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Searching for a Fire to Light the Way
It didn't seem as if the girl wanted to speak with him. Well... that was cool with Keiji, it was a bit rude, sure, but it was cool with him. Mean girl, he was, after all trying to be helpful

A little hurt that he had been ignored, Keiji fiddled with the hilt of the sabre, before going into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a bright red bandanna. Keiji quickly wrapped it around his head to keep his braids out of his eyes. They were just at the length to be an irritation on that front. Fortunately, it was easily dealt with,

Keiji looked up at the sky with some concern. It was getting dark, and the ominous storm clouds were showing no signs of dissipating. If he didn't get to cover soon, he was going to get absolutely drenched - especially since the north coast was so open to the elements. There would be no protection from any poor weather whatsoever.

D'aw man, I don't wanna get wet. I'll get like, all cold and stuff. And I'll be wet and soggy and soaked and drowned and drenched and wet. Rain sucks, it's like... rainy and stuff. Silly girl though, if she just wants to sit there and get drowned. Can you drown in rain? Oh no! What if I'm just standing here and the rain comes in and it's like heavy and there's lots of it and I stand here and get drowned!?

Having succeeded into almost driving himself into a panic, Keiji's short attention span soon prevailed. He was quickly distracted once again, this time by the quality of the sand underfoot, subtly different from anything there had been back home in Southridge. He was idly wondering just why the sand was different, considering such possible situations as persecution and racism, when his head snapped around at an unexpected noise.

Keiji looked towards the source of the speaking, a quiet 'hey' and spotted a rather large girl walking towards him and the other, mean one. Did he know her? She was called like.., like, Lex or something. Lex Luthor? No wait, that was from Spiderman. Erm... Machina came to mind, but that was the techy stuff from FFX wasn't it? Did that make her Spideryuna? Probably not, Keiji decided - Yuna's eyes were two different colours...

He listened as Lex spoke to him, head cocked slightly to one side, paying rather more attention to her make-up than what she was actually saying. Introductions were boring, appearances were interesting. Absently, Keiji rubbed his tattoo, which he still maintained was awesome, despite misgivings due to the number of people who liked to point it out. Then again, they weren't all criticising, so...

As Lex finished, Keiji guessed he should speak up. He wasn't rude, like mean girl, after all.

"I'm Keiji. Sarcastic-man and stammer-boy said we've been here for... um. Like, three days. They said other stuff about people like, getting killed, but that can't be true, we're all good, nobody kills each other right? But I'm not worried if people are, I've like, got a sword, which you can like, choppy chop bad guys and stuff with. It's not a shinken though, which is bad, they're good, because I can do Iaido properly, but not with this, and that makes me kinda sad and stuff. I won't cry though! It's only a sword," Keiji trailed off, aware he had rambled. He shuffled his feet awkwardly for a moment or two.

Oops, I got like, carried away and stuff.

Them vs. You vs. Me
Sean could really, really do without Joey McHaimond right now. After hearing of the death of his boyfriend, although it was much later in the day, admittedly, a conversation with a gold class asshole like this guy was exactly what Sean didn't need. The pair of them didn't get along at the best of times, let alone in a situation like this. Joey, back in Southridge, had made it a favourite past time of his to repeatedly and incessantly insult him because of his sexuality. It wasn't, perhaps, constant, but frequent enough to never let Sean quite forget about it. Sean really did wonder sometimes if Joey realised that those he was trying to impress couldn't give a damn about him. He was like a little dog, barking and yapping for attention, that everybody wishes they could kick, but won't, on principle. You can't kick a dog after all.

Joey was just a self-centered moron. He thought he was popular, but Sean knew, with conviction that bordered certain, that he had more friends than him. It wasn't hard to beat just about zero after all, even if Sean's social circle was limited to Andy, a couple of his friends, and one or two members of the baseball team. Joey, though a minor celebrity was just too full of himself. There were much bigger fish on the local scene, and Joey's egotistical ways forced his erstwhile friends away in droves. Sean doubted Joey realised that. The guy's IQ was too firmly entrenched in double figures for him to have the mental capacity to make that kind of connection.

