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Rolodex of Hate; (Open)
Topic Started: Aug 13 2016, 04:45 PM (1,186 Views)
Espi
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Death By Truth
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Blair Moore continued from Asymptote))

She could still see her victim's face.

The expression of fear, real or added in as time went on, was burned into Blair's brain every time she blinked or got distracted for even a second. She felt distant, separate from reality, like she wasn't in control of her body anymore. She walked zombielike, both her shoulders sore from sharing the weight of her bag, arms limp, lips slightly parted. She was dead too, in a way. A selfish way, because she still breathed and Jennifer didn't. But soon they'd have that in common. A small comfort, really.

She saw the buildings when she arrived, breathless, at the end of the bridge. She made her way to the doors with barely any consideration. Logic dictated people would flock to homier places, but Blair could not muster the energy to care. If there was a chair in there she'd-

Okay, no. She needed to avoid words like 'kill' or 'death' now. The implication of that phrase made her double over retching.

Her breathing was rattling by the time she got into the building. She wasn't having a flareup, not yet at least, but the fact that she was already at a disadvantage was only adding to her huge-ass pile of concerns. Even if she won, her days were numbered. That wasn't so bad by itself, she had therapy enough to get over it to an extent, but if she was the sole survivor it made everything seem a little les meaningful. Fantastic.

Damn, she wished she could go watch some Doctor now. Fuck it, while she was wishing just have the Doctor arrive here to save them and punch Danya in the face.

Immediately upon arrival, Blair looked down the main hallway and started to walk. She'd love a chance to find a place to rest, but knowing her luck the doors would all be locked. She wasn't exactly equipped to bust open a lock, so she might as well just explore for now, make sure the place was-

"Ahhh!" Blair screamed, stepping back as she rounded a corner into a smaller hallway to find a girl standing in front of an open door, with a blonde guy inside the door, barely visible from Blair's angle. She could definitely see the girl's sword, though. That didn't help.

Hands held in the air, Blair started to speak diplomatically, but before she got the chance to go beyond, 'I-" then she started coughing, painfully, her shitty lungs struggling with their usual coat of mucus. Wonderful.
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
After a few moments, Blair managed to recover her wits and stop hacking. Panting slightly, Blair looked over at the girl. Her name was...Maria or something? She had a food blog or something, and Blair knew next to nothing else about her other than that. She hadn't even seen the thing itself, just heard about it. Was it even a blog? Whatever.

There was also a guy in the doorframe, who Blair at least knew a bit better. Noah was one of those comedian types, and while Blair usually found that kind of thing annoying, at least Noah wasn't the type to screw around in class. So points to him, she supposed.

Wait what the fuck was he carrying? It looked like a plastic sling-ball toys, Jai alai or something, made of metal and was that a sawblade he was putting in it? Oh shit. They were both armed. She was not. This could be bad.

Blair raised her hands above her head, trying to maintain a steady breathing rate, and said, "Yeah, I'm all for clam. Uh, calm. Sorry." Damn, she was mixing up her words, she was so nervous. "No but seriously, if you guys are cool, I'm just gonna...rest, yeah."

An intense pain went through Blair's stomach, her body's protest against her running around carrying a heavy bag for like half an hour.

Then she puked, damn-near projectile style, sending half-digested remnants of her last meal across the floor.
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Blair, coughing from the acrid burning in her throat, wiped her face. She slowed her breathing, stepped back into the hall and sidled up against the wall to give the other two room to step away from the puddle of puke. Her innards hurt, and the taste in her mouth made her wish she had a whole tube of toothpaste to clean it out with.

First, though, she needed to talk. These two didn't seem to be actively murderous, at least not yet. If they were, she thought grimly, she'd be dead already. "Noah, and...Maria, right?" Blair said, almost at a whisper's volume. She was just about to offer her own name when another person arrived

Blair whipped around with a gasp, startled as the other girl entered. In all honesty she'd been so busy being sick that she hadn't recognized the incoming sounds of footfalls. "Sorry, you...surprised me." She said, her voice soft. "Sandra, isn't it?" She knew Sandra a bit better than the other two, having seen her around at the skate park on occasion. She was nice, but Blair didn't really know her beyond being kind of hyper.

"Sorry about the mess, I..." Blair felt her stomach cramp again, and she winced. Holding in her emotions was causing her physical pain, the trauma of what happened to Jennifer, it was too much. Not listening to Noah's comment, she staggered away from the group, towards the lobby, where she sat down on a bench.

Then she put her hands over her face and started crying.
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The foodie girl, Maria whatserface, ran out past Blair, who could barely tell who it was through her fingers.

