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The Moon is Laughing at You; 5:06 - DAY 3 - THE REC CENTER (Open, PM First)
Topic Started: Oct 10 2010, 04:18 PM (4,608 Views)
Ciel
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"That’s not a prediction, that’s a spoiler.”
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Zach Jamis and the Rat Pack continued from Ten Shade of Gray, excluding Dustin and Maria...)

Zach's first girlfriend was a chick name Lacy. An overly girly girl name for a chick that wasn't so girly. She wasn't pretty. Cute, maybe, but not pretty. He was a freshman, she was a sophomore. They met in the hallway. Lacy was a gothy type of girl, the kind of kids Zach avoided like the plague. Lacy was fucked up like a girl with black dyed hair and black clothes should be. She was cool. She never liked being touched. She never trusted anyone. She never said thank you. She always spoke in this sarcastic, dry tone that made her sound angry at all times of the day. She hated everything.

And she was Zach's type.

Zach was not a physical kind of guy - sure, he could pretend to be. However, in truth Zach was never into that kind of shit. To Zach, any kid that fucked in the back of a car was just another consumer, using Hannah Montana brand condoms and Linkin Park douches. Convinced that they would be normal if they just sucked some guy offf. Sex was just another commercial product and it made Zach sick to even think about it. Zach didn't think of shit like beauty and sex and Lacy was cool with that. Lacy told Zach that something had happened to her, a long time ago, and she didn't want anyone to touch her anymore. Zach never pressed the subject.

So instead of making out, they made fun of fat women with fannypacks and chuckle over gay shit at the mall. They'd go to Lacy's brother's pad and get shit ass drunk. They watched shitty movies, and generally brood together like two angsty kids should. It was the kind of relation Zach wanted. The type that he didn't think was possible. He liked it. Lacy was cool. Everything was cool.

Then one night she kissed him. Everything just crumbled after that.

Fucking bitch lied to him. No touching his ass.

Why the hell was he thinking about her? It only served to make him brood even more. Better times? Happy times? Possibly. Zach vaguely recalled smiling when they were joking around. What would Lacy think about Zach Jamis being a pussy-footed group leader, giving ? Then Zach figured that Lacy wouldn't be making sarcastic quips. She was probably crying, face buried in a pink pillow. Her raven locks frizzed, her pajamas wrinkled. Who knows, maybe Lacy turned into a complete puss way before he ever did. She could be staying up right now, watching him mope. Lacy should be in college right now, right? Right? Go back to sleep Lacy. Nothing to see here. Just some sad fuck.

Zach didn't like that little picture hanging in his parlor, so he threw it away. He didn't have any pictures left though. He certainly did not want to look out the window at the... grass...

...

...

What the hell was he thinking? God damn it.

Zach shifted uncomfortably. Shit. That was what he was looking at. Shit. This couch was shit. This rec center was shit. Everything on this island was shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

"Shit..."

Zach looked down at the grubby floor, rather content with staring at pretty much anything. His group was here, Doc and Ash, Alfalfa and Sam. Cassie was around somewhere, and Raggedy Ann and Dustin were off... somewhere. Zach told them to stay close. They didn't listen. So fuck 'em. Sides, the less he saw of Dustin FUCKING Royal the happier Zach could pretend to be.

Zach's hand was trembling. Fuck.

Yes. Yes, he knew what he needed. Fuck. Smoke. Yeah, a smoke. Mother fucking smoke, if he didn't get a smoke he'd probably keep thinking about Lacy and his parents and home and start to cry like a fucking baby a smoke could end it all Zach smoke smoke smoke smok-"Fuck..."

Zach got up. Zach turned to Sam. "I'm going for a smoke."

Sam just nodded and said nothing

The Auditorium wasn't anything special. Wasn't really nice. Wasn't really shitty. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. There was a small pool of blood on the floor as he went down the aisle. Fuck. First piss, now blood? Random blood. He stepped over it. He didn't want to get his boots bloody. Fuckin'... Zach found himself near the end of the aisle, and gave a quick look around. He took out a cig and his fancy lighter, but hesitated. The smell of blood was giving him a headache. The puddle was small but it made the whole room smell like shit. Zach turned to the door leading outside. Why the hell not? Gotta air out the room somehow. He opened the door and was greeted by the moon. It was staring at him.

The moon is laughing at you Zach. Little tubby fuck thinks your face looks funny. "Haha, look at your face! That's a face only a mother could love! No wonder you're going to die! NYEHEHEHE!"

