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Woof Woof, I'm a Dog. Kill your Friends.; paging grim, otherwise open!
Topic Started: Nov 8 2016, 04:49 AM (1,963 Views)
Randomness
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More running. They’d been doing a lot of that lately.

He didn’t really want to, but Alex’s screaming made it clear that they needed to get out of there and fast.

He chased after her back down the corridor they had come from. There was no way Hazel was sick. Not when she was running like this.

Each breath was like a knife to his chest, his dry lungs wheezing, heart pumping at what felt like a thousand beats a second as he tried to keep up with her.

He had managed, for all of ten seconds, but that was all he could do, and he quickly ended up stumbling to a walk.

“H-Hold up!” he called out after her.

Please stop. Please.
Edited by Randomness, Feb 28 2017, 10:45 AM.
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Ruggahissy
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((C-c-combo breaker. But seriously, breaking posting order temporarily for narrative purposes))


Hazel thought of Min. It was involuntary. She did this quite often recently as much as the last 10 hours or so could be considered"recent." While she was with Jordan wandering the horrific remains of an insane asylum or engaging in conversation with people who were likely murders she was able to keep those thoughts arm's length.

She was concerned for him, but she was also concerned about him. He killed someone and she wavered on both sides of the scale between how responsible she was for him as a friend (lover maybe? That word was troubling and outdated, reminiscent of old movies) and her part of the responsibility for whomever he killed. Now they'd just bumped into another killer and it was difficult not see the mirror between the one they left and the one they encountered.

Hazel stopped and she felt Jordan stumble into her. She steadied herself for a moment and shook her head.

"Hey, I know this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out," she said, coming in closer, speaking in low, conspiratorial tones.

"I think we should go back. I think we have a personal responsibility here. They're obviously a few fries short of a Happy Meal, so if they kill someone, isn't that sort of on us? I don't think they're going to kill us, if they were they would have done it. I think we're too familiar for them to off, but if someone else falls into their lap, who knows? They'll trust us even more if we had the chance to bolt and actually come back."

She lowered her head a bit, looking at her shoes and pursed her lips.

"I can't go back without you. If we sleep in shifts it'll have to be paired off with one of them so they don't get any ideas." She looked up at Jordan now with a sort of steely determination.

"I'm sorry to put you on the spot."

((resume normal posting order))
things
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Grim Wolf
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[I mean I'm actually fine with doing some posting order anarchy.]

The door opened. Alex tensed, fighting the urge to turn (to whirl and slash, as he'd cut down poor Rea without thinking, as he'd desecrated her body so he could stay alive). Before he could make up his mind, Jeremy spoke.

"You okay?"

Alex said nothing for a little while. He was still fighting the tears in his eyes. He couldn't cry. Monsters didn't cry. Hannibal didn't cry. You towered. You had to. To break down was to be pitiful and human. You love Vader, and you despise Anakin. The one is a monster. The other is a whining child.

"I'm sorry," Alex said. "You were right, I should have...I..."

But a moment's humanity might not hurt. Vader and Luke, facing each other, each certain that the other will bend to their will, each tempted by the vision of the other.

"I was thinking about what you said," Alex said. "About...the people we care about. Before it's too late."

His eyes were closed, fighting against the burning of tears. He needed to hide his crying, before anyone saw it. Alexander David Tarquin could not cry, no matter how badly Alex wanted to.

He lifted a hand to cover his eyes. He lifted his face towards the ceiling, smiling a little, trying to assume the appearance of a man besieged by guilt and conflict. A proper Byronic figure. It wasn't so hard, was it? It was true. He didn't want to be a killer. He didn't want to be a monster. But Rea and Crowe's blood was already upon his sword. Those things could not be taken back.

"But they're going to die," Alex said. "And they don't...why don't they understand that?"

He dropped his hand and looked at Jeremy.