'Lucky' was just about to turn away and advise Julie to get Joey to leave before things started to get ugly, when Joey opened his big mouth and verbally shattered the tenuous hold Sean had over his emotions. Sean actually phsyically jerked when Joey said he had been looking for 'him and his fag'. He was still recuperating from that utterly tactless and insensitive comment as Joey went on to make some sort of innane comment about Sean's t-shirt. Then Joey kept on going. The last part was just too much for Sean to cope with.

And things got ugly.

That... that BASTARD! Doesn't he even fucking know Andy is goddamn dead!? Maybe the spindly asshole can't beat anybody up, but he speaks with fucking knives!

Sean struggled to maintain his temper for a little while, trembling, standing straight up with both fists clenched. He glowered at the ground, tears pricking at the corners of both eyes, teeth clenched. The bloodstained crucifix seemed to have dried, the blood wasn't coming off when he rubbed it. The bloodied cross swung in front of Sean, almost mocking him it seemed. Sean again raised a hand, smothering the little gesture of faith in his palm, shuddering where he stood. He managed to keep quiet as Julie spoke, then finally, snapped.

"Don't ever talk about Andy like that," Sean said, his voice surprisngly calm. Then he charged forward with an angry roar, all the frustration and emotion he had in him tearing out in one huge scream.

Sean covered the distance between them very quickly, before lowering his shoulder and aiming it at the centre of Joey's chest. The guy was a little twig compared to Sean. The baseballer had been putting on quite a bit of muscle recently - which incidentally highlighted the flaw in BMI. Comparing Sean's physique to Joey's, and there was only way this was gonna go. The surfer was about to be flattened.

Of all the fucking... he moved!

Still, even as his intended target made tracks with a scream (an incredibly girlish scream, Bobby observed) Bobby knew that he would have to take cover as well, lest those inside the mess hall - whoever the guy he had shot at was talking to, decided to return fire. Considering they may well have a gun, which could well be better than the frankly rather pitiful carbine, hitting the deck would be a wise course of action. Bobby ducked behind a nearby tree, crouching as he did so. Suddenly, there was a crack and something whipped past to Bobby's left. His head snapped across, and there, standing not too far away. was one of his fellows, armed with a rifle. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

If I hadn't just moved... Shit, shit, shit...

Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity if it all. Really, he had been just as fortunate as his original target in avoiding getting hit. Unfortunately for him, escaping wouldn't be quite as easy, running towards the mess could well get him ventilated, wheras moving at the other guy was likely to get him shot too. Bobby quickly worked the bolt of his carbine - before realising that it was the last bullet in the magasine. He hadn't been paying attention after his frenzied shooting, now... this could be costly.

The boxer dived forwards so that he was shielded, at least, from the rifle armed student standing in the opposite direction. With his back to the tree, he could keep an eye on the mess too whilst he reloaded.

Unbelievable. That guy had to be trailing behind his group didn't he? Either that, or he just came by randomly. I hope it's the latter, because there's a greater chance that he's playing. If he is, that means I'm not looking at an attack from both sides, and this could turn into a three way dance. Tch... if he is with them, then I hope to hell they don't have a gun there. Otherwise, to put it delicately, I'm fucking screwed,,,

She Bop
"Sure thing Melina," Maxie said with an ordinately cheerful smile. "How 'bout ya turn 'round and fuck off back t'psycho land - and I won't put t'hurt on ya?" there was no way in hell Maxie was ever going to team up with Melina - she had just executed one of her own allies after all, Maxie wasn't putting her own neck on the same block. "Lemme rephrase that. You equal murdering lunatic, I equal at least kinda sane. Incompatible, comprende?"

Maxie was pretty confident she could take Melina if it came down to a fight. Off her rocker and downright vicious as the other girl was, Maxie knew that she couldn't be skilled enough with that chain of hers to be able to use it effectively as a weapon. Sure, it looked easy enough to just swing around, but actually attacking with it would be another matter entirely. Maxie could see it becoming wrapped around just about anything, and that, in almost any circumstance, would be a disadvantage for the weapon's wielder. On the other hand, her meat hook, whilst perhaps a little more short ranged than the chain (although the hook was sizeable) wasn't particularly difficult to use, it was just swinging, trying to aim the point to snag flesh. There was a little blood running down the tip, and a slash on Melina's shoulder displayed where it had come from.

