also a killer with a gun. Maybe all the fire and smoke attracted them. She wasn't sure.
One more deep breath. She could still smell the bird cooking. Another step backwards. Her eyes darted between Alessio, then Serena, then Matt, then the seagull, then back to Alessio. Once again, without realizing it, her sword, as heavy as it was, had been slightly raised.
"Right I'm I think I'm leaving."
She still tried to make herself appear confident. Her face needed to be serious, her posture needed to be as straight as she could make it. Still vulnerable, but it was good to try not to give that impression. After all, they had guns, she had a sword. Might make things a little trickier.
A few more steps backwards. She knew it was common sense to turn the other way, to run far away from them as possible and to find somewhere to hide. And yet, she kept stepping backwards, away from them and the fire.
Ask a risky question, get a sarcastic answer. Emma still doubted Alessio was even being truthful. There had to be something at the cafeteria for him to tell her to go there, but what, she didn't know. It had to have been a trick of some kind. A trap, maybe? Who knew? Regardless of his reasoning, it wasn't safe to stick around, and it probably wasn't to go to the cafeteria.
The smell of cooked seagull meat still hovered in the air, like a strong perfume with an odd scent. For a moment, Emma wasn't sure if it was worth it to take the bird with her. It was obviously cooking, but it might not have been a good idea to take the time to pull a greasy, hot object away from the fire while a killer was right nearby.
Something, someone else pressed the issue. Emma heard footsteps in sand a second time, and, before she knew it, Serena Waters had shown up with a gun of her own. Wasn't she a killer, too? She killed someone with a jeep, of all things. Well, this just kept getting better, she guessed. Even if she weren't, she had that gun pointed at Alessio.
Emma took another step backwards, hoping to get away from whatever was going to happen with Serena and Alessio. And, like magic, a third person had shown up. Emma knew who Matt Moradi was. He was kind of this abrasive person who played tabletop games. And, he was also a killer with a gun. Maybe all the fire and smoke attracted them. She wasn't sure.
One more deep breath. She could still smell the bird cooking. Another step backwards. Her eyes darted between Alessio, then Serena, then Matt, then the seagull, then back to Alessio. Once again, without realizing it, her sword, as heavy as it was, had been slightly raised.
"Right I'm I think I'm leaving."
She still tried to make herself appear confident. Her face needed to be serious, her posture needed to be as straight as she could make it. Still vulnerable, but it was good to try not to give that impression. After all, they had guns, she had a sword. Might make things a little trickier.
A few more steps backwards. She knew it was common sense to turn the other way, to run far away from them as possible and to find somewhere to hide. And yet, she kept stepping backwards, away from them and the fire.
It was funny how many times someone saviored him. Audrey, Alvaro, and now, Matt. Though he was not sure how friendly Matt was. But currently it lets him live, which was enough.
Alessio did not need to say a word to Serena. The 'Hey' of Matt explained everything. Serena pointed the gun at him, Matt pointed the gun at Serena and Al had his gun in his pocket.
What about Mr. Pink? Mr. Pink wanted to leave. Leave the three killers alone.
"See you."
Alessio did not need to say a word to Serena. The 'Hey' of Matt explained everything. Serena pointed the gun at him, Matt pointed the gun at Serena and Al had his gun in his pocket.
What about Mr. Pink? Mr. Pink wanted to leave. Leave the three killers alone.
"See you."
She finally found him, after days of search and hearing of his crimes, she had him at her mercy. He didn't look good, far from it. Probably worse than she did. fitting considering he's a horrible murderer who deserved to die. She kept her eyes locked on him. She wanted answers, and they'd beter be good ones.
"What the hell's wrong with you Al? Did you run out on me so you could kill off our classmates? Cause that's all I've heard you been doing." How long ago was it that she dragged him up from his pathetic state and got him going? day 1 was it? Felt like an eternity ago, she would have to do what she couldn't do when she had that chance the first day. She helped him up and let him walk away, their blood was on her hands as much as his.
