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March to Your Death; Private
Topic Started: Nov 17 2010, 01:14 AM (1,132 Views)
Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Peter Siu continued from Not an Easy Out))

Stupid Danya. Stupid announcements. Stupid reminders that he was a killer.

Peter hadn't gotten much rest to begin with. He had finally caved to Eiko's insistence that places with buildings wouldn't be as dangerous as he'd kept saying. It hadn't taken them long to reach the area marked as the Residential Sector. It had taken longer to find a building that seemed innocuous enough to hide out in. There were stirs of movement here and there, and Peter was not in the mood to try to make new friends. Or in the state of sobriety.

Eiko had offered to take a watch while he rested. It had been late afternoon or early evening, but Peter was exhausted from lack of sleep over the past few days and gladly welcomed it. He would take the night's watch afterward. Even if Eiko thought it would be safe, it was far more likely somebody would sneak around here than in the woods.

If he dreamed while he slept, he didn't remember it. Even if he did remember it, he wouldn't have after the three sips of vodka he'd taken after Eiko went to sleep. He didn't need to remember what it felt like to kill somebody, to slit their throat like a trained killer.

The night waned and gave way to dawn, and the morning announcements. Peter was ready for them. He knew he'd be called out and named a killer. Still, he listened to every word Danya said. Every death announced was paired with the announcement of a killer. Some were not murderers, just frightened teenagers trying to protect themselves. Others were murderers. Like Lucas.

He remembered what he'd said to Lucas. He wasn't going to back down from it. The murderers didn't deserve to get off the island. There didn't need to be a repeat of what happened last version. The one to get off should deserve to live and go home. Murderers deserved none of that.

The announcement of his name, as much as he'd steeled himself for it, still brought back the memories. He looked into Lucas' eyes. He snarled out words he couldn't take back. He brought the blade against Lucas' throat. There was blood. So much blood. So much pain, that he knew Lucas was feeling. Why did he always remember it this way? Why could he only remember how everything had gone wrong? Peter didn't want to remember.

So he did the only thing he knew to make the memories go away.

Burning trickled down his throat. The taste of plastic, also known as shitty cheap vodka. It smoothed things over, dulling the pain. Given another five or ten minutes and a few more sips, and things would be better.

With his newfound courage, Peter stumbled out the door and onto the hard pavement. With the coming daylight, it'd be a lot easier to keep a lookout for people coming from outside. He spent the time pacing around the perimeter building. He still needed to figure out where to head to next. Peter didn't have a huge problem with staying in one place, but he still wanted to get a feel for the whole island. A map was only so useful.

The sun had risen quite a ways when Peter finally caught sight of motion in the distance. At least, the motion of what could be people. A few birds had flown past and a squirrel had been skittering around, but that wasn't a cause of concern. Peter unsheathed his sword, the blade now wiped clean of blood, and held it in his left hand, while his right hand gripped the unloaded gun he had taken from Lucas. He wasn't going to fight, but he wasn't going to make himself look weak either.

Peter narrowed his eyes at the approaching figures. They were walking quickly, which definitely was something important. Were they running from somebody? It was another minute or so of waiting until they were close enough to make out faces. There were two people. Both of which he recognized. Both of which he knew. Peter blinked once, twice, to make sure he wasn't seeing things from drinking too much. He wasn't

For the first time ever since Peter had landed on the island, Peter actually felt happy.

"Will! Tiff!" Peter waved his arms at them like a silly fifth grader. Sure he was still holding weapons, but Will and Tiff weren't going to think he was going to hurt them or anything. He was just glad to see his friends.
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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Dr. Nic
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How cute.
[ *  * ]
[Boy #61 - William Hearst. Continued from High Tides and High Hopes.]

Why were they still running?

Wasn't the plan to stop at the mansion on the map?

In the rush to get off the beach as fast as possible, Will had little time to check the map or the compass. When they hit the woods, he'd already lost his way; trying to correct it using the map and the compass only made things worse. When it came down to it, they simply chose a direction and started walking; they were bound to reach some sort of landmark sooner or later, right? Even as the hours dragged on and the sun rose higher and his stomach groaned, as his tongue dried out and his legs began to burn, they kept walking; breaks were few and far between, only to regain their strength and drink what water they had left.

But still they walked.

