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Who Died and Made You King of Anything?; Day 10 (Evening) - Private
Topic Started: Jul 21 2011, 03:44 AM (2,048 Views)
Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[Confiscate the Crown --> Ema Ryan]

So that walk was fun and definitely wasn't awkward at all. Yeah, violently shoving Hayley's busted nose back into place with much horrendous pain and blood and screaming definitely hadn't made for a less-than-perfect group (do two people count as a group?) dynamic, totally not.

Yup, it had been weird as fuck. Ema suspected and/or hoped that Hayley didn't resent her for what had happened. Should she survive much longer, it made sure she wouldn't have a really hideously deformed nose, and if it had been left to heal wonky, Ema was pretty sure there was a good chance it would just get worse somehow. Like, bones going where they shouldn't go and all manner of other things that would've made her squeamish except for how she'd just a few hours ago been personally responsible for carving Ma'afu Tuigamala - whose name she'd come to learn the next morning, that is - up in a decidedly brutal and unnecessary manner. No, the only thing that could still really make Ema squeamish at this point was the niggling problem of how she didn't even recall doing it. Just shooting him, then looking back a few (subjective) seconds later to see all those cuts and gouges and other pleasant words for lacerations.

But back to the present. The pace had picked up considerably after the short rest at the forest campsite, with Hayley being able to move freely and at a reasonable speed, and Ema having paused to rehydrate and enjoy a few of her remaining crackers, hesitating only to realise that they'd probably been pilfered from the daypack of some unfortunate dead student. Oh well. As the duo made their way out of the forest, into the pale light of the evening on the north half of the island, Ema caught herself thinking "They wouldn't have needed them anyway, right? Better we get them than someone like Lombardi or whoever. ...oh who am I kidding? We're not exactly the good guys here either.

Wait, Ema was supposed to be focusing on the present. Besides, she'd already established that she counted as a good guy because she was probably one of the few left that even thought about this kind of thing, at least in a remorseful manner. But in retrospect, was it even remorseful? Did she regret killing either of the people she'd killed? Yes. But not for the classical "Oh no I killed a person, that's bad", altruistic, lawful good reasons. She regretted killing Sapphire because she had to see a bullet go through her skull, and because it marked her out as dangerous, a legitimate target for the real good people. She regretted killing Maf because the circumstances frightened her, and seeing his mutilated body was even more horrific than watching the bullet hole rapidly form in Sapphire's head. Whilst she'd had a "good" reaction to hearing of Hayley's first kill, and maybe slightly seeing her second, Ema didn't recall even once caring about the victims of her own actions. Only caring about how she herself suffered.

I thought we'd already established that I was a monster? So why don't I feel like one?

That was a good question. Maybe she was a psychopath, or a sociopath, whatever the difference between them was. She'd never really taken the time to find out, seeing as they always seemed to be so interchangeable. She preferred not to think about it. Not thinking about anything had gotten Ema this far without breaking down, it'd have to do, carry on doing what works. She'd have plenty of time for remorse when she wasn't in constant danger. That was a good enough excuse, Ema was going to stick with it. Time to change the subject and stop constantly dwelling on the past. Must be the second time she'd told herself to quit doing that in the last few minutes.

So. The present. Where was she, where were they going? Open ground, trees (obviously) behind them, a river to the right... the east, she thought, and quite some way off to the west was the swamp.

The swamp? Crikey, how long had it been since Ema was there? Eight days, thereabouts? Just over a week. It felt like a lifetime. The river must be the one she'd followed on her way out of it, then.

"Where are we headed, y'think?"

Oh yeah. Hayley's still there, still capable of speech and stuff. Just wasn't exercising that capability because of nose-related trauma and all that jazz. By some absurd luck, Ema's meandering thoughts had actually been relevant ahead of time, and she found herself holding back a smile as she recounted what she could remember about the place.

"I was here way back on the first night and second morning, there should be a bridge a little way to the north, I slept under it" beat, just barely "well, I say slept, sat around all night staving off paranoia, on, yeah the first night. I already said that. But there's a road on the other side, goes off to a big warehouse kind of thing in the distance. Might be worth a look, somewhere comfortable to sleep for once, maybe?"

More comfortable than sleeping under a bridge with bloody "You Know I Couldn't Last" stuck in my head, then banging my head on said bridge, for sure.

"So I'm thinking, we should probably head that way?"

