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Paint it Black; Private
Topic Started: Jun 11 2011, 04:03 PM (2,371 Views)
Fiori
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The Fiorious One
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Maxwell Lombardi continued from Riddles of Monsters))

Maxwell was slowly awoken from his slumber by the rays of sunlight that shined through the gaps of the makeshift shelter he'd built for himself, prompting him to get up from where he lay and stretch his arms out after a long night of refreshing sleep.

It had nearly been an entire a day since the fiasco by the stream where he had encountered Mizore and her tenacious guardians, and whilst he still hadn't completely recovered from the embarrassing defeat he felt far better then he had moments before deciding to make a makeshift shelter out of sticks a various other objects he found lying around in the woods. It wasn't much, and barely provided enough shade to make it worthwhile, but it was a better option to sleeping out in open anyway. Besides, thankfully, the spot he found proved to be relatively comfortable to some of the other locations he'd had to take refuge in the past. And his old bag proved to be a good makeshift pillow as well, thanks to the fact that it was mainly full of spare clothes rather than rations and equipment.

Hmm, that reminds me, I probably ought to get changed soon before heading out into the wilderness. Still, no rush, perhaps I could go get some sunshine and stretch my arms for a bit first...

He crawled out of the shelter and stretched his limbs, taking the opportunity to take a deep breath of fresh air as he basked in the morning sunshine. Judging from the smell of saltwater, and the sound of seagulls cawing in the distance, Maxwell suspected that he was somewhere near the seaside. Whether or not that was actually relevant was something he wasn't particularly sure about, although it would mean it would be easier for him to figure out where the heck on the island he actually was on the first place. The last thing he needed was to accidentally waltz into a dangerzone and get his head blown clean off by mistake.

He looked around as his surroundings, making sure that nobody was actually around. The last thing he needed right now was for another jackass to come along and scare the living daylights out of him again, especially seeing as the last time that happened he lost his only weapon. Which meant that the next time he met someone dangerous, he'd have to play things a little more carefully to avoid being on the wrong side of a hail of bullets. Perhaps he could find someone whilst they're asleep so he could deal with them without too much hassle. It would be somewhat underhanded, yes, but in Survival of the Fittest being polite and honourable got you shot in the back of the head.

It was at that point that the familiar sound of the morning announcement kicked in, which piqued Maxwell's interest more than it usually did, what with the whole escape attempt kicking things up a notch.

The first interesting thing he noticed was that instead of Danya's inappropriately light-hearted voice telling them all with glee how well they had done over the past day, it was some drone by the name Greynolds telling them all the latest news on their classmates. From the sound of things, this rescue attempt had been a much bigger operation than Maxwell had assumed it was. From Danya's absence alone, Maxwell could gather that he'd either been seriously injured during some conveniently unmentioned firefight, or...

Maxwell couldn't help but smirk at the thought of someone finally being able to silence the smug bastard once and for all.

The next piece of news that caught of interest was that somebody by the name of Maf Tuigasomethingorother had killed Nick Reid, which was mildly disappointing considering that Nick had always been someone who Maxwell had especially wanted to kill himself, and now from the sound of things some cock with a weird name got him first. Damnit. Oh well, at least I can take solace in the fact that SOMEBODY took that son of a bitch down. I'd of hated it if he had decided to take his own life or something anticlimactic like that...

Then of course, there came the news on what had happened with the escape attempt. Which, from the sound of things, went exactly as well as Maxwell suspected it would. A large grin slowly formed on his lips as Greynolds read out the list of names of everyone who had died trying to escape, including that thieving nip Mizore Soryu and the communist dyke Sarah Xu. He was beginning to wonder why he had been so concerned in the first place, seeing as if anything this whole rescue attempt business had reduced the competition by a significant margin. At this rate, the entire ordeal would be over within the next couple of days.

With Maxwell emerging as the victor, of course.

Heh, imbeciles. That's exactly what happens when you try to cheat your way out of the game. Now then, may as well get changed. No time like the present, right?

