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December's Inactivity List
I agree, it's not fair for those of us who can post to be brought down by people who're either too busy or can't be assed.

Random LazPoll #4
That would be more of a WEAPON than a shaving razor, and too hard to make to be worth it.

Random LazPoll #4
In a sense, but I have already answered your question.

Random LazPoll #4
Since it's text, I'm reading it. :P

Random LazPoll #4
Impossible, you'd destroy the razor.

December-January Announcement
Sounds like a good idea, especially since almost nobody is showing up and the site's all but dead.

Random LazPoll #4
There is no such thing as a 42-bladed shaving razor.

Random LazPoll #4
Seeing as the question has something to do with shaving, 42 has nothing to do with it. No, I do not have a sense of humor.

Random LazPoll #4
Edit: Nevermind, it was kind of obvious when thinking about it, so I retract this statement.

Inactivity List
I'm still waiting for Mitsuko2 to post, so I can't really be active in the first place until that happens.

Little known facts about your characters, Part 2
Seth Mattlock (note that these are not character aspects that Bloody himself thought up, but ones I have devised in order to flesh him out and make him seem less like a Steve Hyde clone):
* He actually met my v1 character Antonio Franchini once before the v1 game (about three months) while the Don's son was getting some business experience by attending negotiations between the Franchinis and the mob family Seth's father belonged to. Antonio offended Seth by making derogatory comments towards the female members of his gang and, in no uncertain terms, insulted him for not being Italian (as the Franchini family was all Italian, while Seth's was not, causing Antonio to look down on them). The two left each other on hostile terms, but the negotiations went smoothly. This meant that, out of respect, Seth had to pretend to mourn Antonio's death along with the two families, which he barely pulled off.
* Even though he isn't stupid, he still trusts Bloody Fists member Richard Kingston, oblivious to the latter's plans to overthrow him.
* He is the only member of the mafia family his father is a member of that doesn't speak any Italian (Mr. Mattlock studies Italian, though), something that the mobsters often joke about.
* Though he likes to play guitar, it only applies to acoustic. By his own admission, he absolutely hates electric guitars, thinking they sound too screechy.
* He was actually taught how to play the guitar by a close friend of his father's, Alberto Fertelli (who gets very agitated when asked about his last name), a fellow mob enforcer.

Yeah, only have Seth trivia for now, sorry.

Stopping for the night (CONTENT WARNING!)
Outwardly, Walter seemed to show no sign of acknowledgement to Mariavel's weak punches to his chest as she cried with him on top of her, working to remove her jeans. In reality, hearing her sobs and feeling her struggle was just arousing him even more, he was just focusing on removing her pants before someone came to see what the screaming was about, as the noise probably carried out into the hallway with the door open (he had only realized he had forgotten to close the door when throwing Mariavel on the bed, but it was too late to go back). As he had managed to undo the zipper and button on the jeans, and was starting to peel them off (technically down, but it was the same thing) when he decided to briefly take care of another matter.

"I have no intention of doing that, and you have no fucking idea how much you're turning me on right now, Varella," he said at first, bringing his hand around to his pocket and pulling the knife back out after, disgustingly enough, lowering his head to her face and actually licking some of the tears and dirt off of her cheeks before quickly bringing the knife to her bra and slashing it (being careful not to cut her yet), tearing it off after doing that and exposing her breasts to the cameras in the room (it was dark, but Walter thought he saw at least two during the fight). If sex really sold, viewers at home were probably riveted to whatever channel was covering this particular part of the game. Regardless, he would raise the knife up so that it was right in front of one of her beautiful aquamarine eyes (he would not even bother to think about how tempting it was to plunge it into her eyeball) before continuing to speak, saying, "but I'll cut you a deal. Just take this like a nice little girl, and you won't go out like that Shirohara bitch in the last game. No, if you're lucky, you might not even feel a thing."

