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Topic Started: Nov 8 2007, 05:29 PM (5,557 Views)
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Suicidal Maniac
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(O.O.C: Permission to control Mari a wee bit!)

In retrospect Bryan should've looked behind him first, because as he sat up (with much discomfort) and reached for his weapon, he saw Mari's arm fly by him and less than a moment later felt it wrap around his throat from behind. He fumbled desperately for the hammer, his fingers brushing the handle of his only remaining weapon as she held him just short of grasping it.


And as he'd dreaded she still had the knife, which she reached over and dug against the side of his neck with her good hand. Reflexatively he grasped at her wrist the moment he felt the serrated blade begin to pierce his skin, feeling a wave of immense panic and being fucking positive that he was already basically dead. Luckily he was just fast enough to catch her before she could pull it across his throat, although the sting of her knife informed him that he was far from being in the clear and would have to act fast. He was stronger than her, but she was crazed and desperate. He felt the knife dance on his neck and shred his skin. She'd get an artery any second.

He finally had the carpenter's hammer firmly in his grasp though, and some fight still left in him. With a grunt Bryan swung his free arm back over his shoulder and thrust the claw of the hammer up under the back of Mari's skull, digging deep and then pulling as hard as his exhausted, aching muscles would allow.
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B21: Nigel Gillespie
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Youíre too important for anyone
You play the role of all you long to be
But I, I know who you really are
Youíre the one who cries when youíre alone


Her target was in her sights. She slithered across the filthy ground like a snake on its belly, and with every movement, a whole new pinnacle of pain racked her entire body. The fingernails of her good hand tore, busted, and filled with dirt and grime as she used it to propel herself slowly through the grass. Her other throbbed in horrific pain every time she put even the slighest bit of pressure on it. She drug onward, dragging her all but shattered leg through gravel and rock and trying to stop the sobs that squeaked out uncontrollably every time she pulled forward. She could see Bryan sitting on the ground, looking as dazed and stupified as she had when she'd risen up from the concrete sidewalk. Lady Luck had finally given her a break, as her view was directly of Bryan's back, and he seemed completely oblivous to the fact that she was coming up behind him.

This was her last chance to strike the fatal blow.

This was her final chance for vengeance, her final chance for retribution against him for destroying her family, her final chance to settle all unfinished business.

And then, she could finally die in peace.


But where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You canít escape
You canít escape


You think that I canít see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
Youíre left to face yourself alone

In the world of adolescent childhood, life is supposed to be a magestic and wonderful thing. The world is full of new things to discover and all sorts of mysteries and ideas for the future. Or at least, it was supposed to be. For girls like Mariavel, the world was anything but magical. Every day, she would get up, go to school, go on about her day like all the other boys and girls in her class... but when she got home, it wasn't hugs and kisses that awaited her at the doorstep. It was screaming and hitting, beatings and bruises. Her parents played it off like it was no big deal, and the one time a teacher had approached her father concerned with the consistent bruises Mariavel kept showing up at school with, he had managed to sweet talk the middle-aged woman into believing that Mariavel was quite possibly the most accident-prone person on earth.

The people who knew the truth simply turned a blind eye and put on their rose-tinted glasses, pretending that they'd never seen hide nor hair of the things that man had done to her. He was the only person who had always been there for her, probably the only person in her entire life that she could trust. Her father had always been such a good liar. "Why is her arm black and blue?" they'd ask. "Silly child was climbing a tree in the yard and fell down," he'd reply with a grin and a laugh, as if he genuinely believed her injuries had been caused by simple horseplay. Mariavel only wished that were the truth of the matter. Every night, she'd sit on her bed, cradling her newest injuries, and cry herself to sleep... except that one fateful night, she hadn't quite fallen asleep yet. One night of comforting words from her brother had sealed his fate in stone, and if Mariavel had ever wished for anything more in her entire life, she wished she could've taken back that night... those words. She wished it could have been her instead of Grant.

"Hey," the still somewhat high-pitched voice of Grant Varella echoed out as he semi-knocked on Mariavel's bedroom door before pushing it open and closing it tight behind him.

