I know that wasn't exactly the most badass thing I've ever done, but it would have been nice to at least get some, like, pathetic "You tried!" medal! - Michael Mitchellson

Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Survival of the Fittest, a RPing board based off of Koshun Takami's Battle Royale, with its own unique plot and spin on the 'deadly game'. We've been around quite a while, and are now in our ninth year, so don't worry about us going anywhere any time soon!

If you're a newcomer and interested in joining, then please make sure you check out the rules. You may also want to read the FAQ, introduce yourself and stop by the chat to meet some of our members. If you're still not quite sure where to start, then we have a great New Member's Guide with a lot of useful information about getting going. Don't hesitate to PM a member of staff (they have purple usernames) if you have any questions about SOTF and how to get started!

Let the games begin!

Username:   Password:
Locked Topic
At a Loss
Topic Started: Aug 2 2008, 03:01 PM (4,438 Views)
Crash
Member Avatar
Power Bottom
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Trish McCarroll continued from The Stench of Reality)

The jungle was thick and buggy from the rain. Trish felt the bugs crawling over her skin, making her uncomfortable. She rubbed her arms and face constantly, trying to rid herself of the tiny pests; it did nothing, though. Nobody hated having bugs stuck to her more than Trish. She'd thrown a bit of a tantrum about it a while back, much to her embarrassment now. She was ashamed to show that side of herself to James, even though she thought he had taken it in stride...like he always did.

The AK was in James' possession for a while, it was very difficult for her to navigate a jungle whilst carrying that monster of a gun. The ammo in her bag was weighing her down as well.

Fucking Sean...

The kid had to be so difficult towards her, even though she was doing her best to be understanding. She shouldn't have to have stolen the ammo off him while he was unconscious, especially since she was willing to work out a fair trade. But of course, he had to be a douche, giving her no other option than to be a douche right back.

My former life, I had a sister
I abused her and I dissed her
She got swept up in a twister
First I laughed and then I missed her...


She had to hand it to herself, though. That was the weirdest song to have stuck in her head. Where had she even heard it?

Oh, even your mother is a crook
But if you get a closer look
There's shit on every hand you shook-


Was she right to refuse Neil Sinclair? He wasn't a bad guy. Perhaps she read the situation wrong...after all, she had been mistaken about Sean O'Cann. It seemed as though he was taking Andy's death worse than she had anticipated. Even though he had annoyed her, Trish understood his loss.

Who made all these things for killing?
Whose empty heart needs filling?


We're not those kids, sitting on the couch.

"No shit," Trish whispered under her breath.

Sometime in the midst of her introspection Trish had managed to stumble upon the brook, although it looked much different than its name on the map would imply. She had imagined a small stream winding through the middle of the jungle, but this was more like a small river. The constant downpour over the last few days had been enough to raise the water level significantly, but luckily for her the water still seemed relatively untainted. Since the brook had been her and James' original destination before accidentally stumbling upon the chapel Trish was more than relieved to have finally found it, but something felt strange and almost forbidden.

Almost instantly Trish felt like the collar around her neck had tripled in size, and she frantically reached for it with both her hands. The brook was a danger zone according to the last announcement. She froze in fear, sure of the fact that she was about to die at any second...

The morning announcement blared to life just as quickly as she'd managed to freak out, and Trish slowly felt her senses returning to her. She sighed inwardly, feeling somewhat stupid for not having reacted in a smarter, more sensible way. The collar remained dormant, and after determining that she was safe she proceeded further into the clearing, dropping her daypack under a nearby tree and removing her map and Danya's survival guide. She placed the map on top of the survival guide and withdrew the sketching pencil she'd stashed in her jeans pocket earlier, marking off the new dangerzones and erasing the old ones as she always did. Once she was finished, she replaced both items back into her daypack and zipped it up, listening intently to the remainder of the announcement.

The list of kills and deaths at this point had been reduced to a meager list of whom to watch out for and whom Trish wouldn't expect to see during the rest of her stay on the island. It still rattled her to find out that her friends were dying, but somewhere inside her she knew that with every student that died she was one step closer to going back home to Highland Beach and seeing her mom again. More importantly, Trish knew that she couldn't get upset every time she found out somebody she'd shared a class or a conversation with had become another victim of the game. Not only was it irrational and would be a surefire guarantee to her being added to the list, but she knew from experience that no matter how much she grieved or how many tears she cried, none of them were going to come back.

The next part of the announcement was beyond disturbing, and reminded her of just how cruel the game really was. The panicked, frenzied, and ultimately final screams of the four girls Danya had just brutally murdered stung Trish much harder than the frigid rain. If she was cold before, she was now definitely shivering. Melissa Diaz's death in particular didn't sit well with Trish. They'd taken a few of the same art classes, and therefore spent quite a bit of time together back at Southridge. They were quite similar, in a way. Trish had often considered pursuing a stronger friendship with Melissa, but now she'd never have that chance.

