To the east of the mansion is another small beach, clearly a private area enjoyed by the former owners of the large building. This beach is clear of refuse, though the sand and rocks are of no higher quality than that of the northern beaches.* Threads Allowed: 3 *
Joined: December 31st, 2008, 7:54 am

May 27th, 2011, 5:40 am #11

Hey, Garrett, no worries. Jeremy's pretty zen as far as getting constantly shit-talked goes. Fuck, all things considered, you actually have the patience of a saint here. How many days of traveling with Jeremy now? Like, two? Two whole days?

Fuck, somebody pin a medal on this kid.

And hey, it'll go great with the badass Rebel Alliance uniform Garrett's about to get for himself. Haha, what a lovable, predictable fucker. Guy sees a revolution, first thing he's got to do is lift up his leg and mark his territory. Perhaps that is too subtle of a phrasing.

Garrett, you are literally peeing on this revolution.

Alright, well, enough jokes for now. There was this badass special forces dude, and there was this piece of paper that'd been burning a hole in his pocket for days now, so go ahead and put that jigsaw together.

“Hey, uh- lookit here, these are, uh... this is what Liz used to... fuck, you probably know more about it than me. Point is, uh, you think we can get something going where we leave a bunch of these behind, distribute them and shit? Y'know, for all the guys who won't be able to make it here in time.”

“Nah, I wouldn't leave those around if I were you,” said badass special forces guy, whose name was probably something manly-as-fuck like Brock Hardcastle. “The terrorists figured that trick out and patched it. Left another hole, though, and that's a part of why we're here. I'll fill you in later."

“Oh”. So he took it back. “Fuck, man. Then this is a souvenir.”

Brock didn't seem to mind.

So that was all moral obligations fulfilled, huh. All tasks at hand cleared, time to hop on a boat and take what's assumedly a leisurely ocean cruise. Time to just kick back, find the snack bar or whatever shit, and go nuts. Nothing on the horizon but calm seas and bags of peanuts. Maybe find a Take5 bar in there if you're lucky.


If you're lucky.

((Jeremy Franco continued in Elizabeth))

((Jeremy Franco continued from Elizabeth))

Huh? Oh, shit, sorry. Drifted off there for a second.


Joined: November 29th, 2009, 3:46 am

May 29th, 2011, 3:25 am #12

((GMing of the STAR members done with permission from the staff))

The guy on the boat was approached by a girl. After about a minute,

Beep. The collar came off. Just like that. Meaning that this rescue attempt was probably not bullshit. Especially as the guy that made the announcement accepted both some other guy as well as Simon before making an announcement.

"This is your captain speaking again. As always, if you want to live, choose STAR airlines. Boats. Whatever. Anyways, the following people are not invited to the party:

Maxwell Lombardi, Reiko Ishida, Raidon Naoko, Hayley Kelly, Ema Ryan, Kris Hartmann, Ilario Fiametta, Liam Brooks, Rachel Gettys, Quincy Jones, Peter Siu, Jimmy Brennan, Nick LeMonde, Teo Weinstock, Janet Binachi, Ericka Bradley, Alex White, George Leidman, and Joe Rios, all of you are not invited. Unless, of course, you want to die."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. That was all the confirmation he needed. He felt a little bad for Nick, but then again, he did try to kill Simon. As Simon approached the boat, one of the armed guys asked for his bags. Simon took out the tire iron and the ammo and handed it to the guy.

"Everything else in my bags is issued provisions. Don't think I'll be feeding anyone to death." He walked a couple steps before turning around. "Also, I'm Simon. Telamon. There were a couple other Simons in the game, but I think I'm the only one left." He walked towards the girl with the gear, and she did some technical stuff which Simon had only the basic idea of, namely that after a minute ...

Beep. There was a soft click as the collar released, and Simon pulled it off - for real this time, as he got on the boat, as he rubbed his neck where the collar used to be, and stared for a second at the now (finally) useless piece of metal on the beach.

