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One of Three
Topic Started: Aug 10 2010, 10:32 AM (6,512 Views)
Namira
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The trees abruptly fell away and there she was standing out in the open. Rosa stopped for a few seconds and looked at the building that had appeared in front of her. A little cottage in the lee of the looming mountain above her, seemingly uninhabited, although that seemed a foolish thing to take for granted. She let out a little sigh. This wasn't what she'd been searching after since beginning to walk, but it would do for now. Rosa had been after an escape from this suffocating thicket of trees, but a momentary shelter would work wonders.

If, that was, it was safe. Rosa didn't like her chances in any kind of fight, and she was too cynical to believe that nobody at all would be playing. It wouldn't be everyone, hell, it probably wouldn't even be most people, but there would be enough. That, she firmly believed. So caution was the best option, because walkie-talkies weren't going to allow her to get out of trouble if she found herself beleagured, no way.

Rosa circled the house, avoiding moving directly towards the front entrance. Maybe there was a back door, maybe not, but she needed to case the place a little first. Approaching the building finally, Rosa peered through one of the windows; a little office of sorts, filled with filing cabinets and a desk. Next window, a bedroom, king-size and a chest of drawers with a TV on top of it. Moving on, Rosa found herself looking into an open-plan room, a kitchen area, sofa and a wrecked coffee table clearly visible. There was no sign of anybody in there.

Was that safe? Probably not, but it was as close to it as Rosa was likely to get. Returning to the front of the cottage, the Fiametta opened the door and stepped inside, looking around constantly to ensure that there was nobody lurking in the shadows that she'd missed whilst looking through the windows. Thankfully, there were no such people forthcoming, and Rosa sagged ever so slightly, relieved.

All the same, there was nothing stopping company from arriving and Rosa cast about, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn't want people to be able to just... waltz straight in whilst she was taking a few moments to compose herself and relax. There was a lock on the door, but Rosa was about as likely to find that as for both of her siblings to materialise out of thin air. Looking over to the lounge area, Rosa hit upon an idea and walked over. The armchair situated there was pretty sizeable... but it didn't seem impossible to move.

Rosa gave pushing it a try and was reward with a very slight motion. She gritted her teeth and groaned. This wasn't going to be easy. Putting her back into it, Rosa heaved on the chair, getting it to slide inch by inch along the carpet and towards the door. For somebody of her physique, it was a strain and Rosa was breathing hard, sweating slightly by the time that she was done. But at the end of it all, the armchair was wedged firmly behind the front door. It would certainly make getting in through there a tricky prospect.

Only then did Rosa relax, and the loss of tension was small. She immediately headed for where she remembered the bedroom being, leaving the door open after entering and tossing both daypack and duffle bag carelessly onto the floor. Eyeing the window, Rosa went over to it and drew the curtains, meaning at least that nobody could just look in and see her. Checking the windows had been easy, if there were players out there, Rosa didn't want to make their job easier. Somebody had left a heap of stuff on the bed, a number of items which Rosa just swept off onto the floor without bothering to examine.

Finally, she sat on the bed and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. Rosa rocked back and forward a few times, thinking on how utterly screwed up this situation was, how badly she just wanted to be back home and then sticking on one other subject. How Frankie and Ily were doing.

Because they were her sister and brother, no more than five minutes removed from her in age. Ilario might have been a bore and a lecturer, and Frankie might have been a pothead, but they were family. They watched out for each ot-... well, Ilario mostly watched out for her and Frankie, but for each of their issues with one another, they were still close.

Rosa didn't want to think about either of them getting hurt.

As for me... well, I'm more fucked than that one time at that guy's party when he asked if his friend could j-...

She shook her head. Not the sort of thing that she needed to be thinking about right now. Definitely not. Rosa sighed, then thought back to the one final member of her family and gave a hollow laugh. She looked up, then spoke into thin air.

"Hey Junior. You notice me yet?"

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Oh god... What have I gotten myself into?


G57: Vera Osborne start


At first, she just didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to admit the awful truth about where she was, about what she had just become a part of.

She used to watch SotF a lot back at home. Well, her parents did anyway. She just occasionally sat in when there was nothing else interesting going on. She remembered this one episode when there were these two students, a guy and a girl, who ended up in a firefight with some girl who was hiding in a radio tower or something... By the end of the fight, the guy had been shot violently in the chest and the other girl (The one who'd opened fire upon them in the first place) ended up getting her head beaten in with an AK47. The only reason why this hadn't permanently scarred Vera for life was because she'd convinced herself back then that it wasn't real, that the whole thing was an elaborate hoax...

Sadly, as she awoke to find herself stuck in the middle of the woods with a gun in her bag in became all too obvious that it'd been real the whole time.

That was half an hour ago though... After she'd finally accepted the fact that she was actually taking part in SotF, the most sickening gameshow she ever had the misfortune of watching, she quickly made her way through the woods, clutching the weapon by her side. She hadn't the slightest idea what she should do, where she should go, who she should trust, anything. All she knew was that she had to find somewhere safe. Somewhere she could straighten up her thoughts, get an actual idea as to what to do next. She hadn't encountered anyone... Yet. She knew it'd only be a matter of time before that'd be the case. She just hoped that she wouldn't be forced to use that gun she'd received as her weapon...

That gun... The Intratec DC-9. She remembered her father's attempts at teaching her about that firearm personally... Back then, she'd just brushed him off as a nuisance for telling her information that wouldn't really come of any real use to her... Now however, she was struggling hard to remember what little information she'd actually bothered to remember about it...

Eventually, she happened to come across what looked like a fairly innocent looking cottage, standing there alone against . She took cover behind a nearby tree, her eyes darting about the house for any signs of life. From where she was standing, the house looked more-or-less empty. There weren't any signs of any recent struggles, such as blood or broken windows. As far as Vera could tell, the house was untouched.

