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N-Nopony! Ah was talkin' to nopony whatsoever!
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((Jacquard "Jackie" Broughten continued from Could Have Been Worse.))

It had been a long, long two days sitting down in the tunnels. After she had regained herself from the minor tantrum in the woods, Jackie had immediately fled. She couldn't believe it had taken her nearly a full week on the island to even think about her parents. About what her family would think of their little murderer, their insane little daughter. So many prying eyes upon her, she suddenly felt so incredibly vulnerable. She needed to get off camera, but how? The limited attention she had paid to the announcements had informed her quite clearly that someone named Liz Polanski had created essentially a dead-zone in the cameras... somewhere. Not where. That didn't help at all. But upon looking at her map a few hours later, she spotted a multitude of entrances to the tunnels. It was near the mine, where she had first encountered Roland and that girl.

It was probably dark in there. Even if she still was under the prying eye of the cameras that were so plentifully spread across the island, it would be dark enough that she could hide.

And so by nightfall, she had made her way to the nearest entrance, somewhere in the Inland Woods. It was almost impressive that a mining company had spread so far underneath the entire island. But she could dwell on that later.

And for an entire day and a half, the only voice she heard was that of Danya as his announcements echoed almost unintelligibly through the intricate, vast tunnel network that created this massive spider web throughout the entire island. Well, that and the sound of her own sobs, and the occasional voice in the back of her head, telling her to get up or stop feeling so damned sorry for herself. But really, what was the point of it all? She was out of food. She had run out at some point halfway between walking into the tunnels and now. She was so incredibly hungry... But she had nothing. Even if she didn't get shot, or stabbed, or some other fitting death, she was still going to starve to death in three or four days, absolute tops. This was so incredibly bad. It hadn't crossed her mind, but these guys were sicker bastards than she had originally thought. Two bottles of water, two loaves of bread, and a tin of crackers. Eating normally, enough for two days. Meager portions, enough for six or seven days. How far were they? Halfway. Food as an incentive to kill. Sure, a couple of the people running around out here had probably managed to become self sufficient, but logic didn't equate to an understanding of hunting or knowledge of edible plants.

How long had it been? There had been two announcements, and the last one seemed like years ago when something finally broke the silence. It was a gunshot. So painfully loud on her poor and weary ears. There was an urging. An urging from within, to go, see if she could help. A reminder from that same voice that there should be some kind of flashlight in her backpack. After a few minutes, her hand touched steel. Not the destroyed and warped steel of her hacksaw, but a smoother steel. And suddenly, there was light.

And without quite understanding why she was doing it, she was walking in the direction of the single gunshot.

As she slowly closed the distance between the trio unknown and herself, voices became clearer and clearer. She only heard two. One seemed so powerful and in charge, such a natural leader. The other was shaky and scared. Screaming. The only words she could understand as they bounced off of the tight stone walls.


A chance to help... Redeem yourself for all your follies.

More silence, followed by more voices. Something was happening. Something bad. She felt some unexplained sense of urgency, one that she just didn't have the energy to act upon. Her slow, shuffling footsteps, of shoes that weren't even hers. There was a fifty percent chance that the girl who actually owned them was dead now. She had no idea of who it even was.

Wow. She had really been a terrible person... It's a sad state of affairs when killing is more justified than stealing... But here, honestly, it's more likely that her kill would be forgiven by her parents than stealing that poor girl's only pair of shoes.

"This might hurt just a little."

They were right around the corner. Her flashlight wasn't quite cresting that natural barricade, and she still wasn't quite sure if she wanted it to.

So she just stopped, and listened.

A boy, was talking so weakly... She hadn't even heard his voice as she was approaching. He was... dying. Someone was trying to help. She couldn't place a single voice to a single name. Then again, she knew maybe what, ten people in Bayview before she had gotten here?

Do it! The voice hissed.

But she didn't act. She just stood, shifting her weight awkwardly back onto her good leg. The pain from before had left her, but only for two days of physical rest, and mental stress.

Stood and did nothing... For far too long. Far too long.

"Goodnight, folks..."

It was over. The dying boy was no longer dying, he was dead. She had heard two names, his soft voice having carried almost perfectly over the strange acoustics.

Peter... And Brendan... Neither of them rang a bell. But that didn't matter. Cassarah was right, it was time to turn over a new damned leaf, to try again, much to Li's eternal chagrin. So her light rounded the corner first, a large circle illuminating the relative darkness of the small cavern in which the recently deceased sat.

"I-Is there anything I can do to help?" She just hoped she wouldn't be turned away, scoffed at like before, called a killer, a murderer, a bitch, and threatened within an inch of her life yet again. She had to at least try. Who was really winning out here? And was it even right?
Coming soon to a deathmatch near you:
Garry Brooks - Swave Countryboy
Jade Aurora - Tomboy Drummer
Jasmine Tolle - Pacifistiic Artist

Memories of those past:
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What is wrong with you people?!
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Peripeteia · The Tunnels