Wendigo

[BetaKnight]

((G010 - Iselle Ovalle-Vandermeer start))

Iselle crouched down in her familiar catcher's squat under one of the few trees in the area, her issued "weapon" balanced across her thighs.  She absently rolled the walking stick with her palm, the motion soothing her damaged sense of calm and equilibrium. She was actually quite fond of this weapon.  It had the heft and feel of a good bat, although longer than what she was used to.   Iselle was confident that she could adjust to the extra length easily enough.

The shade of the trees provided enough coverage for her purposes at the moment.  She would wait a while longer and see if any of the other softball girls showed up.  Besides, it was kind of pretty here.

[Latin For Dragula]

((Garrett Wilde Continued From Rome is Burning))

These woods were deceptively beautiful. They were the sort of place that Garrett and his father could have spent hours in back home, making idle observations about the flora and fauna and dreaming up increasingly bizarre back-stories for their fellow travelers. The surreal, pristine nature of the setting would have encouraged their playful banter. Garrett tried to draw on that mirth to bolster his facade of control. He wore his vaguely contented nature like a suit of armor, protecting him from prying eyes. After all, a scared individual would look like prey. An angry individual would look like a predator. A happy individual, though? Perhaps the absurdity of it in their current setting would be enough to pique the curiosity of the more skittish students.

He strolled into the magnificent clearing and sat down, looking back over the hill he'd just climbed with satisfaction. Little victories, Garrett. Treasure them while they last. He casually eyed the bag he'd found when he woke up. He hadn't opened it yet, but he suspected it would be useful. He opened it up to inspect the scattered contents, making a brief inventory of more useful objects such as a map, water, some sort of pamphlet on survival, a compass, and...a yo-yo?

He held the small object in his hand for a few moments before realizing what he'd found. A deep, throaty laugh escaped from his chest as the morbid humor of the situation engulfed him. He hadn't planned on playing this game in the first place, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't. How could you murder someone with a Yo-Yo? Bludgeoning? Strangulation? The toy would surely break long before a skull or a wind-pipe would.

As he collected himself, he noticed a small detail he'd missed upon entering the clearing: A girl sitting under one of the trees. There was no way she'd missed his mad display. In for the penny, in for the pound, I suppose. He grinned at her and waved.

"Hello there! It seems I've drawn the short end of the stick," he said, gesturing towards the Yo-Yo in his hand. He noticed her long walking stick and suppressed a wince. "I can see the same can't be said for you."

[umop-ap!sdn*]

((Joey Caputo continued from Always Gold))

Time was ticking and shit was going down everywhere. Joey had been exposed to very little of it, but he'd at least seen the aftermath of... something jarring. He the cause of Theo's uneasiness, he knew nothing.

Kids could be dead somewhere, kids could be killing somewhere, kids might even be getting rescued! He really had no clue. The woods, despite their horror movie stigma, were actually very aesthetic, especially compared to the parking structure he'd come from. There weren't enough tree's to cast too much shadow, but there was enough plant life around to feel natural.

He remembered the first time he and his cousin smoked in the woods. It was a change in pace from hot boxing a car or his cousin's porch, and very green. Flicking the dead joint had even scared him into thinking he'd cause a forest fire. Joey could really use a jay right now. Something to calm him down and help him think would be perfect. Then again, he may end up bugging out thinking somebody was going to attack him. Plus, the game was televised, could he get into some kind of trouble for smoking pot on some uncharted island?

It didn't really matter much. He had not much time to live, and even less bud on him. All he had now was a knife, and some food. No hope, no clue, no drugs. He kicked a rock and heard a call from not too far away.

Looking up, he saw a kid from school, Garret. He wasn't looking in Joey's direction. Joey quickly unzipped his bag and dropped Kiki in. There was no need to approach a kid holding a yoyo with a knife drawn. He did so and quickly looked up in the direction Garret was calling towards, a silhouette crouched in the shadow of a tree.

Joey called out, it was better to make his presence known than to be mistaken for an assassin.

"Dude, is that a yoyo?"

[BetaKnight]

Iselle watched as the two boys entered the clearing and fought the urge to roll her eyes.  Garrett probably thought he was smart, making his crack about her stick.  And hot on his heels was Captain Obvious himself, Joey.  She huffed in irritation but didn't comment.  Really, there wasn't a lot she could say that wouldn't be unduly confrontational at this point.

