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Jenny From the Block
Topic Started: Feb 17 2017, 03:13 AM (757 Views)
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“So hey, uh… terrorist dudes?”

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from Idiot Launch))

He’d been walking slower than he normally did. He wasn’t really sure why that was the case. It wasn’t because of the situation, no. He had already had that change a couple days ago, after he had talked to Scout in the Church. It wasn’t because of his injuries, either. Those were bad, yeah (ugggghhhhh he hoped these were like, easily healable bruises or something, he really didn’t like the thought of spending the rest of his days having to feel these), but the bruises were on his chest and face. They wouldn’t have affected the way he walked. It wasn’t due to like, the place or the people, either. He was alone right now, and the island was slowly losing its “new place!” luster with every sight of it he resaw.

So he wasn’t really sure why he was going slower. All he really knew was that it was a bad thing. It left him to his thoughts. It made him have to think about what had happened previously.

And that wasn’t good.

So, the only thing he could do was distract himself. Do something, so that he didn’t have to think about anything else.

In theory, anyway.

“So, um, I think I heard at some point on the announcements that you guys don’t make deals with us, so I don’t think I’m going to get anything accomplished from this other than getting some false hope come tomorrow, but I’m sorta alone now and don’t really have a lot to do so fuck it, may as well try.”

He had stopped walking to say this. He could see the radio tower in the distance. He supposed that maybe if he kept walking for a bit he could get there in like, five minutes or so. That was probably what he should be doing right now.

But eh, he needed a break. A breather. Whatever it was called, this was it.

“So, uh, like…”

Fuck, how did he actually say this? ‘Dear terrorists overlords, please fulfill my extremely stupid request that I’m stating right here.’

“There’s this, uh… show. On TV. That I like watching. Survivor. Blame Serena for getting me into it, wherever she is or whatever she’s doing. Anyway, like, it’s… a show. That I like. Haven’t missed an episode since I’ve- uh, I started watching it.”

The camera was up above him, on top of a tree. He had looked at it, for a bit, before disengaging eye contact. He imagined that wherever they were airing it they weren’t going to switch to another camera. He couldn’t see many good angles around him.

“Although, like, then this sorta happened. Made me miss the last episode. So, like-”

He stopped. Paused.


“I dunno. I thought before I opened my mouth here I’d sound cooler or funnier or more convincing or less fucking pathetic or something but apparently that’s not the case. If you actually, like, tell me what happened or told me who got voted off that’d be great but honestly I don’t even have anything to give you guys. Just, like, feel free to bury me all you like. Tell everyone else here that I’m the literal embodiment of first world problems. You don’t even have to like, do anything in exchange for that. Just burn my image of goodwill in front of everyone, I guess.”

He turned away from the camera.

“They probably already think I’m a monster for what I did.”

Look at that idiot over there, just trying to distract himself from realising what he was the one who’d killed Junko and that trying to claim otherwise was just delaying the inevitable.

Look at that fucking asshole over there, thinking he was so grand and so almighty that he could get the rulers of this place to bow down to his will.

Look at that kid over there, depressed and scared out of his mind.

He just hoped that whoever was watching this was getting their kicks. Their laughs.

He supposed he deserved it, in a way.

He walked away, the view of the camera switching as he went out of sight.

The door opened. The person behind the two took their steps to the centre of the room.

The chisel and the CD player went down onto the table.

“Early bird gets first pick. I’m taking the baseball bat.”
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“No. Not really.”

The two had thrown questions at him. Quite a lot of them, in fact. They weren’t ones that he was hoping to have to answer the moment he walked in the room but honestly he didn’t know what he was expecting. ‘Hey, the dude who travelled with us finally came back, let’s give him cursory greetings and then resume what we were doing previously.’ ‘Hey, the dude who we haven’t seen in a day came back covered in bruises, let’s not question at all why he got those.’ ‘Hey Jeremy, you abandoned us. Fuck you, you fucking shitbird.’ He supposed something like that, if anything. Honestly he was just sorta surprised they were here. He sorta just abandoned them. The best case scenario that he imagined was that he’d come here, find the place empty, and just chill for the night.