"We could die today," Alex said, and he wasn't sure if it was him speaking or if it was the character he'd decided to play. He didn't know whose words these were, or what purpose they were supposed to serve. "So why aren't they living as hard as they fucking can?"
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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Yugikun
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He wasn’t sure whether he could say he saw Alex’s reply coming or not.

Because he knew the hints. He had seen the hints. Before he had came, before he had spoken, Alex was standing here by himself. Looking down, just as Jeremy did every time he didn’t want someone else to meet his gaze. The hints were there, but he didn’t even realise that Alex was the one giving them. He was a Darwinist. A villain. A person Jeremy willingly chose to work with, yes, but out of interest. He had killed someone, and Jeremy had watched as he mutilated another. That was what he had seen. The villain was the part of Alex he knew. Not… what he was now. Not the person whose tears he could see smearing his face. Not the person talking about others. Not the person placing their importance on the others that they had once knew.

There was more of himself in Alex than Jeremy had thought.

He didn’t know whether he liked that or not.

Because, like, they were on an island, and the only way to get off was to be the last person on it still alive. He got that. You got that. There was no point in even stating this, it was the thing everyone knew. But the thing was, he didn’t ask for this. Nobody had. When he had woken up the day of the science trip he hadn’t been expecting to be taken from where he was and put on an island where he knew no matter how hard he tried or how much he fought he was never getting off alive. Did he want that to happen? No, he didn’t. Did he want to die? No; there wasn’t even any fucking point in stating that either. Everything he had cared for - his friends, his parents, BB, his piano, his violin, his normal average stagnant everyday life - was gone now, with the only thing remaining being the grim acceptance that he and everyone he cared about would die.

So you walk around for a bit, and you figure out what to do. You figure having fun is important - may as well enjoy your last days, after all - but you know that it won’t end well. You ring a bell, because it's there and you may as well, but all it does is hurt people. Get a friend injured, drive a classmate insane, show another his deathbed. You figure that you may as well get some closure, but you know that won’t happen. One of your friends got killed by Caedyn’s bitch the first day, you don’t know how long the others will last. You know that. You know that there’s no way past that. You know its going to happen sooner or later.

And then you find a dude. He’s kinda fun. Interesting personality, and willing to not eviscerate you. You talk, you chat, and you think it’s kinda fun. Little distraction for the moment, probably not something that long lasting, but then he offers you a deal. Then he gives you a chance. Top two. Guaranteed, so long as you travel with him. You take it. You act like you’re better, you hesitate about the whole thing with killing, and yet you take it. You act as if you’re having fun, travelling with this interesting character who’s friendly to you, but maybe there’s more to it. Maybe you want that hope. Maybe you want to distract yourself. Honestly, that’s probably it. Maybe you just don’t want to think, given all the horrors you now know lie within.

Alex had opened up, and Jeremy didn’t know what to think of it. They were similar. Nearly the same. They were hiding things underneath. Neither were really who they showed themselves to be.

He didn’t know whether he liked that or not.

And then he heard the footsteps - the voices, in the hallway. Talking, planning. He didn’t like that, probably meant they were coming. Another confrontation.

He looked Alex in the eyes. Alex the human, previously thought to be Alex the Monster.

He didn’t know whether he liked that or not.

But he knew that right now he needed that monster to come back.

“Because they’re weak.”

His expression stayed the same. Slight frown. Default expression.

“They know where they are. They know what’s likely going to happen to them. They know that, but they don’t realise it. They think they’re going to be the one. They hope that they’re the one. There’s probably less than a one percent chance that it’s going to be them, and yet they don’t really realise that. They probably think that they can stand around for a couple days and they’ll make it home. Happy and free.”

He didn’t know how this was going to come off to Alex. Maybe reminding him about the fact that he was going to die probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Better than nothing though, he supposed.

