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The Shape
It was a cold night in the asylum, even colder since Jon left his shirt on Barry's corpse.

He couldn't believe Alvaro did that... What was wrong with him? Why? They only wanted to help, he just... he just couldn't believe it.

He hadn't found anyone since then.


He was alone.

It was as if the entire island died in one night.

Not a voice, not a soul.

This type of quiet was wrong. It wasn't quiet in the sense he could only hear his own breathing, or his own footsteps, he couldn't even hear that. He couldn't hear his own heartbeat, or anything. it was as if he'd gone deaf.

Everything was still, nothing moved in the slightest. If Jon stood still, it felt as though he was looking at a painting, or a photograph.

Footsteps stirred behind him. It should have been a relief, but something had risen in his chest. This wasn't any type of fear he had felt before. It was something worse, something inhuman. It was the real definition of terror, it was the most primal fear one could experience.

Jon turned around to look at the directions the footsteps were coming from. He opened his mouth to call out at it, but no sound came out.

The footsteps grew louder, they inched closer. Jon could only see the shape of a creature pursuing him.

He backed away slowly at first. The Shape had only walked towards him, it didn't run, it didn't jog.

It just walked.

Jon ran.

Corridor after corridor he ran, the asylum becoming a maze.

At this point, Jonathan started screaming for help. No one would hear him of course, he couldn't even hear himself. His feet didn't even make a sound as they hit the ground running.

He turned the next corner, and The Shape was down the hall in front of him, more visible than a silhouette this time. What little he could see of it's face was grotesque, like a parody of a smiling old man, with warped, exaggerated features. The Shape walked closer still.

Jon turned the other way and ran again. His breathing felt heavy, and his peripherals blurred. Fire was running up his throat by now, all though he couldn't hear it, he could feel it.

He turned the next corner and The Shape was right in front of him now, reaching out at him. Jon tried to turn around, but another one was right there behind him.

Jon fought back, swinging his arms every which way, but it didn't matter, The Shapes overpowered him, and held him by the arms. Jon called out in protest, he tried to scream, he tried threatening, he tried pleading. No sound came out.

The Shapes dragged him down the halls, where distant screams started to become louder, closer.

Jon looked left and right at the doors, and saw all manners of horrors.

They were all his classmates, all mutilated. All dead, well, they should be, but they weren't. Their bodies moved to the best of their abilities, screams and moans of pain coming from the ravaged piles of meat.

One lay against the wall, his face mangled, his lower jaw was hanging halfway on his face as parts of it sloughed off, one arm split in two reaching out of the bars. Another was a figure lying in the prison's bed, covered in a blood stained sheet, flailing around as it constricted around him, suffocating him. Next door down, there was a girl with her head chopped off at the jaw, gurgling pitifully as it's eyes darted around in fear and pain.

A figure of warped limbs cracked it's ways towards it's bars inhumanely fast, begging, pleading for help. It's neck twisted and turned, snapping around as it looked at Jon. Jon recognized him.

The next door was two in a room, perpetually killing each other. The first was a shirtless figure with a half melted face around the eye, being stabbed through by a man in bloodstained hunting attire. He stole the blade from the man's hands, and began slashing back at him. From the damage on the both of them, this has been happening for a while.

Gunshots went off in the distance as screaming increased. Jon panicked and flailed, but to no avail. He saw Amanda walk up to one of the bars, covered in bullet holes, the most notable was an exit wound where her nose used to be. She stared at Jon with absolute hatred.

Darius was looking at him from his cage next, an entire corner of his skull was blown off. He was smashing his head against the bars, brains leaking out of him, reaching his arms out at Jon. Michael was next, his mouth split wide open, his tongue drooping down unnaturally low. His eyes trailed towards Jon's, as if to say, "You're in a world of shit now, buddy..."

As Jon was being dragged to the solitary confinement rooms, the area he woke up, he heard sobbing.

He saw Brendan in the corner of the room, curled up crying to himself before the door slammed shut. Jon was thrown into the room next to him.

