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Laisse tomber les filles; non je ne pleurerai pas
Topic Started: Feb 6 2011, 11:37 PM (3,648 Views)
Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[A Day at the Beach --> Logan Reynolds]

While he'd been moving plenty fast on his retreat from the beach, it didn't take long for the fight-or-flight adrenaline to subside, and for Logan to slow from a brisk march to a slow stroll. After all, he had no idea where he was going. Same as ever, he wanted to keep moving, but lacked any real destination. "So why hurry?" he reasoned, "I'm not going anywhere important."

Besides, it was probably best to conserve his energy, for the various worst-case-scenarios that could present themselves at a moment's notice. For exactly that reasoning, Logan stuck to the spare woodland between the beaches and cliffs of the coast, and the island proper. Even a slight treeline, he figured, would be a good defense against gunfire. The fact that it made his progress even slower, and decelerating the darker the day got, didn't much matter to him.

Daylight had well and truly faded by the time the lanky young man caught sight of the Mansion in the distance, but he didn't want to sleep, not yet. Remembering from his map that there were plenty of small buildings scattered around the Fun Fair, few of which were likely to be investigated overnight, Logan turned his attention fully to the west, and set out for that landmark Ferris Wheel. For some reason, the prospect of sleeping in one of the seats, suspended high in the air, appealed to Logan on a things-I-always-wanted-to-get-away-with-as-a-kid level.

He soon found, though, in the twilight of the small hours of the morning, that his childish mission was doomed to failure. He could barely see what he was doing, and didn't like the idea of an embarrassing death from a stupid fall. Or worse, being immobilised, and being found by someone else who'd finish the job. No, instead he made the short journey north to the house of mirrors. Two floors, dark, full of confusing reflections, the perfect place not to be found, or so logic asserted.

Somebody else was already at the door. They went into the darkness, and issued their demand to whoever might be inside.

"Whoever's in here, come out with your hands up!"

Logan hung back, waiting in the shadow of a stall, and let the other - boy? The voice sounded male - continue inside. With a bitter mutter of "Nothing's easy..." to himself, he waited a few seconds, then, making sure his weapon was gripped firmly in his right hand, made his own way forward. Making a note of the blood on the floor, and lowering his left hand onto the handle of his hakapik in preparation, he stepped slowly, quietly, through the door.

Instantly, the sight of Bill's shotgun told Logan he'd made a huge mistake in getting this close. Luckily, he still seemed focused on whoever he thought was inside. Logan backpedalled as quietly as he could.

Snap.

Instinctively, his eyes shot down. A small shard of glass, shattered under his foot. Fuck.

Standing behind a boy with a shotgun, holding a seal-clubbing weapon in both hands as if ready to strike, and the source of a very obvious noise. This was not a place Logan wanted to be.
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

The Past
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
"Don't worry, I didn't kill anybody, but someone in here did."

Logan opened his eyes. The second he'd noticed how loud the shattering glass was, he'd screwed them up, a moment of cowardice overtaking him, not wanting to see his imminent death approaching, not wanting to see the shotgun-wielding psychopath turn to face him.

But apparently, luckily, against all odds and by the grace of God, Allah, or whoever the bloody hell else was watching over the damned students, Bill was no psychopath. He was definitely shotgun-wielding, though, that hadn't changed, and remained something for Logan to bear in mind. Crossing him took pride of place at the very bottom of his list of priorities. Funny how one rethinks their to-do list when there's a lot of buckshot involved.

"If you want to help me, go the other way and we can corner them. I've got no problem with you."

But Logan didn't want to help him though. He wanted to get as far away of this bad choice of destination as was humanly possible. He wanted to curl up in a pile of leaves and sleep until the sixth morning's announcements. That wasn't an option though, and it didn't take someone with a hobby-level interest in body-language to realise that Bill wasn't asking for help. He was politely demanding it. And hell, who was Logan to argue? He was the one without the shotgun, that's who.

"By the way, what's your name?"