‘Gee, Joey!  Good eye!  That is, indeed, a yo-yo in his hands!'  She shook her head discreetly.  Topical but less than productive.

While neither of the guys appeared to be hostile, she was feeling distinctly outnumbered.  ‘What I wouldn't give for Alda, Kathryn, or Andi right now.'  It seemed like the luckiest person right now was Susan, although at the time, Iselle never would have considered it lucky to miss out on the Senior Trip.

"Guess that goes to show me, doesn't it," she said in a low tone.  While throwing from a crouch wasn't anything new to her, batting from a crouch seemed like a terrible idea.  Iselle slowly unfurled from her squat, planting her stick like a staff and leaning on it.  

"What are you two doing?"

[Latin For Dragula]

A voice called out from the bottom of the hill. Garrett glanced down, not too concerned that the girl under the tree would try anything while he was distracted. He was about to reply when she cut him off in a tone that could be charitably described as annoyed. That wasn't a good sign, anything that set tempers on an edge was less than desirable. Still, better an annoyed woman with a stick than a hostile one with a gun. Speaking of which...

"Oh, nothing much. Just avoiding a gun-toting bandit and a jock who seems to think he's Spartacus. I assume that makes for a fairly average afternoon in a competition to the death." He nodded towards the looming reactor. "I'd avoid that area if neither sounds particularly appealing, though."

[umop-ap!sdn*]

The figure under the tree stood, revealing herself to be a curvy, slightly thick girl. Joey couldn't decide on hot or not, he'd need to see the face more clearly before coming to a solid rating.

Joey followed Garret's nod, surprised.

"Dude, I just came from over there, what the hell are you talking about? Are people losing it??" The gun kid was without a doubt Theo. Seems he'd been up to something sketchy, the question was what and when? Had Joey seen him before or after the incident? He sure as hell was glad he'd scared the kid off, even if it was accidentally.

"I saw Theo Fletcher with a gun, and he was acting weird. I didn't see nothin' too interesting though, but I guess that's not a bad thing."

Garret's day had apparently been more exciting. Joey wanted all the details: who was armed, who was dangerous... who was hurt...... who was dead.

Maybe he didn't want all the details, but he sure as hell needed them. He needed a plan of survival too, he was strong and he had a weapon better than a staff and a yoyo put together, but without a plan it was all useless. He couldn't come up with a plan. He knew it, his family knew it, and probably most of the school knew it. He didn't want to play this game, hell, nobody in the right mind wanted to play this game. But as he found the holes in his various plans, his other options slowly depleted. His most reliable strategy was to find somebody who had or could come up with a better plan.

"Either of you guys know what you're gonna do yet?"

[BetaKnight]

Iselle glanced over in the direction the guys indicated and tried to process what they were saying.  'Great.  Our classmates have taken the first available opportunities to go absolutely batshit.  That makes me feel safe. Good to know I went to school with psychopaths.'  She squeezed her stick as hard as she could, taking comfort in the inherent strength in the wood.  It wasn't a a gun, but in the right hands, it would be enough.  She would ensure it would be enough.

Garrett seemed less annoying now, but Braintrust Joey was on a roll.  'What's my plan?  Seriously?'  Unable to stop herself, Iselle rolled her eyes.  Planting her free hand on her hips, she glared at Joey. "I think...."  She drew out the silence, tapping her index finger on her chin as if thinking.  "I think my plan is going to be don't die.  What do you think, Garrett? That sound good to you?"

What the hell kind of answer did Joey expect?  For her to twirl an invisible mustache and turn into a Bond villain, outlining her plan to wipe out her classmates?  Her friends?  Or even better, to make a radio out of a coconut?  "What kind of Gilligan's Island bullshit are you looking to pull off, Joey?"

[Latin For Dragula]

Garrett couldn't take it anymore. Calm was a serviceable emotion, but it would no longer due. He needed something more honest and primal. He began to let his latent anger a little bit further out on its leash.

"That's enough. Both of you." His tone was sharp and clipped. There was no mirth in his eyes. His characteristic grin was gone. "This is exactly what they want. Panic, survivalism," he said, eying the boy on the hill, "Cynicism, and anger," he finished, turning his gaze back to the woman with the stick. "Guess where I've seen that lead this morning? I watched some young woman hold Tyler hostage and demand his supplies. Then I watched him fly at her like he was going to beat her to death with his bare hands. They might be dead now, because they both decided to start playing in their own way."