She felt a soft push on her back, she knew what it was. She could see it on Al's expression. Lucky bastard. She kept the gun pointed at him, not moving an inch. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting the stupid fuck behind her. Of course it was Matt.
"Not enough with just killing Aiden for ya? Come back to finish the job on the rest of us who saved you?" Her eyes narrowed at the ungratefull prick, if she had our way Matt would be dead with a couple hundreds bullets plugged into him. Seeing him again so soon made her blood boil, more than Alessio ever could. "Do you realise how many he's killed? Five people, and you're just fine with that, aren't you?" She turned back and looked at him, it was like she was seeing red right now. It felt like that when she got mad. "How many more have to die before you're satisfied? Till the number reaches double digits and you're armed to teeth?"
"What the hell's wrong with you Al? Did you run out on me so you could kill off our classmates? Cause that's all I've heard you been doing." How long ago was it that she dragged him up from his pathetic state and got him going? day 1 was it? Felt like an eternity ago, she would have to do what she couldn't do when she had that chance the first day. She helped him up and let him walk away, their blood was on her hands as much as his.
She felt a soft push on her back, she knew what it was. She could see it on Al's expression. Lucky bastard. She kept the gun pointed at him, not moving an inch. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting the stupid fuck behind her. Of course it was Matt.
"Not enough with just killing Aiden for ya? Come back to finish the job on the rest of us who saved you?" Her eyes narrowed at the ungratefull prick, if she had our way Matt would be dead with a couple hundreds bullets plugged into him. Seeing him again so soon made her blood boil, more than Alessio ever could. "Do you realise how many he's killed? Five people, and you're just fine with that, aren't you?" She turned back and looked at him, it was like she was seeing red right now. It felt like that when she got mad. "How many more have to die before you're satisfied? Till the number reaches double digits and you're armed to teeth?"
The girl Matt didn't know was leaving and he didn't particularly blame her. She must have been feeling left out, considering she was the only one who didn't have a gun. Alessio was probably waiting to pull what Matt assumed was a gun out. Maybe shoot Serena and then him. Two for one special. He couldn't really figure out why he had come here. He didn't feel much like gloating to Serena. He didn't really have much of an opinion on Aiden - regrettable death. That was it. Serena seemed to be taking it personally. That was funny to him and he cracked a little smile.
"You're taking this a little too personally, I think, Serena.. we're playing a game." Slowly, he started to back away. He'd let Alessio shoot Serena, if he felt like it. He'd provided enough of a distraction for him.
"Sorry I killed Aiden," he said, lying. "And I don't really care how many people Alessio's killed.. why should I? Why should you? You're taking all of this personally, like you're the only one who got kidnapped. So stop thinking all of this is a personal attack on you. It's egocentric."
Having the gun made him feel confident. Just one pull. Who gave her a gun, he thought. Danya, maybe. Et tu, Brutus? Whatever. It was a competition. Wouldn't be fair if he was the only one with an equalizer.
"You're taking this a little too personally, I think, Serena.. we're playing a game." Slowly, he started to back away. He'd let Alessio shoot Serena, if he felt like it. He'd provided enough of a distraction for him.
"Sorry I killed Aiden," he said, lying. "And I don't really care how many people Alessio's killed.. why should I? Why should you? You're taking all of this personally, like you're the only one who got kidnapped. So stop thinking all of this is a personal attack on you. It's egocentric."
Having the gun made him feel confident. Just one pull. Who gave her a gun, he thought. Danya, maybe. Et tu, Brutus? Whatever. It was a competition. Wouldn't be fair if he was the only one with an equalizer.
They weren't really paying attention to her.
Alessio just muttered a token "see you." Serena, however just went on this rant. Apparently Alessio had been with her before he started killing? Apparently, she saw Aiden (Slattery?) die? Emma didn't know. Then Matt kind of put out this insincere apology, and went on to go on a rant of his own, about how Serena wasn't the only one abducted or something. It didn't help that he was smiling.
