Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Survival of the Fittest, a RPing board loosely based off of Koshun Takami's Battle Royale, with its own unique plot and spin on the 'deadly game'. We've been around quite a while, and are now in our thirteenth year, so don't worry about us going anywhere any time soon!

If you're a newcomer and interested in joining, then please make sure you check out the rules. You may also want to read the FAQ, introduce yourself and stop by the chat to meet some of our members. If you're still not quite sure where to start, then we have a great New Member's Guide with a lot of useful information about getting going. Don't hesitate to PM a member of staff (they have purple usernames) if you have any questions about SOTF and how to get started!

Let the games begin!

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Blackout; Private thread between Kimberly Nguyen and Liz Polanski (with possible guest appearance by ???)
Topic Started: Dec 24 2010, 05:07 PM (3,658 Views)
Grim Wolf
Member Avatar
The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Mirabelle Nesa continued from The Middle Children of History)

She's caught her break when she'd stumbled onto the first of the destroyed cameras.

A quick run to the Sawmill, rifling through the bags of the fallen. Some of those crappy, cardboard-tasting rations; some of the water, as yet unopened; and then, quick as she could, off across the island, hunting.

She had to here somewhere. And Belle had to find her.

She moved with desperation, with anxiety, with hope and fear. If she'd been killed since the Morning Announcements, Belle was well and truly fucked. She couldn't think up something like this on her own; she didn't have that kind of skill, that kind of knowledge. She needed someone who did, and someone who had used it successfully before.

She needed Liz Polanski. She needed someone to help her through.

She lost them, for awhile--she found one, then two, then three, but then she lost them, and she couldn't find a single one. She ran frantically here and there, trying to find something, anything, that showed her what she needed to-

She found an entrance to the Tunnels, and without a second thought she descended into the darkness.

There would be time for thoughts of Samantha Ridley and Garrett Hunter later. For now, she was going to get out, and Liz Polanksi was going to help her do it.

The tunnels were labyrinthine and intricate; she could see and feel nothing. She turned on her flashlight without a thought for her own safety; she ignored the two bodies she found, stepping over them.

She had been content to fight. Now that contentment was gone; Samantha Ridely had taken it from her. She was going to live, and Liz Polanski was going to make that happen.

There was someone there. Someone not dead.

Belle stopped moving.

She was wearing all black. She had metal in her face. She had severe burn marks around her neck. And she was pointing a gun at Mirabelle.

Belle recognized her. Seen her in the halls, they'd shared a math class.

"Liz," she said, and as she said it something burst in heart, a warm something she hadn't felt since she'd stood over Garrett's unconscious body all those days ago. "You're...you're alive."

Drink in the reality. She'd actually found the girl she was looking for. She had, Samantha Ridley to the contrary, actually done something right.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Grim Wolf
Member Avatar
The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Yeah," Liz said. She seemed as surprised as Belle, and for a little while neither of them moved. Belle, for one, had no desire to piss Liz off--she had the gun, after all, and anyways she was going to need Liz to help her if she was going to escape.

Although the burns on her neck...

Belle was saved from having to think anymore by Liz herself. "Oh, yeah," Belle said weakly. "No, I..." She trailed off as she realized that the other girl was barely standing, teetering back and forth, and while the gun was still in a position to shoot her Belle didn't care. She had done too damn little on this island, she had, after a week, finally found some(thing)one that gave her a sense of purpose and she was not going to let her collapse in this darkness.

"Yeah," Belle repeated, taking three quick steps and slipping in under Liz's shoulder to keep her upright. "Hold on." She maneuvered Liz to one of the walls and laid her gently against it, pulling her bag off her shoulder and digging around for food. "I ran out awhile ago," she continued, just trying to keep talking, to stem off worry or thought. "But some, uh..." She swallowed. "Some of the people who..." She faltered again and shook her head. "There was some stuff left," she said. "I took what I could."

She offered Liz a slice of stale bread.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Grim Wolf
Member Avatar
The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
They sat in silence. Belle kept her flashlight on; the thought that she might be in danger as a result didn't even occur to her. She simply didn't want to sit in the dark; she wanted to take in the full reality of her circumstances, to feel the danger and life of her decision.

