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Act II, Scene I; open, day 4 5 pm
Topic Started: Jan 22 2017, 02:56 PM (461 Views)
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(Hannah Kendrickstone continued from Bread Suit)

Hannah had been trying to make a full circle around the island. That would be the best way to find Irene and Olivia. They could be anywhere, so she had to look everywhere. It hadn't worked. She hadn't seen anyone since she'd met Junko the day before. The announcements hadn't mentioned Tara dying, so as she had walked across the slopes, she'd had to wonder if Junko had been lying. She hadn't said how much she'd burned herself, but Hannah was still worried by it all.

Not that traveling across the dangerous slopes that separated the northeast part of the island from the southern part she was trying to go to had been smart. She'd rolled her ankle and fallen down a slope slick from the mud and the rain. She'd hit her head on a sharp rock, and the gash had just been bled and bled. She'd just lied there for a moment, crying, before she screamed and screamed at frustration and pain at the whole situation. She wasn't sure how long it had been before the screaming had changed to whimpering and she'd eventually tried to help herself. Luckily if anyone had heard they hadn't decided to find her and kill her.

She'd taken some painkillers, but her ankle even now still throbbed and her throat was still hoarse from when she'd screamed for awhile in pain and frustration. She'd bandaged the gash on her forehead, but she didn't think it helped much. She was worried that the rain would damage it and then she'd have to patch herself up again. The now slightly reddened brim of the baseball cap helped keep it dry a little, but occasionally the wind would shift and she'd be getting rain on it again.

She was almost to the building. It had taken her forever. Hannah even on the best of days wasn't in the best shape to hike across a deserted island, her injured ankle, the lack of sleep, and the fact that she was barely eating hardly helped things. When she'd tried to eat some of the bread, it had felt like glue in her mouth, and it'd taken a minute of chewing before she could get herself to swallow any of it.

She hated it all. She hated the terrorists who dropped her here with her classmates. She hated herself a little for being such a failure at finding her friends. Secretly, she was starting to hate Irene a little bit for running off, but she always tried to distract herself when that thought came up. Irene had probably just been scared. They'd all been scared by the body.

She reached the building. It looked solid, but what really interested here was the helicopter on top. For whatever reason seeing it reminded her of the police helicopter in the Baz Luhrmann adaptation of Romeo + Juliet. The modernization of the setting had been a twist, but she'd checked, and despite that it had done an amazing job of matching the dialogue and stage directions of the original play. She wouldn't want to see all of The Bard's plays adapted that way, like the attempt to do the same thing with Hamlet, but that time it worked.

She ignored the nearby corpse as she went inside to find the stairs up. The body was obviously male, so it couldn't be anyone she was looking for. It also had way too much gore, like a bad horror movie.

The pain in her ankle increased as she took the stairs up. The effort of lifting it up rather than just walking on the relatively flat land near the storehouse was more painful. She briefly considered not climbing, but she had to see that helicopter. Maybe she could tell if there were any groups nearby that looked friendly. She probably needed some help.

Her breathing got heavier as she reached the top, and she let out a cry of pain, and hot tears went down her face until they reached the scarf that was still wrapped around her lower face.

She took slow weak steps out onto the helipad.

She saw what looked like burned wood. And a body. It looked burned and unrecognizable. Burned.

"Tara?" she asked, momentarily forgetting that corpses didn't usually talk.
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((Noah Whitley continued from The List of Adrian Messenger))

"Why would gay men prefer to have a shaved cat as a pet compared to other cats? Because they hate hairy pussies."

Noah scoffed to himself.

"No, no. That doesn't make sense. That's not even a stereotype of cat owners. Come on, you can come up with better."

Noah continued to walk towards the helipad. It had been a long, awful day. He got the shower he wanted thanks to Mother Nature, but he hadn't found anyone he wanted to find. He had checked out the dorms, and aside from finding what was clearly a body under a sheet (he didn't bother to look under it. He knew it had to be a stiff), he didn't see any of the girls. He decided to return to the shoreline and walk along it in case any of them decided to return to the area. Still nothing. He just continued along the shoreline until he reached the Supply Depot. It was an area he hadn't been before, but he figured someone could be there. After all, they had two days to move around the island. They could have stumbled across the area.

He decided to go to the helipad. The elevation would probably give him a better view of the area. He had also spent the day trying to tell jokes to himself to keep his spirits up. Aside from telling himself jokes he had heard from various movies and TV shows, he tried to come up with a few. He figured doing so would keep his mind active and keep him slightly grounded.

"Okay," he said, seeing the steps leading up the helipad nearby. "What is the difference between a velociraptor and Barney the Dinosaur? One-"

Noah froze when he noticed there was a dead body near the steps. The corpse was a complete mess of some guy Noah wasn't sure he could recognize. There wasn't a sheet over this one, so Noah had to take the sight in. The shattered legs, the stab wounds, and all that blood. Noah shook his head, then bolted up the stairs.

"Look for five minutes, then get the fuck out of here," he told himself.