This was so unfair. She didn't do anything that bad, did she? She could be a bitch at times, sure, but what kind of girl was always a perfect little angel? It didn't matter anymore, did it. The strong, the ruthless, the amoral; whatever classification you wanted to use, one group would pull out a survivor, and that person had to kill someone.

It had occurred to her, with a growing dread, that it might not count that Blair had merely startled Jennifer off the bridge. As horrible as it was, she hadn't exactly pushed the other girl to her death; the blood on her hands was indirect, not from true malicious or violent intent.

If Blair wanted to live, she might need to kill someone again.

Could she do it? Doubtful. She wasn't exactly the peak of fitness. Her strength and stamina were lacking, and though she could skate well that didn't translate to fighting. And she was unarmed. Still, if she found the right situation...

What was she even thinking?! She could maybe, maybe kill someone, but would she? Should she? Those were way harder questions. Realistically, she offered the least amount of value for survival. She wasn't going to live very long even if she did go home. And having the stomach to kill was, quite literally, not something she possessed as of now.

So lost in these thoughts was Blair that it took her a second to realize Noah was talking to her, still holding that jai alai or whatever it was. Blair looked up at him, and for a moment something strange happened. She was angry, angry at him, furious that he had seen her so weak and vulnerable, and angry at herself for letting it happen.

Her face was still neutral, though, when she said, "Yeah, no, I'm okay. I..." Oh god, was she going to tell him what happened? "I saw someone die. Jennifer something, tall, glasses? She killed herself, jumped off the bridge." Blair's voice was still frail, wobbling with potential tears.
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Blair gingerly sipped the water before capping it. It did help, a little.

"I woke up on the bridge. I threw away my weapon-it was useless, a big heavy shield-and walked. I saw Jennifer, and before I could say anything she jumped. And that's what happened."

It was a lie, of course. Blair didn't really want to lie, but did she have another choice? The two were both armed, it seemed. If they thought she had a part in Jennifer's death, they might turn violent. At the very least, they'd chase her away. And right now, Blair didn't need to deal with that.

She needed to think, needed to plan, needed something, anything to cling to. She didn't want to die pointlessly. Well, she didn't want to die at all, obviously, but fuck if that was going to happen. She had very little control over her own existence right now.

And Blair was used to being in control. This was a new feeling for her, being helpless. Normally she had her parents or Ms. Cole or her friends to fall back to when stuff went badly. She was totally alone, now, though; everyone here could be either one of her enemies, or someone she used to trust but couldn't rely on anymore.

Blair was scared, just like everyone else here. But she was smart, too. She'd always been smart. And she could talk her way out of situations, too; that was a skill she carried from home. What she didn't have was a way to protect herself. No weapon, no anything.

But here was Noah, a perfectly ordinary, nice-seeming guy. He was armed, and good-intentioned. She could use that, use him. Not to kill people; there was no way she'd manage to talk someone into committing murder, at least not yet. But if she hung around him, he'd be a deterrent. A sickly girl with no weapon? Easy target. But with a bodyguard...

This might actually work out okay. It wasn't like she was hurting him. She was like a pilot fish; mooching, but not in a way that negatively affected her host. Just sort of hanging around, relying on his protection. Noah, or someone else if necessary, could be the shark; protecting her by proxy.

That sounded like a plan. And with that in mind, Blair forced a smile.

"I think I'll be okay now. Thanks. Uhm..." Blair looked over at where Sandra had been. She seemed nice enough, but Blair wasn't too worried about her. "Do you...need to go talk to your friend? I'd...like to hang with you guys, if that's okay. I'm still a little freaked out, is all."

She hugged herself, looked at the entry door with a nervous expression.
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Blair nodded meekly, but inside she was quite pleased with herself. Okay, it wasn't like she was a master seductress or something, but she was at least accomplishing her goal of getting the guy with the crazy weapon to protect her. So who cared if he would have done it anyway? Whatever works, and all that shit.

Peeking into the room, Blair followed Noah to meet up with Sandra in a less pukey room. It made her a little uncomfortable that Noah was blocking the doorway. Logically, she doubted he was aiming to trap them, but her fight-or-flight instinct was definitely going haywire as a result. Then again, maybe that was a good thing?

Noah posed the question of the day. What do you do when you're trapped on an island with your survival counting on other people dying, and other people's survival counting on your death? Well she didn't want to stay on that island, for fuck's sake. But did she have a choice?

"It'd be good if we could figure out how to get the collars off." Blair said, and immediately regretted it. "Shit, but they're watching. We can't be too obvious about it or they'll just kill us." Not to mention, of all the fields of science she'd studied for fun, electrical engineering and explosives was not one that she'd covered in much detail. Fat lot of good that did for her, then.