With that said, he used his left hand to lower her pants just a couple more inches, having still felt they were too high, and then used the thumb and forefinger of that hand to raise one of the strings on her panties, bringing the knife around and cutting the string with a quick movement of the wrist before putting it back in his pocket and repositioning himself slightly so that he was more evenly "distributed" so to speak over her, using his legs to spread hers so that once his pants were removed his genitalia would be over those of Mariavel and his arms were in position so that they could hold hers down, which he did after flipping the half-cut panties to the side like a page in a book, fully exposing Mariavel. Again smiling wickedly at her, and briefly making a mental note of the fact that her breasts were pushing against his sternum after he had lowered himself (meaning that he was low enough) earlier, he would suddenly bring his mouth down onto hers, forcing his tongue inside while fumbling to remove his pants. If she started to struggle during this stolen kiss, he would simply bring up his right hand from undoing his jeans and throw a punch under her ribs, where his knee kick had hit earlier. Repeatedly if necessary.

Regardless, he would eventually have his pants lowered enough to be satisfactory and would use his left hand to pull down his underwear, his own member coming out, still erect. Rising slightly and breaking the kiss so as to give himself room, he would return his arms to pinning the poor girl down and would go in. It initially hurt a slight amount, and if Mariavel bothered to look she would see a temporary grimace cross his features before returning to his normal face as he started to thrust. After the initial couple of seconds of pain, he was in absolute euphoria, knowing he had once again gotten what he wanted.

"Besides..." he muttered to her after about one minute and twelve seconds of this, speaking while thrusting, "what other...whore can bra...brag about having fucked a...politicia-" his words were interrupted while he was saying "politician" by a loud bang and a crack, followed by a surprised and pained grunt as a gash appeared on the top of his head. His eyes widening to look almost normal (as the eyes were mostly hazel in his own "normal" state), he wordlessly rolled off of both Mariavel and the bed, hitting the ground with a thud. If Mariavel looked, she would see her assaulter lying still on the floor, face down with a pool of blood starting to form around his head, the blood turning the front of his hair a reddish-brown shade. For all intents and purposes, he looked dead. Looking over to the door would find a man who would prove very familiar to Mariavel, though behind his aviator sunglasses he looked a bit flushed and he was breathing a bit heavily. Nevertheless, the figure was exactly as he looked like, right down to the clothing, the gold brown hair and the cigarette in his mouth. It was Seth Mattlock, leader of the Bloody Fists, and he was holding the Walther P38 that had just shot Walter Smith.

"Holy shit..." he muttered, walking towards the female gang member, a concerned look mixed with a glare behind his sunglasses.

"Hey, Mariavel, you alright?" he would ask, for once not slipping on the pronounciation of her first name as he tended to do.

Stopping for the night (CONTENT WARNING!)
Walter would feel his vision turn slightly hazy from the adrenaline rush caused by the fight, mixed with his mind being clouded with anger and lust at the same time, but it didn't really matter. After he had tried to grab her after his knee kick, she had done a rather impressive backflip maneuver, her foot grazing his chin and staggering him a bit. Typically, she had spat at him in response to his comments about certain natural human desires, but the saliva would fall short, barely touching his shirt. That was enough to piss him off though.

This...scum HARLOT dared to deface my shirt with her saliva?! I'll kill her! he found himself thinking, his glare deepening and his fists clenching as he moved forward. He hadn't expected the roundhouse kick, and it caught him on the side while his arm was raised for a punch, knocking him off balance for a second but not doing much damage that he could note. It did however infuriate him even more, serving as a sort of amplifier for the punch he landed, the feel of his fist hitting her right on the mouth satisfying and the sight of her blood even moreso, also serving to put him in an increased state of arousal. He had hit her hard, and it showed by her sprawling to the bed. She would state her reply while he was moving forward, answered by the exact same grin he had had before, looking a bit creepier now that his intentions were obvious. He would not have time to respond though, her quickly dashing forward (her speed was surprising given her figure, but he supposed being a gang member and cheerleader would require her to have some level of physical ability) and pulling out a knife he hadn't seen her with before, apparently going for his heel much like he had done with Jin.

