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Dead-End Scenario; Open
Topic Started: Aug 30 2011, 12:46 PM (4,820 Views)
Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Aston Bennett continued from The Golden Treehouse.)

Should have killed the goth girl when she had the chance.

Would have served her no good. Would have increased her odds though.

Odds. Numbers. Shit. Aston was starting to hate math.

It was down to the wire. She made a promise, she was going to stick to it.

No odds about it. No numbers. Just promises.

Aston was in a church though. Not out killing. Inside, sitting.

There were bodies. It looked like crap, like hell's fury hit the parish full-force.

It's not like the dead men were going to mind her crashing here.

Aston figured they wouldn't mind anything anymore.

Just like Joe.

Just like Joshua.

It made no difference. No thinking about the past.

The present. The only thing that existed now.

She couldn't sleep. Mind spinning too quickly. Not enough space. Besides, she would be vulnerable if she fell asleep.

Sleep was not for the weak, the tired. Sleep was for when everyone else was dead.

So she didn't sleep. She waited.

Aston ran a hand through her hair, rifle at the ready.

She wanted to be ready. She was sure that she was ready.

There was a drop of doubt, she shook it off.

She was ready to increase her chances.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Peter Siu continued from This Side of Paradise))

There was something comforting about the woods at night. Moonlight filtered through the branches, just enough light to not need a flashlight. The air was cool and quiet; only the steady rhythm of Peter's footfalls broke the silence.

If anyone else was nearby, he'd see them or hear them long before they got close. Not that there was anybody left to do that. Most everyone else was already dead.

But as comforting as it was in the woods, he couldn't stay in there forever. Well, technically, he could, but that'd just be running from what he needed to do. What he'd sworn he'd do.

The steeple of small church reached into the sky, the silhouette of its cross blending in with the night. It was here that he'd killed someone. Jessie Anderson. It had been necessary. Not Peter's proudest moment, but that was what it meant to walk the path he did. Somebody had to get his hands bloody. Somebody had to shoulder those burdens. Better him than somebody else. Only way to be sure it was done right.

No light peeked out from inside. Nobody here. Just another fruitless and futile attempt. Sometimes, Peter wondered why he still bothered. There wasn't anybody left worth saving. The ones who deserved to live had already escaped from this hell. But he couldn't let himself fall into that trap. There were still a few that he could save. He just needed to find them.

A soft rustle. Barely audible. He'd been mistaken. Somebody was here.

He brought up his gun, its weight getting more familiar to him as the days passed, and stalked to the door, but stopping a few paces short. "Who's there?" he called out in a loud clear voice. He didn't want to go through what happened last time again. He was in this to save people, not to kill them.

Not unless he had to.
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
And then.

Even more hesitation for Aston.

Shit. Just what she needed.

Not only that, but noise too.

Footsteps.

A voice.

Oh. Little piggy talked too. Great.

Aston wished this asshole hadn't noticed her.

Should have wandered in unannounced. Would have given her an excuse to kill without a reason.

Why did this asshole have to be so careful? Now she had to think of a plan. Had to make it justified.

No matter. It would pay off, hopefully. Increase her chances. Decrease the numbers.

A subtraction. Math. 2 - 1 = 1.

But.

But.

Don't go kicking the door down. Yet.

Don't be an idiot.

Lead the fly into the web.

Tea. Cookies. Warm conversations. Trust.

Then when he turns his back, pull out the pistol and blow his head off.

Maybe not just his head, if he piled up enough bodies along the way.

Not just a kill. Make it longer. Make it hurt. Make the pig regret. Like she made that prick Quincy regret.

No resistance.

Simple.

Aston liked it. Better than killing in self defense.

Aston drew her pistol and sat her rifle on a pew. Flicked the safety off. Pushed into the waist line of her jeans. Covered it with her shirt. Picked the rifle back up.

Door seemed like a lifetime away. Rifle was loaded too.

Would she use it? She hoped not. Thing was clunky.

Got to the door. Lowered the rifle. Knocked on the door with her hand.

Could have a machine gun. Had to be sure. She moved away.

"Someone." No time for names. Gave the pig no room to speak again. "You a killer or somethin'?"

A pause.

"Don't lie to me."
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
((Saul Fetteralf continued from The Wolfman Cometh))

As Saul neared the parish, he was greeted once more by the foul stench of decaying flesh. He inhaled, unwillingly taking in the stink, and already the gag reflex came kicking in. As he fought the urge to puke, he wondered if he'd ever become accustomed to the smell, as it hung in the air almost everywhere he went now. 'How many dead bodies are there? How long has it even been?' Saul glumly thought.

They'd been on the island for well over a week, nearly two weeks even, although Saul had completely lost all track of time so he couldn't be certain. There was no concept of 'Monday' or 'Day 3' for him anymore, only whether it was daytime or night. And right now, it was night. 'When the wolves come out to play.'

He neared the building and saw a couple of bodies, lying in the soft moonlight. Now that was a sight that Saul had become accustomed to. Sure, it had been terrifying when he'd stumbled across Marco's corpse those days back, but... after Garry died, he just didn't seem to care about it anymore. Now when faced with one of the deceased it was simply 'oh, another body, moving on'. Yes, it was still sad to see one of his dead classmates, but Saul had seen his best friend die in front of his eyes. Any other dead bodies, as horrible and selfish as it sounded, paled in significance.

'Wait a second, is that...?'

He wasn't just hearing things. They really were voices.

'Now that's something new.'

Saul slowed down and stepped lightly, remaining as silent as possible. He approached the side wall of the parish and pressed up against it, slowly inching along towards to front entrance, like he was some kind of movie spy. He calmed his breathing, trying to catch what was being said. From what he could tell, there were two people, a boy and a girl. 'Or just the one person who's flipped and is talking to himself, herself, whatever,' Saul thought. He hoped it wasn't that, he didn't want to deal with a crazy right now in the middle of the night.

'Just to be on the safe side...'

He pulled the Smith & Wesson out of his pocket and flicked the safety off. If whoever was round the corner started attacking without provocation, he wasn't going to be caught totally off guard.
Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V5. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
Only silence hung in the air.

Interrupted by a soft click. A gun's safety.

Interrupted again by a girl's voice. A voice tinged with uneasiness and fear. A voice of a person trying to be stronger than they were.

Peter tried to put it all together. Words and sounds and contexts. Fear and paranoia was the base. The girl clearly didn't want to die. The key question was "why". Why that specific question? Why ready a weapon? Did she intend to shoot him if he answered wrong?

Which brought up more questions. What was a wrong answer? What was a right answer? Was he supposed to lie and lull her into false security? Tell the truth and possibly get a piece of lead for his honesty?

Which brought up more questions. Would she shoot? How badly hurt would he be if she shot him? What kind of gun did she have anyway? Could he beat her in a firefight?

The silence continued to hang for what seemed to be an agonizing eternity as he contemplated these questions. Few of them useful, but he contemplated anyway. Right now, he had the time to fit the pieces together. It never did to have assessed the situation wrong. Only ended in problems, misunderstandings, and pain. And now that they were on this island, death. He'd seen it happen already. He'd done it himself, as much as it pained him to admit it. Not only that, it likely happened countless times already in the past ten days. Peter wasn't going to add to that statistic.

Another click broke through the haze of silence. Not from inside, Peter noted. If the girl had backup, then he was pretty screwed. No way to win. No way to run. But it didn't mean that the other sound was the girl's friend. The way she had asked her question, the fear and paranoia, could mean that she thought she was alone.

He should tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. Safety be damned, because he wasn't doing this to save himself. But he didn't have all the pieces yet. He didn't know who she was, or who the other person was. There had to still be somebody worth putting it on the line for. So why waste his life doing something right, but stupid?

"No, I'm not. I'm just looking for somebody. Are you a killer?"
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Voice sounded familiar.

Still couldn't make out who it was.

Another hesitation.

Could this have been some guy she didn't know?

Better this way. Better not knowing. Better just imagining.

All the people she cared about were dead.

So. Plan is still intact.

Shoot to kill.

Had to get him inside, first. Had to get his back turned.

Kept repeating that.

He asked if she was a killer. She made a face.

