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The Only Way Is Up; TOPIC CLOSED
Topic Started: Aug 21 2010, 11:56 AM (7,119 Views)
Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Leila Langford continued from Break Up And Break Down))

It had been hours since she'd left the fun fair behind; one look at her feet could tell anybody that. Without shoes of any sort, the girl had been forced to travel barefoot across the island, causing her more than a little distress as she had to keep stopping to pull various splinters and grit from out of her skin. She'd tried putting her stilettos back on to make the walk easier, but that made things even worse. The amounts of times she'd tripped on the root of a tree or a stray rock was countless, so she'd given up on the idea completely, abandoning her shoes somewhere far behind her. But navigation was not her forte, and soon she found herself stumbling around the base of the giant mountain in the center of the island without a clue to how she got there. It was fortunate really, seeing as it was the biggest landmark she could've possibly found, but with that fortune came some unseen consequences.

Essentially, absolutely anyone could come by and find her out here all on her own, and that was a major problem. She had no shoes, causing her to wince every time she took a single step, and she still couldn't bring herself to look inside her daypack, even though she knew that she'd have to eventually if she wanted to take a look at the map hiding within. Staring up at the rock face in front of her, she wondered how on earth she was ever going to get up there without a decent pair of climbing boots. Her eyes turned to the left, then to the right, scoping out the very size of the mountain itself before admitting defeat and pulling her bag off her shoulders.

Alright, fine, it's time I took a damn look.

Bangles clanging together as her hand trembled towards the bag, she began to breathe heavily, unwilling to open it too quickly in fear that her worst fear lay in wait. What would she do if she found a gun inside? Would she ever bring herself to use it, like Gracie? She liked to think that she wouldn't lower herself to that loser's level, but if the opportunity came to take someone hostage, to make sure she wasn't the one with a bullet in her chest... Closing her eyes, she felt her fingers wrap themselves around the zipper and her brain began to shout. What if it was a trap?! What if it exploded the minute she opened it?! What if this was how the game was meant to be played, by blowing up anyone stupid enough to believe that god-awful video?! What if-

FUCK IT.

The wind blew in harshly from the forest behind her, causing her hair to whip her face wildly as he ripped open the bag with a cry and then...

Nothing happened.

At all.

There was no bang or boom, no scream or shout, just an empty silence as the gale hushed itself around her.

Letting out a delirious laugh, she teared up at what she found inside. A rope. A fucking rope. That's what they'd given her, a rope - oh wait, not just a rope - a rope with weights on it. Well, wasn't that fucking brilliant. After all that anticipation, all that worry, all that stress, this is what she found. She almost felt like dying, her heart racing ahead of the rest of her body only to win a fucking rope.

Grabbing it with both hands, she ran the length of it between her palms before looking up at the mountain again. It didn't look like it was long enough to use as a climbing rope, and the weights were spherical, rendering them useless as grappling tools. Her brow furrowing at the thought of her weapon being more useless than she previously thought, she grunted in annoyance and shoved it back into her back. Oh! The map! Flinging the bolos back out again, she dove straight into the daypack; bread and bottles flying out into the dirt as the girl ravaged her equipment. A-ha! There it was! Shoved down to the bottom of the bag, she quickly tore it out and began unfolding it on the ground in front of her.

"Mountain... mountain... right, here we go." Muttering under breath, she scanned the map with fevered eyes. "If I go around... yeah... then east... huh."
Hello again.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
((B105 Start))

It had started as a relatively sleepy afternoon. Jeremy Franco had woken up. He had shuffled around a little and unzipped his duffel bag. He had blinked. He had rummaged through the thing lazily, poking around for the familiar shapes and textures of food. He had yawned. He had started to think, in a cursory manner, about the gravity of the situation. He had felt something long and wooden in his bag, like a pole. He had started to take the thing out to see what it was. He had had a few more idle thoughts on his likely-impending death, and whether he'd be willing to take a life to defend his own. He had thrown those thoughts as far to the side of his mind as he could manage, because holy shit sword-cane.

