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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 (3,171 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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"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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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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((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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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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"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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"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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((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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Simon looked at the body he had just created.

"Tyler?" Nothing. No sign of life. He was dead. The small, expanding splotch of red where Simon had hit Tyler was quite enough to attest to that fact. Simon just stared for a minute or two at the corpse. His first kill, caused by both of them losing control of themselves, over something as minor as food. The mish-mash of emotions stemming from that kill led to one thought.

Never forget.

Simon looked at the slight protrusion under his T-shirt - pulling it out, he revealed the key he had taken from Clio when she had died.

To My Heart.

His eyes returned to the body in front of him, before flitting over to the tree line, and back to the body. Simon stood up. He knew what he had to do ...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SIX HOURS LATER ...

In ancient Greece, whenever someone died, or at least, when someone died an honorable death, part of the funeral proceedings involved cremation of the body on a funeral pyre. Anyone not familiar with ancient Greek culture or mythology could be pointed to the Star Wars movie "Return of the Jedi," when Luke Skywalker burned the body and armor of Anakin Skywalker after the latter's redemption and death.

Simon may not have been able to match the sheer size or epicness of those funeral pyres, but he figured he had enough for the job as he placed the final branches of punk wood into the makeshift fire pit. As fire pits went, it was quite large, about eight feet in diameter, and about eighteen inches deep, with enough tinder and kindling to start and maintain the fire he needed. There was just one final thing missing from this event ...

Simon walked over to the body of Tyler, and picked it up, moving it to the center of the circle, laying the body down, hands by his sides, eyes closed, and searched through the bags that had formerly been Tyler's.

True to his word, Tyler was fresh out of food, and Simon had swallowed the little water that was left in one gulp, although given the circumstances, Simon had little reason to doubt it in the first place. The only other things of significance in the bags were Tyler's first aid kit, which was still unused, and two decks of cards for the Survival of the Fittest card game. The first aid kit Simon transferred over to his bag. The cards, Simon placed on top of the body.

When you go to ... wherever, at least you'll have that to keep you company.

Simon then stepped outside the fire pit to pick up a punk wood branch, about four inches across and four feet long, and took the lighter which had been in his first aid kit out of his pocket, igniting it, and holding it to the end of the branch held under his arm until the wood started burning of its own accord. As the tip ignited, Simon dropped the lighter and held the flaming end of the branch out to ignite the wood.

The tinder quickly caught fire, spreading out over the circle, as it expanded around the rest of the fire, downwards into the kindling, and upwards to Tyler. Simon just stood about seven feet away, solemnly watching the scene, placing his hands into the pockets of his ... Tyler's sweatshirt. Not a trophy of war, per se. More of a reminder of what he had done, and of the effects of the game on himself and the others, both on the island and back in St. Paul.

Simon bowed his head as he stood there for about fifteen minutes, just watching the makeshift cremation, and then walked over to his bags, shouldered them, and left ...

Never forget ...

((Simon Telamon continued in And Knowledge Itself, is Power))

((Thread concluded))
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