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Topic Started: Nov 10 2010, 06:56 PM (4,510 Views)
Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Clio Gabriella continues from Caged In Like Animals))

He didn't die.

As Clio made her way up the hills that lead away, well away, from the cliffs behind her, she was still fuming over the latest announcement.

Clio Gabriella, killer of 4 people, threw Garry Villette, a freaking hockey player and fucking furry, off the top of a goddamn cliff, and he STILL didn't die?

It was simply one less name to her conscience now, this revelation of his survival. But what part of her conscience was truly relieved?

Not one bit. He was still alive.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't really understand how anyone could have survived such a fall. If he did manage to survive the fall, she doubted he would be living much longer. He was on the edge of the island, and any wrong move on his part would render him dead from either collar detonation, or shot by one of the many patrol boats surrounding their prison.

She couldn't think about how else he would make it out of there.

She didn't ponder anymore. She took everything he had, and threw the rest to Neptune. He was dead whether or not he even made it back to solid land. Someone like Garry would never survive.

Bruised.

Beaten.

A goner, in the simplest terms.

Being built like a bear wasn't going to help stop bullets.

The mansion, only recently cleared as a danger zone, sprawled in front of her. She knew that nobody was here, unless they could run really really fast or had a suicide wish the moment they heard Danya's snivelling voice. Clio had arrived there only minutes after the announcement. She'd even watched her collar stop beeping once she stepped into their boundaries. So she was going to be safe here, even if only for a little while.

Clenching her sword/spear and gun, she twisted open the old, antique doorknob, pushed the door open quickly with the tip of her spear, and walked in.

Creeeeak.

They never made that anymore, did they? That sound?

Clio examined the main hallway, and her fears were dismissed; she knew she was safe. Instead of doing her normal routine and checking the place out, she headed up the long staircase that graced her.

Steps.

Rooms.

A bedroom.

Without even batting a lash or taking a proper look inside, she threw her things on the floor to the side of the bed, and passed out on the blankets.
Edited by Brackie, Nov 28 2010, 07:03 AM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Maxwell Lombardi continued from Lean on Me))

If there was one thing Maxwell hated more then the ghastly island he was trapped on, one thing despised more then the imbeciles he had to contend with to survive, one thing he loathed more then that repugnant little cow... It was the fact that for the past few days he'd been reduced to sleeping in the wilderness like some kind of wild animal.

It wasn't just the cold that bothered him. Or the fact that sleeping against trees and rocks was insanely uncomfortable, or the fact that he was always left out in the open for some cretin to come along and slit his throat whilst he was asleep. It was the indignity of the act that bothered him the most. Maxwell was the kind of person who was used to sleeping on nothing less then the most exquisite and satisfyingly comfortable beds and mattresses which money could buy. In his own home, on his own terms, and for as long as he damn well liked. So the fact that he was now reduced to taking naps in the middle of some godforsaken forest was practically hell for the young man.

Hence the reason why the sight of a luxurious mansion almost brought tears of joy to him.

Well, luxurious was something of an overstatement. It looked old and decrepit, as if it had been abandoned for the past several years or so. But nevertheless, its was far more inviting then that dreadful cave he'd slept in the other day.

It had been almost 24 hours since he had left that ginger prick riddled with bullets back on the dirt path, and during that time Maxwell had done nothing but march in a generally south-eastern direction. He had stopped a couple of times, mainly to catch his breath and have a bite to eat. And before he even knew it, the sun had died down and he was beginning to feel tired once more.

So, like he'd been forced to do before, he slept under a tree. A tall oak tree to be exact. It wasn't quite as bad as some of the other naps he had taken, but the same lingering feeling of shame still pestered him to no end. He had the same dream from last night returning as well to make matters worse... Only this time, there was a sixth silhouette amongst the five that had originally been there. Not that Maxwell particularly cared... The pain from the injury inflicted on him by Simon was still his top concern at that moment in time.

The announcement woke him up as usual, informing him once again of the all the people who'd been slain the night before. He ignored it for the most part, listening out only for mentions of his name and the current danger-zones. As he noted down the names of all the killers and their respective kills, he was surprised to find that his own name happened to be the one with the highest "score" so to speak. He wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that realisation... On the one hand, being the "top killer" made him feel somewhat special and significant, like he was really making an impact in this game. On the other hand, this also meant that he'd be the top priority for all the "heroic" players who only targeted killers. Hell, he'd be the No1 target for all the regular killers too for that matter. Half the island out there was probably swearing bloody vengeance against him for killing their friends right at that very moment... And Maxwell would be ready for every single one of them.

After a brief breakfast, he headed southward once more, and continued walking through the endless sea of trees until they abruptly stopped. And there, standing tall as if it was the last reminder of civilisation left on the island, was a mansion fit for a king. Or, at the very least, a wealthy celebrity.

Finally! Now THIS is more like it! I could use a break... And a nice bed, a roof over my head, and maybe even an intact wine cellar is just what I need right now!

The thought that other people might have the same idea did cross his mind at that moment... Albeit briefly. At that very moment, he was far too relieved by his discovery to think too deeply about that possibility, so he brushed the thought aside for now. All he cared about at that very moment was the fact that for the first time in four days he'd stumbled across a decent place to take refuge within. And nothing was going to stop that... Not a single damn thing.

Well, no point in standing around gawping like an idiot...

And on that note, the young Brit began to make his way through the tall gate which was left open ajar entered through the front door into a large foyer. It was at that point as he stood there on top of an old and dusty carpet that he realised just how abandoned this place really was. The walls and floor was covered in a thin layer of dust, and there were cobwebs littered about the place in a haphazard fashion. But apart from that, it was quite homely compared to the shack he'd started out in. It was more then enough to satisfy Maxwell anyway...

First things first, find a bathroom so I can wash all this blood off...

He walked through an opening to his left, passing through the corridor with a confident stride about him. There were some subtle signs of people having already been here before, such as footprints and a recently made hole in the ceiling. But Maxwell wasn't worried. After all, according to the announcement this place had been a dangerzone for the past 24 hours, so the chances of running into people were substantially small. Nevertheless, the building had an eerie familiarity about it. It reminded Maxwell of the time he went to visit his uncle Henry, who lived in a huge mansion not unlike this very one in the countryside back in Britain. He remembered fondly the memories of what it was like to run around through the corridors as a child, pretending to chase away ghosts and goblins with a handheld vacuum cleaner he found whilst rummaging through some cupboards. The nostalgic memory briefly brought a smile to his blood-stained face, only to then fade away again when he remembered where he was. Stuck in the middle of an island far away from home with nothing to comfort him except a TEC-9 submachinegun and a pair of pistols. All the more reason for me to get off this damned rock as soon as possible...

He eventually found what he was searching for... Namely a bathroom wherein he could wash the wound he'd received from that ginger-haired bastard. He looked at himself in the mirror, expecting to see his entire face all messed up and distorted beyond belief. As it turned out though, it wasn't QUITE as bad as he'd first assumed. There was a small graze mark on his right cheek where the bullet had whizzed past his face, which was made to look worse then it actually was by the amount of blood that had poured from the injury. Although, sure enough, his earlobe was indeed gone. He could see in the mirror where the bullet had grazed past his cheek and underneath his ear, taking his earlobe with him.

Sighing to himself, Maxwell then went about the task of washing off all the blood that had stained his hands and face. Unsurprisingly, the taps weren't working. So he was forced to use up some of the water he had gathered from his various victims in order to wash it off. The blood had all but dried out by this point, so the task proved easier then he'd first suspected. He also got the opportunity to grab a bar of soap from his bag to use as well in order to get the smell of blood off of him. Eventually, he finally managed to wash off all the blood from his face and hands, drying himself on a spare towel as he stared at himself in the mirror for a while longer.

Whilst his face was more or less clean, the injury he had received from Simon stuck out like a sore thumb. It was at that moment that Maxwell fully realised just how permanent this injury really was. It wasn't like a scratch that would heal over time. This was a scar, a constant reminded of what it was like for him on the island... But in a way, Maxwell didn't regret it. This scar would serve as a reminder of what could happen if he was to start getting cocky again. Serve as a lesson for him being so careless... Besides, one little scar was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon several people for the past few days. Nearly everyone who had ever dared to cross him was now either scared out of their wits or lying face down in the dirt. He'd cut through the competition like butter, taken down almost every opponent who had the balls to stand up to him. He was the top killer on the island. He was the one who was going to win this damned game. So sure he had a little, insignificant and unhindering scar to remind him not to be an idiot. At least he wasn't dead, which considering what he'd been through so far was an achievement worth being proud of.

Now then... I wonder if there's a decent bed around here? I'm feeling knackered...

After leaving the bathroom, he spent the next couple of minutes or so looking long and hard for a decent bedroom to take refuge in. It took a while, but after checking the doors of a study and two broom closets, he eventually found a door which he was sure belonged to a bedroom of SOME description. There better be a damn bed in here...

So, on that note, he opened the door and looked inside.
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
-to find Clio Gabriella, gun in left hand, sai in right, held right at the brit's throat.

*

Almost five minutes ago, she heard the door to the mansion open again after she closed it tight behind her. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but it was a long time, she was sure of that. Thankfully, no one that looked like her, or even resembling her victims, was haunting her dreams to the point of driving her insane. She could be thankful that once she got off here, she wasn't going to be haunted by guilt or anything like that. She'd already crossed that line long ago.

As the door creaked, she jolted awake with a start. She realised that leaving all her stuff in the corner, away from her for so long, was plain idiotic. She'd listened to the announcements. Clio was, according to Danya, tying second for the top killer on the island. The psychotic lesbian ice skater had since died down with her killings, but another person she hadn't expected had skyrocketed to the top: Maxwell Lombardi. She remembered him actually arriving at Bayview, seeing him at Prom, and occasionally around the hall. He had an air of smugness around him that was too pompous to ignore.

Well, it seemed like England had produced some cracker results for this game, since he'd killed about 5 people at that point.

Clio's pondering was interrupted by footsteps. Sneaking silently off the bed, she found a crack in the bedroom wall, looking straight out into the hallway. Tightening her lips, she spied. Someone was there. Someone familiar was now occupying her space. She couldn't see his face, but the fact remained that if Clio wanted to remain alone, she had to make a good choice here. Wait. See what he does. Make sure that you remain unseen.

The boy passed her in the hall, and yet from her point of view, the crack obscured his face. She couldn't recognize him at all.

Thankfully, he passed by the door.

And in the next few minutes he'd taken in a nearby bathroom to do whatever a growing young boy like himself needed to do, Clio had prepared herself for the worst possible outcome.

Walther PPK: Reloaded.

Sai: wiped down.

Sword/Spear: found out the right way to hold it...of course that one failed, so it was now behind the door.

As she heard him come down the hallway, she took a humungous bite from one of her new gains, a loaf of bread. It wasn't as stale as hers, since it had probably not worked up the miles that her own bread had, but at least it wasn't moulding. Most of the people who stuck around the ocean for long whiles probably had mould in their bread anyway, what with the moisture building up inside and all that jazz.

Each door was checked. When the guy in the hallway approached hers, she raised her gun and sai to the newcomer.

*

...huh.

It was Maxwell Lombardi.

It was only a matter of time until she started running into fellow killers, she supposed. But it had to be such a big coincidence that she run into the top killer on the island right now. 5 deaths to his name, and maybe one or two more she didn't know about.

Clio knew it would be such a waste to kill him right now, seeing as he'd already done people like her such a big favour.

So instead, she spoke, keeping a focus on how she needed to speak and act. No blast-outs this time.

"Hello Maxwell. I hear you've been busy," Clio started, before chuckling "Don't worry, I have too."
Edited by Brackie, Nov 25 2010, 03:04 PM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
...Jesus Christ!

It was at that moment, as Maxwell stood face to face with a girl wielding a gun in her left hand and a sai in her right, that he realised just how careless he'd been. He'd been so relieved by the discovery of the mansion that he hadn't prepared himself for the possibility that someone might of already gotten there first. And sure enough, that's exactly what had happened...

And this wasn't just any girl he'd bumped into. Back at Bayview, before any of this Survival of the Fittest business, he hadn't gone out of his way to learn the names of any of his fellow classmates. That being said, as he sat alone in the lunch hall helping himself to the expensive pack lunches he would prepare for himself in the morning, he couldn't help but overhear the gossip of his fellow students. And from this gossip, he was occasionally hear certain names being repeated over and over. Most of the time he would simply ignore such petty gossip, but nevertheless he always made sure to keep note whenever he overheard conversations about the more attractive and promiscuous girls at Bayview. Girls such as the apparently well-endowed Charlene Norris, or the Italian flame Rosa Fiametta... Or a certain femme fatal with purple streaks in her hair by the name of Clio Gabriella. The same Clio Gabriella whose name was mentioned at least three times in the previous announcements as being one of the top killers on the island.

And sure enough, the well-armed yet VERY beautiful girl before him had purple streaks in her hair.

Almost immediately after realising this, Maxwell jumped back a foot or so and lifted up his own gun, aiming it directly at the girl's face as she aimed her own gun at his. Great... Just fucking perfect. And here I was thinking that I might be able to take a break from all this ridiculousness only to find myself in a bloody Mexican standoff with the most stunning psychopath i've ever laid eyes on...

...Well, now what? Are we just supposed to stand here and wait like a bunch of morons or...




"Hello Maxwell. I hear you've been busy,"


He raised an eyebrow.


"Don't worry, I have too."



This... Was unexpected. Sure, engaging in polite conversation was a much better alternative to shooting each other in the face, but the amount of respect he was receiving was more then a little surprising for the young Brit who had just gotten used to be the subject of bitter scorn for the past few days... Not to mention it was very refreshing to be able to speak to somebody who a complete and total prick for once.

Well, go on. Say something!

"So i've heard... Clio, is it? I don't believe we've had the pleasure of introducing ourselves." he replied, using his charming British accent to his advantage as best as he could. If there was one thing Maxwell took pride in above everything else, it would have had to be his way with words. More then a couple of attractive women had fallen prey to his charming voice and demeanor in the past, especially in America where his accent was seen as being exotic rather then upper class. And Maxwell just loved taking advantage of the "Handsome Englishman" stereotype that he'd all but mastered over the years.

Of course, whether or not he really was that charming or good with words was up to personal opinion. There had been several girls in the past who found his advances to be more lecherous and misogynistic then they were elegant or captivating. And whilst Maxwell didn't deny for a second that he was something of a misogynist (At least, he didn't privately deny it), he simply brushed off these rejections as being philistines who can't tell true charm when they see it.

Anyway... Seeing as she's not about to try and gun me down any time soon, perhaps I can try to calm the situation down a little. I could do with a civilised conversation that doesn't end with bloodshed for once...

"I... Don't suppose you're up for the idea of a truce, are you? I'd rather we didn't have to continue this conversation whilst aiming firearms at each other..."
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Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Oh how the guy could talk. It wasn't just his voice, or his accent, but it was the way he had with the words that blurted out of his mouth that seemed like it really could belong to a mass murderer on an island full of school children. Of course, she wasn't really paying attention to his sleazy attempt at undermining her ability to make her own decisions, but more of the fact that he seemed to be missing part of his ear.

Making a slightly slant-mouthed expression, like a blonde girl in a perpetually deep thought, she tilted her head slightly and tried to see whether or now it was simply damaged or just blending into the pale wall behind the boy...somehow, despite the fact that the wall behind him was a ghastly shade of khaki brown, thus taking a lot of effort for him to accomplish such a thing. No, his earlobe was indeed gone. She smirked a bit, considering herself lucky that the island had simply rapidly eroded away at her looks, her hair, and her slight amount of make-up rather than her own body.