Swooooooooooooooord-caaaaaaaaaaaaane!

What followed was around seven minutes of swordfighting with imaginary opponents with his trusty fucking sword-cane, holy shit. This was actually preceded by around thirty seconds of confused attempts to operate the twist on the thing and get the sword fully out of its unassuming cane exterior, but Jeremy chose to expunge that part from his mental retelling of the situation. He slashed, he stabbed, he whirled around. He blocked attacks from imaginary opponents (probably fucking ninjas or some shit like that). He held the cane part in his left hand and used it to sweep the ninjas' legs out from under them. He drew the sword over and over again, with increasing ease and style (holy shit, he was getting good at this already).

He glanced around furtively and saw nobody, not quite putting two and two together about what these tall, camera-like structures were. He put on a little grin, confident that no one had seen his display. Though it would have been awesome if they had. He should fucking charge people for it.

As good as his lot in life was, however, Jeremy did feel a single regret stinging at him. He was wearing a snazzy suit, he had a sword-cane (holy shit!), and he even had his totally sick shades. But he'd forgotten to pack a fedora. It was probably the biggest mistake of his life to date, and he wasn't about to let himself off easy for it. He started to make a mental list of priorities.

1) Obtain a fedora

That was it, for now.

Jeremy started to hike in a random direction- presumably in search of a fedora- and soon enough came upon a fellow student. Long hair, nice ass, pink skirt. A hot chick! Yessssssss. My first ally is going to be a hot chick! Jeremy did his best to strike a gentlemanly pose. Standing up straight, one hand resting on the cane he was gently leaning on, one hand held up by his face so he could tip his imaginary fedora to Hot Chick.

1) Obtain a fedora
2) Ally with hot chicks


Jeremy greeted his new ally as a proper gentleman would. "Heeeeeeeeey!"
Edited by Jonny, Aug 21 2010, 06:35 PM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Rattlesnake
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Now you may be wondering, who was wearing the bolo tie? Me or the shark? Answer: YES!
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Son of a monkey's left nipple."

B088: Start

Cody Jenkins tried holding his map upside-down. It didn't help. He hadn't expected it to, of course, but it was just one of those things people did, like touching wet paint or pushing harder on the buttons of a dead remote control when it's perfectly clear that neither will do any good. He knew that these urges were completely asinine, but also that holding out would simply increase the burning desire to be stupid, so he simply gave in to these impulses as a matter of course.

The problem with the map was that it simply didn't show what he needed to know. It was all fine and dandy if you wanted to move from one corner of the island to another without swimming, or if someone who had lost their map and who desperately needed to avoid getting wet was interrogating you about its contents at gunpoint, but seeing as roving about the island like a man looking for his car keys was stupid, and that there seemed to be a shortage of directionally-challenged wicked witches on the island, it was perfectly useless to him except to hold at funny angles waiting for the unintelligible mess to resolve suddenly into "SOUTH, YOU RETARD!"

In short, he was lost.

Under normal circumstances, "lost" didn't worry Cody much, because normal circumstances "lost" involved either paved roads or smoke monsters. In the woods, however, "lost" had a very nasty ring to it, and that went double when better than 250 other beweaponed seniors were lost, and the authorities weren't going to do anything about it, because the authorities were precisely the ones who had put them there in the first place as part of a heavily-publicized recurring terrorist attack. And, he thought, it went quadruple when the terrain was all hilly and tree-y and one was carrying a pack on one shoulder and an axe on the other, although there were plenty of cameras around that he could vent his rage at. Everyone did it, of course, and it really just boosted the ratings, but if that was what it took to get the word out to everyone, he could deal with it, and maybe even tell people he was doing it ironically, because doing lame stuff ironically was apparently awesome.