That question pissed her off. Almost threw the door open and tackled him. Stopped herself.

"Could be, if I had to." Clicked her tongue. "Depends on you."

Crossed her fingers as far as they could go.

Reached out with her other hand. Opened the door slowly.

"Not going to attack. Promised myself that. You try to pull something though, I'll change my mind."

She was sure things were running smoothly.

According to plan.

That was until

Until.

Until that bitch had to show up and ruin everything like that. Fuck. Fuck her and her stupid little face. Fuck. He and Raidon were doing just fine without a complete cold-blooded killer. Zach really wished he had lashed out and called her a bitch. He let her keep the gun! Didn't that mean something to her?! Bitch. Should have called her a heartless bitch. She could have killed him but at least he would have went out pissing her off. And when it really came down to it, that was all that mattered. Making an impression. Could have been the Zach Jamis of before. He didn't do that though, no, he was a fucking little puppy dog.

Zach Jamis had changed.

(Zach Jamis continued from Failing to Reappear)

Zach Jamis was a tad bitter over what had happened, not just with the bitch but also with himself. It was terrible idea to combine that shit with the overwhelming feeling of sadness. He felt like crap.

Zach didn't have any cigs either. Fuck. All he needed was a smoke, just a smoke, fuck, a smoke, he could make it if he just had one. Yeah, blame the lack of cigarettes Zach. They totally forced you to skip around like an idiot for the past several days. Whatever, Zach was tired. He just needed a cig. He could think then.

He looked over at Raidon, making a face. They had just come across a building, a church. Fuck, just what he needed. Did Raidon plan on coming here? Jesus. If there was any symbolism behind their coming here it was lost on Zach, he fucking hated English class. This story was coming to it's conclusion and the pulp writer has just been replaced by an English major on a deadline with a hard on for religion.

He wanted to say something to Raidon. Small talk. They were friends weren't they? No, probably not. He fucked Mizore though, or at least he assumed that was the case. While the idea of imagining a colorful blob like that in any sexual way made him want to upchuck, he was cool with her. Ergo (Hah, see? He could be an English major too!), that meant he was chill with Raidon too. So, yeah, small talk. What could he talk about? Hmm.

"You know what I just realized?" His voice smelt of smoke and felt like jagged rocks. "That girl that kicked us out? Bitch is a killer. Josie probably got her head lanced off. Just thought you should know that. In case you wanna repent, if that's your thing."

And if there was any hint of pity, or disgust, or regret for actually leaving those two alone, it did not show in his tone. He was all about deadpan humor.
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
((GMing of Zach's and Raidon's position approved))

So far so good.

The people, or person, lurking around the corner hadn't attempted to gun him down where he stood. That was promising, knowing that he'd stumbled on people who weren't playing.

Either that, or they were players and just hadn't noticed his presence yet.

'Shit, way to put a dampener on things, brain.'

So what could he do for the time being? Saul wondered if he'd be able to just hang there and listen to any more of the conversation, and if things turned ugly, he could run for the hills and find somewhere else to hide. He listened more, catching bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it one. The female then mentioned something about possibly being a killer, only if she had to. 'What the fuck does that mean?' Saul asked himself, feeling the blood draining from his face.

Great. Just great. Maybe he had gone and stumbled on a player.

Maybe. 'Only if I had to, only if I had to... does she mean self-defense?' Well now he didn't know what to do. Perhaps the best thing to do was to just wait it out from the sidelines and see what happened next.

At least that was until he heard more voices, coming from the other end of the church and heading his way. 'Oh come on, what is this? Why is everyone heading over here?' he thought in frustration. Frustration turned to panic when he realized that he was actually stuck between the two groups of people, no way out without being seen. "Shit!" he hissed, covering his mouth up with his hand straight away. Now he'd probably just given away his position to whoever was around the corner. 'Fuck fuck fuck!'

So what could he do now that the situation had changed? He couldn't stay where he was, not with a group consisting of an unknown number of people heading his way. Making a run for it was out of the question as well; they'd be able to hear him. 'I guess I have to take a chance with these guys already here,' he thought, shuffling closer to the corner. 'Here goes nothing.'

He put the gun in his left hand and stuck his right past the corner and waved it around, hoping to grab their attention. "Psst, hey," he whispered, "just warning whoever's round there, that you've, no, we've got company heading this way."
Edited by JamesRenard, Sep 21 2011, 04:38 AM.
Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V5. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

The Past: V4 Characters

Stuff from Chat

Cards Remaining (V5) - HERO: 1 /// SWAP: 0
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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Naoko Raidon continued from Failing to Reappear)


"In all fairness," Raidon mused. "I'm a killer and you're with me."

It was worrying him, of course; he remembered the violence in the girl who'd joined him, so familiar, so terrifying. He knew that kind of quiet murder--he'd killed with it before.

But he'd told Josie he wouldn't die for her. And he wasn't going to let anything stop him, now that he was so damn close...

"Repentance isn't on my list," he added. "This is just the only place I know at all that isn't a dangerzone." And that I'd actually want to come back to, he added to himself--he had no interest in returning to the Residential District as yet.

"Still, people have been here before," he added. "Somebody bombed the place, earlier--broke the roof, lot of the pews..." He shrugged. "Best be careful."

He was watching Zach somewhat warily--had been for hours now. He liked the boy, was the problem; he'd helped him do the one thing that mattered, the one thing that had changed everything, changed his perspective on the game and his relationship with Julian and ultimately brought him face to face with that sonofa...

He kept an eye on Zach.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
She's not going to shoot first. So she says. There was always the chance that she was lying. Trying to get his guard down. He wanted to be able to take what she said at face value. Would make things so much easier. Too bad things in life, were seldom easy. Especially when life was like this.

The time to ponder was apparently not now though, as some rustling, muted whispers, and then a voice alerted him to some more arrivals. Fun times. The only way to make this more interesting would be to add more variables to the equation. "I'm not pulling anything, so you can just stay in there then," he called out to the girl, "or you could run."

With that, he crept up to the edge of the building where he'd seen someone waving out. If the girl inside wanted to make some witty quip, he couldn't care less right now. As long as she wasn't getting ready to shoot him in the back. Maybe he'd need to keep watch on the door just make sure. That first involved not running face first into one tired, dirty Saul Fetteralf. Who, by the way, was on the comparably short list of people that were still alive on the island that weren't killers.

Which meant he was on the list of people he'd need to protect.

"Hey there Saul. Any idea who else is coming?" Peter kept his voice at a whisper, and his tone as conversational as possible at that volume. He threw a glance around, and then realized that the moonlight was only sufficient for a few feet of visibility. His flashlight was in easy reach though, and once illuminated, he could actually something besides shadows. Didn't mean he could see who these mysterious newcomers were.
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
Saul briefly glanced back towards where he thought the newcomers were approaching from. He could've sworn he heard a different voice coming from that direction now, so at least two people were walking his way. 'Great.'

He turned back and nearly jumped a foot in the air when he noticed someone had now positioned themselves right in front of him. Just who it was, he couldn't tell exactly; it was way too dark to make out any discernible features. Plus he was more focused on trying not to suffer a heart attack at that scare he'd just received. While he calmed himself down as best he could, he was asked a question by the mysterious stranger (a male, that much was obvious at that point) who seemed to recognize him. Not that being recognized surprised him anymore, ever since he collected that team spirit award in front of everyone.

"Oh, um, n-no, I don't know who's coming," Saul replied nervously, pointing his gun at the floor, so as not to pose a threat. "Two people at least, from what I can hear... uh..." He had no clue who he was even talking to. He made a reach for his bag to grab his flashlight, but stopped himself at the last moment. Flicking the light on and giving away his position to the other people wouldn't have been a very smart move, especially if they were players.