“But the people who actually choose to fight? The people who decide to at least try to be that one? They’re the monsters. At least, that’s what they think. They think that they’re better because they haven’t done anything yet. They think that they’re better because they think that they haven’t fallen for what the people on the speakers say. They’re wrong. They think you’re a monster. They call you a monster. They’re probably wrong. I still sorta dunno why you did what you did to Rea, but I know that what they’re saying about you isn’t true.”

He took a breath. He tended not to speak as long as he was doing now. His spit still felt frothy, but after a quick pause, he was fine. Good to go again.

“The people, on the speakers. They’ve tried to make you a bogeyman in everyone’s eyes, and they’ve succeeded. All the people who say that they’re better, they’ve fallen for what the people up there have said. They call you a monster. They think that you saw a defenseless girl and cut her up like nothing. Maybe that’s actually what happened. Likely not, given what she was like before now.”

There was a lot of truth in what he was saying. He wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“Basically? You’re their bogeyman now, and that might not end up changing for them. Worst case scenario?”

He didn’t know how to continue. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“I might be your only friend from now on.”

He stopped.

Looked away.

There was a line.

He didn’t know how far he’d gone.
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Randomness
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“What,” he said, about half as flatly as a person currently on the verge of asphyxiating on his own breathing could manage.

Hazel wasn't making sense. Of all the things in the world they could be choosing to do she wanted to go back?

That sounded like a recipe calling for two more pounds of idiocy than he could manage even in hs current state.

But he had said he'd be back. She was right. It was stupid of him to have said it but he had, and now wouldn't it be going back on his word to run off like a sensible person?

Surely they weren't the absolute worst people on the island to be with, but given the announcements thus far, that seemed like a pretty low bar.

“Even if they're not gonna kill us, I don’t exactly think that they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.”

"And anyone who knows, who isn't completely daft will know to stay away from Alex, right? Do we really need to do this?"

He stared at Hazel for a moment, trying to gauge whatever the heck she was thinking, before relenting almost instantly when he thought she noticed.

Did she have ulterior motives too? She was hiding enough from him. Sure, he didn't want her to go talking about what had happened last night out of nowhere, but it made it clear that he didn't understand Hazel much better than he did Alex.

And yet, despite everything, she was the only friend he really had left on the island. Too many of them were dead. Too many other people he only barely knew, but Hazel was neither and she was here.

He'd simply have to trust her.

“I still don’t like the idea. But if you seriously think it's a good idea...”
Edited by Randomness, Feb 28 2017, 10:45 AM.
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Ruggahissy
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"Why wouldn't they?" she retorted sharply to Jordan's comment about being welcomed back.

"Here, from their point of view this is what happened: I said I felt sick, I was pretty convincingly sick looking, we said we'd be out for air and we'd be right back, we went out for air and we came back. We didn't even start running until we were out of view so they won't know we tried to make a break for it," she said in a sort of harsh whisper.

She closed her eyes and then opened them slowly, pulling on a lock of shiny black hair.

"I don't know if it is, but I think it's the right thing to do."

Hazel stood up as high as she could on her tip toes and put a hand on Jordan's shoulder to steady herself. She positioned herself so that her mouth was close to his ear, resulting in the quietest wisp of speech she could manage.

"I know this is on me. If things go south, I'll do everything I can to make sure you can get away."

Hazel lowered herself and looked at him knowingly, raising both eyebrows.

"Let's put those extra hours in theater to good use."

She took a deep breath and walked back the way they came to the hallway leading to the electroshock therapy room.

"Hello?" she called out tentatively. "I'm feeling better." The declaration bounced back around the walls of the institution.
things
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Grim Wolf
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Alex looked at Jeremy. He listened. He almost felt like laughing. He almost felt like crying.

It had worked. How had it worked? How had he convinced anyone of his madness? How...

You cut off Crowe's finger.

Yes. The role was made, and played. Alex might doubt and fret and waver, but Alexander David Tarquin knew exactly what he was doing. He couldn't shy away, just because...

Just because they looked at him like he was a monster. Because he didn't have a single person who could look at him as a hero. As a friend.