Past tree after tree after tree, through the brush and the detritus and still further onward. If they were to be racing, they would be making great time in their trek across the island; few landmarks came into sight but guesses as for their distance traveled were eventually dredged from memory. Matching it with the map would be useless by now, going off of guesses and assumptions and having few solid facts to back it up. No, the map was useless until they found a landmark and for as far as they had traveled and for as many trees they had passed, landmarks were far more rare and precious than the food they were slowly but surely running out of.

But still they walked.

Their pace varied at times and they had to rest longer and longer each time they slowed or stopped, but they would keep walking; if they slowed down too much or if they stopped to rest, the paranoia about their location set into William's mind. Were they in a danger zone or near one? Had they escaped from that infernal beeping or would their cautious winding path take them a little too far into the places marked on the map as dangerous and instantly deadly?

They had to keep moving.

As the sun rose higher and the day slipped away, burning the candle at both ends began to take its toll on William; little sleep, little food, little water. It was all adding up, simply because he wanted to make sure Tiffany was going to be safe. So he tried to conserve, never knowing when they'd be able to find more; he stayed up late and woke early, keeping watch and never being able to sleep comfortably or for very long. Not here. He doubted if he ever would. But he had a promise to keep, he had a responsibility to protect his companion as best he could manage. If that meant saving food for her, saving water for her, then so be it; if that meant barely sleeping to make sure no one showed up in the night to threaten her, then so be it.

But he wasn't perfect. He was far from tireless and it was beginning to show.

Their pace had dwindled as they neared the city in the distance, the first real landmarks they'd seen and the first good thing William had seen in a while; a city would mean stores and maybe stores meant better supplies than bread and water and slightly stale chips and boiled river water in a warped plastic bottle. Of course, as they came ever closer and made their way through the streets and past the storefronts with a look of abandonment upon them, there was a sight to behold for two pair of sore eyes; a familiar face for the both of them, just there in the distance. Waving his arms and calling out to them like a little kid.

Peter.

It hadn't taken much more than that to bring forth a second wind in the boy as they closed the gap. There wasn't much in the way of words to express just how happy Will was to see that it really was Peter, that he hadn't hallucinated or dreamed it. But they weren't out of the woods yet and no amount of celebration would remove that memory from Will's mind.

Hearing Peter's name on the announcement.

"Peter?"

He eyed the weapons his dear friend held.

"What happened? I mean, with Lucas. Did you really...?"
Boy #??? - Joshua Edwards
Hanging out somewhere, playing his heart out.
Writer and local retail slave at the comic book store.

Girl #??? - Viktoriya "Vika" Starikova
Floating in the void, unfinished and half-formed.
Hot headed member of the soft ball team, secretly wishing she could fly.

Those who were
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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Eiko Haraguchi continued from Not an Easy Out))

Once again, Eiko was left with no one but Peter for company. She was getting better at keeping up with him on their hikes, but she had to adjust for carrying her new weapon, a polearm that looked like a barbed trident, only with two prongs, which were little more than half the size of those on a standard trident. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to keep around a weapon that she didn't know how to use, but really, what choice did she have?

She was surprised that Peter hadn't seemed to notice it at all. His killing of the other boy probably still worried him, and on a few occasions during the night that followed she caught him sneaking a sip from his metal bottle.

Things were going her way at last. Peter finally took her advice and decided to head toward the residential district on the map, so that the two of them could have a bed or at least a floor to sleep on. Hours after the blood on Peter's body had dried up, they finally found a house. The furnishings were spartan, as to be expected, but they were still furnishings.

Eiko was about to lie down on the house's only bed when she took a look at Peter and realized that he looked like he was about to collapse. She graciously let him sleep in first, giving her time to think and make her own preparations. First, she took out a thermos full of Darjeeling tea and gave it a few sips. It tasted heavenly, but it seemed like she barely got started drinking when she felt congested, hot tears running down her face.

She missed eating lunch in the cafeteria at Bayview, searching for tables with people she'd never met and sitting near them, easing herself into the conversations. She missed her mother's cooking, which was more variable than the food served in the cafeteria, as well as having a more personal touch. Even if she preserved the food, waiting a week before eating it, it would still be the best thing she ever had. But she'd eaten the lovingly packed bento the day before, and now all that was left of home was her tea. She took a collection of her favorite packets with her, thinking she'd get to share them with people at the camp site.

Now she just had Peter. And it seemed that tea was not his drink of choice.

