Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Viewing Single Post From: Flowerhead
Pigeon Army
Member Avatar
is the Soul Machine.
[ *  *  * ]
So, um, you ever, um, been in a crash?

((B108 Begin))

Ma'afu Tuigamala had been trekking across a stump-pocked landscape of rolling hills for what seemed like hours. He'd woken up on top of a pyramid of logs, for some reason, and after painfully stumbling down them, he wasn't in the best of moods. That wasn't even including the situation in the equation.

He knew what he was packing in his duffel bag. Crackers, water, a map, a compass...a gun. A small thing that looked like it had been sourced from some World War 2 film. Even thinking about the presence of the pistol in his bag was enough to dry up his throat and send his heart racing. It was one reminder too many of what was expected of him. Not that he was going to do it - even the idea of killing someone repulsed Maf.

Maf stepped over a stump and kept on moving. He wasn't going to stop until he found someone he knew. Anyone would do - though there was someone in particular he was searching for. Prom date, dressmaker - and actor, too, he'd found out at the Chinese restaurant after prom - Jennifer Perez. Her safety was of immense importance to the formidable Fijian. She had to survive. That is, if she was on the island. For a second, Maf entertained the notion that Jennifer had been sick, or had a wedding to go to, or something, anything to keep her off those buses.

As the sun beat down on Maf, he unzipped his bag, pulled out his drink bottle, and took a swig of water. It was lukewarm, and not exactly clean, but it was better than nothing at this point.

Suddenly, a loud yell echoed through the hills. Maf froze, and then slowly pulled the water away from his mouth. It was a guy, he was certain; who it was, not so much. Maf screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it in the bag, then pulled out the tiny gun. It looked like a preschool toy in his dustbin-lid hands as he advanced on the spot, staying as quiet as his lumbering figure would allow. The intimidating sportsman had no idea how to use the gun - he knew there had to bullets in it, and that there was something about a safety that guns had - but he wasn't going to let on.

Pacing down the hill, the source of the yell became visible. There were three boys, all white kids - one donning glasses, one shorter guy, and one looking like he'd break down at any second, if he hadn't already. Maf advanced on the group, holding his gun to his thigh like on the crime shows his parents watched.

The group hadn't noticed them as he moved close enough to actually make out who they were, and Maf was sort of thankful for that - if they had been he hadn't known, people with the game on their minds, them noticing would've been a bad thing. Thankfully, they were no such thing. Instead, he'd strayed upon Jason Harris, Liam Brooks and Nathan Choultard - all athletics kids, and all friends of his. Struck by his luck, Maf stayed where he was, cupping his hands around his mouth and bellowing a single word - "JASON!"
G087 - Rachel Gettys / Tambourine / The Groundskeeper's Hut / Babysitter: Ciel
B027 - Dustin Royal / Yatagan / Residential Area / Babysitter: Hollyquin
B108 - Ma'afu Tuigamala / Astra 400 (9mm) [x3 magazines (8 round capacity)] / The Tunnels / Babysitter: Inky

B097 - Max Neill / The Lighthouse

Posted Image

Offline Profile
Flowerhead · The Felled Forest: North