He looked at Jeremy, who had called himself the only friend Alex had. He considered disagreeing, and then thought that was spiteful, petty, and pointless. He was shaking and wavering, trying to make sense of himself. Trying to make sense of who he was supposed to be.

Inhabit your role, Alex. The moment's forgetfulness, the moment's weakness, the confusion and hesitation: how does this fit into the narrative of Alexander David Tarquin, the man who will be the fittest?

"Weak," Alex repeated, smiling a little. "Don't you mean unfit?"

Good place to start. Return to that central conceit, the one that people will look at and discuss years from now: what does it mean to be fit, and did Alexander David Tarquin measure up to that definition? Was he better or worse than the men who had put them here?

His smile widened. He allowed himself to show through the guise he'd decided to wear, just for a moment.

"You're kind, Jeremy," he said. "I appreciate it."

And then the mask slipped back into place, and his bruised face shifted, the eyes widening, teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

"You have it exactly right," he said. "They see too little. They play pretend. The world has changed around them, and instead of accepting it or combating it they deny it. We've seen it, haven't we?" He jerked his head to the door. "Why else would Isabel torture Conrad? It's a way of pretending that she controls the game. And you saw Lily, pretending to be big. Just like Crowe. Just like Crowe." His eyes blazed. "How angry they became, when their delusions were challenged. How quickly they fell apart, when their lies were uprooted, and they faced reality."

He turned his head back to the door. "Jordan did the same, did you see? Lying, because he fears the truth. Just like them."

He gestured towards a camera in the corner of the room. His tears were gone, all trace of weakness with it. He had found the thread he needed to follow.

"Do you know what they're afraid of?" Alex asked. "They're afraid of us. They paint us with a monster's brush because if they do we might forget who put us here and insisted on distrust and betrayal as the only tools of use. Their game is not designed to find the fittest. It's designed to prove their point. Because despite their claims they fear, above all else, that someone may prove themselves the fittest. Because when that soul emerges, victorious by and beyond their rules, there will be a reckoning the likes of which they can't imagine."

He moved forwards and grasped Jeremy's shoulders. "You will not stop being my friend," he said. "If I kill you, or you kill me. All that will prove is who was stronger and who was weaker, in that final moment."

A shout from down the hall. Garbled, but Alex caught the tail-end of it. His grin softened a little, and he turned back to the door.

"And there are still souls of courage in the world," he said.

He opened the door, grinning still, the picture of grandiose confidence.

"I'm glad to hear it!" he called. "And what of our Mr. Green? Does he intend to continue this charade?"
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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Yugikun
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maybe if you're lucky the random avatar will sync up to the character you're reading right now
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He did it.

He said it.

Every line that you could possibly think of in this situation had been crossed. Jeremy was now willingly working with the bad guys and was probably now actively undermining his own goals. He had been looking for his friends. He had given himself goals to fulfill. He gave company to a murderer, yeah, but it wasn’t like he was assisting him that much. He stood back - freaked out - as Michael’s finger got cut off. That couldn’t be called helping. That couldn’t be called assisting. He was the moral center of this operation. He was trying to stop Alex from just wantonly killing people. He was trying to not advocate the murders, but nope. Fuck that. Guess he was one of the bad guys now. May as well take the gun and blow everyone’s brains out where they stood, because no. He didn’t want to do that. That wasn’t who he wanted to be.

But he did it.

And he said it.

And all because he was too scared of some fucking footsteps and- fuck knows what he was thinking about. He did bad shit. He didn’t really want to do bad shit from here on out. End of story.

But really, he should have expected this the moment the final two deal came up. Teaming up with a villain would make him have to do evil shit, who knew?



Fuck it.

He made his bed. May as well go lay in it.

“Same difference,” was the only comment he made during Alex’s counter speech. Apparently he succeeded. Apparently he did not make Alex really want to stab him. That was good. Probably the whole only good thing to come out of the whole ideal. Alex walked forward. To the door. He stayed back.