"I..." She sighed. What was she going to spend her life doing? It'd been an easy question before; travel the world, experience new things, enjoy life while she had it. Dying early put that in perspective, at least. But dying here kind of put a damper on that.

Clearing her throat harshly, Blair looked at Sandra. "What do you think? What should we do? What can we do?"
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Even though Blair nodded slowly, but she wasn't really listening.

Yeah, sure, bottlenecking was fine. Finding a strategic location to set up in sounded fine. The southern tip of the island? Fine. It was almost funny to her. Who cared? Who cared what they did? Blair had a plan; stick to the most affable armed person, flirt if necessary, and cling to them like a life preserver. Literally, if need be.

Of course, that plan meant she relied on Noah Whitley for survival. And though it wasn't like she was going to suddenly change her mind, since, you know, it was working, it also meant she was passive. A passive game would be tough. Worse if she died; she'd literally accomplish nothing.

And then there it was. Death awaited, or whatever clichéd phrase you liked. They were all going to die, except maybe one. Jennifer's face wasn't quite solid anymore; it was morphing into one of terror or pain, in Blair's distorted vision. She saw a frightened girl dying, and that image chilled her to the bone.

It would probably haunt her for the rest of her short, frightened life.

Blair was so intent on these morbid mullings that she didn't notice Sandra's clenched fists. She just stood there, lost in thought, a pensive look on her face.
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Blair was still a bit lost in thought, but Noah moving away from the door made her look up. Oh, Sandra wanted to leave. Blair wondered why. Did she have to go to the bathroom or something? She hadn't struck Blair as wanting to run off, and unless there was somewhere to be there was a lot of risk in going solo.

Looking back at Noah, Blair paused to collect her thoughts. What had they been talking about? "Danger zones might be bad, yeah." She said slowly, like she wasn't even sure that she meant it. "If we go to the...south? Yeah, south tip, maybe it'd be harder to get away without running into people."

She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to find people I guess that's a plus. But is that what we want?" Truth be told, there were people she'd like to run into, and some people she hoped she didn't run into because they'd fight. Certain people, she thought, would definitely play along with this BS. Still, she had some friends who she'd like to see again before she got shot in the face or whatever.

Blair shuddered, then started coughing again, her throat still burning from the bile. Too soon for jokes about dying, definitely.
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Hrmm, Noah had a point, but there was stuff bothering her still.

"Yeah, I guess. But, you know, those people in the video were supposed to be friends, and that kid murdered the other one. I know they could be lying, but..." Blair bit her lip. She didn't want to believe her friends would shoot her in the back, literally at that. But if it was her or them, there was the chance they'd pick them.

Hell, wouldn't she choose herself?

It was an unpleasant thought. She didn't want to die, sure. She hated to say it, but some of her classmates probably deserved to go home more than others, and if she wasn't at the top, she was at least higher than some of them. The CF was bad, sure, but she still deserved to live, right?

...Fuck that. That was psycho talk. Nobody here deserved to be murdered. That was just deplorable. She didn't deserve to die, but she could not possibly justify murdering someone out of some kind of fucked-up superiority complex right? Right.

Blair sighed and shook her head, looking down at the ground. "You're probably right, I guess. This early most people aren't going to be wanting to kill us. We just need to avoid the ones that might, and they should be pretty obvious. I mean, we're not killers, right?" She cracked a grin.
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Blair nodded cautiously. Noah seemed confident that people wouldn't be out for blood just yet. Blair was...less optimistic. She hadn't exactly followed the streams like some people (god, what sickos they had to be), but she knew that people killed every day like clockwork. Lots of people, at that. It wasn't a huge percentage of people who killed, but it was statistically significant. It'd happen again.

Still, best to keep herself positive. Giving in to despair was hardly a good strategy. "Yeah, I guess. I don't want to kill someone either." She didn't, really, but it was hard to keep from wondering; what if she had no choice? What if something forced her? Self defense, sure, but...

What if she liked it?

A stupid thought. She had basically killed Jennifer. And she was not happy about that. The thought made her nauseous again, so she leaned against the wall.

Sandra returned, and Noah wanted a direction. "I know one thing, I'm not going back to that bridge." Blair shrugged. "Otherwise, I could care less."
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Blair nodded as the two settled on the southernmost part of the island as their destination. She followed the two out the building, feeling a little bit better than when she'd entered.

Sure the traumatic witnessing of a suicide (which she might've accidentally caused but don't think about that) was only going to get worse as more people she cared about and/or knew died. But hey, she had two people to help keep her safe while she figured things out. Things might actually turn out...well, not okay, but hopefully not a hellish nightmare of screaming and gnashing of teeth or whatever.

Wait, what did Noah just say?

Oh lord.

((Blair Moore continued in Why Y'all Gagging?))
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