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Tactic Static; a film by David Cronenberg
Topic Started: Feb 9 2011, 06:26 AM (1,770 Views)
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
Her ears twitched upon hearing her name. Someone familiar was running towards them, excited, calling out to her.

"Take a bow, Eve Walker-Luther!"

She thought it was someone friendly, someone she could trust.

"-stabbing Miranda Merchant in the throat."

Someone that she used to work with before the island got to them.

"-made Chris Carlson the star of her latest masterpiece performance."

Someone that she thought she could rely on; someone normal, someone sane.

"Brock Mason finally found a gun that he could operate-"

But what she found-




-was Sarah Atwell.

Violet scrambled to her feet, kicking up sand as she lunged for her weapon - her only defence - the blowtorch. It tried to leap out of her hands, but she gripped hard, keeping it steady in her trembling hands. Facing Sarah now; her friend in the distance. What were they doing here? Was she going to kill them, too? No, of course not. They weren't ready to die yet, not by a long shot.

A look at Mike.

They saw the fear in each other's eyes, as they looked back from the girl to one another. She was reaching into her bag - probably to pull out a gun. What were they going to do? What could they do? They only had crap between them. Utter crap. A flail and a blowtorch against a gun? Doomed. Screwed. Fucked.

Utterly fucked.

How could this happen again?

They kept leaving themselves so open; so vulnerable, and why?!

"Leila Langford put down Hilary Strand, helping her pull the trigger."

That knot pulling itself tighter in her stomach.

No. Stop it. You can't think about that now, put it away.

Eyes watering.

Come on, stop it. You're better than this. Don't die now.

Then stopped.

She held herself back.

If only for now, she'd stop remembering those words and focus on what was happening around her.

She'd focus on Mike.


She needed to protect him.

Whatever she was about to pull out of that bag would be for her, and not for him. It had to be that way, otherwise she couldn't go on. If he died too...

"Stop! Stop right there!"

Her bangs fluttered in the wind, swatting at her eyes again. She pushed them back. Reflex.

"We haven't done anything to you! Please! Don't shoot us, Sarah! We're supposed to be friends!"
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
Sarah was frantic now, pleading; mania flashing in her eyes as she thrust the tapes towards them. And Mike, who now stood so defiantly in the face of such madness, only made this worse. What was he thinking, stepping in front of her like that? Didn't he know dangerous this girl had gotten? She'd killed people - something the two of them hadn't had to face so far, and hopefully, would never have to.

But what now? What could they do? Take the tapes, and accept responsibility if someone ever found them in their possession, or throw them back in her face? There was no way she could do it. Violet couldn't put them both at risk like that. She looked past Sarah. Even if she took them, how were they to know that Alice wasn't lying when she put down her gun? What was stopping her from shooting them both dead while her mentor ran for cover?

So many questions assaulted her, one after the other, relentlessly. There was too much to lose either way, and she needed to make a decision. It wasn't something she could leave to her friend; he'd do the obvious and get himself killed like an idiot. And for what? For her? She wasn't worth getting murdered over, not by a long shot. She was just as scared as he was, just as unwilling to die. They both had family and friends that needed finding again, and they couldn't do that if they died here.

No. Enough was enough.

She was sick of this island. Sick of people becoming so violent and oh so ready to kill one another. Where had their spirit gone? Their closeness? They used to be together; used to be kids. They used to fight, yeah, but not like this. Not with this amount of blood and ferocity. This game had twisted them until they didn't even look like their old selves, and she was pretty sure that if she found a mirror somewhere, she'd look exactly the same. But right now she didn't have one, and for all she knew, she could've been the only one who even had a glimpse of their old face left.

Her hand held Mike's, squeezed it tight.

It would be okay, this told him. If anything went wrong, it would be her own fault - not his.

She let go, then stepped around him. Her eyes met Sarah's, and her arm outstretched, displaying her palm to the world as they watched on in the safety of their living rooms; their offices; their eyes all glued as they looked on with disbelief.

"Alright. If it'll really stop you."
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