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So What Do We Do Now?
Topic Started: Sep 25 2010, 10:00 PM (3,070 Views)
Shiola
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[ *  *  *  * ]
Please not Rasputin.

Please not Rasputin.

Not Rasputin.

On a small dirt path a short distance from where Chase and Ben had met, a large figure stumbled through the forest. Exhausted, he dragged his feet and a bloodied chainsaw behind him.

((Alex Rasputin continued from Break Up And Break Down))


Alex had sworn he had been in this exact place before - walking down a road, unsure of where to go or what to do, still fearing for his life. Bloodied, and exhausted from the run through the island. This time, the road narrowed into a forest, and he could only keep walking down it because... what else was there to do? As long as he avoided people, he would be fine.

Look how well that turned out when you weren't marked for death.

Just as he had reached the forest, loudspeakers from - who knows where - crackled to life and the uncomfortably familiar voice of the terrorist leader announced the day's deaths. Alex could only imagine the man's plump face beaming at the carnage he had, once again, unleashed. It was only a bit reassuring that Alex wasn't the first person to lose his shit and... do what he did... in the program. This was the fourth "game."

...Eric Lorenz.... Robert Lerger...

Their names... hell, even their faces seemed to just stick in his mind. Like some kind of scar on his soul. He knew exactly what he could say to himself that would be comforting. Alex was a victim just like everyone else. He didn't mean to do what he did.

But he knew, it didn't quite work that way. Anyone on the island with half a mind to survive and a gun would shoot him, maybe even hunt him down if they saw him walking around the island. They'd throw him in with all of the psychos and loner kids that probably spent most of their free time wishing they got the chance to do some of the crazy shit they'd been doing on the island. They were just rabid dogs, let off the leash. Alex wasn't like them, but nobody else would be able to see that.

Even so, could he really say he DIDN'T mean to do any of the stuff he did? Eric Lorenz was hunted down and knocked off the back-side of a cliff; Robert Lerger was gutted with a fucking chainsaw. What was his defense? How do you say you don't deserve to die after THAT? Who in their right mind would believe that?

Especially the way he looked right now. The gash on his face opened up again, and bits of Robert Lerger still clung to his clothing. Mostly blood, but a few chunks of bone and sinew were clinging to his shirt. Both his shirt and pants were completely drenched in blood, and even his duffel bag had a few flecks on it, though they weren't too noticeable. There was still the chainsaw, which was more or less soaked a sickening sanguine. The chainsaw USED to be yellow, but it was now probably permanently stained. There was no way anyone was going to even remotely listen to a single plea he might had looking like this. He looked like - well, he looked like he'd just killed someone with a chainsaw.

Perhaps it was the particularly Russian brand of pragmatism he'd grown up with, or maybe even just a desire to be able to go back home, but as much as he went over the murders in his head, there was no way he could bring them back, or undo the damage he had done. They were the two single greatest mistakes in his life short of going on this fucking trip, and he would regret them until the day he died. Which for all he knew, could be today. So... all he could do was move on. Shed the past he'd created for himself on the island.

Bringing himself to a larger tree, he leaned against it and dropped the chainsaw and his duffel bag. First, he had to get rid of these clothes. He wasn't sure he could clean all of the blood off, but he could try. There was a pair of track pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie in his bag, he'd left them there when he had gotten rid of most of his things near the fairground. How far off it seemed, that it was only a day ago. Alex hadn't slept the entire time he'd gotten here, and dark circles were starting to show around his eyes. As if he didn't look scary enough.

He started to feel nauseous when he had to peel the shirt off his chest, the bloody fabric brushing past his face. It was sopping with Lerger's blood, and it hit the ground with a discomforting *flop.* The pants followed, and they weren't as bad. The jeans had mostly dried while he was running, but they were still noticeably crimson. The boxers went too, as they too, were bloody. The blood had seeped through his clothing and somewhat "stained" his chest and legs, and it was sticky to the touch. Sticky. His chest was stic-

Without warning, Alex immediately threw up. Mostly water, and the crackers he'd eaten on the island a short while earlier. Something about the blood on his skin... felt disgusting. After dry heaving for almost a minute, Alex wiped his mouth with the bloodless end of his jeans, and got off of the ground.