And so, with this in mind, Maxwell leaned over and grabbed his bag from within the shelter and dragged it out, opening it up and rustling through the contents as he tried to find the clothes he was was looking for.

Little did he realize that he wasn't quite as alone as he had assumed...
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Fiori
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The Fiorious One
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...Oh, you're fucking joking, aren't you?

Oddly enough, Maxwell wasn't too surprised the moment he felt the barrel of some bastard's gun prod him in the back of the head. If anything, throughout his stay on the island he'd grown used to unwanted interruptions such as this occurring whenever he had so much as a minute of spare time all to himself. Heck, he barely had the chance to replace his filthy black shirt with a much cleaner T-shirt before finding himself on the wrong end of a (potentially) loaded gun once again, meaning that he now had to deal with this cock whilst completely topless.

First things first, he had to figure out who the blazes this guy was in the first place. He kind of vaguely remembered his voice from somewhere, but in all honestly he hadn't the faintest clue who he was apart from the fact that the two of them had supposedly met before. Had the two of the met back at Bayview or something? Well, only one way to find out...

"Really? I don't believe we've ever met before... Care to remind me?" Maxwell asked calmly, resisting the temptation to turn his head around to get a better look at the boy who he was at the mercy of. He was lucky enough as it is that he hadn't decided to just shoot him in the back of the head and get it all over with, meaning that there was still a very good chance that Maxwell could figure a way out of this predicament. Nevertheless, the fact still remained that if he stalled for two long or acted too rashly then he could very easily wind up with a bullet in his skull.

"I thought you wouldn't remember me." the boy said, trying to sound as if he was some dramatic hero about to do battle with his arch nemesis. "George Leidman. You probably don't remember Duncan McMahon either, do you? Then again, you've killed so many people, names probably mean nothing to you."

Ironically, that wasn't too far from the truth.

That being said, Duncan McMahon was a name he DID remember. After all, Maxwell made a special effort to remember all the names of the people he'd dealt with in order to keep track of his score, and Duncan McMahon was definitely the name of one of the people he'd put our of commission at some point or another. Although, just because he remembered his name didn't necessarily mean he knew WHICH person whom he'd killed had been the Duncan this George fellow was referring to. Nor did he have any better clue as to who George was either apart from the fact that his name cropped up one or two times during the announcements.

Apparently too impatient to wait for Maxwell to reply, George continued his little statement, revealing one or two more interesting facts about his identity that allowed the English killer to have a much better understanding of who he was.

"You murdered him. At the residential area. In front of me and Maria. I'm here to... avenge him, or something. As well as everyone else you've killed."

Ah... NOW I remember! Interesting......

So, not only was this guy the idiot who started swearing bloody vengeance after he'd killed that sod who stood out in the middle of the street like a lemming, but the girl with blue streaks in her hair - AKA The same topless bitch who ruined his best suit and nearly caused a flaming house to fall onto his head - went by the surprisingly normal name Maria. After all, she was the one who's boyfriend he had gunned down right before her very own eyes, and as far as Maxwell could recall he hadn't managed to kill anyone else during his brief stay in the residential district.

It was at that point that Maxwell remembered a certain section of the recent announcement that he'd previously hadn't thought much upon, but with this sudden revelation became significantly more important. A section which brought a wicked smirk to the young killer's face as he began to realise the implications...

"Maria Graham fought long and hard, but ultimately, she gave up the ghost. It's a marathon, not a sprint, people. She took too many injuries and paid the price..."

Heh. Guess I won in the end after all...

"OH! Now I remember! So YOU were the guy who started yelling about how I'm going to be dead by the time you find me, or some nonsense along those lines... It's a small world, huh?"

As much as he didn't want a bullet embedded in his skull anytime soon, Maxwell just couldn't resist the chance given to him on a silver platter to really get this bastard where it hurt. Maybe then at least he could stall for time until he could figure out a way out of this mess...