"Well harhar," Zach muttered, the cig still dangling on his lips. "You got me there. Asshole."

... are you talking to the moon? Jesus christ you're losing it Zach. You need a smoke. God damn it, if you didn't smoke right now you might as well put on a straightjacket and hide out in a padded cell.

Zach sneered. Flicked the lighter. Light. Click. Inhale. Exhale. Like always.
Edited by Ciel, Oct 10 2010, 09:58 PM.
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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Pigeon Army
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is the Soul Machine.
[ *  *  * ]
((Dustin Royal and Maria Graham also continued from Ten Shades of Gray, but in a slightly different place for now))

"Fucking heeeeeeeell..."

Dustin could've thrown Maria Graham on the ground, right now, and walked away without feeling the slightest bit guilty. It was the least he could do to repay her for the damage she was doing to his back, god knows how much of it permanent. She was heavy. She'd seemed light initially, almost like human balsa wood, but a couple of miles soon put paid to that impression.

Then there was the whole losing the group thing. It wasn't even that he'd lost them - it was more that Zach Jamis, King of Testosterone Kingdom, had blasted a trail through to the rec centre and left Royal and his baggage behind. He was unencumbered, he could move however quickly he fucking well wanted, but did he have to be such a douchebag about it?

The lothario-cum-pack mule trudged down the road, glancing at the small erectibuildings flanking it. A tiny supermarket, a convenience store, a tavern - no sign of the goddamn rec centre. The darkness certainly wasn't helping matters, and the moon was satisfied to act only as a cheat and a tease. So much for nature's flashlight, Dustin thought to himself, in between cursing his charitable nature and swearing at Jamis.

Enough of this shit. Dustin lurched over to the convenience store and unceremoniously dumped Maria down on the ground outside the door. His back screamed out in ecstasy as he removed her from it, the sweet feeling of relief washing through his spine. He grabbed the sliding door and pulled it open, a little windchime behind it jingling as he did so. Had he been a small town girl living in a lonely world, on a midnight train going anywhere, it would've reminded Dustin of home.

He turned back to his burden for the night and hauled her up into his arms, his arms groaning as he did so. Awkwardly, he carried into the store, as though they were newlywed squatters. He lowered her onto the tiles and went back to the door, sliding it shut with another antithetically cheery jingle.

Looking around the convenience store, he was sorely disappointed. The shelves were all empty and the fridges had broken long ago. He wondered for a second whether his expectations had been rather too high, but he put that thought out of his head. It wasn't unreasonable to expect service in a situation like this. Starvation didn't win you ratings.

With nothing else to do, Dustin pushed himself up onto the counter and looked at Maria. It seemed cliche at this point to look at women and think of what he would do if this were any other situation, but Dustin was nothing if not consistent, and he did so for a good few minutes. Aside from the scorch marks, the dirt, the bruises, the horrible, horrible highlights - well, aside from a lot, Dustin would not be adverse to hitting that, as was the parlance of Compton. But, well, here we are, I guess.

Then, suddenly, it hit Dustin with the force of an eighteen-wheeler with a jet engine strapped to the back.

"MY FUCKING GUITAR!"
THE LIVING - V4
G087 - Rachel Gettys / Tambourine / The Groundskeeper's Hut / Babysitter: Ciel
B027 - Dustin Royal / Yatagan / Residential Area / Babysitter: Hollyquin
B108 - Ma'afu Tuigamala / Astra 400 (9mm) [x3 magazines (8 round capacity)] / The Tunnels / Babysitter: Inky


THE DECEASED - V4
B097 - Max Neill / The Lighthouse

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PIGE AND ARCH - SALES MASTERS!!!
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Super Llama
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STILL THE BEST 1973
[ *  *  *  * ]
Maria bounded down the sta-WHOA! Maria carefully made her way down the stairs after nearby tripping and tumbling down them, making her way into the living room.

"Hey guys, good morning." She said to everybody, her cheerful smile belaying the awful, awful dream she had last night.

"Ah, good day to you, Maria." Sir Winston the Kangaroo said, adjusting his monocle before taking a sip of his tea. A loud roar from the corner of the room announced the presence of Robo-Bear 5000, who was sitting on the sofa, attempting to knit a scarf. Only he was having a lot of trouble, what with his giant metal bear paws bristling with weapons. Silly Robo-Bear 5000.