Maybe it wasn't such a good thing to delight in the injuring of a fellow classmate, but as far as Maxie was concerned: it was Melina, and she had already killled somebody else. In Maxie's mind, that was enough to forfeit any kind of right she was entitled to for compassion or mercy. Melina was a killer, an immoral murderer, and she wouldn't be brought to justice in any other way but more of what had condemned her.

Even as a voice called out from behind her, Maxie sprang into motion. She took two swift steps, forward to her right, before leaping onto the attack for a second time. Her erratic movements would hopefully throw Melina off as she attempted to concentrate on both her opponent and the difficulty in swinging the chain she was using. Maxie, meanwhile, brought her arm across her own body and aimed a backswing at Melina's chest, the movement preventing anything more than her right arm being exposed to attack, and the hook in the way of that kind of attack.

72 Hours: Uprising
Meh, it's good so far, not sure it has quite the same resonance as the first one, although considering it's still at the stage of establishing characters and offing the fodder (pretty much) that's only to be expected.

However, don't like the idea of there being a guy who's instantly set up to be a bad guy, especially one who appears especially depraved. Just seems... cheap, somehow. I liken it to my dislike for the pre-generated villain characters in SOTF. Grendel's cut from a similar mould.

Hi! And Questions!
As Kyle isn't here right now:

There's no point welcoming you back, you'll never post again after this topic and we'll likely never hear from you again.

But seriously, welcome back man :P

((Bobby continued from: Point of Collapse))

Bobby was still tired, even after his nap - his rude awakening putting paid to any notion of a good long sleep. At least, he consoled himself, he wasn't as mindnumbingly exhausted as he had been before resting. Sure, Bobby was tired, but at least he didn't feel as if his body was about to give out on him at any second, something that Bobby was regretfully familiar with. It was, after all, what he had been experiencing just before he threw the punch which turned the lights out Christopher Straton out for good.

The encounter with Will and his posse had been ultimately frustrating, but also something of an eye opener. It, at least, was rather thought provoking. Was he just a psychopath? Bobby didn't want to contemplate that. Certainly he was immoral, that was beyond question, but... some kind of lunatic? Was his 'Doing what I have to' justification little more than a thinly veiled excuse to indulge his own appetite for murder?

No... that is not true. I know better than anybody that what I'm doing is wrong, but it's also the only option for me to take. If somebody told me there was a way out, I'd take it in a second, I wouldn't try to kill them anyway. This... game, has got me in its grip, but I can fight my way out of it if I have to. For now though... I guess I'll let myself by drawn along a little longer.

Having been lost in thought for a while, the sight of a building through the jungle was a surprise to Bobby, but he quickly brought himself to readiness, bringing the carbine up to his shoulder and glancing from side to side, checking that he wouldn't be in for any unpleasant surprises. Funnily enough, Bobby didn't exactly feel like getting shot in the back of the head.

Cautiously moving up, Bobby spied a figure standing outside of the building. Bobby wasn't sure which it was - but definitely one he hadn't seen before, meaning it was either the mess hall or the showers. Considering its size, more likely the former. That was immaterial, however, of more import was the student.

Bobby aimed down the sights of the Armalon at the square of his fellow student's back, and hesitated. He was unlikely to miss from this range. Could he do it? Shooting at Quale and Will had been a spur of the moment thing, brought about by anger, could he really, in cold blood, shoot down one of his fellows?

No stopping now. I have to do this.

Uttering a silent apology in his mind, Bobby kept his aim steady and pulled the trigger.