"Um... who are you again? I can't see you, hell, I can barely see anything in this light. And who was that you were talking to? I heard someone else as well." He was sure he could recognize the guy's voice, but couldn't for the life of him put a name or a face to it. Getting that figured out would help a great deal.
Edited by JamesRenard, Sep 22 2011, 07:31 PM.
Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V5. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

The Past: V4 Characters

Stuff from Chat

Cards Remaining (V5) - HERO: 1 /// SWAP: 0
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[Director's Cut --> Ema Ryan]

She'd been wrong about the time. In fact, it had just about been noon when Ema arrived at the cinema, and looking at the sun, she estimated she'd only been unconscious a few hours. She was still having some slight trouble standing up, but it'd probably pass, and it was much too early in the day to be stopping to rest. Ema knew her sleeping habits well, and if she napped now to ride out the passing effects of Nick's dart, she'd be awake all night, and probably regret it the next morning. Except less waking up late and having to wolf down her breakfast, more maybe being killed while her reactions were shot.

So she headed back out of town, deciding the Parish would be an interesting place to see, whilst she was in the habit of going to places on the island she hadn't been to before. Maybe she could sit down in the peace and quiet and finally finish reading American Gods. Heh, that'd be pretty ironic, I guess.

Maybe there'd be some people there, hopefully the friendly type. Ema did not fancy the prospect of any more fights, two in one day had been quite enough for her. So a nice quiet chapel, that was the plan. Somewhere to bask in that strange feeling of non-violence that came of being on so-called holy ground; even lacking any particular spirituality, Ema could appreciate that lack of aggression that came of being "in God's house". So that's where she went.

It took maybe an hour, an hour and a half, to get clear of the residential area and within sight of the rather lonely looking building up atop the cliffs to the north. The path was clear enough, and so the girl followed it, climbing slowly, surely, towards her arbitrary destination. With the moon shining high above her, the girl realised it'd be late before she made it to the Parish, let alone back to the town afterwards. And so it was that, as she lay eyes on the small group gathered in front of the building, Ema found herself wondering if it'd be a safe place to sleep.

Won't be safe with these lot here. I'm an outsider to them. Always have been, let's be honest.

Only one thing for it, then.


Subterfuge hadn't worked with Nick, and with his dried blood matting her hoodie, Ema doubted it'd be any better here, with four times as many people to possibly see through the act. Even without the blood, the situation, and the residual effects of the tranquilliser dart in her veins, she wasn't exactly a fantastic actress anyway.

No, better to use the solution with the far better track record; brute force. Gunfire had worked a treat on all of the redhead's problems so far. Bullets had, in fact, gotten rid of Sapphire, Ma'afu, Meredith and Nick quite permanently. Nothing left to worry about from any of them, and at this late stage in the game, very low odds of a best-friend-revenge-plot. Makes sense, just kill 'em all and have done with it. Think how much easier life is with that many fewer people on the island.

...but fighting is effort.


Better plan. Ema, quite comfortable in the assumption she hadn't been noticed yet, in the distance and being quiet and all, ducked behind one of the solitary trees dotting the Parish's perimeter, and waited. She ejected the magazine from her Nambu, replaced it with a full one. She took hold of her trusty Vektor, too. Eighteen bullets in total, if she were to just unload on the nominally hostile group. Eighteen chances to hit one of the four targets. Scratch that, five, somebody was opening the doors from the inside. Still good odds. Three and a bit bullets each. What's 18 over 5? 15 is 3 and the other 3 is like 0.6 so... 3.6 bullets each. Yeah I like those chances. Unless whoever's inside doesn't come out, then it's... 0.45? No 4.5 what am I doing. Fuck just kill them afterwards with the Magnum or something.

So that's what the girl did. She stepped quite blithely out of the makeshift cover that was the tree, took aim briefly down the barrels of both guns, and, trying to keep her arms as steady as possible against the recoil, squeezed the triggers until the magazines were empty.

You know what? Maybe I am a bad person. But fuck these guys, I want to live.
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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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
Sometimes, Peter could marvel at how bad some people's night vision was. Not that it was superhuman or anything. Maybe it was just the many nights spent out in the wilderness in the past. Or trying to sneak around the house in the middle of the night for a late night gaming session.

"It's Peter. I'm in your, uh, English class, I think." Well, they were in the same English class. Peter let the light and his eyes scan across the trees, hoping to catch some motion. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He turned to peek quickly at the open doorway of the church, in case the girl decided to move, but nothing was happening there either.

"There's a girl inside. Don't know who, but I wouldn't go wandering in there. She doesn't seem to want to be disturbed." His flashlight made another quick sweep of the area, but still nothing caught his eye. He handed the flashlight to Saul. "Stay close to me. I'm not sure who's out there, but chances are they aren't as friendly as I am."
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
'Peter, Peter... oh, that's right, Peter Siu,' Saul thought, watching Peter swing the flashlight from side to side. 'Oh, yeah, attract their attention why don't you? Are you trying to get us all kill-'

His thoughts ground to a halt. 'Wait a fucking minute. Peter Siu, I... I've heard that name!' He thought back to the previous announcements, the ones that had heralded Garry's death, and recalled the crucial snippets of information.

"Peter Siu then gunned down Marry-Ann Warren."

'N-no...' But it didn't stop there, as he remembered one such death from what seemed like an eternity ago.

"One of our resident bible thumpers, Jessie Anderson, fell foul of Peter Siu."

'No!'

He'd killed her. Peter, the guy standing next to him, had killed Jessie Anderson, one of his friends. He was numb, his head was swimming and at some point Saul thought he was going to collapse on the spot. He put his hand out against the wall to steady himself, waiting for the feeling to pass. 'Oh my God... I'm standing next to someone who killed a friend!'

He wanted to run, but his legs were shaking so bad that he couldn't take a step.

"You... you killed her," he managed to spit out, turning his head to face Peter, eye to eye. "The announcements, th-they said you killed Jessie!"

----Placeholder for conversation will go here----

And then before Saul could do anything else, a bullet came out of nowhere and tore straight through his shin.

Saul howled out and immediately pitched forwards onto his front as the sound from the multiple gunshots caught up with the bullets, ringing through the air above his head. He writhed in agony, reaching down to clutch at the throbbing wound. His hand came into contact with the hot and sticky blood that ebbed from the hole in his leg, staining his hands. 'Oh God... oh God no, fucking hell I've been shot it it huuuuuurts!'

He seethed and hissed in sheer agony, clutching at the ground with his blood hands. 'This, this is-oh God... this is it, isn't it?' he thought, rolling onto his back and staring up at the starry sky. He breathed quickly and shallowly, tears flowing down his face. 'This is as far as I go.'
Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V5. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

The Past: V4 Characters

Stuff from Chat

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Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Details in this post are subject to change pending more information from involved handlers))

It really was just a matter of time before the universe caught up with him, to be honest. It really was just a fact of life: consequences tended to catch up to Peter far more quickly than they might for other people.

When the mistake was killing somebody, there was no doubt the fallout would be a disaster.

Peter looked grimly at Saul. "Yeah, I did." His gaze flicked to the wall, to the inside of the church where he'd killed the girl. "Had to. Do you know what she was going to do? Help Polanski. Get everyone killed." Peter looked back at Saul, but there was nothing he could read in the other's eyes. He sighed and shook his head. There was no way he would understand.

((Placeholdering the rest of said conversation))

Whatever more Peter wanted to say would have to wait, as motion in his peripheral vision alerted him of the arrival of some more people. Probably the people that Saul had been trying to warn him about earlier. Peter held up a hand to silence Saul as he turned to focus on the newcomers. His grip tightened on his gun, but he didn't aim it at them. Chances were that they had guns. Pretty much everybody had one nowadays. Even Saul had one. If they were walking closer, that meant they weren't thinking of shooting them. The last thing Peter needed was to have to fight for Saul's life right now. Too much bad blood between them. They needed some time to let things smooth over and-

A low growl rumbled from Peter's throat as the two came close enough for him to recognize. The first, he hadn't seen yet in his week and a half on the island, was Zach Jamis. From what he remembered, Zach was never much a nice guy. Yet, he hadn't killed anyone yet, and the realization of that was a bit odd. Really, Peter would have been glad to see him if it wasn't for the other person following Zach: Raidon Naoko. Peter had been ready to gun him down the last time they'd met, and Raidon had done a wonderful job of distracting him then.

This time, he'd do it right.

"Stop right there," he said, punctuating each word with a moment's pause. He lifted the rifle at pointed it directly at Raidon. "Leave. Now. Not going to say it again."