He could hear people up ahead, specifically someone trying to put the moves on the ladies. He hurried forward, because one of them might know what in the world they were doing, and also there was probably at least a guy and a girl, who could easily be friendly and hot, respectively. Stepping brashly out of the trees, he leaned on his axe, looked at them, looked at his map, turned it sideways, looked at them again, and then said, in earnest curiosity, "Hey guys. You know where we are? 'Cause I can't make heads or tails of this thing."
VeeFive:
G065 KK Konipaski - "You've earned your rest, you tell yourself, and then you wake up and all the wolves have taken off their sheep masks."
Rolling the dice in the Quad with the Basket-Hilted Rapier, Swordbreaker, Butterfly Knife.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

B060 Matthew Young -
"What brings you to the beach on this crappy day?"
Taking a sand nap in the Eastern Inlet with the iPod from Heck
1 2 3 4

G075 Tessa Blackridge - "Oh. ...I left quite a mess, didn't I?"
Staring down the cold hand of Death in the Bike Trails with the Pepper Spray
1 2

V4


NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
"Heeeeeeeeey!"

That was the first indication Leila got that she wasn't alone out here. The boy's shoes crunched on the dirt beneath his feet, but she'd been so preoccupied with the map her ears hadn't picked up the sounds, leaving her unprepared for whatever tricks he might have up his sleeve. Sharply spinning and standing on the spot, she looked over the intruder, cursing at the familiarity of his face.

"Jeremy fucking Franco. Of all the luck. I don't need any more of your "discount" moisturiser thanks, so buh-bye then."

Yeah, she wasn't a fan.

After speaking so flatly, she turned back to her - where'd the map go. No, really, where was it? She'd only looked away for a second, and suddenly it was gone. Frustration overwhelming her, she began to pace frantically around the trees, searching for any sign of where it could've gone, when finally she saw it. Floating away on the wind.

"FFFF-"

Her eyes darted back to the rat-faced boy. "You!" She shrieked, stomping right towards him. "You fucking IDIOT. You lost my map, you little shit! UGH! I can't believe this!" A little too theatrical, maybe, but her performance was understandable, given the circumstances. Dirty, stinging soles lined the bottoms of her feet, her clothes were all the wrong sizes and materials for this kind of weather, she had a rope for a weapon, and now she'd lost her map. Well, if that wasn't the cherry on top of her shitty cake of a day.

Half of her wanted to rip the boy in half, while the other wanted to-

Strangle him.

The daypack sat innocently behind her; the bolos lying tangled a tiny distance away. They were all given the same equipment, right? That's what the guy on the video has said. Which meant lying snugly inside Jeremy's bag would be his own map, identical to the one she'd just lost. Her tongue whipped away the dryness on her lips while her fingers twitched down by her sides. She was bigger than him, she could take him easily. He was just a skinny little rat-boy, after all. But then her mind cast back to the video once again, and she reminded herself that he too could have a weapon; a much better one than hers.

Before she made her decision, another boy entered the clearing, holding - what luck! - another map. Apparently he couldn't read it either, but that was fine. As long as he needed someone else to carry it for him, she'd be more than happy to oblige. As for rat-boy though - she kept a lock on him from out of the corner of her eye - he'd have to go. She couldn't have him sniffing around for spare cheese while she kept tabs on this guy's stuff. If only there was some way of getting rid of him... and maybe stealing his shoes at the same time.
Hello again.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
"You! You fucking IDIOT. You lost my map, you little shit! UGH! I can't believe this!"

The chick, whose name Jeremy now remembered was Leila, seemed to have some unkind words for him. In another set of circumstances, perhaps Jeremy would have gotten angry. He would have perhaps lost his calm, businesslike cool. He would have let the hurtful words get to him, and spoken in a way that would have only exacerbated the situation. His head would have filled up with prideful and vindictive thoughts. But right now, there was only really one thought worth thinking:

Holy shit, she's hooooooot when she's pissed off.

Jeremy took stock of the situation. She had a nice face and a bangin' body. She had a temper and was thus potentially good (and hoooooot) in a fight. And what's more, he had something she needed. A map! Such a simple bargaining tool, and all he had to do to secure her alliance was offer it. This was perfect. Jeremy held all the cards. He pulled all the strings. All the pieces on the chessboard were his pieces. All that was left was to pull her into his spiderweb.