But they were here. He supposed that was good.

Now he was going to have to figure out how to explain what happened to them, though.

He supposed he could lie. He might be able to tell a good one. He ran into Isabel or Nancy or anyone else who was a confirmed shitty person and they beat him up real good.

But he knew that it wouldn’t last long. The terrorists would eventually say it sooner or later. Talk all on about how he totally turned a gun on his friend. He sorta had to tell the truth. Give the better impression first.

Besides, they cared about him. They came here. They asked if he was okay first and foremost.

He could at least tell the truth. Give them a little bit of that courtesy back.

He sighed.

“Long story short is that I met Junko, we talked, and then she started beating me against the ground with her baseball bat.”

He lifted the gun out of his pocket. Held two fingers on the hold.

Looked away.

“There wasn’t a lot else I could have done.”
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Well, that wasn’t really the reaction that Jeremy was hoping to get.

But really, what did he expect? It wasn’t like they were going to empathize with him. It wasn’t like they were going to tell him that it was okay. It wasn’t. What he did wasn’t okay. He should have known from the start that they weren’t going to give him any sympathy for it, so why did he assume that?

He wasn’t sure.

It would have been nice, though.

“Thanks,” he said, as Hazel handed him the water bottle. He supposed that it was supposed to be used for him to clean the bruises on his face. He honestly didn’t really know how to do that, but he appreciated the gesture. His face still hurt. Maybe it’d help? Or maybe he was supposed to drink it and rubbing it on his face would serve nothing but waste water. To be honest he wasn’t sure about this. Maybe he’d speak up. Ask Hazel what he was supposed to do with the water. Good plan? Yeah, good plan. Cleared his confusion out of the air and maybe get a little bit more out of what she was thinking.

But she was looking. At Jordan. With a look on her face that he recognised. They’d been like this before. Shifty. On edge. Back in the asylum, when they’d met with each other. When Alex had come out of the electroshock rooms.

He supposed that this was how it was going to be for him from now on. Shifty eyes. People on edge when they saw him.

Crying, when they thought nobody was watching.

His body moved. Towards the wall. His back found the sweet spot and he slid down, looking up at the ceiling.

To be honest, he was just… just sorta done with today. Maybe he’d just go to sleep now. Skip the rest of it. He’d wake up tomorrow and new things would happen and he’d go through that day and in the big picture this day would end up totally forgotten about. Good plan?



Last days.

No more big picture.


That wouldn’t work then.


Now what?

The voice of Hazel brought him back out of his thoughts. She had said something. Found something, apparently.



He smiled. Little bit more toothy than he would have liked, but whatever.

“So what, we play the CD and see what’s on it? That’s a plan, I guess.”
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Jeremy watched as Jordan put the CD into the player. He didn’t really have a lot to think in regards to that. It was a basic action. Nothing really odd to say about it, at this point. The music that came out of it was, however. It was… probably something he’d heard of before. Not something he actually heard, but he’d imagine having heard or seen someone joke about it. Jenny from the Block. It was… okay. Not bad, but considering this was probably going to be the last song he’d ever listen to in his life he was sorta hoping that it’d be something he liked more. Anything from the Killers, for an example. Maybe one of the sentimental ABBA songs. Not that this wasn’t okay, of course, but give him another option? He’d probably take that one.

And then Hazel suddenly appeared in front of him, pulling him up onto his feet and forcing him into the center of the room.

His first thought was: wow, how strong was she to be able to do that?

His second thought was: ...what was she doing?

She was… dancing? Pulling him? Laughing? Honestly, he wasn’t sure. She was going with the music. She was pulling his hands along to it. This was… dancing, yeah. But… okay, uh…

He was confused.

Slightly aroused, as well.

She wanted to dance with him, but, uh...