He was determined not to let this fight end for him as it did for the Asian boy with foul breath. Instead, he dodged with a sidestep to the opposite direction of her knife arm (to the left if using her right again, to the right if she switched to her left) and moved behind her. That was where his superior reach, weight, and most likely strength would come in. Reaching out with his right hand, he grabbed a handful of Mariavel's long blonde hair and pulled backwards and to the right, letting go shortly after. This move was simple, unless the hair strands he was holding gave way for whatever reason, he would pull her back and throw her violently, landing her either on the floor at the foot of the bed or on it. There was no way of telling if the sudden force had made her drop her knife as well, so he would have to be careful, but if she landed on the floor and still had it he would step on the blade and use his other foot to aim a kick at her face, right below the eye so as to avoid knocking out any teeth (yet) or breaking the nose, but still being marginally painful. If this worked, he would grab her by the throat and physically toss her onto the bed, briefly placing his free hand on one of her breasts before pulling her up. With her on the bed he would quickly grab her again and reposition her so she was facing the way one normally would while lying on a bed instead of slung over it before also moving on the bed, moving to pin her down and throwing another punch towards the side of her head to discourage restistance before placing both hands at the opening on the halter top and tearing down, ripping it open and ignoring whether she had a bra on or not as he would start struggling to remove or at least lower her pants while holding her down. If she didn't have the knife he would skip to throwing her on the bed.

If she had been thrown on the bed and dropped the knife, he would not need to further complicate matters, simply going through the actions he would have if he had tossed her onto the bed. If she had kept the knife, he would use one of his knees to keep her knife hand down while attempting to forcibly disrobe her. In the event that she had escaped the throw entirely, he would be back at square one, and would need to think up a new strategy.

"Actually, Mariavel, that's exactly what you are, a slut plaything good for nothing but the amusement of superior individuals like myself!"

Stopping for the night (CONTENT WARNING!)
Unlike with Jin, Mariavel actually managed to catch Walter off guard with her assault, swinging her axe for his head the second he opened the door. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for her, his reflexes were faster than either Walter, Mariavel, or Jin gave him credit for. Thus, he was able to raise his left hand and grab Mariavel's attacking arm by the wrist, a split second before the axe would've cracked open the side of his head and killed him.

Too close.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, whore?" he growled at her.

It was immediately after he said this that Mariavel seemed to know who she had just tried to kill, saying his name in what might have been surprise. Grinning sadistically, he tightened his hold on her wrist and twisted to his left, putting his knife in his back pocket and getting a firm hold on her free arm as well, lifting it slightly. If this worked, not only would the pain elicit a verbal response from the girl (it was worth noting that he was in the perfect position, being much taller than her and standing very close, to look down her "shirt" if it could so be called, something he was doing with his peripheral vision) that would be music to the psychotic child's ears, but she would drop her axe, her grip loosened from the wristlock. Taking into account the fact that she would be for the most part unarmed (he could not see Mariavel's knife), in this instance he would take advantage of the opening he had created previously by slamming his right knee into Mariavel's side, right below the ribcage. If the kick had its desired effect, the pain would cause her head to move forward slightly as she bent over a bit*, something Walter would capitalise on by removing his grip from both of her arms and moving to grab the side of Mariavel's head in his left hand. If this attempt worked, he would slam her head against the wall and let go, only backing away for a second to send a right hook punch towards the (most likely dazed from the assault) girl's head, right between the eyes, hopefully knocking her down. If the grab didn't work, he would lower the arm and attack instead with a shoulder rush, which would have the same effect as if he had successfully slammed her head into the wall and punched her down, except for being less stunned. There was also the possibility of her dodging both such attacks, or any of the ones before hand (though dodging or completely defending against the knee was unlikely, Walter would admit it was possible). If she was slammed into the wall but avoided the punch or stayed standing after it, he would simply throw an identical left hook, aimed for her temple.

Regardless, the only major difference would be if Walter was glaring over at Mariavel or down at her, depending on whether she was standing or knocked over, when he continued his tirade against her, malicious thoughts running through his mind and an erection apparent if Mariavel bothered to look at his pants.