There was also the matter of the other guy who'd just moseyed up and asking for directions. Fuck off, other guy, I'm in the middle of a sales pitch right now. If the guy was really desperate, Jeremy could help him out after he'd secured an alliance with Leila. But for now, he was a distraction from the task at hand, and best ignored.

Jeremy held his hands out non-threateningly. "Leila!" It took every inch of his willpower not to break into a hilarious rendition of a particular Eric Clapton song, or to fall to his knees and hope she got the reference. "Look, hey, hey, I'm sorry! Okay? That was my bad, look, lemme make it up to you. Alright? Look, here, how's this, you're a loyal customer of J. Franco and Associates, so how about- check this out- I hook you up with a map. I got one too, so don't sweat it, you're good." Jeremy did his best to keep his gaze focused on her eyes and not her tits (nice tits, Leila!), since that was pretty much the first thing you learned about making a sales pitch. "Plus, I'll throw in an offer of protection, yeah? We go around together, kicking ass, following my map, I make sure all the pervs stay away from you? Sound good? Yeah?"

Right into his goddamn spiderweb. With any luck, they'd become the island's most feared couple within a day or two, taking breaks from their reign of terror only so they could make out. And then Jeremy would turn to one of the cameras, grin, and wink. And tip his fedora.
Edited by Jonny, Aug 22 2010, 07:19 PM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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Rattlesnake
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Now you may be wondering, who was wearing the bolo tie? Me or the shark? Answer: YES!
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Cody cocked his head and looked on with mild consternation. He hoped he wasn't walking in on anything, but then realized that it didn't really matter if he had, seeing as he had a fire axe and that judging by Leila's reaction, they weren't going to be gangbanging him any time soon. Not that he seriously considered using the axe, of course, but it was a good thing to have as a deterrent. He took another couple of steps forward.

"So, I don't wanna, like, ruin the moment or anything, actually I think you guys might have already ruined any sort of 'moment' that was going on, but really, do you at least know where we are? 'Cause I figure we're in the mountains, only that doesn't help because they're kind of big. Big as mountains, I'd say, actually."

He hoped that that last bit might loosen them up. People liked humor, especially when they were in such a stupid situation as this. The problem was, of course, that he wasn't sure that it was actually funny, although maybe if it was unfunny enough, it might wrap around to funny again and at least give them a chuckle. His prognostication seemed to be at least partially correct in that between them, they seemed to be attractive, nice, and mentally stable - but not individually, of course, and three redeeming qualities is a tough split between two people.

He scraped some dirt with the spike of his axe while he waited.
VeeFive:
G065 KK Konipaski - "You've earned your rest, you tell yourself, and then you wake up and all the wolves have taken off their sheep masks."
Rolling the dice in the Quad with the Basket-Hilted Rapier, Swordbreaker, Butterfly Knife.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

B060 Matthew Young -
"What brings you to the beach on this crappy day?"
Taking a sand nap in the Eastern Inlet with the iPod from Heck
1 2 3 4

G075 Tessa Blackridge - "Oh. ...I left quite a mess, didn't I?"
Staring down the cold hand of Death in the Bike Trails with the Pepper Spray
1 2

V4


NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

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Little Boy
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STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Jimmy Brennan continued from Woods of Paranoia ))

Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Fuck Me.

Fuck. Me.

Fuck. Me.


Jimmy Brennan trudged up the rocky slope, his face red, his body drenched in sweat. His red hair stuck to his face (When it was busy not getting fucked about every which way by the wind). It was hot. Too fucking hot. The five stages of grief are, in order; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and finally Acceptance.

The first two stages of Jimmy Brennan on SotF? Utter Hysterics and Rage respectively.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. FUCK you. FUCK you. Fuck YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU!"

Jimmy chanted to no one in particular as he ascended the rocky slope, his heavy bag weighing him down. He kicked up dirt and turned around staring down at the forest below.

The forest which more likely than not, held his future killer.