He idly rolled the yo-yo from hand to hand before clenching it in his fist. "You know what sounds like a good plan? Waiting. Refusing to be a part of their game. That only ends two ways: Either the military finds us, and I can't stress the ludicrously high probability of that enough, or..." He jerked a finger towards the collar around his neck. "They have to pull the trigger themselves instead of sending panicked teenagers to do their dirty work. I feel like that's a fairly safe bet, given that they'll never, ever follow through on the threat to kill all of us."

[umop-ap!sdn*]

But I didn't do anything... Joey frowned at being scolded.

Still, Garret was right. chances of escape were slim, but they were present nonetheless. Joey needed to stay alive until the government was able to locate them. In twenty four hours, their collars would explode. Of course, unless somebody died. Then they would have an additional twenty four from that point on. Joey wasn't killing anybody, but ever death bought them more time to live. Every hour alive was  3600 seconds the government was looking for them, they could wait it out.

That said, he wasn't so sure the collars were a bluff. They were wrapped around the students' necks and they were terrible. Terrorists were named as such for a reason. Even if the collars were an empty threat, they had scared kids into becoming murderers before.

Still, every murder meant another day of avoiding the terrorists' hypothetical wrath. If the deaths were few and spaced out enough, the government would have plenty of time, right?

He scratched the back of his head, his feelings still smarted from Iselle's outburst and Garret's impatience.

He wasn't prepared to die, but he also wasn't prepared to kill. Hell, indecision had always been the easiest decision. He could wait a few hours. If rescue came, they were saved. If it didn't, maybe somebody would give up their life to buy the class more time.

"I'm down for waiting."

[BetaKnight]

"Fuck off.  You're not my mom so don't tell me what to do," Iselle reflexively barked at Garrett.  She wasn't about to be taken to task like some wandering puppy by either of these people.  Especially over other people's actions. It wasn't as if she'd been running around, scaring people and acting like a moron, so Garrett could take his patronizing advice and shove it up his ass.  That was assuming there was enough room for it to fit since his head was obviously up there too.  

Yes, she was incredibly pissed off right now.  But that seemed like a pretty normal response to getting kidnapped and watching your teacher get his brains blown out.  Not to mention being expected to kill people that you spent a good chunk of your life around.  Anger was productive, especially if it was kept leashed.  

"I'm not one of the freaks you've obviously encountered so far today, so don't project their fucked up behavior onto me. I've done nothing to you whatsoever, threatening or otherwise."

'But if I really wanted to, I could take your fucking head off with this stick,' she silently seethed.  Iselle took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled. "So I'd really appreciate it if you watched your fucking tone with me, Garrett."

[Latin For Dragula]

He'd lost patience for these ridiculous, posturing shenanigans. He stared up at her with unwavering certainty, and though his voiced never raised above conversational levels, there was an acidic tinge to them that accurately conveyed his contempt.

"The last person to take that tone with me probably beat a woman to death less than an hour ago. You want to follow his lead? Fine. Bash my brains in now, because I'm done with this circus. Remember though..." His eyes shifted to the glade around them, certainly brimming with cameras. "The world is watching. If you want the last image everyone gets of you to be a furious, short-sighted, and ultimately impotent child spewing condemnation and contempt while proving that she's in no place to talk, that's your decision." He sprung to his feet with surprising speed and stood inches from her face. "If that doesn't sound appealing, though? Back. The fuck. Up. Your twig doesn't scare me, Iselle. I'm probably going to die here one way or the other, and head trauma sounds like a good a way to go as any. That threat lost its teeth the second I had a gun aimed in my face."

[umop-ap!sdn*]

Iselle! That was who she was! Not that it really mattered, right now she was just "Grumpy Bitch" in Joey's mind. It was strange, her claiming not to be a threatening freak and then expressing a desire to knock Garret's head off his shoulders.

Joey unzipped his bag slowly, the way Iselle was holding her stick made him anxious. Especially with what seemed to be building rage. It was petty to be so particular about people's tones of voices in a fight to the death. Nobody was attacking here, wasn't that manners enough? He slipped his hand into his bag, which was slung from his shoulder, and slowly felt around for Kiki's solid handle.

Garret was at least staying calm. Maybe in a solemn, kind of freaky way, but he was together. He was like a Yoda of Survival of the Fittest. Cool, collected, and Joey could probably make a pun out if it and his assigned weapon.

WAIT.

