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Introduction Thread
Hello Jeb!

SOTF-TV regs are open on the Mini site if you want in. It's basically a smaller, AU version of SOTF, in which it's more reality TV themed! Also check out chat, the wiki, and the roleplaying guides if you haven't already.

If you need any help, feel free to ask!

The Silver Chair
Pain.

That was what Alex knew right now.

She had no idea how much it had hurt until Carlon had started doing first aid. When they were walking, it hurt, certainly, but not like this when someone was actually touching it. It would sound a little melodramatic, but she never knew so much pain. As she waited for him to finish, she couldn't help but flinch a few times.

Flinching?

No, not just flinching.

Screaming.

She wanted it to stop soon. The pain was unbearable, as if her leg was threatening to break.

It only got worse when she looked down and saw for herself what her leg looked like. Everything below her ankle seemed to have been dyed red. Her shoe, her pantleg, her sock, everything.

So instead, as she sat she looked up, focusing on the ceiling a bit. It was dark, with a few cracks up. Alex, through the pain, noticed that there was a shining black hook, a few cobwebs, and a few holes.

Her eyes flicked above them as her vision slightly darkened, then went clear again. She was close to passing out from the pain, that she knew. She was dimly aware of her own cries, her own screams to for the pain to stop.

But it didn't.

As he said he was almost done, Alex continued staring up, watching nothing in particular. The sky was growing dark, and she was scared. When she first woke up, she thought she would live, as well as a good portion of her classmates. It wasn't just the pain she was scared of. It was an experience she didn't even focus on during the briefing.

But she was also scared of death. Of course, it was something she had been scared of to begin with, like everyone else. But this was the first time she wondered if she was going to die soon. If it wasn't the injury, it was something else.

She felt Carlon wrap up her leg, and once he was done Alex was dimly aware of him placing his things back in his bag. She looked at him, the draining bottle in her hands, the pain still resonating, her face still as pale as ever.

Only three words came out.

"Is... is it over?"

Maybe it was.

Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice
Miranda's eyes flicked about, eventually landing on the second bag laying nearby on the ground.

She felt horrible, but a surge of curiosity came over her. Did Kaitlyn have something in there? A weapon, food? Oh god, she was seriously thinking of... and she still needed to figure out what to do with Kaitlyn. And now, here she was, thinking about the contents of her bag before thinking of a way to get Kaitlyn's body out of sight. The body which she... well, made that way. It was not a good feeling to be thinking like this at all.

But in spite of her revulsion, she quietly stepped towards the bag, and, placing her own and her spear on the ground, took a closer look.

Her heart raced. What was in here? Would it be some kind of weapon, or worse? Would there be something there for her to be scared of? Maybe something that was hers from before, like a picture of her family? Did she see someone die, or worse, attacked someone before?

This was it. Miranda was now looting through the last possessions of someone she had previously killed. She hated the idea, but she didn't want to keep her curiosity waiting.

Slowly, she unzipped the bag.

Her hands moved some objects around, but as she searched every nook and cranny of the bag, she started to become confused. The confusion turned to laughter. It was less like something genuinely funny had made her laugh, and more like the kind of bitter laughter she would make at an Aristocrats joke that hit everything wrong.

There was nothing particularly notable about the bag. The only thing of note was that she seemed to have extra food.

Miranda wondered if she should take the food and water. There was something wrong, the idea of taking someone's things after killing them. Miranda almost wanted to leave the food behind. However, food. Reluctantly, she moved the remaining food and water to her own.

After standing up, she looked back to Kaitlyn, a gulp in her throat. Miranda remembered something; she just tore down the curtain a few minutes ago. It was probably a good idea to get it so that her body would be at least covered. That somehow... seemed the right thing to do.

Picking up her spear and her now somewhat more heavy bag, she nervously walked back towards the house, only...

A series of banging noises hit her ear.

Miranda froze, taking a few beats to process it. It didn't take long, though.