The door slammed shut, and everything was just dark. All Jon could hear was the sobbing in the next room. There was the sounds of something shifting, and the sobbing stopped, as if Brendan realized something was in there moving.

The next thing Jon heard was tearing and screaming, then... silence.

It was silent once more. It was all black.

Not lights. No sound. Nothing.

Jon felt around the ground around him tremble as the wall behind him began to morph. He looked behind him, and saw a wall of flesh, faces and arms staring back.

He woke up just before he was pulled into it.

(( Jonathan Gulley continued from We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates))

Jon sat up unaware of what had happened at first. He was cold, he was sweating, and he was shaking. He had awakened in the room it all started. His skull was throbbing, and it felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself alive.

He wondered if everything that had happened up to this point was a premonition, and that he had a second chance to change things. It didn't take but one look into the mirror, and a view of his fresh bandages and now covered eye to tell him otherwise. Everything happened, and there was no way he could change that.

The dead were still dead.

His stomach growled, practically pointing a knife at his throat telling him that it'd eat his kidney if he didn't feed it soon.

The first thing he did was open the bag with him, pull out an energy bar, and scarf it down in as few bites as possible. He helped it down with half a bottle of water.

He grabbed his supplies and walked out the room, remembering what he did last night. After he left Brendan, he went here and patched himself up. A horrible stench filled Jon's nostrils, as he looked at a room down the hall.

He also found what remained of Conrad. That was fun.

He wasn't sure what else to do at this point, he honestly didn't think he'd live this far. He didn't want to either, but that was another issue he had to deal with. From what little sunlight that got into the halls, he knew it was around morning time, and he should hear the announcements soon.

He should hear his own name.

Until then, he didn't know what to do.

Hell, even after then, he didn't know what he was going to do.

He looked at the blood stained mask halfway hanging out of his coat pocket. The damn thing was starting to piss him off, but for some reason, he felt as though he couldn't part with it.

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
Jon watched Brendan's face crack and break apart at the line. He watched him fall apart. He saw him fall to the floor, laughing, then sobbing.

He took a moment to lower the gun, to look around. The world spun when he stood still, it spun faster when he turned. Amanda's corpse, the treelines, the docks and water, Michael, Brendan's sobbing form. He had to look at everything around him, to really take it in.

Was this real?

This didn't feel real.

It wasn't what he expected.

You killed someone Jon. Someone who saved your life. You didn't want it then, but it still happened. It should've been Brendan down there, but it's not.

Amanda gave you a second chance, and what'd you do with it?

Weren't you even paying attention to what Michael told you?

It wasn't worth it, none of it was. You could've done anything with that chance.

Everything that's happened since then, that was on you.

Brendan made mistakes, you made mistakes.

If you shoot him now, you better be prepared to eat the barrel too. Wasn't that what you wanted in the first place? That's all you had to go on, it was your only purpose at this point. From the look of it, Brendan would want it too. Neither of you really deserved it though. It would be too easy for the likes of you both.

He aimed the barrel towards Brendan's head, it would be quick. Maybe not clean, but it wouldn't hurt. Not like Amanda had.

His eye trailed back to Amanda.

Wrong place, wrong time. That's all that amounted from her death. What'd she get in return for this?

Did she deserve anything for this? You really think you deserve to get out of it the easy way, Jon?

You've hurt people. You've killed someone. When the announcements come in, you'll have hurt more. The people back home were watching. The dead were watching.

Jon breathed in.

"Y'know what Michael told me? He told me, back when we thought he killed Alex, that he didn't... he didn't feel anything good coming from doing this. It was pointless, nothing came from it. I didn't believe him, and I tried to go after Alex. He nearly killed me, well, for a while, he had killed me. While I was out, I realized that's what I really wanted."

He pointed the barrel to Amanda's corpse.

"She saved my life. Look at how I repaid her."

He pointed the barrel back to Brendan.

"It was supposed to be you there, not her. That was my mistake. I wanted blood, and I got it. Now what?"

Jon himself started to cry.

"He was right. I didn't believe him and he was right."

He finally lowered the gun, and crouched next to Brendan.