((In case you haven't picked up on it, it's Quincy Bobby's shooting at, although seensas he's the only one outside))

*waits for news that trip has been abducted and will be placed in BR*

Them vs. You vs. Me
"Do I think it will do him any good?" Sean asked Julie incredulously. "He's fucking dead, whatever the hell I do is completely immaterial!" Sean fell quiet after that, continuing to lie on the ground staring up at the sky. Julie talking to him was a help, after a fashion, if only because it gave him an excuse to keep everything off his mind, by way of utilising whatever cynicism he could muster. Odd coping strategy, and it wasn't going to bear up for all that long, that was for sure.

When Kyrie spoke to him again, Sean sighed and slowly eased himself into an upright position, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, he looked over at her and shook his head sadly.

"I appreciate what you're saying Kyrie... but either I figure this through by myself, or I'm not going to pick myself up at all. I don't want any sympathy, I won't start kicking off all 'Hamlet' on anybody. I'm no bleeding heart... But in the end... I might decide that I've got something else to live for... and I might not. I don't want to be rude, but can you leave off me? What you say isn't going to make a difference, putting it bluntly, keep your efforts for somebody who it will be a worthwhile investment,"

Sean glanced away from his would-be comforter and down at the bloodspattered crucifix still hanging from his neck. He clenched the small cross in his hand for a moment, then glanced up at the sky. He hadn't, in truth, been the most religious of people, but he still had some belief. But now... God and he... would be having words. Sean turned at the sound of the twig snapping and was most displeased to see Joey McHaimond frozen, crawling away from them.

"Oh look... Prick McAsshole, how... nice to see you,"

She Bop
Although her quick strides had taken her out of the arc of Renee's bow and thus out of immediate danger, Maxie found herself impotent to stop the murder which followed - too far away to prevent Melina making a bloody example of somebody who appeared to be one of her own.

Maxie couldn't believe what had just happened - right in front of her eyes, no less. She, of course, had seen evidence of the game's progression firsthand, the slew of corpses around the hospital had put paid to any notion of denying it, even if she had been inclined to disbelieve the daily announcements. But somebody being killed... literally right in front of her, that was just something else. After her initial shock, however, Maxie found herself angry more than anything else. These people... they had murdered a member of their own group without a second thought, and cut her face to boot! The girl with the weird laser gun had the right idea - these sick psychos had it coming to them.

"Hey! Whore!" Maxie shouted at Melina, stalking towards her, brandishing the meat hook. Although she hadn't been quite close enough earlier, the distance wasn't anything to boast about. Her rather unflattering form of address spoke volumes of the relationship between Maxie and Melina prior to the game. Put bluntly, they fucking hated one another. "Try takin' somebody on in a fair fight f'once!" as Maxie grew close, she broke into a sprint, bounding forward and lashing out at Melina's throat with her weapon.

Point of Collapse
((Feh, this won't be good. Just wanna get this wrapped up))

Bobby was taken offguard by Will's sudden movement, and as such, started shooting perhaps a little later than he otherwise would have done. Nevertheless, he scored several clear hits - although more shots seemed to hit the boy Will was carrying than the man himself.

He stopped after his quickfire volley, breathing heavily. Bobby noted that, although he had failed to take out any of the opposistion, he had managed to work the bolt mechanism on the carbine very quickly indeed whilst firing. Although it didn't compare to even semi-automatic fire, the increase in the rate was at least a comfort.

Rest ruined, but uninjured, Bobby decided it would be best if he just left the scene.

((Continued in Sadist))

Searching for a Fire to Light the Way
(Start: B61)

Keiji Tanaka, four days into SOTF V3, still found it within himself to be optimistic. This was in no small part due to his next to boundless reserves of energy. It was hard to stay positive when you were exhausted, but fatigue wasn't something which would factor in for quite some time. Amusingly enough, it wasn't that Keiji had great faith, a master plan of escape or was being accompanied by his friends.

Putting it kindly, he was just not intelligent enough to be pessimistic.

Perhaps it was fortunate that he hadn't actually had any real encounters since the beginning of the game, which, considering the length of time which had passed already, was rather unlikely to say the least. In an ironic turn, Keiji had been assigned a sword, but it seemed somebody had conspired to ensure it was not a weapon that he was proficient with. A sabre was another thing entirely from the shinken of Iaido, and although you could argue that any kind of blade wass a bonus, the weapon Keiji received just wasn't the thing for the discipline he favoured. The heavy sabre didn't lend itself well to the swift swipe and return of Iaido.