Mariavel didn't dignify him with a response. Instead, she buried her head further in her pillow and tried to pretend that she was sleeping. Grant might have been young, but he wasn't that naive. People didn't cry in their sleep. At least, not any people he'd ever met. Grant moved over to the edge of her bed and sat down, leaning himself up against the end of her baseboard.

"Why're you cryin', Mari?" he asked in a quiet voice, but still, he got no response from his younger sister, "... He did it again, didn't he?"

"What'd... I... ever... d-do?" Mariavel choked out in between quiet sobs, "I s-said... I was... s-sorry..."

A troubled sigh escaped Grant's lips and he closed his eyes tightly. He wished that he and Mari could pack their things and run away in the middle of the night. She was his little sister. He was supposed to stand up for her and be there to protect her. But their father, he was so much bigger than Grant, and Grant was twice Mariavel's size. Grant couldn't hold his own. He couldn't even stop him... and poor Mariavel... all she could do was cower down and wait for it to be over. Grant could always tell when his father had been drinking. He reeked of an awful smell -- a mix of alcohol, vomit, and cigarette smoke, and there was a swagger in his step and a slur in his speech. He always knew when it was coming, but he was still powerless to stop it. Someday though, he'd be bigger than that man, and someday, he'd be able to give him a real what's-for. Somehow, that fact brought Grant some sort of solace and satisfaction.

"Know what?" Grant said with a smile.

Mariavel lifted her head up from the bed tentatively and wiped the soaked blonde hairs away from her eyes.

"I got something for you," Grant grinned, his whole face lighting up as he produced the small object from his pocket. The younger girl could barely see it in the faint moonlight that illuminated her room, and she squinted her eyes to identify it as she reached out for it. Grant grinned wider and wider as he presented it to her. By the look on his face, he might have been handing her the key to the city, even though the object was hardly impressive. Mariavel's eyes, too, widened as she clasped the object in her hands and held it tightly.

"For me?" she echoed, her smile broadening.

"You gotta take care of it, okay?" Grant instructed, "One of these days, Mari, we're gonna get out of here. We're gonna get away from him, and I'm gonna take care of you like a big brother's supposed to. I promise. But until then... all I can do is promise you that I won't let him hurt you anymore. Today was the last time he'll ever hit you... I won't ever let him do it again. So no matter what, you've gotta take care of it, 'cause I promise you... on that berette... that I'm gonna protect you from now on, and I won't let anything bad happen to you ever again, okay?"

"O-okay..." the little girl repeated, her eyes once again filling to the brim with tears, "I promise, Grant, I promise."


Why'd you do it, you stupid, stupid... idiot? Why'd you have to go and get yourself killed? It should've been me, Grant... it should've been me. You didn't deserve it... and you did it all for me... and I've let you down, in every way possible. It should've been me instead...

This was her chance. Mariavel pushed herself up, despite the agonizing pain she felt, and thrust her bad arm around Bryan's neck, putting him in as tight a necklock as he could muster. She wrapped her good arm around the other side of his neck and turned the knife inward. She had him right where she wanted him, and now, she could eliminate him from the game. All she had to do was stick the blade in one side and pull. No matter how much bigger and stronger Bryan was than herself, he couldn't get out of this one. She had caught him offguard, and now, she was going to have her final taste of bittersweet revenge before she succumbed to her wounds.

"You have no idea..." Mariavel whispered quietly into Bryan's ear, "...how much this hurts me. You were like my brother... but obviously you've never heard the phrase that blood is thicker than water."

Of course, she was a little misguided in her words. Blood might have been thicker than water, but they were in no way related by blood. If she'd ever given Bryan a chance to tell his side of the story -- if she'd ever heard him out -- she might have known the whole truth, and maybe she would've been able to die in peace knowing what had really happened to the rest of the Bloody Fists. Mariavel was young, though, and naive, and she had formed her own crazy ideas in her mind long before she had ever even encountered Bryan on the island. The sad truth was, no matter what he would have said, Mariavel wouldn't have believed him.

"I really am sorry, but you have to die... we all have to die here... that's just fate."