Σας ευχαριστώ, ο Απόλλωνας, ο Θεός του δοξαριού ασήμι, ο Δίας, το Λόρδο του σκοτεινού σύννεφου θύελλας, και Παλλάς Αθηνά. Θα θυσιάσουμε το επόμενο γεύμα μου σε εσάς. (Thank you, Apollo, God of the silver bow, Zeus, Lord of the dark storm cloud, and Pallas Αthena. I shall sacrifice my next meal to you.)
Female #16: Jaime Schanbacher; Status: ACTIVE 0
Female #42: Sabrina Luz; Status: ACTIVE 0

[+] spoiler
Male #9 - Zubin Wadia; Status: ACTIVE, "... and for those three reasons, good fences make good neighbors."(-5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10)
Female #32 - Katarin "Kat" Tolstoff; Status: #70 ELIMINATED, "How's Miles? He must really be in a lot of pain right now."(-2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5)
Male #53 - Michael Whaley - Status: #9 ELIMINATED; "Just ... wanted" (-1 0 1)
[+] spoiler
Male #16 - Jason Clarke; Status: #111 ELIMINATED, Final Location: Instinct - "Bollocks ..."
Male #28 - James "Jimmy" Robertson; Status: #97 ELIMINATED, Final Location: Darken Your Clothes and Strike a Violent Pose - "Stay strong ..."
Male #41 - Simon Telamon; Status: #213 RESCUED, Final Location: A Slight Change of Plans - ??? ?????????, ? ?????????, ? ???? ??? ???????? ?????, ? ????, ?? ????? ??? ????????? ???????? ???????, ??? ?????? ?????. ?? ?????????? ?? ??????? ????? ??? ?? ????.
Female #31 - Charlene Norris; Status: #189 ELIMINATED, Final Location: Everyday is like Sunday - ""You're my ... BFF. You ... were the best ..."
Female #50 - Tiffany Chanders; Status: #161 ELIMINATED, Final Location: Legoland Empire - What is she going to do with that now? It's not like (Adopted from selphie_trabia)
[+] spoiler
Survivor: The Cursed Islands

Gandhi Tribe

Female #17: Jaquilyn Locke WINNER
Female #9: Cassidy Kant SECOND PLACE
Female #16: Venice Pennington-Johannes THIRD PLACE
Male #9: Zubin Wadia JURY MEMBER #10
Male #14: Joachim Lovelace JURY MEMBER #9
Male #4: Owen Kay JURY MEMBER #8
Female #57: Cammy Davidson JURY MEMBER #7
Female #39:Lana Torres JURY MEMBER #6
Female #12: Cassandra Black JURY MEMBER #5
Male #29: Matt Masters JURY MEMBER #4
Female #32: Kat Tolstoff JURY MEMBER #3
Male #41: Virgil Jefferson-Davis JURY MEMBER #2
Male #32: Rutherford ?R.J.? Roger JURY MEMBER #1

Gwe Tribe
Douglas MacAllister #3 MEDEVACED
Male #59: David Zimmer #8 ELIMINATED
Male #24: Francis St. Ledger #9 ELIMINATED

Shak-Ti Tribe
Female #44: Sharon Austin #5 ELIMINATED
Female #18: Claire Monaghan #7 ELIMINATED

Varna Tribe
Female #19: Miranda Millers #6 ELIMINATED
Female #64: Alice Gilman #4 ELIMINATED

Brahman Tribe
Jake Mordetsky #1 ELIMINATED
Mass Effect Mafia - PLAY AND WIN

SOTF Survivor 2 - PLAY AND WIN

Little Boy
Joined: June 12th, 2010, 12:28 am

May 29th, 2011, 5:45 am #13

(( Jay Holland continues from The Stoner Always Dies))

Jay Holland walked down the beach, his posture terrible, his head slumped as if he were a man walking towards his own execution, rather then rescue. He'd given the people on the boats a small wave as he'd cleared the tree line, to signal his intents were harmless. He still couldn't make out who exactly was there, but it was a fair number of people.


Off to his right, laying sprawled in the sand... A girl. He swallowed hard. He'd seen dead bodies before, Maria... The boy at the fair. The David killed by Janet. But this one seemed to hit particularly hard. The girl was so close to salvation- true, she'd probably died earlier on, but still. Just a few days and she'd be on that boat, not laying face down in the sand. That bitter hatred arose in him again. Jay stopped walking, staring at the corpse.