"Maria you say? As in Maria Graham? Yes, I think I remember her quite vividly, if you get my meaning..."

An idea jumped to his head the moment he said the word vividly. One which was just far too good for him not to put into action...

"And I have to admit, she had been such a feisty young girl the last time we met. Can't say I really blame her, seeing as I DID technically pin her friend to the ground with her own javelin and all. Snappy bitch nearly managed to bite my hand off... Still, in the end, she didn't prove to be TOO difficult to overpower. And at the very least, the two of us managed to have quite a lot of fun together before parting ways... Come to think of it, I'm surprised it took her so long to die from all the injuries....."
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Fiori
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Lady luck, as it seemed, favoured Maxwell that day.

Of course, Maxwell already had a vague plan in mind for how he could deal with George by the time Hayley decided to create a distraction, although the plan in question was highly dependant on Maxwell acting particularly fast to avoid George shooting him right in the face. But before he could put anything into action, a loud clunk followed by several frightened birds caught George's attention, giving the young Brit ample opportunity to make his move without worrying about George being quick on the draw.

Barely seconds after George glanced in the commotion's general direction, Maxwell's dashed from where he was kneeling and grabbed George by the wrist with one hand as the other went for his neck, causing the two of them to fall onto the floor in a heap as he attempted to wrestle the gun from his grip. However, George as it seemed was significantly stronger then Maxwell first suspected, and getting him to give up his weapon proved to be a difficult task once George had caught on to what was going on. Nevertheless, eventually the other boy let the gun fall to the floor so that he could focus his energy on getting Maxwell off him, something which he eventually managed to achieve via a well aimed left hook that knocked Maxwell onto his back.

Rolling out of harm's way before George could strike again, Maxwell made sure to kick the gun away to make sure that his opponent didn't get any funny ideas as he adopted his fighting stance. George had also quickly managed to get back onto his feet, and wasted no time in attempting to knock Maxwell onto his back. For the next couple of minutes the two of them exchanged blows, dodging and blocking each other's attacks as they attempted to outdo the other until Maxwell finally managed to land a kick that knocked George off his feet, following it with another kick to George's side as he was about to get back up to make sure that he stayed down. He was about to follow it with another kick when George grabbed him by the leg and threw him over onto his back, pinning Maxwell underneath his weight as he preceded to rain a series blows down upon the tenacious killer.

Maxwell was barely able to block the punches that George was throwing at him, his mind working at a thousand miles an hour as he attempted to figure out a way out of this mess. Despite all his bravado, the fact still remained that Maxwell was in nowhere near as good condition as he was to begin with the moment he woke up on this island, and the fact that he had already found himself on the receiving end of a vicious beating was enough so show him this. However, back then things were different. Maxwell had become overconfident in that conflict. He had become so convinced that he could have taken those two idiots down with his hands tied behind his back that he nearly ended up getting himself killed because of it. Made himself look like an idiot in front of an entire nation...

This time, however, he wasn't going to make that mistake. He was going to take this bastard down, show him just how tough Maxwell could be. Show all those bastards back home watching this on TV that he hadn't lost his edge, and that if anything Maxwell was feeling better than he ever did before. Because if there was one thing he knew for certain at that particular point in time, it was that there was absolutely no way he was going to let himself get killed at the hands of this complete tool.

Alright, fun time's over. Time to kick things up a notch...

On that note, Maxwell delivered a particularly vicious kick to George's nether regions.

Having already been kicked in the crotch several times in the past, Maxwell felt a surge of joy at finally being the one deliver said kick rather than be on the receiving end of one. George buckled in agony from the harsh blow, allowing Maxwell the opportunity twist out of his grapple and deliver another vicious kick right into George's face.

