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Dysthemia Morte; Open
Topic Started: Feb 11 2017, 03:15 AM (470 Views)
shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
((Wade Cartwright continued from Remember Everything)).

He awoke groggily inside the large cavern with multiple aches and sores on all of his limbs, and his entire side well-caked with sand, a leg soaking wet from the high tide that had risen and ebbed during the night.

That was what Wade Cartwright got for trying to just slum it, but he could live with it. Day five. Day five. The game was almost at its halfway point. Most of them had ended around the two-week mark. Pep himself up. Only a few more days to go before he was dead meat. No, force that out of mind. Only a few days before-- living on? Salvation? Winning? Come on!

In the end, the little cadre had split up after Trav had discovered the body of his apparently-dear friend, Toby. He just pissed off in a huff to find this Jerry character and left Cass to split off from him in turn, in a heartbeat. No Ten Little Indian shit, no dramatic and tearful betrayal. Just a quick and awkward breakup. Left alone. Hanging.

And that had given Wade the cue to focus on reassessing his situation. He just looked about the map of the island and thought a little bit. These announcements gave no damn clue, not the least, as to the locations of murders, so analyzing those was out. He still didn't feel the impulse to go anywhere in particular tickling his guts, not even after all this time (five damn days already?) so he just plopped down and slummed it in an appropriately secluded spot. Notably, one that wasn't corpsefront property. (Who was she again? Andreassen? Andreasson? It was kind of sad he couldn't even call up her name for crissakes. So much for small world! It wasn't even a small school!)

The announcement instantly annihilated his train of thought and put it back on track. Voice again. Names names NAMES! Had he even been paying attention these past few days?!

Will McKinley, the boy he'd met that first morning, had killed. Faint memories. In retrospect, he did seem the reckless type, but..

Bernadette Thomas, sounded familiar. Maybe they'd known each other and had just forgotten. The name meant nothing much now-

Irene Djezari.



GodDAMNIT!

If only he hadn't acted so damn rough toward her, had spoken more softly, had just been more convincing..! DAMNIT! GOD-! FUCKING-! DAMNIT!

How much had she let on? How many things did that Alvaro bastard know now?! Of all the things!

Wade instinctively stood up, fists clenched. This wasn't any time to mess around or dick around! Alvaro was a known player! If that shit knew about the group.. about him! There could be an armed murderer after him right this second! He had to.. he had to..

Breathe in. Breathe out. It didn't do much to stem the panic, but it kept him from losing control. That's it, that's good. You need to be focused, because this is the exact. time. when shit goes wrong the most. You blow off half-cocked and you'll just be playing into your enemy's hands. You have to be chilled. Ice.

Dammit...! His mind flooded with regret, and he wracked himself for any distraction.

There it was. There were two chicks standing near the cave's mouth. People. Numbers. Safety. It'll be alright. It'll be alright.

He managed to calm down just enough to be satisfied with how he was carrying himself, and cautiously approached Blair and Rene from behind. It would be suicide to sneak up on them like this if they were well-armed, so he tried to make a respectably loud sound:

"Hey."

It felt just a little on the loud side- no, too quiet! Argh, why did he have to be so awful at judging the sound of his own voice? Breathe in, breathe out. It isn't that important. Focus on the moment. Either one of those options could be recovered from, yes, this place was increasingly.. barren (what a euphemism.) and he could always repeat himself just that little bit louder.

At least he knew the dead girl's name for sure now. That counted for some situational awareness, right?
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
Emotional forces clashed in Wade's mind. First, the horror of Trav and Irene's deaths - which he couldn't help but feel painful pangs of guilt for, even knowing the inherent danger of the island - and second, the impromptu humor with which the girls had responded to his entrance. His first sensation in response was angry revulsion: a sense they were somehow sacrileging what was meant to be a moment of sorrow and regret.

Of course, but why believe it was 'meant' to be that or any way at all? The real world wasn't preordained to follow dramatic tempo like fiction had to. Next, Wade tried to shift the mental blame for some reason. Trav and Irene became responsible for themselves the moment they left him, right? Trav probably hadn't wanted him following, and Irene would probably just have become angry if he'd tried to stop her with noises of an awful premonition, Final Destination-style. Still, it felt somewhat wrong to just foist the blame onto them. "It wasn't my fault they ran off and got themselves murdered!"

Any way he sliced it, though, it seemed right. No matter how much mental sarcasm he threw at that fact, it resisted and kept on going.

The gag was kind of funny, even. Inappropriate, perhaps, but it could help him chill. Take his mind off the fear and horror.

So he retorted by stumbling backwards and falling onto his ass, his pose exuding self-awareness. Mustering the best deadpan voice he could: "Aaaaarrgh. Your mere words hit me right in the heart. I'm dying." He slumped unceremoniously onto the sand, voice wrenched and deliberately overacted: "Curse.. you. My.. upper.. aorta.. collapsed.. just from the.. sonic.. waves!" ..turning his head and closing his eyes for good measure. He couldn't suppress a smirk of his own.
Edited by shotgunkid, Feb 26 2017, 06:15 PM.
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
For Wade, the joke had pretty much stalled out too. It had been run into the ground, nowhere else to go, the horse had been beaten to death. Trying to wring any more out of it would just be, well.

The girls -- especially Rene, who he recognized from a few cafeteria and hallway conversations -- seemed a bit over-the-top with their apologies, but he could forgive them that. Caution was a given on this island if one wanted to survive a decent period of time.

He sat up. With the wash of enthusiasm from moments earlier having left as abruptly as it came, he replied:

"I get you. It feels like-" but then hesitated. Telling his emotional state out loud, naming the undercurrent of despair and dread that flowed beneath every feeling here, would just give it more power to corrode and destroy any trace of rational thought. And that would be lethal. So he rephrased:

"-I mean, I'm pretty alone out here. I just.. separated from a group. It's psychologically reassuring to be with others. We're social creatures, you know?"

The shape of the beach and their stances called back another all-too-familiar memory, though... which he consciously tossed back out. What were the odds they'd share that esoteric interest? Having met Hannah like that was a stroke of pure luck.

At that moment, he just so happened to be glancing toward a far wall of the cavern. Just as he finished the sentence, a small figure resolved from behind its visual barrier, moving slowly across the beach toward them.
2015: V6 Incident
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shotgunkid
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don't take no guff
[ * ]
Talking and running, huh? He could do that. Especially while being shot at. Yikes.

The deafening crack-crack-crack would make it a little tricky, and it brought back so many memories on its own. But those were for later.

((Wade Cartwright continued elsewhere!))
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