With a hint of hesitance in his steps, Jay walked over towards the body. As he got closer he realized just who it was- Brown hair, beads and colorful jewelry. His heart sank. Sapphire McLeod. They'd shared classes, never ran in the same social groups. Member of that Christian group. A nice plain girl.

"Shit." He whispered, bending down and rolling the girl over. Mercifully, her eyes were closed. Gunshots to the chest. He grimaced as the smell of decay hit him. Jay turned away, unable to look any longer.

What was he even doing? Hayley and Janet were watching- he had a boat to catch. He gave one last look down at the corpse before rising. He'd never been the best with words- he supposed an eulogy or something would be appropriate, but he didn't have the time and he didn't have the willpower.

Something gleamed in the sand. Jay's curiosity peaked, he bent down, snatching it up. A Tamagotchi. Why did she-

Her weapon. The fuckers gave her a joke weapon.

Sadness overwhelmed him. She'd been fucked from the start. Sapphire McLeod hadn't been given a choice.

Jay pocketed the item, shouldered his bag and continued on his way. It was light, and it wasn't too long until he was on the shoreline, looking up at the ship, and the imposing men on it.

"Uh." He began, before craning his neck, looking behind at the others boarding and already aboard the ship. Jeremy Franco. Harun Kemal, another boy, swearing in a language he didn't know.

Pretty decent haul.

It was a terrible joke and he didn't bother to laugh. Jay cleared his throat. He wanted to look back toward the treeline, back towards his friends. He didn't know if they'd already left or were intent on watching him go. He wondered what would be worse. He hoped to see them again. He prayed it would happen- in real life, not on the screen. He'd watch their run. The rest of the world probably saw them as villains, and they'd need some hometown support.

Don't look. Don't look back.

He stared down at his feet, guilt washing over him in tune with the tide.

"I don't suppose I can hitch a ride?"



A short while later, Jay sat in the back corner of the boat, his bag tucked in close. He'd isolated himself from the rest of the passengers, aside from a few greetings he hadn't said a word to anyone. He'd sat down and the others had left him to it.

There wasn't much in his pack. A spare change of clothes, the Tamagotchi, which was dubbed Mimi for some reason. He'd renamed it Cheech and had gotten to work feeding it and cleaning up its poop. The others must have thought he was crazy, and he accepted the idea wholeheartedly with a small grin.

He didn't know what would happen next. The rescuers hadn't been very clear with the next step, but he assumed they had it under control. And if not, well, at least they'd fucked Danya over some.

He wasn't okay with it. Not in the least, but he kept it inside. The others had enough to deal with, angsting wouldn't do any good.

If I just smile, I guess they'll think it's all okay.

It wasn't much, but it was the best plan he'd thought up the entire game. Say some witty things, pull a few jokes, smile and make things easy for everyone. Make things easy. Something ever a brain dead stoner couldn't fuck up, right?

He supposed he should get started. Maybe he should start up a conversation, Franco would probably be more then willing. The kid had never been one to let things like death-games and killing ones friends get him down. Maybe he would make a flag. Hell, if this was their ship, it'd need a flag. And a name.

A stupid name. Something stupid that an idiot stoner would come up with.

The S.S "Dat Ass"

He hoped the others would mind him hoisting up a flag made of red panties.

Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
[+] spoiler

Jay Holland > "If I just smile, I guess they'll think it's all okay." ESCAPED
Jimmy Brennan > H&K CAWS (12 gauge) > "Step through that door and underestimate me, just like all the rest!" > PLACED: 22 / 276
Roland Harte > Kris > " This is, for all intents and purposes, my war now." > PLACED: 150 / 276
Orn "Dutchy" Ayers > Harpoon > "I fell in a puddle..." > PLACED: 98 / 276

Abby Erickson > Claw Hammer > "I get tired easy, so maybe the big sleep would be good for me." PLACED: 27 / 53
Brett Torres > Raven Arms MP-25 (.25) [x4 clips (6 round capacity)] 17/24 /// Stoner 63 (5.56x45mm) [(150 rounds per Drum)] 300/300 > "Bloodthirsty little bunch, ain't we?"
Jonas Jeffries > PINK TEAM > MAC-10 [x8 clips (30 Round Capacity)] 30/30 > " 'ow doo I make the muggafuggin' kh-chg noibs?!" PLACED: 31 / 66
wrote:"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey
NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.

