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Not an Easy Out; Morning, Day 3
Topic Started: Oct 13 2010, 09:07 PM (3,670 Views)
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((Enter Lucas Lupradio))

What a day. No, more than that, what a week. Everything together, the stress of finals, the thrill of impending graduation, the excitement of the school trip, the mind-wrenching gut-churning fear caused by being captured by terrorists and watching an execution, the stress of hiding, it was all too much. Just too much. Long story short, Lucas Lupradio had nearly had a breakdown. He'd nearly lost his cool, nearly lost himself. Nearly given up.

But, somehow, he'd pulled himself together, persisted, and so he still lived. He'd spent the first two days on the island dodging people, hiding, making his way from inhospitable climate to inaccessible environment in an effort to dodge the dangerous members of his class. He knew there would be some. Knew his relative popularity wouldn't be enough to keep him safe. He'd considered keeping to that strategy, hiding away until the end of the game, waiting everyone out, banking on his outdoors experience and stamina to keep him going.

Problem was, he had a little thing called a conscience, and it had been prodding at him the whole time, telling him he couldn't leave everyone to die, suggesting that he had a greater purpose than saving his own sorry hide. He'd been able to ignore it for two days. Ignore the occaisional gunshots, the couple of loud explosions. The plume of smoke. But, with today's announcement, it had just been too much. Forty people were dead. Forty of Lucas' classmates, gone, never to return. He couldn't stay in hiding after that.

But he couldn't exactly go around and let himself get killed easily, either. No, that wouldn't do well at all. It was why he had made sure to be armed. Strapped to his backpack was his assigned weapon. It was some sort of large, spiky stick thing. Looked fairly useless overall, unless he could keep his opponent at just the right distance.

That was why he was also carrying the Skorpion vz.61 he had found next to the decapitated body of one Dawne Jiang. The gun was heavy. Solid. Terrifying. Just what Lucas needed to keep himself safe. Better still, he'd figured out about how it worked, firing off three shots from the partially-emptied clip earlier on to get a feel for it. After unloading the clip and checking his ammunition, he felt pretty confident in his chances. Still six bullets in the gun. The other weapon on his back for a backup. No, Lucas Lupradio was going to be nobody's easy prey.

He didn't like the thought of killing his classmates, but he'd come to terms with the fact that a few of them had to go. Reiko Ishida. Maxwell Lombardi. Kris Hartmann. Clio Gabriella. Nick Reid. Alex Rasputin. These people had surrendered any right they had to explain themselves by killing multiple times. If Lucas saw any of them, he knew what he had to do. He would, much as it pained him, pull the trigger and blow them away.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. He was at the Greens because it was a recently-vacated danger zone. He'd been lurking nearby, ready to move in. Ready to set up camp. This way, he had the initiative. He had things under contol. He would turn this golf course into his fortress, and anyone not playing could find safety there.

The others... well, he had enough weapons to keep them out. He should probably think of a long term plan eventually, but that had never been his strong suit. For now, he would live in the moment, and this was a damn fine moment to be Lucas Lupradio.

((So, though Lucas is doomed to die, remember that your characters don't know that. Also, remember you can't GM him. Cheers!))
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Lucas was walking the greens, investigating the surroundings. It was unnatural, which made him feel odd. Not a bit like the wide wilderness of the rest of the island, where he'd been fairly at home. This was a golf course. A big old reminder of man's attempted mastery over the wilderness. The only reason Lucas was going to stick it out here was the visibility. A golf course was not a place where one could hide easily. He could see most anywhere, and, given his SMG, that would be to his advantage. No ambushes. No surprise knives in the back.

He was near a bunker he'd been inspecting when he turned, scanning the area, and caught a glimpse of movement. Someone was nearby. He couldn't make out who, couldn't begin to guess at their motives. That wasn't good. He readied his gun. Best to be safe. Wouldn't do to shoot up someone harmless, but... better safe than dead. Certainly.

"Hello?" he called in the general direction in which he thought he'd seen movement. There were some nice hills in the course, especially around this area, so he couldn't quite be sure. It would be a better move, he realized, to get on top of one, set up there. Then his line of sight would be nearly perfect. That, however, would have to come after he'd handled the current situation.

"Who's there? It's Lucas Lupradio. I'm not planning on shooting anybody who's not gonna do the same to me."

Except Reiko Ishida. And Kris Hartmann. And Alex Rasputin. And Nick Reid. And Clio Gabriella. And Maxwell Lombardi. Still, no reason to got warning them if it was one of the multiple-killers sneaking up, right?
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Ericka Bradley. Killer. Victim? Frankie Watson. Two people Lucas didn't know, except through the announcements. That complicated matters, however, Ericka had been honest. She'd told him the score. That had to count for something. He hadn't known who she was. She could have tried to lure him out and kill him.