Probably best to stand back a little while the situation was still new. Step forward if it fit him. Stay back until then. No point in talking if the person was someone who'd shoot him down.

May as well become a hypocrite, while he was at it.
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Randomness
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She hadn't planned this out. Of course she didn't. This wasn't the kind of plan that someone who planned things out would make. Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don't get in trouble. The two of them were supposed to babysit a pair of highschoolers who had killed once, and make sure they didn't do it again. He hated the idea already, and yet she was right. He couldn't leave the two of them there to go on and kill someone else.

But was he ready to die trying to stop them?

It was already a full blown miracle that some people thought he could write. Act though? He was terrible at it and he knew it. He was too self conscious, always too aware of what he was doing, what people were seeing. He could almost feel it, people staring at him when he was on stage, and every little movement felt wrong, too smooth, too jerky, too exxagerated, too subtle. He knew somewhere, that no one cared, that no one could see, that half his classmates were at least at bad as himself at least, but none of those thoughts could give him much comfort when he knew exactly what he was doing wrong and how.

And now he was supposed to act. As if there wasn't already enough pressure from backstage in a regular play, here he was a major member of the cast and his life depended on this.

He followed Hazel back to the room.

"Huh?" Alex's question caught him by surprise. He was hoping to be ignored. As usual.

He was prepared for that, but Alex's eyes turned to him instead. He looked back at Hazel, hoping that she was more prepared than him, but he knew she couldn't answer for him.

"I really don't get what you're talking about?" At least his confusion was real. He didn't need to act.
Edited by Randomness, Feb 28 2017, 04:39 AM.
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Yugikun
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((Skipping post order to avoid inactivity))

“I mean…”

Pause. That… was not what Jeremy was supposed to be doing. The order for himself was to stand still. Look pretty. Be both the brains and the beauty of this operation. That was better for everyone involved. Well, maybe not, but things were going fine as they were going now. No need to step in now. If things went up in flames again then he wasn’t going to be the one with blood on the floor. Yeah. There was good reasoning behind that plan. There was a good reason for that plan. Yeah. Yeah. It was a good plan. Best for this situation. Meant that others did the work and he wasn’t getting hurt because of whatever happened. Good plan? Yeah. Good plan. Probably the best thing Jeremy thought up to do on the island.

So why did Jeremy just open his mouth just now?

He didn’t really know. He knew that that was the dumb thing to do, but he did it anyway. So why?

Well, uh, it was probably because Jordan was being stupid. Or being ignorant. Either/or. And Jeremy didn’t like that. Well, Jeremy used to not like that. Jury was out on his feelings regarding it right now but there was a bit of that muscle memory. Days spent refining his technique. Reigning sharpshooter supreme, or whatever other title existed for that.

Short of it was, when someone was wrong? Jeremy was on the case.

He didn’t know whether he liked that, now.

“You did just try to fake sick on us in order to run away. You hurt Alex’s feelings in the process. As thus, we’re requiring you to fess up on it.”

He stopped. Nothing else really to say. Well actually, there was a slight temptation. Something weird. Something on the very top of that list.

Yeah, why not. He smiled. Tilted his head.

Closed his eyes.

“Or else.”

He giggled, slightly.

God, he was going to hell for this.
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Ruggahissy
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((Yikes, have been out of town and didn't notice it was my turn apologies. I should have posted in reduced activity but activity will return to normal now))

Hazel deftly stepped into the fray, situating herself between the two and the one. She held her hands up as if to show she had nothing and also as a "hold on" motion and smiled sympathetically. Hazel leaned her head to one side and bit the corner of her lip, looking up at the other two hopefully.

"I was the one who faked," she said, pushing both of her hands against her chest. "We didn't plan it or anything, I mean," she said tilting her head towards Jordan as if to say "Look at that face, does that look like the face of trickery?"

