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And I Need You To Recover ...; Day 6, 10 AM (PM to enter)
Topic Started: Feb 5 2011, 08:55 PM (3,180 Views)
decoy73
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Simon Telamon continued from Meet Again))

((Also, title of thread from "M4 Part II" by Faunts))

Simon hadn't really been keeping track of direction. All he had been doing for the past few hours was replaying the most recent announcement in his head.

"... Someone finally managed to extract a little measure of revenge out of one of our big killers. Clio Gabriella is no more, shot by Tabitha Gweneth. Tabitha Gweneth. That's who had shot Clio. And she had won an award for her actions. He'd have gone back to the scene, except that Clio's body was now in a danger zone, and as much as he loved her, she'd given him one direction:

Live.

That's what Simon was going to do. The question was how. If he just went in with his proverbial guns blazing, he was almost guaranteed to meet Clio's fate, but there was no way he was going to be able to get off the island in any way without killing anybody. The majority of the island was probably looking towards Tabitha more like a hero than a threat, what with taking out one of the top killers on the island ... and there was a little bit of time where Simon had feared Clio would turn on him, so from a standpoint, Tabitha couldn't be blamed.

Why did I have to read the Orestia? Okay, maybe it's that and the fact that I have to plan, but still, nothing I can do about it now. Simon just sat down on the sand and looked out at the ocean in front of him, as he pondered what fate had in store for him.
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[ *  * ]
((Tyler Franklin continued from Just a Kid, Napping))

Tyler was lurking behind some trees as Simon approached in the morning sun. Since he'd vacated the house he was crashing in after a...decidedly surreal meeting with a couple of girls that felt more like a dream...he'd managed to burn through most of the rest of his food, which had put him to the point of scavenging: He was starving, or something very close to it, and it wasn't like there was a McDonalds he could run into for a bite to eat. He wasn't as exhausted as he might have been otherwise, and he was at least somewhat hidden from passers-by in the clump of trees. With the hood of his camo hoodie up to block out direct sunlight and let him get some rest, if not exactly sleep, while he stayed there, Tyler was just...relaxing, perhaps would be the best word for it, though usually when relaxing he wouldn't have also been hoping for someone to appear and give him a source of food.

Thus, when he saw Simon coming along from where he was sitting, mostly concealed by some rocks from Simon's field of vision from what he could tell, Tyler saw a possible meal from a looted bag, or at least possibly a backup weapon to supplement his tire iron, or something else useful. Slipping his hood back to give himself a full field of vision, Tyler made his way towards the new arrival quickly and deliberately...not quite as fast as an outright run or fast jog, but definitely swifter than a walk, as quiet as he could manage, but hopefully not making so much noise as to

"Hey!"

As he got to within a few feet of Simon, Tyler hefted his tire iron, raising it to strike at Simon's side...preferably not a rib or anywhere the damage would be truly permanent if he could help it, but somewhere he'd at least immobilize his opponent for a few minutes to raid his bags.

One or two swings, I'll take what I can, and get the hell out of here before he gets up...
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"Hey!" The shout brought Simon's attention back to the real world as he got up and turned just in time to see ...

What the ...

"Urngh!" The metal rod struck Simon under his rib cage, knocking almost all the wind out of him and nearly knocking him onto his knees. It was only by some miracle that all Simon did was stumble to his left, trying to refocus himself through the pain.

What the hell? He looked at the black-haired guy with what looked like a tire iron. Is this guy serious? Simon caught a glimpse of the guy. Lanky, dressed in a camouflage sweatshirt, and tall. Not a lot to go by, but it was enough so that Simon was able to run forward and swing a punch at the guy's gut.

This is what I get for trying to get some rest after losing my girlfriend.
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"Urngh!"

Simon recoverd well enough from getting a tire iron to his gut, and as Tyler wound up his second swing in an attempt to finish the fight, he found himself on the recieving end of a punch that caused him to lose the swing he was planning as he winced at Simon's fist connecting with his gut.

Still, Tyler was able to take a rushed swing at Simon in an attempt to drive the other, surprisingly resilient, kid back. He was really hoping for something other than a protracted, damaging brawl, but that wish seemed far less likely to come true now...and his second swing wasn't nearly as strong as the first one, but it's still a swing with a tire iron.

So much for a quick knockout...
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Tyler winced at Simon's punch. Good. Now get the message and stay away. Of course, Simon was forgetting that Tyler had a tire iron, which was made of some sort of metal, and that hadn't come into mind when Tyler swung again, hitting Simon in the arm, but this one wasn't nearly as strong, and the pain subsided much quicker.

Dammit, what is wrong with this guy?

Simon moved back a couple steps and leaned forward as he charged the taller boy in a bull rush, hoping that it would do something to at least take some of the fight out the guy.

...