If Raidon was trying to make some sort of protest, Peter didn't care. If Zach was trying to get him to back off, Peter didn't care. The only thing important now was the slow countdown from ten in Peter's head before he pumped Raidon with the rest of the rifle's magazine.

When he hit two, all hell broke loose.

Peter wasn't sure what came first: the gunshots echoing into the night, the impact of the bullets, or the sharp pain in his shoulder and stomach. It probably didn't matter all that much, all things considered. After all, he'd just gotten shot. Twice.

He stood there in shock for a moment, before adrenaline kicked in and got his brain and body working again. The was about to start in on Raidon and gun him down right then and there. Obviously, it was all his fault. Except the part where that made no logical sense since Peter hadn't seen Raidon shoot and he'd been standing less than ten meters away. Also, Raidon didn't look quite so healthy himself now.

A sharp yell rang out from behind him.

Shit.

He shrugged his backpack off. His shoulder screamed out in pain, and Peter would've screamed with it if he didn't clench his teeth. First-aid kit was always on top, but trying to get to it with his injured arm was mostly an exercise in pain and a little bit an exercise in futility. Still, while the pain fucking jhurt, other things were more important.

Saving lives was always more important.

After some agonizingly painful moments, which seemed to stretch for longer than it was supposed to, Peter had finally managed to get his first-aid kit. If there'd been time, if the shooter wasn't likely still nearby, Peter would've treated the others' wounds himself. Instead, he weakly tossed the small bag to Saul. The other boy was lying on the ground, clutching at his leg. Even in the dim light, Peter could make out the blood getting absorbed in his pants. Even if Saul made it out alive, he might not be able to walk after this.

No. Saul was going to get out of this alive. Zach too. The other boy was hunched over, shuddering in pain. But Peter didn't have the fucking time to deal with them and the shooter. Only thing he could do was pray.

His gaze swept over to Raidon. "Where from?" he hissed. Not waiting for a reply, he continued to scan, trying to figure it out. He'd like to think he could do amazing things like calculating the vectors of entry and using that to determine which way to shoot, but that would just be an exaggeration.

The rifle came up, his uninjured arm shaking from the weight of the gun. If he could hit anything firing like this, it would be more a miracle than the survival of the others. But he had to try. The gun roared in his hands, swinging erratically from the recoil of each shot. Didn't matter. He kept shooting into the trees. At least he could scare them off.

Peter kept firing, his whole body racked with tightly bottled pain, until the gun clicked dry.

He wanted to keep going. The other magazine was in his pocket. But his arms didn't want to move anymore.

He wanted to stay standing. But his legs gave way and he slumped against the wall of the church.

He looked at Saul. He looked at Zach. They needed to live. He'd protected them, right? He'd done what was right, and he'd keep doing it. As long as they lived through this, then nothing else mattered. Blood soaked his shirt. Red on white. As long as they lived through this, then at least this all meant something.

Who was he kidding? They'd been shot too. The chances of them surviving? Low enough. They were going to die. All four of them.

It felt stupid. It felt unfair. Peter couldn't do anything. Couldn't protect anybody. Couldn't save anybody. He was a failure. A worthless failure.

A long time ago, he'd made that promise. To protect Eiko. To protect people. To do it, he'd done what needed to be done. Shouldered their burdens. Killed people. He'd done it because it needed to be done. That's what he told himself. He'd done it because someone needed to do it.

Through closed eyes, he replayed it all. Every corpse he saw. Every name on the announcement. Every life he'd watched slipped away. Every life he took. Tiffany.

Worthless.

Failure.

There was nothing there to be proud of. Nothing to console him that he'd done something right.

No. There was. One broken, bruised, and bloodied boy on a boat.

Maybe that was enough.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. In a dim part of his mind, he noted that the breath was a lot shallower than he'd need, but there just wasn't enough energy to take a deeper breath.

When Peter was a child, he'd always wondered what death was like. Call it morbid, but on some level, it fascinated him. Was it a darkness that was like sleep but more final? Was it some otherworldly experience walking up to Heaven's gates? Maybe he'd just get dropped into the waiting room called Purgatory and sit around or do good deeds or pray until he got to go to Heaven. He'd wondered what the world would be like after he died. All he ever knew about the world was through his eyes and ears. He'd wondered if being in this world in this body in this time and place mattered.

Peter hoped it did.

B004: Peter Siu - DECEASED
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Point taken." Zach really hated when he was wrong.

Zach Jamis could feel the other kid's eyes on him. He was wary of Zach, and he could totally understand. He didn't like it, that was a completely different matter altogether. The boy understood though, and didn't speak of it.

Zach kept quiet through the next events. They ran into others. He didn't recognize them at first. He was zoning out at first, but then he shook it off and actually took a look at the guy that was talking.

...Oh. Ms. Choir was still alive? Shit. Zach couldn't stand him. Of all the fucking losers he had to run into, it had to be him. Peter was probably at three when Zach finally spoke.

"Go fuck yourself." He said. Politely.

Didn't even hesitate either. The thought of getting filled with more holes than a block of swiss cheese didn't even occur to him. His mood had just soured and Church Boy was to blame. He looked over at Raidon, back to Church Boy, and then realized.

He heard the noises when he spoke, but didn't pay them any mind. The others fell but Zach staggered back. Zach didn't realize what was going on, so he shrugged it off. Why is everyone dropping to the ground? Is something going on that he wasn't aware of? Was this some kind of joke?

Wait.

He looked at his bloody shoulder. Someone shot him?

Oh.

Zach sunk to his knees. A look of confusion spread over his face.

Well. Guess that's that. Pretty fucked up, huh Zach? Yeah, really fucked up. Extremely fucked up. In those few seconds, Zach didn't curse the gods, rise back up in order to fight back, cry, clutch his shoulder or pull the bullet out with his own nails. He just sat there, slouching over the ground, eyes staring directly at the dirt. He did nothing else.

Inhale. Exhale. Wait. It wasn't like that, no periods. Inhale Exhale Inhale Exhale. Like breathing was the hardest fucking thing in the world.

Zach didn't even know who the fuck shot at him. How fucked up was that?! Maybe he wasn't shot at all, maybe this was one of those mirages that you see when you go without water for so long. Didn't that happen in the desert though? Zach didn't know. Could happen in suburbia too for all he knew. What he did know was that he was hurt, bad. Didn't even have the energy to look up to see if Raidon was doing alright, and for once Zach regretted not worrying about him sooner. Too late. Just worried about himself, like always.

Things were getting bright now. Shit. When the hell did he drive into a tunnel? Wasn't he just outside?!

Zach Jamis began to think. About his life, all the things he'd never get to do, about Sam, about a certain girl that was haunting his thoughts. Everything. No words. Just silence.

Also, he figured none of this would have happened had Church Boy died on the first day. This was all his fault.

Fucking asshole.
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Raidon tensed, axe in hand, eyes fixed on Peter Siu, at the gun. He had reasoned that with the island's population so reduced they were bound to be hiding out in small clumps; he'd gone to the Parish operating on the assumption that he'd have plenty of warning of anyone coming (unlike the mayhem that had broken out in the Residential District). And yet again he'd been ambushed, caught off-guard.

So few people on the island. How do we keep finding each other?

Could he take the gun? Could he move that fast? He doubted it; even with both arms fully functional he'd never been the pinnacle of physical strength, and with only one arm left-




He was on his knees.

Wait.

Pain reached up from his guts and gnawed at his insides, burned inside him like a sun had been placed into his bowls, slowly scorching him alive.

W-wait, what?

"Where from?" he heard, tinny with distance. Where what? What was he asking? What had-



Gunshots. A blow like a stiff punch to the stomach. Pain.



No.

He knew this pain with the instinct of a desperate animal, knew it not in the deep, agonized way of a child but with a force as powerful as revelation, as prophecy, as insight. He knew it without fear, without exaggeration.

This is going to kill me.

The axe dropped from his hands, which moved slowly to the wound in his stomach oozing his life's blood.

I...I don't want to...
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
Saul stared at the bleak night sky. It stared back at him, pitch black, as if he was lying right at the boundary between life and death. The only way he knew he wasn't dead yet was the fact his leg still fucking hurt.