It took her a while to steel herself up and keep moving. After checking to make sure that Peter was still asleep, she opened his daypack and examined his supplies. She sighed and divvied up the rations she got from the boy between the two of them; it would buy them at least another day apiece before they started to starve.

Eiko also got a closer look at Peter's weapon, a thick sword with a curved edge. It looked positively bulky compared to the Japanese swords she was used to, and uglier as well. It looked sharp enough; she didn't want to test it to know for sure.

The gun was less promising. It seemed awfully light, at least to Eiko's limited knowledge, and she didn't see any other bullets in Peter's pack. She have any herself, which meant that there was only one clip (or whatever you called it) at their disposal. Less, actually, since the boy had fired several shots without reloading.

Until night fell and Peter woke up, she racked her brain trying to think of where to go from there. The only answer she could come up with essentially amounted to divine providence; it would all depend on who they met next. She slept like a rock until the announcements woke her back up.

She'd lost count of the number of students who'd died thus far. It had to be at least fifty. Weirdly enough, the only thing that she could concentrate on was not the names, but on the psychology that lead to their deaths. How many of them just pulled the trigger at the wrong time? How many planned their murders out in advance? How many just lost control for a minute? She didn't know. And she didn't know what sort of mental history everyone else kept concealed.

Not that her own was beyond question.

She looked at Peter as he once again took a swig of that foul swill he kept in his bottle, and left the building, sword in tow. As he kept watch outside the building, Eiko watched him, trying to assure herself that Peter wouldn't be the one to break up their partnership.

Some time later, he saw something, and ran after it. Eiko poked her head out of the doorway to see Hearst and Baker walking towards him. The three of them looked glad to see each other, like a family once separated by an earthquake, and here Eiko was, the proverbial third wheel.

The celebration would have to wait, though, as Hearst brought up Peter's mention on the announcement. Eiko felt it necessary to step forward then.

"It was self-defense," she told Hearst, taking her place at Peter's side. "He tried to shoot me, and that only happened because Bradley provoked him. Ericka Bradley."
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

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

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

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
There had been a lot of running, followed by a lot of walking. William never stopped; he just kept taking step after step and Tiffany knew that she had to follow. If she stopped, she'd be left behind; left to fend for herself. She didn't know if she could handle that. If she stopped, she'd need to face facts.

Peter had killed somebody.

Tiffany wasn't going to stop to ponder it. She wasn't going to let doubt and fear paralyze her. She knew that Peter was doing something good, and somebody died because of it; that he wasn't a murderer. Just like William. She trusted William, and she trusted Peter.

Their pace had slowed, after that mad dash from the beach. William himself seemed adamant on moving forward, as tired as he must be. She wasn't going to tell him to stop; she wasn't willing to do that herself. So they kept moving, over fallen branches and sparse foliage. Then they saw signs of civilization.

Or what had been civilization. The small town that had once been on the island had been long abandoned. Where the streets might have once been moving with the daytime bustle, it now stood empty of life. Except for the man at the end of the street who was waving his arms in their direction. He was holding what might have been a gun; Tiffany wasn't sure if it was exactly the best idea to be heading in that direction. He was also yelling something at them.

The sound of the voice dissolved all doubts she had.

William had come to the same conclusion he had, and was starting to run toward him as well. Tiffany followed suit, her training allowing her to pull ahead and reach her friend first. Peter had such a goofy smile on his face, it made Tiffany feel like she hadn't ever been on this island. It also made her want to hit him for making her worry. Instead she did the next best thing: she caught her friend in a tight embrace in an attempt to hug the worry out of him.

Peter tried to say something, but could only manage to choke out a few words. He sounded just as glad to see her as she did him. His arms reached around and returned the hug, though not with as much enthusiasm as she had. Still, it was more than what he'd normally do whenever she hugged him, and she glowed with that realization. It was a moment she felt she could stay in forever.

William caught up shortly after, too quick for Tiffany's comfort. The two friends broke off the embrace and Peter looked to William with the same goofy grin. Tiffany felt a pang of jealousy; she wanted to feel special in his eyes.