"I... I came to kill someone, and I did. I'm not going to do it again. There's... no point. Amanda died in your place, and that was my mistake. I have to live with that, and because of that you get to."

Jon planned on turning around right then and there, but he stopped when he realized his bag wasn't on him anymore. It must've fell off when he rolled down the hill.

He grabbed Amanda's bag in it's place, picking up his mask while he was there.

"I hope I never have to see you again, Brendan."

As he walked away he stopped by Michael's body.

He knelt by and closed the corpse's eyes.

He realized he still didn't have anything to cover him with.

There was another thing tugging at him however.

If he didn't want to spill anymore blood, then why did he take the bag with the ammo? Why did he take the mask?

((Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere.))

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
Jon raised the barrel towards Brendan's head. He still didn't pull the trigger, not yet.

"Did you even know the girl you saved?"

Maybe... Maybe Brendan wasn't malicious, but now it didn't matter. What he had done was done. What Jon had done is done.

Oh God, I just killed someone...

He looked towards Amanda's corpse. No way she wasn't. Too many holes. Too much red. You did that Jon. That was supposed to be Brendan.

He looked back to Brendan, he didn't wait for an answer.

"It was Nancy, Brendan. Nancy Kyle."

He didn't want to look at the other corpse. The one still watching him. All he could do was tilt his head in that direction, keeping his eye contact away from him.

"He told me, before Alex happened."

He looked Brendan in the eyes once more.

"Why'd you run away from Danny? Couldn't have been death was so scary, you seemed to cause it pretty easily."

Jon felt his socket twitch in the place of tear drops, that side of his skull throbbing.

"I just wanna know that. Why is it so easy for you?"

Jon tried his hardest not to look at what remained of Amanda.

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
There was something wrong about this. Those last words.

Was Jonathan the one in the wrong here? Or was it just Brendan fucking with him.

He was right here, Jon could shoot him right now. He wanted to. After he realized how much he's been betrayed by him, he wanted to.

Even then, he still remembered that Brendan was the one who was waiting for him after what happened to Barry. Jon didn't even have a shirt at that point, and Brendan gave him his- No, No! He's just fucking with you! Don't fall for it, don't listen!

He left to kill Jerry remember? Nancy got away because of him, she killed so many, hurt many more.

He kept the barrel pointed at Brendan, though it was now shakier as he removed his hand from the barrel, now holding it with one hand. The other reached back and pulled Brendan's hood off the mask. The hand reached up and tore the plastic prison away from his skull.

He wanted Brendan to see what happened to him. The mass of bandages and blood. The now missing eye he had. It was kind of funny in the morbid sense, Brendan got to see it before Jon did. Would Jon even have the time to treat it, or was he just going to bleed out after this? His remaining eye gazed into Brendan's as his hand returned to the barrel.

"S...Say that again, one more time."

He wanted to know, he had to. He wanted to see if Brendan was really lying to him this time.

He wanted Brendan to look him in the eyes. One red, practically gone, one starting to turn pink...

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
It was kind of funny how scared Brendan was. He used to tower over Jon, back when he could pretend he was with Jon.

Here he was, laying on the ground, begging Jon not to kill him. He was afraid of him for once. The power was shifted, and Jon wasn't that kid who was so easily taken advantage of.

Jon didn't speak anymore as he stared at Brendan.

He went through everything he's done, trying to pick *one* of the things he's done, like he didn't realize that it was nearly all of it.

Was it when I killed people? Or when I ran away?

Gee, I don't fucking know... If you have to ask the damn question in the first place that should tell you something shouldn't it?!

Shouldn't it?

Jon slowly nodded his head up and down at everything Brendan said, before something stopped him.

He mentioned him. Jon froze.

Brendan knew he was twisting the knife now, he was trying to throw Jon off.

Jon wanted to look over to his left, to see him one more time before he pulled the trigger for him. He couldn't, Brendan would get away if he did. That's why he said that, he said that to get Jon to make a mistake, to hesitate.

The whole thing was all lies with no regrets, it was insults veiled as condolences.

The cherry on top was the last question he asked. Like the other questions, he asked it like he didn't know the answer, when it was clear, very clear he knew.