Mariavel readied herself to plunge the knife deep into Bryan's neck. This would be retribution for Seth's death. It would be retribution for Walter Smith's crimes against her, retribution for the Sisterhood's constant teasing and tormenting of her, retribution for her father's beatings and her mother's indifference. Killing Bryan would end the final chapter of her life in a spatter of blood, and then, she'd be content to die, and to meet her beloved brother in whatever afterlife existed after this one. The death of Bryan Calvert... it would fix everything that had ever gone wrong in Mariavel's life. It would cleanse her slate, eliminate all the teasing and tormenting, all the attempts at getting the wrong kind of attention. She would be able to start anew, and she wouldn't be Mariavel Varella anymore. In her disillusioned state, Bryan's death meant all these things.

Mariavel placed the tip of the knife against Bryan's throat and began to push in...

But where will you go (where will you go)
With no one left to save you from yourself
You canít escape
The truth
I realize youíre afraid (I realize)
But you canít abandon everyone
You canít escape
You donít want to escape



The moment the door to the school building had flung open and Mariavel had heard the quite distinct voice echo into the hallways of the school building, her heart had leapt up in her throat. Her best friend and confidante, Lavender Heart, had finally found her. They had finally been reunited on the island. Mariavel called out to Lavvy, bounding toward the entrance of the school building with a look of excitement on her face that she hadn't held in a very, very long time. Only... the excitement didn't last. Mariavel's reunion with Lavender wouldn't be a happy one. As Mariavel rounded the corner, she indeed found her best friend -- lying in a bloody slump on the floor of the school. Mariavel's face turned as pale as a ghost's and she rushed over to her friend, cradling her battered body in her arms.

"I'm here, Lavvy... I'm here. Who did this? WHO?!"

She couldn't stop crying.

"Mari... I'm so glad it's really you. I'm so happy. It's like... that feeling... when you meet someone for the first... time and... instantly become friends. Remember that, Mari... when we... first met?"

How could she have ever forgotten?

"I... I remember... back then... everything was so easy back then."

A lie shrouded in truth. If Mariavel would have ever known the fate that she was destined to endure, she'd have taken her past over it any day.

"Yeah... do you remember the story we... read together? I used to love it..."


You read it with me.

"Can you... tell me that story... again?"

In the blink of an eye, it was all gone. All the good times, all the bad, everything she and Lavender Heart had ever been through together were fading away in front of Mariavel's very eyes, and she was powerless to do anything about it. She couldn't stop Lavvy from dying. This was the end.

"You've become... even more beautiful, Mari... You've blossomed... into a rose..."


"I've loved... loved you for a ... l-long time now... So survive... Mari, continue to live."

Continue to live.


Iím so sick of speaking words that no one understands
Is it clear enough that you canít live your whole life all alone?
I can hear you when you whisper
But you canít even hear me screaming

The knife never pierced his throat.

No sooner than Mariavel moved to jam the knife deep into his flesh and pull with all her might, Bryan got a similar notion. She had been so fixated on ending his life, so transfixed in her own thoughts, that she had failed to notice one very important factor that was playing greatly against her. Sometime between the time she spotted him and the time she managed to maneuver her arms around his neck, Bryan had picked up the hammer. She hadn't noticed. She had failed to see or anticipate his most obvious move. To Mariavel, it was over the moment she put the knife to his throat. Checkmate. She had won. This time, though, she was the one who had missed Bryan's not-so-subtle tactic.

Her eyes widened drastically.

Before she had time to think, let alone react, Bryan flung the back end of the hammer into the back of her head. It connected with a sickening crackling sound before ripping through flesh, bone, and brain matter and embedded itself deep in her skull. Mariavel let out a horrifying screech and flung her arms wildly behind her as the hammer began to impact, desperately trying to stop the attack in time, but as Bryan pulled the butt of the hammer back out of her skull, her once bright blue eyes faded into a lifeless, dull gray and she slumped forward, landing in the grass a few inches away from him.


Saying that Mariavel Varella had had a bad day at school might have been the understatement of the year. She had woken up that morning just knowing that today, something was going to go wrong, and she found that "wrong" in the form of Hellbirds member Jenna Cassidy. One thing had lead to another, and somewhere along the way it had lead to an out and out brawl in between Mariavel and Jenna in the girl's bathroom. Darcy Rose had pulled her away from the scene shortly thereafter, and the two girls sat side by side on a bench in the unoccupied women's locker room.

"So tell me... why the hell were you guys fighting?" Darcy inquired curiously.

Mariavel completely blew Darcy's question off.