Neil, that shit. Hadn't she told him that he would get himself killed? Well, this was definitely worse. He'd killed four innocent people with his stupid fucking plan. Didn't he know that Danya wasn't the type to fuck around? No one was escaping this hell.

After absorbing and digesting the truckload of information that Danya had thrown at her, Trish got back to her feet and surveyed the area. It was devoid of the smell of death that had permeated the Chapel, most likely owing to the rain and consequent odour of plant life in the area. Slapping a few more bugs away from her hands and neck, she noticed the corpse of Tyson Neills, face up and covered in bugs. She immediately drew her eyes away from the grotesque sight, but found little relief. The next thing that caught her eye was another boy's corpse a few meters off in the distance, face down. He had evidently died from collar detonation, as his blood had pooled on the ground underneath him and mixed with rainwater.

Making her way back over to the stream, Trish removed the water bottles from her daypack, deciding to dump out the stale water and replace it with the fresh water flowing from the brook. It was a good way to kill time until James caught up.

Her thoughts trailed back to her mother back home. She'd be watching the show, anxious to see how her daughter was faring. Absently, Trish wondered if she'd had any screen time.

We're not those kids...sitting on the couch!
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ET.Requiem
Confused Writer
[ *  * ]
((Continued from Long Road to Ruin))

The rain hadn't stopped. From the time he ran from the murderous girl with the submachine gun, to the time that he reached this forest.... It was a neverending torrent of water. One would would last long after he died.

Jeff had to take a rest. His breathing was turning from gasps to wheezing. He knew what was going to happen next, but struggled against it anyways. No....don't sto- It was futile. His legs gave out, sending him skidding face first through the dirt and muck.

Why? He turned over onto his back, trying to get some air into his lungs. Why did he even keep on trying? Why did he run, even though it was pointless? He closed his eyes, listening to the rain fall around him.

Am I doing this for myself? Was he trying to live just because he's too scared to die? Or was he going to survive for somebody else's sake?

My family.... He remembered those peaceful days before the beginning of this nightmare. His father, his mother, his little sister Kerrie....How would they take it? If he lost his humanity or died an useless death, just how painful would it be for them?

No....I won't let that happen... Jeff got up, pulling his pistol out of his daypack as he did. With an almost painful effort, he hid himself behind some bushes, trying to keep out of sight as he recovered. He had to live. He was going to survive, just to spare his family the pain of losing one of their own. If he got off....No, when he gets off of this island, he will try to atone for his crimes. But right now, he had to play this twisted game.

I'll never forgive myself for doing this. His tears mixed with the rain that fell from the endless grey sky.
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Cyco
Member Avatar
Suicidal Maniac
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((continued from The Stench of Reality))

James caught up, wielding the AK (which he had no idea how to operate past pulling the trigger) and visibly shaken from the particularly disturbing announcement. He approached Trish and stood beside her as she went about freshening their drinks, breathing a little heavily and taking a look around. There was something very much on his mind, and after a moment to catch his breath he voiced his concerns to Trish.

"I really hope that Neil guy gets the picture...Danya's one twisted dude."
Posted Image

v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Crash
Member Avatar
Power Bottom
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It hadn't taken Trish too long to empty her water bottles and refill them with the relatively fresher water from the brook, and by the time she'd finished James had showed up. She screwed the lids on the bottles one by one and replaced them back into her day pack, then set to work with retrieving James' water supply and refilling his, too. It was the least she could do, especially since his hands were full from the weight of the gun and he'd carried it all the way here for her.

While she was in the midst of refilling his water bottles, he commented on Danya's retaliation against Neil and the rest of SADD. It struck a nerve with her, especially since that much had already been apparent. "Neil should've known that before he went around doing stupid shit. Now innocent people are getting killed, and we could be next." It was an ominous prospect, but that was the majority of the reason why it didn't sit well with her. Trish was already scared shitless by the prospect of having to kill all the people she'd shared so many memories with over the past four years, but the possibility that she may die without even standing a chance and in such a gruesome fashion was, if it was possible, an even more horrifying outcome.

After she'd finished refilling James' water bottles she proceeded to screw the lids back on and replace them into his daypack, zipping it up when she was finished. She dropped her own day pack onto the ground in front of her, relieving herself of the heavy load and freeing up her hands. Now that she was less burdened she gently relieved James of the AK-47 and took a seat on the water-logged ground, leaning against her day pack. She was already soaked anyway, so the mud and water didn't really bother her. The brook was partially enclosed and therefore stopped a good portion of the rain from coming down on them, which made it an ideal place for taking a rest. Trish stared out into the distance, unable to make out much owing to the rain and the mist it had created over the last day or so, taking in the rare moment of tranquility she found herself trying to enjoy in their inescapable shroud of death.
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ET.Requiem
Confused Writer
[ *  * ]
What was that? He heard a slight noise, and a voice coming from somewhere.