Jon nodded his head once more.



"You done yet?"

Jon moved the barrel across Brendan's form, as if trying to pick a spot to shoot. Should he just put one in his head and get it over with? Should he put one in his gut so Brendan had more time to think about why he's here in the first place?

Brendan didn't answer him.

"I said are you fucking done yet?!"

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates

He hated that look Brendan was giving him.

He didn't have to do this...

Exactly. He didn't have to do this, he chose to. Brendan put him all through this, now it was Jon's time to turn it around. This was Jon's way of giving himself a choice again.

"Don't beg."

He locked his eye to Brendan's.

Jon was the one in control now, he wasn't the pawn anymore. He wasn't a tool to Darius, and he wasn't going to be Brendan's anymore. He won't be dragged around like a puppet anymore. He won't let them toy with him anymore.

He had shot Amanda, not once, not twice, more than that. He could do it again, and he would do it again, just like everyone else would do the same to him, just like Amanda shot him.

"You don't have the right to beg anymore, you know what you did!"

Jon found himself suddenly screaming. He should just shoot Brendan now, it wasn't smart to do this, but he wanted to hear Brendan say it himself first.

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
Jon couldn't do anything but watch as everything faded away from him.

It's the worst feeling in the world, to realize you never really had a choice at all.

Well that wasn't completely true.

Barry saved him. Barry wanted to help everyone, as did Jon. They chose to do that, they tried to.

After Barry died, he became nothing more than a pawn.

He was only a pawn to Darius, he was only a pawn to Brendan... He found the one person he actually wanted to see, and he was actually given a choice again. Jon stayed with him because the choice sounded nice, it could've been peaceful. They should've drowned at the docks that night.

Then that was taken away, and then he chose to get revenge.

That choice was removed from him by Michael's killer.

He found Michael again on the other side, he chose to stay with him, he didn't want to be here anymore.

That choice was taken away by the same person that shot him just now.

She's the one who wanted him to live, and here she was, shooting him for Brendan.


Jon made another choice, he chose to shoot at Brendan, he chose to get him to chase him. He thought he was the one leading the ambush, but it was all in reverse.

In a way, Jon knew he deserved this. With all the choices his second chance granted him, this was the one he chose, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

He closed his remaining eye, hoping the pain would cease, him leaving with it.

It didn't. It just started throbbing.

It hurt worse the more he laid there.

When you're dying, it's supposed to stop hurting, not hurt worse, and that's when Jon realized it. He wasn't dying.

His eye trailed from the body of his partner to the two laying down the hill nearby.

Jon tried to get up, to shoot them with his revolver. It was out of his hand and he didn't know where it was.

He slowly started flopping down the hill, it was pathetic in a sense, you could've been forgiven for thinking it was comedic even. It was like a fish out of water, his limbs felt like jello.

The static slowly left his body as he forced his way down there. The pain wasn't subsiding, but it was getting overshadowed by something else.

Anticipation, anger? Jon didn't know. Energy.

That's what it felt like.

He tried to help people, but he just wasn't good at it.

They wouldn't let him even if he could.

Maybe... just maybe, he wasn't here to help people.

He was close enough now...

Jon lurched forward, he shot up. His arms gripped Amanda's rifle, yanking it away from behind her.


She didn't even get a chance to turn around before the trigger was pulled.


She did that time.



She finally hit the ground. The barrel was pointed towards her now prone body.


Jon's head turned to look at Alessio, he was running away, too far to shoot from here.

He looked back towards Amanda and Brendan.

He shifted the barrel from the now red-stained girl and shifted it towards the one who caused him so much pain...

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Don't tell me wot 2 do m8.

Mass Effect Mafia Sign Up Thread
Ehhhh. fahkeet.

Redshirt. Male.

We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
The tree practically exploded around Jon as he took cover.

What the fuck was that?!

Jon peeked around the side and saw Alessio standing there with a new shotgun.

Fuck! Just his luck, first Alex comes back to life to kill Michael, now Al's back with a gun, hell even Jon came back! Hell of a time for death to take a fucking lunch break, shit!

