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All I Have To Do Is Dream; Open
Topic Started: Mar 11 2017, 02:44 PM (227 Views)
TwelveFourtyFive
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((Alessio Rigano continued from Wait, don't be hasty))

The next trap was simple. You walk through the dormitories, search the rooms, find a gun lying on the floor of a dorm room (who doesn't want a gun in this situation?), pick it up and before you can react you're attacked from behind by Alessio. Then you die or something.

That's the plan.

Al still did not know how to kill with the sword in an efficient way, because it seemed like you need to brutally stab someone to die. That could turn out to be dangerous, but people who desperately want a gun probably have no way to hurt Alessio, when surprised. Perhaps they do, when they have enough time to react to his attack. He should not hesitate. He probably will, though.

The sword not being able to kill faster is an issue for both Al and the victim, thinking about that. Al couldn't recall having killed someone fast. It takes some time to die. Did it make a difference for the victim? Definitely. It is more painful than just dying and being freed from the pain. But could he do something about it? No. If Al dies, he wants to die fast, though. Either way, he should strike the visitors of this room and hit them hard. And he should not hesistate. Perhaps he will, but that's not something he can stop. He's a guy who thinks much. But after thinking, he should strike. Kill them or something.

That's the plan.

Alessio wasn't proud of it, but it will do. Using his fake gun as a bait so people will go into the room and he can appear from behind, having hidden behind the door, will do. It will lead to deaths. It will lead to supplies.

But quite honestly, he was tired and sick. Of this. Of all of this. This survival game. He thought it lasted too long two days ago, but today it was even longer.

It was monday, the announcements had announced. It was monday again. It was monday, and nothing had improved. He was sick of this. He didn't want to do anything. He wanted to die. But he was too afraid to. He wants to go home, but he was too weak to. He couldn't come home. He will never come home while an Isabel is armed and kills people, also wanting to go home. He will not outlive the other people here. If other people could survive until today, why would Al be able to outlive them?

He wants to go home, go to school, sleep without being afraid of dying, eat, without being afraid of dying, walk, without being afraid of dying.

Alessio felt like he felt on the first day. He wanted to lie around, do nothing, ignore anything, ignore the fact that he's going to get killed in some hours. But he had hopes. Hopes of a new life.

Hopes of a lonely life.

The night was lonely for Al, too. Another night he did not sleep much. He wandered, sat down, slept a bit, woke up, walked, waited, saw the smoke coming from the library, listened to the PSA regarding the fire, waited until the sun came out again, then waited for the announcement, then walked to the dorm room and slept a bit, but woke up, came up with the idea of using the gun as a bait to surprise people. Then, he waited behind the door, waiting patiently. Thought about everything.

Patience. That's what he learned here. Patience sucked, it was torture, but perhaps he would be better if he was more patient. He had to be patient, learn to be patient. An adult was patient, Alessio was not patient on the island. He was not patient at all. He just wants to get out. Immediately.

That was not going to happen. God, it was monday. He wants to get out of here, just leave now. His head felt heavy from these thoughts letting his nervousness spread.

His thoughts drifted. Distract from the island. But it drifted again.

Silly thoughts, like that he thought that murdering was bad, but that killing was kinda natural. In some way, it was natural. Murdering was bad for sure, though, perhaps killing was bad as well. He did not know. His cats kill. Animals kill. Humans kill. Yes, cats and tigers killed...but they don't kill their families and friends. He discarded these thoughts, though, because it did not matter what he was doing was right or wrong, because the outcome would be the same. He either dies or gets die'd. He cannot compare this situation with any other situation. He was in a hypothetical moral dilemma of a philosopher. He was in some silly ultimatum, where there were just two options, both outcomes not being nice. Becoming a murderer to live? That's an ultimatum many people would choose. Some people wouldn't. Abby wouldn't. She believed in afterlife, probably, she would've never been an harmful soul.

There was a thought that the terrorists wouldn't even release them once they killed everyone, but kill him, too, just for the sake of terrorism. But that thought let his stomache hurt.

Another thought he thought about was, that he could be hunted. Alvaro, Nancy are dead. He could be hunted, too. It felt weird that Alvaro was dead. Not only because he remembered him from the cafe and that he would never be able to play chess with him again. Not only because Alvaro, as a person, with his feelings, with his experience, with his big chess brain, was gone. It also felt weird, because Alvaro saved Al from Michael. If the two of them would've sticked together, Al didn't know what would've happened.