Not that Keiji had even considered using the weapon, as far as he was concerned, playing was out of the question, anybody playing, in fact, was out of the question. It couldn't, surely, be true? The announcements... lies right? The Danya guy and the stuttering dude were just making things up right? Right?!

... It wasn't important right now.

Keiji had been running along the beach for quite a while, hoping, more than anything, to find some cover - he really didn't want to get wet. However, he ground to a sudden halt when he spotted somebody sitting on the beach. He could about make out it was a girl, and she looked kinda tired, but he didn't recognise her, not at first glance at least. It didn't matter, nobody was bad right?

"Hey!" Keiji called to her, the thought she might have been playing never crossed his mind. "Um, hi! I think you should get off the beach - the weather is bad and stuff, like all stormy and rainy and wet. Um, you need a hand? I'm like, strong and stuff, I could help carry your bag, if it's heavy"

He really could be compared to puppy - anxious, eager to please and hyperactive. Dumb too, of course, once again, the idea that the girl might find a heavily muscled and rather large boy intimidating never occured to him. That, after all, would require some form of deduction, and Keiji was terrible at maths.

V3 Area Maps
Yeah, there aren't any limitations with movement.

Friendly Critiques
*casts sidelong glance at Ci*

Know what this means Jeff? We aren't the newbies any more! Booyah!

j/k ;)

Crash: To be honest? So far you've been blowing me away, a lot of detail in your posts and an interesting new character inbound means I'm looking forward to seeing more of your stuff. :)

Solitair: Quincy had a neat entry into the game, but I have to say, something about him puts me off (more on this later, as it's more general than totally Quincy). Still, nice work so far man!

Ariadne: I like what I'm seeing Ari, although making your two characters be best friends, for some reason, seems off to me (don't worry about it, I'm eccentric) they both look interesting and Trinity's debut was sweet.

Kode_Hairesu: Haven't seen anything much of you to tell you the truth - my advice is to be careful when you're making your profiles, cuz there were a couple of slips there, and adding stuff like bulemia seemed kinda uncessary to me.

uskyld: Misunderstanding with the thread rules notwithstanding, what I've read so far seems promising, Anna looks to be an interesting character, one I'd certainly like to read more about.

Lucid: *puts up hand* I have to admit guilt and say I didn't yet read any of Jodene, so can't make a critique. Sorry to leave you out.

Okay, here's a little something I've noticed recently, and hell, it's only a personal peeve, so nobody need making anything more of it than an opinion. Why is it people feel the need to assert 'villainness' from the very profile of the character? I think I've lost count of the number of 'emotionally detached' 'doesn't care for classmates' types I've seen thusfar. By all means, have a villain character, I have one myself, do you just have to by so... obvious about it? Heck, Bobby was villain from post 1 on the island, but I like to think, looking at his profile and Pregame showing, that you couldn't immediately tell that he was a bad guy.


Anyway... Keep up the good work newcomers!

Bringing that ol' Wiki to the foreground...
Just compiled the Student Deceased List for V2. As I mentioned in the article, it took me some time (well, maybe two or three days) :D

V3 Area Maps
I figure that Meg doesn't want to complicate things by having an overall map - otherwise it's gonna look as if characters are jumping all over the island seemingly without crossing the spaces in between.

Keiji Tanaka
Name: Keiji Tanaka
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12th
School: Southridge High School
Hobbies and interests: Keiji practices Iaidō and frequently attends a training school. He also takes a peculiar pleasure in never backing down from a fight, and initiating them for almost any reason. Keiji dabbles in basketball, and he is a fair enough player, though far from the best around. Finally, Keiji works out a great deal, in order to optimise his body’s performance.

Appearance: Keiji has a well-toned physique, a result of many hard, hard hours spent working out and exercising. Keiji considers himself to have just the right amount of muscle on his 5ft 10” body, and his guess is pretty much perfect, though only due to the fanatical way in which Keiji got it to its present state. Keiji commonly wears sleeveless jerseys along with comfortable; though worn and torn jeans, almost every single pair that Keiji owns are similarly shabby as he deliberately gets them into that state. On occasion, he dons a bandana also; and he will always have one on him, just in case he feels like wearing it.