"...one twisted dude."

Jeff made sure the safety was off before he sneaked off towards the source of the sound that he heard. After several minutes, he found them. Jeff recognized the girl, although he didn't know her name. Now, what will I do? He bit his lip. With a shaky hand, he took aim at her.

Sorry, but I have to do this. He tried to pull the trigger, but he found that he wasn't able to do it. Killing somebody on purpose was too much for him. Jeff lowered the gun. It looked like even a promise to stay alive couldn't force him to murder a person.
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
dinah_shore
Member Avatar
Lesbians!
[ *  *  * ]
((Continued from A View to a Kill))

The only thing Jake could hear as he sprinted away from the tower was his pulse slamming erratically against his eardrums. By some strange twist of luck, he found the chapel without his map, which he dropped at some point in his panic. He'd tried retracing his steps, but a quick glance at the time (it was 6:30 AM) convinced him to press on without it. He didn't know why, but he felt like something was rapidly slipping away from him. Something that he needed to catch.

Things still didn't feel right as he briskly approached the chapel. Peeking in through a broken window, Jake saw four boys, two of them facing off at opposite ends of the chapel, and the other two hidden behind a riot shield. There was nothing he could do for them, though. Not when he had more pressing matters at hand.

Jake ran around the back of the building, towards the graveyard. Where was he even going?

The headstones in the cemetery were of varying height, some taller than an average person, and some just barely clearing knee height. Jake failed to notice this as he glanced over his shoulder to check that no one had exited the chapel.

He turned to face forward just as his knee connected with the granite slab. Winded, Jake choked on a scream of pain as his momentum carried him over the grave marker, sending him hurtling face first towards another. His hands flew up in an attempt to shield his face.

CRACK!

As he slid down the wet face of the gravestone, Jake became aware of the painful reverberations in his left leg and right hand. He wanted to holler, to scream and curse, but he couldn't get enough air to do anything other than cough. His lungs begged him for air as Jake had a fit of coughing. The coughing turned into dry heaving as he tried to vomit. The spasms in his gut ripped through him as tears began to well up in his eyes.

After the spasming subsided, Jake stayed in a crouched position, gasping for air. He tried to keep all his weight on his right knee while he caught his breath. This was the worst he'd ever been hurt in his life. Tears streamed freely down his freckled cheeks as he examined his injured hand. His ring and pinky fingers were broken, and stuck out at unnatural angles. Something was also wrong with the index and middle fingers as well because he couldn't move them without a rippling pain seizing his entire arm. Jake checked his watch. It was 6:30 AM.

-------------------------------

Somehow, despite his shattered knee cap, he'd managed to put a lot of distance between himself and the graveyard. Jake leaned against a large tree and listened. He could hear rushing water.

The brook?

Looking at his watch, Jake felt more anxiety.

Water shouldn't run that fast. It's going too quickly!

Not only was he running out of time, but somehow it was accelerating faster than before...

With renewed determination, Jake set to climbing the slippery hill. It wasn't a very large incline, but with his knee in the condition it was in, it was enough. His progress was slow, since trying to bend his knee caused waves of searing pain to wash over the entire left side of his body. He didn't know why he needed to take such a painful route. Gritting his teeth, Jake pressed on anyways. It was 6:30 AM, according to his watch.

"No good, no good..." he muttered to himself as he reached the top of the hill. Now the river was in full view, and it had indeed flooded over like Danya described earlier. Jake could see a couple bodies, and two living people. James Brown and...

"TRRIIIIIIISSSHHHHHH!!"
------------------------------------♥------------------------------------
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ET.Requiem
Confused Writer
[ *  * ]
WHO- Jeff's left hand came up to support the Ballester-Molina as he turned towards the sound in one quick motion.

He pulled the trigger three times.

A second passed.

"Oh my God...."
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
nope
Member Avatar
throw that pussy like i'm famous
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(( Danielle continued from The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Reg ))

Danni's sprint had slowed to more of a stumble. Her legs felt like lead. There were deep, painful stitches in her sides. Her lungs were burning and screaming for air. She needed to stop, but she couldn't. After seeing Reg cut down like that, she didn't think she would ever be able to stop. She was too afraid to stop. As soon as she stopped running bullets would come flying through the trees, and she'd go down just like Reg, she'd go out sputtering blood and not even knowing what had happened, she'd-