In her entire life, Miranda had never actually heard a gunshot. It was usually in movies and such that she heard them, not reality. But now she knew, based off her ringing ears. To make matters worse, whoever it was, by the sounds of it, had a machine gun. And to make matters even worse? By the sound of things, they were aiming towards her. Even if she thought they didn't get her, they were still there.

Her mind slipped away from the curtain, and the only thought that went through her mind was one thing; run.

Miranda darted as fast as she could with the heavy bag and spear, leaving Kaitlyn's cooling, looted, uncovered, and alone body.

She didn't stop until she was out of town.

((Miranda Millers continued in No Whammies. Gunshots approved by Fio))

The Unlucky Clover Field
Lana continued to cover her eyes with her arms, still not wanting to look. She heard the noises of Ilya and Stephanie fumbling about, Ilya was telling Stephanie not to lie to her. Her being... Venice.

So that was it? Venice was going to die. There was nothing they could do. Only some kind of miracle would save her now. Lana wanted to turn back time, to make sure that she was more careful, or that she wasn't even holding the damn thing in the first place. What would happen then?

Venice would be alright, that was certain.

She heard Stephanie again, She... she was gone for good.

"How?"

That was the first word, muffled through her arms, that she had spoken in a while.

Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice
Almost on cue, Miranda stepped back, sliding the blade out of her and releasing her grip. Kaitlyn fell to the ground, shuddering in pain. Miranda firmly closed her eyes, wanting to avoid the sight. She knew this was coming. Miranda knew she would have to kill soon. It was down to her or her classmates. And she knew that she couldn't just hide forever.

Even then, something about the whole thing still hurt.

She was aware of Kaitlyn still moving, but she didn't want to.


No.


She couldn't truly claim she didn't mean to. Miranda had already made her choice to play. She meant to kill someone. Just because she wasn't planning on killing her just now didn't mean that she didn't have intent to murder. It was murder, plain and simple. If she tried to describe it as anything else, she would be denying the truth.

But sometimes, the truth still hurt.

A small voice reached Miranda's ears, and she opened her eyes again. Kaitlyn was reaching out, her hand stained with red blood, begging. She was still suffering. She didn't want to be anymore. Her request was a simple enough one, and....

Miranda felt she should honor it.

Stepping towards Kaitlyn again, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes firmly once more briefly and nodded.

Some questions you find yourself asking here are ones you normally don't find yourself asking, not at Seattle. In this case the question was "neck or chest?". Both had the potential of ending it quickly, but she wasn't sure which one would be quicker, or which one would hurt more. If she went for the neck, would she spend a few more minutes trying to breath? If she went for the chest, would she bleed out faster?

Miranda chose quickly, and decided on "chest".

She raised the point above Kaitlyn's chest, and took another deep breath.

She counted internally as she lowered the spear.


5...

4...

3...

2...

1...


Once the spear was lowered and removed, Miranda knew one thing.

She was alone again.


Miranda, in some part of her mind, heard some noises in the distance, but her mind was focused elsewhere. The spear quietly dripped with still warm blood in her hands, the droplets gently hitting the ground.

This was her first kill, then. It had been a lot easier to accomplish than she would have imagined. If you had asked her before, it would have been harder in her mind's eye to kill someone. She would think the task would be much more...

Her only true prior experience with killing was in some sort of video game, where enemies could be gunned down without remorse. It's something you don't think about when you're playing some first-person shooter or some RPG. You just attack, hope they don't attack back, and reap the riches. Briefly looking back at all of those memories of her playing games, she had no idea how hard and yet how easy taking a life truly was.

Oh, who was she kidding? Why was she making this a pity party about herself when she just stabbed someone?

Miranda looked away, noticing that the door of the house she had exited from was still open. Without a word, she went back to her own bag, which had fallen during the conflict, and after slinging it over her shoulder she slid back inside.

Everything looked the same as it did before.

Miranda slipped the bag off, and looked around her.