Jon fired back at Al before taking cover, and reloading his gun.

He wasn't here for this shit, it was supposed to be one on one, where the fuck was Brendan?!

He looked around, then saw him lying down in the ground, hiding again.

Was this some sort of trap? Screw it.

Jon dipped back into the tree lines, ducking out of Al's point of view.

If this was a trap, and he was going to die anyways, he might as well make sure Brendan didn't get to live to do this to someone else.

He got close, running up the hill towards Brendan, he was almost point blank.

If he hadn't suffered from tunnel vision, he would have saw what was going to happen next.

His left ear started ringing, and Jon's body was forced into a nearby tree, his head smashing into the side of it.

He blinked, and he knew something was wrong the moment he lurched forward. Someting was wrong. Really wrong. Everything looked funny, something was different but he didn't know what.

Blood, lots of it, pouring down. He couldn't find his hand for a moment, he looked for the trail of blood before he found it, and tracked where it was moving.

His hand moved up, feeling the blood pour between his fingers as he raised it to the source.

His mask. The eyehole. Blood. He didn't feel it. He couldn't see from that side.

Jon stumbled back, his hand reaching for his face as his body went into subtle convulsions.

His hand felt around that side before it felt something odd... stuck to the cheek of the mask. It stuck to his glove as he pulled his hand back to look, but it slid off before he got a good chance to see what it was.

Dizzyness overtook Jon again, he tried to lean his head back, his hand tried to block the hole the blood was leaking through, but he lost his footing, and rolled down the other side of the hill.

On the way down he caught a glimpse of the one who shot him, but his eye focused on something else.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the face of a familiar corpse staring back at him.

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We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Classmates
(( Jonathan Gulley continued from We Are Monsters ))

This wasn't good. Was Brendan still following him?

Shit... he needed to reload, he needed to find somewhere to lay low.

It wasn't a good idea to sprint halfway across the island in a rubber mask, hoodie, and a leather jacket.

He ducked behind a tree and looked around. Brendan wasn't anywhere around right now, he had his chance. He pulled his mask up away from his mouth so he could breath fresh air again. The scent of blood, sweat, plastic, and his own breath wasn't a good combination.

Jon began loading the revolver, putting in the 4 shots he didn't manage to drop inside it.

He reached into the bag and counted how many was left. He guessed he had at least... 10 shots left.

He grabbed two more bullets and filled the revolver. That would be enough for now.

He continued to look around, Brendan should be coming any time now.

Wait... Jon looked behind him again.

Brendan had somehow overtaken him and got in front of him during the chase.

All alone.

He slowly snuck in closer, revolver in hand.


Jon fired his first shot, and began moving to another location, ducking behind trees.

He peeked around the corner of it and fired two more shots.

If it weren't for the mask blocking his peripheral vision, he might've noticed Al and Amanda.

We Are Monsters
(( Also posting ahead due to thread raisins))

It had to be this.


After everything he's done, Brendan's found some way to sabotage it, ruin it.


There wasn't a chance to escape, not anymore.


Not like it mattered, anyone who deserved to escape was dead anyways, everyone else was already killers right?


Can't blame them, it's how they lived to get this far. Might as well start now. Maybe he could still change something if he won?

He lined up his sights, Brendan was getting closer. He dodged around the last bullets, or Jon simply wasn't that good of a shot.

He couldn't miss this one.



Brendan moved his way up towards the tree lines, Jon turned around almost immediately.

Shit he forgot to reload after shooting Al, fucking damnit!

Jon juked left and right through trees. As he was sprinting, he reached into his bag and pulled out some more ammo for the revolv--


Ears ringing, Jon smashed into the ground. Bullets clattered to the ground.

You fucking idiot you ran into a tree!

Jon regained his grip on the revolver and looked around for the bullets. Maybe he had time to reload, he could put em in and end this shit right here and now.

He scrambled, picking up each bullet he could.

He only got to four before Brendan appeared in view.

He heard Brendan yell at him before he decided to get up and sprint off again.