She hadn't realized she had been falling until her face hit the mud. She fell hard on her left side with her arm outstretched. Her duffel bag came down next to her and her daypack- which had been hanging only by her left shoulder at this point- flew out in front of her. She let out a weak moan. She lay there for a while, waiting for those magic bullets to come or some worse fate. When nothing happened, she rolled over on her back, drew up her legs, and clutched her muddy hair with her hands. Before she could stop it, sobs began to rack her body. They hurt her, she could barely breathe, but she couldn't help it. Any fantasy of escape had died with Reg. She wasn't going to live through this. She was going to die on this stupid fucking island and there was never anything she could do to even give herself a chance. She would never get up, she's just lie down and sink into the mud until Lenny or the bastard that shot Reg or some other crazy fuck came and put her out of her misery. Or maybe by then she'd have just let herself drown in the mud, and they wouldn't even have to bother. They'd just continue on and kill more Regs and Annas. Because they were who survived. Not the Regs or the Annas or the Dannis, they were just fodder, they never had a chance. It was the Lennys who would prevail. So she might as well just come to terms with her fate and let herself die, it'd be less painful that way, there would be no blood or agony or wondering what was happening to her as she bled out on the dirt.

It was kind of funny. Not too long ago she'd made a promise to herself to not be so pathetic, yet here she was again, back at square one. It was disgusting. She hated herself for it. She'd always been pathetic, and maybe there was no helping that. She thought back to her family. Her parents hadn't done anything wrong. They were wonderful people. She just came out of the womb messed up. It wasn't their fault, it was hers. They deserved better than her. And maybe when this was over and they were done grieving, they'd adopt or something and get the daughter they deserved. They'd move on. Everyone would. The world would be no worse off without Danni Champney around. There would be no shortage of useless girls like her once she was gone.

She could have been better. She could have been the strong-willed, dignified woman her mother and grandmother before her had been. She could have worked towards some goal other than getting boys online to like her by filming herself in the nude. She could have been smarter. She could have saved Reg, saved all of them and found a way out of this hell. But this was a revelation come far too late.

Danni sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked at her duffel bag. The claymore was gone. Sure, it had been a burden, but it had been her only protection. She felt safe with it. Now even that was gone. She remembered what she had asked Reg. So what now? She'd never gotten an answer. She was just as lost as she had been before. What now? She was going to have to die eventually, but it didn't have to be like this. She'd survive as long as she could, go out with dignity, make her parents proud. For once in her life, she was going to do something right. But where to start?

She closed her eyes and listened around. There were some distant screams in one direction and a smattering of gunfire in another. These didn't bother her so much anymore. She'd been listening to them for days now. Closer to her was a shout, something like "Trish" (Trish? Trish McCarroll?), and more gunfire. She didn't like how close it was, but she'd have to deal. It's not like she could run anymore anyway. But there was another sound that caught her attention. She couldn't quite place it, but the rain sounded stronger here than it had in the jungle. It was more of a roaring sound than before, more like...

Running water, maybe? A stream or brook of some sort? Danni eyed her daypack thirstily. Her water was running dangerously low, and after that run fresh water was looking very appealing. It was a good place to start. Plus it would be nice to rinse all of this mud off. Had to look good for the cameras and everything, she'd lived her life by that so far. She resolved if she lived long enough to find shelter, she'd even change out of this stupid dress. She got to her feet and swung the pink duffel bag over her shoulder, then knelt over her daypack. She wiped her muddy hands on her thighs and dug through the pockets until she found the map. The barracks looked like a good destination, or maybe even the storehouse. She replaced the map and slipped her left arm in the strap of the daypack, then straightened up.

It took her a minute to get her bearings back, but she figured the water way almost directly ahead. Danni brushed the dirty streaks of mulitcolored hair out of her eyes and trudged on through the rain.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Crash
Member Avatar
Power Bottom
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The sound of the water flowing through the brook was soothing, and provided Trish with a sense of relaxation that she hadn't felt in quite some time. Against her better judgment she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be immersed in the serene atmosphere. Somewhere in the back of her mind she doubted she'd ever feel this peaceful again, which was what prompted her to take in the moment while it lasted.

James was silent for the time being, and combined with the serenity of their environment it gave Trish a rare moment of clarity in the midst of all the chaos. Her thoughts traced their way back the chapel, where she'd next to abandoned Sean and the other boy who was looking after him. It left a bit of a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach, but it really was in both of their best interests. She didn't want to think about what would've happened if Sean had pushed any more of her buttons. The more engrossed she became in her thoughts, the more comfortable she found herself becoming. Her eyelids were getting heavy again...

"TRRIIIIIIISSSHHHHHH!!"

Her eyes burst open as quickly as they had shut at the sound of a more-than-familiar voice calling her name from some distance away. It sounded like...Jake? That couldn't be possible, though; Jake didn't have enough money to come on the trip and had been forced to cancel his reservation. She remembered how much of a let-down it had been originally, finding out that he couldn't go, but that thought was quickly suppressed by the fact that if he really hadn't made it, he wouldn't be on the island right now.