Noah continued to make his way up the stairs, Sawlaska bumping into the rails. He really, really, really, really, really hoped the killer wasn't on top of the helipad. The ideal visual at the top of the helipad was one of complete emptiness and no threats present.

Of course, this wasn't an island of ideal visuals. So instead, Noah arrived at the top and noticed a girl looking at a charred pile nearby.

"Oh, fuck me," Noah muttered to himself.
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The body didn't respond. Hannah didn't expect it to. She still couldn't tell if it was Tara's. She thought it could be her size, but she just didn't know. Junko had said Tara was burning herself, but the morning announcement hadn't said that Tara was dead. Although those terrorists could have lied. Yes, that made a ton of sense, if they lied about things, then they could create more conflict. It's what the most dangerous villains would do, especially since in the world Hannah knew, that being the work of Shakespeare, so much conflict and violence was created through not having enough information.

Hannah spun around quickly when she heard the quiet voice behind her. She couldn't help but let out a squeak of pain. Her rolled ankle hadn't appreciated her climbing the stairs up at all. Her arm flailed the board in the air in front of her as she spun around. How could she not have heard someone sneak up on her?

She recognized the boy now in front of her, Noah Whitley. He'd done some crew work for theater before, she thought. That didn't really matter to her right now, because she was on murder island, and hadn't expected him to sneak up on her.

"Jesus Noah, you," her words got faster. "Why'd you have to freakin' sneak?"
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"Oh! Hannah! Hey, sorry!" Noah said, raising his arms up a bit, keeping Sawlaska pointed to the side.

Hannah Kendrickstone was someone Noah remembered from the school theater. She was an actor, while he stuck to hair and makeup. Now they were just a boy and girl freaking out on some island somewhere. It looked like Hannah didn't have as much luck as him in the weapons draw, waving a plank of wood around.

"Yeah, I was just coming up here to get a view of the area. But um..."

Noah looked past Hannah at the char pile on the helipad. There was some shape there that didn't look quite right to him.

"...I'm guessing there's something more unpleasant to look at right here."
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"Um yeah," she responded lamely.

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind couldn't get off the question, was it Tara? Then it hit her. It probably was. Sure, it was possible that multiple bodies on the island had been burned, but it was probably pretty unlikely.

"Does," she sniffed, trying to hold back crying about another dead classmate.

"Does that look like Tara?"

She gestured with the board.

Then she felt the tears start, but she tried to pretend it was just more rain on her face.

Hannah wasn't sure which answer she'd want Noah to give.
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"Tara?" Noah asked.

Tara Behzad was someone Noah knew from theater back at Kingman. They weren't close, but were both into doing makeup for actors. However, if Hannah was suggesting that the thing there was once Tara, then Noah was prepared to faint.

"Uh...why would that be Tara?" he asked.

Noah stepped a bit closer, trying to focus on the object in the distance. He could start to make out a vague human shape on the pile. His jaw started to quiver as he tried to keep talking.

"I mean...was she..."

Noah wanted to keep talking, but he suddenly felt lightheaded. The words weren't coming out, and now Noah was sure he was going to faint.

So he did.
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"Oh Je-fuck!"

Noah had fainted. She hadn't been expecting that. From his comment of something unpleasant being around, she'd assumed he'd seen the body already. That was sure stupid of her.

The board was quickly dropped, and she kneeled down next to Noah. Was he breathing? She thought he was. Had he hit his head? She wasn't even sure what she would do if he had. She was good at a lot of things, but first aid wasn't one of them. She breathed in and out quickly. She wasn't prepared for this.

She pulled her backpack off and pulled a bottle of water out. Noah would probably need some. That much she was confident of. Everyone needed water. Hannah tended to drink a lot of it during rehearsals because there was so much talking.
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Noah's eyes started to flutter as he returned to consciousness. As he lay down on the floor of the helipad, staring up at the gray skies above, he squinted as the rain continued to fall. He let out a moan and closed his eyes. His head was killing him. He thought it was because he fell to the ground, but it occurred to him that the various distractions of the island- particularly the two corpses in the vicinity- had distracted him from the throbbing pain in his forehead.

Noah rubbed his eyes, trying to get the rain water out of them. If it hadn't been raining before he fainted, he could assume this was when he woke up from a dream. SOTF wasn't real; he was having some crazy dream brought on by something that happened at the science museum. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. It was still happening, and he needed to get up. If he tried to talk while laying upside down, he'd probably drown like a turkey. He was sure he'd been called a Turkey before, but not a literal one.

Noah propped himself up and sat up. Hannah was kneeling beside him with a bottle of water.

"Don't worry," he told her. "Waking up after passing out outside is a typical Saturday night for me."

Noah started to chuckle, but paused to let out a sneeze. He sneezed into his elbow and sniffled. That wasn't a good sign.
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Noah seemed okay! That was an incredibly huge relief. She would have simply felt awful had he been actually hurt. It was probably her fault though. She had mentioned Tara, and, and the body was just awful. Maybe she didn't want someone to tell her if she was right or wrong about it.