There was a bit of an issue.

He, uh…

Wasn’t good at dancing? He was sorta like a lumberjack whenever the disco ball went down. He just sorta felt awkward doing it and he couldn’t do it and he’d rather step down, but, like…

There was a girl, on the dancefloor.

Standing in front of him.

Holding his hand.

Trying so hard to get him to dance.

They were different from each other. Skin. Hair. Hair colour. Personality, you name it, but they were both friends. They were both trying to do the same thing.

He couldn’t just say no.

He smiled.


So he pulled her hand back. Forward. Along with the beat.

He was pretty sure this was how it was done.

They’d danced, for a bit, after that. Soon, though, the sleep began to come, and the three of them were too exhausted to do much more. They’d set up their beds, they’d set up watch, and they went to sleep.

They’d woken up around the early morning. Didn’t do much other than that. They’d made small talk, ate a little, and asked about each others lives. Jeremy had participated in that, a little. He wasn’t that good at asking questions to the other two but when they’d asked him some he was happy to answer. He was okay with participating in other discussions, too. He didn’t know much about Les Mis but he’d been in the stage band for a couple school musicals, he was able to tell the story from his side, there. It was sorta fun. Distracting. Apparently, as it turned out, the three had similarities to each other that weren’t being trapped in here. Who knew?

The fun had to end, though. The crackling of the speakers put a stop to it. Jeremy was sitting when he’d heard them, and the news prompted him to lay down, for a bit. On his back. Looking at the ceiling.

The first couple weren’t that bad, really. Al had killed again, but the surprise was nothing like last time. Just told him that he had to find Al. Before it was too late. Really, the most scary part of the announcements was waiting for the one death he already knew was up there. What would they say about it? Jeremy imagined that it wouldn’t be something that really surprised him but he knew it’d probably hit others. Emma. Serena. Maybe Hazel and Jordan. He knew things would be different from now on. Harder. All he needed to know was how much more difficult it was going to be for him.

Maria Cucinotta. Astrid Tate. Travis Lynch. Arthur Bernstein.

Junko Kurosawa.

Attacked Jeremy Frasier for ‘giving up.’

“Wait, what?”

That… was not what he was expecting to hear. They’d just told it how it was. Said out loud that it was self-defense. Jeremy didn’t just walk up and shoot her. Not according to them. It was self defence. She hit him first.

And everyone knew that now.

So what did this mean for Jeremy, if the terrorists suddenly decided to make him innocent?

What did this mean about everyone else?

He wasn’t sure.

He’d have to think about this later. The announcements were still running. There were still a couple names to go.

Scout had killed. That was… a name that probably wasn’t a surprise to hear but it was still something that piqued him up. She’d killed Alvaro. He took out Irene. He took out Barry, back at the bell tower. He supposed that Scout knew one of those names, or something. He didn’t know. He’d have to ask her, if they met again.

The next name made him smile, though. Nancy was finally fucking gone. Taken out by Kimiko Kao. Jenny had been avenged. Clarice too, sorta. He’d have to meet up with the latter, of course, say sorry, but that piqued him right up, as terrible as that was to say. Nancy was gone. There wasn’t anyone else he could have been more glad to hear up there.


That was when he had heard Lily’s name. He’d met her, back when he was with Alex. She’d mocked him, for thinking of teaming up with him. She was up there in the same sentence as Isabel. Nothing more to say than that.

Speaking of Alex, he’d gotten another one as well. Michael. Jeremy… didn’t know what to think about that. He’d have to store it for later, just like with what they said about him.

And somehow, even after all the names had been said, the people up top still had a surprise in store for him.

”and today's winner as voted by the cafeteria is Jeremy Frasier.”

Five in a row.

Somebody buy him a lottery ticket.

He sat back up again. Talked with the other two. He asked if he should go get it. They said okay. They agreed to meet at the west side of the bridge.

He stood up, left.

Nothing really odd to say about it.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued in The Martyr Approach))
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