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Let the Darkness Flow Through You; Late night 5
Topic Started: Feb 27 2017, 04:53 AM (870 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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((Jerry Fury continued from Wombo Combo))

Maybe it was the crowded atmosphere of the rinky-dink warehouse compared to most of the wide-open spaces that Jerry had grown accustomed to by this point, but even with just a single body stinking up the joint the place was just a little too corpse-y for his tastes. Not very fond of the potential roommate (who was honestly just a little bit smelly), Jerry took to exploring the recesses of the warehouse looking for anything of use.

Or, he would be, except night had taken them long ago and he couldn't see shit, captain. After a panicky, shout-filled search for his flashlight, he pulled the invaluable tool out and clicked the button, immediately setting about towards the back rooms. "Fat chance of there being a bed in here but like, that's why nobody's gonna come lookin' here this time of night," Jerry asserted to Matt. Totally infallible logic. Nobody comes to a warehouse at night.

Except them, but... like... that's different, you know?

"My legs hurt. My nose hurts. My ass hurts. My everything still fucking hurts," Jerry griped. "You'd think there was some IcyHot in this place but noooo, it's gotta be all old-fashioned!" He continued to grumble, spelunking deeper into the warehouse. "But hey, they got soap, soap and more soap! Look out, classmates! I'm gonna kill you with a bar of Ivory!"
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Fuck going back there," Jerry grumbled. "Too cramped n' creepy. I feel like when I'm in that fuggin' place, there's somebody gonna jump around any corner, scream boo and shank my ass." He turned, unintentionally shining the flashlight into Matt's face before dropping the beam of light closer to his feet. "And you know we got some fucked up classmates enough to try it, huh?"

He turned his attention back to the shelves. "Booooy howdy, none of this crap's worth a damn to us," he said again, some lament in his voice. Mostly boredom, though. Even the whole 'everybody around him is dying' thing was starting to bore Jerry; seeing a dead body sure is shocking the first time, killing somebody is the same way. But now both of them just seemed like regular occurrences. 'Yep, this is a Tuesday, boy howdy I sure do enjoy killing', it seemed like.

"I tell ya, Matt... you ever wonder if you're like... on a different wavelength from everybody else?"
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MK Kilmarnock
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"Yeah like, what I mean is..." Jerry continued rummaging through the shelves. Fate happened to play a cruel joke on him in treating him to what seemed to be a box of something edible, maybe crackers or biscuits that miraculously lasted the several decades of nothingness, but it just turned out to be... more soap? Even more goddamn soap? Just where the hell were they, the soap aisle in the soap store on the soap... isle? He stopped himself kicking the bottom of the shelf in frustration, only because he got a vision of the whole shelf toppling over onto him and killing him.

Jerry could think of some shitty ways to go but if he was going to die from a shelf falling on him, then he'd just as soon wish Trav really had knocked his block off back at the beach. "What I mean is," he repeated after clicking his tongue. "Like, there's this weird disconnect when I'm trying to talk to people. So, uh, nobody can think like me, yeah? Therefore..."

Fuck, where was he going with this?

"Nobody can... think like me." Well, it sounded better in his head, but he supposed it helped to prove his point. "You know I'm not just a dumbass, right? I'm not dumb. I know I come off that way sometimes, but I can't be that dumb if I'm still alive while-" Jerry cut himself off in order to listen to the tail-end of something crashing into something else.

"... I'll just go assume and ahead you heard- ahead and assume you heard that, right?" Jerry babbled, reaching for the switchblade in his pocket. He cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"Alright, shitdick! Or shitpussy, I'unno! I'm Jerry motherfuckin' Fury, and this here's Matt Moradi, and-"

He paused. Think of a name.

"And Alessio Rigano! We're three of the baddest dudes on this island and you think you can attack us, we're gonna rip your throat out!"
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"Alessio. I said Alessio," Jerry whispered, only slightly irritated. In fairness, it's not like he knew exactly who the fuck that guy was (and with a name like that he sounded like a total dork), but he heard the name enough on the announcements that it started catching his attention. He had to say, he didn't wanna run into that guy any time soon.