She was from the library? Lucas didn't spend too much time in the library. He was a film man, not a bookworm. Still, an academic background did not imply full-on insanity. A difficult decision, then. A very difficult one. She stepped clear of the cover of the tree line, and Lucas looked at her. Short. Skinny. Messy hair. Didn't look too threatening.

She asked why he was in the open.

"Well, Ericka, I figure our best bet here is to get a nice area set up and wait this out. A fortress, if you will. Keep away the psychos, keep a trusted group together. You're welcome to join."

Quick as he could, he snapped the SMG into line with the girl.

"Provided you spill the beans on that kill right now. Names. Places. Details. I want to believe you, but... with real murderers out there? Who can tell anymore?"
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Blah blah blah. She went on and on about the kill. He'd wanted details, not an entire narrative. Really, he mostly wanted to see how much she tried to hide and justify things. The more of that there was, the less he wanted to trust her.

She didn't really whitewash things much, though. She'd been attacked, shot the assailant, then, when he dropped his weapon, picked it up and stabbed him to death with it. That sounded somewhat psychotic. She said he'd have killed her anyways. Maybe it was true. Maybe not. Did it even matter?

Then she turned it around, started coming after him. Ha. A valiant effort, but Lucas' conscience was completely clean. The worrisome bit was that she was getting awfully defensive. Pointing out her strategic advantages, trying to put him off guard. It all added up to one thing: she was looking for trouble. She was lying, planning to psych him out, confuse him, then, when his guard was down, kill him.

He was about to explain this to her in detail. About to make it crystal clear that he was on to her game. But then, out of absolutely nowhere, there was a guy behind him with a sword. A guy talking to both of them. Telling them to put their weapons down. Telling him to acquiesce first. No thank you. Not with a killer holding him up, and with a superior tactical position at that.

"Peter," he said. He knew the guy by sight, though couldn't recall that much about him. "Maybe you weren't paying attention earlier, but Ericka over there killed someone. I'll stand down as soon as she does.

"Oh, and Ericka, I found this gun next to a body. Someone who blew up yesterday. So, what do you say you put that gun away, I do the same, and we work this all out like civilized people?"

How he hoped she would listen. Doubted it, though. She didn't seem the type. This was gonna get nasty, and Peter was on the wrong side of the encounter. Lucas made sure his finger was on the trigger, made sure a twitch was all it would take to send bullets racing after his presumed foe. And, if Peter decided to cause trouble too? He had six shots. Three for each of them. No need to conserve ammo, since Ericka had a gun. Yes, if they were going to cause a problem, Lucas wouldn't let that stop him.

He had this under control.
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Peter sure was confident. Sure was playing the good guy here. Thing was, something was wrong. Lucas couldn't quite put his finger on it at first, but something was definitely off. Peter didn't seem afraid. He was moving forwards, even, getting closer. Maybe preparing to use that sword of his. Maybe he just didn't care if Lucas shot Ericka. Maybe that was what he was hoping would happen, two targets for the price of one. And there was someone else behind him now, too. That did nothing to make the situation safer. No, maybe Peter was just confident because he had backup. Heavily armed backup.

Six shots against two people? Doable. Six shots against three? That was stretching it, especially if he had to return fire in two directions at once. Lucas glanced at Ericka, and... was she moving? Was she really trying that? What the hell? Did nobody take Lucas' weapon seriously? Was he a giant joke, someone they thought was too stupid to actually pose a threat?

Well. He'd show them. He was pretty positive Ericka was playing, now. Pretty positive Peter was up to something, too. The only sensible thing to do was take them out. It would take some maneuvering, though. Take some intelligent actions. It would require them to be off guard, and that meant taking a little risk.

"I could've shot her earlier too," Lucas said to Peter. "And, really, why should we believe Danya? You ever think he might, you know, not quite be on the level?"

And then, Lucas lowered the gun. Kept it grasped in his hand, but took his finger off the trigger, pointed the front away from Ericka.

"That's as far as I'm willing to trust you two for the moment. She lowers her gun and stops whatever she's doing, then maybe we'll talk more."

There. If that directed Peter's attention away from Lucas and towards Ericka, maybe he wouldn't be on the ball. Maybe he'd even be distracted enough for Lucas to deal with Ericka and get clear. After all, he couldn't be entirely certain that the boy was planning something bad. And there was still that other girl back there, the one causing Lucas to second guess himself. It would be best to leave her alone, unless she tried to pull something.