Even so, she decided to take precautions nevertheless. She moved quickly towards the house, taking care to make as little noise as possible. She didn't want to stand out in the open like a sore thumb, but neither did she wish to make a huge racket. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as she tried to figure out what to do next.

Well... What now? I can't just waltz in through the front door like a lemming... First things first, i'm going to have to see if anybody's inside before I make any silly decisions like that...

She took a deep breath, and moved sideways towards the window. She took a quick peek inside, her eyes darting about the place looking for any signs of life. Everything seemed fairly ordinary at first. The window was above a small sink, and in the corner of the room she could make out a sofa and two small tables...

But then she spotted the armchair leaning against the door.

What on earth is that doing there? Surely it'd make more sense for it to be... Oh... Oh god...

Her eyes widened as she quickly moved her head out of view, clutching her mouth to stop herself from saying something out loud by accident. That was as telltale sign as any that somebody had already taken refuge there...

Damn! What now? Should I look for somewhere else? There has to be plenty of places out there for me to stay...

No... Can't do that. I didn't find this place just so I could run away at the first sign of life... Who knows, maybe whoever's inside is friendly? It’s not like everyone on the island is a raging lunatic by now... Besides, even if whoever was in there WAS dangerous, look who's holding the submachinegun? If it really came down to it, I could simply scare them off can't I? Shouldn't be TOO hard to do so...

Only... How should I get in? Should I knock? No, too blunt... I'm going to have to sneak in somehow, through one of the windows or something... Wait, but surely that'd just scare them?

Damnit! This is hard... I don't want to scare whoever's in there, but at the same time I don't want to make myself a huge target... Shit, shit, SHIT!


Just then, she heard a sudden laugh from within the building, which caused her to jump somewhat in surprise.

Alright, through the window it is then...

She checked the kitchen window first, only to notice that it was shut fairly tight. She briefly considered the possibility of breaking it open, but shot those thoughts down almost instantly. That'd be even worse than knocking.

She sneaked around the side of the building, straight past the front door, until she had made it to the next window. She peeked inside, biting her lip as she prayed to god that nobody was inside. Luck seemed to be on her side that day as she was relieved to see nobody hiding within the small room, which from the looks of things was an office of some kind. To make matters even better, she also spotted that the window happened to be slightly ajar.

Phew... Now, for the hard part...

She took another deep breath as she put the gun down on the floor for a second and slowly lifted the window up, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Eventually, she made an opening big enough for her to fit through, and breathed a sigh of relief as she retrieved her gun from the floor.

Okay then... 3, 2, 1...

She got onto the ledge of the windowsill and began to make her way through it, trying her very best to not make sound. She was doing well at first, after getting her right foot onto the floor without too much noise. It seemed as though everything was going along just as intended...

That was when she slipped over the pile of loose papers on the desk.

Without thinking, her arm shot out for something to grab onto. Sadly, that something happened to be the telephone, which only made her crash onto the office floor all the more louder. She swore loudly in pain before silencing herself, suddenly remembering the fact that she wasn't alone in this building. She knew she barely had seconds before whoever was here would come along and investigate, and instinctively aimed her gun at the door, holding it tightly with both her hands as she lay back on the floor in a sprawled mess amongst all the papers...

For the love of god, don't tell me i've made the stupidest mistake of my life right now...
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Namira
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Rosa sat there on the bed for a while just thinking to herself, trying to organise her jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order and not meeting with much success. This was too insane to reconcile so easily, and Rosa didn't make a lot of headway. But at the least, it was a little less time on her feet and some more time where she didn't have to worry about looking for killers behind every tree. Security did a lot for a girl's nerves.

Well, up until there was an almighty goddamn crash in the other room and Rosa sprang up from the bed, heart hammering. The sound had been slightly muffled (it was followed by the sound of somebody swearing as she got to her feet), so it could only have come from the little office she'd looked into earlier.

Motherfucker! How the hell'd they get in?!

Rosa didn't have time to dwell on what she'd overlooked though, somebody had broken inside, which wasn't exactly a good sign. Someone more innocent might have knocked on the door or called out, this person had deliberately broken in, which meant they hadn't been looking to attract attention.

...Lucky for her they'd somehow fucked up, then.

Rosa didn't waste a second of time. Whatever mishap the intruder had suffered wasn't liable to delay them for long, and Rosa simply couldn't afford to wait. She couldn't get out quickly enough, so that meant one simple thing: time to hide. Bursting from the bedroom, Rosa's eyes roved around desperately before settling on the living area. It wasn't the best of places, but it was about the only option.

Because no way in FUCK was she hiding under the bed.

She sprinted over to that area, vaulted the couch, and bunkered her ass down directly behind it, nerves jangling. This was a stupid plan. This was a moronic goddamn idea. Hiding? What the fuck.

But hey, what else could she do, talk them to death?

Death dealing devices walkie talkies weren't.
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Behold, in a world where those with their ribs showing are plagued by muscled villainy! Woe betide the hungry and the famished, unable to put up a struggle to feed themselves! This world holds but ONE hero...

Look, up there, in the sky! Is it a cumulonimus cloud?

It is a sumo wrestler launced by a trebuchet?

Is it the Hindenburg, back from the Zeppelin graveyard?

Is it a total solar eclipse?

No... it is none of those things, for it is... LARDASS MAN! Fighting for adipose tissue and the right to be well fed to the point of severe obesity, no health food or exercise gurus are a match for him! He's slower than a speeding glacier, softer than a pile of jelly donuts, and able to leap several blades of grass in a single bound! Rejoice, for... Lardass man is HERE!


With a choking, gurgling cough, Craig Hoyle woke up from his dream to hear a shattering of glass.

Craig Hoyle, Male Student no. 083 Start

The sun... it was way too bright. Waaaaaaay too bright. Craig squinted his eyes shut as he struggled to sit up, putting a tremendous strain on his chest. This wasn't anything too unusual, though. It was with a great deal of shame that Craig was never able to bend very much, as his chest literally would end up getting blocked by his belly. Yeah, touching his toes in gym class was always a nightmare. At least the gym teachers always stood his story of having a glandular problem.