"Did you sleep well?" Sir Winston said, taking a break from his tea to take a bite from his scone. Maria really wished that he didn't bring it up. She was hoping to forget about the dream, but then again, maybe talking about it would help.

"Not too well..." She said, plopping down on the sofa next to Robo-Bear 5000. "I had this really bad dream, where I got kidnapped, and put on this deserted island and a bunch of people from my school were there, too. And we were all told to kill each other or else we'd all blow up. And then I got beat up by this real jerkface, and then everything went crazy and I...I set somebody on fire." She shivered as she remembered the fire, though thankfully the details escaped her for the moment.

"Hmm...that sounds like quite a dream." Sir Winston said in response as he did some other stereotypically British things.

"Yeah...good thing it was just a dream right?" She said, as if trying to convince herself. It didn't really happen, right?

"Step away from the bike!" A voice said as somebody stepped through the front door.

"Oh hey, Nicolas Cage from the Wicker Man! How did your date go?"

"OH GOD NOT THE BEES!"

"Oh...that bad, huh?"

"KILLING ME WON'T BRING BACK YOUR GODDAMN HONEY!"

"Hey, no need to take it out on me." Maria said. He never did have much luck with women. Maybe if he didn't hit them so often-

"Oh, by the way." Sir Winston spoke up again. "You have a visitor."

"Huh? I do?" She said, not expecting visitors this early.

"That's right." A female voice said, coming from the direction of the kitchen entrance. Maria turned to look and...

"...huh?" Maria looked right at Francine Moreau, standing in the doorway, and suddenly an intense feeling of dread came over her. She stood up, starting to back out of the room. "No...no, you're not supposed to be here."

"That's no way to treat a guest." Sir Winston said nonchalantly. "She said she just came here to ask you a question."

"Yeah, that's right." Francine said, stepping out of the doorway and towards Maria. "Maria...why did you set me on fire?"

Maria reeled back as Francine moved towards her. "No...No I didn't. I-It was just a dream!" That's right, it was just a dream. She didn't know what she was talking about.

"No it wasn't." Francine said, following after her. "It really hurt, you know. Could you even imagine how much it hurt?" She reached out and grabbed a hold of Maria's arm, and a horrible burning pain pierced right through it.

"G-get away from me!" Panic began to set in as she tried to pull away, but only succeeded in tripping over the bottom staircase and falling over, Francine right above her with a death grip on her arm. The pain was worse than anything she could imagine, and if she had some kind of sharp object she'd be willing to cut off her own arm just to get away from it.

"And the smell. Don't you remember the smell?" Francine replied, looking her right in the eye with an intensely hateful expression, and all of a sudden Maria COULD remember the smell. Oh God, how she could remember the smell. So intense she could feel the bile rising in her throat, and it took everything she had to keep from throwing up. It wasn't a dream. It was so very real. She really DID kill somebody, in one of the worst ways she could imagine.

"Why did you set me on fire, Maria?"

"Yes, I am indeed curious of that as well, Maria." Sir Winston said from the next room.

"Why did you do it?"

"HOW'D IT GET BURNED!?"

"*ROAR!*"

"WHY DID YOU DO IT?" Francine grabbed hold of her other arm, and the burning pain shot up it as well, slowly starting to spread across her entire body and it was horrible worse than anything she could imagine and that smell the smell just wouldn't go away please she didn't want to smell it anymore it was an accident she didn't mean to kill anybody please just stop it the smell was getting even worse and Francine's skin and flesh started to burn away and the heat was unbearable but she wouldn't stop staring at her please just stop it just stop just stop it just STOP IT!

----------

Maria awoke with a frightened gasp, and Francine was gone, and the burning pain was gone. But the smell wasn't. It wasn't as intense, but it still lingered there, refusing to go away and let her forget, even for a moment, about what she'd done. Sitting up, she took note of her surroundings. She couldn't see very much, but it looked like it was nightfall, and apparently she was indoors. Finding a counter to lean against, she brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them as she felt that familiar, crushing weight in her chest as the guilt welled up inside her.

Before, she was perfectly content with gathering all her friends together, to at least ensure that if she died, she wouldn't die alone. Now she wasn't sure if she could even look any of them in the eye anymore. She was a murderer, not any better than Omar. Hell, at least when Omar killed Warren he just shot him in the chest. He didn't have to suffer very much, or for very long. He didn't have to feel a red hot flare burrowing into his chest, the heat charring flesh and bone. If Omar was a murderer, then she was an absolute monster.