Something landed on the ground next to him. For a terrifying moment, Saul thought someone had thrown a grenade his way, primed to explode and end his life in a brutal and gory fashion. 'Just like what happened to Garry.' He just laid there and waited. What was the point of trying to escape? He knew he wouldn't be able to get out of the blast zone in time, even if he hobbled away as fast he could. He waited, waited some more, but no explosion occurred. He blinked, still only able to see blackness. He was still alive, the wound in his shin still burning and throbbing away.

More gunshots, much more closer this time, and then silence reigned again apart from the ringing in his ears. He turned his head round to Peter, at least, who he thought was Peter. In the dim light from the flashlight, he could see the boy slump to the floor and lay there, unmoving.

"Peter..." Saul gasped, crying out as he rolled over onto his stomach, his leg protesting at the sudden movement. He shook Peter's shoulder, trying to rouse him, but to no avail. He was non-responsive, dead to the world. "Fuck..."

Not just dead to the world, flat-out dead. They'd killed him.

Saul collapsed back onto his stomach and stretched his arm out. His fingertips came into contact with cold metal, Saul pushing himself up to get a clearer view of what was lying on the ground within his reach.

His gun; he'd dropped it when he was shot. He didn't hesitate in grabbing it. All at once, the feeling of helplessness evaporated into thin air, a sense of empowerment flooding his body. 'You bastard, you shot me, you actually fucking shot me. And you're still out there, aren't you? Planning your next move, watching and waiting to strike, waiting to finish me off, huh? Well I can't let you do that, Star Fox.'

Saul briefly wondered why he thought up that last line. Must've heard it from Garry at some point. Whatever, he had someone extremely dangerous to deal with. He aimed the gun at where he thought the original gunshots had originated from. The dim moonlight offered very little light to go on, but Saul no longer cared.

"Fuck you, you bastard!" he roared, pulling the trigger over and over.

Five shots rang out, followed by some clicks.
Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V5. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

The Past: V4 Characters

Stuff from Chat

Cards Remaining (V5) - HERO: 1 /// SWAP: 0
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
Luck, it seemed, favoured Ema that night. From behind the cover of her tree, she was pretty sure she saw all three of them go down. No wait, there were four, right? Or was that the one that'd been inside? Fuck, might even have been five. It was dark and she didn't trust her capacity to have counted everyone, or not to have counted some roughly man-sized objects as people. Point was, she saw people fall. If anyone else was up, they'd probably be all shock-and-awed, easy pickings.

So she bent low to the ground, dropped her daypack at her feet, stowed the empty guns inside and grabbed the first loaded one she found. "Vera..." she muttered, trailing off as soon as the word had left her mouth. Where'd that come from? Why 'Vera'? Because this is her gun, and she called it Vera. Guess it's, or, she's, called that then. Ema thrust Vera into her pocket, and pulled her shiny new katana out as well. Lighter than the falcata, and infinitely cooler, too. It'd do quite nicely for finishing off anyone that down but not out.

Cover-based shooting and plenty of executions? Oh man, I'm Marcus. It's me. Wait, wasn't I Price earlier? Fuck knows, just get it over with.

With a gun in her pocket and a katana in her hand, the flat of the blade resting across her shoulder in a suitably cool-looking manner, the redhead vacated her makeshift cover, and made to close the distance between herself and the group at the church. By the time she realised there was someone still fit to retaliate, his movement rendered pretty much imperceptible by the darkness, it was much too late.

Five shots, ironically Ema could count those well enough. Five shots broke the near-silence of the evening, and before she even had time to order herself to do a barrel roll and avoid the oncoming gunfire, at least one of them had gone into her shin, and from the feel of it, out the other side. Whilst the would-be killer wasn't very familiar with the sensation of being shot, the blood running down both the front and back of her left leg made the truth quite obvious after a while.

Naturally, she fell. It was painful, of course it was painful. Someone had just drilled a neat round hole straight through her leg, how could that not hurt? Ema landed on her left knee, screaming aloud from the intense, impossible pain. Forget how it could not hurt, how could anything possibly be as painful as this? The comparative scratch she'd received to her shoulder days before did not do justice to the agony of a real bullet wound.

Wait a second. Have you come so far, to let it end like this?

Whose voice was that? It was wholly unrecognisable, and yet so familiar... and it had a point. Twelve days. Four, maybe even six by now, kills. A lot to answer for, with survival as her only excuse. She'd come incredibly far, more than anybody would've reasonably expected of her. And now it was going to end because of a single bullet, physically capable of doing little worse than giving her a limp?

This is the challenge. Get back up.

No more shots were forthcoming, maybe it had just been a dying attempt at revenge. And Ema herself certainly wasn't dead. She was in a lot of pain, she'd just now realised that her face was streaked with the tears it had brought about, and she'd probably never walk the same again, but she wasn't dead.

I dare you. What are you so afraid of?

Funny, the inflection on "afraid" sounded a lot like her dad. Come to think of it, "up" had an inflection awfully similar to how Hayley said it. No, silly, frivolous thoughts. Maybe they were thinking of her, one way or another, but that was all. It was her own mind telling her to get up. That voice of hopeful optimism that had been so absent, for so many months now.

Ema decided to honour its return, and she forced herself up onto her feet. The pain that met the motion was astonishing, and for a moment, she had to lean on the katana to stay upright. It passed, she took a tentative step. Every time her left foot met ground, lightning bolts of pain shot through her entire leg, fizzling out around the hip. But she kept going. I see you... but I'm not afraid of you.

First stop, then, the Asian-looking guy closest to her. Step by lip-biting step, she approached. Still no more gunfire in her direction.

She had nothing to be afraid of.

She, Ema Ryan, improbable and immortal.

Right?
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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Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Gm allowed.)

Fucking. Wrong.

You see. The best part about being a coward was that you didn't get hurt. In Survival in the Fittest, the scared mice are the pain virgins. They don't have to worry about getting shot, unless the tree trunk they're hiding in grows arms and finds a shotgun. Getting shot still hurt. The first time always hurts. Just a matter of how long you can put it off.

Zach used to think he was a scared mouse, both in school and on the island. But he wasn't a scared mouse. No. Now he knew the truth.

Zach got to his feet. Bitch didn't notice.

Just. Who. The fuck. Does this bitch think she is?

Did she know who she was fucking with?? Did. She. Know. Who he was?

He was Zach Motherfucking Jamis! He was so fucking great that he didn't have to lift a finger to get where he was!

"Oh, killing people is cool, so why don't I go kill as many people as I can! That would be soooo cool! I am soooo amazing! People will remember me!" Fuck you. Fuck everything about you. Do you know how many people that he could have killed? Zach could have killed everyone with his bare hands! He was a powerhouse! You? You're just a scared mouse!

You know why he didn't kill anyone? Because he didn't want to. That's not what Zach would ever do. Zach Jamis did what Zach Jamis wanted to do. Always.

Ginger was wrong. He wasn't a coward, or weak. Quite the contrary. Zach was the strongest person on this island. This proved it.

It was funny, how she thought she was relevant. Like people liked little bland mice. So fucking funny. He started laughing.

Ha ha ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Then he stopped. It was hard to breathe, took him a second. Then. He turned to the girl, brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Hey Mizore." Zach grinned. "Hey, I know you're still alive - didn't waste my time saving your ass just to die on me - Got a last request."

He took a step back. He found it hard to keep his balance.

"You get back to the mainland, there's a chick named Lacy. Lacy Goodnoe - just call her Lacy - you find her, cuz I'd never have the nerve, you find her and you tell that bitch I love her! You do that and we're even!"

He reached into his pocket.

"You better fucking do it - or I'll never forgive you - "

Bitch attacked before he could pull his hand back out. But it didn't matter. Zach got her to turn around. That's all he wanted. He couldn't even kill her. His gun was elsewhere.

The gun in his hand wasn't lethal. Because it wasn't really a gun. Because it was just his hand, pointing in her face. Like a gun.

Bang. You're dead.

Zach Jamis wanted to go out as Zach Jamis. So, really, even though he was good as deas, Zach was the only winner in this fight.

One last time. For the road.

Inhale. Exhale.

Then.