She smiled at Noah's joke. It was probably really embarrassing to faint like that. Hannah would be anyway. Or she thought she would. It was possible that she wouldn't care as much now. There were so many bigger issues to be worried about, like where her friends were, and if some evil wretch was going to try and kill her.

She awkwardly changed from kneeling to sitting. They could just sit for a moment, so Noah to recover. Plus she could stay off her ankle for a moment. It almost felt normal now that it didn't have any weight on it.

"Hey umm, I'm really sorry."

She hadn't meant for him to faint. Not at all. Plus she wasn't sure what else to say. It's not like she could mention the body again after that.
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"Hey, don't worry about it," Noah said to Hannah. "I've seen worse things in my life. Glitter, for example."

Noah chuckled, but then let out a cough into his shoulder. Crap. This wasn't good. All that running around in the rain with minimal protection and a bullet wound in his leg was starting to turn against him. He looked around the area. The only shelter was the helicopter by the edge, which looked half-ready to fall off. There weren't many other options, so Noah turned to Hannah.

"Uh, yeah, I think I'm gonna go get some shelter before things get worse for me out here."

Noah sniffled and stood up. He began to walk over to the helicopter, using his free hand to shield himself from looking at what remained of Tara. As long as he positioned himself in the right side of the helicopter, he would probably not go plummeting over the edge.

Heh. What's more likely to kill me right now? A helicopter crash, or a fever? Let's find out.
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Hannah smiled at the next joke. Glitter was pretty awful. She never wore anything glittery because it was so awful. It just got everywhere and if it got on you or a piece of your clothing, forget it, that was never coming out. And then she'd be constantly distracted by it if it did get on her clothes. Awful awful awful.

She slowly got to her feet with a deep exhale from the pain in her ankle, her smile vanishing. She was initially going to follow Noah to the helicopter, but sheesh, it looked like it was about to dive off the edge.

"Noah wait," she started.

She wasn't sure how to finish. How did one say "hey I'd like you not to fall to your death?" without sounding super emotional and oversentimental.

"It looks super shaky."

Well, apparently that was how.
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Noah looked over the helicopter. It was close to falling off, like Hannah said. Noah wanted some shelter, but more than that, he didn't want to go falling overboard to his death. Fortunately, the door was close to open, so he could compromise.

"Okay. I won't go all the way in. Just the tip."

Noah pushed the door open and sat on the floor of the helicopter. He was covered, although still slightly exposed to the rain. If the helicopter decided to go tumbling over the edge, he could at least quickly jump out and scurry across the helipad away from it.

Noah set Sawlaska against the side of the helicopter and pulled his bag over, searching for his first aid kit.

"I know the terrorists are assholes, but they better have gotten us some good meds," he said.

Noah let out another sneeze. His head was starting to feel cloudy, so hopefully he could get some medicine into his system before he passed out again.
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Hannah cringed a little as Noah took the risk. And nothing happened. The helicopter was more stable than that. Of course it was. If it hadn't fallen off after however long it had been sitting there. She kind of wondered what had happened to not only empty the asylum, but the other buildings as well. They had left behind all their stuff.

"The painkillers aren't that great," she said, if it really meant anything. She'd only used the ibuprofen, and maybe it would have helped her ankle more if she hadn't kept walking on it. But she had people she needed to find, so she kept moving, even if it was slowly and with plenty of breaks to rest.

She wasn't taking the risk of the helicopter though, she stood close to it, being careful not to actually lean on it. She adjusted her baseball cap to keep the rain off her face. Maybe it would be better to just get inside at some point. Noah didn't seem to be doing that great, and well, she supposed that might take priority over finding Irene and Olivia. Just maybe.

"I can take a look, if you need a minute, to like, just rest."
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"Nah, I'm good," Noah said. "I'll just take whatever pills they've got and hope for the best."

Noah pulled the first aid kit out and began to search through it. They did have aspirin and Ibuprofen like Hannah had said, but nothing in the way of antibiotics. Looks like he'd have to tough this out the old fashioned way: sleep a lot, drink a lot of water, conserve energy, and pray it gets resolved before he spends too much time.

Noah opened the Ibuprofen and popped out two pills. He placed them in his mouth, dry swallowing them.

"It's a start at least," he said to himself.

Noah then looked around the area. There was the body on the pyre, which was still giving him the heebie jeebies. He felt the helicopter shake a bit, not enough to fall, but slightly enough to make Noah think it could fall. He started putting the first aid kid away in his bag.

"So, yeah, I think I should move indoors. What about you?"
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Hannah frowned. She wasn't sure what else Noah should be doing, but just being reliant on the meager painkillers the terrorists gave them seemed like an awful idea. Was there a choice though? She didn't think so. Gosh, what did people do in these situations? Maybe lots of people just gradually got sicker and sicker until...

She looked over the burned pile.

Well until they died.

Noah said he'd want to go inside. Hannah wasn't sure about that. Sure it was raining, her legs ached even more than when she had to run the mile in P.E., her ankle was hurt, and she thought she could feel some blisters on her feet, but even so, she needed to find people.

"Well..."

She felt a muscle painfully stiffen up in her right foot.

"Ow, yeah, well, yeah, me too."
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