Even as she made that suggestion, a glance back in Hayley's direction told her it probably wouldn't fly. Until then, the place had been so ethereally quiet it had been perfectly fine to speak whilst essentially walking away from her, without having to worry about not being heard. So naturally, it took until Ema actually looked around at her companion to notice she was running on fumes, so to speak. No way she was making it all the way to the Sawmill by herself, and it'd take a miracle for her to still be standing for that long if Ema were to help her. Time to reassess the situation.

"...maybe not. We could crash under the bridge for tonight, I guess?"
Edited by Chib, Jul 28 2011, 10:01 PM.
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!?
[ *  *  * ]
Nostalgia. Odd word to choose, really. It had barely been a week ago that she'd stumbled out of the seemingly endless swamp, spotted the off-white stone of the bridge out in the darkness, and decided to rest there. And yet it felt like a years. Still, Ema could just vaguely remember having sat on the cool masonry, going numb from staying there for what might have been hours, considering a one way trip to a short swim. It felt like a lifetime, because in those few days, a whole life's worth of changes had happened. Ema certainly wasn't pondering the pros and cons of drowning any more, as she helped Hayley stagger the last few metres to the dark underside of the stonework, that was for sure. If the last week had taught her anything, it was that she had a stronger desire to survive than she'd ever previously known. A desire that had driven her to kill two people in cold blood, no less. It was self defence, at the time I thought they were trying to attack! ...who am I even trying to convince here? Neither of them were ever dangerous, I just want to justify not caring that they're dead.

That morbid line of thinking didn't progress any further. Ema pressed it back to the depths of her mind where it belonged, once again assuring herself that it was just survival instinct, that she could be humane and remorseful and beg for forgiveness and all the rest of it after she made it home. And with perhaps fifty people left between Ema and victory, making it home seemed a lot more likely then than it had when she awoke at the key with no weapon, no allies, and no reasonable hope of making it through the afternoon. Yeah, fuck you Past-Ema, that miracle happened and now I'm epic-tier. Just gotta keep it going until I'm the last one standing. Fuck all the probabilities and crap, I did grow a pair, and they're cast from Mars-grade adamantium.

Ema helped Hayley down to the ground, and meandered down to the stream. By now, the nightly ritual of shrugging the coat and daypack off, unpacking the towel and blanket, setting them out on the floor and stroking them flat felt automotive to her, and it gave the girl plenty of time to reminisce. The morning after she'd woken up, that had seemed eventful at the time; a whole load of people meeting up, conversation, that Janet girl freaking out over a vibrator... it all felt so dull by comparison now. Nobody had been beheaded, nobody had been stabbed, Ema hadn't shot anyone, or sliced up their corpse for that matter. Come to think of it, she was sure she remembered Danya mentioning Janet the next day, but it hadn't really computed, with all the Hayley-killed-a-guy related freaking out. She'd drowned, that sounded like what Ema had heard. How Janet had managed that was beyond her, but she hadn't exactly listened out for a killer, it could've been forced. Her mind stopped awkwardly there, not sure where it was supposed to be going with this tangent. Quite involuntarily, Ema found herself wondering if that offending dildo was still there on the grass. If it was, probably wouldn't still be buzzing, but it'd be pretty hilarious if it somehow was.

The makeshift bedding was laid out by then, and at such a late stage in the game, Ema barely even registered it as "makeshift" any more. It'd been over a week since she even had a sofa to rest on, and slightly more recently that the prospect of real beds at the mansion had arisen. No, at this point, the unintentional-yet-functional combo was so very ubiquitous that Ema didn't think of it as anything other than her and Hayley's sleeping arrangements.

Hayley herself was quick to lay down and get comfortable - as comfortable as one can be, nursing a broken nose and innumerable cuts and bruises - and the thoughts of rest the sight evoked soon robbed Ema of her prior intention to at least wash the blood off of her face and out of her hair first. There'd be time to do that in the morning, just another thing to add to the routine, under 'listen to the announcement', 'have breakfast' and 'look for the dildo'. Odd how none of those things seemed weird to her. Maybe because having her chin resting on Hayley's crown and Hayley's cheek pressed against her chest was an unusual and entirely novel feeling, that pushed most non-urgent thoughts out of Ema's mind. It was a nice feeling, though. She felt... she felt a way that was difficult to describe. Not so much 'strong', more along the lines of 'responsible', but that was inaccurate too. Ema felt important, needed, two things she'd scarcely had cause to describe herself as in the past 17 years. She was protecting Hayley, keeping her safe, just as Hayley herself had done for Ema ever since that night on the beach, seven long days ago.