Joined: April 26th, 2008, 11:42 pm

May 30th, 2011, 2:56 am #14

For the longest time, Eiko stood there, watching a motley crew of surviving students walk up to their saviors and get their shackles removed. She recognized two of them, a belligerent fist fighter and an overenthusiastic boy who called himself a businessman. Then again, she thought, perhaps she shouldn't judge him. At school she kept a fancy case full of business cards to hand out to any and all acquaintances, even her close friends. She winced a bit as she recalled that heavy dose of pretentiousness from her past life. Would she ever be able to hand out cards with a straight face again?

The three boys on the beach got their collars off, got their bags checked, and hopped aboard the boat. It was her turn now. She willed herself to move forward, told herself that this wasn't a trap or a mirage, that she was really allowed to go home. Her next few steps down the beach were taken at a sprint, but then she realized that these heavily-armed people might get the wrong idea if she rushed them like that. So she came to a clumsy stop and walked the rest of the way.

Before she got there, she heard another announcement from the man with the megaphone, the list of those who were beyond redemption. Only two of them got her attention in paricular. First came Hartmann, and she couldn't help but crack a wide smile at hearing it. She had given up her chance to exact personal revenge on the madwoman for humiliating her, but when she really thought about it, she didn't have much of a chance for that at all. The knowledge that she would live and Hartmann would die was a great consolation prize.

But then she heard Peter Siu's name, and her smiles faltered. She walked up to a woman standing near the boat. "Peter's not coming, then?" she asked.

The woman looked up at Eiko and shook her head. "He killed three people. It would be hard to justify that even if he didn't do it in cold blood."

Three? Eiko thought back; she might have heard Peter's name on the announcement once after leaving him. "I saw him kill Lucas, he did it to save me."

"I know," the woman said. "But then he shot Jessie Anderson and Jackie Broughten without provocation. Jessie because she told him she was trying to meet Liz Polanski, and Jackie because she mouthed off to him. We can't forgive that. He stays here."

Eiko frowned and deliberated on this new information. It didn't match with what she knew about Peter, though it did explain why he might have left her. He didn't want her to see what he thought he had to do.

"Idiot," she mumbled. "We could have left together if you stayed with me."

The other woman looked confused. "I suppose you're right," she said, "but it can't be helped now. You have any weapons?"

"No. They're all broken. Can I get on board now?" Eiko's voice started to get a sharp edge to it.

"Okay, okay, just hold on and I'll get you settled." She removed an odd device from her belt. "Now hold still."

Eiko closed her eyes and felt something push her collar into the back of her neck, then the entire thing fell off. Her hands rushed back up to her neck and felt nothing but bare skin, rubbed raw though it was. The open collar lay on the ground in front of her. "Thank you," she said, walking over to the boat and getting on, picking a seat next to Franco.

"Jeremy," she said as a way of greetings, for once forgoing the use of an honorific. It was a special occasion, after all.


Now to play the waiting game. Eiko clasped her hands tightly together, and looked around for anything that could change her fortunes yet again. She would never feel safe again, not until she was safe at home again.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

[+] spoiler
B081 - Roland Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"Fuck it." c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3<
G070 - Cassidy Wakemore Condition: DEAD.
"No doubts. No regrets." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
G076 - Lillian Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"My best wasn't good enough..." <> <> <> <>
G079 - Eiko Haraguchi Condition: ELIMINATED.
"Is it really over?" <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3<
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !

Joined: October 1st, 2008, 9:13 pm

May 30th, 2011, 1:56 pm #15

((Acacia Salinger continued from Everyday is like Sunday))

Good morning death island.