Not hesitating for a moment (judging from the distance to the coast and some of the noises he'd heard, he probably didn't have many spare moments) he grabbed one of the water bottles from his daypack and opened it up over his head. The lukewarm water turned red as it washed some of the blood out of his hair and off of his chest. By the time he'd gone through the bottle, the blood still wasn't completely gone, but he was as far as he could define, clean. As fast as he could, he put the black track pants on, a green Minnesota Wild T-Shirt, and the nondescript grey hoodie. Alex didn't bother to tie his laces, and just slid his shoes back on. They were still slightly bloody, but they were black runners to begin with and he doubted anyone would notice. Hopefully he didn't look as obviously like who people thought he was, but if anyone recognized him (which they would) he'd be shot, or they'd run away.

Then there was the chainsaw. It still sat on the ground, still bloody. It was his only weapon, and it could still probably help him in a pinch, or at least deter someone from hurting him with anything short of a gun. With the few drops of water still in the bottle, he cleaned off the handle and the operational parts of the saw - the pull cord, the choke, the blade and the gas cap. In case he found any gas, and if he really ran out.

Not wanting to stay around a puddle of bloody clothes and vomit much longer, Alex picked up the now-mostly clean chainsaw and his duffel bag and slung them over his shoulder. He was able to tie the chainsaw to the bag with one of it's straps so he didn't have to carry it, and it was only a bit heavier.

---

A few minutes and a few hundred yards passed, and Alex still hadn't a clue what to do with himself. There were only two dangerzones, and he hadn't ran into anyone in the forest quite yet. Finding some kind of food would be nice, but that would mean he would have to go back into the island's settlements. And that meant people. There wasn't too much wildlife on the island and it wasn't like he was going to be able to catch anything with a chainsaw. Apparently there was a bear on the island, but it wasn't like Alex was going to go out hunting for a bear to kill with his... well, "bare" hands. He wasn't THAT Russian.

Amidst the endless green and brown of the forest, Alex soon found himself baring down on two students he didn't quite recognize. It didn't really occur to him to stop, and he was walking at a brisk enough pace to not notice them until he was very clearly in their view.

With one hand still on his daypack, he could only stare at them blankly.

Well...?

Alex waved, and speaking only quietly enough for them to hear, spoke up.

"...hi?"
Edited by Shiola, Oct 3 2010, 09:46 PM.
V7:
Erika Stieglitz
Tyrell Lahti
Caroline Ford
Henry Sparks
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Shiola
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Alex looked at the two of them, as almost immediately after he spoke they realized who he was and were then on the train of thought of getting away from him as soon as possible. It wasn't really the reaction he wanted, but he expected worse. At least they didn't try and hurt him. That wouldn't have ended well. Alex could only help but feel a sense of disappointment with the fact that he was now seen as somewhat of a monster.

I killed two people... that kind of makes me a monster. I didn't enjoy it, but they don't know that.

Did he enjoy it? After the first one, Alex did note a certain sense of relief. But he only really meant to hurt Eric badly, not to kill him. It just happened to be that Eric landed on something pointy, and... well, the rest is history. But killing Robert Lerger... that was....

A mistake.

As the one girl turned to start to run away, Alex spoke up. Rushed, but not in a harsh way.

"Wait... I didn't mean... I'm not going to hurt you! I know I've done some bad shit, just let me explain!"

But she was already gone. No amount of pleading could convince her that Alex was anything short of the worst person she'd would ever lay eyes upon. Hands at his sides, he was a little bit hopeless. A few rays of sunlight beamed into the corner of his eye. It was pretty bright at... dawn? Sunset? Where the hell was he anymore?

Alex hadn't had more than ten minutes of rest in the past... three days. It was starting to wear on him, and he could imagine the dark circles under his eyes did nothing to make him look anything short of menacing. The chainsaw was mostly clean, but it still wasn't really a good indication of his intentions. The blood was literally off his hands... metaphorically anyone he'd run into now, from what he could see, was going to run away or try to kill him.

Beyond that... fuck, TWO? Alex could maybe see not really meaning to kill one person, but two? How the fuck does that happen?

He looked at the boy in front of him with helpless glance.

I'm not a bad person... I just want to survive.
Edited by Shiola, Oct 20 2010, 12:33 AM.
V7:
Erika Stieglitz
Tyrell Lahti
Caroline Ford
Henry Sparks
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Shiola
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Alex Rasputin's hopeless, slightly pathetic stance quickly gave way to a tall, defensive exterior shell. Not to appear close-minded or insincere, but simply to keep a personal integrity throughout the thoughts and recollections he was about to spew forth.

In layman's terms, he looked up towards the other boy and rose to speak at eye level.

"How did it feel to remove their lives?"

