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Smoke Screen; Let's settle the score (PM for entry!)
Topic Started: Nov 28 2016, 04:18 PM (500 Views)
TwelveFourtyFive
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((Mr. Prospector continued from Devil's Choir))

Things have changed in the library. There was a new body. Another one.

Steps from a boy moving in echoed.

The Chapel was an experience Al did not want to experience again. He was screamed at, depicted as a killer, threatened, outnumbered. It was scary.

Al eyed the pickaxe. Blood. The reason why the thing earlier happened. Disgusting blood. Blood from Cameron's stomach. There needed to be a cleaner way to reduce the numbers of living people.

Alessio tried to think of a way. A way where he would not need to watch the gore and blood coming from wounds. Traps.

He needed to build traps. Kill people without being there. He'd need familiar places for it. The place where he started, the library. It was big enough to build something out of it. Maybe dig something from the wall. Dig a hole into the ground that leads to a deadly fall. Something. In the cabin he might also sabotage the stairs or something. Al did not know, he needed to try.

Al searched further in the library until he found a girl, reading a book. Astrid.

So, Al decided to not scare the girl reading the book and also picked one from the shelf. That should show her that he had the same intentions as her. He leaves her alone and she leaves him alone, both can read a book. Al can think, possibily how to build a trap. How to kill people without having to personally kill them. How to keep distance from fights like the one that almost had happened in the Chapel. How to stay sane and how to not cry like a baby when putting a pickaxe into the stomach of a living human being. How to stop being a whiny boy.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Al shook his head.

"No."

Well, change the topic to be something more pleasant.

"What book are you reading?"

Al stared at Astrid's weapon. A gun. A gun always meant death. Astrid could kill him. It was like Mia's gun, but worse. Astrid had a reason to just shoot him.

"My book is A-As You Like It."

He was nervous. He stuttered a bit. He was afraid of the gun. But he should not be. He should be rational, cold. Not emotional and weak. Just like back in the scene with Mia having the gun. Get shot and you're dead. There was nothing he could do against that. He could not run. Al did not know. He really did not know. He was confused as to what to do now.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Alessio did not need to think about the decision. He dropped his pickaxe. Or rather, Cameron's. He also dropped the book he held in his other hand, just in case she wanted him to drop it, too.

Al felt dizzy. He was scared as shit and couldn't feel his fingers. It seemed like he was about to die. He felt sick.

He wanted to run away, but he knew that he couldn't. If he did, he would be shot. So he scaredly looked at Astrid to see what she plans to do next.

He prayed that she would let him live.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Penelope? How was Penelope doing? Is she alive? Has Astrid shot Penelope?

Al could see that from the way she talked about her. Astrid probably killed Penelope. Penelope probably did not give her weapon to Astrid, Penelope resisted and Astrid shot her.

Then, Astrid disappeared after taking his weapon. Al was alive. No.

Astrid told him to leave. To get out of here. Without having anything to arm himself. There were people outside who had guns or swords. And Al had nothing.

And when he leaves with Astrid having the pickaxe and the gun, he was dead. Al was dead, very dead. Just like Penelope and Cameron and Bradley and he could not imagine dying.

Astrid was standing there, behind the bookshelf. And Al had the option to just turn around, leave and die.

So Al charged at the opposite direction of where he was supposed to go. He ran to Astrid and pushed his hands against the bookshelf Astrid was behind at. That did not work quite successfully, since it just wobbled, so he threw himself against it. His weight.

That was courage. Alessio showed himself that he was not weak. He had changed, this island made him braver and stronger.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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It felt weird to use a bookshelf as an item to fall on. Al was not as dead as he was seconds before. He could hear Astrid's screams. He managed to stand up from the charge. He saw it.

Gun.

He ran for it, grabbed it, pointed it at the book pile. The gun he was threatened with earlier.

It was easy to hold, easier than he imagined a gun to be. He had never held a gun, but imagined it to be a heavy, cold weapon. But it was not heavy. That's because Al was strong. He always was, but never realised it. He underestimated his strength. But these days showed him how strong he truly was. He managed to shove a bookshelf, he managed to kill someone with just ramming a spikey point at someone else's stomach.

And the gun was not cold either, because Astrid held it seconds before. She was still here, under the shelf, probably wanting to have her weapon back. Buried. Soon dead, maybe? He did not want to check that. He did not want to see Astrid. Did not want to see her getting out and possibily striking him with his pickaxe. He just wants to get out.

He had her gun. He was safe.

And so he bolted away, far away from Astrid before she could free herself.

((Mr. Prospector continued in I Will Find You, When All the Stars Align))
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