She kept trying to convince herself that it was an accident, but in reality it really wasn't. It didn't matter that she didn't mean to kill anyone; she still pointed that gun at Phil, and consciously pulled the trigger. She knew that even though it wasn't a real gun, it was still dangerous, and she still pulled the trigger anyway. It was only an accident in that that somebody else ended up getting burned aliv-

"MY FUCKING GUITAR!"

Maria winced visibly as a familiar voice shouted and snapped her out of her self deprecation. She looked up to see somebody standing nearby, the moonlight coming through the window just barely lighting his face up enough to see who it was.

"...Dustin?"
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Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"


The Dead


banthesun
 
She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

ZombiexCreame
 
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Sunny Delighted
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your mom wanted to make sure that her clothes didn’t steal the spotlight from her new haircut so she went with this feather fringed semi-transparent catsuit w/modesty pleather panels in a simple, understated black.
[ *  *  * ]
((Samya Franklin countinued fromTen Shades of Gray, like the rest of the crew))

Samya was lost.

Not in a physical sense, she was right in the crappy rec center with everyone else. But mentally, she was drowning. Going down. Abandon ship and all hope ye who enter here.

They should have put that on the busess. It wasn't fair to kill them all off without at least warning them.

She munched on a piece of stale bread, drank some water. What she really wanted was her trail mix, but she was saving that for when Dustin and Maria came back smelling like each other. Then they both could take a long walk off a short plank for all she cared at the moment. Fucking slut.

She was referring to Dustin, of course.

She dug in her bag again, found her deck of cards. She needed something to . . . (forget it)she was going to sleep, they'd be alright. They would have to be, Samya did not have the strength to take care of anyone right now, including herself. She might not wake up again.

That might be for the best, who even knew anymore?

"Hey guys, I'm going to sleep now. If you're staying up, you can play with these if you'd like. Night." She sat the cards down. Grabbed her bags to use a pillow, and hopped on a couch and slept.

Maybe she'd wake up herself again.
The Fallen Everdreamers
 
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Egads Sunny
Egads You should be Cobra Commander
Sunny NO.
Egads But when you hit the moneyshot, you can yell "COOOOOOOBRAAAAAAAAAA"


Quote:
 
SenatorGoose marriage
SenatorGoose is a sacred bond
SenatorGoose between a man, a woman and some shoes


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mib_fy9526like
mib_fy9526ask me a state
mib_fy9526I can name its Senatots


The New Doomed Kids
 
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Tagabasa
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The Killable One
[ *  *  * ]
((Simon Fletcher continued from Ten Shades of Gray))

The rec center was fairly dusty and grubby, alright. But it was a good temperature and a pretty decent hiding place. In fact, Simon really could have begun to like the building if it wasn’t for that damn puddle of blood.

He had pretty much been staring at it since he got here. The iron flavored stench of the substance was almost overpowering. Who the hell’s blood was that, anyway? One of the people from the first announcement? It had been about a day since then. There was a decent chance that more people had died.

Oh, God. Think of something else, Simon, anything else! Alright. He took a deep breath. Liang zhi lao hu, liang zhi lao hu. Pao de kuai. Pao de kuai. Yi zhi mei you er duo, yi zhi mei you wei ba. Zhen qi guai, zhen qi guai.

Somehow, singing a Chinese kids’ song to himself could help Simon calm down. Go figure. The boy turned to the pile of blood again. He couldn’t go on being afraid of the stuff, especially if he was going to be the medic.

Why was Simon the medic, anyway? He never wanted to follow his parents into medicine; that was Jessica. Simon hated needles, hated blood, hated the idea of having someone’s life depend of him. All he had was book knowledge and days spent at hospitals with his father. But maybe that was enough, since they weren’t exactly going to find a practicing doctor on his island.

Something in Simon’s head made him walk up to the blood, examine it. Up close, it didn’t seem like anything to be afraid of. The reddish stain was simply another part of the things that happened on this game. Simon had heard his classmates’ deaths made into jokes. He could handle this.

Samya said something. Simon lifted his head to turn to her. “Goodnight, Sam.” Somehow, the first syllable seemed wrong. Simon felt like sleeping himself, honestly, but it might not be a good idea. Zach, somehow their leader, had left the center for the time being and Dustin and Maria were missing. He wasn’t some kind of fearless protector, but he could yell if something happened, if one of them needed assistance.