Alvaro was a good guy, he had a gun, but did not kill everyone he encountered, otherwise Mike, Maria and Al would be dead. So he probably was killed by someone who wanted to kill him. Well, Mike and Maria were now dead, too, so the outcome would've been the same.

But Al was a killer now, too. He couldn't trust people. The more people he kills, the less people can trust him.

Then, he thought about how long it took for a human to be raised. Here are 17 and 18 year old students. It took 18 years for the parents, environment and friends to form a personality, a person, a character, but now, in these five days...This island kills a lot of humans. It just takes a minute to let seventeen years go away. Away it will go. It felt like the terrorists were felling trees. Trees that were hundred of years old, just gone in a day.

Alessio wished there was another way, to let the people live on, that their memories can be captured, that they could live on, but there was no way. Alessio could only wish that this terror ends soon.

It was conflicting that he should kill, should be the one to let the game end faster. Imagine him not being there. Four people would've been alive today. Four more people would be required for the game to end.

But that did not excuse that he killed futures. He killed dreams. Everybody had dreams. Everybody. Al wanted to become a rock star, a vetenerian. Cam also had a dream. But he crushed it. With every move he'd make, he will crush futures, he will crush the dreams of everyone.

He killed Cameron's dream of becoming a superstar. He killed Henry's future, his future where he could explore the world, experience more stuff, gather more information he can save in his superbrain. Maria will never be able to cook again, or party again. The terrorists destroyed their futures, too, yes, they were the reason they died, but Alessio...Alessio...was the person. He was the one who decided that they will not be the one survivor. He realised that he was an individual who chose who would survive and who would not. This relevation was shocking for him. He never looked it at that way. They all had a chance of being the one. They all had the chance of being the one surviving. There could have been the chance that if Al had not killed them, that no one else would have killed them either.

Alessio felt guilt. He waited too long behind the door. He had too much time to think.

Fucking hell, somebody just come in now.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Steps. A voice. Alessio breathed. And that girl did not step in yet.

She knew that he was here. She felt his presence. She was talking to him. No chance to surprise her. But she didn't know where he was.

He just needs some time. Just some time. Just some time before he attacks. He was going to do it. Kill the girl. The voice was familiar. But who it was not important. He was afraid of failing, dying.

He leaned against the wall, sword ready in hand, ready to strike. He needs to mentally prepare.

In ten seconds, in ten seconds, he's going to strike.

Ten.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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The person stepping in turned around. Trembled lips, red eyes shot wide open, face looked like she stared at a zombie.

Lucilly was in front of him.

No, Lucilly was the name she shouted. Her name was. Unimportant.

Asha. Michael. Chapel. That was the girl. Now he was bloodier. Now he was a known killer, not a presumed one. Explains her shock.

He stared at her, considered sliding forward, but that second it was just a consideration.

Eight
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Now the consideration turned to an action. He slid forward, Dorothy fell, Alessio could move his sword forward.

Alessio took a deep breath. He was prepared.

Soon.

Six
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TwelveFourtyFive
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The robotics club member did not want to know what it felt like to have volt injected through you like a robot. But he was in pain, in shock. He backed away, wanted to avoid the shock, lost balance.

He thought he was stabbed, he thought he was dying. He thought he was bleeding from the stomach. He did not expect that move.

He was down on the dirty, dusty floor, staring at Dorothy. Sword lying next to him, his hands covering the imaginary stab wound in his torso.

Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Or, at least tried to.
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TwelveFourtyFive
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Alessio did not understand the words that were said. He was too much focussed on the shock.

All he knew was that she left and after some minutes of lying on the floor, his head was clear again. He was not stabbed. He was alive.

But his sword was gone. Now, he was back to zero. He picked up the gun. This gun, this useless gun and his bag he hid in the room were the only things left. No sword anymore.

He wouldn't kill with his bare hands. He had to think of something else to make a weapon with. He'd figure out. This gun would keep him safe, hopefully, though. He took all of his stuff and decided to move somewhere else. He was curious about a thing, though.

Why was Dot so shocked when he saw him? He looked through the window to look at the island, seeing the reflection and distortion of himself.

((Alessio Rigano continued in Forklift Driver Klaus))
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