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D-Day
Topic Started: Aug 8 2010, 10:27 AM (8,162 Views)
Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Roland Hayes continued from False Awakening))

Four months ago, Roland began to exercise. He'd never had much of an aptitude for physical tasks; he found intellectual things (and couch potato behavior) more entertaining, and whenever he tried to do much in the way of physical activity, he found his muscles aching, his heart protesting, and his breath shortening.

Thus the pattern continued until Roland realized something about college. He would be hiking around a campus five days a week, and he could stand to drop a few pounds to reduce the strain on his legs. So he began running for about half an hour, three days a week. Everyone in the family supported the decision, especially Lily. Her approval felt a bit embarrassing to him, because she was a svelte and active gymnast.

But he continued jogging on a treadmill up until now, each time leaving the gym fully lubricated with sweat. This memory popped into Roland's head as he made his way down the beach to where the rest of his team went. He got a headstart on Jason, who still managed to overtake him by several feet, and wound up panting as he got within visual range of the situation.

In addition to his group, there were three more people he could see, but the only one he knew was Bridget Connolly, who was... tending to the wounds of the Asian girl on the ground. Oh shit.

She and the other boy, that scraggly-looking, grungy guy, looked a bit dismayed at his team's arrival, but Sarah looked like she knew what she was doing, so they accepted her. Jason, on the other hand, looked to be continuing his streak of being a complete charisma vacuum when Bridget snapped at him, high on stress and nerves.

"She's right, Jason," he added. "We should stand back and let these guys do their thing. Just limit it to like, the people who know first aid best. Man, I wish Lily was here!" He stood back about ten feet from Kimberly's prone body, looking at the blood staining Sarah's black outfit and otherwise being completely useless.

He started wishing for an opportunity to use Dutchy's harpoon.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
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V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
The scene on the beach resembled a drop of water hanging on the edge of a roof as another drop rushed down and collided with it. Their combined mass proved too much to cling to the edge, and so mush of the water ended up falling to the ground.

Bridget's words struck a nerve with Jason, and he ran off, leaving a group he never really belonged with in the first place. Fine with Roland. He watched Jason walk off into the distance, then turned back to the group around Kim to find that there was one less person there. After a quick recount, he realized that it was the grungy-looking guy who left. Wait, no, there was someone else missing...

Roland whipped his head to the right and saw Dutchy almost completely submerged in water. "The fuck are you doing?" he shouted, walking into the water and wading after him. Unlike Dutchy, Roland was definitely not well-adjusted to the cold, and he found his teeth chattering as he swam after Dutchy, who started coughing as soon as Roland's feet lost contact with the sand. Roland was about to try and save him when the wave hit, disorienting him and tossing him back onto the beach.

That was when he noticed that only Bridget and Sarah, the two people stabilizing Kim, sat near her at all. Brendan instead opted to follow Jason and the other kid's lead and run like a fucking coward.

"BRENDAN!" Roland shouted, "GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKER!" He'd relapsed into his earlier state of rage when he saw people abandoning Kim. He'd told them to give Bridget and Sarah some space, not to leave them completely! What the hell were they all thinking?

He picked up his harpoon, previously abandoned when he saw Dutchy. At least Dutchy stayed. Roland considered Dutchy to be a much closer friend then all of those other people who left. Even Brendan was barely above acquaintance level. He didn't know what would happen if an actual friend turned tail and ran. His sanity was stretched thin as it was.

Or so he thought, neglecting to consider what might happen in the days to come.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
It took Roland a few seconds to realize how insane and paranoid and vindictive he must have looked shouting bloody murder at a student who had fled too far to hear him in any case. He turned and looked at the rest of the crew, at Sarah, Dutchy, and the two other girls he didn't really know. They didn't need someone scary to protect them right now. They needed a gentler touch, one a bit too gentle for him to provide at the moment.

The least he could do was drop the harpoon. No sooner had it left the sand at his feet than it landed on it again. Roland was still close enough to keep it from being stolen, unless he underestimated the speed of the student body. It was his alone, unless Dutchy or someone else from the group asked him for it.

Once Roland's thoughts turned to Dutchy, the smaller Icelandic boy apologized for whatever the fuck he was doing, and Roland found himself feeling even worse for everyone. He had to swallow a couple of times and wipe his eyes to keep his cool. Dutchy started talking and continued for over a minute. Roland could have said something it he really wanted to, but there wasn't much he really wanted to say. Better to let Dutchy take the lead this time. The only time he was tempted to speak, when Dutchy talked about sailing away in a boat, Dutchy connected the dots before Roland could do it for him.

Then, like a train derailing, Dutchy's expression changed, and Roland's with it. The little blond boy raced toward one of the bags, Roland didn't know which, and tore it open for what turned out to be the map. Once he had it, he shouted for Roland to follow him and took off down the beach without so much as look back to the others.

"Dutchy, wait! Where are you going?" Roland shouted before darting his head back to look at Sarah. He flipped between those opposite directions before booking after Dutchy. "We'll be right back, guys! We promise!" he shouted to them before taking off after Dutchy.

So in the end, he did what Brendan did, and hoping that giving them fair warning didn't make him a hypocrite.
Edited by Solitair, Sep 18 2010, 10:51 PM.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Solitair
Member Avatar
Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
"COME BACK!"