Simon took his seat a few feet away from the puddle of blood. How long had he been up, again? Around 2 days? Did it really matter? Honestly, he was just amazed he made it this far. Everyone Simon knew would have voted him least likely to survive in event of a zombie apocalypse, or other tragedy.

He started to hum a little, as Simon started with another song. Xiao yan zi, chuan hua yi, nian nian chun tian lai zhe li. Maybe they really could make it? Well, there was point in thinking about it too hard right now.

Edited by Tagabasa, Oct 11 2010, 07:28 PM.
Version 4 Character:
Simon Fletcher (B104): Dead at The Sawmill

Version 5 Character:
Casey Malkovich (G037): Dead at The Farmhouse

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chitoryu12
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Leader
[ *  *  * ]
((Christopher Carlson continued from Ten Shades of Gray, duh))

How the flying fuck did I end up doing this?

He made a promise to himself. He promised himself that he wouldn't trust anyone, that he wouldn't join up with any groups in a ridiculous attempt to survive the battle. He may not have been much of a watcher of SOTF, but simple reasoning and common sense told him that only one person in this group would be allowed to survive at the end. What was the point of teaming up to make it out of here if you would inevitably have to kill everyone else or pray that at the end, they would all commit suicide just so you could live?

And in all honesty, Chris' only real fear was death. He was an atheist, and had been questioning the concept of God since the end of middle school. By 10th grade, he was absolutely sure that there was no supernatural or afterlife. He never really considered it that much after that.

But in his senior year, he started thinking about what it would be like to die. What it would be like to have your brain just completely shut off and eventually disintegrate into nothing. What does it feel like? Does conscious thought just slowly slip away, or is it like the bullet to your medulla flips a switch and makes everything go dark? What does "nothing" feel like? If there's no afterlife, after all, there must be just nothing. Would you even know?

The concept kept him awake many nights. If he died in his sleep for whatever reason, would he keep dreaming? Would the dream just dissolve into a blackness that he couldn't feel or see or acknowledge? If there was an afterlife, was he set for eternal damnation for not believing in God? Was he on a one-way ticket to Hell? Would it be eternal torture, or even worse: eternal nothing? An afterlife molded to his own beliefs?

He always hoped that there really was something after death, at least reincarnation so he could experience life once more. But he was always questioning that as well. Nobody ever came back to tell us, after all.

And that was the basis for his fear of death. And why the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the feeling you get when you've just been dumped by your girlfriend or get taken to the principal by a security guard when you didn't know what you did wrong, was steadily growing larger.

It was hard for Chris to keep his grip on sanity as the days went on. While he managed to appear calm and collected, his entire world was going to hell in his mind and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He knew that he could only make it out of there if he killed friends or let them get killed. It took a massive amount of effort to keep him from just walking away from the group and becoming a stalking serial killer, slaughtering every student until he was the only one left.

The thought that he would do this scared him worse than death.

The rec center was a fairly disgusting place to stop, covered in dust and grime. The unmistakable smell of blood came from a small puddle, and he hoped that he didn't know the original owner of that puddle. It was shelter, nothing more, but he would have preferred something with at least a bed.

It wasn't until they arrived that he realized that Maria and Dustin were missing. Maria was pretty much the sole reason why he broke his promise to himself and stayed with the group, and now she was gone. That, too, was making it more and more likely that he would leave.

He didn't even know why the fuck he was staying. As they walked, he felt almost like a robot on a pre-programmed path, or like some omnipotent force was controlling his every move. He didn't really feel like he was making his own decisions, more like he was just another character in a story that was being forced to go this way for dramatic purposes.

He couldn't remember where he read it, but someone had once written that sometimes, you're not the hero, villain, love interest, comic relief, whatever. Sometimes you're just an extra, a mook. A redshirt.

Thank God he was wearing purple.

And so, Christopher Carlson just slumped in a little folding metal chair, arms crossed over his stomach, eyes open and flicking between everyone in the room, brass knuckles cold against his elbow. Just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a miracle.
Characters for v4

Christopher Carlson: B052
Weapons: Brass knuckles


Jake Crimson: B084 (Adopted)
Weapons: Cinderblock

Characters for v5

Clayton Leven: B050
Weapons: Handcuffs

Shit people say

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ET.Requiem
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[ *  * ]
((Ash Morrison continued from Ten Shades of Gray))

Now that they were back in more familiar territory, Ash allowed herself to relax. The filthiness of the rec center didn't bother her at all. In fact, she almost appreciated the sight and smell of the place, however musty it was. It was possibly one of the last things that she would ever see.