Just a second. All he needed was that tiny opening.
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What a way to be proved right. Lucas would've laughed, would've jokingly rubbed Peter's face in the whole thing, had he not been so busy getting shot. Luckily, he only took a bad hit to the stomach, Peter's tackle forcing him out of the way of any other damage. Unluckily, he was pretty sure his wound wasn't merely something superficial.

He started to scream. It felt like he had swallowed a large, jagged rock, which had now lodged itself somewhere in his abdomen. Blood was gushing from somewhere in the vicinity of his navel. With his left hand, he tried to push it back in. No luck.

He'd been right. So right. That... that bitch. Shooting him. He was... no, he was not going to die. No way. He had to... had to pull through this, somehow. It came in a flash. His gun. Six shots. Divide by three people, no, wait, two people, Peter was clear, Peter was obviously on his side, Peter had probably saved him from instant death. That meant... six shots... two people. The girl behind them, was she an ally? Or an enemy? He just couldn't care, somehow. She was second priority, but would have to be neutralized, for both their safety.

All this had gone through his head in a few heartbeats after he hit the ground. Now, Lucas forced himself to his knees. It felt like his organs were tearing, and he screamed again, but forced himself through it, cradled the gun. Everything was blurry. He though he could see Ericka, though, still in the trees. That, or it was... no. Fire. Four shots. Dang, he'd lost count there. But, well, but, well, but two would be... enough, right? For the other girl?

"P-peter. Behind you... L-look out..." Lucas slurred, turning and firing there, too, not even aiming, not even looking to see if he was shooting in the right direction.
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((Getting this moving for announcement time))

It was going so well, except that Lucas was already a dead man, due to that stomach wound. Maybe he had been from the start, before he'd even lowered the gun. His plan had been so clear. Talk them down, then shoot Ericka as soon as everyone was distracted. Such a simple plan. Because he'd known she was a killer, and he'd been right. The only thing was, he hadn't known just how serious she was, how dangerous. Perhaps something in his demeanor had tipped her off. No matter.

Now all he had left to do was save Peter from the other psychopath. The world was fuzzy. He'd almost certainly missed. Was he out of ammunition? He thought he was. He'd just have to get his... his pointed stick thing, then. Get it and kill her and...

And there was Peter. He was alive still. Good. Lucas had at least kept him going this long. And Peter had a sword, so he could defend himself. And he was moving in close, to back Lucas up. And then he was slashing. The blade impacted Lucas' wrists with a crack. It cut a thin line across them, blood flowing from this new opening in his body. At least one was probably broken or chipped or whatever happened to wrists. Lucas screamed and dropped the gun, and then something had connected with his leg, sending him sprawling. He fell to the grass, hard. His head bounced off the dirt, and everything went black for a second. Focus slowly returned, a narrow band of color. Someone was standing over him. Someone was going to kill him. This was it. The end. And who was it?

Peter.

He'd been right. Lucas had been right about them all. They were all killers. All just searching for their opening. He'd been duped and reduped, and now he was going to die.

Pretty lame way to go, all things considered.
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Lucas just looked at Peter. Listened to his speech. Wondered how thing had gone wrong.

All his fault? No. No, it was all their fault. All Peter's fault. He'd been the one to escalate. He'd been the one to make Lucas disarm. But, no, it was Ericka's fault. She'd been the one to start shooting. But, no, really, it was that other girl's fault. She was the one who had made Lucas worry. It was because of her that Peter was freaking out. She was probably laughing away back there, ready to shoot him in the back the second this was all over.

Peter was talking about stopping murderers. What did that do, though? It was...

Lucas paused. His stomach throbbed, pain winding through his body. He was dying. He realized that. He was dying, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. And as he looked at Peter, everything became clear. The real blame in this situation rested solely at the feet of one individual: Danya. The fat, murdering sociopath who had stranded them here. Everything since their arrival, all the deaths, all the betrayals, all the insanity, it all sprung from him. Lucas hadn't been wrong to mistrust Ericka, but she hadn't been wrong to return the favor. And how could he blame her for shooting at him when he had been preparing to pull the same trick on her? In that moment, he was glad, so glad, that she had fired on him, because she had saved him from becoming a murderer. Saved him from being what Peter was accusing him of. The two people he'd shot at would be fine. He could delude himself enough to manage some certainty, though he hadn't even seen the results of his shots.

Did Peter know? Did he get that this whole thing was meaningless, that they were all going to die and it wasn't even anyone's fault? That killing didn't even matter, not anymore?

Maybe he did, because he brought the blade down.

The pain shook Lucas out of his momentary serenity. He tried to scream, but couldn't. There was too much blood. Too much pain.

He blacked out, and soon even the darkness faded.

B135 - Lucas Lupradio: DECEASED
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