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Viewing Single Post From: Ten Shades of Gray
Pigeon Army
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is the Soul Machine.
[ *  *  * ]
Dustin had barely wrapped up his witty and brilliant retort when loud, screeching speaker feedback ripped through the area. Dustin spun around, his guitar and pack bouncing off him as he looked around for the source of the noise.

"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing."

Oh hell

Dustin had completely forgotten about the instrument of death in his hands. It took the sleazy, mocking voice of Danya echoing across the town centre for him to remember it. He yanked the yatagan half-out of its sheath - something bad was going to happen. That shit wasn't going to let them have it easy. That was the whole point of the game. They wouldn't be hearing him if he didn't have some delicious twist to lay on them.

Dustin listened intently as the omnipresent voice brusquely rattled off the day's dead. Dustin caught a few names in the fray, but didn't pay any attention. Danya was probably just fucking with them, and besides, they wouldn't kill people, right? He'd only known them for a few hours apiece, but Dustin was pretty sure he had a good eye for psychos. He'd probably have lost his penis years ago if he didn't.

Danya rattled off the dangerzones, which Dustin passively noted, and then a short explosion of static gave way to silence. "Huh," Dustin said quietly. It was a bit of a shock, knowing that all those people had killed and had died. And that he'd had sex with them, or been in their classes, or seen them play instruments, or what have you. Dustin didn't vomit or cry or overreact - bass boy had immunised him to all that. Besides, Danya could be lying. He could be making shit up just to get at them and stir up some conflict, because that's how it worked, right? People fought each other and killed each other and holy crap is that Maria over there what's she doing she looks terrible!

Nice rack, though.

The punk girl, sans shirt, stumbled over to the group, bruised and bloody and altogether looking like the kind of woman Alpha Male over there would enjoy. Dustin stared as Maria stopped, swayed, introduced herself to the new recruits, and collapsed. He slid the yatagan back into its sheath and, not taking his eyes off Maria, stashed it back in his daypack. A low hubbub filled the air as the newbies began discussing what they should do, but Dustin just couldn't take his eyes off Maria. Where the fuck had she been? What the fuck had she done? Where the fuck had her shirt gone?

Another kid, a solidly-built guy, staggered into the island's CBD after Maria, but Dustin paid him no heed. Eventually, Jamis spoke up, and Dustin snapped out of his trance. It was almost as though Dustin's brain wanted him to be antagonistic.

"Alright, this isn't a great place to discuss plans. We need to find a safe haven, some place to crash, whatever. There's a rec room not that far away, didn't check the place out but it looks completely empty. It's better than just staying out here. And with her around, it's important that we find a place that ain't so open. You got me? Only option we have, what with all seven of... uh, us?"

Dustin turned back to Streetcar-Brando and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got you. Rec centre, shoot some hoops, do some domestic abuse, blah blah blah," he said, his voice saturated with snark as he turned back to Maria. "Don't think too hard, eh, probs not good for ya."

Guess it's settled, then.

The swarthy boy walked over to Maria, slid his guitar off his shoulders, and held it out to Cassidy. "I've got her. But I find one scratch on this when we get to the middle of Harlem, you're paying for the replacement."
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

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