"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Official V6 Away Thread
Handler: Dannyrulx
Dates Away: 7th October 2016- 16th October 2016
Days Away: 9 Days
Reason for Away: Mock Exams/Heavy Schoolwork load
Characters: William McKinley, Hannah Kendrickstone, Maria Cucinotta

I'll probably be back a bit earlier, but I want to have some wiggle room.

I'm covered in beads!
That is absolutely adorable.
If I could sort out my freakin' Paypal I would buy it. but alas alack I cannot.

a d o p t i o n
Damn. I was getting to like 'ya Cicada.

I'll need to PM whoever's adopting Irene for various reasons.

Survival Strategy
((Maria Cucinotta continued elsewhere))

Survival Strategy
Maria edged into the helicopter, one feet on the edge of the metal, then two. The stucture shifted and groaned as she stepped on it, and she froze.

As slowly as possible, she inched her way across the floor until she reached the bundle of rope hanging out of a locker. Carefully, she kneeled down to take it out, then froze as the chopper adjusted itself. Carefully standing back up, she reached for the rope without bending over. One finger slipped inside the loop, then another one. It was like playing a game of pick-up sticks, except pick-up sticks that could end in your death.

As she pulled it out, the entire chopper groaned and turned, sending a blanket spinning out into the sea. Panicking, she scooped up the thermos flask and dashed across the desk, practically jumping onto Caleb.
"That."
"Was."
"The most impossibly fucking scary fucking thing that i've ever fucking done."
"I'm pretty sure I've just about used up my allotment of fear, forever."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH
He...
He was gone.
Will's ears still rung from the last gunshot, and gingerly pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the bullets as he did so.

One loaded.
Two loaded.
Three loaded.
Four loaded.
Five loaded.
Six loaded.

He spun the cylinder once more for good luck and walked over to the stack of pallets, collapsed and scattered all over the floor, and all over Rea's body. Carefully, he lifted them up, one by one, until she was revealed.

He deflated entirley, putting the gun back in his pocket as he looked at the corpse of the girl he had loved. He racked his brain for something appropriate to say, anything appropriate to say, and came up with a bible verse. Psalm 23 to be exact:

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

There was a girl. A living one. He didn't really know her to be honest, hadn't known a lot of people. He calmly picked the body up in a bridal carry, and started to walk out of the storehouse, tears spilling downn his face.
"I'm going to find your friend you know."
"I'm going to find him, and then i'm going to kill him, and then i'm going to win this fucking thing, go home and drink myself to death, because what the fuck else am I going to do?"

With that, he walked out.

((WIll McKinley continued elsewhere.)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH
Shit, shit shit.
Will's back hit the ground with a thump and he grunted in pain. In front of him, Rea's murderer dashed away. Straight line. He raised the revolver and sighted him, knowing that all he needed to would be to squeeze the trigger and...
click
Wait, what? He had been positive there was one bullet left in the chamber. There had been, hadn't there? Yeah, there had, so...
Oh. The cylinder had been spun. The bullet could be fucking anywhere in the next five pulls of the trigger. Fuck that.
He opened his other palm where the bullets had been, ready to slot them in, only to see his hand empty.
"FUCK!" Did life really not want this bastard dead? He looked around and saw the bullets under one of the pallets, copper glinting in the light. He couldn't reach them, no way.
He placed one hand over the hammer of the revolver and yanked it backwards, Clint Eastwood style.
Click.
Click
Click.

"I'm gonna ask you a question," he deapdanned.
"Do you feel... Lucky, punk?"