Keiji’s eyes are shaped in keeping with most of those sharing his Japanese ethnicity and they are brown, bright and expressive. Keiji tends to keep his hair short, and he likes to keep the black locks contained in neat little braids, though why he styles them such is anybodies guess. He has a curious tattoo on his right cheek, it is black, outlined with red, and consists of five curved and pointed “branches” on alternate sides of a centre which itself is pointed and curved at both ends. When questioned about the tattoo, Keiji simply replies that he likes how it looks; and getting it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Biography: Keiji was born and raised in California, to parents who both hailed from Japan. Whilst Keiji grew up in America his parents took great pains to ensure that he knew just where he came from and what that entailed. As such Keiji is very proud about his home country, and one of his greatest wishes is to see it one day; despite not even knowing what it is truly like there.

Keiji has practiced the art of Iaido since a fairly young age, ever since, in fact, he was old enough to be allowed. His interest stems once again from curiosity about Japan and their history, and this form of sword use attracted him strongly.

It was around the age of fourteen that Keiji began to become increasingly fixated on building up his body and fitness. The reasons for this strange obsession were most likely linked to his stunning beating in a fight at school. Keiji began to feel that he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough, and so began his punishing regime. However, a strange peculiarity of the incident (which caused a bloody nose, a torn ear, and he loss of a great chunk of pride) was that it caused Keiji's nature to change a great deal. Previously something of a troublemaker; with a huge taste for getting into any fight he could find an excuse to, he became far more caring and kind. A simple (and surprisingly accurate) of Keiji nowadays is that of an overgrown puppy dog. Loyal, enthusiastic, energetic, not too bright, naive... the similarities go on and on.

About a year after the start of his new regime, Keiji took up basketball as a means to channel some of his restless energy. Keiji isn’t a world-class player, but he isn’t bad either. Basketball is, for Keiji, just another outlet for his seemingly inexhaustible reserves of strength and energy. Currently, Keiji is going on just as he always has. He practises his Iaido, he trains, he plays basketball, and generally makes a mischief of himself.

Keiji isn’t all that bright in himself, and his attention being almost entirely on sports, his grades really slide downhill elsewhere. Keiji frequently forgets to complete homework assignments, and can even be caught staring with longing out of windows, desperate to be outside. Keiji is expressive and can, surprisingly, come across as quite naïve and innocent. Keiji wears his heart on his sleeve and his face can be read like a book. Keiji likes to think that he has guile and cunning, but he overestimates his own intelligence, and often finds himself bewildered as to why his painstakingly laid plans do not work.

Advantages: Keiji is tough, quick and fit. His numerous sporting endeavours and intense training scheme have made him strong and fast, with boundless determination. Keiji is also highly proficient with a Shinken, from his Iaido. Finally, he has a very kind nature, which can help to endear him to others.

Disadvantages: Keiji isn’t very clever; he puts trust in people far too easily and is not hard to deceive. Whilst his sports are his greatest asset, they can be his downfall also. Keiji is a little too intense about his passions at times, and this can overwhelm people. Keiji’s enormous staying power and determination can also be translated into sheer obstinacy. Keiji doesn’t know when he’s beaten, and he sometimes suffers for it.

She Bop
As she ran towards the fight taking place, Maxie came close to tripping over. She was so intent on closing the gap and halting the affray, that she failed to look where she was going properly, and stumbled over something - probably a tree root. Nevertheless, this unexpected obstacle threw Maxie off her stride entirely and into an unusual position as she fought to retain her balance. She heard a peculiar twang sound, and involuntarily, looked towards the source of the noise.

And just had enough time to register an arrow winging its way towards her face before it struck.

The arrow scored a line of pain across Maxie's right cheek, top left to bottom right hand side of it - if she hadn't turned her head, it would have likely struck her at the base of her neck, and nobody would get up from that kind of wound. Still, the shock of being hurt caused Maxie to reflexively throw herself down. Immediately, her free hand went up to her face, coming away bloody.

