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The Moment of Truth; Open
Topic Started: Dec 22 2010, 03:53 AM (3,166 Views)
laZardo
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((I should probably have warned you beforehand about this. Mea maxima culpa.))

For what felt like several weeks though it probably hadn't even been 24 hours, Cisco Vasquez suffered in silence. And it was all for a mistake he regretted making the moment he made it, although given the unpredictability of human nature above depression and other mental disorders he didn't exactly regret it continously.

Sure, people made bigger mistakes. Like neo-Nazis in the SOTF roleplaying forums set up by sick twisted fans from the Philippines or some other country in buttfuck nowhere that always died for reasons stupider than in real life. But those mistakes immediately got them killed, rather than left in a prolonged state of...whatever this agony felt like. The kind of agony where he couldn't help but wonder how Death would have its inevitable vengeance for his sudden and violent act of disobedience.

The fact that he had apparently left his bag, leaving him with only his precious 'music' - in reality a bloodied, tarnished circular sawblade tucked neatly into the dirtied sleeve that once held a vinyl record, was only the prelude to that punishment. Sure, he managed to get her to share a sip or a bite every now and then but other than that he tried to avoid saying anything, hoping and whimpering to himself often that Joseé would lead him back to Joe and in some miraculous chance help him reconcile before the two of them reaped her (with that first 'e',' he reminded himself) together.

Running into his eternal arch-nemesis Mike Maszer, unfortunately, did absolutely nothing to calm his mind. Neither, apparently, did what transpired next.


"Do you see...what I see?"

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king...

Suddenly it was like a merry motherfucking christmas from Satan as Cisco's gaze traced the length of Mike's arm toward the object he pointed to.

It was a motherfucking boat. The kind of aquatic device used for fishing, leisurely cruises on the Riviera, and violent escape attempts from a game where everybody had to kill each other. And he knew how it went the last time it happened. Or at least part of it. He never really got the end of it, and neither did everyone else watching. But that was beside the point.

It was a motherfucking boat, and Mike was pointing at it with the clear intent of fucking with the game on it. And considering what happened to the others that tried (or because of those that tried), it wasn't hard for this sad little second-stringer to think that Death had finally found the perfect way to fuck with him.

It was a motherfucking boat, and Cisco could only watch as Mike pointed every fucking camera at the damn thing and go on in some inspiring speech that just somehow begged for inspiring background music. He found himself clinging to his record tighter than ever, which was saying quite a bit because apart from impromptu shitting breaks his bloodied arms had practically calcified around it. And that wasn't counting the temptation to try to use his 'music' on Mike the same way he did with Katelyn (his first reaped soul, according to a past announcement).

Then, Mike turned to speak to them. Apparently one of the football team members had also been attracted to the key, but despite his obviously looming figure Cisco hadn't noticed him up to that point. And speaking of points...

"Okay guys, to the point...Do you want to help me find more clues about this island's location? Or at least, did you found something like that name, which would help us, during those last four days?"

Right now it seemed that only Mike Maszer had any clue exactly where the fuck they were, in literal terms. Cisco knew pretty much where he was too...on the road to a proper fucking.

"Mike...I wanna know..." he began, what came next punctuated by what felt like a flood of depression he'd been holding back, "what the fuck are you doing?!"

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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laZardo
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((Anti-inactivity post. Well, since Mike is asking Cisco...))

"What am I doing Cisco?" Mike replied, quite irritated, "Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to get out of here. I'd rather take the chance and risk dying for that, rather than sit on my ass, and hope for one to two hundred chance to be the sole survivor. Especially, since I'm not going to..."

Mike then stopped. And for some strange reason, it was almost as if both of them knew exactly what he was going to end his sentence with. And that meant his cover, or whatever pitiful excuse passed for whatever cover he was thinking of at the moment, was blown like half the men on Rosa Fiametta's block.

"Actually, no... Scratch that. You better tell me, what the fuck are YOU doing. I heard the announcement..."

For the first time since - well, only the last time it got cold at night - Cisco started to tremble. If he wasn't going to die from Mike attempting to carry out his plan, he was probably going to die if Mike decided to prevent him from stopping it.

"I was just following orders!" he whimpered, the classic Nuremberg trial line a blatant lie even to Cisco, knowing quite well that what he did was defying orders, however much of a charade those were themselves. "Death...Joe...I was reaping souls for him..." Yet, as the defendants themselves once preached, the more he repeated that delusion to himself, the more he believed it as truth. Especially when one was already mentally unstable and left on a desert island to kill people. That didn't stop him from taking an accusing stare at Mike, though.

"I don't wanna die...I don't wanna die..." he then repeated, more to himself than to Mike, as he slowly slid one hand into his record sleeve. The only advantage he had at this point was that Mike didn't know (either) that there was a bloodied circular sawblade lodged in that record sleeve. He figured that if he drew it out and threw it quick enough, he could take Mike's head clean off before he could draw some kind of gleaming chrome pistol and plant one through his face.