"You're in a game where you win by being the last one alive. Naturally, that means you want to avoid killers, maybe kill a few yourself," he said, walking forward a couple of steps regardless of her position, "Then you hear that a girl you've wanted to fuck all year is playing this game, and a few hours later she walks right past you. When you go to investigate, she attacks you with a god damned axe. How do you react? I know how I do."

Walter would not give her a chance to respond, immediately launching forward with either another kick to the ribs if she was down (aimed between the legs if she was moving, he had read somewhere that a kick there hurts a girl just as much as a boy) or another right hook aimed at her cheek and face if she was standing. It would've been easier to just pull out the knife and slash her to ribbons like Jin, but no, he wanted to have some "fun" with her while he had the chance. Besides, maybe all the fantasies of completely destroying the beautiful girl in front of him and having his way with her would go away if he actually did it.

OOC: *= I'm not trying to come across as controlling or forcing you into a situation here, just saying what will happen if you take those specific hits. It's up to you what hits her or doesn't. And I know this is short, my combat posts are usually shorter, and I'm tired.

Away
My computer is being an utter piece of shit right now, so I might be slow in posting due to the fucking shitbasket piece of fuck turning itself off every two seconds or so.

The Dice Rolls*
The irony of it all being that Seth was going to die in this topic, roll or no roll.

Stopping for the night (CONTENT WARNING!)
Walter would not be the first, per say, to admit it (seeing as even if anyone did ask him about such things, he'd ignore them), but he was not a heavy sleeper. Thus, when the booming symphonic music at the beginning of the game's first announcement played over the speakers all over the island, he found himself waking up with a jolt, looking around to see if anyone was in the room other than him and the corpse, quickly grabbing the knife he had taken from Jin the night before. To his relief, the voice following the end of the quick piece he had not figured out the name of proved that it was only an announcement. He knew the voice from the previous game.

Danya? I thought Wilson was running this one. he thought, shaking his head slightly and using the heel of his left palm to rub some sleep out of his left eye as the announcement continued. He was still tired, having just woken up, so Danya's voice sounded a bit out of focus to him, more distant than it would to a fully alert individual, but he still heard what was said as he placed the knife on the bed and slipped his blood-soaked (the blood now dry) black shirt back on, having taken it off before going to sleep last night. As the deaths were listed, he simply sat on the bed, listening attentively. He only recognized a few names, such as Greg Moyer (killed by Blake Ross. Walter hadn't expected Blake to be a killer, he must've been lucky to get away that time) Dan Birch (a dead student who had been in his homeroom, killed by Bryan Calvert), Bryan Calvert, himself, and Mariavel Varella (a killer, apparently). It was pretty funny, actually, the Bloody Fists had seemed kind of a joke in school, not the type of people Walter took all too seriously, but it seemed they were proving pretty dangerous in the pinch.

Just goes to show you can't underestimate anyone in this game, he thought, still listening to the announcement. He didn't "get a kick out of" Jameson Doeert's death as Danya predicted, but he cracked a small grin when Danya actually took a few seconds to commend Walter for his kill, saying that the other contestants should "take a page out of his book". If he were the type to do such a thing, he would've rolled his eyes.

"You flatter me, Danya, really." he would say instead, the pointed sarcasm in his voice painfully obvious as he looked to Jin's headless corpse, the look on his face spoiling what he'd say next, "That's right...I did kill him, didn't I?"

Oddly enough, the way he said this seemed to have a slight innocence to it as the memory returned to him, plunging the knife into the boy's face over and over, castrating him with a glass shard, even cutting off his head and urinating on him, almost as if for a second he hadn't believed that he had done the act. Of course, he knew perfectly well that he had done it, if it weren't for him acting on pure adrenaline to save his own life, then literally going berserk when the fight was won, he might've described it as kind of fun. Instead, he took out a pencil that was in his pack and the map and took note of the danger zones, marking the pagoda, the church and the school building (Walter had not known there even was a school building, but he hadn't known about the pagoda or church until the announcement, either, so it was a moot point) with a dark capital "D" (him putting extra force on the tip to make the writing bolder). Afterwards, he put the pencil back and reviewed the map, trying to decide where to go next. The hotel wasn't a danger zone yet, though, so staying and waiting the day out was still an option.