But of course, there was the ever more pressing matter to attend to at the moment, and the wonderous fact was that the boy wasn't going to kill her. Clio really sympathised with the killer in front of him, really. Being number one at anything, even in such a blood sport that they competed in now, meant that targets never knew more fitting places than on one's back, especially a back so well-fitted as Maxwell freaking Lombardi's.

And it seemed as though his state of mind agreed with her. He proposed a truce. A wave of relief washing Clio down like a gale, she slowly lowered her two weapons in synchronization with the man in front of her.

"You know, as much as I'd like to shoot you right now, I can certainly say that it might do me some good to not be the most wanted female killer on the island to someone I share a room with. So...sure then, Maxwell, a truce it is."

It now came down to the important decision of where the hell she was going to put her gun now. Her sai lay rested in her hand, loose enough to not be a threat but tight enough to not get yanked out unexpectedly, while her gun hung awkwardly at Clio's side.

She would figure it out later. Who cared about that at the moment that she finally earned herself a temporary ally?

"Now, since we both seem to know each other already, even if only briefly, I agree when you say we need some introductions," Clio said with a smug air, trying to almost imitate the man who stood in front of her. Instead of laughing like she wanted to, she kept a little satisfied grin on her face, piled the Sai into her gun hand, and held it out in front of her.

"Clio Gabriella. I suppose I'm the top girl around these parts. Unless that bull dyke's offed someone I don't know about."
Edited by Brackie, Nov 26 2010, 06:54 AM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
Maxwell had half-expected Clio to deny his offer at first. After all, in hindsight he realised that flatly asking for a ceasefire was perhaps a bit TOO forward of him... He even went as far as considering a list of arguments in his head for why it wouldn't be a good idea for them to exacerbate things any further.

But thankfully, Clio seemed to have the same idea. Perhaps he wasn't the only smart person on the island after all... Although, her brutal honesty did surprise him a little. Not that he could really blame her. Part of him wanted to pull the trigger the second she dropped her guard and get it all over with. One less competition for his ride out of here... And yet, there was something about the girl standing in front of him that made the very idea seem abhorrent at that moment in time. Probably something to do with the fact that she was ironically the first person he'd come across in a while who was neither rude, ignorant or trying to kill him.

They both lowered their weapons in near unison, the young Brit taking the opportunity to adjust his tie as he did so. Now that they had established something of a temporary truce between them, Maxwell couldn't help but take the opportunity to briefly check out the apparent top female killer who stood before him. It was just a brief glance, barely even noticeable, but it was enough for Maxwell to tell that Clio had to be one of the most gorgeous women he had ever come across. Far more beautiful then that comparatively plain Osborne girl... She had a thin, almost ethereal look about her. Not exactly the most impressive bust he'd ever seen, but who was he to complain. But most of all, it was her eyes that drew his attention the most... One hazel, and one green. He'd heard about people with different coloured eyes in the past (Hetrochromia or something like that?) but never had he ever expected to actually bump into somebody with the condition. He suspected that the chances of coming across someone with differentiating eyes on the island had to be quite phenomenal.

"Now, since we both seem to know each other already, even if only briefly, I agree when you say we need some introductions,"

The girl before him smiled, raising her hand and offering to shake Maxwell's. An offer he couldn't help but accept with an equally satisfied grin, placing his gun into his left hand as he extended his right to shake Clio's like a true gentleman.

"Clio Gabriella. I suppose I'm the top girl around these parts. Unless that bull dyke's offed someone I don't know about."

"Maxwell Lombardi, at your service... And I have to say, its been both an honour AND a pleasure to finally meet the top girl herself in the flesh..." he replied, chuckling inwardly to himself when she referred to Reiko as being a bulldyke. There was something comforting in the fact that he wasn't the only person on the island who detested the pint-sized bitch.

"May I?" he then added, gesturing to Clio that he'd like to enter the room. After acknowledging her agreement, the young Brit wasted no time in entering the reasonably sized bedroom. It reminded him a lot of one of the many guest rooms Uncle Henry had in his own mansion that he reserved for visitors such as relatives and close friends. It had all the basic essentials more or less intact: A chest of drawers, a dusty mirror, a broken old clock, a wide cupboard, a private bathroom and of course a comfy double bed to finish it all off.

"Well, I've got to admit, I admire your taste in comfort. A little dust and cobweb or two aside, this room seems fit for a king... Well, okay, maybe not a king per se. But you get the idea..." he said as he circled the room, stopping by the chest of drawers to place his TEC-9 on top of it. All the while, he kept his eyes on Clio. Whilst the two of them had agreed to a truce, the fact remained that they were still in the middle of a game which only allowed for one winner. Sooner or later, they were going to be forced against each other. And as much as Maxwell didn't want to start killing again so soon, he still had to be cautious around this girl. She didn't score four kills by being an innocent airhead after all...

Nevertheless, he did well to mask his caution as he spoke to her. He couldn't let on that he had suspicions about her after all...

"So, i'm curious... At what point did you realise that escape wasn't a viable option?" he asked, genuinely interested as to what led her to start playing. She started long before him, that was obvious. But he was curious as to what excuses other people hide behind because they were too afraid to admit that all they really want is to get off this damn island alive.
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Oh, and the guy was apparently very polite as well, what with the most elegant way of introducing yourself formally to someone being thrust upon her. Of course, she had adjusted herself to be used to such overwhelmingly out-of-place demeanour, and as such she didn't do the usual thing she suspect most girls would do upon coming across someone so polite, such as heavy breathing, fanning oneself with the hand, all that formal bullshit that she saw people do in movies after meeting someone so handsome and well-mannered.

She welcomed him into her temporary sanctuary, and now that she got a good look at it, the sunlight from the hall finally creeping inside, she could see that the room wasn't half bad, compared to the rest of the house. The boy put some kind of large machine gun on the chest of drawers besides the bed. Clio smiled briefly, realising that he did have to be fairly loaded if he were to rack up such an impressive kill count. 5 people, wasn't it? Well, he probably had a lot more than she did. Clio started to feel a bit inadequate with just a gun on her. The sai and giant sword stacked behind the door wasn't going to provide much protection in the long run, after all.

"So, i'm curious... At what point did you realise that escape wasn't a viable option?" the boy asked her. Clio had to truly smile this time, and let off a small laugh.

"Escape? I didn't think that was an option. I've been watching this show since I was 15, and in all that time, I've never seen a successful escape attempt. You're not American, right? I dunno if you've seen it before, but no one's ever escaped SOTF without cutting down a massive amount of people in between. Adam Dodd? 12 people. Calvert? 10 people. JR Rizzolo, the kid that we saw on that clip from last seaons? 11 people. Sure, there was that whole escape thing last time, some kids managed to get the collars off, but...come on. That was a year ago. The SOTF system is like a spider web. Whenever a part is weakened, the spider makes sure that when it makes the new web, that the weakened part is stronger and more durable than before."

Clio, after finishing her little impromptu speech, closed the bedrooom door behind her. It was well into the day now, and as such a lot brighter than when she first arrived, allowing the occupants of the room to see the rather large Chinese halberd laid agains the wall.

"To answer your question, escape's never been an option, right from the moment I woke up. I don't know if you can tell, but there's a difference between us and the ordinary people out there, apart from the amount of people we've killed. There's people out there, people who've actually spent their whole life at Bayview, who are trying to play, and they're gonna crash the hardest. They have friends to lose, they have more enemies than friends, more often than not, and at one point, it's gonna bite them. People like us," Clio pointed at her chest with the loosely held Sai, and then at Maxwell, letting the point linger for a few moments "The loners, the people with a lot of demons to hide, the newly arrived at our school with no such friends to think about, we've got the best advantage over them in that we only loose ourselves, and nothing more, to the game. None of that moping about friends bullcrap, no mourning over lost loves, nothing. We apply," Clio held the sai in front of her throat, and moved it through the air in a cutting motion "And we execute."

Clio stood there solemly for about 5 seconds, and then started to giggle.

"How was that? If I get back home, I'm gonna go into acting, it's a lot easier than science studies."
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
Maxwell was beginning to like this girl.

Barely seconds after he'd made his little inquiry, Clio began to go on about how she used to watch SOTF when she was 15. And that every time, the winner had always been someone who cut through the competition like a hot knife through butter. Admittedly, Maxwell didn't know that much about the previous games. He had always half-assumed that it was all staged like in Professional Wrestling and The X Factor... It wasn't until he found himself partaking in one these supposedly fake games that the bitter truth dawned upon him.

As Clio closed the door behind her, the young Brit couldn't help but note the large halberd that lay against the wall. Obviously the spoils from some encounter with one of the more well-armed students... He briefly considered the possibility of stealing it when the time came that they would have to go their separate ways, but shot down the idea when he realised how awkward it would be to carry both a halberd AND a machinegun around the island. Besides, he had more then enough tools to remove the competition anyway...

She then went on about how she had decided to play barely seconds into the game, and that it was people like her and Maxwell who had the advantage because they weren't slowed down by their friends and relatives. That people like them had no one who would act as a moral anchor weighing them down and stopping them from playing the game wholeheartedly without a hint of remorse. Which, in Maxwell's case, was partially true. The idea of being forced to gun down his former colleagues and lovers back home in England was a disheartening prospect for the young Brit... And yet, he was absolutely certain that if push came to shove, he would play on regardless of whatever ties he once had. Because when it really came down to it, only one life mattered to Maxwell... His own. And he would slay his own flesh and blood in an instant if it meant he could get off this damned rock alive and well.

Still, he couldn't help but respect this girl's philosophy when it came down to the game. No doubt. No worries. No regrets... It was like a match made in heaven.

After she had finished her monologue, there was a brief pause wherein she let out a giggle which Maxwell couldn't help but find especially cute. A little deranged, maybe, but cute nevertheless.

"How was that? If I get back home, I'm gonna go into acting, it's a lot easier than science studies."

He chuckled inwardly to himself. Yes... IF you get back home indeed......

"I'm sure you'd be an absolute bombshell." he said with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, from the sound of things, you certainly didn't faff around as much as I did the second I woke up. It all seems so silly now that I think back on it... I'd actually gotten it into my head that if I was to play along, it would make me a pathetic sheep who only does as he's told. Its a ridiculous philosophy, I know. I mean, what's so sheepish about wanting to stay ALIVE of all things? In all honesty, I highly suspect I was more scared if anything... Not of dying, of course. But of taking away another man's life. That the sheer emotional strain of such an apparently awful act would cause me to break down out of guilt or something pathetic like that..."

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the very idea of being so weak minded.

"...Of course, once I was forced to defend myself against some punk who got it into himself to try and mug ME of all people, I quickly figured out that killing people wasn't so hard after all... And to think, I actually assumed that I could try to signal a boat or something stupid like that!"

Naturally, he made sure to not mention the fact that he could have easily spared Augustus back at that beach... Wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea or anything, after all.

"After that, the rest is pretty much history... Apart from bumping into that pint-sized Japanese bitch Reiko now and again, what you've heard on the announcements is pretty much what i've been doing for the past few days... That, and this one ginger bastard who managed to clip my ear, as you've probably noticed..."

He felt the spot where his earlobe once was, the injury still stinging him to no end.

"Still, a small price to pay for survival. No?"
Edited by Fiori, Nov 28 2010, 07:11 AM.
V5 Characters

Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
Jenna Rhodes - Hotel

Deceased V4 Characters
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The handsome british guy...no, man...in front of him seemed to know how to really work her, didn't he? Maxwell, just befoe regailing her with his story, actually complimented her on her looks. Clio realised, almost briefly, that this would probably be the last time someone actually did that. She knew she had a real fighting chance to get off this island, but it was nice for someone to actually pay attention to the littlest things, such as her looks.

The story of Maxwell's was also interesting. He'd taken a lot longer to "turn", as the saying would go, and almost got himself killed by it. He did seem like the perfect candidate for such a crime, what with his bow tie; people often assumed that people who could afford such luxuries, even people like that fatass Everett who died on the first day.

So apparently, he'd been on a little rampage of death for the last few days. 5 people to his name, with an ever increasing amount each day, meant that technically she was taking him away from his work. Clio smiled, both at his words and at the thought of such an action they were commiting, and maybe still commiting, being reduced to something so meaningless as a chore.

And it also appeared that Clio had good reason to notice something wrong with his ear, since apparently some ginger kid (hehehe, ginger, she loved that word) tried to off him as well.

A small price to pay for survival?

She couldn't agree more.

Clio had to smile again, and approached the competition in front of her.

"I haven't had the...experience that you've had with battle, or at least not the damage to show, but..." Clio started, before pulling back her lower gum. On the right of her right canine was a gap, where her tooth used to reside a few days ago.

"Ivan Kuznetsov."

She held back her neck, to reveal several red rings, almost radiating. Pointing to each individual one, she accompanied them with a name.

"Teo Weinstock. Garry Villette. I got to toss the last one off a cliff though, that was some consulation."

Turning around, she pulled up the back of her shirt to show the pressure marks, one or two deep cuts accompanying it, from all the way back on the first day.

"Brendan Wallace. I suppose it doesn't quite reach the extent that yours does, but that's how many people are out for my blood now, plus everyone they know as well. I have been very lucky in that I've been able to choose the people who never stood a chance in the first place. Chris, that bible kid. Petrushka, the violinist. Charles, that athiestic denier of everything. Luke, the introverse. I thought I'd actually killed Garry, the hockey player built like a fucking tank, but...somehow, he survived."

...it was a while before she realised that she'd been holding her shirt up to him for the entire while she'd been ranting. Slightly flustered over the fact she was giving him a free show (and it didn't seem like he had any intention of returning the favour, a shame really...), she pulled it back down and sat down on the bed.

"I suppose that one day, we'll be interesting filler for-"

Clio pointed at one of the camera's in the corner of the room with the sai, still handled loosely in her hand as she shoved the recently deposed of gun in the strap of her skirt-

"-some psychology major at Harvard in a few years time. Cause remember, we're basically famous now. You've killed more people than more of the craziest people in SOTF history. Blood Boy, Damien Carter-Madison, Cillian Crowe. You've killed more people than any of those guys, and people who watch this are going to want to know why. And me too, remember? You haven't seen what I've done. Two days ago, I held my gun to my own head. Three days ago I tried to stop. Four days ago I said I was going to play, and one day ago I remembered that."

During this, she'd gotten off the bed again, and started pacing across the room. She hardly even realised that, and promptly stopped and turned away again.

"I don't even know why that came to mind, really. I suppose being stuck in this place without food for a while really makes you think about stuff, right?"

Like the fact that if you were to kill this guy now, you would then be the top killer on this rock, without anyone to stand in your way.

But I'm not, so shut up.
Edited by Brackie, Nov 29 2010, 06:43 AM.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Shake&Bake
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Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
((Haruka Watanabe continued from Fountain of Youth))

Haruka Watanabe gently pulled the kitchen door to a close, being extra slow and gentle in an attempt to silence the rusty creaking. For a good thirty seconds she stood there, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she tried her best to stay silent. She didn’t know if she was alone. She hoped that she was alone. A huge house like this, almost a stately hotel, could surely hide a dozen or so of her classmates. It was one of those buildings that if you were careful, you probably wouldn’t bump into the other occupants for an entire weekend. On the off chance she may still be alone, surrounded only by dust bunnies and spiders, mice scratching at the walls.

She finally pulled the door shut with a small thud, dust was still settling from when she had opened it. The glass pane had a dirty yellow tinge, black build up of condensation around the edges giving off a musty, earthy smell. The kitchen door, painted in peeling blue paint, led out onto a small patio with large, ceramic pots, the plants inside long withered and dead. In this part of the house, in the west wing, rot, moisture and the weather seemed to have claimed ownership. From outside she could see sections of the roof missing, slates had fallen off in places revealing the damp wood beneath. Near the edge of the wreckage jagged beams jutted out like teeth from the mouth of some beast. The attic floor sagging inwards, waiting to collapse.