He couldn't reload here, Brendan wouldn't give him the chance, and he couldn't use the machete here, otherwise another Alex situation would happen, or Brendan's group would show up to help.

They weren't with him yet...

As Jon sprinted off, he took quick looks behind him to see if Brendan was still there.

He was.

He was also alone.

Maybe Jon might get him after all.

(( Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere.))

We Are Monsters
Jon watched the group below.

What would he do?

What else could he do?

He... after everything he did. Why'd it have to be so hard. It wasn't hard to shoot Al like that, to just drop him. Why was he having troubles now?

Do it! Pull the trigger, shoot him already!

Jon stared at the reflective metal of the revolver. He stared at the form in the distance, the one he chose.

Pull the trigger. Do it now!

End it. End him.

What in the fuck was he doing.

Jon lowered the gun and turned around, trudging back behind the trees. He sat down, he had to take off the mask, it was choking him. He needed fresh air.

His hands grasped at the nylon wrapping around his head, peeling it off. He felt sick, he leaned to the side and wretched.

Nothing but spit and stomach pains came out.

This was fucked up, he was fucked up! He couldn't do this... He should just go down there, just... talk to him.

He hadn't talked to anyone in a whole day, and he was already losing it.

God, what would Michael think? Barry?

Yeah, he should... he had to just... Talk.

Just talk.

He grabbed the mask and the gun.

That's what he'd do then, he'd go down there, and he'd talk.

He turned back around and walked past the tree he was hiding behind.

Then he saw her.

The girl who tried to jump him, the one who was playing the bait game with Al. The one with the severed head.

She was with Brendan.

The realization hit him like the floor when Alex caught him. It didn't matter what he tried to rationalize, it didn't matter that he tried to help. No matter which way he looked at it, Brendan was with people who tried to hurt him. Brendan helped the people who killed so many others.

Brendan was one of them now, and the only way to really win this was to be like him. If Jon really wanted a chance to change things...

Jon would have to be one of them.

Jon put the mask back on.

He raised the revolver.

He fired.

We Are Monsters
((Jonathan Gulley continued from Let it Happen ))

Jonathan hobbled along just outside the shore, creeping along in the tree lines.

As he moved closer to the shore, he saw silhouettes in the distance. He moved closer and realized he recognized them.

He recognized HIM.

He didn't step any closer, not yet.

He could shoot Brendan from here, maybe. If he had a rifle it would probably be easier. He wasn't too sure if he could do it with the revolver or not.

He contemplated just walking down there and doing it point blank, and letting whatever happens next happen.

He contemplated just opening fire on them right then and there, not caring who he hit or missed.

He contemplated shooting at Brendan, then leaving. If it didn't work that time, he could try again later.

He contemplated just blowing his own brains out onto Brendan just so he knew how he really felt.

Jonathan Gulley stared out at the group from the trees. That's all he did.

He stood, and he stared.

Let it Happen
((Jonathan Gulley continued from 70's Horror Movies lll))

The sun was rising by the time Jon found a place to sleep.

That place being underneath a bridge. Yeah... Smooth Jon... Real Smooth.

He sat down by the lake leading out into the ocean.

Did he really just do that?

He shot someone, he actually did it. Even worse, it was easy. He just pointed, and pulled the trigger. Alessio fell down, probably bled to death.

He did it. It wasn't some hallucination. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't delirious from his head wound. He looked Al right in the eyes and did it. Watched him fall and scream like that one dude at the end of Django Unchained. He aimed... a little bit higher then where that guy got hit, but it was still the same idea.

It wasn't like Alex. He didn't have a reason for it. He couldn't say it was self-defense at that point, Alessio had given up. No, it was an execution. He executed Al.

Was that how everyone else felt when they did it? Nothing? Or did they enjoy it?

No, couldn't have been it. Even Alvaro had knew he did something wrong when he killed Barry. He looked like he had regretted it instantly. He-... Jon would've liked to talked to Alvaro one last time, to just ask. Why? Why Barry?

Why couldn't it have been him?


Oh shit... What would Barry think. After what he did, after what he promised.

He let everyone down. There wasn't getting around that. Yet he was the one that lived. After everything, what happened to his friends?