Unfortunately, the lack of this ability was coming back to bite Craig in the ass. If he were any more coherent, he might have mumbled 'I'm falling and I can't get up!'. It came out as something more along the lines of 'grbbph... beeeghaaa!', his grunts and groans coinciding with his efforts to roll onto this side and push himself up that way. His arms screamed at him, for the sake of all that was holy and even moderately in shape, for him to stop. Craig was notortiously stubborn in his waking moments, though, and manged to at least get his knees under him. Good. That was a good first step.

Craig tried to take in where he was, but his vision was blurred, still. Where were his glasses? Still on his hands and knees, he pawed and groped all over the ground, looking for them. He couldn't see anything with his glasses, and he knew it. A few minutes later, there were still no glasses, and Craig groaned again at the revelation that he might be stuck with just sitting in the front today at school. But if he was in the front, then everybody could look at his rolls, and how much of him hung over the chair and desk. If that happened...

Craig brought his hands to his face in anguish, only to feel two things. First, his wrist pressed against some drool, partially dried and caked around his mouth. Gross. More importantly, however, he felt a bit of cold metal, unmistakable rims...

His glasses had been on his face the whole time.

Feeling a little sheepish, Craig wiped away at his mouth to rid himself of the irritating drool, and began the careful process of standing up. Slowly, sloooowly... he nearly got off of one of his knees before a wave of wooziness, bordering on nausea, set in. Shit... that wasn't good. Craig slammed his hands back down to grip at the dirt, and he began to cough and hack. He aimed to feel like Superman, but was feeling a bit more like Professor X after a beatdown by the Juggernaut. A few moments later, however, the waves passed, and Craig finally found himself on his feet, though he wobbled a bit.

He now had to figure out just where the hell he was. He wasn't nearly awake enough to comprehend the current situation, much less worry about it. There were... some piles of dirt around him, and once he managed to crane his neck down, a duffle-bag looking thing with 'B083' stenciled into it. Looked kind of homely, but something in Craig's mind told him that this was his. Or, if it wasn't his, he could at least hold on to it. Kneeling down and putting all of his strength into the one leg that poised to push off, Craig grabbed the back, took a deep breath, and stood up.

Shit, this thing's heavy! ... No... I'm the juggernaut, I can do this... come on, come on!

Craig muttered more incoherent babble that was supposed to match up with his mental mantra, and he slowly began to walk forward. He didn't really know where he was going at the moment, but his vision was clearing up, and that building nearby looked promising. He could finish waking up in there, where it wasn't so bright. And itchy. But mostly bright.

After getting his goal in mind, he lowered his head, averting his eyes away from the sun. As he navigated through the torn up terrain, he found a body on the ground. Even in his half-awake state, his legs got a bit weak at first. Was he... dead?

No... no, he's breathing. Silly! Why would there be a dead body out here?

Craig took a moment to carefully observe the boy, watching the telltale signs of life. Yeah, his back was definitely rising and falling a little. Not dead, but sort of looked it... about as beat as he was just a few moments ago. Oh... w-wait, that's Trent! Ha... Trent's passed out... don't wanna wake him, though... Craig thought to himself, figuring waking anybody up at any time was usually a bad idea. Taking another deep breath to concentrate, he lifted a foot up, leaned forward, and stepped over the sleeping boy. His other foot was close to follow, and he was free to continue walking to the strange, cabin-like-building just a hop, skip, and sleepy, lurching walk away.
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Fiori
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She waited. Expecting any second that whoever was here would burst though the door to investigate. Either that, or to open to door ajar so that they may spray her with bullets... Whichever came first.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before she started hearing noises on the other side of the door in front of her. She took a deep breath, expecting the door to open any moment now... Only, it didn't. Instead, whoever was out there had run away from the door, probably to make their way out of the front door or something...

Wait... The front door was jammed, wasn't it? Hence the reason I went through the bloody window in the first place... Shit, I knew this was a bad idea!

She waited a few seconds longer before finally deciding to get up, her attention still firmly on the door. Whoever was out there could be setting up a trap, readying themselves to spring it upon her the second they got the chance. She briefly considered heading out the way she came, maybe looking for somewhere else whilst she was still alive... But, she held her submachinegun steadily in her hands, she felt a surge of confidence. If whoever was out there was waiting for her, she'd be able to fend off any potential ambushes...

Even so, she still took caution as she opened to door slowly, peaking through the crack to see if anyone was waiting. She couldn't see anyone so far... Maybe they where already gone? No, she'd of heard one of the windows breaking if that was the case... Or the front door being opened. Whoever it was who'd blocked the door was still in here, waiting for her to come out.

As she was about to open the door fully, a thought suddenly came up.

Wait, wait... What if i'm making the wrong approach here? If they where playing, then surely they'd of already tried to kill you by now? Maybe they're just scared... After all, why shouldn't they? You just went ahead and broke in without asking! They have every right to be scared shitless of you by now...

Either way, they already know you're here... No point in being sneaky anymore... After all, look where that got you! Maybe I should actually try talking to them instead... After all, making allies is a far better idea than making enemies. Especially HERE of all places...


She gulped, clearing her throat before finally speaking...

"Look, uh... I don't want to cause any trouble or anything..."

Too late for that, isn't it?

"... And I honestly wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust me one iota. Especially seeing as i've, uh, just broken in through the window... Which, in hindsight, was probably a really stupid idea in the first place..."

Way to state the obvious, Vera...

"... But all I want is a place to hold out, thats all... I, I was afraid that whoever was in here might be playing, hence my rude entrance earlier..."

Great stutter there... I'm sure that'll give off the right impression, no doubt about it...