Perhaps there had been a fire, a clash of lightning or maybe even an explosion of some kind. Either way, the stately home had been opened crudely, like some sort of macabre dollhouse, letting the island seep in. Haruka hugged herself tightly as she stepped forwards into the kitchen, her Mary-Janes falling silently against the grimy checkerboard tiles. The mansion was some haunted house attraction in a funfair, or even a sprawling theme park. It had all the conventions, dead withered plants, cracked window panes, shutters falling from the walls, sagging plaster ceilings, dirty yellow glass, that old, dusty smell, not of historic places but of death and decay. But then again, a mansion was only a mansion, regardless of how it looked. An empty mansion was even better.

Maybe as she explored deeper into the bowels of the house, she’d see the oil based paintings with eyes, following her around the room, or the china doll with a cracked face and a dress with yellow lace, moving in the corner of her vision. All the small things she had been scared of outside, the things she wasn’t even aware that did scare her, until she was isolated. Alone, with the possibility of death clinging to her like a shadow. And yet, the timid girl saw past the damp, peeling wallpaper, faceless, cracked busts and wispy cobwebs in the corners. The mansion seemed safe, at least, if not horrifically eerie and with a sickening smell, in the west wing at least.

Maybe somewhere, in the sprawling mansion, she could find a little room with a view. A room with its own bathroom, even if the plumbing was out, and maybe a walk-in-closet. A closet, that’s what she needed, a narrow space to crawl in and make a nest, like a hamster. So what if it smelled of mothballs and was dusty? On the bed she was exposed, she could take the sheets, at least. It would be like hide-or-go-seek, the perfecting place for the likes of Haruka to curl up and hide. She was sick and tired of trying to be different, trying to be brave. It hadn’t gotten her far. All the people she had seen either looked as if they had waltzed right off the battlefield or got attacked sooner or later. It wasn’t safe for her out there. It wasn’t safe for anyone.

So let the others fool themselves with ideas of vocations and missions, trying to get back at Danya or trying to get home. So what? Haruka Watanabe wasn’t going to kill anyone, she had no means anyway, and she certainly wasn’t going to get killed. She’d be invisible, unreachable, sneaking out when it was safe and taking what she needed. The rodent approach to things wasn’t so bad, and she was amazed that she had chastised herself for behaving that way earlier. The mines, the woods, the fountain…She had tried to be brave, really she had but then something always pushed her over the edge. A scary girl with blood on her face. The fleeting paranoia and confusion. The new arrival of two violent characters. Craig…Craig O’Hoyle, dead and gone. And for what? Nothing.

His last words…Trent…She had meant to follow him and others, really she did, she tried to catch up with them for a while, but what was to say they wouldn’t run into hostiles again? Trent was unconscious, she was unarmed and the other two…They wouldn’t have stood a chance, they were probably better without her anyway. She simply stopped running and watched them disappear off into the distance, probably thinking she was still close behind. She went down past the fountain again, catching sight of another corpse next to Craig’s, she didn’t need to investigate. She was glad that she had tagged along with the boys, if not for just under five minutes.

Eventually, as she was staggering over grassy slopes, watching her feet with tired eyes to make sure she didn’t trip over, she found herself staggering onto gravel. She lifted her head and squinted at the bulking silhouette of the mansion, stood against the early evening sky. Bells rang inside her, warning her of possible danger, but there were also many positives. Maybe such a huge place hadn’t been cleaned out, maybe there was food or even water. She’d squandered her last bottle, and any urine she had passed since that had been a dark brown. There was that tickle in the back of her throat she couldn’t seem to get rid of, and she knew she was succumbing to dehydration.

Standing in the centre of the dusty kitchen, Haruka knew that she had to check out her surroundings before she began rummaging around for refreshments. Making sure her footfalls remained as quiet as possible, Haruka headed over towards the large wooden table in the centre of the kitchen and shrugged off her survival pack, before nudging it underneath, out of view. There was nothing lying around that she could utilise as a weapon, not that she’d use it, she knew she couldn’t, but she’d just feel safer with something in her hand. Something she could swing around blindly if someone else happened to be lurking nearby. Her eyes went to the large wooden dresser, displayed on which were china plates, saucers and teacups. Most of which were cracked, some broken.

One shelf displayed a row of china plates, white with cobalt blue detailing. There were willow trees and a large stately home on each plate, two birds flying together at the top representing the two lovers who had died. Her mother had plates like these at home, but she had gotten them off of the internet. She would have loved these. One of the plates was shattered into tiny shards, the second was broken into several large jagged parts. Haruka took a dusty serviette and wrapped it around the square edge of one particularly long and sharp shard, and wielded it almost as if it were a dagger, or at least how Mrs. Peacock held it on the cover of the Clue board game.

Haruka was probably alone, but she had to be sure, and like that, she ventured further into the mansion.
COOK 'N' KILL
........RECIPES........
x 1 oz. Rat PoiSon
x 1/2 oz. Meta-cyanide
x 1/2 oz. Fex-M3
x 1 cup Tiberium

Shake and Stir
GOOD LUCK!


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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
As Maxwell listened instensly to Clio as she listed out the names of those who had crossed her in the past few days, he made a mental note of each and every of them just in case.

The first, and arguably the most interesting, was an assumably Russian chap by the name of Ivan Kuznetsov who'd apparently knocked one of ther teeth out. He remembered hearing the name during the first announcement... Winner of the first Best Kill Award if Maxwell remembered correctly. There was something about the name that caused Maxwell to picture a tall bull of a man with a deep Russian accent and arms ar thick as oak trees. Whilst that may or may not be the case, the fact still remained that this Ivan fellow was worth watching out for...

The other names didn't particuarlly grab his interest in the same way... Although, the young Brit raised an eyebrow when Clio lifted her shirt to show off the marks inflicted upon her by some brute by the name of Brendan Wallace. As painful as the marks looked, Maxwell couldn't help but be admire Clio's distinct curviness rather then pay attention to what she was actually saying... At least, until she pulled it back down and sat on the bed. Oh well, it was fun whilst it lasted...

She then began to go on about how the two of them would make an interesting Psychology case for university students, a prospect which Maxwell wasn't entirely comfortable with. The last thing he wanted to be remembered for was as some kind of lunatic to be debated over by pretentious psychologists and philosophers. That for one would suggest that he was actually mad, which as far as Maxwell was aware was far from the case. Unless being practical was suddenly considered to be a mental illness or something... Sure, i'm SLIGHTLY harsh from time to time, but hey. I'm allowed to have a little fun aren't I?

That being said, his reaction to learning that he'd scored more kills then three of the more infamous killers in SOTF history was more... Mixed. On the one hand, he wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of being compared to a trio of complete nutcases. On the other hand, she did have a point about becoming famous because of what he'd done. After everything he had heard about this "Blood Boy", from his vicious rampages to the unique and disturbing ways he decimated his opponents, hearing that he'd scored more kills than him was oddly satisfying. As if he'd actually achieved something not many people could claim to have done. Clio was right, even if he was to die tomorrow he'd still be remembered as one of the most prolific killers in the early stages of the game. For all the people out there watching this nonsense who'd be demanding his death, there would be an equal amount of people cheering him on. He'd heard of SOTF fanboys before, and how they go around arguing as to who would win in a fight between Jacob Starr and Bryan Calvert amongst other rubbish. And seeing as he was now the No1 killer on the island, he could only guess as to how many of these insipid freaks were cheering him on at that very moment...

A smile crept upon the man's handsome face as the realisation dawned upon that, even if by some unpredictable mishap he was to die on this rock, he'd always be remembered as one of the most dangerous men to ever partake in SOTF. His name would forever be listed amongst all the most famous players as the man who single-handedly cut through the competition in V4 like a hot knife through butter, even if it was just during the early stages of the game.

Of course, he had absolutely zero intention of dying here of all places. But the thought that he'd be remembered either way was comforting at the very least...

Clio was pacing around the room by that point, reminiscing the time she considered committing suicide. She certainly seemed to be more mentally unstable then Maxwell had first assumed... Then again, suicide for Maxwell was an incredibly stupid, pointless AND cowardly way to die. Anyone who'd ever chosen to sacrifice their own life, even if it was in order to save someone else's, was a complete idiot in Maxwell's eyes who probably deserved to die anyway if they didn't care about their life that much in the first place.

"I don't even know why that came to mind, really. I suppose being stuck in this place without food for a while really makes you think about stuff, right?"

"Well, I think we can both agree that you made the right decision when you to decided to not pull the trigger..." he said with a smile on his face, genuinely glad that she hadn't made such a wasteful decision so early in the game. "Not sure if i'm exactly fond of the idea of being 'filler' for some pretentious Psychology students though... Then again, I suppose there are worse ways to be remembered out there." he joked, lightly chuckling.

"Got to admit though, I can't really claim to have tackled with as many people who're still alive out there. Probably on some personal quest to seek vengeance upon me or something cliché like that... As I mentioned earlier, I've bumped into that minx Reiko quite a couple of times. Then there was this slight incident I had with some prick by the name of Nick Reid after he nearly burnt me alive with a bloody cocktail of all things. Gave him quite a beating for that. God, what i'd do in order to get my hand on that insolent bastard and finish the job... But anyway, they're the only two whose names I remember. Theres this other chap who got away was well, some paki...stani-looking guy with a shotgun whose name I never got the chance to learn."

He yawned briefly, wiping some sleep from his eyes as he sat himself down on the bed. Feeling a soft blanket beneath him rather then a wet patch of grass or a cold slab of stone was more then a little comforting for the youn"g Brit.

"So, you haven't had anything to eat in a while? I've got a spare loaf or two in my pack if you want one..."
V5 Characters

Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
Jenna Rhodes - Hotel

Deceased V4 Characters
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Turning away briefly, Clio didn't even bother trying to stiffle a laugh at his request to offer food.

"No thanks, I've got about enough of that stuff to last me a month. Honestly, if I see one more fucking loaf of bread I might stab something. I would honestly kill you if it meant I could get a drink that wasn't water. Water water water water water WATER ALL THE TIME!" Clio's voice had gotten a bit higher, and her hands were waving around like a stereotypical Italian grandmother. Looking at herself, she moved them to her sides loosely again, and cleared her throat.

"Uh...yeah, honestly, I'd rather take my chances trying to hunt someone down and become a cannibal than chow down on bread as a feast." Clio finished. Taking the momentary break in her little speech, she leaned briefly against one of the bed's banisters.

She sighed. Well, the girl was now stuck in a room with a wealthy British guest she needed to entertain somehow.

...could she-

-nah.

He probably wouldn't be interested in that anyway. Adding to the fact it had been almost 6 months since she last tried it, and that it was almost hardwired into her system that she was a terrible person for even wanting to do it...

...hold on, was she actually thinking about bon-the hell was that?

Clio's eyes flickered to the crack in the wall, and she could have sworn that the light that entered the room that way was momentarily extinguished. Either a rather large insect crawled over the hole (and given the state of the house, it really wasn't that farfetched) or someone was now currently occupying the house. She was willing to bet on the latter, since it seemed like a more logical solution.

Not even sure if the guy was speaking or not, Clio held up her hand to the boy, signalling for him to stop making any sort of noise. The figure was walking through the hallway at a very slow pace, and the shadow passed by the doorway, without stopping, in what seemed like minutes later. As soon as the figure's shadow left the doorway, Clio lept towards the table.

In a harsh whisper, Clio almost shouted at Maxwell, grabbing for his impressive machine-gun.

"Sorry, don't mind me, got some business," Clio smiled at the boy, and then, almost as quickly as she was there, she was at the door. It flung open, and Clio jumped out into the hallway, aiming straight at the figure.

Not wasting any breathe, she smiled widely, flicked the hair out of her face, and pulled the trigger.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Shake&Bake
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Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
Haruka had been careful, opting to only tread over the carpet running down the centre of the hallway, rather than the dusty floorboards to the sides. Creaky floorboards, she had them back home and they always seemed to alert her whenever her mother or father ventured into the kitchen to get some water. Being a light sleeper, it always woke her up, but she had since gotten used to it.

It was different on the island, the noises didn’t wake her up because she never allowed herself to sleep. That had been a dumb move, because when she finally did collapse due to exhaustion, but it took the announcements to rouse her. Never mind the boys gathering at the fountain mere feet away. She was lucky they didn’t get her in her sleep, putting a hand over her face, blocking her airway. Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad way to go, especially if she didn’t wake up before it was over. Maybe that’s the sort of death her other classmates would have opted for given the chance between that and their own ones.

As Haruka had made her way through the mansion, she kept long gaps of silence between each step forwards. In her imagination a hungry yet sleeping monster had materialised in the room, anything short of silent would wake it up and cause it to devour her. Sometimes it was that way at the animal pound, with the feistier animals. Scratching at the doors to their cages, barking and yowling in fury, demanding to be set free, going for your fingers with their teeth if you leant in too close.

When they finally got to sleep, making a sudden noise was the last a volunteer wanted to do. It was the same during feeding time or if they were simply busy doing something else other than trying to knock their door off of it’s hinges so they could maul you half to death. That was how Haruka had treated the situation when she first heard the voices. The corridor had numerous doors, each presumably leading to a bedroom, empty with furniture covered in white sheets and cobwebs clinging to the plaster ceilings, mothballs sitting in grand wardrobes and flowers sitting withered and dead in their glass vases. Haruka had been wrong.

Somewhere along the lines of exploring the house as if it were a fairground attraction and looking around for a decent hideout, a fort even, Haruka seemed to have lost track of the fact the mansion could possibly hide killers. Not imaginary monsters with rows of sharp teeth or translucent ghosts in formal attire, but very real and very human killers, armed with guns or knives who wanted her dead. And they seemed blissfully unaware of her presence, their voices revealing casual chitchat as she passed by their door.

This was a room she didn’t need to take a peek out, but one she needed to avoid like grim death. If she remained silent she’d be able to slip away, unnoticed, but if she was too slow she could be caught mid-sneak as one of the two decided they needed some fresh air. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her hands began to tremble and she needed a moment to pull herself together. If you just stay quiet, they won’t come looking for you. It’s like a game of hide-and-go-tag, except if you get caught this time, it will be a lot worse. For a moment she feared that the jagged shard of the plate was going to slip from her hand and shatter against the floor, or that she’d stumble in her attempt to tip-toe away and fall against a wall.

Haruka turned to go down the rest of the hallway and took some baby steps. She kept her hands clenched tightly, and could feel the shard digging through the napkin and into her skin. The corridor seemed to get more derelict and untidy the further it went down. Maybe it led into the west wing where the roof had been blown apart. Patches of damp seeped through the wallpaper and there was mould growing over the floorboards and carpet. What am I doing? I can’t continue on…I have to back, whilst I still have a chance! She turned back around and slowly began sneaking down the hallway, slowing down as she approached the door again. Oh God...

The door flew open and from the room jumped a girl. Her long stringy black hair hung down her face like a curtain, shades of purple running through it. The dye-job alone sent alarm bells ringing in Haruka's head. Clea? Clio? Clio Gabriella! Killed...A whole bunch of people! A gun was in her grip, and suddenly Haruka was snapped out of it. She didn't need to stand there any longer accompanied by the strange human jack-in-the-box. Being stealthy didn't matter anymore, all that did matter was getting away.

Haruka turned, the soles of her shoes gliding over the carpet, and she tightened her grip even harder on the plate until she was sure that she had drawn blood from her own palm. She wasn't the fastest runner but even for under a minute, she could go pretty fast. She hadn't limbered up, but she didn't need to worry about pulling a muscle or getting cramps. Her feet hit the floor, building up a fast tempo as she ran forwards away from Clio and her accomplice. A gunshot rang out, loud and clear, bouncing off the wallpaper.