"Oh, you know, just the usual shit. Hey, Darcy... is there anyone YOU like?"

Darcy simply rolled her eyes and laughed as she changed into her cheerleading uniform.

"Uh, no. I haven't found anyone who could handle me yet," she mused before a teasing tone overtook her voice, "Why? Is it because of YOU and Jack?"

Mariavel sighed.

"He's been... ignoring me lately. I was wondering if you had any advice. He's just so... nice. He doesn't see me as a slut... he thinks of me as a person."

But maybe it had never really been Jack Bexley in the first place.

"Well, FIRST of all, where did you meet the guy? What's he like? Is he a nerd? Loser? What type of guy?"

Darcy was talking, but she definitely wasn't listening. She was too fixated on herself in the mirror to care what Mariavel really had to say. In that respect, Lavender had always been a much better friend than Darcy ever had. Lavender would always listen to what Mariavel had to say, and at least try to help. That was more than she got from most of her friends, including some members of the Bloody Fists.

Except for him.

"Hm... we met a few days ago... outside, during fourth period. We started talking and I... well, I fell for him."

She had fallen for him alright, but it hadn't been Jack Bexley. Only during her time on the island had Mariavel realized just how she really felt for Seth Mattlock. He had been... special. She had never seen it before, not when she might have had the chance to act upon it, but Seth had always been sort of a father figure to the entirety of the Bloody Fists. He had been the mastermind behind it all, so to speak, and if it hadn't been fort Seth, Mariavel might have lost any semblance of sanity she'd held a long time ago. He had kept her sane, he had given her the sort of stability she needed... he had provided a real home for Mariavel, something she hadn't had since Grant had passed away.

And she had never seen it. Not until it was too late.


Where will you go (where will you go)
With no one left to save you from yourself
You canít escape
The truth
I realize youíre afraid (I realize)
But you canít reject the whole world
You canít escape
You wonít escape
You canít escape
You donít want to escape

Jaime Dibenidetti.
Nich Finlayson.
Alex Ovechkin.
Rupert Stockton.
Seth Malvice.
Walter Smith.
Michael Neely.
Carmen Somerset.
Elizabeth Ebert.
Tori Johnson.

All of these people had met their end at the hands of Mariavel Varella. Audiences around the world had tuned in to watch one of this season's most popular contestants slice and dice the competition, and now, that contestant -- hardly known as Mariavel Varella, but simply Female Student no. 25 to the outside world -- lay dead on the cold, wet grass outside of the school building. He had beaten her. He had won.


Misa Achtland

Ayako Okogamine

Kevin De la Torre

Melissa Angelicchio

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Suicidal Maniac
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Mari's choke hold immediately released and she let out an awful, horrifying wail that crawled into Bryan's ear and kicked at his brain with a pair of golf cleats. With the knife out of his face he instinctively grabbed onto the hammer with his free arm and wrenched harder. Mari kept screaming, but couldn't quite drown out the wet crackle of her skull separating from her cervical vertebrae.

Finally the claw came free with one last forceful tug, chipping off a small piece of skull and with it tissue and scalp. The screams died suddenly. Mari slid off of him onto the ground. Now Bryan could hear only his own heavy breathing. His heart was still racing; it felt ready to explode. Bryan looked down at the carpenter's hammer, dripping with blood and nasty gray shit, and tossed it lightly onto the grass beside him with a sigh of exhaustion. For a moment he sat motionless next to Mari's corpse, letting his breathing and his pulse slow down and trying to ignore the enormous collective body of pain that bore down on him.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her, but he whispered even though he knew she was already gone. ďDammit, Mari...why didn't you come after me?Ē Then he buried his face in his hands and sobbed quietly. He'd never once thought that killing Mariavel would bring Tori back, or even make up for his failure to protect her. But at the very least he'd thought it would ease his mental anguish. It hadn't. All the outrage and sadness in his heart remained unscathed and there was no way to block it out or escape it. He couldn't even take solace in hoping she was safe in the hands of some benevolent deity, because he knew better now. If there was a god, then it despised humans and took great pleasure in seeing them hurt one another. Kill one another. No god would've let this happen.

"Congratulations, Boy 12. You are the winner," a nearby PA announced flatly.

((Endgame v2))
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B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard
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