The brief radiance of their meeting was dashed when William broke through the smiles and started to ask Peter about what had happened with Lucas. Why did he have to bring it up? Tiffany could see the gloom creep across Peter's face: he hadn't been happy to be confronted about it either. "I'm sure it was a misunderstanding," Tiffany said, moving slightly to interpose herself between William and Peter. "Or Lucas attacked first. Peter is not a killer." Tiffany could feel her voice waver as she said the words. She wanted so badly for it to be true, and she was so afraid of what would happen if she was wrong.

Would Peter kill her? Had Peter been warped by this sick imitation of a game?

Another voice, a girl's voice piped up from behind her. Tiffany turned to see an asian girl about her own height standing next to Peter. Where had she come from? The voice, Tiffany recognized as belonging to the new transfer student, Eiko Haraguchi. She was a polite girl, but Tiffany had never made any strong rapport with her. But now, Eiko was defending Peter, saying that Peter had acted in self-defense, in protecting himself and Eiko.

She saw the way Peter shifted and glanced at Eiko. Wary, cautious, and focused, not on the girl but on everything around them. His face was etched with concern and he attempted to wordlessly direct Eiko behind him. Had Tiffany seen this kind of behaviour before? Maybe. Back when Peter had first come to Bayview, he had developed a little crush on a sophomore. It was kind of cute how protective he could be back then.

Now Tiffany just thought it was ridiculous. Peter was supposed to protect her. She didn't want to be replaced.




People always brought up the most uncomfortable subjects. It was why Peter wasn't a conversationalist. People just liked to talk about things that he had no interest in talking about himself. Maybe it was an uncomfortable subject like sex, or a topic that he just knew nothing about like US politics. Usually, Peter would just stay quiet or try to lead the conversation to a different topic.

That wouldn't work now.

Tiffany and Eiko both stood up for him, professing the virtue of his actions or making justifications. The thought was there, but Peter knew they were wrong. Peter had killed Lucas, and there was nothing that was going to change it. "Look, I don't like what happened, but it did. I had to do it."
Liar. I didn't have to do it. He'd have died anyway
Peter looked at the weapons in his hands. They probably didn't make him look all the more believable. He lowered them to his sides. "I was just trying to help. Trying to protect Eiko. Lucas was going to kill people. I needed to stop him." Peter looked down at his feet. The blood that had stained it had started to get crusty. "Can we not talk about this? I'm not going to hurt you guys. You should know this. Let's not make a big deal out of it." His eyes rose to look at Will. "Will, I'm not going to ask you about what happened with Trevor. I trust that you're not going to hurt me or Eiko, so let's just drop this whole thing."
He could be just waiting for an opening to kill me. I don't even know what weapon he has..
The idea that Will could be just as much a killer wasn't something Peter wanted to dwell on. Already, the possibilities were formulating in his head. Always ending with more blood, more pain, more death. He put his weapons down and fished the flask from his pocket. He'd been trying to ration it out, but he'd already cleared at least a quarter of the vodka. One day, he'd have to face the demons he kept running from. The alcohol wasn't an answer, but it sure as hell helped.

It had started to feel like less burning now as he sipped from the flask. Still tasted like old plastic though.

Peter looked at Will: he looked dirty, beat-up, and exhausted. Tiffany didn't appear to be in much better shape. He gave a light sigh. He could feel the alcohol-induced smile already forcefully start to stretch across his face. "You guys look like hell. Take a little break. The house we picked out isn't too shabby, at least the bed isn't rock hard. And it's safe here; haven't seen a soul besides you guys since yesterday."

Picking up the sword and gun, Peter started back toward the door. He had planned getting to be moving for another place by now, but his friends needed rest, and they weren't going to be able to keep up if they didn't. Just going to have to push everything back a few hours. No biggie.

((Peter Siu and Tiffany Baker continued elsewhere))
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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Dr. Nic
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How cute.
[ *  * ]
[Sorry for the delay on this, writer's block and home repair made for slow writing.]

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

But he had to bring it up and ask Peter about what had happened. After all, there was no way for William to know what went on without asking about it and despite all the trust he wanted to believe he held in the people he cared about, he still had to fight with the paranoia and anxiety that gave rise to his doubts. Even if he didn't want to, he still harbored doubts about Peter after hearing his name on the announcements; really, what else could he do? He promised to protect Tiffany and had long since cemented in his mind the need to do whatever it took to protect her. But even after hearing so many names he recognized get called out over those announcements, he didn't really think about what would happen if the people he cared for most had turned into killers. Will didn't really know if he was capable of protecting Tiffany from the people they cared about most; the people they didn't ever think they would need protection from.