A pair of dusty red curtains framed the window in the living room, creating a barrier between her and the outside. Still aware of the spear in her hand, still very much dripping, she went over to inspect. Miranda placed her spear on the ground, and gave one of the curtains a very firm tug. It fell to the ground, giving her a more clear view of the world.

Miranda picked up her spear again and cleaned it using the curtain. No matter how much she cleaned, it still seemed to be in some way filthy. Just when she thought it was almost clean, there seemed to be a small droplet of blood.

Even when she stopped she still felt it was filthy.

A thought hit her, and Miranda looked through the window. She needed to see Kaitlyn again.

Pausing for a few seconds, she decided to go back outside. The morning air felt almost cold against her, as she held her spear and bag close.

With nervousness in her step, she approached Kaitlyn again. The red shapes still covered her torso, staining her purple shirt.

Miranda tried to think. It didn't seem right, leaving her out here like this. Something about the idea seemed... barbaric, even for here. But what could she do? She didn't have a shovel and she doubted that the spear would make a good substitute. She could get something like sheets or the curtains, and use that to cover her up. Burning her? No, she didn't have something like that.

Yet another question she found herself asking: what to do with the body of someone who you just killed?

Giant Mecha battle!
*pokes head around the corner*

I'm... morbidly curious what you would do to me. I get the feeling the results would be amusing. O_O

The Unlucky Clover Field
It took Lana a bit to figure out what was happening.

Venice Pennington-Johannes had appeared on the ground, apparently the source of the voice. Stephanie had ran over to her, reaching down to her chest. A large red spot had swiftly formed from underneath Venice's pink shirt. Her mind didn't want to process it any further. But deep down, she had known what had happened.

She shot Venice. Not intentionally, but it was still a shooting.

She looked at Ilya, then at Stephanie, then at Venice, then the gun, then back again.

Lana slowly and gently placed her gun behind her on the cart, her mind unable to sort things out.

Just a few minutes ago, she was okay. She had a feeling things were going to work out at least semi-fine. But then what? Things going increasingly bad?

She covered her face with her shaking arms.

Lana didn't want to deal with anything right now.

The Unlucky Clover Field
Lana hadn't moved a muscle since the announcements ended. For a brief second, she had forgotten that Ilya and Stephanie were watching her, knowing what was going through her mind at that moment.

But when she heard Ilya's voice, she jumped.

He was asking her if she needed anything? Lana tightly closed her eyes. What she kind of wanted right now was to be alone. Lana had never experienced something like this in her life, not ever. But Lana didn't like to run to others about her problems, not ever. If she did, they would surround her, treat her as something to be pitied.

It wasn't even truly her problem, either. The issue was someone close to her had jumped to his death. The voice had treated it as if it were something funny, like a Darwin award or something terrible like that. The thing was, David Russell was someone she knew, someone she once dated, someone she was a friend of. He couldn't make it. He didn't want to. It wasn't her they should be worried about.

Lana opened her eyes, and not even looking at Ilya, she slid past him, not noticing she was stepping on the dropped bar along the way. She made her way back to the overturned cart. She didn't want Stephanie to say anything, either.

Her eyes still looked blank as she stared at her belongings. Slowly, she reached for the gun, examining it. It was something to keep her mind off what she just learned. She had thought she never wanted to use it, and still didn't. Lana still wasn't used to having a gun in her hand, but it was something she could hold for a bit.

Lana was lost in thought, once more not paying attention to anything around her.

After a brief period, a new voice had entered, and Lana jumped a second time.

Before she even looked, she felt and heard the gun go off inside her hands, her finger having slipped in just the wrong way.

The Silver Chair
((Alex Ripley continued from There ain't no more cowboys, only men with violent hearts))

As the two walked on, Alex found her heart racing and her breath coming in quick.

The gunshot wound still blared in her ankle, still giving her grief. She could feel the warm liquid dripping out of it, and how disorientated she felt. Alex wasn't sure whether or not it was from the shock or the bloodloss.

Even despite the pain and the dizzy feeling, there wasn't just one thing that was of concern to her.