"Fuck," Maxie muttered, rolling as best she could, hopefully getting out of the fire arc of whoever had just attempted to take her out. A stationary target was a sitting duck, whether their adversary had experience or not. She'd been hurt, and didn't plan on being so a second time. At least the kid Melina was attacking (a pretty damn crazy seeming guy he was too) had managed to get away.

"Close call," Maxie said to herself, scrambling up onto her knees and taking several swift, bounding strides away from where she had been wounded, trying to neutralise the chances of any more shots finding their target in her.

SOTF on TV Tropes
Considering the circumstances, it wasn't much of a Diabolous Ex Machina - if you think that there wasn't exactly a victory to be struck down in the dust by a cruel twist of fate.

Them vs. You vs. Me
Sean shrugged and managed a weak smile after Julie spoke to him, still seated, he tried not to move around too much and make her job even harder.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sean murmured, gritting his teeth as the disinfectant stung his wound, easing his arms backward so that he was propped up on his palms, taking some of the difficulty of staying upright away. As Julie moved away once the announcements started (who the hell was that guy doing them anyway?) Sean reached up and held the half-wrapped bandage in place. Sean offered another half-smiled as Kyrie came in to give him a hand, finishing off the wrapping. Sean extended a hand, for a truce of sorts... Then let it drop as whoever the stammering voice stuttered its way to saying the last name Sean had wanted to hear.

"Oh fuck no..."

Sean didn't know whether to break down and cry or scream his anger to the heavens. He wasn't even sure he fully comprehended what had just been said. Andy was dead. Not killed, dead. It wasn't even something shocking or horrifying. It was... bloody stupid. He had slipped, hit his head and drowned? What kind of fucking way to die was that!? Sean was still sitting there, stunned at the suddeness of events, when he heard something else, the final blow to a teetering and tenuous emotional state.

Simon Wood.

Tyson Neills.

Andy Walker.

In the space of three days. he'd lost his cousin, best friend and boyfriend.

Okay, fine, Sean and Simon weren't close, they didn't even like each other that much. The latter was too quiet and reserved for Sean's taste, wheras with Simon, the reverse was true, regarding his cousin as brash and irritatingly loud. It didn't matter. They were relatives, a reasonably close member of Sean's family had died, it wasn't somwthing to merely be shaken off.

Tyson... that had been a kind of delayed shock, in Sean's opinion. When his friend had died way back when on day one (it seemed so far back now) they hadn't been close for quite a while before SOTF, in all fairness, but at the same time, it was almost impossible to just cast away a friendship of more than ten years just because of some kind of fallout. The saddest thing about it was that Sean didn't even kwow why Tyson had started to avoid him.

But Andy... Andy was where it all fell down. There wasn't, simply put, anybody Sean cared more for in the world. A whirlwind romance, all of that jazz, he had, he supposed, picked a good time to come out. Andy's persistant bugging wasn't out of a desire to just be purely annoying... care... more like.

Three people, all of which closely associated with Sean, one a relative, one a friend, one a love. And... they were all dead.

All three of Sean's companions saw fit to speak up in some way, whether as a consolation or a tentative query. Sympathetic, but also wary, as if afraid he would explode or something. He didn't say a word though, just letting silence speak for him. Really, what was there to say? He could scream defiance and swear revenge (Simon and Tyson, at least, had real killers) but what would that accomplish? It wouldn't make any difference. Tears streaming silently from his eyes, Sean looked at Julie, then Kyrie.

"Abso-fucking-loutely dandy Julie," Sean told her, managing to muster a speck of sarcasm even in his grief. The Irish boy looked over back at Kyrie again. "Just don't, okay? My 'Lucky' status might mean I'm not dead... but I might as well be,"

Sean threw himself back onto the ground and stared up at the sky, feeling... empty. What was the point in anger? In sadness? It all came to nothing in the end. A bitter thought assailed him.

Now I've experienced a modicum of what Adam has. Poor, poor bastard.


Nothing left to live for...