B101, Zach Jamis : Deceased
15 Students Left
Edited by Ciel, Oct 1 2011, 08:42 PM.
V6

G052 - Reed, Jasmine - 0% - Falchion - START END
G060 - Pfeiffer, Scout - 100% - Sawlaska Thunderfuck 5000 - START
G025 - Reyes, Audrey - 0% - Nunchaku - START END

releases greatest hits album, is an one-hit wonder
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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[Likewise on the GMing. And breaking order for the sake of flow, and getting this done on time.]

Alright, this shit is on. Japanese guy was the guy I kept hearing on the announcements, right? Raidon? Rai-something, at least. This is probably him. Never heard he died.

Katana gleaming in the moonlight, Ema strode forwards, as quickly as her short legs would carry her, silhouetted body and deadly weapon making her as intimidating as a five foot waif of a girl could possibly be.

Never heard he was dead, yeah, that's about to change.

But then something else happened. Maybe Raidon had the most kills. Maybe he was her primary concern, until now. Maybe he still ought to have been. But someone that should've been dead getting up and yelling makes a pretty good distraction from priorities, when one's prioritising who to kill. The one that's still mobile is the most dangerous by default. Worse still, the sarcastic fucker was mocking her. As if Ema was concerned with being cool, or being memorable.

"How about fuck you? I'm not going home cool, I'm just going there alive."

Except she didn't actually say that, not aloud. She thought she did, but in truth, thought it was all she did. Her mouth didn't have time for words, only to break into just the slightest hint of a sneer. The boy was laughing at her. He saw his doom approaching him, and he was laughing at it. Maybe she envied him a little for that, being able to accept his fate with a grin. She probably wouldn't be able to. What she didn't envy, naturally, was the fate in question. He'd thought it was a good idea to mock her. Her, Ema bloody Ryan, by now quite truly a bona-fide serial killer and self-declared winner of version four.

Oh no, you get to suffer for that.

So the girl kept moving. Her left hand, previously hovering by her pocket, her gun, wandered up to the hilt of her weapon. She'd carved Ma'afu up pretty easily before, and if popular culture was to be believed, well, katanas are just better. Maybe she wouldn't black out this time, either. Maybe she'd get to revel in it, enjoy the godlike power to sculpt flesh, to end life. Yeah, maybe that would be a fun thing to experience. And as she walked, her new target started monologuing. Before the word Mizore, she almost thought he was addressing her. Nope, just something to someone who had apparently escaped, something about a girl he liked. Well fuck him, the escapees were dead, just like her Hayley. Or maybe they weren't dead, maybe this Lacy would get to watch him die, right after that touching little confession. Heh, I almost hope she does. Could only be fairer if she got to pull the proverbial trigger herself. Bitch. Here, let me make him smile for the cameras...

"You better fucking do it - or I'll never forgive you - "

Shit.
He was going for something in his pocket. A gun? Why hadn't Ema thought of that? She had a gun, what was to say he didn't? Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckbollockshitfuckcrap. Lots of other assorted curses. She wanted to close the gap now, sprint to the cunning little bastard, but as soon as her left foot fell, the jolt of pain, and the pitiful cry that followed, reminded the girl why she hadn't been hurrying to begin with. No matter. She could reach him quickly enough, her katana was long enough, he wouldn't be able to shoot her. No, no way, not now, not after all she'd done to get here. So, when she was sure she was close enough, Ema let go with her left hand. Let it drop.

She shifted all of her weight onto her right foot, turned her body around with it.

She thrust forwards with her right arm, swinging with all the momentum her small could give.

And her blade struck true, piercing the boy's throat.

Looking down, before the blood obscured her vision, she realised too late - for all the difference that it made - that all Zach had pulled on her was a gun made of his own hand. Index- and middle-finger for the barrel, ring- and little-finger for the grip. Even had his thumb outstretched to serve as the hammer. And then the blood did obscure her vision. And how. The movies and games didn't exaggerate all that much, when it came to the amount of mess a cut jugular could make. Even a whole sword's length away, her already-ruined shoes managed to receive a fair quantity of it, even the lower half of her jeans. Reflexively, she stepped back, pulling the blade free of his flesh. Sorry Lacy, looks like I got away with bringing a knife to a gun-fight. My bad. The girl couldn't hold back a rather sadistic chuckle at the bad joke there.

And then she turned around. That wasn't her first mistake.

Her first mistake had been taking her eyes off of Raidon for so long.

She should've known, if Zach wasn't dead, he might not have been either.
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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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Face slumped into the dirty, dusty floor of the Parish. When had that happened? When had he...

Does it matter? Feel that warmth in your hands. Feel that weakness in your stomach.

I tried. So hard.

Lost a finger. Got strangled. Stabbed. Beaten. Fell off a goddamn cliff. Lived through all that. Kept fighting. Kept moving.

So fuckin' frail.

Oh, does it matter?

Footsteps, walking towards him, slow and steady. The killer. The one who'd put an end to them.

All my cold logic and my choices and my-

Stop bitching. Game's over. Let it end.

"Oh, killing people is cool, so why don't I go kill as many people as I can!"

It intruded on his thoughts--on his quiet, belabored agony. He looked up, blinking. That's not fair, he thought dumbly. I didn't want to do it like that. I didn't want to-

"That would be soooo cool! I am soooo amazing! People will remember me!"

I-it wasn't about that! It was about--come on, I just wanted to live and...

"Hey, Mizore."

Clarity. Clarity that did not banish the pain but banished the darkness around it. Clarity that burned inside his mind, burned through the tired words he was trying to smother himself with.

"Hey, I know you're still alive."

He didn't hear the rest, but he knew the voice now. Zach. Zach Jamis. The stranger who owed him nothing, the stranger who'd helped him save the girl who deserved it more than anybody. He was still a stranger, even now, as they'd walked together. Raidon should have talked to him, learned about him, learned about this towering good form trapped inside this stranger's body but he'd been so fucking hurt. Charlie, man, she hadn't deserved it, and he'd killed her casually, accidentally, without malice.

"Alison," he mumbled under his breath. "Scott."

He didn't want to befriend another dying soul. He didn't want another Julian Avery.

A single quick whisk, something swift parting the air. The quiet, mushy hiss of a blade slipping into meat. Another body slumped to the ground. Zach Jamis didn't speak anymore.

I'm a scared rat, backed into a corner, lashing out blindly at anything that comes near.

Well, so be it. Even for a rat, he'd had a good run.

The girl turned around, droplets of blood slinking to the floor. Raidon was on his feet again, hands clenched around his axe. He pulled back, putting both shoulders--even the injured one--into the effort.

He swung.
Edited by Grim Wolf, Oct 2 2011, 03:07 PM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
[ *  *  * ]
[One last breach of order, getting out of dodge so the others can finish up before deadlines hit and such.]

It all seemed to be going so well. Ema's blade came free of the boy's neck quite easily, spewing another gout of his blood onto the ground. He fell forwards, quite clearly lifeless. Rapid exsanguination tends to kill, after all. Two down, then, assuming the motionless body was dead too. Two to go, in that case. Two bodies that didn't look quite dead yet. Then whoever was indoors, if they hadn't already fled or hidden. As she turned to face Raidon, the girl had no reason to expect what was awaiting her. No, she was thinking how she really didn't want to have to hunt down the Parish's occupant before she could get to sleep. How it was late, and she really needed to bandage her shin. And hope there were painkillers in the first aid kit; even with adrenaline running strong, it hurt like a bitch.

It couldn't compare to the pain that'd come next.

Because when she turned around to kill her next target, she found him standing. On his feet, even slouching, the boy easily had half a foot on her, and... well, almost everybody in the school was more muscular than Ema Ryan. It was more the proximity that lent him such an intimidating air. That and the darkness, and the axe he was putting all he had into swinging for her head. Actually, it was mostly the axe.

Had she not turned, the girl would probably be dead. The axe would've smashed through the top of her skull, and either killed her outright, or rendered her quite incapable of defending herself from a following attack. But she was lucky. Perhaps the several years prior, enduring so many small misfortunes, had been building up to this absurdly fortunate moment. Maybe the "luck of the Irish" was on her side, for once in her life. Because Ema saw the attack coming just about early enough to jerk her upper body away, rendering the impact less than fatal.

