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It's a Snap
Topic Started: Jan 14 2017, 05:50 PM (900 Views)
Namira
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Null sheen.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Toby continued from Ain't Nobody Got Time For This))

More time, more death, and still no Travis.

Toby had managed to eat. Hurray for Toby—she was now functioning on almost a good a level as she would have been back home. Twice in one day, even.

What she hadn't succeeded in was actually doing anything. No people, no supplies and no ideas. She may as well have sat in the bell tower sucking her thumb for as much good as it would have done her. Same amount of accomplishments. Nothing. Nothing. Fucking. Nothing.

The company wasn't helping. In fact, the company was on the verge of getting its throat ripped out.

The cove was barren and empty.

"Why is nobody ever fucking anywhere!?" Toby flung her bag off her shoulder in frustration. She was about to lose her shit. Tired, haggard—she was trying, she was doing her damn best and that was supposed to be good enough. Not this limbo, not sitting around and hearing more and more names added to the dead each morning.
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"Well, I mean, a few things," Jerry felt eager to point out.

((Jerry Fury continued from Ain't nobody got time for this))

"One, maybe it's a good thing we aren't running into random people. Two, we got plenty of supplies to keep us, at least for a little while, so no big loss there." Jerry had held up too fingers, looking aside at Toby. "Aaaaand three, we didn't hear Trav's name on the announcements so that's something, right? Just a bunch more names of people we all liked and went to school with, no biggie there."

Lying convincingly about such things probably wasn't Jerry's forte, but what was right up his alley was knowing the names of just about every single person he went to school with. Cochise wasn't a big school at all. Shit, the whole thing had... what, maybe 600, 700 kids in it? The senior class alone was probably somewhere in the ballpark of 200 to 250 (Jerry hadn't bothered to do a count) and while that sounded overwhelming, when you knew half of the people there for pretty much your entire life, knowing the kids in your class just wasn't that much of a challenge.

So, sure. He recognized just about every dead kid. Every killer. But as of right now, he had no problems letting that shit slide off him like water off a duck's back... feathers. Probably wouldn't work as well without the feathers.

"So you just tell me what you're hoping to achieve here by swearing at some water, 'kay?"
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Hands on her knees, Toby proceeded to straighten up and fix Jerry with a baleful glare. Oh good, they had food. Oh good, Travis hadn't either killed anyone or be killed. Those were just peachy. Sure they were better than the alternative, but the rest was hardly something to be flippant about. Call it gallows humour or just Jerry being an insensitive dick—frankly she'd ceased caring. It wasn't funny. Jerry wasn't funny.

"Okay, how about I just get my magic fucking carpet and fly us all home? I didn't realise I wasn't allowed to get pissed off!" there was a second where, glancing back to her bag, she was tempted to pick it up and just move on. Then she remembered that it was Jerry who had followed her in the first place in spite of her moving quickly, who was still here, still smarming at her, and her irritation got a second wind. "Do you not get it, Jerry? Do you seriously not fucking get it? How the fuck are you making light of people being dead?"

Back home, people were depending on her. It'd been two, three months of crunching the numbers, busting her ass with the budget to even be able to go on this trip in the first place, to make sure her family would be okay whilst she was... away.

She kicked her bag, picturing Jerry's head.
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(Matt Moradi continued from Ain't nobody got time for that.))

Okay, so the general area had about as many living people as a morgue. That was fine. While he wasn't particularly threatened by Jerry or Toby, he couldn't really say that he fully trusted them. Maybe he could find Ben or Nate again - they weren't dead. They weren't dead. When their names hadn't turned up in the announcement, he felt more relieved than he had in his whole life. Two people who he knew, one hundred percent, wouldn't try to kill him. Two people who he could trust on this fucking shit island. But two people out of what, a hundred?