"I don't want you to kill me..."
Edited by laZardo, Jan 27 2011, 10:31 AM.

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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laZardo
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((Where'd Sunny go?))

"Come on Cisco, calm down, no-one's going to hurt you. He didn't mean to kill her, I saw it myself, it was all a stupid accident."

Cisco whimpered incoherently to himself as Josee Tremblay wrapped his arm around him. He just couldn't bring himself to try to replicate his feat, however miraculously unlikely it was to pull off in the first place. His hand remained in that record sleeve, his fingertips making their way across the dried bloodstains on once-shiny metal. The alternating texture of smoothness and a slight stickiness did little to calm him as much as that warm embrace. And for those few, fleeting moments, it felt like what he did really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"Okay, look... As you may already noticed, my escape plan is bloodless, and I have no intention of hurting anyone, unless in self defense. So you can both calm down..."

It was that moment of calm that essentially helped his mind lose track of what he wanted to do or say. Or at least focus on it a little less than he did a moment ago.

"Anyway, I'm going to continue with my plan. You like it? Feel free to go with me. Don't like it? Go the other way. After all, no one 'orders' you to stay with me..."

Nobody was ordering Cisco to leave, either. He couldn't exactly 'hear' what Death had planning for his insubordination. He couldn't think of any way to make up for it, at least not when he was looking almost feline trying to enjoy that embrace of hers.

"I want to go to the broken cell phone tower next. It had to be built for a certain phone company, so if we'll learn which one, maybe that will narrow down things a bit. If you have a better idea though, then I'm all ears."

And he definitely did not have a "better idea" to even enhance his self-preservation. Maybe he had subliminally passed that point of no return - or no hope in his case. Maybe death was something best enjoyed coming at him. Or for the time being, goddamn did that arm around him feel good. Almost invigorating. It wasn't hard to tell he'd tag along just to get more of it.
Edited by laZardo, Feb 13 2011, 01:02 PM.

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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laZardo
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((Now Yossarian's gone too... D: ))

"I'm with you then, we all want to get off this Hell of an island... And if I find my idiot brother in the process, then that's just all the better for me. Right Cisco?"

Her smile. God, she was like an angel. Or just a really good trainer. Maybe it was because that smile made the offer seem a lot less like a hastened death than a chance to redeem himself for his transgressions against the Reaper. But one thing Cisco could definitely wrap his mind around was the fact that it made him feel a little less tense. It made him feel calm, helping with the way she seemed to pet him.

"Yeah...uh...let's do this..." he murmured.

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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laZardo
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Whoa boy, it ain't gonna be pretty. We have to go south-east, through the entire swamp, and then through the woods... Which are apparently a danger zone right now....Well, I guess we better get going. It's getting late. Let's hope the woods will be safe, as we'll come across them. Otherwise, we'll have to make a detour, and lose even more time."


Cisco looked back into the woods again, swiftly becoming a near-pitch-black vortex that no Hollywood glampire movie could save. No, this was the kind of near-pitch-black more reminiscent of those snuff flicks that people circulated around the internet. The same kind of flicks that whoever dropped them here would then circulate for amusement or profit, and goddamn if Cisco didn't want to be the star as the hero or the victim.

"We'll both need to keep a look out for him Cisco, so keep your eye's peeled. I want to find him before he gets himself hurt....But if he takes another shot at you, just scream for me, I'll take care of the twit."

"I won't do that..." Cisco purred, not having completely come down from his petting-induced high, "Why would I want to do that?"

But they had to move anyway. It was getting dark and goddamn if he didn't want to be lost by himself in the middle of goddamn nowhere with nothing but a goddamn metal circle to protect him against Death and all his minions. At least if he had these two around him, he could at least take them down with him.

"Well, I guess we better get going. It's getting late. Let's hope the woods will be safe, as we'll come across them. Otherwise, we'll have to make a detour, and lose even more time."

Cisco took another look into those woods. It was the kind of sight that would sober a drunk, the kind that could give small children nightmares and make teenagers feel like the victims in some horror movie. Which - like the snuff movie analogy - fit just as well.

"Try not to lose eye contact with each other, and if you do - scream. We don't want to get separated along the way..."

No. We don't want that again. We don't want to displease Death more than we already have. he thought - and muttered - to himself as he scampered trembling back into the forest with his new ferryman for the river Styx.

((Cisco Vasquez continued in Aching Chest and Blurry Sight))
Edited by laZardo, Mar 21 2011, 01:15 PM.

Unfucked: Cisco Vasquez (V4)
Proper Fucked: Harris Van Allen (The Program), Rashid Hassan (V4)
Fucked Soon: Carlos Lazaro and Eliza Patton
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