Now that she had calmed down, the image of Daniel's body-Daniel- played over and over in her head. Since they had been walking, Alex was focusing more on keeping her balance rather than grieving. But the image still stayed, no matter what she did. Not just Daniel's, either; previously Alex had somewhat suppressed the memory of Davidge being shot at. But with Daniel came Davidge.

Both of them were alike: Alex couldn't save them. Not anymore. Of course, being tied down, she couldn't save Davidge. But Daniel? If they had stuck together, if she had just looked behind her to check if he was still there, if it was the two of them against Hansel...

Daniel was one person she could never save.

Alex was normally a very talkative girl; she could talk your head off from sunrise to sunset if you allowed her to. But for once in her life, Alex was quiet. Not a word came from her mouth as she leaned against Carlon.

It was strange how he was helping her, really. Not that she was complaining, of course.

As the sun set in the distance, Alex's eyes focused on a barn. Just as she thought of it, Carlon asked if she was okay with resting in there.

Alex looked at him with exhausted eyes, and nodded.

She kind of needed to lay down.

Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice
((GMing approved))

Miranda glared. She had a weird look on her face, like she was trying to smile and be friendly. What was Kaitlyn doing? She looked exhausted. Or maybe... she was planning something, hence why that looked fake. What was, exactly, the reason for waiting outside here?

Maybe the island was starting to get to her, and she was just being paranoid. Maybe that was it. But what if she was right in some way?

Maybe Kaitlyn was indeed hoping to lure her out somehow. Maybe she was waiting for someone to jump out and kill anyone who left the house.

Maybe Kaitlyn was hoping to make her let her guard down, and then kill her when she least expected it.

The thoughts flew through Miranda's head in a panic. She didn't want to be here, or for Kaitlyn to be here. At that moment, she was completely unsure of what to do. There was a lot passing through, and it didn't seem like one thing was the right option.

The first thing she thought of, she did.

She felt herself stomp further to Kaitlyn, spear posed in front of her.

"Go away", she commanded, her voice raising. "Go away!"



Everything after that was briefly a blur.

Miranda remembered seeing Kaitlyn freeze up. Miranda remembered dropping her bag, and the spear striking at Kaitlyn. It had missed, but Kaitlyn had backed into the fence. Over what seemed like a few seconds, Miranda had slammed into her, grabbing her and keeping her close to the fence.

Eventually, things seemed to have stopped.

Kaitlyn's face had distorted in pain, as Miranda's left hand had her gripped by the throat against the fence. Miranda's other hand had the spear, which near her hand was surprisingly warmly wet and...

Oh.

Miranda didn't dare look down at the spear, which she quickly realized was inside Kaitlyn's stomach, nor did she dare look Kaitlyn in the eyes.

This... wasn't what she had planned at all. What Miranda had intended was just... to scare her away. Not this. She freaked out too much, panicked too badly and.. she just... stabbed her. Just like that.

Well, she was planning on killing someone if it came down to it, did it? But could this one be justified, by any means?

She was still alive. Miranda could still hear her breathing and struggling to stay that way. She wasn't likely to be for much longer.

Much like Kaitlyn, she had a look of shock on her face.

Thread Titles
For me, I usually like to go with either references or word play.

For example, I've been wanting to title a thread "Morning Rescue", so when I feel there's a good time for a thread titled that, that's what it would be called. Similarly, I want to start a thread at the Amusement Park, preferably the roller coaster, titled "I Want To Get Off Mr. Bones' Wild Ride!". And I've spoken of my desire multiple times to find an excuse to title a thread "Bad Romance".

Usually these are to songs, movies, anime, or memes, though I know I've made video game references as well.

Overall, if I see something that's thread title worthy, I write it down in my mind, whether it be a play on words, reference, or just a phrase that sounds really cool and is at least vaguely relevant to what's going on.

The Unlucky Clover Field
((Lana Torres continued from Bird, Bats, and General Flying Things))

Lana loved mornings.