So Ema wrapped her arms tightly around Hayley, careful not to knock against her nose, and basked in the pleasant feelings until sleep claimed her.

---

The sound of Danya's antagonistic applause didn't awaken Ema on the 11th day's morning. In fact, she awoke of her own accord, feeling strangely refreshed, having slept better that night than she had in a long while. She couldn't say for sure why, but Ema had plenty of likely-sounding ideas. As the Irish girl's eyes fluttered open in the pale light of morning, all the more pale from the shade of the bridge, a contented smile found its way to her lips. Careful not to rouse Hayley, she disengaged from the tangle of limbs, and clambered up to her feet. True to form, Ema smacked her head against the stone over her head, and henceforth toned down the optimism to make room for some spatial awareness.

Rubbing gingerly at the lump that had risen on her scalp, Ema emerged into the open and looked around. Nobody. Nobody in plain sight, at least. And with the rapidly reducing population of the island, the odds of anybody just happening to stumble across her and Hayley, this early in the morning, seemed quite small. About as small as me still being alive today. En garde and all that.

She crouched back under the bridge, pulled her coat back on, took the gun out of its inside pocket, and transferred it to the back pocket of her jeans. After some deliberation, the girl grabbed one of the two spare clips from her daypack, too, placing it in the other back pocket. She estimated that there were about three or four bullets left in the one still in the gun, so some foresight couldn't go amiss. With that done, Ema carefully made her way down to the river's edge, wary of falling victim to whatever it might have been that pulled Janet under, and knelt down.

She stayed there for several seconds, eventually deciding to lose both the coat and her shirt. The latter was tossed in the general direction of the bridge, falling under the category of things Ema couldn't throw away despite being next to useless. Now bare from the waist up, the girl leaned forwards, submerging her head and neck in the cold water. A few seconds later, she came back up, shook as much water from her hair as she could, and set about trying to clean the dried blood off of her face, forgetting that she'd elected to keep a good deal of soap in her daypack, back in the great purge of unnecessary belongings a few days ago.

Eventually, Ema scooped up her coat, returned to the shaded area, and stuffed her bloody shirt into the depths of her daypack. A short rummage later, she produced one of the remaining clean shirts, and put it on, followed by the coat. Hayley didn't seem to have moved, and the announcement hadn't started, so Ema made her way up to the top of the bridge, sat herself down on the side, pulled her hood up over sodden hair, and waited. She had plenty to wait for, after all.

The voice of Greynolds came first. In his characteristic disinterested tone, he regaled Ema with the news of the previous day's demises. Lombardi had carried on his killstreak, a couple of people she didn't really know had died, the boy she'd killed turned out to be called Ma'afu, confirming Ema's suspicion that his name had indeed been something weird and hard to remember, let alone pronounce. Greynolds also confirmed the obvious, that she'd been responsible for what happened to his body between the shooting and realising what had happened. A far bigger bombshell was Lombardi himself finally meeting his end at the hands of... a Japanese guy Ema didn't recognise. The rest of the news was comprised of unfamiliar people dying at the hands of the equally unfamiliar, so Ema tuned it out until the announcement of danger zones. She was rather sad about not being able to go back to the key to complete the round-trip of nostalgia, but otherwise it was just a matter of marking the additions to the rapidly-increasing area she wasn't allowed to go any more onto her map, and mentally noting that a narrow safe area did still exist between the two sides of the deforested areas.

Information digested, Ema got back to the important task of waiting around and doing nothing. Hayley would probably be getting up soon, what with the loudness of the announcement, so she wasn't resigned to a particularly long wait. Perhaps the two of them could see if Janet's vibrator was indeed still lying around before they carried on to wherever they planned on going. The sawmill? It had been the target for where they were going to sleep, but it was still just as good a place as any to head towards, if only as a stop along the way to the town Ema had somehow still managed not to visit yet.
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!?
[ *  *  * ]
Waiting, even for a few minutes, wore thin rather quickly. It was odd to think how she could distinctly remember sitting in almost the exact same place as she was now, several days earlier, for hours on end, and yet here she was now making a move after maybe five minutes. Mindsets and priorities change. Time marches on, and Ema was finally starting to move along with it. After all, the King Killer was dead now, that left a world of possibilities open. That Raidon guy that killed him could easily move to become the new #1 most feared player, or the power vacuum could consume the other top killers and leave the unknowns like Ema to win the day. Anything can happen in the next half hour... who remains when the curtain falls? Totally gonna be me.