That was what she had woken up to.

She hadn't been able to find the others, after losing Hayley and Ema and whoever else they had been with, she had attempted to get back to the cliffs. It shouldn't have been too hard, they were, after all, at the southern tip of the island. Just using her compass would have taken her there. Then she realised that she had lost her compass, along with her map, her gun, half her clothes, all of the spare insulin that wasn't currently loaded into the pen, the blood sugar monitoring device. It was her only saving grace that she had been in a hurry to leave the beach and had just thrown it into the bag with everything else.

The down side was that it was her long lasting stuff. Which was fine so long as she didn't eat anything. Well, as far as sshe knew anyway, the fact was that she didn't really understand how all this stuff worked. She injected long lasting, the stuff in the purple pen, in the morning and evening. The fast acting was just before a meal, or just after if she'd eaten too much. Acacia had no idea if they were interchangeable, she'd saved herself from ever having to find out by always having far more with her than she needed. And she was never far from a pharmacy where she could get more if she lost it. She had been prepared for every situation, except this one.

So, after taking an inventory of her belongings, she discovered that she had no food, one bottle of water, one pen of long acting insulin, one sweater, some mascara, a magazine she hadn't even read yet, and a duffel bag with a large hole in the bottom of it. The lack of food didn't matter anyway, without insulin she couldn't eat anything. But the not eating made her tired, and so she lay down for a sleep. And that was when she had been woken up by the voice.

At first, she'd thought it was an announcement. Another day where all her friends turned out to have died in the night and she hadn't been able to do anything to save them. But it wasn't. It was rescue. Someone was coming to save them! Haphazardly, she scrambled to her feet, and nearly fainted as she pitched over sideways. Need to eat something. She rifled through her bag again, her fingers grasping a small bag of boiled sweets that was nestled inside the soft blue sweater. They were slightly melted, and definately not in one of her favourite flavours, but she ripped the bag open and poured the lot of them into her mouth. They were sticky and sweet and she felt queasy as her saliva turned into syrup and swirled unconfortable around her mouth. Hesitantly, she tried to chew them, and her teeth, weakened by days of not having time to brush them, recoiled with pain and Acacia made a stifled cry, muffled by the sweets.

Please take me! she thought weakly to herself, as the voice, that God-like voice, tole them that murderes weren't allowed. "I'm NOT a murderer!" she cried out to the silence, a bird nestled in a bush somewhere nearby flew away. "He wanted me to do it, he wanted me to survive. I didn't want to kill him," she whimpered, leaning heavily on a tree to try and haul herself to her feet. Swaying slightly, the sugar slowly started to take hold, and she started to walk.

It was the slowest walk of her life.

Minutes ticked by. 6 of them. An hour. She walked in the direction that she reckoned the voice had come from. You definately passed that leaf before! Keeping on going.

Trudging. She'd never really understood that word. But this was what trudging was.

Thirty more minutes. Huh? It hadn't been coming from that far away, surely. Once she tripped over a tee shirt that actually belonged to herself, she realised that she must have doubled well back and be back at the cliffs already. But the sea was... behind her? The boat must be near the sea.

The voice spoke again. It was so loud.... Sounded like he was stood right behind her! Acacia turned around to try and find him, but he wasn't there. What she did see was a bird, which had a pair of her underwear perched jauntily on its head. Confused, she cocked her head to one side at it, and narrowed her eyes. A slip of white cotton and pink lace, one of her favourites. And now a bird was going to take it away and build a nest with it. Acacia laughed, there were so many more important things in life. Like staying alive, and finding the boat.

Sugar'll kill you slower than insulin will. Some girl she'd met at clinic had told her that. The girl had been hospitalised the week before because her sugar levels were out of control; apparenty she'd only been diagnosed a year previously. That was why she knew so much about it, this was a big thing for her. For Acacia it was a way of life, something she didn't even need to think about. The girl (what was her name? Mia or something) asked Acacia how long she'd been diabetic for, and Acacia had shrugged. "Fourteen years," she said after a pause. It hadn't been a hard puzzle to solve, she just had to take her current age and subtract one. She couldn't remember a time she hadn't know, probably thought that all kids had to start being jabbed with needles fourteen times a day once they turned a certain age. She wondered how her parents had explained that one to her.