"... And I don't know about you, but the last thing I want is to end up in a Mexican stand-off here... That probably wouldn't end well for either of us..."

No shit it wouldn't...

"So... How about we have some kind of truce, or something? Come to some mutual agreement so we don't end up blowing each other's head off like idiots..."

She bit her lip, anxiously waiting for a reply. If this all went well, she may have found herself a potential ally...

If it went badly on the other hand... Well, she prayed it wouldn't come to that.
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Hallucinojelly
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B044: Trent Savage - Start

The coast was clear. He sprang forth from the undergrowth as though his arms had turned into legs, and found himself at what appeared to be a small cabin of sorts, nestled here among the mountains. His fingers wrapping themselves tightly around the handle of his weapon - kanabo, it was called, though Trent had never heard of such a thing - and he tip-toed cautiously up the path leading to the front door. His daypack, numbered "B044", along with his duffel bag, hung loosely off his shoulders, causing him some discomfort as he had to keep stopping to make sure they didn't slip away from his oddly-proportioned frame, and the sweat was already building in blotches beneath his armpits and around the small of his back. But this was not the time to start caring about appearances (or odours), because now the boy had made it to the tiny building, his weapon raising higher and higher the closer he got to the door.

Finally, he made it, but someone troubled him as he clasped his hand around the cold metal of the handle. This was too easy, he thought, far too easy. How could a place like this be so empty with so many students running around out there? So many of his classmates would have a weapon like his, or worse, something deadlier, more precise - a gun, for instance. He gulped. Someone could be in there, right now, waiting for him to waltz on in with a machine gun primed and eager to send an army of metal his way. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all; this wasn't like a game. In a game, you have game overs, but you never die. You just try again and hope for the best. There'd be no retries here though, no second chances. If he died, that would be it, and that would be the end of "B044", whatever that number meant.

Yeah, I should just-

"About three hours, give or take. Depends on how well you feel hiking. We can take this path around."

The quietest gasp abandoned him and he covered his mouth with his free hand. There were people in there! Now what? What if they came out, right now? How many were there? Panic took hold of him and he bolted around the cabin, only looking back once he found shelter behind one of the larger mounds of dug-up earth. His heart pounded against his chest, a fierce mixture of adrenaline and terror beating wildly like an electric samba in his veins. He didn't know who was in there, or even if they had any dangerous intent at all, but the fact was he'd left himself open just now, and that was a mistake he couldn't afford to make again.

That is, a mistake he couldn't make later, as he slowly brought his head up over the top of the mound. The cold breeze now made an impression on the boy as it whipped around his mangy hair, and he shivered as the T-shirt he wore provided no amount of protection against the harsh, bitter wind. From here, he could only see the back of the ranger's station, along with the staircase leading up to the front door as the cabin sat raised above the ground. That was when he noticed a pair of legs descend the stairs, alerting him to how correct his estimation had been. Another pair followed, meaning that two people must have already looted the place (damn, why didn't he get here sooner?), but at least they were finally leaving.

In an attempt to hoist himself up, he forgot how unsettled the pile he was lying on actually was, and sure enough he found himself sliding down to the bottom of the dirt-heap with a frustrated groan. Having been awake for over an hour, it would make sense to think that he would be over the effects of the knock-out gas by now, but with his adamant refusal to sleep when there was gaming to be done, his body wasn't used to the wonderful properties that came with more than 4 hours sleep. Essentially, his body was trying to trip him, as though it was working against him as he tried over and over to climb up the damn molehill, but after seventeen failed attempts to do so he finally let his limbs get their own way.

So he sat, for a while, at the base of the mound, his head resting on the rocky surface of the mountain while his eyes looked towards the blue for some kind of inspiration. Of course he knew that he could easily just walk around that heap of dirt, but that wasn't the point. He had a goal now, his own mountain to climb. It'd just be simpler if it didn't keep falling away from him every time he had to reach around to keep his bags from slipping away. Lord knows that he didn't want to have to slide back down to get them again, that'd be the worst. No, he had to do this. It was training, right? If he could somehow get to the top of the mound then he figured that'd be a good sign of things to come.

Okay, last time.

Shoving his weapon into his bag, he stared up at the hill as he psyched himself up. Then, taking a deep breath, he lunged forward, hands tearing away at the soil as he scrambled up and up, his heart working at a fever pitch as his legs struggled against the steep climb. He was doing it, he was really doing it! He was going to- YES! Yes! He'd made it! He'd made it to the very top, oh, happy days! "Hah!" He called out, panting with every breath after as his rested his hands on his knees. "Hah... I... hah! I did it! Ha-AH!" His victory, however, would be cut short. The ground beneath him gave way to his heavy breathing and he tumbled awkwardly down the mound, his feet flying over his head while his duffel bag flew from his shoulder. With a sickening smack, his head met the hard ground below, and he lay motionless, face-down in the dirt.

Somewhere nearby, the distinct shape of Craig Hoyle began to stir.
Edited by Hallucinojelly, Aug 11 2010, 11:32 AM.
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Namira
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Rosa stayed hunched down behind the sofa, low as she could manage without somehow compressing her bones and shrinking. She was already regretting this, mostly because she'd fucking forgotten to pick up any of her shit and had left it all in the bedroom. Might as well as hold up a glowing neon sign saying 'I'm here! I'm here! Shoot me in the face!'. Even if Rosa somehow didn't end up getting her idiot self killed for that mistake, she still had no way of recovering everything. Strictly speaking she could have bailed straight out of the windows behind her, but that would've left her without any supplies or spare clothes.

So this was where panic had brought her and unfortunately this was where she was going to have to stay for the time being.

Then, out of the blue, a voice called out. It was still deadened by the person speaking being on the other side of a door, but Rosa heard them well enough. Another girl... but not somebody Rosa was familiar enough with to identify through sound alone. Dammit. She listened without saying a word, smirking at what she heard from whoever the intruder was.