For another moment, Emma's eyes darted between the three again. Then, she took a hesitant step forward. She knew what she could do intuitively. She could defuse whatever was going on, make sure it de-escalates. De-escalation wasn't that difficult, was it? Hear all sides out, try not to judge, offer alternatives if possible.
But she didn't take another step forward. She did try to open her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she closed it. Emma took another moment to look at the three killers. Serena had the gun on Alessio, Matt had the gun on her.
Another deep breath.
"Whatever happens, happens," she whispered to herself.
It wasn't worth it. They were going to argue and fight and kill each other no matter what. It didn't matter if Emma was here or not. Was it? She didn't know about that either. Just that she might do what she said after all. It was probably best if she wanted to continue life without a bullet wound.
She turned around, and started walking away. For a moment, she looked back. Still arguing, still pointing guns.
Then she looked forward, and stepped away. The smell of burnt wood and cooked bird hung in the air as she walked along the cove, only to slowly fade away.
((Emma Luz continued in Late to the Party))
Alessio just muttered a token "see you." Serena, however just went on this rant. Apparently Alessio had been with her before he started killing? Apparently, she saw Aiden (Slattery?) die? Emma didn't know. Then Matt kind of put out this insincere apology, and went on to go on a rant of his own, about how Serena wasn't the only one abducted or something. It didn't help that he was smiling.
For another moment, Emma's eyes darted between the three again. Then, she took a hesitant step forward. She knew what she could do intuitively. She could defuse whatever was going on, make sure it de-escalates. De-escalation wasn't that difficult, was it? Hear all sides out, try not to judge, offer alternatives if possible.
But she didn't take another step forward. She did try to open her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she closed it. Emma took another moment to look at the three killers. Serena had the gun on Alessio, Matt had the gun on her.
Another deep breath.
"Whatever happens, happens," she whispered to herself.
It wasn't worth it. They were going to argue and fight and kill each other no matter what. It didn't matter if Emma was here or not. Was it? She didn't know about that either. Just that she might do what she said after all. It was probably best if she wanted to continue life without a bullet wound.
She turned around, and started walking away. For a moment, she looked back. Still arguing, still pointing guns.
Then she looked forward, and stepped away. The smell of burnt wood and cooked bird hung in the air as she walked along the cove, only to slowly fade away.
((Emma Luz continued in Late to the Party))
"Thank you, Matt. That's what my thoughts are, exactly."
Serena was getting inappropiately emotional in this situation. But who was he to judge?
Either way, Matt being on his side felt good. Serena pointing her gun at him was not good at all, though.
"Serena, I didn't do shit." A lie. "You have no idea what it's like. Just leave me alone. Why would you trust the man who abducted us with his words more than me, your friend?"
Al's voice was getting unstable. He then began to look at Matt.
"Please, Matt, help me."
Al closed his eyes, afraid of getting shot by Serena, Matt or both. Pulled out his gun and threw it at Matt's feet. He could hear the gun falling into the sand, then he opened his eyes again and was still alive. Then he quickly grabbed some sand and threw it at Serena. Then he added a punch to her face.
Serena was getting inappropiately emotional in this situation. But who was he to judge?
Either way, Matt being on his side felt good. Serena pointing her gun at him was not good at all, though.
"Serena, I didn't do shit." A lie. "You have no idea what it's like. Just leave me alone. Why would you trust the man who abducted us with his words more than me, your friend?"
Al's voice was getting unstable. He then began to look at Matt.
"Please, Matt, help me."
Al closed his eyes, afraid of getting shot by Serena, Matt or both. Pulled out his gun and threw it at Matt's feet. He could hear the gun falling into the sand, then he opened his eyes again and was still alive. Then he quickly grabbed some sand and threw it at Serena. Then he added a punch to her face.