It wasn't exactly a positive thought, but he was outnumbered. Outnumbered, outgunned. What was this, if not a competition? One with stakes higher than he was used to, but a competition nonetheless. All he had to do was keep his head down until the right time, and.. do something. Kill someone, just get it over with so that if - no, not if, when, he thought - when he wins, he gets to go home. It was a bullshit rule, but it was a rule he had to play by. He didn't feel much when he heard that Henry Spencer had been killed, except a tiny bit of satisfaction. Proof of a just world, maybe? He thought that maybe he could do it to Henry. He wouldn't feel that guilty, then, but Henry was out.

Oh, good - an argument. One he didn't really have much to add to, to be frank. The tension between Toby and Jerry had been.. a little bit more than palpable. Jerry was making jokes about their dead classmates and Toby wasn't taking it so well. Matt didn't care - Jerry's shitty sense of humor was his own problem - but all this standing around made him feel nervous. Standing around, talking real loud.. someone might hear and come kill them all. That'd be real great, he could picture that. They're all standing around yelling and some psychopath with a machine gun pops out from behind a rock to mow them all down. Maybe he could get them to stop.

"Calm down, okay? We're not gonna get anything accomplished by standing around kicking our fuckin' bags. Trav's still alive, so, uh, maybe he's hiding. I mean, he's probably alone. Fuck, I'd hide if I was alone." Matt was desperately trying to change the subject from Jerry's sense of humor to finding Travis and it was clear as day.
Edited by Privyet, Jan 16 2017, 06:28 AM.
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Hey man, don't tell me to calm the fuck down, alright!?" Jerry snapped. "Jesus, you ever tell somebody to calm down? It never works! It's like those words are explicitly meant to do the exact OPPOSITE of what they mean!"

He wildly gestured to Toby and looked at her for a moment. Nah, fuck her. He looked back to Matt, but his hand was still extended her way. "Fuck it, Noodz is right. How dare I joke? It's not like I use humor as some sort of coping mechanism to cover up that we're playing Mad Max in Thunderdome meets the Deadliest Game. The only other person who understood that sort of thing was Bradley."

That's right. Jerry remembered possibly hearing his name before.

"And that dude's probably dead too. Fuck, I can't remember if he was a killer or a kill-...ee. All I was sayin' was we hadn't heard Trav's name at all, so maybe we focus on the positive and not be little bitches!" Jerry grumbled and thrust his backpack off, ripping at the zipper. He was hungry. He wanted some fucking bread.
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He called her 'Noods' again.

He said she was being a bitch.

Yeah, fuck the peacemaking and fuck Jerry. Fuck his coping mechanisms and fuck this.

Toby straightened, and then twisted around.

One step forward.

"Say that again. Go on. Go ahead. Go. Ahead."
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"Say what again?" Jerry asked, pulling out a loaf of bread. Realizing what he just said, he repeated the question as more of a statement in the style of Samuel L. Jackson. "Ha! Say WHAT again!?"

Noodle didn't seem impressed. Jerry didn't give a fuck.

"Do you look like a bitch? That what you want me to say again? That we're all acting like little bitches that need to pull our heads out of our asses?"
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Matt could tell that things weren't going to calm down anytime soon. Jerry, in his eternal wisdom, had decided to start doing his Samuel L. Jackson impression. Stellar, if not extremely loud. He had to put an end to this, fast.

"Okay, fuck, uh, let's all just think positive. Okay? My friends aren't dead, your friends aren't dead, we all got a whole to be happy for, okay? Things are gonna be fine if we all just stop yelling."

He started pacing around, looking every which way for someone. Someone who was no doubt coming to kill them all because of how fucking loud they're being.

"Just stop yelling, alright? Someone's gonna fucking hear us all yelling and they're gonna come and fucking kill us."
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Namira
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He just kept talking. Not even just talking, but continuing to make idiotic jokes about idiotic shit—cause hey, this was the greatest time to make movie references, wasn't it?

"Shut up, Matt," as much attention as he was going to get right now.

A logical Toby might have said she was stressed out—like normal. She might have explained that she was worried sick about her younger sibilngs and her parents back home. She may have begrudgingly apologised, attempted to refocus, return to their goals.

She wasn't.

Jerry was taller than her, just barely. It didn't stop her from lunging forward and grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt.