The rather random intrusion of Enter Shikari into Ema's psyche was actually a welcome change from the until-then omnipresent depressing voice Morrissey. A nice injection of energy and optimism into the almost dull routine of running around and trying to be on the "kill" side of "kill or be killed" each day. Forty people left. Most of them with three or more kills to their names, hardened and ruthless, the sorts of people Ema would normally run away from very quickly. But she was one of those forty people now. She had two kills under her belt. She could be hard, she could be ruthless. She just had to put her mind to it and remember that success was the only option, and that remorse could wait until she wasn't fighting for her life. It was just a temporary state of sociopathy, right?

Lyrical thoughts aside, there was ridiculously-out-of-place boredom to attend to. Disregarding both Rou's imaginary voice and the relative absurdity of being able to be bored in such a situation, Ema clambered back onto the bridge proper, and made her way across to the eastern shore. Just as the memories of Janet "It's me! Janet V!", Josie, and Sierra were coming back, and with her vision focused on the area in general rather than anything in particular, her foot knocked against something solid, but with a slight amount of give to it. Naturally, she looked down.

Bodies. Four of them, not clustered together as such, but in pretty close proximity. For some reason, Ema expected, by some absurd coincidence, to see one of those three girls lying there. Instead, and perhaps equally unlikely, she saw somebody else that she knew, hard to identify at first from the savage beating that had been dealt to her head, but eventually recognisable as Gloria Benson. "B-But so-some people c-call me G-G-Glory..." The incredibly shy, stuttery one from the prom. Who was the other guy there at the time? Rob, or Bob, or Robert. Yeah, Robert. Until now, Ema hadn't even thought about Gloria, even considered the possibility that she was on the island as well. Come to think of it, Robert hadn't occurred to her either, or that boy Isaiah. And by now they were probably all dead. Who'd have thunk it, Ema Ryan, outlasting all those people and making it this far? I must be some kind of badass.

She knelt down by the bodies for a moment, pondering whether or not she should do something with them. The river was right there, it was a bog-standard makeshift burial, but it probably beat being left out in the middle of a field with a load of junk and mud around them. Then again, not using that energy up on something that couldn't really help her in the long run also beat using it up and then maybe later getting into a fight and being too exhausted from moving four bodies to win it. Gotta think tactical here. The tactical thinking didn't stop Ema from talking aloud, though. "I'm sorry, Gloria." she began, not quite aware that the words weren't only in her mind. "It's not even my fault, but... you didn't deserve this."

A pause. A laugh.

"Yeah, like anybody else here did." another pause, a sigh, a realisation of what she was doing. "It's fucked up. And what's more, I'm sitting here discussing it with a corpse. Isaiah's pa wouldn't approve." Another laugh. Less than a laugh, really, more of a chuckle. A little inward recognition of the recollection, so unlike Ema to remember such a throwaway comment in such a meaningless conversation, so long ago. The girl manoeuvred herself back from one knee into a sitting position, by now quite at ease in the company of four corpses, with the smell being the only thing to put her off. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing the small column of smoke before the smoker, acknowledging that Hayley was at least awake, up not up and moving. Ema gave a wave, in case the other girl was worried about where she was. She'd go back in a moment, just as soon as she mustered the will to get up. Besides, she still had something to look for, she didn't quite remember what any more, but there was something she'd come across the bridge to find. Something to do with Gloria? No, someone else.

What is even wrong with my bloody memory? Honestly. I remember light conversation from a month ago but not what I was thinking about five seconds ago. This is your brain on Ema.
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!?
[ *  *  * ]
Ema's attention was first drawn away from her lovely corpsey tea party - well, not really a tea party, more a one-sided conversation, and there wasn't even any tea invo-- FOCUS. It was first drawn away, before being drawn back again by her dissection of the phrase "tea party", by what sounded like someone jerking awake, as if from a bad dream, or having been forcibly woken up. Or just being surprised that they were even asleep. That sort of startled snort kind of sound, Ema knew it well from being woken up long before she wanted to by her parents. It was nearby, too. Maybe one of those corpses wasn't actually dead?