There was always something so hopeful about the start of a new day. And really, she was still feeling a bit hopeful. They hadn't ran into too much trouble yesterday, if at all. It seemed as if they had pretty good luck in avoiding the ones who... well, needed to be avoided. There were probably still people out there, planning to kill everyone around them, but no one out of her trio had spotted anything.

The meadow in which they had found themselves in wasn't bad, too. It wasn't the worse way to start the morning, obviously.

Lana had sat herself on the side of what appeared to be an overturned golf cart, eating a bit of the ration bars. It wasn't particularly tasty, though, honestly, she had eaten things that had tasted much worse. She slowly chewed, not saying much since she had woken up in between bites.

It seemed like it would be a nice day out, as well. The sun was already out and shining, with clouds hanging in the sky.

The gun laid next to her, still ready to be used even as Lana knew she wasn't going to use it.

It was strange, really. It felt like some sort of camping trip, rather than a death match. For the moment, Lana let herself believe that lie.

The lie was, however, interrupted when she heard a noise. It took her a beat to figure out what it was, but it hit her. The announcements. She had forgotten about those.

Hesitantly, Lana swallowed the bit of bar in her mouth, and approached the nearby tree some feet away, having seen the nearest intercom attached to it. She didn't want to hear, but she knew she had to get close. Already she could feel the blood pumping through her body.

Right away, a name she was familiar with was mentioned.

Her brown eyes continued staring up at the intercom, widening in shock.

Lana didn't pay attention to the rest of the names. Not only was she unable to pick up on some of it, but she didn't want to hear any more. She wished for it to end, and quickly.

The voice finally ended, after what seemed like forever.

Lana said nothing, eyes still fixed on the intercom. Her posture had changed, becoming both rigid and loose. Everything in the world seemed to have stopped for the moment. She didn't want to look at her two companions right now.

Her fingers still wrapped around the ration bar began to loosen, causing it to slowly hang. Gravity gave way, and her fingers were too loose. Eventually, it fell from her grip, landing in the grass.

But she didn't care.

Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice
For some time, Miranda sat on the bed, thinking to herself. The spear still laid in her hands, as sharp and as deadly as ever. A lot of thoughts went through her mind, certainly, but they came and went.

Eventually, Miranda lifted herself off the bed, and packed what things were still laying out. Within a few moments, everything was organized and placed back into her bag. Miranda made the bed as best she could, mostly out of habit, and put on her socks and shoes. After slinging the bag over her shoulder, exited the bedroom and stepped down the stairs.

The steps once again creaked as she went down, smelling the scent of dust and mold once more. She had been almost used to it by now, but sometimes it took her by surprise.

Once she made her way to the bottom of the stairs, she found out she had left the door ajar last night. She should have been more careful. It was too late now, though.

Slowly opening the door, she peered out, looking at the outside. After a beat, she opened the door completely, and stepped outside, her feet once again hitting the ground.

At first she didn't see anyone, but then she spotted her.

Miranda recognized that black and purple hair. That was Kaitlyn Williamson. She froze up. Did she know she was in there, and was she waiting for her to come out? Was she armed? Miranda didn't see anything on her, but you never know. What if someone was with her, hidden somewhere, and was armed? What then?

She frowned, feeling the same sensation that came over her when Veronica had shown up yesterday. If she needed to, could she do it here? Could she do it?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer.

"Williamson."

Birds, Bats, and General Flying Things
The grip they held was nice and tight.

Ilya reached out his hand to Stephanie in turn once he lessened his grip. She clearly hesitated, but after a beat her hand was raised to meet his. They were a group now. Things were going to reach some level of okay, she thought. They just needed to find everyone else. Dave was one, for instance.

Lana nodded, seeing the suggestion that they should get out.

She picked up her rifle, examining it a bit more. This was what they expected her to kill with. She didn't think that it was what was going to happen, though. Lana wasn't a killing sort. Nor, she suspected, Ilya or Stephanie.