A sharp pain rang out in Haruka's shoulder, a sudden impact exceeding even that of the car she had been bumped by that time in Junior year, she was late, she didn't bother telling the driver not to worry and tore off like an injured rabbit. In fact, thats exactly what she was. The sharp pain was accompanied by a sudden burn, like that time she had brushed her fingertips against the baking tray when she decided to use tea towels instead of the oven mitts.

Too many feelings and instances of pain seemed to be pulled back through her memory, all comparing to this sudden new feeling but failing to match it. She couldn't prepare herself or walk it off, she didn't know how to cope with something so agonising and hot. She looked down and saw the red blood running down the dirty pink sleeve of her jumper. The bloody wreck of a shoulder that could have been her head if she wasn't lucky. No, this couldn't be lucky. You'd have to be an idiot to consider this agony lucky.

Haruka fell to the floor. Her legs had given way beneath her and she had tilted forwards, diving into the carpet. There was that horrible feeling in her arm, the heat still there but everything surrounding it getting colder as more blood ran down her back and down her arm. I'm a mess! I'm...I'm just like that dog with the stitches and I'm just like... That frozen image of Craig O'Hoyle lying there, bleeding from the gut flashed before Haruka's eyes and she let out a shrill scream.

Nobody was going to come and help her, wrapping her up in a warm blanket and pull them into the backseat.

They weren't going to dial any numbers on their phone or drive her somewhere safe.

She wasn't going to enter a white room and receive a numbing injection.

She wasn't going to be changed into a white gown or wiped down with an alcohol based gel.

Nobody was going to put her under and remove the bullet.

Nobody was going to stitch her back up and give her a room.

Nobody was going to visit her and send her meals.

Nobody would send her cards and flowers and nobody would be there waiting with a wheelchair when she got better.

She probably wasn't going to get better, especially if she simply laid there on the floor bleeding into the carpet as her shooter came walking over. She was only going to get worse. Haruka Watanabe could only rely on herself for the time being, she could only be her own good Samaritan. Her own doctor. Her own friend. Nobody but herself could stop Clio Gabriella from unloading more bullets into her frail body. Nobody else could help her escape.

Haruka suddenly found herself climbing to her feet, her bloodsoaked hands leaving crude red smears on the wallpaper as she regained her full height. Her bloody fingers grabbed onto something hard and wooden sticking out from the wall, a doorframe without a door leading into a dusty staircase. Still shaking in agony, Haruka Watanabe hurriedly clambered up to the attic silently praying that she'd live to see another day.
COOK 'N' KILL
........RECIPES........
x 1 oz. Rat PoiSon
x 1/2 oz. Meta-cyanide
x 1/2 oz. Fex-M3
x 1 cup Tiberium

Shake and Stir
GOOD LUCK!


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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
Maxwell was more then a little irked by Clio's reaction to his offer, the fact that she actually brought up thought of killing him making it all the more frustrating. The young Brit honestly considered the possibility of a retort along the lines of "Well, if you want to starve to death that's fine by me you ungrateful bitch. I don't see why the fuck I should bother being polite to you if that's the way you're going to react...

But rather then act like a petulant child, the young man shrugged. Not showing any outward signs that he'd been offended by Clio's reply.

"Suit yourself... Can't say I really blame you, I can barely stand the bloody stuff myself. Not that either of us really have a choice on the matter... God, how I miss the taste of good glass of champagne."

As he recalled the exquisite flavour of a particularly memorable glass of champagne he once had whilst on a holiday trip to Paris for the weekend, a thought suddenly occurred to him. If this mansion was anything like the one his Uncle Henry owned, then surely there must be an old wine cellar somewhere? A cellar which, whilst almost certainly empty after the terrorists set up all the cameras and such, might possibly hold a secret stash hidden amidst all the wine barrels and shelves. Its not as if Danya's cronies could have removed every single drop of liquor from the house as they cleared the place... And even if there definitely wasn't any left in the cellar, that didn't change the fact that they were in a HUGE mansion. A mansion well worth exploring in detail. Who knows what they may find in the many rooms that made up this once cultivated home.

"Hmm... Say Clio. I was just thinking-"

He stopped mid sentence as Clio lifted her hand to silence him, her attention fixated on the door. At first Maxwell couldn't tell why on earth she had decided to cut him off, but seconds later it became all too obvious.

There was a shadow moving slowly underneath the door. A shadow roughly the size of a small person.

*Sigh*. And here I was thinking that I'd finally get a break from this damn game... Oh well, may as well show Clio how a professional player does thin......

Once again, Clio had decided to interrupt Maxwell mid-thought. Only this time however, she had decided to leap across the table and grab his gun.

Wai- WHAT?!?

"Sorry, don't mind me, got some business,"

And with that, the killer with purple streaks in her hair bolted for the door and slammed it open, jumping out into the hallway and aiming his weapon at the figure who had just walked past them.

NO! You idiot! Don't you fucking DARE waste all my ammo on some worthless punk!

Too late. Despite how fast he had moved from his spot into the hallway, Clio had already pulled the trigger and released several bullets in their prey's direction in a short burst. From the looks of things, at least one of the bullets hit their target, injuring the intruder in the shoulder and dropping them to the floor.

He looked to the stunning killer who stood beside her and smiled. Seems he'd been worrying over nothing the whole time... He'd expected Clio to completely empty his gun and waste what little was left of his ammunition. Thankfully though, she'd only fired a short burst, and even hit the girl in question she was aiming at... Good. Because if it turned out that she'd used up all his ammo and not hit their intruder with a single bullet, the young Brit would have probably shot her in the head right there on the spot.

Nevertheless, the fact that she had just stolen his gun without asking permission first was relevant.

"Nice shot. Now then, I'll be taking that back..." he said, 'politely' snatching the gun back from Clio's grip. "...THANK you. Next time, feel free to ask first before you decide to use up all my ammunition. Otherwise I might not be so inclined to forgive you so easily..."

The look on his face as he finished the sentence was one of complete and utter seriousness. A part of him genuinely considered the possibility of just killing her and getting it all over with. He was going to be forced to do so at some stage anyway if he was to make it off the island, so why not now? Before she could hinder his progress any further...

But deep down, he knew he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now anyway... He'd only just met this girl, and already he was beginning to actually like her. The young Brit doubted that he'd ever be able to speak to anyone else on the island in such a casual manner again, so the idea of killing the only person he could actually talk to was more then little off-putting. Besides, it would be a shame to kill off one of the top killer so early in the game... He didn't want to have to take on the entire island all by himself, did he?

He looked back to see how their little intruder was doing, only to realise that they had managed to actually get up and stumble away.

"Well well, seems she still has some life in her after all..." he said casually to Clio, cocking his gun as a wicked smile appeared on his handsome features. "...Lets see if we can amend that mistake, shall we?"

On that note, the eager young killer ran from where he was standing in pursuit of the irritable intruder who had unluckily bumped into the two top killer on the island. Following her was easier than he'd expected, a convenient trail of blood droplets leading him and Clio upstairs and into the mansion's attic.

It was wide and spacious inside the attic of the building they had resided in. Cobwebs littered the place, covering the rafters that kept the roof up and the various bits of furniture that had been stored up there in a haphazard fashion. The only definite source of life seemed to come from across the vast sea of old furniture and rafters in the form of what looked to Maxwell like a piece of the roof was missing. Thats... strange. Guess this place wasn't as well preserved as I first assumed...

Even in the dark, it wasn't too hard for Maxwell and Clio to navigate themselves though the debris. Eventually, after following the faint trail of blood which was made even more obscure by the darkness of the attic, they found their target standing on the edge a large drop where the roof literally ended. Their intruder as it turned out was a short Japanese girl who reminded Maxwell far too much of the same little Japanese girl who'd been a painful thorn in his side for the past few days...

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have any fun with THIS oriental midget, right?

"Unlucky... Seems like you've reached the end of the line, eh? No where else to go except through the two well-armed killers who've cornered you against the edge of a particularly nasty looking drop..."

An evil thought occurred to Maxwell just then. Why should he waste his ammunition on this cretin when he could let Clio finish the job herself? She had her own weapons after all... And if she decided to stab the girl up close and personal, there was the slight possibility that they could take each other out at the same time. Maxwell wouldn't have to even lift a finger...

Yes, that sounded like a very good idea indeed....

"But where are my manners..." he said, turning his attention to Clio. "You spotted her first after all. What kind of gentleman would I be if I were to steal away your glory like that?"

He moved aside, motioning to Haruka with his left hand as he bowed over slightly with a cruel smirk on his face.

"Please... be my guest."
V5 Characters

Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
Jenna Rhodes - Hotel

Deceased V4 Characters
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Clio's smile remained plastered on her face as the girl fell like a marionette with its strings cut. Perfect, just perfect. Maxwell had even received a show, a front-row seat showing what Clio was capable of. She flicked her smile towards him like a fruit seed, and was somewhat pleased with herself. What wasn't perfect, however, is that her hands took it upon themselves to start stinging again.

...ow.

And, for some reason, they were starting to hurt less and less with each bullet. What could that have been? Exercise? Surely something like that was only a plot convenience for someone who was tired of disadvantaging their character? Or was it just that she'd been exercising her fingers with something more than a pen, or hairbrush, or steering wheel?

Whatever it was, it was sure as hell a great way to show this guy, this "competition" if one were to put it that way, what she was capable of. But, of course, standing in the uppermost hallway of this house, she realized how much she would have probably pissed him off. That was HIS gun after all, and she knew that someone of this high class of murderer surely wouldn't have appreciated the taking of their weapon for god knows what purpose.

He snatched it out of her hands like she was a small baby who'd gotten hold of her father's stapler. His expression of relaxation, of endless amusement, was gone, replaced with one of seriousness. Well, Clio couldn't really blame him, since she simply took his gun without asking the essential stuff: How much ammo? How fast? Recoil? Aiming capability? Weight? She knew that it would simply be out of place for her to actually go through asking those superfluous questions while the girl who now...where the fuck was that girl?

Looks like some people could actually get away with being shot. That was news to her, really. The fleeing girl had been hit in the shoulder, and despite what the movies said, that was almost the worst place to get hit. There were arteries, nerve muscles, and a lot of bone in that area of the body. Even if she did manage to survive such a wound on the first entry, she wasn't going to last much longer.

However, the British boy beside her seemed to think otherwise of the little girl's chances. Maxwell seemed intent on making sure that she never made it out of this place alive. Well, while it wasn't something that Clio was used to doing (not in any real sense, as Charles was still alive when she ran to hunt him down) there was always the room for improvement. If the fact that he seemed intent on not killing her in any situation proved something, it proved that he was willing to momentarily team up with her, even for only this day. Well, there was no point in leaving him to finish the job himself, waste his own "precious" ammunition.

As she ran after the boy, she found out she was right after all. There was a large trail of red vivacious liquid leading behind her, twisting and turning as the girl stumbled around. They hadn't caught a glimpse of the girl yet, and to make it worse, they were heading into the attic.

Now here was a place that Clio did not hold her breathe in her disgust. A large house meant a large attic. As the mansion was probably bigger than anything she'd visited before, even when going along to visit her parents foster parents carers friends and family. She was always the odd one out, seeing as how she a) looked nothing like her parents, and b) didn't see the appeal of living the rich lifestyle other than being able to buy whatever you wanted, or beg for something from your parents and knowing that they could afford it. They could have the biggest mansions, the biggest houses just for show, meanwhile they had their own relatively large house in St. Paul, even if it was only as big as the suburban house in "The Nanny". Big houses really scared Clio, seeing as there was always a place to hide. She'd never wanted to end up in the attic of one, because once you got lost in there, there was almost no way out.

Still, no way out for Clio still meant no way out for the wounded girl.

As they both made their way briskly among piled boxes and debris, Clio couldn't help but take her sai out warily. Since the blood trail, however obscure in the dark, was leading away from the two, she really had no reason to be overly cautious. The girl was wounded, dying. There was no way that any ambush could work.

Eventually, the dim light of the musty attic subsided momentarily, and she could really see where the two of them stood. Or rather, the three of them stood. The girl Clio shot now stood before a drop in the floor, where the floor seemed to have decayed and disappeared over the years. It was the classic movie standoff, the hero trapped, the villains about to close in. The only thing was, that Haruka was no hero in this. Being apposed to the two biggest killers on the island at the moment did not make her any more of a heroic person than a scared little girl.

Clio stopped, her sai stayed in motion. She'd taken it upon herself to turn it around in her hand absentmindedly as they followed. She didn't know why she'd brought it instead of her gun, nor had it at the ready rather than her trusty gun, which had racked up quite the impressive kill count already. However, the thought occurred to her that Maxwell was right, rightfully angry after Clio wasted those precious few bullets in something that hadn't even finished the job properly in the first place. The sai could also probably bridge that gap in between "uncomfortably close" and "distant" that had been granted and distinguished through the kills (or rather in one case, attempted kill) of Luke and Garry.

Maxwell started a little speech upon which he started to talk about the fact that it was literally the end of the line for her. Whatever her name was, she'd simply made it so that every step she took up to the attic, every little scurry, everything she did, was her last. She'd never had the chance.

And then...he turned on his little gentleman switch again, offering for Clio herself to have the honors.

...okay?

Clio was momentarily confused at how easily he could just hand over a kill like that. He was right in everything he said, about her spotting the girl first. However, it was simply the way he said it that seemed to unnerve Clio just a tiny bit.

Still, a kill was a kill. She didn't want to start giving up the opportunity to really get off this island just because the way in which she received the opportunity to land a kill was a bit "odd".

As the boy moved slightly to the side, Clio started forward, sai at the ready. Every step seemed to echo tenfold as her brain tried to tell her exactly what the hell she was doing.

You do realize how hard this is going to be?
I do.
You do know that the person will actually have their life ended by you, not by that gun?
I do.
You know that you found it so hard to actually try and kill Garry with your own hands before?
I know.
You do remember you said you couldn't do it by your own hand?
I know.
You do realize what you're doing?
I do.
Can you do it?
I can.
Can you?
Yes.


Soon, she was there, standing right in front of the small Asian girl, right behind her. Without even a thought, or an attempt at an apology for making the ensuing act so ruthless, so painful, Clio brought the sai forward, the tip of the blade straight into her stomach.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And...one more time.

After the final one, Clio held up her hand to the girl's shoulder, and gave it a small push. Just a small one, nothing more. She didn't speak, she didn't apologize to her...victim, she supposed, she didn't say anything redeemable, she didn't ask her anything, she didn't want to know what she did before coming here, she didn't want to make amends, she didn't care that she would have had friends who would be lost without her, she didn't care that this fifth kill was making her more and more noticeable in the eyes of everyone in the world, she just...pushed.

That was all.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Shake&Bake
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Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
Haruka wasn’t quite so sure how she had found herself at the edge of the building so soon. She had finally made it up the attics stairs, each clumsy step causing the floorboards beneath her to groan and creak. There wasn’t really a place to hide, if the constant creaking of the floorboards didn’t reveal her to her attacker, then the trail of blood she was leaving behind would. Haruka fell to her knees and frantically tried wiping the blood away, silently praying through raspy breaths that Clio wouldn’t notice the macabre breadcrumb trail in the dim, musty attic. Realising she was only smearing the blood even further into the dusty floorboards, Haruka clambered to her feet again and staggered into the shadows.

Twists and turns around boxes, covered furniture and drapes hanging from rafters. The history of the house spread out before her and she was too busy trying to hide amongst it rather than take any notice of the old story each antique told. The shard of the plate was still in her hand, held outwards as if to stab any monster that should pop out from the shadows and give her a surprise. Soon she found herself covered in cobwebs and dust, particles of lint seeping into her wound. It was a scary thought that she should simply bleed to death in that labyrinth of furniture and never be found again. That she’d be one with the house forever.