Okay, the facts were that this girl was more than likely telling the truth, Rosa could understand the sentiment completely. Entering through a window was just the next progression of what Rosa had herself done. Anyway, the motives that were being claimed were more or less the same; wanting a place to hide out for a bit where you didn't have to worry about somebody popping up out of every shadow.

But the thing was... enough doubt existed in Rosa's mind for her to distrust this mystery voice. How the hell did she know whether this was just a trick? Rosa knew that if she was playing, she wouldn't just jump into every situation with all guns blazing, particularly if she didn't have very good weapons. She'd looked to take things a little more subtly, minimise the effort and maximise the gains. Trickery worked a lot better than brute force.

It was kinda like flirting.

So Rosa didn't say a word from her little hiding place, just waited for the other to make the first move. Rosa didn't want to get into a fight, but she had to get the measure of whoever had broken in before she welcomed them with open arms. Doing that would be an apt way to get burned. Besides, there was no harm in avoiding tipping her hand. This other girl clearly had a gun (well, unless they were bluffing about the mexican standoff thing), whereas Rosa had... well, nothing to remark upon. Best not to reveal that unless she absolutely had to.

C'mon... psyche out. Psyche out. Freak and think I'm setting for an ambush...
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Silence...

She expected SOME kind of reply... Maybe not necessarily a positive one, after all she HAD broken in and everything... But at the very least she expected SOMETHING. A witty comeback? A nervous agreement? A paranoid scream for help? ANYTHING...

Instead, after a few minutes had gone by, she was met with nothing but silence...

DAMNIT! What does this mean? Are they too afraid to talk back, assuming that is they stay quiet long enough i'll assume nobody was inside in the first place? Maybe they've already left, escaping through some hidden doorway I hadn't noticed...

What if... What if she's setting up an trap? Waiting in the corner of the room with a gun in her hand, or around the corner with some bladed object poised and ready for me... No, surely they'd of called be out anyway? Tried to attract my attention so they could get me with my guard down... Damn, so many possibilities. From all I know, she might not even HAVE a weapon on her. Not that i'm going to jump to any conclusions or anything....


She gulped, taking another look through the small gap between the partially open door and the wall. She couldn't SEE anyone through the narrow gap. Then again, she couldn't really see that much through the tiny gap anyway...

Damn... Seems i'm going to have to take a small risk then...

She took a deep breath and ever so slowly opened the door, stopping when the gap was wide enough for her look through it with both her eyes (Though not wide enough for her to poke her head through it. She wasn't an idiot after all...). Her eyes darted about, trying to see if she could spot anything that could shed some light as to where they where hiding. Despite having a much better view then earlier however, she still couldn't spot any clues as to where the person was hiding. .. She was about to move away from the door again when suddenly from the corner of her eye, she spotted an unopened duffle bag inside the opened bedroom opposite the office. Well, well... Thats interesting.

She moved back away from the door, finally allowing herself to breath freely. Alright then... If her bag's still in the bedroom, then i'm guessing that means she hasn't left without me noticing. You'd have to be an idiot to leave something as important as THAT behind... Also, from the looks of things it hasn't been opened... Could this mean she hasn't got her weapon on her?

No, don't be silly. They'd of closed the bag after retrieving surely... Anything it possible, really...

... Alright, I think i've stayed silent long enough now...


She took a deep breath, and then like before attempted at communicating with the stranger once more... She was anxious, of course. Seeing as she'd already attempted the same thing earlier to no reply... Even so, she still tried her best to hide her nervousness as best as she could... Although that being said, subtle signs of her anxiety still managed to get though her speech.

"Okay then, i'm assuming then that we still don't trust each other... Can't really say thats unwarranted though."

So far so good...

"Like i've already mentioned earlier, the last thing I want is for things to get out of hand... N, Neither of us want to die here, thats obvious enough..."

Shit! Hope they didn't notice that stutter...

"But if we keep up this stupid stand-off, something WILL go wrong eventually. Its not like we can stay like this forever..."

Keep going...

"If you need me to prove that i'm being truthful, just tell me what to. If you want me to throw the gun into the corner of the room or something, just say the word and i'll do it. But I NEED to be certain that I can trust you to do the same as well... Or prove that you don't have a weapon to start with, either way's fine..."

"I want to trust you, I really REALLY do... But I can't until i'm absolutely certain you're not going to open fire on me the second I poke my head out the door..."

"All I want is a little feedback, thats all... The longer we keep this up, the worse its going to get... Trust me, okay?"

She bit her lip nervously once again. She'd made her move, now all she had to wait for is for was for them to take their turn.
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MK Kilmarnock
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Craig had finally managed to lumber all the way to the strange building, but things still weren't right. Maybe it was because he couldn't find a door, or maybe it was the whole 'the world is still spinning deal'. Oh yeah, it was spinning, and spinning something fierce. The overweight boy teetered to the left and to the right before directing his heft over to the wall. He intended to lean on an outretched arm, but his quivering limb couldn't hold even standing weight, and his shoulder crashed into the wooden structure.

"Ugh..." Craig moaned, turning himself so his back was resting square against the buidling. The world still seemed to want to spin and blur like a bad piece of modern art (he never really was a fan of that). To combat the swirling, Giygas-esque trip, Craig simply closed his eyes.

Wait... if you do that, then you can't see the people that are here with you.

You know. The kids trying to kill you.


Craig's eyes shot open. Of course something was wrong, this wasn't home! This definitely wasn't St. Paul, and it probably wasn't even Minnesota! Those men... those men had... oh man, Stan Lee couldn't come up with ANYTHING as fucked up as this!

Craig might have voice those words aloud just to hear himself talk, but once he opened his mouth, he felt the tell-tale bump in his throat. Instinct forced him to turn his side from the building and use the wall as suppport as he puked all over the ground. The initial stream of vomit was pumped out with enough force to at least not get all over himself. As it began to slow down, Craig tilted his head out a bit more, gagging. The goopy, smelly substance had formed a small puddle at Craig's feet, luckily having missed the daypack he had dropped just a short ways away.