A wordless cry split the stillness of the night.

Less than fatal. Marginally. There were no words for the agony Ema Ryan was experiencing in that moment, no curse, no exclamation of anything could possibly measure up to the feeling of Raidon's axe biting into the flesh of the redhead's face, cleaving through the soft, pale skin and into the blood and muscle below. A clean, straight cut was left as she fell away, and from the lack of any vision in it, even any irritation from the blood that was surely flooding it, she knew her left eye was lost. She didn't quite comprehend it, though, only recognised that there was something wrong with her sight. That boy, that boy that ought to be dead, he'd taken something of great importance away from her. It was all she knew. There was room only for pain, and unbridled hatred, not just hatred, fear. Fear of this... this nameless monster that had permanently maimed her.

There was only one physical reaction. In her haste to pull away, to swat the axe away from her flesh, Ema stumbled back on her wounded leg, flailed her arms weakly, dropping her katana somewhere behind where her body came to land on the ground below. Was this how she'd appeared to all the people she'd killed? A nameless, horrible creature, a bringer of nothing but pain and then death? A force that could be neither reasoned with nor stopped?

...was this it?

No, no, she was Ema Ryan. Ema motherfucking Ryan, the immortal badass and future winner. So he'd wounded her, so she'd never get her left eye back, big deal. She didn't need both, she could carry on. She just needed to survive this, somehow. That's the thing about real life, though, you can't load up a save from just before you fucked up, do it over without making the mistakes again. You have to roll with what you're saddled with, do the best you can with what you have. And when what you have is a deep wound running the length of your face, and a hole running right through your leg, rolling with it isn't easy. There was really only one thing she could do, in fact. Remember the ace in the hole that she still possessed. A gun in her pocket. Not just any gun. Vera.

She couldn't say how long it was between falling, writhing in pain on the floor, and gaining the lucidity to come to that realisation. It could've been seconds, could've been minutes. All she knew was, by the time she'd wrenched Vera out of her jeans pocket and taken very shaky aim at Raidon, he hadn't killed her, but in the blur of blood and sweat and pain, he was holding something that was probably a gun as well. Parlay? No. It was down to the wire, less than 20, maybe even less than 15, people left. Every kid for themselves, kill or be killed. No more time for alliances, or truces... nor mercy, or hesitation.

Ema pulled the trigger as many times as she was able. Her ears told her it had been three times. The sounds were answered in kind, and by now it was easy enough to distinguish between the familiar register of the Taurus and the foreign sound of whatever it was the boy was firing at her. Miraculously, as she rolled over to her knees, scrambled up to her feet, the girl wasn't hit. Maybe she'd hit him, thrown off his aim. Hard to say. It was barely possible to tell he'd been aiming anything at her at all. It didn't matter, either. Even after he'd gotten up to retaliate, Ema had been able to tell it was a dying attempt at revenge. He was already finished, he just didn't realise it yet. Her first priority had to be surviving to take the credit for it. Forget the other boy, forget the chapel's occupant, Ema needed to escape, needed to treat her wounds.

She needed to survive, that's what it was all about.

All it had ever been about.

...okay, maybe there was a little bit of looking cool, too, and after shoving Vera unceremoniously back into her pocket, Ema couldn't resist flipping Raidon the bird as she staggered away into the night.

[Ema Ryan --> Used to be a sweet girl...]
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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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The blade tore straight through--clean, bloody, beautiful. But she had moved back, he felt the heft of his blade cleave through, too shallow (should have been harder, shit) and she was staggering back and reaching for her pocket and

Oh fuck, she had a gun.

Raidon let the axe fly, hurtling off into the dark, and threw himself backwards, to slide alongside Peter Siu. The gun was still in his hands; he grabbed, it, fired, heard dry clicks, shit I'm gonna-

And then he saw the magazine in his pocket; his eyes flashed wide, he grabbed for it and staggered to one side, as bullets raced out over him. Clumsy, slow, desperate, but he got the magazine in and turned the gun back the way he'd come, firing one shot, two shots, three. There followed a brief shower of bullets, scorching through the air, taunting them both with their capacity for fatality.

He fired until his gun went dry and then he tossed the rifle aside. There was no time for anything else, no time for thought, no time for plans; a crescendo had swept him to his feet, hardened his mind with pain until it had obtained diamond toughness. He had no time left for this mysterious, brutal girl, who'd fallen upon them like a falcon and torn them to shreds. It was time to leave.

Scared little rat left a mark, heh.

(Naoko Raidon concluded in Rapture)
Edited by Grim Wolf, Oct 11 2011, 01:59 AM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


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JamesRenard
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Furry on Ice
[ *  *  * ]
Saul had actually quite surprised when he heard the screaming in the near distance. Not only because he must've managed to hit the unseen target with a lucky shot out of the five, but also because the person had been a female. 'Well how about that, was expecting that to be a guy.' He waited there, hardly moving a muscle and wondering if the shot had been fatal. He briefly wondered if his wound was fatal.

One of the other guys nearby began shouting out at the killer. Saul would have told him to shut up, but a: it would have been too late anyway, and b: The person out there could be dead anyway, so the guy's raising of his voice wouldn't have mattered much anyway.

Except she wasn't completely dead. Saul could heard her approaching. 'Oh God you moron, you absolute fucking moron!' Saul angrily thought, trying to keep as still as a statue as she neared the fallen boys. 'This is it, she's going to kill us all because you just had to open your big fat mouth.' Saul had Garry's gun in his bag, but the girl would have buried a bullet in his skull before he'd have been able to unzip the bag, let alone acquire the gun and fire it. There was the unmistakeable sound of flesh being sliced into, the boy's shouting coming to a halt as he became the girl's second victim. Saul waited, eyes scrunched shut, awaiting the same fate to befall him. A lone tear trickled down his face.

There was another sound of skin and muscle being cut open.

It wasn't his, though.

The same female scream pierced the night, only a lot, lot louder. A heavy weight fell to to ground, and then there were more gunshots, too many for the scared male sprawled on the grass to count. He cried out, but his voice was thankfully drowned out by the deafening noises that came from just yards away. 'I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die,' he thought over and over. All it would take was one errant round to end it all, for it all to be over.

And then it was all over, not in the way Saul had been expecting.

The girl ran off, as well as the person she'd been exchanging gunshots with. They were gone, taking their fight away from the church. Away from him.

Saul slowly extended an arm along the ground and reached for his bag that lay just a yard or two away from him. He pulled it towards him, unzipped it and rummaged through it for the Smith & Wesson that had belonged to Garry. Saul sat up, looked over past the bag and saw the first aid kit that Peter had thrown to him shortly before his demise. Snatching it up and practically ripping it open, he grabbed a handful of bandages. He began to tend to his wound as best he could, pulling his jeans up and wrapping the bandage around the injury. 'I am one lucky mother, just to get shot in the leg, that's for sure. Could have been a lot worse-'

An excruciating pain suddenly flared up in his upper body, like someone had speared him right through the back, striking his right shoulder blade. For the briefest moment, Saul actually attempted to shrug the sudden pain off and continue wrapping his leg up in bandages. But then the sound of the gunshot finally reached his ears, a gunshot that had originated from right behind him. It took him several seconds to realize that he'd just been shot in the back, the bullet punching through his right lung and out the other side of his body.

'Oh...'

Saul stopped moving, stopped tending to his leg wound and just froze in position, feeling a warmth spreading over the right side of his chest.

'So... after all that, I get... shot in the fucking back? This... this isn't fair!'

He stared right ahead, his eyes unfocused. The gun lay by his side, having been placed there while he was bandaging his leg. Had Saul any remaining strength in his arms, he would have fired it back at his attacker. 'Who was it, who shot me? Peter's dead, the other guy's dead, those other two ran off. There was no one else-Oh... Oh Saul, you idiot.'

The girl, the girl that Peter had been conversing with when he arrived. He'd completely forgotten all about her in the ensuing fracas, and that lapse in his memory had come back to bite him squarely in the ass. He slumped over onto his left side and just lay there, finding it harder to breathe with each inhalation he made. A bandage was still gripped in his hand, stained red by the blood that slowly spilled from his leg. More blood flowed from his back and chest at a faster rate. 'It really is all over... guess I'll see you soon, Garry,'

Saul's senses dulled one by one, quickly sending the teen into unconsciousness. Right as he passed on, he swore he heard one last sound. It wasn't a final gunshot, another scream, or one final heartbeat.