Not so, as it turned out. Ema turned her head towards the general origin of the sound, having spent long enough in thought that she was hence staring down the barrel of Janet Binachi's handgun. Bollocks. There really wasn't anything she could do, and frankly, it was all her fault. The sight of Gloria Benson had grabbed her attention right away, and she hadn't thought to check if what had looked like a dead body a few feet away actually had been dead, which gave Janet plenty of time to just wake up and pull a gun on her. She could go for her gun, being in her back pocket and everything, but the second Janet saw it, that'd be plenty cause to shoot her without asking questions. Even fidgeting would probably be suspicious enough for that. And with the few living people left on the island, no cleverly chosen words would be enough to talk her out of firing if she actually wanted to to begin with. Ema was a killer, she was armed and dangerous, and even as a team based only on survival, they both knew one would have to kill the other eventually.

Ema was absolutely without options. Helpless. And it was horrifying to contemplate, even before admitting she had nobody to blame but herself. She was doomed to die here, and it was entirely her own doing. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, and every quaking inch of her body betrayed her fear and desperation. Ema Ryan did not want to die, yet here that choice was out of her hands, and she could see her fate literally staring her in the face. And knowing one's doom is infinitely more terrifying than being taken by surprise.

But then the outright miraculous happened. The sound of feet colliding with stone. Hayley Kelly's footsteps. Ema couldn't help but look, and evidently, neither could Janet. The girl was armed as well; it stood to reason she wouldn't take kindly to seeing a gun pointed in Ema's direction. What came next, came quickly. Six gunshots filled the air, hard to tell whose were whose, and when they were through, both Janet and Hayley were no longer standing. Ema reacted quickly, running first to Janet to relieve her of the gun, fearing she might still be alive and capable of using it in spite, then to Hayley.

Mercifully, Hayley actually was alive. She'd been hit, and that pain, combined with all the other injuries she was experiencing pain from, must've been what floored her. It was just a flesh wound, though, similar to the one Ema had sustained on her shoulder a few days before, if considerably less shallow.

No time for panic. Panic was the enemy. It didn't matter that panic had scored Ema two kills so far, it'd also scored her an unhealthy degree of paranoia - partly directed at herself - and presumably a good deal of infamy she'd been comfortably without beforehand, whilst not giving her any tangible benefit, as neither Ma'afu nor Sapphire had been carrying weapons. No, panic was bad, Ema needed to think clearly. Clear thought yielded the obvious course of action. She ran the short distance across the bridge to the other side of the river, vaulted the side down to the bank, and quite literally dove for her daypack. A few seconds of hasty searching later, she emerged back onto the bridge with her so-far-unopened first aid kit in hand.

First things first, she rolled up the sleeve of the wounded arm. That done, she pulled on a pair of latex gloves - because an infection was the last thing Hayley needed, on top of all her other health problems - and, assuming the purpose of various parts of the kit, cleaned the wound with a drop of rubbing alcohol, placed one of the smaller pieces of gauze over the wound, then secured it in place with a bandage, all the while outright ignoring any complaints or pain from Hayley. This needed doing.

When all was done, Ema sat back, instantly dreading the very real possibility that she'd done something incredibly wrong. Her rational mind told her that there was no part of her very basic treatment that could be harmful; alcohol disinfected the wound, or something, then the gauze stopped the bleeding and the bandage held the gauze in place. Those things wouldn't be in a first aid kit if their most obvious use could somehow be harmful, right? Of course, her irrational mind was simultaneously inventing ways the alcohol could be killing Hayley's cells or poisoning her blood, or how the bandage could be too tight and somehow fuck up the rest of her arm, or how the gauze might not be sterile enough. The fear showed in her face, try as she might to hide it.

So instead she tried to take her mind off of it, just like everything else she didn't like on the island, instead focusing on the gun she'd taken from Janet. A Colt Anaconda .45 revolver, not that she actually knew that. In fact, she instantly assumed it was a .44 Magnum, the only revolver she actually knew by name. Fuck yeah, most powerful handgun in the wild west. Revolver Ocelot up in this bitch. Hayley and I are gonna be mad pro now.

At that, she realised she hadn't actually said a word to Hayley for the entire morning, not even a panicked call of her name upon seeing her shot down, so, finally, Ema elected to rectify that. "Uh... stupid question, are you okay?"