"Somebody got killed?! When??" He looked to Garret, the normal expression of content indifference replaced by one of shock, regret, and a hint of relief he hadn't been the first. They had twenty four hours from that time of death before somebody, or everybody, had to die.

"Who? 'N by who??"

[BetaKnight]

Iselle's eyes widened as Garrett surged up into her face.  Although she was caught off-guard by his invasion of her space, this was a situation she was familiar with thanks to years and years of aggressively shit-talking while catching.  Planting her feet, she released her grip on her stick to free up both hands. Without a moment's hesitation, she planted both hands on Garrett's chest and pushed as hard as she could.

"Get out of my face," she roared, knowing that to back down or show weakness would invite more action on his part. Using the momentum of her action, she also took a large step back, increasing the divide between them.  The more room she had to swing, the better.  She was already outnumbered in this scenario.

Panting, her eyes flicked between Garrett or Joey.  Despite having never said anything threatening or even making any overtly aggressive moves until now, somehow, she kept getting accused of trying to attack them.  Maybe that's what Garrett's plan was all along, since he was so hung up on what their invisible audience would think or say.  Maybe he was trying to goad her into doing something.

Her palms started to sweat, becoming sticky and clammy.  She already missed the comforting mass of the stick.  She missed the feeling of safety that came from being with a group she could trust.

"Maybe the reason you're so sure people are dead already is because you did it,"  she pointed out as she finally glanced down to locate her stick.  "That's why you're so twitchy and sure people are trying to kill you.  That's why you keep insisting I've done or said something to you. There's something wrong with you."  

She shook her head with a sharp gesture. With a controlled lunge, she grabbed the stick and slid her hands into a familiar batting position.  The stick was too long and slightly unwieldy, but it was better than nothing. "Go ahead, Garrett.  Tell Joey who you've already killed."

[Latin For Dragula]

The shove was a quick, but not unexpected. Even so, he barely had time to catch his footing before he went over. He kept his stare as he found balance once again, though a slightly amused curve crept into the line of his mouth.

"Yes. I killed someone. How ever did you guess? Was it the pristine clothes that show no signs of struggle, let alone the copious amounts of blood I've assuredly shed? Perhaps it's the complete lack of physical fatigue, that's a good sign that I managed to murder someone twice my size. Or is it the most damning evidence of all, my yo-yo, a weapon known only to the most skilled assassins? Do you even listen to yourself, or are you afraid that if you stop spewing this posturing, dramatic haze for one second reality will catch up and you'll realize you're just as helpless as the rest of us?"

He shook his head and turned his attention back to Joey. "To answer your question, Tyler Lucas and an unidentified girl. I couldn't see her from the room I was in. She threatened him with a gun, he threw his bag at her and charged, and I ran like hell because apparently I had the market cornered on functioning brain cells in that particular hallway."

A sharp sigh escaped his lips. It was getting to him already. That dehumanization was so tempting, but it wasn't useful. It only made playing feel like a better option. "That was uncalled for. They're not stupid, and they're not monsters. They're just afraid. Iselle, I apologize for snapping. You're not like them."

Yet.

[watcher in night*]

((Meera Stele continued from: Just Another Game))

After another half hour, Meera had reached the top of a small hill which led into a clearing. She still hadn't seen any people, nor any sign that anyone had passed through this area. The past hours she'd spent alone in the woods, with only her thoughts for company, had given her time to gain some facade of control over her emotions in this grim situation. She had to stay alive, and for now, that was all. Anything more would just get in the way.

The trees were beginning to thin out, though they were no less gorgeous then they'd been below, on the hillside. Meera had seen the peak from below, and guessed it would provide a decent view of the island's locations. She needed as much knowledge as she could get about her surroundings right now, and it was a preferable alternative to wandering about in the woodlands aimlessly.

As she approached the summit of the peak, Meera heard voices. They were startlingly close, not ten feet away. Stepping beneath the shelter of one of the trees that were just outside the clearing, Meera saw a girl she recognized immediately, Iselle. They didn't know one another well, but she seemed decent enough, back at Aurora. While she couldn't name the two guys with Iselle immediately, they were both familiar faces.

"That was uncalled for. They're not stupid, and they're not monsters. They're just afraid. Iselle, I apologize for snapping. You're not like them," said one of the guys, the one with the grey eyes and dark hair.

Torn between entering the clearing and hanging back, Meera bit her lip, thinking it over.