"I think you can kind of understand why we wanted a minute to just talk between ourselves. You were....sort of you know, on the announcements," she said trying to be delicate about the situation with her voice lilting gently. "We did talk about it and you are our friends and we wanted to come back to give you the chance to give us your side of what happened instead of just abandoning you all."

She moved forward stepping into Alex's personal space, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"We're just kids from school," she said, her liquid dark eyes rimmed by pitch black full of hope. "So what happened?"
things
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((Skipping since Grim seems to be away))

Yeah. Things were going south at about two hundred miles an hour.

It hadn't even taken twelve seconds for their entire plan to go wrong.

Jordan was never great at arguments. Sure he had opinions, but god help him if he needed to back himself up with words. Give him half an hour and a thesaurus he might be able to come up with something to say, but he had always been far more likely to stumble on his words somewhere and have his entire argument rendered useless because he wasn't thinking a single step ahead of himself anyway.

Had he already messed up with what little he had said? The words were escaping him already, he couldn't even be sure exactly what he had said.

"We were kinda- Well, it was-" His brain wasn't even forming full sentences now, fragments without subjects or objects just tumbling out.

Thank god Hazel intervened when she did.

And yet there was only found partial relief in what she said. Now there was no plan once more, just him, Hazel, and the pair who had killed, and this time there was no way to leave like they had the first time.

But she'd bailed him, and all he could do was nod at what she said, trying not to look overzealous about backing her up.

"Y-yeah. We didn't mean anything by it. S-sorry."

He already regretted saying that. He could almost guess how Alex would reply, and he knew he wouldn't like it. And yet he knew just as fervently that it would have been just as bad if he'd said nothing. They would notice, they would know that he had said nothing, and that he was trying to hide from the conversation.

So whatever he did he was fucked anyway. He wanted to be back out and be safe again. He wanted to grab her and make another run for it, however his lungs and sides and legs felt about it right now.

But he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't do it, and all on the faint hope that even if Hazel didn't have a plan, she knew what she was doing. And he couldn't risk ruining everything like that.

The best thing he could do was to simply watch, and hope that it turned out alright.
Edited by Randomness, Feb 28 2017, 04:42 AM.
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Grim Wolf
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[proposing we get a bit anarchic with the posting order to set a more chaotic, natural scene, especially since we're kinda already there.]

The players return to their stage, and the game begins anew. Let the mask settle in. Remember: it has to feel exactly like your face.

Jordan gave his stuttering, stumbling reply. Alex arched his eyebrows and glanced at Jeremy, as if to say, Do you believe this guy?. Jeremy responded in his own face, and Alex's look of disbelief turned to quiet amusement, as he pursed his lips as though to keep himself from smiling.

"I meant, I wouldn't be so plebian as to phrase it that way," he said. "Hurt my feelings, but-"

But then Hazel was stepping forwards, Hazel was speaking, Hazel was-

"You were....sort of you know, on the announcements."

He was ready for it this time: the sharp chill, the reminder that everything had changed because of his carelessness, that the only path forward was the path he'd chosen, the path that could well end with these people he'd once known so very well running in fear, just as they had before. But as prepared as he was, it still took a moment to steady himself, to make sure his mask didn't falter, and by that time Hazel was in front of him with her hand on his shoulder.

He stared into her eyes. He forced himself to keep his slight amusement, because he didn't know how Alexander David Tarquin was supposed to react here. He was fumbling blind.

Jordan spoke, stumbling all over himself again. Alex chuckled, and there was nothing forced about it. He turned briefly from Hazel to study Jordan. "Which is it, Jordan?" he asked. "Did you not know? Or were you afraid?" He shook his head slightly. "Apologies, I should stop picking on you. You weren't the one playing sick. You were just backing up your friend." He looked back towards Hazel, and now his face was confident, though he still felt weak inside, like he might collapse at any moment. "All that really happened was that Hazel was a better actress than you. Which, let's be honest, we all knew."