It was the howling of a wolf.

B141: SAUL FETTERALF - DECEASED
14 STUDENTS REMAINING
Edited by JamesRenard, Aug 18 2012, 01:55 PM.
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V5 Characters
B006: Darren Fox - Weapon(s): Lego "Creator" bucket /// Status: ALIVE /// Current location: Meltdown (Nuclear Plant - The Reactors)
Thread chain: O | O=O=O | O=O=

B030: Luca Johanssen - Weapon(s): N/A /// Status: DECEASED /// Body's location: Leap of Faith (Northern Coast - The Zipline Attraction) /// Rank: 134/152
Thread chain: O | O=O
The Future: Character Concept(s) (Subject to change, info may be added or deleted)

The Past: V4 Characters

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Ciel
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"Thatís not a prediction, thatís a spoiler.Ē
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Aston Bennett was sure. She did not want to know the reasons why. A waste of a bullet, yet again. It must have been that slim shred of pity that wiggled it's way out from her iron cage that forced her to shoot. Who knows.

All she knew was that Aston wasn't a complete monster. That was for damn sure.

To say that Aston had seen everything would be an understatement. She was practically there, only inches away from the mayhem. She tried to talk herself into going out. Held herself back. Would do her no good. Best to stay out of it. She was glad for it.

And to think. It took a slaughter for her to realize the piles of bodies that had been there for days.

Was she daydreaming when she came to the Parish? Was she still in that dream, just more self-aware?

. . . she didn't have the answer to that. Couldn't even guess.

Aston hated sleep, especially here. She couldn't tell her dreams from her nightmares.

The field, a sickly shade of green, covered in blood. Aston did not sneak out. She waited until she couldn't take the silence anymore. The door was open, silent and unnerving, eyes studying the layout. Her Mosin-Nagant was back in her hands. She had her things, prepared for a fight.

She never found that fight. Instead she found the boy.

A wounded boy who was not at all dead. Aston was surprised. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? How the hell could he still be alive, after all of that?

She reached her hand out

Only a few inches away.

Pulled the trigger once.

Didn't need a second.

Aston Bennett tried to convince herself that putting a bullet in his back was the biggest favor she could have given him. She knew that wasn't her reason why. She tried not to think of the real reason. She was afraid that there was no reason. The thought, the idea, the concept of her going off the cuff and killing anyone scared her deeply.

There was a reason, but again it scared her to consider it.

She didn't want to trust this one, just to end up killing him anyway. Would hurt too much. And she wasn't sure whether he would kill her if she made herself known. Too much of a risk. Had to be the reason. Had to.

No. Aston. Don't think about it.

It was the best decision. At the time.

... Besides, what the hell was she supposed to do? Patch him up? Carry him around? Craft a makeshift wheelchair out of treebark? Become a protector? A savior? A hero? He would have nothing to give her. He wasn't a friend, a sibling, a lover. Nothing to her. He had to prove himself in order to gain her trust. No rewards other than decreasing her odds of winning and a brief feeling of pride. Aston Bennett was many things, but she wasn't a good-doer boy scout who got off for helping old women across streets. She was not evil either. No joy from killing him. No one had the right to judge her. She wanted to do good.

She closed her eyes.

So just because he was still alive did not mean she had to let him live. Her mind went numb just thinking about it. She couldn't have let him live. What if he survived until the end? What was she supposed to do then? Kill him? What if she couldn't bring herself to kill him? If she hesitated? If she held back What then? What if he started crying and begged for her to let him live?! What then?! Was she supposed to feel remorse?! Take pity on the weakling, who she didn't even talk to in school?! Was she just supposed to let the wounded motherfucker win after she lost so much?! Or was she supposed to turn into a monster and cut the ties?! At least the fucking monster gets to live!

Gasping like a fish out of water. Held her hand against her heart. Calmed herself.

There were no signs of anyone else in the area. She waited anyway, just to get a grip on things. Then she did the only thing that made sense, at the time.

She started looking through the leftovers.

The same twinge of guilt that struck her as she robbed Joe. Made her feel like coughing up. She killed it as fast as she killed the crippled boy. It did no good. She shut that part of her out.

Food. Water. Med kits.

Most importantly, there were guns and other weapons. Plenty.

The boy she had killed had one, she pocketed it. It was small, but it was a gun. He had a magic 8 ball and a sledgehammer too. No way in hell she was taking a chance on those pieces of crap. She turned to the boy with the opened up throat and found two more guns. One was a revolver. She liked the look of it. Holding it made her feel like a hero. It had no bullets in it, and Aston had to spend a minute reloading it. She kept that out, weighing the Mosin-Nagant in the crook of her arm. The other was a machine gun. It was empty. This one was a strange one, keeping two empty guns on him. Maybe he expected to bash someone's head open. Or maybe he didn't plan on killing anyone. Just like her. Lot of good that did her, keeping that mindset.

The last had a gun too. Put that one in her bag. Aston figured he was the one who spoke to her. She recognized him, but she couldn't recall his name. At least she would have made his death quick, if the circumstances were right. His gun was okay. Found a sword too. She fashioned it next to her Naginata. It was heavy, but it fit in with the makeshift sword. It worked.

That's when she saw it. Saw 'it'. At first she had no idea what it was. It looked like a gun. She wasn't sure of that. Could be a toy, for all she knew. Regardless, she let her other rifle lay on the ground and picked up the new one. It was big enough to fit in both of her hands, at the very least. She studied it for a moment. Regarded the big shoulder, the small barrel. Looked through the sight. A sniper rifle? A machine gun? Both? She hoped it was both.

Aston told herself to cut off her emotions a million times over. Despite that, she couldn't help grinning. This. This was why she held back. It was badass. The gun looked nasty, like it was made to kill people. She was Rambo, drilling bullets into countless enemy soldiers. She didn't want to do that. Wanted to kill as few people as possible. However, the gun felt great to hold in her hands. It was a gift, to her, for being so dedicated. The powers that be (if they even existed) were behind her. Aston had a chance.

Then she pulled the trigger. Empty.

Fuck.

She found the other magazine in the boy's pocket. She reloaded, clicked the safety on just in case she accidentally fired. She looked down at her other rifle. She didn't want to leave it, just in case someone came along and took it. Aston couldn't have that. It could end up being used on her. A little extra weight wouldn't kill her, for now.

She thought that. Until she found the katana.

It was the same one that cut open the boy's neck. She was certain.

Aston was confused. This was the attacker's sword, right? Why would they leave it behind? She didn't ask questions. She picked it up, weighed it in her hands. She decided she was keeping it. She dropped the scythe, put the other sword in there. Now she had the katana and Joe's sword, so Joe could fight with her.

Joe would want this, she promised herself. They all would. You weren't a hero, or a saint, you're doing bad things to people. But at the expense of your own soul, you can make the souls of the dead rest easy. She made a promise to them too. Joshua, Alice, Joe and the three dead boys. When she saw the girl with the cut in her face, she would make sure to lance something off. Maybe more than one body part. Who knows? Aston found the thought perfectly rational and not at all crazed. Sounded perfectly understandable. An eye for an eye... Well, she could worry about that monster after she found the girl who killed Joe and made her suffer. Other girl should be glad she wasn't the bitch who killed Joe, damn glad that she was getting better treatment. Her death would be a night at the Marriott in comparison.

Not that revenge was the biggest thing on her plate.

It was all about survival, she reminded herself.

Scolded herself for thinking otherwise.

Fucking idiot.

Revolver in one pocket, Bersa Thunder in the other. Swords behind her, bloodstained and ready. Two pistols in her bag, a rifle and a sword with a curve. And lastly was the rifle. She would make sure to read the documentation. Use every bullet wisely. Like each one was the last one.

Three down. Plenty to go.

Aston Bennett was close. Close wasn't going to cut it. Perhaps with this rifle, the odds were in her favor. She figured. She hoped.

(Aston Bennett continued elsewhere...)
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