The show hadn't quite reached its dryheaving finale, however, and this was something Craig had to learn the hard way. Just when he was about to lift his head back up, he was forced back into leaning over, squeezing out a smaller stream of vomit. His throat then locked up a few times in a series of painful spasms until his belly decided that it was empty enough, and the boy was allowed to stand.

Ooooh man... seen better days, that's for sure. So... so this is seriously it, huh? That meeting... Craig tried to look around, and was happy to see that the world was more receptive to being gazed at. He reached out and down to try and snatch up his daypack, averting his eyes from the gross, lumpy and orange pile of sludge on the ground (what the hell did he eat?). It was still sort of heavy, and despite his massive size, Craig sucked at that... but at least most of the wooziness wore off. Leaning into the wall to sling the pack onto his shoulder, Craig was about to try and look for a way in when his ear, pressed clear to the wall, received something.

A voice? It was really difficult to make out, but... a female voice.
Craig stayed put, listening to it, and only it.
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Hallucinojelly
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It was cold. No, wait, it was warm. No, hang on - what the heck was wrong with this place? Trent felt uneasy as he bobbed along the river of darkness; his blood flowing throughout the black of his surroundings like every pore in his skin was gaping wide open. He felt like he'd died a thousand times and yet there was a gentle ease to which he accepted his new home. The shadows crept along his body, poking at him with their pointy sticks and speaking in a dialect he knew he'd never understand. That was okay though, this was fine. He liked being here for some reason, as though he felt safe inside this world, sheltered from the struggle beginning to take hold of the island outside of this cocoon.

Recalling what events had brought him here was an impossible task, as though his memories were hidden away in a secret place guarded by the very demons now examining the inside of his chest. They clicked their shadow tongues as they prodded his beating heart - it almost tickled as they pierced it with their tiny spears, watching hungrily as the blood began to bubble forth, seeping over the lungs and muscle below. He gave a weary laugh, his head lolling from side to side, but he did nothing to stop them from carrying on their work. This was their world, after all, and he was just a guest.

As they continued down the river for what seemed like days on end, they finally reached a blank television screen, suspended in the air by the darkness itself. Coming to a stop, the river dried up beneath his body and he fell to the ground with a silent thud; the demons now finished with their examination quickly left the scene, leaving Trent alone and bewildered as the screen flickered into life. Static crackling wildly above him, he could have sworn he saw sparks hit the blackened ground around him, but there were far more pressing matters at hand. Squinting his eyes, he thought he could make out the shape of someone's face amidst the frenzied pattern, but when the static began to dissolve he wished the face hadn't been so familiar.

Danya. That man from the video, the one in charge of every game he'd seen. Sure, everyone had watched at least one episode of SOTF, right? Everyone talked about it, didn't they? About Dodd, about Bryan, about Riz? He couldn't have been the only one, so why was he seeing that man's face now, like some sort of divine entity about to pass the harshest judgement ever conceived by his tiny little mind. "B044. Trent... Savage? Am I saying that right?" Mouth hanging open, he simply nodded in disbelief, his natural responses slowly returning to him as he watched on. "Oh, Trent... Trent, Trent, Trent. You've been a bit stupid, haven't you? A bit forgetful."

Wh-what?

"Don't make that face at me!" The screen roared down at the boy, engulfing the world in a hellish fire as he glared right into his conscious, deep into the heart of his memories. "You've been awake for a while now, and what did you do? What was the first thing you did?" Trent broke away from his gaze, desperately grasping at an answer. "The girl! You've forgotten THE GIRL." His eyes widened. How could he have forgotten? He'd been so busy - no, so selfish, that he'd forgotten all about the one person in the world that he actually liked. He'd forgotten about his best friend. He'd forgotten about-

"Violet! I-I know, I-" His voice cracked as he answered, the pressure building as the screen looked down impatiently. "I-I should- I shoulda tried to f-find her! I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry- please!" The face leered, it's portly chin rolling around as it began to break a terrible grin.
"Oh yeah, Violet. How could you forget about her, Trent? The only person who's ever understood you. The only girl you've ever-"
"Sh-shut up! You shut up now, y'hear?!" And it did. With a grim bellow of laughter, the screen faded out of existence, permitting Trent the time he needed to fully process what had been said. It was all too much, however, and as fast as he'd fallen asleep the real Trent began to wake, though not blessed with the same tranquillity that came with floating along the dark canal.

It had been a few minutes since Craig had headed up to the cabin on the other side of the small clearing, and now the boy began to stir out of his maddening dream. "Ugh... my fuckin' head." He mumbled as he spit the dirt from his mouth and wiped his drool away with his sleepy hand. The pounding in his head was a harsh reminder to never again try something so stupid, and he took a good few more minutes of rest before attempting to get to his feet. He had to wonder though, about his sleep. What had happened just then was something he could never try to remember, and half of him wondered if he'd even dreamed at all, being so close to killing himself as he had been.

Never doin' that kinda shit again, right? Never again?

Nodding woozily, he lurched forward with a groan, his head still spinning from the impact of his head against the rocks. It was lucky for him that the damage done hadn't been more severe, though if anyone tried to convince him the pain now was a miracle he'd surely launch a groggy punch their way. And so he moved, slowly, and not so surely, over to the ranger's station, forgetting all about the duffel bag he had left in the bushes behind him.
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Namira
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Rosa's ears pricked up as a sound reached them. Somebody was working the handle of a door, slowly though, making it obvious that the intruder wasn't looking to just burst into the room. On the one hand, at least the girl wasn't coming in all gung ho, guns blazing. On the other... well, Rosa would really have preferred if that door had remained comfortably shut.