David had been nice about it, she could remember that much. David kissing the bruises on her stomach better and distracting her by pulling faces. Hugging her when she'd had a hypo and mixing glucose sachets together because she was too small to reach the tap. Being nice, protective.

If David were here, everything would be okay. Tears ran down her face as she thought about her brother, leaving at the airport in his desert sands uniform, a single badge pinned to his breast, a rucksack that drowned him strapped securely onto his back. He laughed and joked with the other guys, a couple of them had leered at her and David had punched them away protectively, laughing as he did so. They knew he was only playing, they knew his sister was well out of bounds. And her Mom had gripped onto her hand, and her Dad had that stoic expression like he was trying not to cry.

And at the last moment, when they were getting on the plane, David had looked around, and for a moment they had all seen him as a seven year old, anxious about a thunderstorm, coming into Mom and Dad's room where a three year old Acacia had already wriggled between them. He had been wearing light blue pajamas with trucks on, and was clutching his toy dinosaur, Henry. When David was gone, Henry usually sat at his place at the table.

She wondered if her parents had put anything of her at the table. For the thousandth time, she hoped to God that her brother was okay.

And then, the bird flew away, her underwear still on it's head. She hoped that the baby birds would enjoy their new home of white cotton and pink lace, it would certainly be more luxurious than twigs and leaf. Smiling, Acacia turned around, and realised that she had been metres from the tree line that demarkated the beach. And there, there they were. Her saviours! There weren't all that many people there, considering how long it had been. Acacia wondered why so many people had stayed away. Were there really so few of them left? There were quite a few of them on that list of people that weren't allowed on the boats.

Thank god I didn't kill Ricky, she thought to herself. There had been moments when she'd been close to pulling the trigger, and she hadn't, and if she had she might have been one of the damned, forced to stay and fight for her life, when actually she was allowed to go home. Home. One's place of residence. I am going to go home.

She thought about her home. It was something she'd always taken for granted, having somewhere to live. Even if it was the small house in Indiana, or Julia's townhouse on Long Island, or the huge detached monstrosity they'd owned ever since they came to Minnesota, every time it had been Home and she'd always lived under the assumption that no matter where she was, she would be able to go back there. And then, this had happened, and she had been forced to accept the fact that maybe she wouldn't.

Stumbling, her pulse raced and her face white. Hands shaking as she walked up to the man with the megaphone, her hands up. She hadn't been on his list, but she didn't know if that list was exhaustive. Her words slurred slightly, but she had no idea what was wrong with her. Hypo, hyper, maybe just tired.

"Hi I'mmacacia. Didn't mean to kill Roman, he was dyingenway. Yougot any ninsulin?"

the world is on my side
i have no reason to run
[+] spoiler
++ G018 Acacia Salinger - FN Barracuda [6/6] - hi mom... it's me ++
STATUS: ELIMINATED, and living happily ever after [59/276] ~ &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; &#10084; Post-game: &#10084; &#10084;

++ G033 Maddy Stone - Machete - i pray the lord my soul to take ++
STATUS: DECEASED, and probably a bit mouldy by now [196/276] ~ &#10014; &#10014; &#10014; &#10014; &#10014;

++ B021 Neill Robertson - Skateboard - as if we're gonna get rescued... ++
STATUS: DECEASED, written his final, awful, bit of prose [40/276] ~ &#9998; &#9998; &#9998; &#9998; &#9998; &#9998;

++ G100 Helen Wilson - Glowsticks [6] - can you open your eyes? ++
STATUS: DECEASED, almost escaped, but died first [86/276] ~ &#10047; &#10047; &#10047; &#10047; &#10047; &#10047; &#10047; &#10047;
shiny shiny V5 concepts (now with clickies)
Phoebe Cho - I shall be playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor. Wizard!
Harry Hanley - I've got Hershey's at half price today! Get 'em quick before I have rehearsal!
Lor Van Diepen - I'm gonna make a video later. About running. Does that sum me up enough?