She helped Liz, as the other, injured girl ate. She pulled the bag off her shoulder, set it next to hers. Didn't look through it; she didn't want to antagonize the girl she was relying on.

Without any warning, Liz sat up and got to her feet. She had a pen and paper underneath one arm; she pulled these out and scrawled something out on it. It took Belle a moment to work out the haphazard scrawl, though she was admittedly distracted by how tired and hurt the goth girl looked. The message itself--the question--took another few seconds to register. Why would Liz need Belle's permission to destroy the cameras? It was what she'd been doing, and it wasn't like they could...

Oh.

Belle's hand fluttered towards the collar around her neck (bound like a dog, those sons of bitches) and then back down to her knee. She took in a steadying breath and focused on Master Xiang--to fight is to be out of peace to fight is to lose to flow is to be at your center to flow is victory in itself. She focused on her father (they'll try and goad you into being aggressive, Belle, and you need to watch for that, you need every advantage you can get) and her mother (risk is inherent in dreams you don't get to pick and choose and even if you lose you gained something if you accepted the possibility of loss).

She had sought out Liz Polanski herself. She was not going to back down now that there was danger.

Belle nodded.

In spite of her attempts to reassure herself, Belle was never more terrified than when Liz made her way around their little cavern room, knifing each camera in turn. Each crackling stab was an electric thrill in Belle's stomach, a flare of adrenaline that made all her limbs feel weak. She could taste the flat, dead rush on her tongue...

Her collar did not go off. She did not end up a decapitated, bleeding wreck. She was, in fact, quite alive.

Liz returned and tossed a crumpled sheet of paper at Belle's bag. Belle started to move for it before she saw that Liz had started to write something on her notepad again. Belle read each message in turn.

Okay.

Belle glanced down to the plan Liz had offered her. It was interesting; she could get rid of this damn collar, she could rebel, she could wander the dangerzones and keep away from the players. She could, in fact, become unstoppable. She could survive.

But that wouldn't be victory. Not really.

"You're clearly smarter than I am, Liz," Belle said. "So I'll assume the stupidity you're displaying is a result of how tired you are and not of actual mental disadvantage." She smiled. "They have offered a bounty on you, Liz. They are going to come hunting. The one who kills you may survive."

She broke off.

"This can wait, however," Belle said thoughtfully. "Because you look quite tired and I need you alive if you're going to get us out of here. So, here's what you're going to do. You are going to sit back down, and you are going to take these clothes," and she dug out the old clothes she had stored in her bag from when she'd changed into her martial arts gi. "And make yourself as comfortable as possible. You are going to get two hours of sleep, at least. And when you wake up, I'm going to tell you what I need from you." Liz opened her mouth to protest and Belle shook her head, her eyes flaring. "I won't lie to you and say I won't force myself on you, because god damn it I'm betting everything on you, but you look rough. So." She pointed down to the clothes she'd arranged in makeshift bed on the ground. "You are going to sleep," Belle ordered. "And we will talk when you wake up."

She needed Liz Polanski to be less of a wreck. That was the only way any of them were making it out of this alive.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Grim Wolf
Member Avatar
The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"You're welcome," Belle said, smiling at the rather-battered girl now dozing off. She grabbed the mud-splattered summer dress she'd woken up in her first day on the island and tossed it over Liz; it wasn't likely to be much of a blanket, but Belle didn't think she had anything else to offer. Did she?

She checked her bag, rifling through it's overstuffed contents. She should probably get rid of some of it, she thought, but she wasn't sure what to get rid of. Many of her excess clothes she'd already discarded--no need to keep the boys entertained when several of them would likely kill her on sight--but the bag was still a bit too heavy. Belle had some endurance, no doubt about that, but she wasn't sure she could carry this much...

Her fingers trailed over glass, and she frowned and pulled out the object in question. It was a bottle of wine--the one her mother, Belle remembered, had stowed into her bag.

Bittersweet thought, that. Her mother only drank wine when she'd been looking over her manuscripts.