But wasn't William one of those very people?

I mean, his name had been on the announcements just like Peter's. Was Peter wondering about Will, wondering if he was nothing more than a killer now, a cold blooded murderer who had simply gone ahead and killed someone because they could? No, no he couldn't be thinking that... could he? Of course he could, it was the exact same thing William had been worrying about, so why would Peter be any different? Because it was Peter? He was still human, just like Will, he still had doubts and worries and paranoid thoughts that could drive him to do any number of things to protect himself or the ones closest to him. Hell, William had already come to that conclusion himself, whats to say that Peter hasn't as well? Could he really trust someone who might not trust him?

But then... what about Tiffany?

He didn't trust Tiffany enough to tell her the truth about Trevor, so if he couldn't trust Peter because he might not trust William, why would Tiffany have to trust William if he didn't trust her enough? He was just standing there now not really saying anything going through all this crap in his head as Peter took a swig from his flask to down some more vodka, escape from this hell just a little bit more with every sip. But there William was caught up in his own paranoia and confusion and anxiety and uncertainty and every other little thing that came forth from the back of his mind and he just wanted it all to--

Stop!

There wasn't much movement or anything coming from William as they stood in awkward silence, at least until Peter spoke up again and suggested they all take a break in the house they'd been holed up in for a while. Yeah... a break would be nice. Time to relax and a moment to rest, to take his mind off of everything and sort it all out. He didn't want to sit there and think about not trusting Peter and Tiffany. If he followed the advice they had given them when this had all begun, about not trusting anyone, how would they get out of this alive? He had to trust his friends and he simply needed to hope that they trusted him too. Despite everything that had happened or would come to happen, trust was the only thing that would keep them alive and keep them together. As long as they trusted each other, they could survive this... right?

Either way, it looked like it was his turn to speak. Just act normally, smile, calm down and relax. That's it...

"That is the best idea I've heard in a while. It feels like we've been through hell, so looking like it makes sense."

The time they spent resting was relatively uneventful; they sat around and relaxed for a while, exchanging some idle chatter. It was a bit more somber on William's side early on but eventually, the mood improved and things were a lot more enjoyable between all of them. But it wouldn't last forever and they weren't spending the rest of the night there in that house; they had something to do elsewhere and they would need to head out soon. Despite his desire to stay and spend the night, he knew he would have to go with Tiffany and Peter; if he split up from them, then what would he do? Tiffany was all he had and certainly the only one who would trust him now that his name had been on the announcements. If he was left on his own... who knew what would happen?

So William went with them when it came time to leave. Wherever they were headed.

[Boy #61 - William Hearst. Continued in It's Everything's Nature to Fall.]
Edited by Dr. Nic, Nov 29 2010, 03:09 PM.
Boy #??? - Joshua Edwards
Hanging out somewhere, playing his heart out.
Writer and local retail slave at the comic book store.

Girl #??? - Viktoriya "Vika" Starikova
Floating in the void, unfinished and half-formed.
Hot headed member of the soft ball team, secretly wishing she could fly.

Those who were
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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
[ *  *  *  * ]
((So sorry for holding things up.))

As Peter moved back into the house, Eiko sighed, eventually walking in after the other three people did. She sat back down and talked to the group's newcomers, exchanging small talk with the both of them.

She learned (possibly for the second time) that Tiffany Baker was a cheerleader and a member of GodSPEED. She threw away her gun at the start of the game and spent her time looking for Peter and generally just trying to get by, much like Eiko was. William Hearst... he was a bit different. His name had been in the announcements, for one. Eiko remembered the fact as soon as Will confessed to having been forced to kill. She supposed he had no choice but to accept her and Peter's explanation for his own kill. He'd been through the same thing himself.

Which brought her to the game-winning quesiton: could she trust either of them? Tiffany she had no real doubts about. The fact that she threw away a gun was enough to convince Eiko of her sincerity. As for William, she did suppose it was possible for him to pretend to be altruistic, but for now, Eiko thought he was dependable.

So when nighttime fell, why did sleep come to her reluctantly?

((Eiko continued in It's Everything's Nature To Fall))

((Thread over.))
Edited by Solitair, Nov 28 2010, 12:52 AM.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

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

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

V4:
Spoiler: click to toggle


V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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