There was a long silence after that little sound, Rosa strained to detect any further noises but she couldn't make out a thing. No footsteps, no metallic sounds that might have indicated a gun being prepared to fired. Nothing. It was quiet as a morgue.

Okay wow nice fucking imagery there. Real positive, Rosa.

At long last, the voice again, this time not quite as muffled. The door had definitely been opened. Rosa couldn't tell whether they were in the main room itself or had stuck in the office, but the girl was definitely more distinct now. Rosa knew the voice, she was sure she did, but... not enough to place. Dammit. Apparently they wanted to make best friends and go skipping off into the sunset surrounding by rainbows and a chorus of puppies.

Well not exactly, but that was the thrust of things, something which Rosa wasn't particularly inclined to believe. More likely, this chick wanted to make sure that Rosa herself wasn't going to start shooting the second she stepped through the door... so that she could start shooting at Rosa. Paranoid? Maybe it was, but if there was ever a time and a place to be neurotic, it was here.

All the same, Rosa mulled over what the other girl was saying, but pitched it in how relative it was to her. The intruder was obviously still inside of the office, so she couldn't have too good an idea where Rosa was right now... speaking risked revealing her position, but it depended on whether the other girl was looking... and how much she said. Much as the cynic in her wanted to avoid any danger, this clearly wasn't going to work.

Can't camp out behind here forever... best to take advantage of the offer whilst it's on the table.

"Okay, I'll bite.. Unload the gun. Toss it into the middle of the room. Then we'll talk."

Rosa kinda wished, at that moment, she knew how to throw her voice.
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Those first few seconds of uncertainness were... tense, to say the least. Hell, she could probably say that it was the most stressful situation she'd ever be in without so much as a hint of doubt. For once in her life, Vera felt like she was in real danger. That she was in a situation which could very well end with her dead, lying sprawled on the floor in a pool of her own blood as some unknown figure casually picked up her gun with a gleeful look in their eye.

She tried to shake off those thoughts... Now wasn't the time to start getting paranoid. Paranoia could turn to panic all too easily, and if she panicked... Well, hopefully that won't be the case. With any luck, whoever was hiding here would understand her predicament and work towards earning each other's trust. Who knows, maybe she might of even found a potential ally... Probably not, but you never know...

And sure enough, it didn't take long until Vera heard a certain female voice call out from around the corner.

YES! Thank god... Finally we're getting somewhere!

She didn't immediately recognize who it was at first... They sounded familiar, thats for certain. It wasn't anybody she knew personally though, otherwise she'd of just guessed it instantly. Not to mention the fact that someone she knew like Sarah or Madelyn wouldn't of just stayed silent like this girl had... Besides, she knew for a fact that none of her friends had a subtle Italian accent like that...

Damnit, who is she?!? I KNOW i've heard that voice somewhere before...

......

...Wait a minute... That accent... Who do I know who speaks like tha...... YES! Now I remember!


"Rosa? Is that you?"

She allowed herself a sigh of relief, lowering her guard somewhat as she took on board this new discovery. At the time, she suspected the hidden stranger to be one of the more shy and flowery students like Hilary Strand or Reika Isihda. So she was somewhat taken aback when she realised who it actually none other then Rosa Fiamette of all people.

My god, I must have seemed so... Patronising! How embarrassing...

"Thank christ... And here I was thinking some psychopath was readying an ambush or something..." she said, the tenseness in her voice slowly decreasing as she went on. She allowed herself then to speak more naturally, seeing as she now knew who she was dealing with. Admittedly, she didn't really know that much about Rosa herself apart from a couple of unfair rumours she was sure weren't true. Or at the very most were exaggerations of the actual truth. Either way, the fact of the matter was she had any little reason to believe Rosa would be the kind of person who'd buy into this and start playing... She just couldn't picture her as being the kind of person who'd do such a thing. Hell, she couldn't picture ANYONE at Bayview being the kind of person who'd gladly play along... Well, except maybe Monty Pondsworth. But he was in jail anyway as far as Vera was aware...

It was at that moment that she also realised that throughout the entirety of their encounter she'd never bothered to actually tell Rosa what her name was. She assumed that she'd of recognized her voice, but then again they'd never really spoken to each other before. She probably hadn't a clue who she was even now... Jesus, I could have made things a lot easier by just telling her that at the start!

May as well rectify that error now...

"Oh, I forgot to mention... Its Vera. Vera Osborne..."

Now that introductions are out the way, lets get on to business...

"Now then, I'm assuming that you're unarmed, seeing as you didn't offer to throw in a weapon yourself... I don't suppose you've got some way of proving that's the case?" she asked, knowing full well that there probably isn't a way for her to prove this claim... If they were going to try and make this work, chances are she'd end up having to take her word on it...

"...Without leaving yourself wide open, of course." she added as an afterthought nevertheless.
Edited by Fiori, Aug 16 2010, 08:48 AM.
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MK Kilmarnock
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The words coming from inside the building were too faint to actually discern, but they were there, that was for sure. As unpleasant as his session of solid, technicolor yawning had just been, it did at least serve one positive function (besides possibly repelling those who dared come near), and Craig was rapidly becoming aware of it. In fact, it was his alertness itself that he could credit to his puking, since hurling your guts out does wonders to wake somebody up. He gave a quick look to the orange-ish puddle before deciding that staring at it too long could make him gag (and it smelled raunchy to boot), so Craig leveled his head once more, leaning himself against the building.

The voices were a reminder of the life that was on the island. In a certain way, this really was as though his class was on a field trip. A very, very dark field trip, but he hadn't seen any violence yet. Craig had faith in his classmates; they made fun of people, sure, and they had heckled him a lot. They could do some pretty low things. However, even understanding all of this, he just couldn't see any one of them killing another, because that's just not something kids do. It's something supervillains do, it's stuff that even a few of the nuttier superheroes do, but generally not kids. He knew he couldn't do it... he just knew.