Sitting in the darkness with a bottle of wine in one hand, Belle looked up towards the ceiling and sighed.

She had found Liz Polanski. There was something to be glad of, right? She had found Liz, Liz was alive, Liz was making plans and fighting the system. This was everything Belle wanted.

And she still wasn't sure it was enough.

She leaned heavily against one of the rough tunnel walls, still staring at the invisible ceiling above her. Awakening in this place had been a nightmare Belle had no desire to repeat--that sense of complete helplessness, of terrible fear. To be afraid for one's life wasn't what she had imagined it to be; it wasn't a fear of death. It was an instantaneous and total sense of loss--not only of her life but of her dreams, of her potential experiences. Everything she might do or feel was at risk, and she had felt that risk as a yawning gulf deep within her heart.

Until she'd put on her gi. Until she'd remembered that the only thing she'd ever wanted to do was fight.

And what vindication! Finding Garrett again, taking him down, and taking him down hard; leaving his arrogant ass out in the wind to suffer unconscious. When she'd won, she'd lost some of her doubt; when she'd won, she'd thought she could do as she needed to do.

Except there was Jackie. And Samantha Ridley.

Grimacing, Belle set the bottle down and pulled her bag closer to her, digging around until she found a hairpin. After a few tries, she managed to uncork the wine. She took a long pull to quiet the flutter of rage and doubt in her stomach.

Samantha Ridley. Christ.

What Samantha Ridley was doing was wrong, Belle had no doubt of that. But in spite of her certainty, Jackie had been willing to take Samantha's offer--Jackie had been willing to die. Samantha had accommodated her, but the act--the surrender--had all been Jackie's. And in Samantha Ridley's mind, she was doing them a favor.

Belle took another pull, savoring the aftertaste and the sweet ache of a regret.

Why hadn't Belle paid attention?

No answer was immediately forthcoming. Liz was asleep, and anyways Belle wasn't going to trouble her with entirely personal concerns--Liz looked like she'd gone through enough already, exhausted as she was and with those burns on her necks. Belle fingered the collar around her neck, wondering if that was the only way to disable them. She considered herself to be fairly tough, but she didn't think she could handle that much pain.

Darkness, and doubts, and questions.

I can't forgive Samantha Ridley.

The thought came like a bullet, shocked her out of the half-doze she was in. She sat up a little straighter. Why? She'd let Samantha go; she'd spent the past two days thinking about what she'd said and what she'd done. She had let Samantha go because she had been ashamed of her own anger, of her blindness to the problems of those around her. Samantha had at least acknowledged Jackie, even if that acknowledgement consisted of a fatal arrow.

Samantha wasn't evil, just misguided. Everyone on this island, every killer and every victim, was the same. Maybe the things some had done were monstrous, but none of it would have been possible without the actions of the ones who'd brought them here. Danya was the true evil; every time she got caught up in petty grudges and anger, she gave him a victory. She was only going to make it off this island if she could this collar off and break Danya; to do that, she would have to rise above herself, above her fury and her stupidity.

But Samantha Ridley and those like her could not be forgiven. It wasn't a question of circumstance; they had accepted Danya's terms as their own, and had chosen to play his game. Belle might be stupid, but she wasn't weak; she'd avoided getting trapped in that idiocy.

She wasn't going to let her dreams die here. She wasn't going to let the dreams of others die here. And she sure as hell wasn't going to allow Samantha Ridley to kill so freely, so completely devoid of guilt.

Liz started to stir besides her. Belle glanced over, frowning, and then looked at the bottle of wine in her hand. She waited a moment or two, then whispered, "Liz?"

A moment of silence. "Yeah?" the other girl croaked.

Belle swallowed. "Wine?" she asked, offering the injured goth some of her bottle. Liz didn't say anything for a few seconds, then shifted and took the bottle from her hands. They passed it back and forth in complete silence, until the bottle had been reduced by about a third.