She could hear the echoes of Clio and her accomplice heading up the staircase now, each footstep urging her to find a better hiding place before it was too late. Smearing a bloody handprint onto a globe, Haruka ditched her hiding place behind the dusty davenport desk and staggered through another thick curtain of cobwebs and moth-eaten drapes. The ground began to give way beneath her, sagging dangerously with dampness and decay. Haruka sank to her knees after trying to turn back, the smell of mould stinging her nostrils.

She was in the mouth of the house now. The blasted out section of the west wing that allowed the island to seep in and turn careful crafted detailing into rotting wood. Lush carpets into damp patches of moss and mould. Shingles and splintered wood hung around the mouth like teeth, and Haruka knew what lay beyond the steep drop where the floor gave way completely. Maybe I could turn back, it’s not too late, it’s not! But turning on her heel only brought her face to face with Clio Gabriella and Maxwell Lombardi, whose names spoken out loud early in the morning labelled them as killers.

There would be no reasoning with them. There would be no begging or pleading. No negotiations. She was gone for, but maybe it wasn’t too late to save herself. Maybe she could somehow scale down the side of the house and drop into some bushes. She took a step backwards, arching her back. She was suddenly reminded of the hot, searing pain in her shoulder. She was practically handicapped now, useless, like a bird who had cruelly had it’s wing clipped.

"Unlucky... Seems like you've reached the end of the line, eh? No where else to go except through the two well-armed killers who've cornered you against the edge of a particularly nasty looking drop..."
Haruka slowly looked over her shoulder at the drop. A two or three storey plummet down to the overgrown bushes, where no matter how she landed, she was sure she’d infect her wound further and break a bone. If she jumped she’d hit the pathway, surely that would be instant, like when a fly was crushed with a swatter. If she put some true momentum in, maybe she could make it to the lawn. One thing was for sure, she’d rather die out there and in the attic, in the mouth of the mansion. There was no way she could fight the two, she could only jump and deny them her inevitable death. She took another step backwards, biting her lip as the floor began to sag.

"But where are my manners...You spotted her first after all. What kind of gentleman would I be if I were to steal away your glory like that?"

Haruka Watanabe needed to make her decision. Was she going to save herself any further agony and throw herself to her death or was she going to let Clio Gabriella end her life there and then? She could commit suicide like a coward, or face her death with a mix between dignity and stupidity. Neither of those results sounded particularly appealing.

But there was a problem, even when faced with one cruel form of escape, Haruka was too scared to consider even suicide. She urged herself to lunge forwards and fall to the stone paving below, but she simply couldn't. She was frozen to the spot again, like that pathetic coward staggering about in the tunnels, freezing at every sound and echo.

The shy meek girl who nobody paid attention to, the one who was simply there, sinking into the background. Haruka Watanabe, a disappointment to her parents who strived for success. Haruka Watanabe, a social coward who could barely work up the nerves to introduce herself. Haruka Watanabe, who spent the last days crawling around in the dark like a frightened little mouse.

Was that all she was destined to be? A cowardly rodent? So jittery she allowed paranoia and delusions to choose her pathway? So scared that she allowed her only weapon to be taken away by Feo? So frightened that she foolishly deprived herself of sleep and water? So terrified that she deserted Trent and the others after Craig had been shot? Weakness was written allover her face, the looks of apathy in her killers eyes only confirmed it. She was an easy target not even worth remorse. A scared little rat.

But even cornered rats can fight back.

And that was that. Haruka ignored the agony coming from her ruined shoulder. Haruka ignored her bleeding palm as she tightened her grip on the plate shard. Haruka ignored the odds stacked so highly against her that it was almost a joke. Even if she didn't even land a single blow upon Clio or Maxwell, she'd die knowing she had tried. Her parents would know what their little disappointment had fought back against the odds before her death.

Clio stepped forwards, the sai in her hands. How many lives has it taken? Three? Four? The china dug into the cuts in Haruka's hand, blood seeped through the napkin. Maybe if I wasn't such an idiot I wouldn't have found myself in this mess...I could have been amongst friends or sane persons! I thought my fears were supposed to be good for me, to keep me on the alert, and look what I've got now...If only I had stopped being such a scared little idiot things might have started to work out for me.

Maybe one final act of bravery could make up for Haruka's past mistakes, even if the outcome didn't change the circumstance. Maybe thats how all the soldiers who died first in the wars felt. They may have been running, guns blazing, straight into enemy territory. They would probably be sent home in a coffin with the stars and stripes draped over it. Maybe they wouldn't be found at all.

But they would have died for something, no matter how insignificant it seemed to other people, it meant alot to them. A narrow chance, hope even, or maybe it was the final fact that they were dying for a cause. And like that, Haruka ran forwards to Clio Gabriella, the shard of china raised high in the air. Even if her death was a mere spark and fizzle in the inferno that was V4, she would have gone down in her own blaze of glory.

She made it three steps before Clio sent the sharp tip of the sai into her stomach. Pain exploded in Haruka's gut and she opened her mouth to let out a scream, but could only frantically gulp like a fish. Her eyes clenched shut and her wrists shook violently, the shard of china shattered like a little bomb as it hit the floor. Clio Gabriella slid the sai out of Haruka's stomach, preparing herself for another stab.

Haruka's legs gave out beneath her and she doubled over, falling forwards into Clio just as the sai entered her body a second time. Haruka's bloody hands held onto Clio's arms, desperately clawing for support as she sank to the ground. A bleeding beggar frantically using their superior as stability. Haruka's face pushed past Clio's chest, and she found her cheek pressed against her shoulder. There was a third stab to her stomach, lifting her off her feet a little before she settled back into Clio's frame.

There were no images of her past, a happy girl in Japan with her parents before she became a burden in America. No nostalgia or bad memories, no happy moments. All Haruka could do was look at Maxwell Lombardi, the blood running down her chin, trying to make some kind of eye contact. Black hair fell over her face, obscuring her vision until she finally gave up and looked down at the floor. She couldn't scream or fight back, she could barely breathe. She was merely a ragdoll now, unable to even make one last effort to throw herself over the edge of the sagging floor.

Another stab, this time cracking a rib. Haruka let out a shrill cry of agony, before finally sinking to her knees, her hands tugging at Clio's clothing in an almost childlike fashion. Haruka tried to tilt her head back, to get one last look at her killers face, to maybe try and decipher some kind of human emotion behind the veil of black and purple, but could only let her head droop forwards like a dead flower.

Maybe she'd see Craig O'Hoyle when she crossed over to the other side, maybe she'd be able to say sorry for ditching Trent. Maybe. Clio delivered two final stabs, before letting Haruka lean against her legs as her life finally began to ebb away, through the many holes and cuts etched into her frail body. Clio rested a warm a hand on Haruka's shoulder, maybe there was something in that touch, guilt even, or maybe she just didn't want the girl to bleed all over her.

With a gentle push it was all over. Finished. Haruka didn't stretch out her arms to make a last attempt to anchor herself to her killer, she wouldn't have been able to muster the strength even if she wanted to. Haruka wouldn't use her last moments to forgive or damn Maxwell and Clio for what they had done. She merely kept her eyes shut and embraced the fall like a withered leaf at the start of winter. Maybe there was bright side to this, somewhere.

G112 Haruka Watanabe, Eliminated
COOK 'N' KILL
........RECIPES........
x 1 oz. Rat PoiSon
x 1/2 oz. Meta-cyanide
x 1/2 oz. Fex-M3
x 1 cup Tiberium

Shake and Stir
GOOD LUCK!


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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Marybeth Witherspoon continued from Axes Aren't Efficient For Grinding))

How does somebody manage to walk across the entire island for a whole day without seeing another person?

Marybeth sure as hell had no idea. Not that she had actually spent the entire day walking. That would've been too much work. Still, all she'd seen was a bunch of trees and the occasional squirrel. It couldn't be that hard to find other people.

Actually, that was a lie. She had found people. Or at least what remained of people. There was one boy at the mining station whose head had more or less been blown clean off right. According to Danya, that had been Brock Mason. And then there was that girl, Miranda Merchant, in the woods who had a whole in her neck. Other dead bodies too, here and there around the island, but not a single other living person. She'd have thought that there actually wasn't anyone on the island if she hadn't already seen people on the first few days. According to Danya, there were still about two hundred kids left.

So where the hell were they?

The big house she'd just come across might've been her ticket to finding human life. Or maybe she'd just get screwed over and find it empty anyway. Was it really that much to ask for, to be able to find some other people to interact with? Preferably not the crazy killers, but she didn't want to find some meek and boring kid who would just sit and cry about the game. But after so long of not being able to talk to anybody, Marybeth really would just settle for anyone.

As she approached the door, the speakers littered around the island screeched to life. Weird, they didn't do that in the middle of the day, only in the mornings. Whatever was going on, it probably was important. Not to mention that it might give Marybeth an idea where she might find people, which made it a good enough reason to listen.

Evidently, Liz Polanski had done something with the collars to have pissed Danya off. Marybeth was surprised to hear Mr. Kwong's voice on the speakers. Still, whatever Liz had done, it wasn't like anything that had happened before on Survival of the Fittest. Not that Marybeth knew everything about it, but big stuff like this didn't get ignored by the places on the internet she frequented. She wondered what was the whole story.

Marybeth always had a saying: if she didn't know the whole story, nothing could stop her from making up a plausible version of it. A few ideas crept through her head. Maybe Liz had found a way to mess with other people's collars and make them blow up. Or maybe Liz got superpowers and could actually make collars blow up with her voice. That sounded pretty cool.

The sun still hung in the air, with what appeared to be several more hours of daylight. Marybeth's hands itched to write; she hadn't done any of that ever since she had woken up on the island. She could probably get the most light outside, since she hadn't seen any places with actual working lights yet, and flashlights didn't count. She put her pack down and pulled out her notebook. There were some scrap story ideas from days long past. Maybe she'd get around to writing them another day. First, she was going to write a little story about a special Liz Polanski.

V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
One of the last things the poor Japanese girl saw as she was helpless to stop Clio's relentless attack was Maxwell Lombardi standing tall with his arms crossed, a sadistic grin on his face as he observed his temporary accomplice in action.

Admittedly, it was a pleasant change to not be the one who has to do the killing for once. Not that the idea of killing inexplicitly became abhorrent to Maxwell again or something. If anything, seeing Clio take care of this ingrate reminded Maxwell just how fun it was the first time he flushed the life out of someone with his own bare hands. But nevertheless, it was still nice to just sit back and enjoy the show for once. Like a footballer who, bored out of his mind, decides to sit down and actually watch a little football before going back into the game.

The chink as it seemed tried to at least put up SOME kind of defense, even if it was just as pathetic and useless as that blond haired moron's genius idea of jumping in the way of several oncoming bullets. It was actually quite a shame, really, that the girl didn't put up much of a fight. A part of the young Brit was hoping that she'd take Clio with her and save him the trouble of having to eventually deal with the exotic killer himself. Oh well, it was a win-win situation either way. It'd of been a shame if the 2nd best killer died so anticlimactically anyway...

He smirked at the finishing touch Clio added when she shoved Haruka off the edge for good measure. It was little things like that which made being on the damned island all the more bearable... Now that their intruder had been dealt with, Maxwell couldn't help but hold his gun using his armpit and clap in a rhythmic fashion to applaud Clio on her perfectly executed kill.

"Well done! I couldn't of done a better job myself..."

The rhythmic clapping slowly drew to a stop as Maxwell considered what the next course of action should be. Now that the intruder was dead and gone, he wasn't exactly sure what to do now in order to pass the time. At least, he wasn't sure for a few seconds until he remembered the suggestion he was going to make before he was so rudely interrupted...

"...And you know what, I think this calls for a celebration. Could you wait for me in the bedroom for, oh, a couple of minutes or so? I'll be right back, hopefully with a little surprise in tow..." he said, giving Clio a mischievous wink before heading off through the attic and back downstairs.

After making his way through the maze-like corridors that made up the mansion, heading down a seemingly endless number of staircases along the way, the young man eventually found what he was looking for: Namely a small rectangular room which served as the mansion's wine cellar.

As expected, it practically barren. The shelves were mostly empty, save one or two empty bottles that had been left in a haphazard fashion. The floor was covered in dozens of empty and broken bottles, which Maxwell was especially careful to not accidentally tread apon. At a guess, it looked as though there had been some kind of drunken party occuring in this cellar shortly before it was abandoned. One that was possibly even commited by Danya's own men, as evidenced by the camera that was watching his every movement in the corner of the ceiling. What the devil is powering those things anyway? Oh whatever, who cares... Seems as though the bastards have cleared this place more thoroughly then I though. So much for finding an intact bottle of......

..................

.....Is that what I think it is?


At first he thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. After all, the chances of finding an intact wine bottle amongst all this rubbish was highly unlikely. But sure enough, lying there between the shelves and surrounded by debris lay an unopened bottle of Frontera Chardonnay white wine. Just left there unattended for god knows how long. The only reason why it hadn't already been taken Maxwell guessed was that as the cellar was cleaned out, they must have mistaken it for one of the other empty bottles that they had left strewn across the floor in a mess.

Maxwell smiled. Unlikely, but not impossible as it seemed.

Without even batting an eyelash, the young Brit grabbed the bottle and was about to make his way back to the bedroom where Clio was (hopefully) waiting for him, when suddenly he froze on the spot as the announcement speakers sounded up once more.

What the...?!? This can't be right. They're only supposed to play announcements in the morning... Something big must have happened.

He listened closely to the announcement which played out, taking note of every last detail. The longer he listened to it, the more intriguing it became as the news as to what had just happened was broadcasted across the island. By the time it was over, Maxwell just stood there in silence for a minute or two...

...And then, he began to burst out laughing.

HA! So somebody in the end really DID figure out a way to get the collars off after all! Not so fucking foolproof, are they? Oh, if only I could look at the fat man's face when he realised that his system had been royally screwed by a damn teenager!

He had to hold back on his fit of laughter somewhat, seeing as tears were beginning to flow down his cheeks by this point. He was certain that nobody would be able to hear him from all the way down in the middle of a cellar, but nevertheless he knew that he had to have SOME self control.

After another minute or so, the young Brit finally managed to calm himself down as he wiped a tear from his eye. Whilst it was great to hear that someone had finally screwed Danya over, the fact still remained that escape was impossible. The bounty placed on Liz Polanski made that even more obvious. Even if you DID somehow get the collar off like she did, you were still in great danger. If anything you put a huge target on your head. God knows, if Maxwell ever found this Polanski girl he wouldn't waste a second in wasting her on the spot... Okay, maybe he'd congratulate her on beating the system first, THEN he'd kill her.

Anyway, best to not keep Clio waiting...

He made his way up the various staircases which stood between him and his destination, manoeuvring himself through the labyrinth-like corridor until he finally found himself standing outside the bedroom which he'd told Clio to wait within. He stood there for a moment, gun in his right hand and a bottle of wine in his left, before taking a deep breath and knocking lightly on the door and opening it.

"See, I told you I'd be back. And look what I found in the..."

He stopped mid-sentence, his face suddenly turning red.

"Oh god, SORRY! Sorry..." he said in a flustered manner, turning his head away from Clio as he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

Jesus, talk about bad timing...
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
...Clio's hands were filthy.

As the girl went sailing off the top of the little drop, she got a good look, a good feel of her hands as they touched the girl's reddened fabric. These were the hands of a murderess, the hands of someone who'd gotten a lot of blood beneath the perfectly manicured fingertips. The hands of someone who'd crossed any discernable line of morality, and stepped into an unknown abyss.

Well, pushed really. Or reached. Either way, that itty bitty thing was roaring behind her now.