The normally unflinching Russian winced when the boy asked him that particularly scathing question. It didn't really... feel... at all. When Alex thought of someone "feeling" something he always imagined normal emotions. There was nothing normal about killing someone, and no real emotion to describe it. The emotions after were what fucked you up. Regret is never a nice emotional state. One Alex couldn't see himself leaving for as long as he lived. (Note that his estimated life-span is, however, very short at the moment.)

"To be honest... I can't really describe it. It's not like I liked it. I did what I had to do to survive. The first time... Some fuckin' nerdalinger decides to cut me across my face - "
Alex points out the fresh slash running from the upper right to lower left corners of his face.

"- and I knew he'd do worse to others. In Robert's case... If it wasn't a chainsaw, it would be a stick or a rock or a knife or a bat. My life was in danger, and he had to die."

The last few words felt slightly empty in Alex's mind. He didn't believe them. Those two boys didn't have to die. None of the students did. They didn't deserve any of this. Alex seemed to almost deflate following the last words, as he sunk into blank regret.

"I regret what I did. I don't want to kill anyone. I never did. I also won't lay down and die for anyone. I wanna live... And it seems like too much to ask these days. I don't even know if I deserve the luxury of not dying at some point in the near future."

"I don't really think there's any way I can make you trust me, but I know that I won't last too long out here on my own. People who... well, who want to justify their own murders by saying that they 'killed the bad guys' will hunt me down. I don't really like admitting it but... For everything I've got going for me in the "scary and large" department, I'm lacking in the "people who don't want to kill me" department."

He took a breath. Typically Alex rarely has that much to say in an entire day, and for some reason being confronted about it let loose a whole lot more than he imagined.

"Can... can you help me? I don't want to die. I don't think I want anything to do with... death... anytime soon."
Edited by Shiola, Oct 31 2010, 10:45 PM.
V7:
Erika Stieglitz
Tyrell Lahti
Caroline Ford
Henry Sparks
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Shiola
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IDDQD
[ *  *  *  * ]
Alex looked at Ben with a blank expression. He was holding in various impulses to tell the kid to stop being such a prick, but under the circumstances it was understandable why he was a bit uptight. Yeah, it did probably make sense to drop the chainsaw. He was more or less unarmed either way, because the giant power tool was really no use as a weapon to pull out very quickly. For the time being, Alex would have to defend himself hand-to-hand.

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't been doing that for most of his life. His fists weren't made of steel, and he couldn't profess to be any kind of martial artist, but when it came to physical confrontations he was very rarely matched. Firearms were really the concern at this point.

Before he could respond, Ben took off. Feeling a bit groggy, Alex unclipped the chainsaw from his daypack and held it in front of him, almost as if it were something dirty that needed to be disposed of. Really, Alex didn't want to be responsible for arming anyone else who managed to stroll by and notice the chainsaw. Alex looked around the forest. The trees were fairly dense, and he could only just barely see Ben Powell from this distance.

Weaponless... The idea didn't sit well with him. If only he had a knife, or a bat, or even just a big, sharp stick. There had to be something around...

Suddenly, a thought clicked into Alex's mind. He was holding a chainsaw, used for cutting wood apart. There was a roll of hockey tape in his daypack: Alex had left it in his bag one night after hockey, and forgot to empty it out when he used the bag on the senior trip. It could be some form of makeshift grip.

Wasting no time, Alex revved the chainsaw once more and looked for the nearest appropriately sized tree. There was a smaller one - only a few years old, he guessed. Swiftly he cut the top of the tree off, where it fell and suspended itself upon a gathering of nearby trees. He then took a four-foot section out of the tree, where it fell idly to the ground. The chainsaw sputtered and churned out smoke - it was going to attract attention, and Alex had to move quickly. The saw seemed to be able to shave off a small section of the tree where Alex was going to tape the handle. It was messy and sharp, but Alex didn't really have the time to be a perfectionist. As soon as there was a considerable dent in the bottom end of the log. It was satisfying somewhat, but Alex's MacGuyver moment was quickly shattered by the sudden death of the chainsaw motor. Without a second thought, he tossed the saw blade-first onto a nearby rock, picked up the sawed-down log, and started walking in the same direction as Ben.

As he taped the end of the stick, Alex could only reflect on the ridiculousness of his situation. He was taping a handle onto a makeshift wooden club, while following a boy who he didn't even know he could trust, on an island covered in armed, sleep-deprived and psychotic high school students.

"....Fuck"

((Alex Rasputin continued elsewhere))
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Caroline Ford
Henry Sparks
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