After picking up her things, Lana slowly stepped in one direction, towards what she expected was the exit. She didn't want to lose them, not so soon. The birds still laid scattered about, causing Lana to raise her feet to avoid touching them. This was, however, to no avail. Her shoes still occasionally brushed against the corpses, giving her somewhat of a slight jump.

The sooner they got out of here, the better.

Once they were away from the aviary, Lana turned around and waited for Ilya and Stephanie.

She smiled. She knew that even in SOTF, there was still a chance of hope.

((Lana Torres continued in The Unlucky Clover Field))

Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice
((Miranda Millers continued from Last Days))

For the rest of her first day here, it was fairly uneventful. Miranda had simply stepped out of town, and found herself in a woodland that seemed to last forever. It was a quiet, almost lonely walk. Sometimes, Miranda would wonder if it was alright for her and Mara to go their own ways, but she would brush that aside.

As the sun slowly set across the horizon, Miranda had begun to panic. It had suddenly dawned on her that she needed shelter, and she had left the first set of buildings she could find that would protect her from the weather and wild animals, as well as god knew what else. It was probably safer to go with something sturdy for the time being. Worst was, Miranda had expected it to be the only sort of buildings on the island.

Luckily for her, that suspicion was proven incorrect.

By the time the sky had turned to a muted pink and purple, Miranda had found herself at another set of buildings on the other side of the woods. That was a good thing. She was going to be warm and as cozy as she could get here, provided that no one else was hiding out somewhere where she couldn't see them.

Her spear remained in her hand, just in case.

She stepped further into town, her footsteps becoming light and exhausted.

Like the last place she was, it was very silent and desolate, like something killed everyone off at once. And like the last place, it unnerved her. There was so much apparent destruction and abandonment, judging by the broken glass and streetlights.

Miranda paused when she saw what appeared to be a home that has caved in.

She didn't want to think about what happened to the last people who lived here.



Eventually, however, she found a house that fit her fancy. This one seemed large and spacey, and while it was clear it had seen past its glory days it had still kept that air to it. As she opened the door, a dusty smell hit her nose, causing her eyes to water and her face to briefly wrinkle up.

This was, essentially, going to be her home for the evening.

Miranda stepped further inside, looking around at her surroundings. Everything still seemed intact. There was still a couch and a coffee table, parked near a now-broken TV. Spiderwebs hung off a ceiling fan like some sort of string. Even with shoes on, the carpet seemed almost squishy.

A small look of disgust passed over her.

Really, though, it could be worse. It was probably better than laying down on the ground for the evening.

As she stepped gently on the stairs leading up, Miranda heard the wood creak underneath her. She... guessed creaky was good. That way, she would know if someone was coming up the steps. The first thing she saw when she reached the top was a pair of doors. It was safe to say that these were the bedrooms. With hesitation, she slowly opened the door closest to her.

The bed was still made, as if someone thought they were going to return to it one day. Miranda slid the bag off her shoulder, a loud thump accompanying it hitting the floor.

She didn't really have much thought to her other than resting.

So she closed the door behind her kicked off her shoes, and slid herself under the covers. They smelled weird and musty, but the bed was still as soft as it could get.

Miranda had placed the spear against the wall closest to her, but a bit of thought had popped through her mind. It wasn't close enough, in her opinion. Someone could take it, and use it against her while she was sleeping. She pulled herself back up, and reached for her weapon, sliding it underneath the sheets with her.

It was a weird feeling, holding a spear in a bed like some sort of teddy bear in an abandoned house you've never been before on some island where your classmates wanted to kill you. But even with that odd feeling, she closed her eyes.



When she opened her eyes again, the window giving a view outside had changed. The sky was no longer growing dark, but instead streaks of orange and yellow had replaced the colors before.

Untangling herself from her spear, Miranda sat up, rubbing her head.

And that's when she noticed the first thing about herself when she had woken up: she was hungry. She hadn't eaten much yesterday. Now, she felt the distinct ache of someone who was in need of breakfast.