Looked like the other boy had realised where they both stood as well. Well, it wouldn't be too hard for Logan to let Bill turn around, then bury the faintly-gleaming head of his hakapik in his skull, but that wasn't about to happen. As he'd worked out towards the end of his partnership with Daisuke, and in a situation not unlike the present one, Logan was no killer. The other boy was, or at least still believed he could be. What choice did the poor lanky young man have? He decided to answer, as concisely and honestly as was possible.

"Logan Reynolds, I... uh... yeah. I'm not going to help you kill someone, if that's what you mean... err, I mean, not actively at least, but if you're going to do it anyway, and they deserve it, I can help, I suppose?"

He realised he'd put his foot in his mouth. Uncharacteristic, but pretty easily traced to the mortality-based panic he'd just come out of. At least he'd said it quietly, whoever they were after probably couldn't hear. Probably. He took a deep breath, told himself to calm down, to think clearly, to stop going off on tangents and focus. Scatterbrained-ness didn't become him, and it wasn't a good habit to fall into when there were shotguns involved and murderers to hunt.

"I'll just..."

The just trailed off, he didn't want to talk much at all, didn't want to embarrass himself further, and didn't want to even appear the slightest bit blasé about any of this. Everyday death wasn't something he was planning on getting used to. Following that rather timid addition, Logan lowered his weapon, and started to creep off in the direction Bill had pointed him towards, using the long-handled tool to brush away any more glass that might be in his path.
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

The Past
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
(Hopefully bringing this back to a more consistent order is a go!)

To say progress was slow would be a massive understatement. The further Logan crept forwards, the more he had time to think about what he was doing, and find it loathesome. Here he was, a boy who had previously been planning to become some kind of heroic slayer of evil killers, instantly fleeing from some girl with a gun, and now instantly going along with whatever some guy told him, because he had a shotgun. For all he knew, Bill was the real murderer in the mirror hall, and he'd been playing Logan for a fool the whole time. After all, he had a pretty damn sweet weapon, it would be hard not to take advantage of it.

Not much he could do about it for the moment, though. Logan had no idea where Bill had gotten to, the path the other boy had taken probably wouldn't be easy to get back to, let alone follow. So he carried on the way he was going, shoving the occasional shard of glass out of his way with either his shoes or his stick. At that moment, labelling it a weapon felt somehow wrong.

Progress continued to be slow, unsurprisingly. The terrain wasn't getting any easier, and the suspicions of Bill's motives weren't getting any quieter inside his head.

And then a scream pierced the midnight silence. Female, more shock than fear, and nearby. Logan sped up, the advantage of a little extra focus, and navigated towards where the sound had come from. Just shy of a minute later, the boy reached his destination.

He was sure that he was in the right place, but to begin with, Logan couldn't see anything. Not anything alive, at any rate. Eventually, his eyes fell upon the unusual spectacle of a girl - alive and well, at least physically - laying in what was apparently once another girl - dead and very not well.

Doubt flared up again; what kind of horrible murderer trips over a corpse and screams? Surely the actual killer would've known the body was there to begin with, and wouldn't have given themself away so easily. So either Bill was playing him, or at the very least, this wasn't the person they were looking for.

So with that in mind, Logan switched his hakapik to his left hand, approached Rhory, and extended his right hand in an offer to help her up. Partly because of seeing the Evelyn's remains close up, partly because of the residual panic from minutes before, his voice was still shaky, however he did his best to sound un-threatening at the very least, maybe kind, and, at the unlikely best, moderately confident.

"Er, are you okay?"

So much for the confidence.
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

The Past
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
Either Logan had underestimated how slippery what Rhory was laying in was, or he'd underestimated Rhory herself. He never did figure out which, in the few minutes that were left to him. The girl reached out, grabbing for his hand, but slipped back down as soon as she had a grip. He didn't know if she was trying to pull him down with her intentionally, or legitimately couldn't get up, but either way, the only move to make was to grind his feet into the floor as best he could and pull the girl up.