Trish got to her feet, throwing the daypack over her back and hefting the AK up once more. She made her way downstream towards another end of the brook, and sure enough spotted Jake standing about thirty meters away on top of a small hill. She had to move closer to convince herself that it was really him; the combination of the rain, the brook and the jungle had resulted in a fine mist covering the majority of the clearing, and it was hard to see through. Once she had confirmed it was Jake, she felt her heart sink. On any other occasion she would've been delighted to see him, especially given that he was really one of her only close friends. Now, though...

"Jake! What are you doing here!? I thought you-..."

*BANG!*

Trish felt her breath catch in her throat, and just as quickly as she'd realized what had just happened, the look of relief on Jake's face had faded into one of agony. He'd lost his balance now and had dropped to his knees. Trish's heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest.

*BANG!*

*BANG!*


Two more bullets came flying out of the unknown assailants' gun and ripped through Jake, but Trish was already moving. She flicked the safety off the AK and dashed as quickly as she could to Jake's side, but he was already on the ground. She felt her blood run cold. Jake couldn't be...dead? She was about to kneel down to check, but out of the corner of her eye she caught the source of the problem.

Jeff Thorne was standing about ten feet away, both hands supporting the gun that had just torn Jake asunder, a completely blank expression on his face. Trish felt herself boiling over, but couldn't do anything to contain it. The pressure of the game, the attitude that Sean had been giving her, her and James' constant struggle for survival...all of it paled in comparison to this, and yet this proved to be the icing on the cake. She wasn't thinking clearly any more. It wasn't a human being Trish saw standing in front of her; it was Jake's killer.

"How...could you!?" she managed through gritted teeth, practically spitting the words out of her mouth. White-hot tears were stinging the sides of her face, but she hardly noticed. Jeff was just as unresponsive; as cold and inhuman as he looked right after pulling the trigger.

Trish had resolved not to play the game if she could avoid it, but that blank, cold-blooded stare was the last straw. Before she realized the implications of what she was doing she felt her finger depressing the trigger of the AK-47. The gun exploded in sound and a hail of bullets erupted from it, flying towards Jeff. She was far too blinded by her emotions to realize that she was rapidly spraying bullets in his direction, and about halfway through the clip the recoil she felt from not bracing herself properly managed to effectively knock her over backwards. Her butt hit the ground with a thud, but she still managed to fully unload the clip in Jeff's direction during her fall.

*Click*

When the magazine went dry, she absent-mindedly ejected it from the gun, and it hit the muddy, barren earth between her legs. She couldn't tell from here whether or not she'd taken Jeff out, but it didn't matter to her. It was the last thing on her mind. Still on the ground, she turned around to see Jake face-down in the dirt, and promptly pushed him over so that he was on his back. His chest was moving up and down, but barely.

"Jake..." she started, the tears still welling up in her eyes. "Jake...why...?"
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ET.Requiem
Confused Writer
[ *  * ]
Jeff snapped out of his trance as Trish started firing at him.

"Wha-"

Most of the bullets she shot at him missed, but 4 of them pierced through his stomach, tearing up his organs and severing his spinal cord at its base. He dropped almost immediately, avoiding the last few that came close to killing him. Unfortunately for him, he had already suffered fatal wounds. He wouldn't last much longer.

"Damn..." This was it. He was going to die. His body went numb when the bullets hit, but he could still felt the impact of each projectile as it hit. Jeff cursed silently, trying to keep the tears from coming as he lay there, crippled and bleeding to death.

Well....It's all over for me. He barely managed to lift his head up. Jeff saw that girl weeping over that boy's body. The kid was probably going to die from those wounds that he had suffered.

I shouldn't have done that....Why was I so dumb? More tears spilled out from his eyes, but these were borne from guilt. He had pretty much killed somebody. As he cried, one last thought came to mind.

It's such a bad idea....but I'm going to die anyways. Maybe...I'll go and speak to them before I do. With an incredible effort, he dragged himself through the mud towards his fellow students. The rain beat down on his crippled body as he slowly made his way towards the two.
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
RaggedDruid
Survivor
[ *  * ]
((Sloan Henriksen, continued from Dork of the Manatee))

Sloan walked slowly, his gun drawn and his daypack slung around his shoulders. One of the first things he noticed was a man who was wounded (presumably mortally), a dead man, and a woman with a gun. He raised his gun, cocked it, turned the safety off, took a deep breath, and began walking towards her. He took a quick look backwards to see if Anna was still around.
Current Character:
Ed Parks - Permanently Denied?
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
dinah_shore
Member Avatar
Lesbians!
[ *  *  * ]
((OOC: Crash gave me permission to touch Trish in awful ways. Haha. Also, it's RUDE to interfere with a death scene.))