Her first thought was, of course, to look through her bag to see what she had.

As she completely pulled herself off the bed, she saw that her bag was still there, in exactly the way she left it. With tired feet, she wandered over, and unzipped, looking for something she could eat. She had tried a bit of the energy bars they had given her yesterday, but a small nibble told her she would like them that much.

But there had to be other food, right?

Like the beef jerky she had packed for the trip. Miranda had just found it.

In spite of everything, a smile beamed across her face, as if she had just won the multi-million dollar lottery. And as far as Miranda was concerned, she had. Gleefully sitting back down on the bed, she opened it and took out a piece, tearing into it like some wild animal.

The beef jerky was so much better than those energy bars they had given them, in her opinion.

After a few bites, she closed the bag and placed it next to her. It was going to be saved for later.

Miranda then noticed the second thing about herself: she was filthy. Her once pristine white dress with its red polka dots had sand and dirt all over it. Her hands weren't much better, either; she could spot a bit of soil underneath her nails. It was clear that she had to wash up soon. Even in a death match she wasn't planning on looking this atrocious for too long.

She pulled herself off the bed again, and pulled the bag towards her.

Within a few minutes, Miranda had looked through what clothes she had with her, and laid them out onto the bed. She had seen that there was a walk-in bathroom, so she could investigate to see if the shower still worked. Miranda slid into it, carrying her travel sized bathroom supplies.

Like everything else, it was clear the bathroom had seen better days. A thin layer of orange and black mold had lined the linoleum, making her crinkle her face again. But she had to try it.

Gently, she turned the handle, and after a beat, a stream of water came out. Miranda placed her hand inside of it, checking for temperature. Well, it was clear there was still working water here. What they didn't have, though, was apparently heating. After a few minutes of this, the water wasn't getting any warmer.

Sighing, she pulled her hand out.

Like everything else here, she had to make do with what she had.

Miranda slid her clothes off, and stepped inside, her hand pulling the switch to make the water come through the showerhead. She flinched as the cold water hit her face.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, she turned off the water and dried herself as best as she could. Once she stepped out, she walked up to the mirror, and found her small toothbrush and toothpaste. As she brushed her teeth, still naked, she couldn't help but notice a red dot in the reflection.

It took her a while to realize what it was, causing her to spit out her toothpaste and turn around to get a better look. Her eyes squinted in the dim lighting, but she saw it; the red light was coming from a camera, its lens taking in everything.

Miranda frowned, feeling uncomfortable by this information.



Some time later, Miranda dressed herself, having slid a light pink blouse and a darker colored but matching skirt on. After brushing her brown hair and putting her hairband back on, she looked through her small makeup kit. It was odd, really. A eyeliner pencil was gone from it. And that wasn't even the only thing missing as well. Her iPod, her notebook full of sketches, her cellphone, anything electronic or could be used for writing had vanished. Electronic she could get, but writing?

After applying what makeup she had left, she placed the case back into her bag and picked up her spear, examining it.

It was a nice weapon, really. Of course, Miranda wasn't familiar with weapons, being a girl from Seattle who never had to handle one before. But she couldn't help but admire it a bit. The long wooden handle was already starting to feel disturbingly comfortable in her hand.

It was only a matter of time before she had to use it.

It was a tool she had to grow familiar with quickly.

As she examined it, she remembered how she had heard somewhere that soldiers or something like that would name their rifles, out of some kind of connection with their weapons she guessed. The idea popped into her head to name it something, even as a joke. But that seemed silly, didn't it? Like, something kind of... ridiculous. It was just a spear.

But she knew she had to use it, and soon. When, she didn't know, but soon.

Snapping her out of her thoughts was the loud sound of cracking, followed by a mechanical hum. Her head snapped up, looking for the source. At first, she had thought it was someone using some kind of weird weapon, but she realized quickly it was an intercom system starting up.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope those of you who slept got some good rest. The rest of you, well, at least you're alive to hear this. That's more than I can say for some of your classmates."