Joined: July 23rd, 2008, 11:45 pm

May 30th, 2011, 10:26 pm #16

((Mike Moretti & Violet Druce continued from Throw It On a Fire. written by Hallucinogenic & posted on his behalf))

Goodbyes were never easy. For Violet, they were all too final.

Her mother had died when she was tiny, so she didn’t have that closure. Whenever she got asked what her one wish would be - had they found a genie someday – she wouldn’t answer. She’d clam up, and keep the truth to herself because she didn’t want to spoil the game. Sometimes she’d fake it, tell her friends something funny to keep the atmosphere light, but if they asked right now, as she and Mike headed towards the beach, there was only one thing she would say.

That’s why she’d been so quiet since they left the house. Mike didn’t want to upset her, so he didn’t push for a reply, yet all he wanted to do was make sure she was alright. He wanted to hold her again, just for a little while, but he knew he shouldn’t. Whatever feelings he’d grown for her were destined not to flourish; her mind was always elsewhere, always focused on someone else. But that was okay. If they started anything now, here, it would only end in heartbreak either way. That’s how life went on the island. Couples tore themselves apart, friends lost each other, siblings turned to rivals, and they all ended up alone.

One by one, the tin soldiers fell, and there was no-one there to catch them.

At least, that’s what he believed before the announcements came earlier than they should, and the voices weren’t familiar and sadistic.
And that’s why they’d travelled so far in so few an hour.

They weren’t looking for a pit stop, or a house full of supplies, not this time. They’d heard the voice of God, or his human counterpart, and he decreed it the rapture. They were going home. All their hope had been made real, and all he could think about was his family, his old friends, his neighbours, his whole entire life that he thought he’d never get the chance to live again. His face still felt sticky where the tears had ran, and though he hugged her and laughed and cried over and over again, he never noticed the look in Violet’s eyes, nor the falsity of her smile.

Because you see, Violet was never any good at goodbyes.


Reaching the shore at long last, stained as it was with blood and debris from days of fighting, the two of them stared out at the sea with breathless gasps of disbelief.

Nothing could’ve prepared them for the emotions they felt when they saw that shimmering lifeline to the real world for the very first time. It was as though they’d both been born again, like someone had given them new blood; new eyes to see with. Everything glowed and sang as the boat bobbed up and down in some mad hypnotic fashion. It was real, and it was here, just for them. There were others on board that they could see from where they stood, and a surly-looking man stood tall in front of them, beckoning them both with a wave of his hand.

Mike didn’t think it could be possible – how could something this good happen to them when they were so definitely doomed to die. All that running, and starving, and guilt, and death, and what had it accomplished? All of that was a dream to him now, to both of them, like they’d finally woken up and saw the sun for the first time in years. It blinded them, but softly, and warmly, and as they bathed in the miracle the tow of them began to fall away from one another.
He couldn’t contain himself, as he dropped his pack to the ground and shambled forwards out from the trees and the shade. His face felt wet once more, but he didn’t care; of course he didn’t, no-one would, not when he was about to be set free. The sand felt different too, gentler on his feet, as though he weighed nothing at all, like air. Such liberation, and yet, still, there was a jabbing in his heart. Something was wrong. What was it? The sand felt a little less gentle again as he turned his head to the side.

There was Violet, that hadn’t changed. But why wasn’t she moving? Was she afraid? He looked back to the man on the boat, who beckoned them furiously with his whole body, screaming for them to get on board. If they didn’t leave now, they’d be stuck here until they died. He knew she didn’t want that, so what was keeping her here?

It hit him suddenly, like a bullet.

He knew the reason why.

He’d known it all along, whenever she mentioned his name, or when she found that jar in his bag. Every time she thought about him, her face would light up, and she’d remember another one of their times together, back when they were filming, or whenever he stayed over just so they could stay up late watching the entire Elm Street series. The two of them may have drifted in the past year, she’d told him one night, but she missed him. So much it kept her awake some nights, she’d said. He remembered how he felt when she told him that part, how long he’d spent not knowing her. It didn’t matter before all this, when they were just kids like everybody else. They moved in different circles and they didn’t share a class, but here, everything was different. They’d been drawn together, and now that they were so close to escaping, he couldn’t let her go. He had to tell her. Trent was probably on the boat already, waiting for her, so this was the last chance he had to say something before they headed back. He took her hand-

“I’m not going.”