[Possibly subject to edits, but the major details are solid so yeah.]
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!?
[ *  *  * ]
Despite Ema's worst fears, it looked like Hayley was going to be alright after all. She was still breathing, there wasn't any blood escaping from beneath the bandage, and she'd even managed to respond pretty quickly, even if it did sound rather forced. Injured, yes, but thinking straight and able to articulate herself too. It'd have to be enough. In the mean time, might as well check on Janet. "I think so, lemme make sure."

The girl stood, fiddled with her new revolver until she figured out how to open the cylinder, found there was at least one bullet in there, and promptly chambered it, then pulled back the hammer for good measure. She had no idea if it was necessary, but better safe than sorry. Loaded gun in hand, Ema approached Janet's body, barrel aimed for the centre of her chest - she didn't fancy the consequences of aiming for the head and missing - and slowly lowered herself down to inspect the presumably-dead girl's vitals.

But then she had an idea. One she couldn't resist carrying out, and could at least palm off as a means of checking that Janet wasn't just playing dead. So, in a manner that only superficially mirrored the original, Ema stopped a few feet from Janet's unmoving face and yelled, quite loudly, "Oi, Suzy!"

No response. Close enough to switch her aim to Janet's head, Ema kept the barrel of her gun trained right for the forehead, whilst she checked for a pulse with her left hand. Had she arrived earlier, she may have found a weak heartbeat, but now - and understandably so, with so much blood already spilled on the ground - there was nothing. Janet wasn't getting back up. Ema, on the other hand, was entirely capable of standing up again, and did so, still smirking ever so slightly from her latest stupid reference. It was a good feeling, to be able to insert some humour into her life, even now. A little reminder of the real world she was fighting to get back to. And speaking of fighting, with Hayley all Last Stand mode and all, time to collect the victor's spoils; a healthy addition to her supplies of food and water, the spare ammunition for the revolver, plus another spare gun and the ammo for that, too. A good haul, all in all.

Twirling the revolver around her finger by the trigger guard, Ema made her way back across to Hayley, stopping halfway to note I don't even care that it was only one turn, holy shit that was some badass gun-twirling right there. Let's do that again! Of course, on the second try, the gun managed only about 400 degrees of spin before flying off of Ema's finger and landing in the mud in spite of her scrambling attempts to grab it in mid-air. That it didn't discharge into her foot was a miracle Ema put down to the accumulated bad luck she'd experienced so far finally paying off. Or something like that. Stooping to pick the gun up, the Irish girl carefully put the hammer back into its rest position, and tucked her new toy into her right pocket.

"We should probably move on, yeah?" she remarked as she returned to Hayley's side, offering a hand to help her up. "Way too open out here, I don't fancy getting attacked again."
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
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
It would've been premature to say 'And so all was well', but Ema couldn't stop herself thinking it all the same. Hayley was still in no fit shape to be walking very far, let alone defending herself, but it looked as though she'd be okay, given enough time to rest and recover. Besides, hadn't the guy that won V3 been beaten up almost as badly just before going into the big finale and winning? Ema was pretty sure that was the case, she'd at least paid attention to the end of the last game; it was almost impossible not to, what with all the hype surrounding it.

"R-right."

On second thoughts, that didn't sound so good. That sounded frightened, as though there was something about all of this that Hayley wasn't letting on. Ema made a mental note to more thoroughly check her girlfriend's injuries later on, when it was safer to do so. Sure she wouldn't be able to make an anywhere near accurate diagnosis if there was some kind of internal damage, but an educated guess couldn't hurt, and if there was just another injury Hayley was hiding for whatever reason - pride, not wanting to worry her, Ema didn't know, it was just a hastily constructed theory - well, she could try to do something about it.

But that was all academic unless the considerably-less-dynamic duo could actually get to somewhere safe enough for Ema to get her makeshift triage on. Who am I kidding, I only know the word triage from Team Fortress... So, when Hayley accepted her hand, Ema pulled the unfortunate girl up, and obliged when asked to grab her dropped gun. Wouldn't do to be caught unaware again but without backup, would it? With Hayley busy lighting one of her last remaining cigarettes, Ema took the liberty of tucking 'Vera' into Hayley's back pocket, and offered an arm to help her walk the rest of the way to the (hopefully) safe haven of Sawmill. It was probably going to be a very long trip.

Hold on, Hayley, you can't die now, not yet. Just hold on...

[Ema Ryan --> Destroya]
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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