There seemed to be a very, very momentary silence after she pushed her off. The moment she hit the ground, it changed, shifted. Like a little breeze wafted through, and brought the still statues to life. Well, not still statues, but rather a British mass-murderer.

"Well done! I couldn't of done a better job myself..."

...well done. Good job...cool. Accolades. From a very fine guy, if I might say so myself.

"...And you know what, I think this calls for a celebration. Could you wait for me in the bedroom for, oh, a couple of minutes or so? I'll be right back, hopefully with a little surprise in tow..."

Oh, the glories of mixed signals. There were literally (well, not literally literally, but more like the literally people used for emphasis literally, that one) millions of ways that Clio could have interpreted that sentence, but a mysterious wondering of what the hell was actually going through his head seemed to bounce up first.

She didn't have time to ask him, since he sauntered back down the bloody trail from whence they came before she could even open her mouth. That was just something she was going to need to find out later, or rather think about.

Clio stood there for a bit, watching the boy make his way through the attic, and as he worked his way out of sight, Clio sighed. He was...well, Maxwell seemed to be that odd mixture of someone you could really trust with your life, and someone who seemed to take glorious pleasure in watching people die. Honestly, the last bit didn't really surprise Clio. She knew her year, and she didn't know them as well as she could have, but there were some strange people among them, all the little hidden sociopaths among the happy, preppy, normal people. Really, didn't surprise her.

What was kinda surprising her was the fact that the little Japanese girl who lay below her seemed to have a lot of blood. As in, a lot of it. Looking down, and getting a good look at her person, her entire skirt was coated in a thick layer of plasma, skin bits, and most prominently, blood. It was soaking, dripping, and still in motion as she stood there alone. What was also of notice was that her new weapon, her sai, was also coated in the same stuff. All of the stuff that was there shouldn't have been able to cling to her shiny new weapon so tightly, it was just terrible. And her shirt, that was simply the worst. The girl had no chance of meeting her at eye level, but the blood seemed to reach up and fuck it around even more so.

I needa get changed.

A few minutes later, Clio had made her way back into her little room for the evening. Everything was how she left it, no one had taken anything from the bedroom, the only bedroom in the hall with the doors whipped right open and giving off a free show without permission. The room with all their weapons, all their belongings.

First thing was first, Clio took a bottle of water from her bag. The plastic was now all too familiar with her hands, seeing as how she'd been drinking from the same thing for the last...how many days was it again? Clio strolled over to the corner, next to a chest of drawers (and an expensive looking one at that) and undid the bottles lid. The familiar snap of plastic twisting away from its seal was a comfort, even a little bit. No one had been touching her stuff. Clio crouched down, her legs starting to ache a little bit from how much she'd been running in the last few days, and poured a little of the water into her blood-stained hands.

The most wonderful feeling in the world could have been powered to the third and it wouldn't have matched that feeling, the one she experienced now. She was being cleaned, cleaned by a bottle of warm stale water. But what did taste matter? She cupped a little bit of it in her hand and watched the water swish past the brown and red stains accumulated over the days. Clio placed the bottle down on the frizzed carpet beneath her and used the tips of her fingers to scrub the skin inpromptu-ly. It started to come off. It wasn't working that well, what with it being only water, but it was coming out. Still, the comparisons to certain literary Shakespearean nobility were lingering to a degree. She wasn't going to go down that path, however, and that was that.

Satisfied, Clio poured the water lingering on her hands onto the carpet. There wasn't any need to be all caring about the integrity and cleanliness of the carpet now, since it was never going to be used again. It would have taken far too long for her to go out, find a bathroom, and get cleaned there, so this would have to do.

She straightened herself out, and headed back over to the bed again, when, as she sat herself down, something she didn't expect happened.

The speakers that were supposed to only come on at the start of every morning screeched to life. Looking up at the nearest one, wedged in the topmost corner of the room, she resisted the urge to conform to the stupid-girl main course of action supplied within the manual and tilt her head confused.

Well, she didn't need to wait for long, since apparently all her answers were suddenly shot out of the air by...

...the fuck?

Was that...Mr. Kwong?

*

By the time Kwong had made this...rather alarming announcement, Clio had taken it upon herself to lie back down on the bed, and couldn't help but smile. In the past few days, she'd been robbed of any opportunity to get rewarded for putting her ass on the line like this, trying to take down all these people. But now, she was given the opportunity to actually be rewarded for something she could actually put an effort towards. Once Maxwell came back with whatever celebration he promised...

...speaking of which, what the hell had he promised? A surprise could certainly mean anything nowadays, especially since the opportunity to off anyone you didn't like was involved. He could come back in his underwear, sporting a six-pack abs and pecs of a god, with stacks of roses and various amounts of implements for a great show back home, something for the guys watching on their computers in their moms basement to talk about with their friends one-handed, or he could have hidden a shotgun in the basement, and was now using her cluelessness as an opportunity to get the jump on her. He could be striding down the hallway, smug grin on his face, and ready to blow open the door and anyone behind it.

Well, he didn't seem to be coming back for a while, so...she could probably get changed now. Blood wasn't a good moisturizer.

Standing up next to the bed, Clio reached down and peeled off her shirt slowly. She had to close her eyes momentarily, trying to erase the fact from her mind that thousands of geeks around the country were now screen capping and getting their special sock out from what she was about to do next alone. Removing her gun from the back of her skirt's waistband, she felt around her body. It was the only thing she had left that wasn't worn down and exhausted from all these days of fighting, and, well, it was now going to be forever immortalized on the internet.

Such a fucking hurrah for her, whatever.

Straightening her bra, purple and unsurprisingly small, she felt her way around to the back of her skirt, and pulled it down to her legs. She didn't waste time kicking it closer to the bed, and...well, there she stood.

Practically naked except for her underwear.

And her eyes were still closed, because she didn't want to think about the fact that the cameras were still watching her. The world, her family, all those people were watching her, fawning over her, taking pictures of her right now for the websites...

Her eyes were still closed as she grabbed a water bottle out of the nearest bag, Maxwell's bag, and emptied it onto her skin. She started from her chest, the blood on her shirt having been given the proper chance to soak in yet. It trailed, it ran a drunken race down to her stomach, where the bulk of it still stood, even though her clothes were off. She felt it, the red mixing with the white like paints on a palette, and she knew that there was no way to get it off.

Nope, still not comparing herself to that Lady person, nosiree.

Clio took the corner of the bed's dusty blankets and wiped herself down, taking most of the blood with her to the bed. Not content with how unclean she still felt, she emptied the rest of the bottle on her lower body, trying her best to touch every pore on her skin with the stale, bottled water. Warm. The blood was only fresh and new on her legs and waist, and Clio was able to get that stuff off more easily. The blanket was now soaked in a pinkish-brown combination of blood, dried blood, and water stuck in between, as she sat there, hands clasped on the bed, eyes still squeezed shut as all the things she tried to not think about were wedging themselves like door-stoppers into her brain again.

They would have had such a better chance had Maxwell not decided to enter the room at that moment.

Judging by the fact that he wasn't expecting his new female ally to be sitting there, drenched in water, and still covered in blood in her underwear, she was guessing that one of the possibilities that used to float about in her mind about what the surprise was was not it.

Definitely not it.

....heh.

Maxwell couldn't see it, but under the purple and black hair that had covered her eyes when she leaned forward momentarily, Clio was grinning widely. Oh yes, ooooh yes. What did this look like to him? She had no idea.

What could she turn this into?

Well...the possibilities were endless, really.

There was always the manipulation route, the one that worked so well on her third...third was it, yeah, definitely...conquest.

First, you make it look like you're either sad or crying. Clio's hands, clean of blood but heavy on water, moved up to her eyes behind her hair and rubbed them. It wasn't a long one, just something little, to add the water to her eyes.

Next, you speak very carefully, just to not give yourself away.

"It's...it's okay, Maxwell...Max." Clio said softly, before clenching the bed with her hands and hoisting herself onto her bare feet.

"Max...I know this is a game, and you're not gonna care one fucking bit about what I say next, but just shut up, and listen."

Clio knew that to take a fish out of it's habitat would be the equivalent of killing it. She needed to make him feel uncomfortable, but not threatened.

"You...this is gonna sound like complete bee-ess, but...you've been probably the nicest guy to me in the last 2 years." Clio reduced her grin down to a sincere, or so it looked, smile, and faced Maxwell...Max.

"I mean, let's face it, you didn't kill me when you saw me, that's a definite plus. The previous 3 guys I met who knew who I was all tried to kill me, tried to stop me from doing this again. You were fucking honest, that was the best thing of all. You didn't try and tell me that we could have any opportunity of teaming up outside of here, try and take my trust. You weren't always nice to me, like they were, just trying to get to me. You were you, or what looks like you've become here."

Clio stepped forward slightly, and spoke again.

"You're the person I definitely need right now, and personally, I don't care what the answer is. I just want to here an answer from an honest person who doesn't have to lie to me. You're not going to lie to me, cause I know you, Max. Just be different from every guy who's answered before you, and tell the fucking truth."

Clio stepped forward again, and raised her head. Through the purple and black screen that was her hair, the smile on her face was one of pleading, of begging, something that she knew he couldn't lie to.

"Just tell me...am I beautiful?"
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
Well, you don't see that every day...

Maxwell wasn't sure if he should be confused, enthralled, sympathetic or seriously creeped out by the scene that lay before him...

It was probably safe to assume that he was feeling all the above at then exact same time.

Clio was... Well, he wasn't exactly sure WHAT she'd been doing before he came in. She was just sitting there, practically naked save for her underwear and drenched in water. It would have been a stimulating sight if it wasn't for all the blood that covered her skin and the once-white blankets. That, and the fact that her long black and purple hair was covering her face made the sight more chilling then it was alluring for the English boy.

...Not that the sight didn't pique his interest nevertheless...

Good god, what on earth was she doing in here? Was she washing all that blood off? Is that it? If so, then why didn't she bother to do it in the bathroom or something?

Unless... Maybe she's preparing hereself for.....

NO! No, now's not the time for those kind of thoughts Maxwell...


"It's...it's okay, Maxwell...Max."

On that note, she slowly let herself down from from the bed and stood to attention, her face still hidden behind a veil of tangled hair.

"Max...I know this is a game, and you're not gonna care one fucking bit about what I say next, but just shut up, and listen."

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at THAT particular remark.

"You...this is gonna sound like complete bee-ess, but...you've been probably the nicest guy to me in the last 2 years."

It didn't take Maxwell long to figure out that something wasn't right here, what with Clio acting very suspiciously all of a sudden. Twenty minutes ago she was going on about she would gladly kill him for a chance to get a drink that WASN'T water, and now she was acting all innocent and flowery in front of him. From the looks of things, what she said earlier about being an excellent study project for some psychology major seemed to be much less of an exaggeration then Maxwell had first anticipated. Part of him wanted to just lift his gun and take her out on the spot. Save him the trouble of having to do it later anyway...

...And yet, he honestly couldn't bring himself to do that...

"I mean, let's face it, you didn't kill me when you saw me, that's a definite plus. The previous 3 guys I met who knew who I was all tried to kill me, tried to stop me from doing this again. You were fucking honest, that was the best thing of all. You didn't try and tell me that we could have any opportunity of teaming up outside of here, try and take my trust. You weren't always nice to me, like they were, just trying to get to me. You were you, or what looks like you've become here."

She took a step forward, prompting Maxwell to stand alert in case she tried to jump him or something. The young Brit decided to take the opportunity to check out the almost naked killer standing before him. Not specifically for voyeuristic reasons, but in order to see if she had a knife or something on her.

Thankfully, unless she'd somehow hidden a razorblade in her bra, there weren't any weapons on her. She was completely at his mercy. Leaving herself wide open for him...

What the devil is her game? Is this how she's killed her victims? By tempting them only to then slit their throat when she got the chance? No, that can't be right... She's completely unarmed. And if she wanted to kill me, then why not just grab the gun and shoot me through the door? There must be some ulterior motive to this. Some reason as to why she'd be doing this that doesn't involve......


...............


....Does she?


No, surely not...


Then again, it makes perfect sense. God knows how much i'm desperate for a....... No, stop that Maxwell. Thats just wishful thinking messing around with your common sense again...


But, what else could she want? If she wanted you dead, she'd of already tried to gun you down on the spot or something. Its not like she could choke you to death or something. And besides, if she wants to THAT badly, then why shouldn't I...


Damnit Maxwell! This is RIDICULOUS! We're in the middle of Survival of the fucking Fittest here, not some seedy bar in the middle of downtown Las Vegas! Why would ANYONE in their right mind want to do that kind here of all places, in front of the entire world!


......................................


.........Then again, how could I honestly refuse such an offer?


..........................


"You're the person I definitely need right now, and personally, I don't care what the answer is. I just want to here an answer from an honest person who doesn't have to lie to me. You're not going to lie to me, cause I know you, Max. Just be different from every guy who's answered before you, and tell the fucking truth."

He finally smiled now, the gun and his recently acquired bottle of wine slowly dropping from his hands onto the soft carpet he was standing on.


...Sure, why not.


There was of course, the possibility that he was about this too deeply, and that she really WAS just being friendly. Even so, the fact of matter remained that what happened next could only end well for him.

On the one hand, he and this young and VERY attractive woman might be about to experience the thrill of a lifetime. On the other hand, she might be about to try and kill him, prompting the young Brit into removing the competition with his bare hands once again and getting one step closer to his ticket off this blasted island. Who knows, maybe she'll try both? And if it turns out on the off-chance that he'd been getting the wrong message the whole time... Well, tough luck. 'No thank you' wasn't a legitimate answer here anymore, now that she'd already tempted him this far. He was going to enjoy this thoroughly, whether she'd like to or not...

Yes, truly it was a win-win situation.

"Just tell me...am I beautiful?"

Rather then giving a straight answer, Maxwell simply smiled warmly and gently moved the hair that was covering Clio's stunning visage so that he could actually look into that pair of exotic eyes.

"Of course..." he whispered to her, using that charming and sincere voice of his that had worked so well in the past to its full potential.

Your move now. Don't disappoint me...
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It's working. It's...it's actually working. He's either falling for it or trying his own fucking thing, but goddammit, it's working!

Clio couldn't help but smile a flickering smile through the strands of her hair as she stood before the most handsome man in the world right now. Honestly, anyone that wasn't a dumb American or a knuckle-brained Iranian or whatever was multiplied tenfold in her book; Dustin Royal? Overrated. Mike Jeffries? Good, but nothing to gab about. This guy, however, she knew it would only lead to great things between them.

Well, in the next few seconds, there really wouldn't be anything between them, now would there?

The boy's hands reached out and spread away the hair strands blocking her face. They were the most comforting hands in the world, because they were familiar hands. They weren't the hands of a dumbass, they were the hands of a cold, calculated killer. They weren't the hands of a teenage boy, they were the hands of a guy who'd flown past all those lines of greying morality with her. They weren't just kids anymore, they were people, who'd made the choice to start killing and save their own lives.

And those hands hid a killers face, and that killers face hid a beautiful soul. Beautiful to her, fuck anyone else. He was the one person who knew what she went through, and that voice, that beautiful voice...

"Of course..."

That voice was the lead-in to something beautiful.

Raising her hand to his, she clasped it softly, feeling his hand like it was a new patch of skin, something warm and wonderful. She didn't waste any time after that. Still keeping his hand in hers, she moved so close to him that they were touching at the hip. Their lips were so close that a fly wouldn't have been able to co-ordinate through without crashing. Every breath was magnified ten-fold as Clio spoke for one last time before it really began:

"Max...I'm yours."

And just like that, the two most powerful players on the island, Clio Gabriella and Maxwell Lombardi, kissed.
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cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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[ *  *  *  * ]
This was it.