"I came looking for you," Belle said. "I...I can fight, but that's pretty much all I can do." She looked at the bottle in her hands, feeling a bit light-headed. "And there's no shortage of people who can fight, here. Who can fight better than me, if they got any sort of weapon. Much less a gun." She grimaced and looked towards her hands. "I got...I got distracted. I was picking fights I couldn't..." She trailed off. "I want to go after Danya," she said. "He's...all the evil that happens here is his fault. I'm not saying we're blameless, but...but it couldn't have happened if it weren't for him." She looked at her hands.

"I needed to find you, Liz," Belle said simply. "I needed someone who could free me."

She didn't speak for a little while, and neither did Liz.

"I don't know if you've got a bigger plan," Belle continued. "But Danya put a bounty on you, and he hasn't killed me yet. Whatever you're doing, I...I want to help out. Try to protect you. But I've...I've got kind of a thing I need to deal with." Samantha Ridley's face appeared in front of her. "A girl. A killer. We agreed to meet at the Sawmill tomorrow." She shrugged. "If you, uh...if you don't have any plans, I think I need to..." She struggled to find the words. "I can't forgive anyone who could lose that much hope. Enough hope to start-"

A larger evil doesn't mitigate lesser evils. Sins are still sins. And just because she could understand why Samantha had done what she'd done didn't make it any less monstrous.

"If you don't have other plans," Belle continued. "We could head that way."
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Grim Wolf
Member Avatar
The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Liz started writing. Belle grabbed her flashlight, flicked it back on, and peered over her shoulder, but the writing was cramped, hard to read; she frowned at it without really understanding until Liz passed the notes to her.

Alright. Time to read.

As she read, she began to understand. And as she came to understand, she grew progressively more and more excited.

This was what she'd been looking for. This kind of insight, this kind of ability, this kind of audacity. Liz Polanski had not just conceived a plan; she had conceived a plan that forced the sons of bitches responsible for this to pay attention to her and then went farther and hoped they were paying attention to her, so much attention that her fellow classmates would be able to escape, and it didn't matter if she was doing it to be a good person or just to cause as much damage as possible, the point was that she was doing it, she had conceived a plan and enacted it, and by God it was working.

Of course, in order to do make sure it worked, Liz wanted to go somewhere that wasn't the Sawmill.

Liz took her paper back while Belle was thinking about this and wrote out new messages. Belle read them without really thinking about them; most of her thoughts were oriented on Garrett, Samantha, the Sawmill. On taking care of those who'd lost hope. On vengeance, and on doing right.

What was she supposed to do, let Samantha go?

What was she supposed to do, let her selfishness interfere with the greater good?

The answer came to her when Liz dumped her weapons out on the tunnel floor and offered her another message--YOU'RE THE FIGHTER. DIVIDE THESE UP INTELLIGENTLY.

Liz was trusting her. Liz actually believed that she could make a difference, that she might be worth something. Liz, who, alone of the people on the island, had done something to free herself and beat the system.

Alright.

"Take the gun," Belle said immediately. "It'll keep you safe." She grabbed the knives and placed them in the belt she wore around her gi. It was fairly tight, so the knives felt secure. The net gun she took a moment to examine--she needed to figure out how it worked.

"You've been doing a lot more than me, Liz," Belle said simply. She grabbed the cork from the ground, brushed it of, and shoved it back into the bottle--no telling when she might need it in the future. "This is a fact." She put the bottle in her bag and slowly put that on before offering the girl on the ground a hand.

"I'll go where you lead, Liz," Belle said simply. She was trying not to think about Samantha and God it was hard; she'd finally reached some kind of peace over Jackie, and she couldn't allow Samantha to go on killing, but...

She couldn't forgive a lesser evil simply because there was a greater one. But she couldn't be distracted from the greater evil by the lesser. And if she wanted to remember what had become of Jackie...

I should have listened.

Liz would agree to go, if they went to the Sawmill. But Liz had her own plans, and god damn it Liz's plans had sure as hell done more than Belle had.

She hadn't listened then. She sure as hell was listening now.

"You want to go to the Residential Area, or the Mansion?" Belle said. "Let's go. We've got...we've got to do something."

I couldn't take it if we didn't do anything.

She offered Liz her hand.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Enjoy forums? Start your own community for free.
« Previous Topic · The Tunnels · Next Topic »
Add Reply