"FUCK YOU!!!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Fuck you, fucking Danya! What the fuck, did you get dicked in the ass one too many times as a kid!? You stupid fucking fucktard, I DON'T DESERVE TO DIE! I'M JIMMY BRENNAN! Why the fuck did you pick me!? I'm BETTER THAN YOU! I don't deserve to die!"

He sank (or rather plopped down) onto his butt, throwing his pack beside him. He breathed deeply through his nose as he opened it.

It has to be a mistake. That soda, Mom must have packed it for me. I've got an Uzi in here, I just know it. I'll blow that fuckers face off with it, fatass cunt Danya...

Jimmy grew frantic, tossing the contents of the bag out onto the rocky slope. He could feel hot tears stain his face once more, but he blinked them back.

No! No, I'm better than this! I'm not crying! I'm not going to cry ever again, I'm better than that! I'm better than Danya, and I'm not going to let him get to me! I'm not going to let any of this get to me!

Jimmy pulled out the can of Moxie and looked at it mournfully.

Moxie.. what the heck is Moxie? I know why he gave me this. Because, because I'm such a huge badass, I don't need to start with an Uzi to kill people. I can start with a can of soda an- an I'll make it. He put this in here, because he wants me to show him that I'm a man...

"Mommy...." He managed to croak out. Jimmy blinked back more tears. Angrily, he shoved the can back in the bag and threw the rest of the contents of the sack back in.

Yeah fuckin' right! He doesn't think I'm a man, but I'll show him.. I've gotta show him! Because there isn't anything else left to do now, 'cept show them all who I am, what I'm made of. Show the haters that Jimmy Brennan is the man, and they really shoulda' invited him to that party...

"Where the shit am I? Some mountain of- of... shit, when the hell could terrorists afford to buy their own mountain!?" Jimmy yelled to no one in particular. He adjusted the pack on his back and looked back up. He was beginning to think he should have pulled out his map before ditching Keith and that pansy Carl-

Jimmy blinked. A map floated in the breeze down towards him.

"The....fuck..."

He reached out and swatted the map out of the air.

Map. People. Killers.

Jimmy looked up the hill and saw just what he had feared, people. Three of them in fact. His eyes bulged and he froze.

Have.. have they seen me? I'm standing in the road, of course they've seen me... Oh god.. are they... are they going to shoot?

Jimmy squinted up at them.

No... are they good guys? They don't look like Jocks, or those Preps who are always chirping me... Maybe they are... maybe...

He looked down at his pack, and an idea struck him. He began to walk towards the group.

Moxie. Weapon. What if I could get a weapon? What if I could get a weapon...?

"Hey! 'Sup!" He called out. He could feel his balls swelling to ten times their size. He smirked in delight.

Yeah, that's right. Death game, and I'm casually callin' out to my classmates. Hehe, they probably had a 20 minute standoff, barely able to talk. No one could possibly act this cool, 'cept me. I can't be bothered to freak out, I got this all under control, that's why.

Yeah, that's why.


"It's Jimmy Brennan!" He called out.

Hope they don't know me... I need them to know who I'm 'supposed' to be...

Would be easier to steal that way...
Edited by Little Boy, Aug 26 2010, 12:18 AM.
V5
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
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"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
"Leila!"

"What?!"

"Look, hey, hey, I'm sorry! Okay? That was my bad, look, lemme make it up to you. Alright? Look, here, how's this, you're a loyal customer of J. Franco and Associates, so how about- check this out- I hook you up with a map. I got one too, so don't sweat it, you're good."

What the fuck was he talking about? He could "hook her up"? What was he, a map dealer? She wouldn't put it past him, to be honest. Flicking her hair back with her hands, she held up her index finger at Cody (one sec) as she turned to face the mafia wannabe with an astonished look. Was he serious? Of all the places to try and do business, he was choosing this one? An island in the middle of nowhere inhabited only by her former classmates who now had all kinds of guns and drugs and knives in their possession? Yeah, great job Jeremy, you really know when to pick your moments, don't you? Near shouting again, she was stopped by another torrent of babble relentlessly gushing from the salesman's creepy mouth.