Miranda recognized the voice from the briefing, and shuddered a little bit at the memory. She hadn't thought of it since then, but she remembered how they executed Davidge in front of them.

The voice went on. Someone had jumped off a cliff, another apparently begged for their lives before being shot. Two more had been gunned down. Another one, this time a head injury. Someone fell off a balcony.

She didn't pick up the names from that, but she knew one thing: people were serious. They were going to kill each other, just like how she... no, she wasn't going to think about that.

The announcement ended with mentioning one of the killers would receive a new weapon, along with Coke and a burger. Just like how it started, it ended as quickly.

Miranda quietly sat on her bed with her spear still in her hands, thinking.

The one thought that passed through her head at that moment disturbed her, just like the thoughts that passed through her head when she had woken up on the beach had unnerved her. It still continued to frighten her about how selfish she could be.

But in the end, Miranda had realized that she could kill for a double cheeseburger right about now.

There ain't no more cowboys, only men with violent hearts
Alex stood her guard, feeling her temper rise even further through the roof.

A million things passed through her mind. A brief fantasy involving hitting Hansel with the mallet until he was barely recognizable was one of them. Never in her life had she been so... so... furious.

Her knuckles continued to whiten against the mallet's handles.

Carlon Wheeler had added his opinion in the form of...

It didn't matter?

She felt herself tense up even more as he seemed to whisper something as he crouched on the ground. What was he doing? The rage in her briefly and only somewhat subsided to make way for confusion. Praying? Maybe. Actually, yes, it was prayer, by the looks of it.

Alex looked between the two, waiting for an answer from Hansel.

He had pointed his gun on her, adding the feeling of nervousness in her. The sensation of having a gun pointed on you... wasn't a good one, to say the least.

Then he fired.

Even Alex, stubborn as she was, didn't want to stick around after that. She turned heel and began to run for it in the other direction.

However, her movement was caused by something that made her trip and cry out. Not thinking about what it was, she pulled herself off the ground, wincing as she did so. Her ankle was hurt, but she didn't want to think about what caused it. Alex's mind was in a flurry, and she knew what it was, but in her state of panic she didn't want to think about it.

Even with her injury, once she got up on her feet with some difficulty she attempted to flee, her leg dragging behind her and her face contorting in pain with each step.

There were a few droplets of blood behind her.

((Alex Ripley continued elsewhere))

Bayview Brigade
I was hoping that they would make all the students' bodies into hamburger for their next BBQ luncheon. Er, the bodies that can still be made into hamburger, that is.

Question: Forgive me, since I'm not super-familiar with the topic, but would Mizore get the estate legally? Raidon did write down that he wanted her to inherit it and it was the closest he could get to having it be legal, but would the law acknowledge this, for those of you familiar with this sort of thing? Sorry, I just need something clarified.

I've been thinking of tossing someone in. I kind of want in on this. XD

Birds, Bats, and General Flying Things
It seemed to take a beat for Ilya to get an idea of what she was referring to. But he quickly caught on, and groaned. It seemed odd that they would take her hearing aids, now that she thought of it. Perhaps they were setting her up to fail on purpose, for whatever reason. Or perhaps it was somehow an "advantage", which she doubted.

In any case, she was without them, and would have to make do for a while. Surely she could write something down if she needed to. Or just make sure to watch body language closely. Either way. Now that she had calmed down a bit, it wasn't the end of the world that her hearing aids were currently missing. It was just a drawback. There were probably still ways of getting about, right?

Ilya's statement, from what she got of it, did imply they took other things, though. Lana hadn't looked through her bag much yet to see if they took anything else. If they did take anything else from her, she wasn't going to be too happy about that.

He was now offering to team up.

Lana looked between Stephanie and Ilya, back and forth, seeing the former tend to her hand. It was probably a good idea, really. It would mean that the three of them would be safe, and would have safety in numbers. A "buddy system", if you will.

She reached out for Ilya's extended hand, and briefly looked at Stephanie to get her opinion.

"Stephanie?"