The impact of the first bullet shook Jake to his core. A blistering pain erupted in his midsection as he began to fall to his knees, hands clutching at his bloody shirt. When he landed, the crushing weight on his shattered kneecap caused him to bend forward sharply. The scream that had been caught in his throat in the graveyard ripped free from his larynx, echoing painfully in his ears.

His scream was cut short by a second bullet, which blew through most of his teeth on the right side of his jaw, and in its wake left a bloody crater just under his ear. Jake swooned, and dropped face-first to the ground below. He was only vaguely aware of the pressure building in the bridge of his nose, and the pool of blood and rainwater forming rapidly under him. Moments later Jake's nose gave way with a sickening 'snap!' against the wet earth. The sound of gunfire was muffled; he couldn't hear it so much as he could feel it shaking his eardrums.

There was nothing for Jake to think in those moments, his consciousness was dominated by an all-encompassing terror, and the knowledge that he would soon be dead. Hot waves of nausea passed over him as he felt the cold rain pelting his skin and getting in his wounds.

Someone (Trish?) was lifting him out of the mud.

"Srish?" He asked in a small, wet voice.

"Yeah, Jake. I'm here."

Tears completely obstructed his vision. Even though he had been turned on his back, it was still nearly impossible to breathe, let alone talk. He felt some of his loose teeth roll back towards this throat. Not knowing what else to do, he swallowed them.

"Srish, I wa-" he coughed, irritating his stomach wound. Some blood to rose up in his throat, spurting up past his lips and running down the sides of his face. "-'uck!"

Trish struggled to understand what Jake was saying. His voice was too soft to hear over the rain.

"Jake, I...I can't hear you."

"I wath luhkngh fuh-" Fluid was rapidly filling his lungs. He coughed to try and clear his throat again.

"I still don't understand you...please, just try to relax."

Jake tried to speak again, but all he could manage to do was gurgle. The realization that he was drowning in his own blood and brain matter redoubled the panic that was clouding his mind. He grabbed at Trish's shoulder with his left hand, the other pawing urgently on her arm.

"Oh my God..." He could barely hear Trish's voice over the ringing in his ears.

Oh my God, she knows I'm dead. Oh my God...

His grip gradually loosened off her shirt, and dropped heavily to the ground at his side. Slowly, his broken hand slid down her arm, coming to rest over his chest.

Jake Henkie faded away.


BOY #73: JAKE HENKIE -- DECEASED
------------------------------------♥------------------------------------
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ET.Requiem
Confused Writer
[ *  * ]
Oh, fuck. Jeff's eyesight was starting to fade, but he knew that guy just died. He knew that he wasn't going to be lasting much longer than that. With one last effort, he dragged himself even closer to them, stopping a good 4 feet away. He propped himself up on one elbow, pressing his other hand to his stomach to try and slow the bleeding. He knew he should just leave her alone to mourn, but he was dying. Wasting these last few minutes of his life on a snap decision was better than lying down and bleeding out.

"Trish...." His sentence trailed off. Jeff tried to think of something to say. "Look, I'm sorry that I killed your friend. I'm not going to beg you for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I regret what I did, and that I didn't intend to kill him."

He turned over before his elbow could give out. The movement sped up the bleeding, bringing him even closer to death than before.

"At this point, I don't care if you hate me for the rest of your life. Just don't let it drive you crazy or anything."

Jeff could barely speak at this point. He ignored the feeling of coldness as his body heat dropped, but he had to fight to stay conscious.

I don't feel so guilty anymore....Hope she speaks up before I bleed out.
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Cyco
Member Avatar
Suicidal Maniac
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
James had shot into a crouch when the initial gunshots rang out, shooting a glance at Trish as Jake fell, the word "shit" only making it halfway out of his mouth. James knew Jake through Trish and had never gotten close to him, but the few times they'd talked had been entertaining given that they'd both shared a keen interest in Nintendo games. He couldn't know just how devastating it was for Trish to witness her close friend get gunned down, but it was still horrifying on another handful of levels.

Trish made a beeline toward Jake, prompting James to raise a hand and gasp in protest, but his legs felt completely frozen. Everything was happening so fast. Within seconds Trish retaliated on the shooter with a burst from the AK, saving James from really having to do anything past looking around frantically like Punxsutawney Phil. Finally he snapped out of it and raced over to Trish and Jake, the latter of whom was sporting a gruesome expression that said "I just got shot in the face." James stood wordlessly in the background while Jake slipped away through Trish's fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye James caught sight of something crawling along the ground, and turned startled to see that it was the other guy. Somehow he'd survived. Somehow he seemed quite coherent. Somehow James doubted that Trish would forgive him.
Posted Image

v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Crash
Member Avatar
Power Bottom
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(OOC: Trish and I collaborated on this post; she made a considerable contribution. Also, permission to GM James a bit has been granted. Enjoy!)