He looked down at the machete in his opposite hand, and then lifted his eyes back to Hazel. He rested his own hand comfortably over hers.

"Doesn't that scare you?" he asked. "That we're all the same? Just kids from school? Me, Isabel, Kimiko, Nancy, just to name a few." He jerked his head back down the halls of the Asylum. "You should see what Isabel did to Conrad. It was..." He shook his head and closed his eyes. His hand tightened on Hazel's.

"It doesn't matter what happened to Rea," he said, his eyes opening, his smile fading. "At the end of the day, she died because I intend to win this game. I intend to survive, as the fittest among us. On my terms, of course. I won't play their idiotic games of betrayal. I will not become less than I am."

As though you're not already less. As though you're not the kind of monster who tells a woman she can believe in you, poor dead Sabrina, and then kills a woman because she surprised you while you were playing pretend. As though you're anything bigger or better than a scared kid acting as hard as you can, playing pretend because you don't know what the fuck else you're supposed to do.

But Jeremy believes you, doesn't he? Is there any reason Hazel and Jordan shouldn't? Is there any reason the madmen who build this lunatic game shouldn't? Is there any reason every person who ever sees this awful broadcast shouldn't?

What's your closing line, Alex? How do you end this monologue so Hazel and Jordan believe you? Because what bothered you wasn't the fear, was it? What bothered you was that fear was in no way different from how they'll look at every other killer. What bothered you was that you weren't distinct. That they were running because of the Announcements, not because of you. You don't just want their fear. You want their awe, their sympathy, their pity, their understanding. You want to be awful and awesome, all at once. So how do you get there?

His face softened. He studied Hazel as though he were looking for meaning. "Hazel," he said, and then he looked over and said, "Jordan. What does it matter how she died? I killed her, and I'm not the only one who's doing it. At this point, I'm a footnote, building a crazy Home Alone hobo maze while the real monsters eat their fill with bloodsoaked jaws."

There it is Alex, there's the throughline, bring it back to the original conversation, make that last line more.

"We knew each other, didn't we?" he said. "Cochise wasn't exactly a big school. You'll know the faces of every killer. You'll have memories. This was in them all along. In us all along. Just waiting for the crucible. Waiting to prove that they're the Fittest."
Edited by Grim Wolf, Jan 5 2017, 02:21 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."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Yugikun
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maybe if you're lucky the random avatar will sync up to the character you're reading right now
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The conversation wizzed itself around Jeremy’s head, twirling and rotating as it swung but never getting close to inside. He did know what was happening. Hazel had apologised to Alex. That was… probably cool. Maybe that would help to calm him down, stop him from going insane and attacking again. Yeah, cool. She could have done it in a way that didn’t remind Alex of the fact that he had directly killed someone, though. She could have also done it in a way that accused Jeremy of killing someone. That wasn’t as cool. He… supposed he couldn’t really blame her, though, annoying as it was to be called out like that. He was with a killer. He did sorta pretend to be evil just a couple moments ago. It was only really natural.

And it was an apology from the both of them. That was good. Wasn’t directed at him nor did he really need one but hey, felt a little good on his end as well.

What happened next was a little weird, though. Not something Jeremy got. Not something Jeremy was entirely understanding. There was an apology from the both of them and Jeremy got that part of the conversation but then Alex responded back and he was accepting the apology and then he went elsewhere? Started comparing himself to the other killers? Said he killed Nancy?

That part at the end sent a little bit of a chill up his spine. Did that happen? When? Jeremy wasn’t there for that. That wasn’t on the announcements. When did that-

Wait, no. He must have misspoke, or something like that. He meant Rea. Slip of the tongue, on his part. Nothing Jeremy had to worry about.

But was it really, though? For a second Jeremy had believed what Alex had just said. For a second Jeremy thought that during some point in the day Alex had gotten out of his sight and put his sword in the girl he had met at the bell tower. Could that have happened at some point? If Jeremy let Alex out of his sight at some point what would happen? Would he kill anyone? Would that actually happen?