Finally, after spending the last few days getting shot at and fighting for his life, Maxwell was finally going to get reward he deserved.

Okay, so yes he DID have a lot of fun when it came down to doing the actual killing. But apart from those brief moments of excitement, his time on this island had been practically hellish. Being reduced to sleeping in caves or against tree trunks, having to survive on nothing but bread and stale water, enduring the elements of the great outdoors without a roof over his head... Maxwell loathed every second of it.

So to find himself barely centimetres away from one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met, with a wide smile on her face and passionate intentions in her heart, was something of a godsend for youthful Englishman.

"Max...I'm yours."

Indeed, you are...

And, just like that, the girl with purple streaks in her hair and the boy with red highlights in his own leaned towards one another and kissed.

It was a simple, yet tender, kiss which barely lasted a few seconds. Barely chaste compared to what Maxwell had experience in the past, but pleasurable nevertheless. The fact that the last kiss he'd shared was a rather mechanical one with his ex-lover Vera Somethingorother made the short yet sensual one he'd just had with Clio a hundred times better.

As their lips parted, the two took a moment to look one another in the eye, almost as if they were silently asking each other if they were really about to go through with this. But instead of saying anything, the two simply smiled and resumed the kiss, wrapping their arms around one another as it slowly increased in passion. It wasn't long until the simple kiss had evolved into slow yet sensual make-out, the two lovers inching towards the bed as their lips pressed against one another. Maxwell, of course, was very careful to not rush things too quickly. Whilst things were starting to get a little more passionate, to do something rash like shoving his tongue down her throat at this stage would only ruin the moment. After all, chances are he wouldn't get another chance to do this until he was finally off this accursed island, so he wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as he possibly could... Besides, if Clio desired him to be a little more forceful, he'd be more then glad enough to satisfy her.

As they neared the bed, Maxwell pulled back once more to look Clio in the eyes again. Those mismatched, yet undeniably stunning eyes. Truly, a girl as beautiful as Clio shouldn't even exist beyond the boundaries of fiction. The chances of coming across such a person in this game had to bee 200-1... And yet, here he was, moments away from one of the greatest experiences in his life.

He smiled, then leaned forwards and gave Clio a brief peck on the lips before working his way down to her neck, giving the young woman brief kisses as his hands wrapped around her back and undid the straps to her bra. As he discarded the piece of clothing, he took the opportunity to observe his lover's exposed chest with anticipation. Hmm, not as impressive as Vera's by a long margin. Oh well, I suppose it doesn't make that much of a difference anyway...

After another moment's pause, the two resumed their kiss as they inched a few more feet towards the bed, falling over its side and landing on the soft mattress in each other's arms.

And to think that somewhere out there, people were fighting and trying to stay alive, whilst the two top killers on the island enjoyed one another's company in a tight embrace...

Karma, as it seemed, worked in very mysterious ways.
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[ *  *  *  * ]
((Double-gming-post done with Inky's permission))

For the next minute or so, the two lovers lay there on the bed in each other's arms, kissing one another with a soft passion.

Maxwell was tempted to take it even further, after all this was the first opportunity he'd have in a while of enjoying another woman's company like this. But at the same time, he wanted to savour this moment for all its worth. Besides, foreplay was in many ways Maxwell's favourite part of sex. That, and the actually act of sex itself. All in due time Maxwell... No need to rush.

As Maxwell's lips pressed against Clio's, the young man took the opportunity handed to gently caress his partner's left breast with his hand. Whilst it was still a shame that Clio happened to be relatively flat-chested compared to some of the women he'd been with in the past, the fact that he was still able to touch her this way without her complaining made it all the more worthwhile. A soft sigh of pleasure eminating from Clio as he did so only increasing the experience.

But as the two kissed and touched one another, Clio's hand at that moment happened to be inside Maxwell's jacket. At first she had simply been caressing Maxwell's chest, but as her hand touched the metal of Maxwell's pistol she couldn't help but grab it and take it out, aiming it at Maxwell's chin from her prone position underneath him. At first she seemed to have the young Brit at her mercy, only for her to then notice that Maxwell in turn had grabbed her own pistol from where it had been left stranded on the bed and was currently aiming it at her chest.

The two paused for a moment, their weapons aiming at one another. At first, neither of them were sure of what to make of the situation. Or what to do next for that matter...

But soon enough, without even saying a word, the two lovers simply smiled and placed the guns on the bedside table as they resumed their kiss with twice as much passion as before.

This time however, after quickly removing his jacket, the two spun over so that Clio was on top with Maxwell underneath. What had started as a simple peck had finally evolved into a full-on makeout, the two lover's tongues dancing in one another's mouths in excitement. The young Brit's arms grasped onto Clio, one hand clutching her flowing hair whilst the other squeezed her finely shaped rear. For the next few minutes, the two young lovers continued to passionately make-out with one another. Maxwell embracing the half-naked girl against him as Clio explored his mouth with her tongue. A wave of pleasure flowed over the young Brit as Clio's delicate hand gently caressed his groin, prompting him to get up and pry himself from Clio's grasp.

The Italian girl sprawled out on her back against the bed as Maxwell propped himself up onto his knees, looking into one another's eyes as they caught their breath. Without wasting any time, the young Brit undid his tie and threw is away, quickly moving on to undoing the buttons on his shirt. It was at that moment that he noticed that some of the blood that had covered Clio was now covering his own shirt... Oh well, it was bound to happen eventually anyway.

Once the buttons were undone, he took the shirt off and threw it away, exposing his athletic upper body to the girl in front of him. Apart from several bruises from his fight with Daniel Blessing, it was quite a sight to behold. Sure, he wasn't exactly a body-builder, but he was still in far better shape then some of the other simians Clio must have encountered in this position.

Hmm, what now? So many options... But I think I'll let her decide what to do next from here. Can't let myself have all the fun, can I?
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((I'm soo sorry there's no excuse for me taking this long >.<))

I-

The boy removed his tie.

Have got to be-

And soon, the boy was perched there, in the prime position for him to take her.

The luckiest girl in the world.
The best actress in the world.

But he stopped. That was her queue.

Folding her legs across, Clio crawled forward towards Maxwell. Her hair hang low, just showing her face, just covering her exposed breasts. The crawling act, it wasn't her best, hell it rarely worked right because she would always look menacing, and therefore not even the least bit titillating. But now, she knew she had done it right.
You didn't.
Not wasting her time, her lips started their work. She kissed the bottom of his naval first, while her hands grasped his excellent arse and his wonderfully athletic left leg. What an excellent body it was, on that matter. The crowd she chose, the jocks, they all had to be the same; oversized, more muscles than brains, and their stomachs looked like bulging rope, like they knew that someone would eventually try to shoot them or attack them there. Her nails dug in, not quite trying to hurt him, but almost like, well, just her causing him a little bit of pain. After a few good pinches, covered up only slightly by the sensual aura she hoped radiated from her kisses. Soon, they drifted upwards, towards his nipples. Now here was where the girl was an absolute expert. Her tongue graced them, hell if she was into this stuff she would have devoured them whole, but all she did was make sure that she knew the male body better than he did. Just as planned.

She moved up to his collar, and her hands moved slowly towards Max's sparkling white pants, pants speckled with dirt. It was all those little things, even in a life or death situation that made her hunger for one of the good lives of a nice little rich girl. Good clothing. White clothing. She never had that stuff. And now it felt like in more ways than one that she was branching up, grabbing onto something she so desperately wanted and yanking it down to her level. This guy was richer. This guy was a bigger killer than her, 6 people was it? She only had 5, he had 6. So it wasn't as much making her move on a guy who was slightly out of her league more than making him know that he wanted her. He needed her. He was going to want her, all of her, down to her little 5 kills.

Clio ripped the belt off with ease, and in a flash, his pants were down. All that lay between the two becoming one was their underwear.

And all the while Clio was still making it work where it counted. She bit down hard on his neck, and even though she knew he wasn't going to bleed, she knew that this would be a constant reminder of her. Within a few hours, the blood vessels would show, and a little bit of her would be with him until he rotted. Wonderful, no?

Wasting no time, she started to make out with him again. Clio kept him thoroughly distracted as her hands intertwined with his, bringing them around her figure. Those rough hands, those killers hands were now on the edge of her newest pair of panties, and she was their guide. They moved down, tugging those expensive strings with them, alllll the way down to her knees, perched right on the bed.

Clio pulled out of the kiss at a snails pace, and she leaned back onto the bed. The only pair of clothing on her entire body was now aching to be taken away, just like she wanted, no, needed. Her perfectly executed plan to bring him down to her, make him thinkKNOW that he needed her just as much as she needed him.

Come to me Max.
Come to me Max.
Perfect.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
When Maxwell first laid eyes on Clio, the last thing he'd expected was for both of them to wind up in THIS situation of all things.

Not that he was complaining... This was far better then the two of them shooting each other to death. Sure, they were probably being watched by the entire country by now. God knows what his parents were thinking of him right now, sleeping with a borderline psychopath after butchering six people in a row. Something told him that there were very few parents out there that would actually approve of such a thing.

But unlike some people, Maxwell didn't care in the slightest. He didn't care about what his parents thought about him, or what anyone thought about him at that moment. He didn't care about the fact that he was about to sleep with someone on live TV. All Maxwell Lombardi cared about at that particular moment in time was that within a few seconds from now, he and Clio were about to have the experience of a lifetime. And considering the fact that by this point Maxwell was already having the most fun he'd ever had on the island, the young Brit just couldn't wait for what was about to happen.

...........


...Well, he was having the most fun he'd had on the island since his last kill anyway.


Not the right time or place to be thinking about that Maxwell...

With a dashing smile on his face, the young Brit slowly removed the last piece of clothing from Clio's body as he inched closer towards her. By this point, he was poised right above her in nothing but his underwear and a pair of socks, his hands keeping him upright as Clio's went to work on removing his removing his underwear and socks. Once that was done, Maxwell took one last look into Clio's mismatched eyes before moving in.

Okay, just need to position myself right and... Ahhhh, THERE we are!

There was now practically no space between them, a wave of exhilaration flowing through Maxwell as he and Clio finally connected. Like before, his movements were slow but sensual at first, but quickly picking up pace as the two of them began to get more into it. A soft moan of pleasure emanated from Clio as Maxwell thrusted back and forth, her hands gripping his firms shoulders and pulling him closer. It wasn't long until the momentum began to build up, slowly edging towards the climax which Maxwell was hoping to put off for as long as possible.

This... THIS is more like it! This is what i've been waiting for this whole time! What i've been WORKING towards! What I DESERVE after faffing about this island for so DAMN long! And all those other pathetic bastards out there are too busy shooting themselves in the face to do anything about it. And whilst they're all dying horribly, here I am making sweet love to a beautiful woman in the comfort of and safety of this mansion. And there's nothing stopping me this time. Not a single damn thin-

CREAK!

............

....Of course. How stupid of me to think that I could POSSIBLY have a moment to myself without some cunt popping out of the woodwork like that.


The young Brit stopped what he was doing and turned his head to the door to find another girl looking at him. An astonishingly dull looking one at that, with yellow streaks in her hair and a smiley face on her shirt. She seemed to be saying something... Something Maxwell didn't quite hear.

After all, at that moment in time, Maxwell was far too enraged to listen to some bitch with yellow highlights in her hair.

Why... Whenever I want to have a moment to MYSELF... Do I have to be INTERRUPTED by some fucking moron who can't tell when to mind their own business! Fucking whore. Fucking air-brained slut. This was MY time! MY moment of glory! MY break from this godawful game!

But if you bastards are THAT desperate to drag me back into playing so soon, then i'll by all means be more then happy to oblige...


On that note, the young Brit stretched out his arm to grab the pistol he'd left on the bedside table. Namely the Korth Pistol he'd removed from Daniel's corpse. Clio seemed to have the same idea, reaching out for her own pistol at the same time.

Once the two killers had retrieved their guns, neither of them wasted any time as they each unloaded several bullets in their intruder's direction.
V5 Characters

Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
Jenna Rhodes - Hotel

Deceased V4 Characters
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Solomir
Member Avatar
Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Placeholdering again because I think Maxwell and Clio probably want to get moving))

Marybeth eventually stopped writing and went into the mansion.

She heard some movement from the upper floors, so decides to investigate.

She happens across a couple in the throes of whatever they are doing, and says something appropriately witty.

Marybeth gets pumped full of lead for her troubles.

G027: Marybeth Witherspoon - Deceased
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Everything that happened before the girl entered the room wasn't going right. It dawned on Clio, almost halfway through the act, that she wasn't just getting fucked by one of the hottest guys she'd ever seen. She was getting fucked by one of the most handsomest guys she'd ever seen...on live television. As Maxwell entered her, the feelings began to arise. The most abundant feelings of all; pleasure, pain, etc, they were quickly overshadowed by an anxiety (NOT RIGHT NOW, PLEASE, I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING, I DON'T WANNA FEEL LIKE THIS WHEN I HAVE SOMEONE INSIDE OF ME, THANK YOU). It wasn't quite that overpowering, but it sure as hell killed the mood for her. Having sex in front of millions does that.

She didn't know what Maxwell was feeling, as he dominated the scene, because she wasn't about to ask. She wanted to look like she was thoroughly enjoying it, so she wrapped her legs around him tightly. It was all about her containing that little bit of dominance, even though the guy obviously had this alpha complex about him so. He was always in control of every situation, right? Well, that was th...

CREAK!

Oh what the FUCK?

Standing at the doorway was a girl. She was looking at the two in coitus, and engaged in some witty comment of a kind.

The anxiety and nervousness encompassing Clio was gone in a blaze of rage. Who the FUCK did she think she was, waltzing in on two of the most dangerous people on the island and making a COMMENT about it? No, no she wasn't going to get away with that, no siree.

Not wasting any time, Clio grabbed her gun, her good old James Bond gun. Max seemed to have the same idea, and picked up one of his guns as well. The two wasted no time in pumping the figure in the doorway full of lead.

As soon as she fell, there was a brief pause, like the girl was still alive and the two killers were simply stuck there, awkwardly staring at the girl who was sucking all the attention away. Clio put her gun back down and grabbed the back of Max's hair, bringing his head down to her. They nearly touched at the lips as Clio began to speak.

"Now. Where were we, Max?" Clio grinned, and kissed Max roughly, before throwing herself back onto the bed.

Act 2's gonna have to be much better than the first.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Fiori
Member Avatar
The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
For what seemed to Maxwell like an eternity, the two paused as Marybeth fell to the ground with a heavy thud, her body covered in several bullet-wounds. For most people, the sight alone would have been enough to shock them to the core. Enough to drive them to madness to think that they could have been able to cause such a thing to happen to someone...


As usual though, Maxwell didn't regret what he'd done for a second. If anything, the familiar adrenaline rush from his earlier killings was beginning to resurface. Which, mixed with his amorous feelings towards Clio, served only to fuel his lust rather then stop it dead in its tracks. All Maxwell could think about now was whether or not they should still continue with their lovemaking... She better damn well be up for it. Because my god do I feel alive right now! I feel as if I could take on the entire island with my bare HANDS!


Sure enough, it didn't take long for Clio to pull his face to hers and utter a quick word before pressing her lips against his as they resumed their passionate lovemaking. And Maxwell, already in a state of pure unadulterated lust, returned the kiss with a passion unlike anything he'd ever experienced before in his life. From there one, his once sensual and passionate movements had become more primal and animalistic as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was on complete autopilot, all the subtly and care from earlier completely absent as he practically ravaged the girl underneath her with all the energy he could muster. It was almost as if Marybeth's death had temporarily released a more primeval part of Maxwell, his method more similar to that of an animal then that of a human. It was beyond being passionate, or even simple lust. It was something much deeper then that which was driving him at that moment, something not even he fully understood at that moment in time... And he was loving every second of it.


Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time before the climax had been reached, and all the strength that gone into their lovemaking faded away into nothingness. They continued making out for a while afterwords, their tongues toying with one another as they lay together in a tight embrace. But eventually, after being well worn out from such an adrenaline fuelled lovemaking session, the two lovers slowly but surely drifted into unconsciousness in one another's arms...


That... Was...... Magnificient.........




...........................




............




....




.

Beep.

"Evening children... my aren't we having a busy day? It seems that one of your number has no regard for the rest of you...

Maxwell slowly opened his eyes as he was rudely awoken from his slumber by the announcement, listening on with curiosity as Danya informed the island of Liz's continued acts of rebellion. Her again? Hasn't somebody stuck a knife in her back yet? Christ, can't believe I got woken up for THAT...

It didn't take long for Danya to blow another student's collar. Lucy something-or-other this time. Not that he cared in the slightest... Whilst Danya seemed to claim that these were random killings, the young Brit highly suspected that they were careful to only detonate the collars of those who in hindsight wouldn't make that much of an impact of the game. Maxwell had killed six... No, seven people by this point already. Killing him in such an anticlimactic fashion would be too much of a waste.

Even so, hearing that an established killer like Alex Rasputin had his collar blown as well didn't fill him with much hope.

Once the announcement had ended, the young killer stretched his arms and yawned loudly. Announcement or not, he couldn't deny just how much of a difference it had been for him to be able to sleep on a comfortable bed like this. Well, relatively comfortable anyway. Still, a mattress is a mattress after all. Can't really complain about that in the end. Its a shame once I leave here that I'll have to resort to sleeping out in the open again. Oh well, at least I can stay here a while longer with Clio for compa......

......Hang on, where is she?


For a brief second, Maxwell was unsure of her whereabouts. The last thing he remembered was the two of them falling asleep in each other's arms, only now she seemed to not be in bed anymore. Nevertheless, all it took to find her was Maxwell quickly turning his head towards the door to find her redressing herself a couple of feet away from him.The young killer couldn't help but smile in relief. It would have been awfully rude of her to walk out on him like that...

"Morning... Or, evening I guess." he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. She turned to him and began talking, saying something along the lines of having to leave in a hurry. A pity, but it wasn't at if he could really blame her for wanting to go. After all, they had wasted possibly an entire day's worth of hunting. Well, wasted was probably not the right definition. Maxwell for one certainly didn't regret what they had done mere hours ago... Still, so many to kill, so little time....

"Oh well, I suppose it was nice whilst it lasted... You know, I actually considered asking if we could team-up earlier, take on the entire island Bonnie and Clyde style. But, now that I think about it, that's probably not a terribly bright idea in the long run..."

As he spoke, the young Brit grabbed his clothes and began to redress himself also, starting with his underwear.

"Still, I have to say, last night was simply amazing. Possibly the most fun I've had on this island since the time I had this fight with some bastard who assumed he could play the hero and take me on in hand-to-hand combat. Heh, I taught him some good manners whilst I was at it... God, it was so satisfying to extinguish that cunt's life with my own bare hands."

Maxwell recalled the event with the same nostalgic feeling that someone would remember and old fishing trip, or a particularly good game of bowling. By this point, he had just refastened his belt on and stood up, dressed only from the waste down. He walked slowly around the bed until he had made it to his shirt and jacked, which as it happened were lying right next to his trusty TEC-9. He picked up the weapon, inspecting it in his hands. The memories he'd had with the weapon. The people he'd killed using it. The people he'd yet to finish off with it... It was a crying shame that he was down to his last magazine.

"You know, its funny... I was just thinking about which was more fun, making love or killing people. And you know what, I think murder might just be a little more satisfying. I mean, not in a sexual way of course. There's just something about the feeling of taking another man's life that's truly incomparable, you know? All the adrenaline, the excitement. The thrill of the hunt so to speak... Honestly, it makes me wonder why so many people seem to complain about it all the time. I've heard of there being players in past games who've spent half the time killing people, and the other half whining about killing said people. Some of them even going as far as taking their own life! Pathetic... Truly, pathetic... I'm glad you decided not to go down that route in the end. I honestly have no respect for people who value their lives so little that they'd actually go as far as wasting it. And besides... Deep down, I think all those angst-ridden killers out there with paper thin excuses like 'I did what I had to do' love it just as much as I do. The only difference is that they're too cowardly to admit it..."

He smiled, and slowly turned his head to Clio.

"I, on the other hand, am not..."

There was a moment of silence between them, as the two of them just stood there looking each other in the eyes. Hmm, I wonder what's going on in that disturbed head of her's? Who knows... Anyway, best to break the silence now.

"But anyway, I ought to get dressed. Those simians waiting for me out there aren't going to kill themselves now, are they?"

Well, not all of them anyway...

He quickly went about retrieving his clothing, putting his black shirt on along with his favourite maroon tie. He ignored the corpse of Marybeth as if it wasn't even there, not even acknowledging the smell. As he reached out for his jacket, he spotted the unopened wine bottle he had brought up earlier. Not wishing to put it to waste, he opened it and began filling his empty water bottles with the red liquid. By the time he'd filled them up, the bottle was still half full. Well, I suppose I COULD throw it away... But what kind of gentleman would I be if I did something like that?

On that note, the young Brit screwed the top back onto the bottle and threw his jacket over his shoulder as he walked up to Clio with the bottle in his hand.

"I, uh, suppose you can have this. Must taste a lot better then a bottle of warm water..."

She took the bottle from him, holding it in her hands. The two stood there for a moment, close to one another, staring into each other's eyes. There was a stray strand of hair in Clio's eye again, a hair which Maxwell gently moved with his hand. There was a warm smile on his face, an almost genuine one this time.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope this will be the last time we see each other. It'd be a shame after all we've done for it to end in bloodshed."

For once, Maxwell was actually be quite honest. Despite having only just met her, he'd actually grown quite attached to the peculiar girl. Sure, she was a psychopath on the edge of madness, but nevertheless there was something about her which Maxwell couldn't help but admire. She had sense of confidence about her which Maxwell greatly respected. She was a bit smug, yes, but then again so was he. That and the fact that they had been deeply intimate with one another earlier led Maxwell to believe that he might have become more attached to her then he actually realised.

"...Although, I suppose one last kiss couldn't hurt?"

Sure enough, within seconds moved in closer as he leaned over and their lips touched once more. This kiss however, was different from the others. There was something more genuine about the feelings in it, something more real...

Something more loving.

...No.

After what felt like an eternity had passed, Maxwell broke away from the kiss, looking away from Clio's eyes.

I'm can't believe I've been such an idiot. I've grown soft. I've dropped my guard. I've fallen for the oldest trip-up in the book... I've actually grown attached to her. I've begun to actually CARE about this borderline lunatic. Hell, I might even love her, if that's what this feeling is... Damnit Maxwell! You had to go ahead and fall for a fellow player, didn't you? How're you going to up your game if you're concerned about the welfare of someone whose for all intents and purposes the enemy! She's a psychopath, a complete nutcase! She's nothing to you. NOTHING. Just leave now, and forget this ever happened. You can't let this drag you down... The pragmatic thing would be to kill her now and get it over with.

But you can't do that, can you?

Damnit......


After a deep sigh, the young Brit moved away from Clio and put his jacket on, throwing his bag over his shoulder and lifting his gun up high. After one last quick lookabout the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he made his way for the door and left. But not before turning back one last time and saying:

"...Goodbye, Clio Gabriella."

And with that, he was gone.





It wasn't until an hour or so later, after he had left the mansion far behind him, that he realised that something was missing.

Damnit, my gun! The one I'd sto... Liberated from Mr Eyeless. Its gone! Shit, where did I last see it. Clio took it out of my pocked and place it on the bedside table, I picked it up later when Little Miss Cockblock entered the room and I finished it off. I must have left it on the table... But no, I checked that damn table thoroughly. Which must mean...

......

.....Oh, clever girl.


He couldn't help but grin to himself. In hindsight, the gun wasn't that much of a loss. He only really needed one pistol anyway. Besides, he could use the extra magazine for his 'original' pistol anyway.

Anyhow, enough wasting time. They must all be missing me out there... No point in keeping them waiting, eh?

And so, with a smooth smile on his face, he cocked the TEC-9 and carried on with his trek.

Guess what world? Maxwell Lombardi is back in town...

((Maxwell Lombardi continued elsewhere...))
V5 Characters

Brian Zhdanovich - Homestead
Ruby Forrester - Shopping Mall
Jenna Rhodes - Hotel

Deceased V4 Characters
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Brackie
Member Avatar
i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Forgive for how choppy or incoherent the post may seem, I'm just trying to get Clio moving along so I don't make this death way more overdue than it already it, and it is 5 in the morning here...))

Squinting through the darkness, semi-darkness, whatever it wanted to be called, Clio realised she was awake again. Waking up was hard to do, and having to place yourself in that brief moment when you're still asleep was even harder. Senses overclocked. They registered everything. Mansion, sweat, skin, silence, and...that smell of body odor and fluids that only lingered after sex.

...Oh. Right.

Her and Maxwell. That happened for real. It wasn't just some neurotic fans dream of a couple coming true, it was real. She and him actually had sex.

Sex in front of millions of people.

...

...

...this does not bode well for my reputation as a cold killer, now does it?

What happened just then with Maxwell, as she tried her best to wake up fully in his arms, was something that should have stuck to fiction. If this were a story, it was bound to happen. But this wasn't just a story, it was real, a woman's life. Hell, not even a woman, a girl. It's one of those decisions you can't really make on the fly like that, just deciding to have sex with someone who had the opportunity to kill you at any given moment.

Well, that was it, really. It was only in those places that the consequences really mattered. When it was a purely innocent victim that was in her place, not the calculated mind of a murderess. And no, she didn't just decide to have sex with him on the fly. It was all about proving something to herself, just proving that she...she wasn't just another female killer. She wasn't a Mariavel, a Clemence, or Melina. She was attractive, like everyone of those before her, but what lay underneath that beautiful skin was...

...Jesus, what am I going on about? I sound like a Shakespeare monologue, that's just stupid.

So the facts had to be set straight. The only reason she had sex with him was because a) she was in that mood and b) she just wanted to prove she still had it in her to make men fall for her. There wasn't any subtextual meaning behind that crap, no ulterior motives, just a plain old fuck that would mean nothing tomorrow. Not to her at least, she didn't know what he was thinking while the Brit boy slept.

Her eyes started to blink in rapid succession, as she tried to fully wake up. The darkness fell to the wayside and gave way to some real light, some semi-darkness. The two naked teenagers in the mansion bed became one naked teenager in a mansion bed as Clio slipped out of his arms and crept over to her bag.

In her hands were two things. One was her good old trusty James Bond gun, the other was Maxwell's own gun. Thing was, she knew that no matter how much fun she had, fun was no substitute for the game. It was like a reality show; the best players always knew that there was no downtime, and made sure that they could always be a step above the rest of the pack. So taking a weapon from him, something she knew for a fact that he had in plenty, was just a necessary action for her own advantage.

Of course, the moment she got to her bag, Danya decided to ruin her fun.

It was open, and that was what made it easy. They slipped out of her hands and tumbled into the cramped space of her bag and turned invisible. Instead of standing there, looking mightily suspicious, she instead snapped her hands down towards her bag of clothes and whipped out a fresh new set of clothing. She got a new pair of underwear and bra, a knee-high black skirt, and a shoulder-less purple top that her mother had a fit over. Oh dear Maria, the woman who called herself her mother, what a fit she must be having now. Her own daughter, the one she loved, a psycho, a slut, and a killer all at once! Carrying on the family name would be such an effort...

She didn't need to look to the probably-conscious Maxwell to know that Danya's second announcement for the evening was a one-way ticket from Dreamland to anyone wearing their sensible shoes. So she didn't rush herself, make it look too suspicious. Clio managed to get her panties on before the continuous mumbling of an overweight sadist was drowned out momentarily by the one, the only.

Her face was planted with a smile, and she spun around to face Maxwell, at the same time putting on her new bra.

"I was just about to head off, probably pick off someone unlucky to stay around here. I was never one to stick around and cuddle after sex. You didn't look like one either."

This rapid-fire explanation wasn't that forced, since all she had to do was kinda neglect the fact that she was robbing his unconscious belongings while he lay post-coitus. Maybe she forgot about it. He'd figure it out sooner or later, the former not really preferable in this situation.

And yes, she was thinking the same thing as he was. There was no way in hell they were teaming up to work off some crime-commiting duo angle, it'd never work. So many flaws in that plan, a plan that hadn't even been drawn up yet.

Not that she contemplated it while she got her skirt on. What she was contemplating was something along the lines of "does this guy ever stop thinking about killing?" The moments following his compliment to her...prowess...he started talking about one of his kills. He wasn't trying to impress her again, was he? There wasn't any need for that right now, since she'd already seduced him into bed, so what was the point of going on about killing?

...could he actually be enjoying this?

"You know, its funny... I was just thinking about which was more fun, making love or killing people. And you know what, I think murder might just be a little more satisfying."

Yep, he was definitely enjoying this.

If he was that far gone already, she'd give him about...4-5 days, tops? There was no way someone as crazy as him was making it to the end in one piece. If you enjoyed killing as much as he did, you were lost no matter how far you made it. Her, on the other hand, killed because it had to be done. She was a heartless she-devil, but she wasn't a psychotic she-devil. There was no thrill, no perverse sexual lust out of killing people.

Maybe that was why it would never have worked out in the long run. They were just too different a player, when it came down to it.

But she didn't say this to him, because while they were both killers, he was the only armed one right there. She mouthed off to him, any of that cliched little "You're mad" stuff and she was a goner. She stayed silent, smiling, and the events following flashed by like wildfire.

She got some good wine.

She got a good promise.

She got one last tender kiss.

And then he was out of her life forever.

Clio slipped her top on, and giggled. Finally, it was her mansion again.

Her hands ventured back into that bag of hers, and pulled out her newest weapon. It was a gun, a nice one. She didn't take any ammo with it, so whatever was left inside of it was what was left for good. Could have only been a few bullets, compared to the 30 or so left with her gun, but she still had a pretty good gun.

A slight rumbling feeling erupted in her stomach, and Clio resisted the urge to throw up. Five days of nothing but bread and crackers waged war on the immune system, especially where nutrients were concerned. Still, it's not like she had anything else to eat with her, she'd only taken enough of Danya's rations to feed an army. It was all starch, and wheat, and whatever else, and hot damn was it unappetising after a few days.

Rather than just leave right away, or merely accept the fact that she wasn't gonna get a nice piece of fruit out of midair, Clio looked around at the doorway of the room, the source of one of the more repugnant smells in her lifetime. A rotting body was toxic fumes eating away at...stuff, she didn't care at the moment when she had a goal in mind.

Clio's hands grasped around the girl's pockets, her pants, everywhere she could find.

But no.

This girl

Had not

one

itty

bitty

little

piece of food.

It would have made more sense to just sigh and give up, but instead, Clio grunted loudly, and threw a kick at the waist of the body. Fucking bitch didn't even have the decency to burst in unannounced with some proper food on her.

What the hell, I don't need some dead body to find food. There's probably something I can eat out there, in the forests. Fruit, flower, berry, anything's possible.

A few minutes later, she was set, like a little girl about to go on a hunting trip. Walking out of the room, not even bothering to dodge stepping on the dead girl's face (Clio heard a loud crack, and assumed her nose broke), she wasn't just a hunter. She was a predator, about to go after some of the best meat on the island.

Two large, open, mansion doors flew open in the night sky, and Clio Gabriella strode out, ready to carve her name back into the minds of every student out there.

((The Final Act))

[[Thread Closed]]
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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