After several seconds of scrambling, which would perhaps be utterly hilarious in other circumstances and with anything other than corpse providing the slippery surface, the boy succeeded, pulling Rhory up to her feet.

"Stop or I'll sho...ah, hell..."

Oh shit. The voice came from behind Logan. He was still slightly hunched over from leaning down to help Rhory up. In the darkness, he probably appeared about her height, within reasonable doubt. And if not, he'd been helping her regardless. In the split second before the first explosive gunshot rang through the air, Logan could've sworn the girl was pulling him fully in front of her...

BLAM!

...and then any thoughts that may have inhabited his brain at that moment disappeared in an instant.

BLAM!

A second shot rang out almost exactly as the first cartridge's load of buckshot impacted against Logan's back.

BLAM!

A second shell, then a third, both emptied burning hot lead into the boy's flesh.

Burning hot, or was that just the pain? He couldn't quite tell. Faint from the first two shots, his legs barely holding him up, Logan put up little resistance when the third hit him, and was thrown to the floor by its force. His foot slid on a patch of human remains, twisting his body 180 degrees before his head impacted with a mirrored wall, cracking but not shattering the glass.

Logan hit the floor. He hadn't even the strength to tilt his neck and look down at the damage to his torso. It had happened too quickly. It wasn't supposed to go that quickly.

He caught a glimpse of something shining, not a mirror. His hakapik, laying on the floor, he must've dropped it in shock when the first shell hit. It lay, perfectly intact, inches from where he himself had just been standing. The sight of it seemed almost ironic, such a helpful weapon it had turned out to be.

And then a further two shots were fired. The mirror that Logan's skull had already damaged - as well as several to each side - shattered entirely, raining razor sharp shards down on his perforated form. A few stuck, but by comparison to what he was already feeling, the pain of a few lacerations was dull, hard to even notice.

"Damnit!"

Well, at least Bill hadn't meant it. Or he hadn't hit Rhory at all. Logan preferred to think it was the former.

Adrenaline was kicking in now. Strength was returning, entirely uselessly, to his limbs. So to was pain, returning to the myriad holes in his back and chest.

It was hard to think, Logan could barely muster more than a phrase at a time, even in his head. Speech, for now, was entirely beyond him.

Then again, his lungs probably wouldn't be holding on to air for long anyway.

It wasn't supposed to be this quick.

The pain was more than he ever imagined it would be. His mouth produced only silence, but his mind demanded to scream.

It wasn't supposed to be this slow, either.

"I have no mouth and I must scream."? Where had he heard that before? It didn't matter. Logan craned his neck, looked down.

What a mess...

Odd thing to think, looking at the red ruin of blood and flesh that greeted his gaze, that used to be his upper body. Blood had already formed a mostly-circular pool around him.

And I failed, too.

He failed. Never stopped any killers.

I failed.

Never saved anybody.

Failed.

Not even himself.

But something in his head told him to keep his head high, so to speak.

I never killed anyone...

Never stopped believing...

Never told a lie.

Never did any wrong.


It was true enough, and it gave birth to a comforting lie. Logan had sworn never to tell a lie, he knew that, in the end, they only ended up causing harm. But who could be hurt by this, now? Only he would hear it, and if he believed it, it became true by default. It wouldn't hurt him, only put a smile on his bloodied face in his last moments.

"I don't regret a thing."

A harmless lie.

He didn't regret not having the heart to kill. He didn't regret leaving Daisuke behind. He didn't regret fleeing. He didn't regret coming to this Hall of Mirrors. He didn't regret helping Rhory up.

"I don't regret a thing."

Just one harmless lie.

Logan chose to believe it.

And whilst his vision faded.

Whilst he lost sight of Bill, running somewhere or other.

Whilst his blood spilled out across the floor.

He believed it.

And he smiled.

I don't regret a thing.

Boy 114 - Logan Reynolds - DECEASED
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

The Past
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