Simon, at this point, wasn't really thinking anything. He had gone from trying to think it through to pure instinct, just like he had to deal with when wrestling. Whether it would help, however, that was an unknown at the time.
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[ *  * ]
As Simon charged Tyler in a bull rush, Tyler went crashing backwards, dropping his tire iron as a pile of Tyler-and-Simon goes tumbling to the ground. Without the tire iron, Tyler was reduced to trying to punch and grapple at Simon: Even if he still had the iron in hand, it wasn't like he could use it.

The two tumbled backwards, and Tyler attempted a right hook at Simon as they rolled onto the ground. The punch didn't do much; though it connectd, it lacked the energy behind it that he brought to his first swings; this was more a reaction aiming to keep Simon at least somewhat busy while he thought of something else to do.

As they tumbled onto the ground Tyler's hand, searching for a point to push off of Simon and break from the grapple, pushed off of Simon's leg (by accident far more than by design), and felt something come loose.

(OOC: GMing approved by Decoy)
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((GMing approved by Anderson))

Simon and Tyler crashed into a heap on the ground, with Tyler throwing weak punches at him. Simon was starting to get pissed off: he wanted to rest and think about the good times, and this guy just decided to come in and try to whack him. Simon attempted to get up when he felt something sort of pop loose, a familiar feeling that only came when he ...

Simon nearly fell over as the weight on his left leg was gone, forcing all the weight onto his right leg. He looked down as he saw Tyler pushing off Simon's left leg, right where the housing of the prosthetic met with his natural leg.

Not cool, NOT COOL! You do NOT go after my leg!

If there was one thing that Simon had a sensitivity to, it was his prosthetic leg. While he'd relied on one his whole life, he'd always kept it under wraps as well as he could. Naturally, when he wrestled he had to reveal it, but one of the things that got to him was when someone poked fun at his leg, or in a fight, when someone tried to pull it off to unbalance him.

On some level, he took it like the gravest of insults: that he wasn't capable in the same way they were. Had Simon been thinking, he would have realized that Tyler's actions were instinctual, and that he didn't even realize that Simon had a prosthetic leg. Of course, Simon wasn't thinking about that, or much of anything except to get Tyler away. It was then, given the general situation of the game and Clio's death, that Simon snapped.

As Tyler started getting up, Simon grabbed the prosthetic, while on his right foot, and swung the foot end into Tyler's face with all his might knocking both of them down to the ground - Tyler because he was hit in the face, and Simon because the momentum of the swing caused him to lose his balance. Simon then crawled over to the tire iron that had fallen down a few feet away, a crazed expression on his face, and turned around. With a scream, and on his knees, Simon swung the tire iron into Tyler, again, and again, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Whack

"Do NOT ..."

Whack

"... insult ... "

Whack

"... my LEG!"

Whack

"Understand?"

Whack. Whack. Whack.
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[ *  * ]
As Tyler went down from the impact of Simon's leg to his face, something that he had definitelty not expected, he felt a sharp pain in his left ankle.

"Agh!"

It took Simon a couple of moments to grab the tire iron and turn back to Tyler. Though he wasn't able to do a complete diagnosis of what had happened in the time he had, Tyler could tell that his ankle is toast...

There's no way I'm getting away from here. I'm dead.

A swirl of emotions ran through his mind as Tyler Franklin knew what was coming next. No, not the details of it...that would have been both too much for him to process at the time and made the moments that passed next all the harder on him. Sorting out that he was about to die was enough to process in the moments of clarity that he had. As it was, in those brief moments, as his mind cleared from the fog that Simon's leg had left him in and before the next blows came, Tyler quietly resigned himself to what would come next...

Tyler looked up as first blow loomed. He did his best not to be scared, though he knew what was to come would hurt like nothing he'd ever felt. He knew, but he didn't try to crawl away; instead, he sat up as best he could, looking Simon in the face. And as Simon's first blow came down, Tyler nodded ever so slightly.

God, make this quick.


It wasn't. The blows came like a hurricane, falling all over Tyler's body. The first one took out his left shoulder in an explosion that he not only saw and felt, but he heard inside of his ears. Tyler felt bones break that he didn't know he had. He heard a pair of ribs crack, and an arm shatter. One of his ribs tore into a lung; another blow shattered one side of his face, his cheek bone breaking apart under a blow which narrowly missed coming down on top of his head. He felt every last one come down, and aside from that, he had no hope of processing what Simon was saying as he hammered Tyler with blow . It faded into a daze through which he could barely breathe, let alone think, by the time Simon's barrage abated.

As Simon's fury spent itself, Tyler's vision spun as he felt pain coursing through his body. He lay as still as he could to avoid moving any broken bones, something he knew would only make the pain worse.

"Who...?" Saying even a single word hurt as it jarred the broken cheekbones, but amid the pain that assailed Tyler through every one of his senses, he got the one word out to ask.

(Any GMing approved by Decoy)
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Bill Davis (not dead yet...but soon!)
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decoy73
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Again. Again. Simon didn't know how many times he had whacked Tyler with the tire iron when he finally stopped, but it had likely been more than enough to take him out of the running, as it stood. He hadn't been keeping count when the bleeding heap known as Tyler finally spoke up.