Anyway, better pretend he's there already in order to freak people out.

His efforts seemed to be mostly wasted as the newcomer was none other than ol' Bart. Barty Bart Bart. Bart Simpson. Barty Crouch Jr. Bartholomew Roberts. "Baaaaaart, my man," Jerry sang, putting a smile right on that face of his. "Where the hell you been? Coulda sworn somebody killed you by now. Well, nice to see-"

Something went whizzing behind Bart's head, narrowly missing him. Bart seemed to have paid no notice to it, like it wasn't even really there. Looked like a box of... a box of soap? Was this going to be a recurring thing? Was he going to start having nightmares about soap?

"Uh... is there somebody else here?"
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'Bart wasn't a concern, Alan was.' That was the conclusion Jerry had drawn, and he assumed Matt was drawing the same one. Bart looked to be about as harmless as a freshly-kicked baby seal, Alan had a pipe. Bart was wandering around uselessly in the dark, Alan was some sort of monster who aimed to trigger soap-related nightmares. Boxes of it, flying through the darkness here, there, and everywhere. If Jerry got through this, he likely would never look at soap the same way again. He knew one aisle he wasn't stepping through at Safeway, that was for fuckin' sure.

"Help you how?" he asked Bart, trying to cross his arms. However, as one hand had firmly placed itself in his pocket to get a grip on his switchblade in case things soured up, what this really ended up looking like was Jerry senselessly tucking his other arm across his chest and burying the fingertips in his armpit. Not the kind of pose you'd see on a movie cover. "We're not like... giving you food or anything, if that's what you mean."
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Mar 13 2017, 01:26 PM.
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Jerry's lips sputtered into an impromptu laugh with his palm pressed against his temple.

"Holy shit, Matt, you're sounding like a total dickhead!" Jerry said with a full grin. "Not gonna lie, I kinda like it. 'Ain't one of y'alls try nothin', ya hear?'" Jerry imitated with his flashlight, pointing it right in Alan's eyes before dropping it back to his feet. "Whoops, sorry bro."

"Also who the fuck is Kizi? Is that some sort of weird nickname? Because I'm not very good with nicknames," Jerry said, casting a glance Bart's way. "Chances are we haven't seen her, though. Haven't seen too many people who are still alive. We tend to sorta cut a path, Matt n' me." His jaw worked like he was chewing on a really big piece of gum. "And uh, don't think anybody's gonna be saving us any time soon, either. Wasn't that news story from like, 2008? And the next game after that, nobody was rescuing shit. They all died."

Beat.

"Well, except the one girl. Mary something or other."
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"Yeah, kid, we're fuckin' sure."

Jerry didn't like being asked to repeat himself. Shit, was Bart even paying attention? Of course not. This is the dude who didn't notice soap being hucked at his head. Jerry clicked his tongue and whistled through his teeth as a final show of irritation but, in truth, he felt a small part of him wanting to apologize for having been so rough to Bart just then. By all accounts he was a chill kid, and Jerry didn't have a ton of problems with him around school. Maybe a bit of a butinski at times, Butinski Bart, but nothing worse than that.

Welp, if Bart wanted that apology for real, he better start learning how to read minds. In the meantime, Alan was a more pressing concern.

"I'd do it, dude," Jerry warned, pulling the switchbade from his pocket. The weapon was still in the closed position; he'd wait another second or two to see what Alan did before pressing that button. The little 'schwick', the blade popping out... ugh, it was so cool. SO COOL. He desperately wanted to do it again. "Either Matt shoots you, or Ass Stabber here comes out. And so far every time it's come out, it draws blood. Ask Noodz. Ask Trav."

Here it comes, the big delivery. 'Oh wait, you can't. I KILLED THEM!'

"Oh wait, you c-HUAGH!"

Jerry's throat ran dry and he coughed into the inside of his elbow. Damn it, in the middle of his cool line, too! Why did this place have to be so fucking dusty and shitty and abandoned!?
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((Skipping for flavor reasons; regular posting order may now resume))

"STEVEN SEGAL!"