Oh shit. Roland heard Sarah shout, having snapped the limits of her own patience. Now he knew what Brendan felt. If he'd heard Roland. Which he didn't. He faltered a bit and turned around, noticing that he'd made surprising distance in the time it took for her to shout at them. Then he turned back and noticed that Dutchy stopped twenty feet away and was searching through the sand, babbling about how he beat the game, THEY beat the game.

Truth be told, Roland wasn't sure how to react to this. Was Dutchy really struck by a profound insight, the observation that could bust this puzzle wide open? Or had he snapped from the stress and lost all sense of restraint. Roland was ready to give him that restraint if it was the latter case, and he very nearly got that chance when he realized that it was a camera that Dutchy had found.

"Dutchy, NO!" he shouted, rushing towards him, thinking that he was going to do something with the camera. Danya specifically said that was a death sentence! But no, Dutchy just wanted to make his own announcement for now. Roland skidded to a halt behind Dutchy, getting sand in his shoes, and had to perform a precarious balancing act to clean them out. Of course this was the time that Dutchy moved aside and let the lens capture him as well.

When Dutchy told him to wave, he was so struck by the awkwardness of the situation that he froze instead, toppling to the ground. It took him a while to get up and dust himself off, but he got to listen to the full scope of Dutchy's panicked ramblings. At this point, Roland thought, he was saying anything that came to mind, anything that kept him from collapsing in despair, from going to sleep and never waking up.

Fine. Whatever he had to do. He leaned over Dutchy's shoulder and looked just to the right of the camera. Letting everything out was well and good, but what if Dutchy revealed whatever idea he had up his sleeve here? That would blow any chance of it ever working, because then Danya would see it!

Roland was fully prepared to gag Dutchy to keep him from sharing it audibly. But as it turned out, he didn't need to. All Dutchy did was pull out a map, funneling information to the viewers at home.

It... he guessed it wasn't a bad plan? Out of all his findings on the show, findings originating from an odd attractive hatred for it and everyone who made it, he'd never heard of a student showing the map to the camera. In fact, it was actually kind of clever. Maybe if someone on the island found some sort of unique detail about it that the bad guys missed, they'd be safe and sound.

But then he thought of why the plan would fail. Most importantly, Dutchy's collar was whole. Roland remembered that Danya would terminate all escape attempts the hard way. So Roland got a sneaking suspicion that Danya was laughing his lumpy ass off at Dutchy because B: he could cut the feed whenever he wanted. So Roland assumed, anyway. Who's to say that the show was live? Who's to say that Danya didn't have complete control about what the public saw?

And who's to say that the American government, even if they did see Dutchy's map, would ever have the brains or the balls to do something useful with it? Roland was honestly surprised that the Homeland Security Chief hadn't had his brains jackhammered out by a grieving parent for failing to prevent four mass abductions on American soil. Fucking inexcusable!

It was all Roland could do to look defiant for the camera, because his heart wasn't into it at all. Leave it to Dutchy to have any hope at all that the administration could save them. But if Roland pointed out the obvious, Dutchy would have nothing left. He'd spend the last days of his life grief-stricken and insane. He waited politely for Dutchy to wear himself out, then reached down and put his hand on Dutchy's shoulder.

"That w-was beautiful, man," he said. He couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "Now come on. Sarah's pissed at us; we'd better get back there and calm her down."
Edited by Solitair, Sep 21 2010, 03:47 PM.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Solitair
Member Avatar
Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
As Roland walked with Dutchy back down the beach to Sarah and the other two girls, he found it difficult to resist hyperventilating and generally panicking, especially with Dutchy's nattering voice excitedly discussing with him whatever parts of his plan he thought up at the moment. For the most part, Roland just responded by nodding and muttering generic agreement noises. The only thing he really reacted to was Dutchy's observation that there were microphones in the collars, so they shouldn't speak carelessly about their plans like Dutchy himself had been doing not five fucking minutes ago. "Yeah, definitely. Talking without talking. Let's do that."

Then Sarah collapsed and screamed, and Roland just about did the same damn thing. Everything was piling up too fast for him to deal with, and he didn't know what to do about any of it.

Well, he knew one thing had to happen. They had to get off this damn beach. He almost couldn't remember a time when they weren't on it. If he never saw it again, it'd be too soon. They'd been on the beach for an eternity. He reiterated the concept several times over in his mind as he ran with Dutchy towards Sarah.

Dutchy started to get upset about Sarah's condition, and for a moment Roland felt a little guilty about his annoyance at Dutchy's brief moment of hope. As false as that hope had turned out to be, it made Dutchy happy, had probably prolonged the fracture of his mind from all of the ugliness here on Hellmurder Island. Not that it mattered anymore. It was all gone now.

Then there was the other girl, the one who seemed perfectly alright. She got to her feet unsteadily and began to check her map and compass. She read his fucking mind. He checked himself to confirm that he had his daypack and harpoon with him still. Good.

She told everyone to get ready to leave, and started walking into the woods. He nodded to the rest of them and slowly followed her out.

((Roland Hayes continued in Dimer))
Edited by Solitair, Oct 15 2010, 04:06 PM.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
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