"Who ..." By this time, Simon was thinking clearly enough to realize that Tyler had said something, but what he was trying to say, he couldn't tell from that single word. Simon looked down at his legs, suddenly realizing that his prosthetic leg wasn't on, and quickly retrieved it, putting it back onto his stump, slightly embarrassed, before responding to Tyler. Now he wants to talk?

"What is it? Why are you talking now?"
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"What is it? Why are you talking now?"

Tyler heard the words over the pain he was hearing, but he really couldn't make out Simon too well as the world twisted and turned around him. Drawing slow, pained breaths in, Tyler spoke again.

"Who...are you?"

Each word comes out on a single breath, Tyler otherwise not moving. He could make the form of the other boy out to one side of him, but when he barely turns to look in Simon's direction, the minute movements it causes among the numerous shattered bones in his body makes him stop. Even the talking is a major effort at this point, and while his thoughts are perhaps a bit more clear than they were during the beating, that is not an overwhelming standard of clarity to reach.
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"Who ... are you?" the other guy asked, just barely turning his head towards Simon, most likely because the numerous blows Simon had given given him had made what little motion he had accomplished a nightmarishly painful task.

So, shoot first, ask questions later? Simon finally sat down near the fallen boy, facing his ... classmate? Opponent?

"I'm Simon. Who are you?" he asked. "And why did you attack me?" The words were out before Simon could really think that he shouldn't have asked that second part. Maybe he should have asked it before he went to work with the tire iron. Then maybe they could have both walked away relatively unharmed. Of course, it was too late for that, now. At the very least, Simon could treat this guy like a worthy opponent to the end.
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"I'm Simon. Who are you? And why did you attack me?"

"Tyler." Breath. "Food."

Pain was visible on his face as he answers the words; prepositions, articles...and, in this case, anything other than essential nouns are dropped so he can actually answer the questions. Tyler could feel his breathing getting harder with each breath, and each breath getting slightly smaller, so saving his breath had taken on an entirely new meaning. A three-paragraph speech on how he was out of food and hoping to get something to eat, if by morally questionable means, was simply impossible. Hopefully, though, the word would get at least some of that across in the face of the situation that everyone was facing.
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"Tyler ... food."

That was it? All he wanted was food? Why hadn't Tyler just asked? Well, okay, given the nature of the game and Simon's outburst, it actually made sense on some level. It was, what, Day 6? One hundred or something people were already dead, and it would be idiotic to think that there weren't fights going on all around the island. It was simply the nature of things.

Wait, am I starting to rationalize this? (Yes, you are.)

Simon looked at Tyler, who was struggling to breathe, thanks to the unbridled beat down that Simon had given Tyler. All because they couldn't talk it out.

But, this is killing people! For no reason! It's terrible! I can't take part in this, what if I become a psycho like Maxwell or Reiko? (Who said it isn't? War can be hell. Even Homer acknowledged it. Just because you do it doesn't mean you have to like it.)

"You just wanted something to eat? Well, that didn't turn out as well as ... okay, it's become a pretty shitty situation." Simon sighed. "So what happens now?"
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"You just wanted something to eat? Well, that didn't turn out as well as ... okay, it's become a pretty shitty situation." Simon sighed. "So what happens now?"

Tyler turns his head to focus better on Simon, wincing and groaning as he does so. Simon's seated form comes clearly into view.

What happens now? What do you think?

"I...die. You...go on."

His first instinct was to throw some nasty line at Simon, between the pain and the fact that Simon had killed him. He decided against it, though...

I can't blame you for this, can I? How would I have reacted to you doing that to me? None of this makes sense, but we're here. Besides, this is how he'll remember me. This is how I'll be remembered.

Tyler instead forced a smile onto his face; it looked more like a wince, but that was the best that Tyler could manage.

"Good...luck...Simon."
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((GMing of Tyler Franklin approved by Anderson))

"I...die. You...go on."

Simon just looked at Tyler for a second. Is he serious? (What do you think? You killed him. He just hasn't died yet.) Simon just stared at Tyler as he winced in what was probably the unholiest pain ever.

"Good...luck...Simon."

He really means it. I can't just ... (Yes, you can. And you have to. He's fucked either way. The only question is how much suffering he'll go through.) He's already suffering now! (And you can end it. Just finish what you started.)

Simon looked at the tire iron, and then at Tyler as he gripped the tool in his right hand. One blow to the head. That would probably be enough to end it.

"Then, I guess we make it quick. If it means anything, you gave me a run for my money ... and ... I'm sorry it came to this." Tyler, realizing what was about to happen, turned his head to the side as Simon knelt by Tyler and raised his hood up. Not to hide Tyler's face or anything - they both knew what was coming. Rather, it was to prevent the implement from doing any visible external damage as a respect to the soon-to-be corpse of his worthy opponent. He slowly raised the tire iron up, and aiming for the temple, brought it down with both hands.

CRACK
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