Seeing as he hadn't encounted a single concious student yet, Craig decided that he'd have to figure out a way to enter the 'house' that he was leaning against and converse with whoever was inside. He was sure they weren't playing, maybe they were chatting it up and discussing survival! Yeah, sounded pretty cool! But the door wasn't on this side, so he'd have to walk around and find it. With his alertness and ability to think coherently once more, however, Craig was stuck with the recurring memories of what had happened not so long ago...

He had to repress it for now. Craig may not have been the sharpest set of cleats on the field, but he was always able to either shrug little things off or, in the event of trauma that was far too deep to just ignore, he could soak it up and keep it deep inside. If he wanted to have any chance of keeping it together and not imagining a bunch of little yellow text boxes whenever he thought (if that happened, there was a definite problem), Craig would have to do what JJ Sturn taught him to do so well during football practice: Suck it up.

"Suck it up, Hoyle!"

"SUCK IT UP!"


Craig winced when he imagined his captain barking at him so... so vividly. He pulled his ear away from the cabin to go searching for the door when the crunches of feet on dirt alerted him to somebody coming towards the building from the same way Craig had just come from. The large boy turned to put his back against the exterior wall of the cabin, seeing... Trent!

Well, damn, he had nearly forgotten about him!

"Hey, bud... you have a nice nap?" Craig said, still slurring his speech a little. His mind was awake, but his mouth had yet to catch up.
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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
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Trent wrinkled his nose as he got close to the cabin; the acrid smell of vomit flew into his face with the wind, causing him to gag a little. It smelt sharp and tangy, clinging to the inside of his nose, and he had to pull his T-shirt up to his face to stop the smell from overwhelming his recovering senses. His head was still drumming with a rhythmic pain, and his eyes couldn't quite focus properly, but at least he could still move, albeit in the fashion of the zombies in those early Romero films. It didn't matter though, as he kept reminding himself; "It coulda been worse. You coulda died, y' idiot." Which was all too true. He couldn't afford to do those moronic things any more, he had a real objective now, a real goal to aim for. Nodding along with his thoughts, he took a moment to stop himself as a brief dizzy spell passed over him, taking a quick look around after it was gone to check if he was still alone.

"Hey, bud... you have a nice nap?"

The voice sounded familiar - and close. The area blurring around him as his head turned quickly in an attempt to find the source, his eyes soon stopped dead when a large, moving shape entered his sights. Vision settling as he focused on the shape, he realized why the voice had sounded so familiar, and a smile threatened to close his wide-open mouth. "C...Craig? Is that - is that you, man?" This couldn't be happening, could it? Had he actually received some kind of luck now? Though the pain still hammered away at his skull, Trent didn't care. He'd found one of the very few people he actually liked on the island, and he didn't even seem to be carrying a weapon. An unusually happy Trent rushed (well, hobbled) over to the boy, unaware of the stoned look of relief on his face.

"I... hah, I can't believe it. Of all the peeeople, I find you, man. Craig fuckin' Hoyle." He laughed, trying his best to stay standing as his head began to spin from all the excitement. Lugging his legs behind him, he managed to get up close to the outer wall of the cabin, resting on it as he walked over to the confused on-looker who seemed a bit disturbed by Trent's condition. His hair was full of dirt and a small patch of sticky, congealing blood had emerged around the side of his head, hidden only slightly by his greasy locks. Added to this, he simply had the look of a major stoner about him, and the fact that his eyes wouldn't straighten did nothing to help matters at all. No, right now he was a mess, and as he finally got into Craig's proximity there was only one thing he could do.

"My... oh man, you're lookin' kinda..." Without another word he slumped forward, hanging his arms around the footballer's stomach as the world around him began to blacken once again. "Gotta... ohhhh, shiiiit..." His words slurred together into an indecipherable mess and his eyelids locked themselves down, leaving a bewildered Craig holding the unconscious boy carefully in his arms.

His goal was going to be harder to reach than he thought.
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Namira
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There were a few moments of silence. In her hiding place, Rosa sweated, a knot of anxiety clenching her stomach in a death grip. She felt certain that she'd made a mistake and that any moment now a volley of bullets was going to rip through the sofa and tear into her body- the girl spoke again.

You figured it out, huh? Is my voice really that distinctive?

She didn't respond. She wasn't going to be drawn into talking further until she was sure that the intruder wasn't trying to figure out her position. Rosa hadn't become any less guarded after she'd been identified, because that would've been nothing short of idotic. Did it matter if the other girl knew her? Not particularly. They were in the same year; to some extent or another they all knew each other. Rosa didn't believe for a second that it would stop everyone from killing.

For Rosa, that was a non-argument. There were serious assholes in this world, she'd run across some of them and could put names to some of those faces (hello JJ Sturn!). Out of everyone in the year that had come out on this trip, the odds that none of them would be willing to put their lives in front of everyone elses were ludicrous. Most people were selfish and although for a majority of the class, that wouldn't transmit to murder... it would for enough of them.

Which was why, when Rosa's identification led to a sound of relief from the intruder, the Fiametta was sceptical. Either the other girl was hopelessly naive, or she was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. What the hell did she know about Rosa to be so confident about her motives? Unless she was some sort of mind reader, the answer was 'not a goddamn thing'.

Osborne, huh? What do I know about you? ...Kinda hot. A little vain, I guess. Wow. That gives me fuck all.

At the next question, Rosa again refused to make a sound. Vera could assume away, there was no way in hell she was going to get Rosa to confirm she was unarmed. The stalemate was going nowhere but if the other girl had bad intentions, keeping things secret was the only advantage Rosa was going to get.

"Unload the gun, then slide it a little way away from that door. Then we'll talk," Rosa's voice was perfectly even and she was amazed at the absence of any tremor. If Vera wasn't going to play ball with that, Rosa would just have to take her chances with the windows behind her hiding place. It was the best offer she was prepared to give.
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