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The Way the Sun Can Still Burn Down; Day 4, Mid Morning
Topic Started: Jan 20 2017, 12:36 AM (514 Views)
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"Cameron Herrig took a pickaxe to the stomach courtesy of our newest challenger to take up the game, Alessio Rigano.”
"...courtesy of our newest challenger to take up the game, Alessio Rigano.”
"...challenger to take up the game, Alessio Rigano.”
"Alessio Rigano.”

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from Woof Woof, I’m a Dog. Kill Your Friends.))

He hadn’t heard anything else.

Maybe there were other people he knew who had been mentioned. Maybe something had happened to Alex since Jeremy had left them. Maybe someone like Isabel or Kimiko or you know what maybe even fucking Nancy had killed a bunch of people yesterday and he wouldn’t have noticed. Al was up there. Al murdered somebody. Everything in his mind came back to that and he couldn’t think couldn’t focus because Al killed someone he heard so he knew so and nothing else mattered nothing else was there and it hurt and it bit and it clawed and it fucking screamed at him and it was all he could think all he could feel all there was.

There were others here. He hadn’t talked to them. He gave vague confirmations and looked away and they didn’t really press him on it. He was walking with them now. That’s what he was doing. There were people, next to him. They weren’t who he was thinking about right now.

Because there was Al.

His friend.

The guy with the Rubix cube. The oddball. The one who you could bring into your world and not feel awkward about doing it.

The newest challenger to take up the game.

And it was a trap. And it was a cycle. He had probably thought this thought a hundred times since this morning. Ripples. Stones hitting the water. Thinking about his thoughts and the sentences being completed before his thoughts caught up and the same words appearing at different times bouncing off each other clouding fuzzing making it unable to think making it annoying mak-

Voices, calling out.


Talking to him.

His mind came back. His ears made themselves attentive again. There were things she was saying. Things she felt. Things he felt. Well, maybe not quite the same, as far as he knew, but he felt her. He sorta understood. He felt sorry. She just couldn’t really take it. There were still thoughts in his head changing moving altering what was there but he understood. He could listen. He could sympathise with her.

And he could respond to her. She asked a question. She put her heart and soul into what she was saying. She tried. The least he could do was give her something.

“Not really, it’s like…”

Mr Graham getting shot. The church, with Scout, when he finally realised what had happened. Where he was.

Clarice. Getting an axe straight through her arm.

Alex. The corpse in the room.


Alessio. The newest challenger to take up the game.

Al. Killing.

Al. His friend.

“I dunno.”

He looked at her. Hazel. An ally. Someone who had just opened up to him right now. She was scared. Unsure. Ready to accept her fate. Willing to tell that to someone who was a total stranger until a day ago.

She was talking to him.

It was his duty to respond.

“It’s just…”


His friend.

The newest challenger to take up the game.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He looked away. He didn’t want to see her disappointment.
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He could hear her crying.

He could hear what he had did.



He didn’t want to be here.

So he stepped away, into the room itself. He could see the circle of chairs, in the centre. There was one on the ground, crushed to pulp. He couldn’t really guessed how that happened. He stepped forward, further in. The light from the windows illuminated the trail of blood on the floor. He couldn’t really guess how that got there at all, so he went forward. Step by step. Moving forward and just hoping there was something, someone here. A person, a thing, an event, he didn’t know. Anything to make him forget. Anything that could just distract him, for one second. Anything that could just get him off this island for one single moment. Anything that could make him forget about the game’s newest competitor. An-


Hey Jasper.

He had made it through the room, past the chairs. Far away from Jordan and Hazel, at this point. That was where he saw the corpse. Jasper’s. He was - used to be - a friend, sorta. A talkbuddy. Maybe not one of his best friends and maybe not someone he made sure to talk to every couple days but that didn’t really discount anything regarding him. They talked. They were nerds. Sometimes they were able to share war stories about Caedyn. That meant something. Maybe it didn’t mean as well as the people he had put on the list but it did nonetheless. He was Jasper. He was his friend.

And he was dead on the floor, bullets fucking everywhere on his body and being dragged out here.

That was Jasper.

And that was all he was now.

And all he’d ever be.

But there was something that clicked in his head, when he saw it.

This was Jasper.

This was what happened to him.

And this could happen to anybody. Maybe you, although that wouldn’t be too bad. But maybe it’d be Serena. Maybe it’d be Emma.

No, no. That was right. He was on borrowed time here. He had to find them, before it was too late. People were fighting out there. People were dying out there. Maybe it could have been someone like Adelaide or Brendan or someone else he didn’t really give a shit about, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was important.

And there were problems, yeah. Al had killed. Hazel was crying. But he couldn’t think about them. There was work. He had to do this. He had to find them. There was that thing - Jeremy Frasier, 0% chance of winning the game - that he had known since here. No. He had to do it now. He couldn’t distract himself. He couldn’t think of anything else other than that.

So he had to do it. There was a list, there was a goal, and there was an entire island of people out there waiting to be found.

So he had to do it.

And he would.

He knew that.

There was a note, left beside the corpse, after he had left. Maybe he had left them - well yeah, he did - and maybe they hated him for that.

But if they didn’t, well, they’d know where to find him.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued in Noland the Liar))
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