"I am this close to ruining your fucking day, all right? Shut the fuck up before I make you."
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Oh. Oh, so they were doing THIS, now.

Cradling the loaf of bread protectively in the crook of his armpit and praying he didn't squish it, Jerry leaned in. It was like those old vignettes with Triple H and any other schmuck who decided to stand in the same ring as him, where they'd get all nose to nose and Jerry would shout 'now kiss!' at the television screen. That's what they were doing right now, with Noodle grabbing at his shirt and yanking on it. Man, he liked this shirt.

"What does Marcellus Wallace look like Noodz, huh?" Jerry asked, hushing his voice.

"What's he look like?"
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Alright, things were definitely starting to get out of hand. Jerry was definitely going to get his shit slapped - honestly, Matt could almost admire Jerry's resolve in not taking things seriously. One moment he's making jokes about dead kids, the next he's saying Pulp Fiction references right in Toby's face. Impending death aside, Matt really felt... just fine. This was actually kind of entertaining to watch. He might've started laughing if he weren't on this shitty island. This was just absurd. Jerry was absurd.

Matt slowly started backing away from Jerry and Toby. "Okay, uh.. you guys just, settle this among yourselves, I guess." He had fully accepted that absolutely nothing he could do was going to stop Toby from headbutting Jerry or kneeing him in the balls, or something like that. He was just hoping it'd be entertaining.
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Toby didn't shout, she didn't yell.

She didn't even really change expression.

She just pulled back a fist and swung it straight at Jerry's face.
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With such a telegraphed backswing, any trained fighter could easily dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge out of the way or at least raise an arm to block or counterattack. Child's play, really.

For whatever reason, Jerry didn't exactly see it coming fast enough. By the time his reflexes could register that danger was incoming, it was pretty much set in stone that he was getting hit. He instinctively set his jaw and turned his head back in order to try and lessen the impact. If it did at all, then it lessened it from 'get a tooth knocked out' to 'man that still stings, yo', causing the boy to reel back a step with eyes squeezed shut.

"Augh! AAAAAUGH! Fuck!" Jerry swore almost equally as reflexively as he had snapped away. His jaw stung, but his pride stung worse. Noodle, fucking tiny little Noodz the goddamn MMA MASCOT had just punched him in the face. He had half a mind to throw down, show Noodle that he wasn't kidding around by flipping her over his shoulder, maybe grab her by the face and make her kiss the ground. Shit, he knew he could do it, too.

But he had to be smart. This was about endurance, right? Others could joke all they wanted about his ability but not only did he know that he was the best at... shit, he was the best at everything, but nobody could deny that Jerry motherfuckin' Fury, battery-powered Energizer Bunny of Cochise, could last for goddamn fucking ever.

Unless he got knocked out by a LUCKY FUCKING KICK (TRAV!), he wasn't falling right now. Still cradling his loaf of bread like his life depended on it - according to the rumblies in his tumblie, it totally did - Jerry dipped his hand into his pocket and dropped his stance.

"Try that again, you fucking bitch!" he growled in a wayward attempt to sound cool. But that time, even he had to admit maybe it was a bit much.
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Matt had given up entirely. Things had gone from "might be getting out of hand" to "out of hand. you fool. you dog. you have failed to prevent the event you wished to prevent." The question is, does he just.. leave, or watch things play out? He figured that maybe he should stick around to see who won. Jerry, probably, if he had to be honest. Standing back, Matt was left wishing that he had some popcorn. Popcorn and a lawn chair, really.
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Namira
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There was definite satisfaction in landing a solid punch. Jerry tried to ride it, but he didn't move enough. She didn't smile—tight, razor focused. It had gone from Jerry being annoying as fuck to being a fight.

Toby could do fights.

And that, quite likely, was why she didn't calm, or deescalate, or take things less seriously. Because this wasn't an argument anymore.

Jerry was still talking, saying something, but she didn't listen and didn't care.

She'd already rolled into a combination, leg kick, jab cross straight cross.

Shut up, Jerry.
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