"I can wait," he finally decided, putting the map back as well and closing the bag after taking out a water bottle and drinking from it, again deciding against eating the food yet, he wasn't hungry.

"I'm still kind of tired anyway." he said to himself, placing the knife on the table again and lying back down, going to sleep again.

He would wake up a few hours later, feeling fully rested. Standing up and letting out a loud, satisfied yawn, he stepped around his bag and Jin's corpse and walked towards the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he turned on the sink, cold water, and started to splash it on his face. The coldness had its desired effect, shocking him into a fully-awake state. Now that he was no longer dead on his feet, to use a scum saying, he looked up at the mirror to see his face. Indeed, it was his face, right down to the dilated hazel eyes and greaser style (1960's subculture, not racial slur) hair. There was a slight mark on his neck from where Jin's knife had almost stabbed him, but otherwise he looked unharmed. The knife mark would go away in time, but Walter was disturbed by something else entirely.

There was a scum saying that his father had once posed to him, it usually went along the lines of "how can you look at yourself in a mirror?" or describing not being able to do so, implying that the person had done something so terrible that they shouldn't be able to bear even looking at themselves. However, Walter had no problem doing so, aside from the brief pang of remorse he'd experienced immediately after Jin's death, he felt nothing about it. All he saw in the mirror was someone with dilated pupils and long brown hair, along with a bloodstained shirt and jeans. He did not attach anything to that body that appeared in the glass other than the name Walter Smith. With a sigh, Walter took a nearby towel and started to dry off his face, walking out of the bathroom after throwing the towel to the side when he finished (the sink having been turned off earlier). Entering the main room, he looked around. Everything was, naturally, still there, though Jin was starting to stink the place up even more than when he was alive. Subconsciously pinching his nose shut with his left hand, he stepped around the corpse and picked up the bag in his right, slinging it over his shoulder before going around the bed and grabbing the knife off of the table and putting it in the back pocket of his jeans.

I might as well leave before more people show up.

With this thought in mind, he started to walk out, walking over Jin instead of around the former boy and opening the door. Watching one of Jin's eyeballs roll out of the door, him having accidentally kicked it, with an expression that was half bemused and half disgusted, he was about to turn around to go out the back door when he caught a flash of green clothes and blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. Drawing the knife and swiftly turning around before moving forward to see what it was, he saw a female in a tight halter top and jeans walking up the first flight of stairs and going into a room. For some reason that was beyond him, he was compelled to follow this young woman, stalking up the stairs as quietly as possible and trying to ignore the people who came in soon after, going inside after one freaked out at the sight of one of the corpses.

It's her...isn't it? he mentally asked himself, knowing who he was talking about. Mariavel, the girl on the announcements who he had had an odd obsession with for about a month, on and off occasionally before then. He had had several dreams of getting a chance like that which was currently presented to him, but now that it was time to act, he found himself hesitating, waiting at the wall outside the room the girl who may or may not be Mariavel Varella had gone into, the bag lying on the floor to his right and his back against the wall.

What if it isn't? was another thing that came to mind, the possibility he had mistaken two differnet females. Mariavel was not the only busty blonde high schooler in the Denton area, as apparently at least two schools from that area had been taken.

Who cares? What good's a game where you have to kill if you can't enjoy yourself once in a while? was the quick reply from his more animalistic side, if it were a literal conversation the voice would have a caustic snap. Nodding in conscession, he placed his hand on the door after checking to see if there was anyone around and his knife was secure, and opened the door, walking inside. Unless she had fallen asleep, the girl would probably notice him come in, but unless she was armed with a gun, something he doubted, he was willing to let the cards fall where they would.

Let's get this over with. finally a thought both sides of him agreed on.

The Weather Forecast
Which is pretty much what a tsunami is.

The Weather Forecast
The problem with a tsunami is that it'd probably kill all the kids. Maybe even some of the terrorists.

Are you a sociopath?
Not all intillectuals are sociopaths, and not all sociopaths are intillectuals. Also, not all government officials are sociopaths.