Who knew what could happen during the night? Maria and Dustin could show up with plans to take the group down. If not, one of her temporary teammates could snap and start shooting up the room. Uncertainty and fear had become a part of Ash's life, so she had no choice but to accept it and try to make the best of it.

She placed her backpack down and opened it up. It was time to have some food and water. The bread didn't go down very well, but the taste wasn't as bad as it could be. Sipping her bottled water to wash it down, she noticed Samya going to sleep and Simon starting to hum a lttle tune to himself.

Were they all dealing with the fear of death like she was? Or were they just trying to keep themselves distracted? She didn't know. In fact, she wasn't about to ask them. They could handle their own issues just fine.

The big picture was something that Ash had to look at. At this point, it was just a fanciful dream. But it was not something she could let go of. Somehow, they had to do it. They had to escape.

"How?" She asked herself quietly. "How can we get off the island alive?"
V3 Character
B88: Jeff Thorne - Dead from gunshot wounds.

V4 Characters
B103 - Kevin Harding - Killed by a javelin.
G035 - Ash Morrison - Tumbled down a hill.
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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Cassidy Wakemore continued from you know where))

Dustin's guitar bounced up and down on Cassidy's back as she brought up the rear of the Rat Pack, wobbling on her short, tired legs as her vision blurred and her head grew heavier. Were they there yet? Were they there yet? Cassie so wanted them to be there, so wanted to have an opportunity to sleep. Stupid Maria got to be carried around while she had to force herself to move with everyone else. Yeah, Maria was hurt from that person who's name he forgot, but still!

She frowned as she suddenly noticed that the body of the guitar was slapping at the small of her back. She adjusted the strap, holding it away from her chest. "Jesus, this is such a pain," she said, keeping her head down and mentally counting the cracks in the sidewalk. "Sometimes I really hate being short."

Cassidy frowned as she noticed that the body of her guitar kept bumping against the small of her back. She adjusted the strap, holding it away from her chest. "Jesus, this is such a pain," she said, keeping her head down and mentally counting the cracks in the sidewalk. "Sometimes I really hate being short."

"How about platform shoes?" Maria offered her opinion, looking down as well, but so that she could deliberately step on the cracks. "That'd help. Plus they look really cool." She stopped, thinking for a moment before she shook her head. "Oh wait, no they don't. Nevermind, I was thinking of something else."

"Unless they're the kind of platform shoes that can make me jump like Mario," she replied, "I'm not interested."

Maria stopped in her tracks. "Hey...that WOULD be cool!" She said, grinning as she took a step forward. Suddenly, she looked down, realizing that she didn't step on a crack, and quickly jumped forward to the next one. "That didn't happen."

Cassie giggled and reached her foot back to squish the crack like a bug, giggling and ignoring the fact that it did precisely jack shit. "Oh, it so totally did! You got a COMBO BREAKER!"

"N-no I didn't!" Maria retorted, jumping forward to the next crack, and then back to the previous one, building her combo back up again.

Cassie shrugged and smiled, walking on ahead. "I'll let it slide just this once. But don't let it happen again, alright?" She took a few more steps, seeing Maria's house creep up in the distance, then grinned and rushed ahead. "Home stretch, Maria!" she said, pumping the neck of her bass back and forth as she ran. "Better catch up or I'll get first dibs on the muffins!"

This warning made Maria run at full tilt, her crack-stepping game quickly forgotten. But Cassidy had a headstart and managed to crash into the door, fumbling for the handle and finally getting it open. She pulled it and stumbled inside,
panting for breath and looking around for a seat that the rest of the gang hadn't taken up yet. She finally settled for the floor, sitting down, then lying on her side, guitar safely out of the way. Her eyelids almost sealed themselves shut when she noticed something that wasn't in the room. She stood bolt-upright and looked around in a panic.

"Guys, where's Maria?"
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

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

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

V4:
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V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Pigeon Army
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is the Soul Machine.
[ *  *  * ]
There was a gasp from the floor, and Dustin cut short his worrying about his guitar. Her hair mussed and eyes bleary, Maria had awoken, and was now squinting at yours truly through her sleep-covered eyelids.

"...Dustin?"