Almost as soon as she turned Jake over, Trish felt her heart sink even lower than it had already. He looked absolutely terrible. The bullet wound to his midsection had stained his shirt a deep crimson, and both his clothes and his skin were covered in grass and mud. His face was next to unrecognizable; the second bullet wound tore right through his cheek and left a gaping hole underneath his ear near the jawline, and his nose was crooked and bleeding, obviously broken. There were streams of fluid dripping from every orifice on his face; blood dripping out of his ears, nose, and mouth, and tears running down from his eyes. It took every fiber of Trish's body to force herself not to vomit right there and then, but for Jake's sake she resisted. Something in the back of her mind told her that these were probably his final moments, and she had to be strong for him.

"Srish?" Jake whimpered, evidently quite painfully. Her eyes were welling up again, but they were no longer tears of rage. Every second she watched Jake struggle to cling to life, more and more painful memories began to resurface.

-------

Friday, March 2, 2006. 3:24 AM. Her father had been up all night with stomach pains. She could hear his yelps of pain through the floor, making it impossible to sleep. Trish was unreasonably annoyed and angry at him because it was a school night, and her Literature teacher had caught her sleeping almost every day that week. She might have been able to fall asleep that night; but after she'd finally lied down in her bed, he began to cough uncontrollably. It sounded as though all the smoking he'd done over the course of his life had finally caught up with him, like the cirrohsis that had been ravaging his liver for the past two years.

The disease had crippled him. He was fourty-two years old, but he seemed much, much older. His brain had been so affected by the alcohol that his balance was permanently fucked, and his memory was a joke. One could hear him bump into walls when he walked around the house. The refridgerator door would open, then close after a minute of him trying to remember what he wanted in the first place. Then it would open again. He stayed in his room so much, blinds drawn, and slept so little that he hardly knew when it was night or day.

Trish felt her frustration rising the more he coughed. Now she was too afraid to sleep, even though she was exhausted. This wasn't new though, her dad had been sick for a long time and she was used to the stress at that point. It was probably nothing, it never was anything, anyways. Even when he was sent to the hospital, he might be there for a week...but he always came back.

"I can't breathe!" she'd heard her father choke out into the night.

Immediately jumping into action, Trish barrelled down the stairs and down the hallway to her parent's room. She hadn't even stopped to put on her glasses. Flicking on the lights, she saw the flesh-coloured blob that was her dad sitting on the edge of the queen-sized waterbed, wheezing and gasping for air. It seemed as though he was hyperventilating.

"Dad, lie down...do you want me to do CPR?" He shook his head, but he was still spasming and gasping for air.

He'd tried to speak to her.


-------

"Yeah, Jake. I'm here." she said with a shaky voice as she tried to wipe some of Jake's tears. He was in a lot of shock, and didn't seem to notice Trish at all in any physical sense. He didn't try to look at her, or react at all to her touch, and his voice was barely a whisper when he tried to speak again.

"Srish, I wa-" he coughed, a small fountain of blood spurting from his mouth. "-'uck!"

He wasn't making any sense to her. When her dad had tried to speak, her mind was flying, racing in as many directions as possible...but with Jake there was an eerie calm that took over her. Strange, since she hadn't known that her father was dying that night, whereas Jake was very obviously grasping at the last strings of life. By all means, she should have been in a panic. Instead, she wept for her friend's life, a deep sadness taking over her heart.

"Jake..."

"Dad, I..."

"...I can't hear you."

"I wath luhkngh fuh-" Jake struggled to begin again, but his voice was still inaudible over the rain that was pelting down on them. It was worse than her father's hoarse, gasping whisper. She could hear all the fluid in Jake's mouth, and his tongue made wet noises against what was left of his teeth.

"Please Dad, just calm down, okay? I'm calling Mom and then an ambulance."

"I still don't understand you...please, just try to relax." Trish struggled to keep her voice steady and calm. If Jake was going to die here, she wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. In response, she dropped her day pack off her back and onto to the soft earth beside Jake's head. She opened it quickly, fumbling around for her first-aid kit. She recalled there being a syringe and a dose of morphine in the bag; with it, she could...

Suddenly, Jake's eyes flew wide open, as though he'd realized something critically important. His mouth opened wide as he gurgled, struggling for oxygen. Both his hands flew up to grab at Trish's shoulders. His mangled right hand was unable to get a grip on her shirt and thus it slid haphazardly around her upper arm.

"Oh my God!" she gasped. He can't breathe!

Trish wasn't prepared for this part. Her father had stopped hyperventilating by the time the ambulance got there. He'd died later in the hospital because the toxins in his body were too much for it to handle anymore. But this, watching her best friend die before her eyes, having him grasping at her and silently pleading...it was gruesome.

Unfortunately for both of them, there was no ambulance to call this time.