Michael's sins caught up to him, Darius died alone, and Barry... wrong place wrong time.

What about you Jon, how will it end?

Crumpled on the floor, hot gun in head, stupid fucking mask over your face?

Why are you even wearing it? You think it's just going to make everything easier? It's not really you, it's some alter-ego. A week on some shitty island and you've got an imaginary friend that kills people now? Is that it?

Jon was exhausted. He should've gotten to sleep, but he didn't want to see it again. He didn't want to see them.

He didn't want to dream anymore, because every time he did, everything was okay, until something reminded him, then it all fell apart. As much as he wanted some form of relief, he knew the aftermath wasn't worth it. He felt little bits of him being eaten away every time he woke up.

The announcements drawn him from his thoughts.

Two- three things got his attention.

Alba Reyes, the one who promised to help, but left with Brendan had killed. Help. Yeah. Fuck you too. You fucking liar, you did this to me, you and lying little Brendan. Too scared to see a body? Apparently not, you made them so easy, you hypocrites. You liars, you promise-

Isabel Ramirez had died. Multiple people did it. Couldn't have happened to a better person. You're why we don't deserve to go home. I hope that happens again to people like you.

Amanda Tan got the Best Kill Award... That was... he didn't know how to feel about it. He should be happy for her, but... he'd wished she would've let him die. It would have been better that way.

The good news should have outweighed the bad, but that little tidbit of bad news, it opened a lot of personal things for him. One was the realization that he was lied too, it wasn't some sort of onset paranoia. Brendan had lied to him, Alba had lied to him. They left together, they murdered together.

It opened up other realizations as well.

Brendan Harte saved Nancy Kyle.

Brendan Harte left after Jon told him about the plan at the radio tower.

Nancy Kyle was waiting there... She'd already killed two others there, two others that Darius could have told.

Brendan was with Nancy the entire time. That's... that's why he didn't show up anymore after that! He expected her to kill him!

He... he was going crazy. He felt it, he knew it. Nothing made sense, but that's when it all made the most sense.

Why would Brendan want to help him? He was friends... more than that with someone Brendan hated. Maybe... Maybe that's why Alvaro did what he did to Barry.

Maybe... that was it. Brendan wanted to hurt Jon. It was... systematic. Too coincidental... it was- No. No! That's fucking stupid! It wasn't that! It had to be something else.

Brendan helped Nancy, he murdered Larkin, he murdered Bernadette. Alba was with him, she murdered Kaitlin. Nancy was saved by him... she killed countless.

There it was then...

The idea that made the most sense. Brendan had lost hope, he was afraid of going home. He sabotaged the escape plan, because he was afraid of owning up to his own actions. He was a coward... he wanted to stay here on this island, he didn't want to go back, and he... he didn't care who got in his way.

Brendan... he- it didn't make any sense... None of it did.

It didn't matter though, did it. It was his fault. Jon only wanted to help people, and look what happened to him. He only wanted closure when he realized he couldn't do that, look what happened to him. He wanted...release. Look what happened to him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that he lost everything, even after giving all he had, and it wasn't fair that Brendan could just- could just piss everything away a-and th-thrive! Like he was enjoying it!

Brendan had taken everything away from him, and all Jon got in return was his cheap ass hoodie!

No more...

Jon was done with this.

Brendan took everything he had, intentional or not. It didn't matter anymore, the details didn't matter. It was all his fault, no amount of atoning would change it!

Brendan had taken everyone he cared about, wasted his time, taken his chances for doing something right, and nearly got him killed.

Jon wouldn't have any more of this shit, he was going to take it all back.

He was going to even the odds.

He didn't want to kill Brendan. He wanted to hurt him. Just like he had been hurt by him.

He wanted everything, he wanted it all. He wanted Brendan to know what he did.

He wanted Brendan to regret.

And regret he will.

(( Jonathan Gulley Continued Elsewhere.))

V6 Character Theme Music
So, since I didn't post in the first thread, I'll just post both themes here. The top's the beginning of V6, bottom's the V6 halfway point.