That was a good word for him: creepy.

"Plus, I'll throw in an offer of protection, yeah? We go around together, kicking ass, following my map, I make sure all the pervs stay away from you? Sound good? Yeah?"

A smirk.

"Okay, and what happens when there's no pervs left? I suppose that's when King Perv himself will want something in return for all that "protection" he's gonna give me, right? I'm guessing he'll want to see a slip of pink rather than green though, right? I mean, you'd know, being his right-hand man and all - RIGHT?." Not holding back on the sarcastic air quotes, she rolled her eyes at the boy's proposition before returning to her bag and quickly began to stuff everything back into it. She needed to get out of here before Jeremy got any more ideas about the two of them partnering up, that was for sure. Hell if people got the wrong idea and thought they'd started dating or something. Ugh, the thought alone made Leila's skin crawl.

Screw the map for now, it can wait. I am not sticking around to get slobbered on by Jeremy fucking Franco.

"So, I don't wanna, like, ruin the moment or anything, actually I think you guys might have already ruined any sort of 'moment' that was going on, but really, do you at least know where we are? 'Cause I figure we're in the mountains, only that doesn't help because they're kind of big. Big as mountains, I'd say, actually."

"What?" What was he talking about? Big as - ugh, this was getting ridiculous. Apparently, all the guys on the island were woman-beaters, rats or retards. Wow, she could see the adverts now: "Old? Single? Looking for love with a greasy 18 year-old boy from Minnesota? Then why not visit www.creepyteensresort.com now to find the worm of your dreams today! (And yes, that IS a euphemism)." Okay, seriously, what was in that sleeping gas? Shaking her head, she mumbled quiet curses as she closed up the daypack and flung it over her shoulders. Oh, God, that was heavy. Taking a long look at the two boys, she briefly considered asking Cody - the lesser of two evils - to come with her, if only to carry her things.

"You're absolutely right, Cody, this is the mountains, well done. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna leave now because you two are a pair of fucking morons." Smiling as sweetly as she could just to piss them off, she started down the slope again before yet another boy entered the scene and blocked her path.

"Hey! 'Sup!"

...Well, shit.

"It's Jimmy Brennan!"

Leila groaned obnoxiously at the sight of him sweating his way up the hill. Really? He wanted to hang out with them? She just couldn't believe it. It was the fun fair all over again, except this time she unintentionally made herself the main attraction. It wasn't her fault she looked so damn good covered in dirt and scratches, so why was she being punished for it? With a great sigh, she wandered back into the clearing, dropping her stuff right down where she'd picked it up from just a few seconds ago.

"Rats and retards, Leila... rats and retards." She muttered under her breath as she slumped down onto the uncomfortable bag.
Hello again.
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Jonny
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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
[ *  *  * ]
"Okay, and what happens when there's no pervs left?"

Well then they'd be a really hot and kickass couple who had just kicked lots of ass and been hot. Jeremy thought that part was really obvious, and he tried to think of a genteel way to phrase it but oh God she was still talking, she was still saying words from her mouth.

"I suppose that's when King Perv himself will want something in return for all that "protection" he's gonna give me, right?"

But why would it matter what King Perv wanted if the guy was dea- oh God it was him, he was King Perv all along.

"I'm guessing he'll want to see a slip of pink rather than green though, right? I mean, you'd know, being his right-hand man and all - RIGHT?."