Jerry wasn't sure why he screamed it, but it made the impact between his knuckles and Alan's temple all the more satisfying. The punch had no thought behind it; it was purely reactionary and on an instinctive level, like most of his actions or decisions today. Alan clearly wasn't expecting things to escalate as quickly as they did, because he dropped like a wet sack of bricks on the warehouse floor, pipe clattering out of his hands. Jerry was quick to scoop it up in his left hand, his right still stinging from a little knuckle-dusting. That, and his right fist was still clenched around the closed switchblade. He supposed Alan should count himself lucky that he wasn't stabbed instead.

"The fuck you calling an idiot!?" Jerry spat, waggling the pipe down at Alan who likely couldn't hear him. "I told you - Matt and I, we aren't to be fucked with." Jerry peered up at Bart, fairly sure he had his point made, then looked back down to Alan. "Think we just leave him there to think about what he's done, Matt?" Jerry asked. "He might be pretty fuggin' mad when he gets up, but I took his weapon and... I'unno. It feels kinda wrong to kick a man when he's down."
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Jerry twirled the pipe idly in his hands, peering back up to Bart. All this looking around was making him a bit dizzy.

"Dude. Just stay cool, chill the fuck out." He smirked, taking a step to the side. "You're cool, kid. Matt and I, we're just making a point here. On this island, either you're the scariest badass in the room or somebody's trying to kill you." He lowered his hand, extending the other- whoops, that still had a knife in it. He tucked the switchblade in his pocket, then held the empty one out.

"We're just trying to stay on the good side of that. I'm not a bad dude, kid," Jerry continued. "Both times I killed somebody, it was in self-defense. Matt and I aren't gonna draw more attention to ourselves than we have to. 'Cuz like..."

Shit, where was he going with this?

"Think about it for like, a second. Remember how they said somebody had to die every day? As long as we got people like... I'unno, Kimiko runnin' around, then we just have to stay by ourselves. People don't fuck with us, they don't die." He shrugged, patting the pipe against his palm. "Of course, once we hear that Kimiko and the others are dead... well, that might be problem. Might have to start being more active."

Jerry pressed his shoulder against a shelf. He didn't take a look at it but 9 to 1 odds said it probably held more of the same goddamn soap. "So you could go out there and probably die horribly, or stick with people who at least know what they're doing. Tough choice, I know. Don't be an idiot, you don't get knocked the fuck out. We're not gonna kill Alan, okay?"
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"Bart. Come on, kid." Jerry stepped over Alan (while doing his damndest to resist the urge to step on the kid's stomach and make a big show of it like he was Andre the Giant or something) and drew closer to Bart but, more importantly, closer to the center of the room where it was easier to have a conversation with flashlights abound.

"Not only do we go to the same school, but we just gave our names like, a minute ago. Well, 'cept Alessio because whooops, we might have been fibbing about that one." Jerry shrugged. "Sorry, not sorry. Aaaaanyway, I'm Jerry motherfuckin' Fury. Maybe you've heard of me. Cracker of skulls, martial artist extraordinaire, seasoned killer, eventual winner of this game. Uh, assuming nobody busts our ass out, I mean," he tossed the last bits as an aside.

"Oh and that's Matt."
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Jerry put forward the same confident smile he would have thrown to somebody asking if he could flick a rubber band at that stupid bitch of an English teacher, Mrs. Addison.

"Yeah, man!" he exclaimed, tilting his chin up slightly. "Just don't be dumb like Alan. First thing: You got any weapons on ya? We ain't gonna take them from ya, we just need to know our options, here." Jerry re-positioned his daypack's strap and looked over to Matt. "You nicked his food too, right? I'm getting kinda hungry here and my bread's nearly out."

A glance past Bart confirmed that it was still about as black as Mr. T's asshole outside. Made for difficult travel, but there was nothing of much use here and Jerry wasn't too fond of being around for the whinefest that would likely ensue when Alan woke up.

"Let's mosey, guys. Should find a good place to chill out and bunker up, catch some Z's and do whatever 'til morning. Then this fun little vacation starts all over again!"

((Jerry Fury, concluded in ROOOOOAD ROLLER DA!))
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Apr 6 2017, 03:16 AM.
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