Dustin chuckled. "That's my name." She didn't seem too traumatized at the present moment, which was far better than she had been at the Town Center. Then again, that could've just been a result of the bad light in the room. God, this moon is shit.

Dustin slid off the bench and sat down with his back against it, holding Maria's sluggish gaze. The light played with her hair in a really odd way from this angle, Dustin observed - it was almoALMOST beautifulALMOST.

"Y'alright over there?" he said, his voice trying its damned hardest to be jovial. "Couldn't find the rec centre, so we're just shacking up here for now."
THE LIVING - V4
G087 - Rachel Gettys / Tambourine / The Groundskeeper's Hut / Babysitter: Ciel
B027 - Dustin Royal / Yatagan / Residential Area / Babysitter: Hollyquin
B108 - Ma'afu Tuigamala / Astra 400 (9mm) [x3 magazines (8 round capacity)] / The Tunnels / Babysitter: Inky


THE DECEASED - V4
B097 - Max Neill / The Lighthouse

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PIGE AND ARCH - SALES MASTERS!!!
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Super Llama
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STILL THE BEST 1973
[ *  *  *  * ]
Maria watched as Dustin confirmed his presence, sitting down so that the two were eye-to-eye. As Dustin asked if she was alright, she opened her mouth to speak.

No, I'm not, actually. I'm still distraught over the fact that I burned someone to death, and I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to break the news to Cass when I see her again, IF I see her again before the announcements expose me as a horrible murderer. And even then, there's still Duncan and Max, who I probably wouldn't be able to get to in time barring some kind of miracle, which I don't think I'm very prone to getting lately, and I think I'm one more bad thing away from a nervous breakdown.

"...yeah, I guess." She said, offering a weak smile. It was then that she began to realize how sore she was. The pain from the beating she had sustained was starting to subside, but it was still making itself known. In a way, she was glad for the darkness; she didn't even want to think about what she must look like right now.

Wait, the rec center? Did they move? Come to think of it, where was Cass? And all those other people she saw before she lost consciousness. Were they joining up with them, or had they gone their separate ways? It seemed Maria had some catching up to do.

"I...I think I have some catching up to do. Where's Cass? And those other people? And where are we?"
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Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"


The Dead


banthesun
 
She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

ZombiexCreame
 
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Ciel
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"That’s not a prediction, that’s a spoiler.”
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Okay, guys, I'm going to give you all permission to skip over me completely until Story gets here. XD Zach's staying put till then.)
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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Pigeon Army
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is the Soul Machine.
[ *  *  * ]
"I...I think I have some catching up to do. Where's Cass? And those other people? And where are we?"

"They're at the goddamn rec centre," Dustin said, his voice flecked with bitterness at being left behind again. They really were keen to get him out of their sights, weren't they? Bizarre. He had such a lovely voice, it made no sense to shirk it off. "Jamis left us behind to fend ourselves, y'see. They have my fucking guitar, too."

Dustin glanced over the girl again. The mesh shirt had made rather clear certain options that Dustin had avoided considering up until this point. He wasn't...aroused, per se, but, y'know, beggars can't be choosers and all that. After a moment's thought, Dustin decided to plunge in. What was the worst that could happen?

"So..."

Well?

"...wanna fuck?"

Oh, real smooth. Live up to that fine reputation.
THE LIVING - V4
G087 - Rachel Gettys / Tambourine / The Groundskeeper's Hut / Babysitter: Ciel
B027 - Dustin Royal / Yatagan / Residential Area / Babysitter: Hollyquin
B108 - Ma'afu Tuigamala / Astra 400 (9mm) [x3 magazines (8 round capacity)] / The Tunnels / Babysitter: Inky


THE DECEASED - V4
B097 - Max Neill / The Lighthouse

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PIGE AND ARCH - SALES MASTERS!!!
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Tagabasa
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The Killable One
[ *  *  * ]
It was quiet in the rec center now. Simon had finished humming his second song, which meant that he was pretty much out of Chinese kids tunes. If he was going to start up again, it would have to be video game music or something. Perhaps wisely, he decided against it. The air in the building was comfortable enough, but the stink of blood still hung thickly around his head.

Focus. It's just a little blood. Everybody has tons more in their bodies. It's not scary; your classmates are dying around you.

Simon kept repeating those thoughts to himself. It seemed that he was going through a cycle. First, he would freak out. Then, he would try to reason out his situation. Last, he would start to panic. Once the panic was over, he would become calm again. Now it appeared that he had just finished with the calm phase and was moving onto trying to make sense of his situation.