Okay there were a lot of metaphors to navigate in that one so- wait so he wasn't King Perv after all, that was somebody different- but all the other pervs were dead in this scenario so it didn't make fucking sense. Jeremy paused, collected himself, and tried to parse out some sort of meaning- I think the implication is that I'll kill a bunch of perverts and then start jacking off- and quickly realized that this was getting awkward. And oh Christ she was already turning her attention to the other blowjob that had shown up- and he was saying weird shit to her about big mountains and he was probably talking about her tits - and Oh Jesus fuck what if he has a map too??? So in order to preserve the integrity of his spiderweb, he, uh, needed to say something, say something, just quick, just say something, just say anything, say-

"It's Jimmy Brennan!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP JIMMY BRENNAN I'M SHOUTING OVER YOU." Yes this was a good thing to say and it established him as above Jimmy Brennan in the pecking order. Jeremy imagined what kind of girl would accept a map from Jimmy Brennan, and quickly came to a conclusion: ugly sluts. Leila was a lot higher class than that. "LEILA YOU'RE A LOT HIGHER CLASS THAN THAT so ummm, no, yeah I would never do anything like that or demand anything like that because it would be totally creepy and pervy. And I don't roll like that, honest, promise, so like if King Perv shows up I'll kick his ass for you and I won't even need anything in return so don't worry!"

Okay yes this was awesome, he was totally turning this deal around despite some initial setbacks. He just needed something to clinch this shit, some kind of final offer to seal the deal on this slam dunk like-

"AND I'LL THROW IN THREE SLICES OF MY BREAD."
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Jason Harris continued from Flowerhead))

The group of boys had been hiking for quite some time now. Originally the plan had been to head to town, hole up and see what they could do from there, once a base of operations was established. However after some consultation between the boys the fact that the town could, and most likely would be a cluster fuck made that idea a little less appealing. From the quick inventory the group had made Jason was unsure whether every student had been assigned a gun or not. The four of them certainly had and if this was the case he strongly suspected that the town would be a prime example of a paint ball match gone terribly wrong although in this case the mental image included less paint and more bullets whizzing through the streets. So instead they had opted to head towards the mountain, hopefully get to the radio tower and secure that location instead.

The reasoning behind this was twofold. Firstly they strongly doubted many of the students would bother with the long hike associated with reaching the structure and secondly it was remote enough and probably well built enough to work as a good primary rally point. Plus the mountain was a excellent landmark. The trip itself had been relatively uneventful, from time to time they had spotted figures possibly moving in the distance and had made a wide berth around the smoking ruins of the sawmill, despite protests from some of the group members to investigate. Although from time to time conversation perked up most of the trip was relatively sullen and sombre with little said over long periods of time. They had briefly toyed with the idea of moving all the gear in to one pack and storing any excess in a hidden cache if needed elsewhere but Jason had deferred to Nathan in this instance and instead opted to scout ahead of the group as they reached the mountainous area ahead.

He never strayed too far from the group but had handed his bag over to the trio following in order to make himself a little lighter on his feet. It wasn't too long before the loud, demanding voice of Jeremy Franco reached his ears. Motioning for the group to hold up Jason scrambled up the rocky surface to try and gain a good view of the potential enemies, or allies ahead. Peeking over the rock formation Jason watched as Jeremy finished his sales pitch.

Turning back to the group who waited a little below he signalled. First pointing to his eyes and then holding up four fingers, mouthing the words "I see four people" He thought for a second on how to convey the lack of guns and that two were male and two were female before frowning.

Probably should of thought that out before hand, hell we had enough time.

He glanced back at the group on the small plateau before motioning for them to move up.

If we get around them we probably can control the situation, hopefully Nathan will make a call. Once again probably should of thought this through

Having second thoughts Jason started to move again, deciding the best cause of action would be to regroup and then discuss what to do. It just so happened that his foot slipped ever so slightly, causing a few rocks and pebbles to careen down the side of the outcrop of where he was standing. The Australian froze mid climb, his left hand on his gun while the other pulled out to steady his balance. He definitely didn't want to cause any kind of rock slide and he hoped that none of the people he watched had heard him.

He watched with baited breath as one of the pebbles bounced and rolled its way across the ground before finally resting at Cody's foot.

Well fuck.
Sickness: Partially suicidal... very slightly because of my report, but mostly because Jason is dead. All of my personal issues stem from the fact that Jason Harris did not win SotF v4

William 'Woozie' Wu - "Hey Pheebs, you're amazing babe."

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