However, things didn't stop there. Not by a long margin. As George attempted to get back onto his feet, Maxwell kicked him again in the stomach several times, each kick increasing in ferocity as his blood began to boil. He was beginning to feel alive again, as if the spark from his first kill was finally starting to reappear. He grabbed George by the collar, tugging back on it as hard as he could, then began to pound the boy in the face repeatedly as he continued to get more and more ferocious with each passing second. Ever time his fist made contact with George's face, Maxwell could see the faces of all those who had ever wronged him...........

Nick Reid....

Reiko Ishida......

Maria Graham.......

Alice Boucher.............

Mizore Soryu...................

Her two tenacious guardians....

He was reminded of all of them as he continued to relentlessly beat George to within an inch of his life.

Eventually, Maxwell calmed himself down and let go of George's collar, his fist covered in the other boy's blood. He slowly stood up and admired his handiwork for a while, circling George with a sadistic grin on his lips as he observed the boy's desperate attempts crawl away as if he still had some chance of beating him. Maxwell was reminded of just how incomparable the feeling of being in control of another man's life was, as if he truly was in charge of deciding whether George should die or if he should live. He was almost tempted to leave him to rot, let the poor bastard spend the rest of his short time on the island realising how much he had seriously fucked up.

But then he noticed that George was crawling towards his bag, possibly to grab some secondary weapon he kept inside for safe keeping, and decided that it was probably best to kill him now and get it over with. He didn't want to risk having another asshole seeking revenge, now, did he?

With this thought in mind, Maxwell walked over to where George was crawling, leaned over and threw his arm around his neck, bringing the struggling boy's head up to his chest as he attempted twist it around and finish him off. Despite having been thoroughly beaten, and almost certainly suffering from a severe case of internal bleeding, overpowering George still proved to be a difficult task. Maxwell had to respect him to a certain degree for how much he was determined not to die, something which he himself could perfectly understand. Nevertheless, it didn't cause the ruthless killer to falter for one second, and sooner or later he was going to hear the telltale noise that would tell him that his work was finally done...

C'mon, c'mon, any moment now...


Snap.


...Ah, voila!
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Fiori
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Deep down, Maxwell felt good.

His heart was still beating a mile a minute as he let George's body flop onto the floor, his hand wiping perspiration from his forehead as he stood up and looked over his late assailant's corpse.

A cruel, satisfied grin appeared on his face. How long had it been since he'd successfully managed to remove a member of the competition with his own bare hands? Far too long for his liking. He'd almost forgotten what the thrill of taking another person's life felt like, even though it had barely been a few days since his last successful kill. Still, as he stood there alive and well with another person's lifeless body in front of him, the tenacious young killer couldn't help but feel more than a little excited.

Now THIS is more like it! No cunts coming out of nowhere and ruining things at the last possible second. Just a good old fashioned execution with no strings attached... Now then, lets see what he was so desperate to get his grimy little hands on.

Maxwell stepped over the body towards his bag and picked it up, quickly unzipping it and gripping the handle that poked out of the corner of the bag. His eyes widened with awe as he unsheathed the magnificent sword from within, a Turkish yatagan if his memory served him correctly. Such a magnificently crafted weapon, one which deserved to be in the hands of someone who actually knew how to use it.

Luckily, Maxwell just happened to be something of a experienced fencer himself.

He wasted no time in gathering up the rest of his belongings, tossing on a black t-shirt from his bag and tightening his signature maroon tie around his neck before packing his stuff away and slinging his bag around his neck. Afterwards, he tucked the Turkish sword into his belt as he picked up George's discarded gun, checking to make sure it actually had any ammo before he began to make his exit.

The young Brit only walked a few paces before he stopped and looked back towards the woods, his eyes searching for the source of that noise earlier. Most likely, it was just a coincidence, but a small part of him couldn't help but suspect that some unseen third party had caused that convenient distraction earlier.

If that was the case, then perhaps he wasn't hated by everyone on the island after all...

That thought brought a smile to his face. Shame I'll probably have to kill whoever it was eventually. Oh well, life goes on...

And, on that thought, he promptly headed south.

((Maxwell Lombardi continued elsewhere...))
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