Michael Crowe:

Carpenter Brut- Anarchy Road

Kino-Gruppa Krovi

Jonathan Gulley:


LifeHouse-Sick Cycle Carousel

Plus bonus pregame themes I guess...

Michael Crowe:

A Flock of Seagulls- Space Age Love Song

Jonathan Gulley:

Jimmy Eat World - Just Tonight

70's Horror Movies III: Swooooooooord Caaaaaaaaaaane
Al continued talking. It started with a question, then a stupid declaration.

Jon wouldn't tell him who he was. He should've known by now, mask or not.

"I'd rather be...home."

That was it? That was his excuse. Of everything he has to say, this was it. This was why he did what he did, why he killed.

"I'd rather be...home."

Jon was infuriated. He took in a deep breath.

"Fine... Go home."


The room was enveloped in a bright flash of light, and Alessio dropped to the floor, wailing. The scent of gunsmoke filled his nostrils as he stood there, barrel still hot. Al deserved this.

Jon watched Al writhe around for a few moments, before pocketing the gun and turning around.

He... did it.

He wasn't sure how he felt about finally shooting someone, but he did it.

Jon opened the door and walked outside. He took his mask off once he closed the door behind him.

He felt terrified to be honest, but it wasn't for the reasons you'd expect.

He walked towards the forest, disappearing into it.

No, the real reason he was terrified was because he felt nothing. When he shot Alessio, the only thing he really felt in that moment was the recoil.

He felt nothing, and that was what terrified him the most.

(( Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere ))

70's Horror Movies III: Swooooooooord Caaaaaaaaaaane
Jon got him, now it was time to finish this.

He watched Al clamber up and then...

Jon didn't want to finish this. Al begged... he actually begged. He knew he shouldn't fall for it, but it all felt wrong. Even if it was a ruse, something about killing someone so defenseless, so pathetic just didn't feel right. He wasn't like the others, he didn't play that way.

And then Al pulled out a gun, and stared right at him.

Jon stood still, frozen. He waited for it, after all the times Al's refused to hesitate, he wouldn't with this. Jon knew it was all over for him.

Jon waited...

and waited...

and waited...

Al didn't shoot. Was this his idea of mercy? Was he actually trying to become a better person? Was he actually trying to help someone?

Jon had to find out.

He reached into his gun and slowly, methodically, pulled out his own gun; Will's gun.

He cocked the hammer back, and pointed it at Al.

He hovered the barrel of the gun back and forth across the figure on the other side of the room.

He still wasn't shot. He should have been.

Jon realized Al wasn't trying to avoid killing or trying to protect anyone.

He knew he was losing, he wanted Jon to leave so he could live. He wouldn't hesitate to cut him apart if he was on the ground, if he was defenseless, he saw that back at the bar. Al was just afraid of getting a little bit hurt, that's all.

Jon levered the gun towards Al's midsection.

Alessio was the worst kind of person. He wouldn't even look you in the eyes if he decided to kill you, Jon should've seen that one right away. Those few words he spoke, the ones that made Jon think he'd reformed? All garbage, all lies. He didn't really care, and he didn't really change. That bullshit line of his was just to throw Jon off, to confuse him before he got the drop on him.

He should do it.

He should pull the trigger and save everyone the suffering of letting this little careless selfish creep live. Al would've done it to him if the roles were reversed. Al would've done it to anyone, everyone if he could. Alessio cared about no one but himself, he had no dignity, he threw it all out the window to kill.

Do it.

He didn't say a word, he just stared down Al.

Do it!

70's Horror Movies III: Swooooooooord Caaaaaaaaaaane
Alessio fell to the ground with a thud, raising his sword in retaliation. Jon hopped back, picking up his own machete to bring it down on Al.


Metal clashed against metal as Al's shamshir blocked Jon's machete.


Blade smashed against blade again.


Alessio rolled out of the way, metal clashed against ground. He turned and kicked Jon in the back of his knee, forcing him to stumble.

Al swung his sword again, and Jon tried to block. Metal clashed against metal as Jon's arm was swung back from the force of it.

Jon stumbled back and Al swung again.