There was, of course, nothing to make sense of. They were on an island. They were killing each other. Two days had passed, and any second now that insane terrorist was going to come back over the intercom and say the names of some more corpses. Who would it be this time? Alex? Trevor? Glory? Maybe even the girl who attacked him or the other one who was already a killer. If their names were read, Simon wasn't sure how he would feel about it. They might have almost murdered him, sure, but...

He tried not to think about it any longer.

Instead, Simon decided that he was going to have to have something to eat. He took a few nibbles of the food in this pack, being careful to savor every bite. A week ago, he wouldn't have enjoyed the taste at all. Simon was not any master chef, but these rations were far too dry and difficult to chew. He wouldn't have finished eating them if he had the choice ever four days ago. But now, the food was precious, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Funny how things change once you get thrown on Death Island, huh?

But then he remembered that there were still people missing: Maria and Dustin. Where the hell were they? Did those two just run off by themselves on purpose, or were they still sitting in a wood somewhere, waiting for their group to come back for them. Simon dismissed the second thought; if he could manage to still alive this long, nobody else had an excuse. He adjusted his seat on the ground. Maria and Dustin were fine. They had to be.

Simon had never minded the quiet, but now it was becoming a little odd. He coughed twice, but made no other noise.
Version 4 Character:
Simon Fletcher (B104): Dead at The Sawmill

Version 5 Character:
Casey Malkovich (G037): Dead at The Farmhouse

Spoiler: click to toggle
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Super Llama
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STILL THE BEST 1973
[ *  *  *  * ]
Jamis...Jamis...Maria couldn't recall if she knew of anybody named Jamis, but it seemed like he was calling the shots now. And apparently he deemed fit to leave the two of them behind. What a dick move. Maria sighed. At least she was left with company. She'd hate to have to spend the night with just herself and the dark thoughts and reminders that were now lingering in her head.

"So...wanna fuck?"

.

.

.

?

Well, that sure as hell got Maria's attention. She couldn't help but just stare in surprise at Dustin and the incredibly blunt manner of his proposition. Hell, this was Dustin Royal. She had to expect something like this to happen sooner or later. But after all that happened recently you'd think he'd be a little more tactful about it. She opened her mouth to speak...

...and then just laughed.

This was like a scene in a bad slasher movie. 'Oh God, we just got away from the serial killer that butchered one of our best friends!' 'Wanna fuck?' 'DO I!?' And then they did and the giant invulnerable chainsaw-wielding luchadore popped up and killed them both five minutes later. It was something that was just too silly to happen in real life, and yet here they were. She couldn't stop laughing. Her chest hurt from the still unhealed bruises, but she just couldn't stop herself. Fortunately, it finally subsided after a minute or two. Christ, she needed that. A good distraction to keep her mind off things for a while.

To keep her mind off things for a while...

"...yeah, okay."
Edited by Super Llama, Oct 18 2010, 10:31 PM.
Posted Image
Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"


The Dead


banthesun
 
She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

ZombiexCreame
 
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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chitoryu12
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Leader
[ *  *  * ]
Chris leaned forward, hearing his back crack slightly. He winced, then stretched. More cracking.

Ow

5 minutes of sitting, staring, and contemplating existence doesn't make for a wonderful time. He would have been bored, had he not been so preoccupied with his own mind.

So he stood and stretched some more, arching his back so much that his ribs would have been visible if he took off his shirt. He was feeling hungry again, so he reached down and pulled a tin of crackers from his pack. As he munched on the unsalted breadstuff, he looked at the boy who coughed. He was nothing special. Hadn't even learned his name yet.

Something made him want to know this boy's name. Maybe it was his worry of dying alone with a nameless mob, or an attempt to connect to someone else on this island and try to get through the terror with a friend. He wasn't entirely sure, to be quite honest. It was one of those nagging feelings that comes from nowhere and everywhere at once.

So Christoper Carlson slowly walked over and sat next to him on the filthy, dusty ground. There was an awkward pause of a few seconds as he thought of the best way to get to know someone.

"So.......I'm Chris. Carlson. Ummm...you?"

Smooth, buddy. Smooth.
Characters for v4

Christopher Carlson: B052
Weapons: Brass knuckles


Jake Crimson: B084 (Adopted)
Weapons: Cinderblock

Characters for v5

Clayton Leven: B050
Weapons: Handcuffs

Shit people say

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