...There was a list. On the clipboard. He needed to check it, quickly.

But wait, there were people here. There was a conversation happening. He needed to get out of this. He needed to speak quickly. Think of something. He was good at this. He knew that.

There was a slight pause.

“What he means is: Apology accepted. Welcome to our evil lair, or something like that.”

Okay. Good enough. He could get out of here. The clipboard was on the shelf. Take a step. Grab it. Look at the names. They were still alive, as far as he knew. Good. That was good.

But there was a name that his eyes rested upon. Clarice. Middle of the list. Most noticeable position. Acquaintance. Not a friend on the level of the others on the list but she was important enough to be there. Why was that?

Because he hadn’t gotten his closure. Because he hadn’t gotten his last goodbye with her.

Because he hadn’t been able to apologize to her, for sitting there and doing nothing as the girl he met in the bell tower stuck an axe in her before killing three others.

...Fuck, he needed to do something. Find them quickly. Get to them before it was too late. He knew that. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t ally with a player. He couldn’t do this. He turned. Picked up his bag. Took his ste-

Fuck, Hazel and Jordan were in the doorway. He couldn’t get out until they did.

He was stuck.

The clipboard with the names was in his hand, though.

He looked at them.

Maybe staying in here was a good thing. Maybe they could help.

“Although, uh… If you could help me with this thing that would be great. Have any of you two seen anyone out of the following?”

There was a pause. There was a list, that he was looking at.

“Emma Luz. Serena Waters. Ale- Alessio Rigano. Clarice Halwood. Jos- Jasmine Reed. Cadeyn Miller.”

Another pause. He looked at the list. Top. Middle. Bottom.

All important.

“Or anyone else important, I guess. If you’ve seen any of them that’d be a fantastic help for me.”
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Ruggahissy
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i'm not upset
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Alex looked into her eyes with a slight smile, but his gaze were cold. The touch of mirth didn't reach all the way up. He turned to pick on Jordan a little and before she could defend him and repeat that the blame should lie with her alone, he touched on it and complimented her acting as well.

It was not remotely the appropriate time or place to take on the compliment, but despite everything else happened, it flattered her. Hazel blushed just slightly at the recognition of her skill, something she once hoped she could be good enough at to do professionally. He looked down at his machete and she followed his eye line. By the time she looked back up again she found Alex staring at her.

He growled his disagreement with her ideology that being the same was a bad thing, asking her if she'd seen the mutilated corpse of one of their classmates and tightening his hold on her hand. Hazel let out a sharp, but barely audible gasp in response to the squeeze. Her heart sped up just a little, but she maintained her poise. She'd never been so close to someone who'd killed someone before.

At least, not after they'd killed someone said a nasty voice in her head. Hazel bit her lip.

His face matched his unhappy eyes gradually and he said something about intending to win and kill, but not become a puppet to the terrorists, which seemed totally contradictory. In fact, the entire thing was strange since by giving him a chance to tell his side of what happened, Hazel expected him to give some sort of justification for his actions or at least paint himself in a sympathetic light even if it was a lie. If he wanted to keep someone around he'd try to mollify people, but instead he was trying to make himself intentionally scary. Hazel wasn't sure what to make of that choice. It could be that he this was all a front, a shell to protect him from the realities of this place. It could also be that he truly was insane and bloodthirsty and some guilt was trying to warn them away. Internally she weighed both possibilities, not noticing that she had tilted her head a little to match the weighing.

He finished, her holding onto him and him onto holding her. He said something about a hobo maze and Hazel blurted "I don't know what that means," unable to stop herself.

Alex ended and Jeremy sought fit to break things up, accepting her apology and picking up a clipboard.

"Thanks."

She let go of Alex, breaking the electric current running through them. She went to Jeremy and looked at the names on the list.

"Mmm...no. I don't remember seeing any of them. We saw a different Luz though, Eliza?"
things
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