"Jake, wait!" She started, freeing her hands from the confines of her day pack and turning her full attention back to him. It was too little, too late. She felt her shirt come free of Jake's grip, and his other, broken hand slid down her arm and fell into a relaxed position over his chest...which was no longer moving. Trish's attention was drawn steadily away from his torso and back towards his face by the sounds of gurgling and spluttering that had escaped him, which only furthered her confirmation of his doom. His eyes had closed of his own accord in his final moments, and excess fluid from his throat and mouth was beginning to seep out of the small parting between his lips.

"No...please, no..." she pleaded almost childishly, lowering her head and pressing her ear against his chest. As expected, she couldn't hear anything. Even if there had been a sound she probably wouldn't have heard it over the immense throbbing pain she felt in her head and heart, as well as her quite vocal and distressed cries. Trish had now lost all of her composure, and before she knew it she was grabbing handfuls of Jake's shirt while she relentlessly sobbed into it. Her first brush with death had been horrible, but this was absolutely devastating. Jake and Jeff were dead, and ultimately, she was responsible for all of it. Jake wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for her persistent nagging, and if he hadn't have died she never would've shot Jeff in response. On top of the unbearable pain that came with Jake's final moments, her guilty conscience was weighing her down heavily. She had just effectively murdered two people.

Trish had been so absorbed by grief that she'd understandably failed to notice Jeff inching his way towards her through the dirt. When he first spoke she found herself returning to her senses, even if only slightly, and paying attention. His voice normally would have startled her; for that matter, so would the fact that he was alive at all, but she doubted she had enough emotion left to feel anything another than despair at the moment. With much effort she managed to let go of Jake's shirt and pry herself away from his body, then turn around to face Jeff. He was propped up on one elbow and covered in dirt and blood, and his other free hand had been used to drag himself through the dirt, judging by the look of it. He no longer had his gun on him; she assumed that with his injuries he couldn't manage to carry it anymore, but at the moment that provided little to no relief.

His apology evoked even less of a response in Trish than his presence had, but what he said next revived whatever fragment of emotion she still had in her. She was about to prove herself wrong.

"At this point, I don't care if you hate me for the rest of your life. Just don't let it drive you crazy or anything."

"Drive me crazy!? You just fucking killed my best friend! FUCK YOU!" she erupted, stifling back the seemingly endless streams of tears the entire time. "You...you fucking cunt! You murdered him! He didn't deserve to die like that! He was," Trish stuttered a little and began to cry again. "He was so scared..."

Like mum said about dad when he...

There were so many things about her father that she had pushed back, that she didn't think about anymore. All the times he'd hurt her and her mom, and made her feel horrible. The feelings of inadequacy and self-resentment that she'd harboured for years as a result of his constant haranguing. Arguments that left her so frustrated that she felt driven to cut herself, or to bang her head against the wall repeatedly. After he'd gotten really sick, he'd reached out to her for forgiveness countless times, and every time Trish would push him away. She couldn't care less about what he wanted.

"I love you, honey. I'm so proud of you."

Whatever, Dad. "Love you too."

"I just wanted to tell you..."


By then, though, she'd already tuned him out. She regretted nothing more than allowing her father to leave this world without her forgiveness. He thought she hated him.

Could she do the same to Jeff?

"...Okay," she started, sniffing and swallowing back some of the mucus that had been building up in her throat. She wiped her eyes with both her hands. "It's okay..." At first, she wasn't sure whether or not she was sincere about her forgiveness. Her conscience won out however, and she realized that despite the fact that Jeff had killed Jake, he must've had his reasons too. He was probably just as scared as Jake was. On top of that, his murder of Jake hardly justified her ending his life as well. "I'm sorry..." she managed, with a tone that almost suggested that she was the one seeking forgiveness.

The sombre atmosphere was effectively destroyed when Trish lifted her eyes from Jeff's face, noticing a boy walking towards her with his gun drawn. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that she'd forgotten to reload the AK-47 that now lay beside her. Thankfully, however, James seemed to be one step ahead of her. Sometime in the midst of her exchange with Jeff he'd retrieved the Ballester-Molina from its resting place near Jeff's day pack, which he was also carrying. James had the gun pointed at the newcomer. She wasn't sure whether or not he could see James through the mist, but either way, she felt a hell of a lot safer. She'd have to remember to thank him for being so observant later.

The boy with the gun took a look over his shoulder and behind him, and seizing the opportunity she'd been presented with, Trish snagged one of the clips from her open day pack on the ground and slammed it into the rifle. She was sure he'd probably noticed, but they had the upper hand now. Trish zipped up her day pack and threw it over her back, getting up and pointing the AK-47 at Sloan. The tears were almost gone now.

"...What do you want?"
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Babbling Brook · Next Topic »
Locked Topic

SOTF Affiliates:
RPG-D