-before she took it away.

Even though he hadn’t seen it coming, he wasn’t surprised. It was always going to end like this, wasn’t it? That guy was always going to come first.

“I’m sorry, I just, I need to find him. I need- I need to know he’s okay before I leave.”

She was torn. He could see it in her face. Every rational part of her wanted to grab hold of him and run for the boat, faster than she’d ever ran in her life, but she knew that she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Mike, I- I just- I know we’ve been through so much, and oh God, I’ve been so lucky to have you with me, I-“

More tears. They’d shed so many today, but these were different. These meant she would never see him again. Those were the kind that came out in fractured cries and hiccups, showing him just how much she actually cared about him. Then came that desire again, the one that told him to hold her, to never let go. This time he’d oblige, because he finally understood. He’d never been second-best, not even when he let down his guard and she got hurt, and it all made sense now, all of it.

She tried to say something, but he shushed her quietly as she fell back into his chest. The man was still shouting far behind them, but he waved him away. I’ll be there in a minute, this told him, just give me this before I go.

And once she’d settled down, and her body stopped twitching with the force of this farewell, they both began to laugh. It always felt good to laugh, didn’t it? Yeah, he thought, always good. He wiped away her bangs with his fingers, like he’d always wanted to do, and smiled as their laughter trickled into silence.

This was the last time he would ever see her face, or say something encouraging, but nothing seemed to come. It was too hard to lie and say it was all going to be okay, because they were beyond that now. Once he got on that boat, they’d be apart, and he’d never forgive himself for letting her go, not ever, but he knew there was no going back for her. Not now. Not while someone out there needed her, much more than she needed him.

She smiled sadly, wiping another loose tear from her eyes, and exhaled deeply.

He smiled too, then held her tight.

She felt his breath wash over her hair, then listened as he spoke into her ear.

“I wish we could’ve had what you’ve got with him.”

Another breath, as they stood in the light, then he steadily slipped out of her grasp.

By the time he looked back, when he was halfway to the boat, she was already gone.

But he swore he would always remember her.


((Violet Druce continued elsewhere))

MW's Private Rank
Joined: February 18th, 2009, 7:01 am

May 30th, 2011, 11:32 pm #17

((Jennifer Perez continued from A way a lone a last))

It was total coincidence that Jennifer found herself staring at a boat on the east beach. She'd passed out of the felled forest after dealing with the other girl, not really sure where she was going or what she was doing, just looking for somewhere to be. She'd figured she'd just go somewhere safe and be there for a while, but nowhere was safe in this game, not anymore. Everywhere was full of death and destruction. Everywhere was a graveyard.

There was, however, one place where she had felt safe recently, where she had been able to escape everything for a while. The roof of the groundskeeper's hut had been her sanctuary, and, more than that, it was a place other people were unlikely to be. Okay, it was also a danger zone, but that would be cleared at the next announcement. She could just go there again and sit on that roof until she died or was forced to move. It was as good a goal as anything else.

So she'd backtracked through a little pass in the mountains, avoiding the place where it had all gone wrong, avoiding where Melissa and who-knew-who-else lay. She'd looped past the house of mirrors again, and she'd remembered, and she'd wished she'd never left that note. It had brought Nick to them, and that was why Melissa was dead. It was so fucked up. All she'd done was try to remain with her friends, to find some comfort and safety in this game, just for a little while. She hadn't asked for much. Fuck, she'd not even wanted to live that much longer. She hadn't even really expected Melissa or Maf or Nick to get off. They were just supposed to outlast her, to spare her the pain of seeing them go.

She'd moved quickly, covering the entire ground in maybe four or five hours, walking tirelessly. It was quicker, moving when you no longer gave a fuck that someone might stumble over you and fill you with bullets.

It wasn't like they would. No one except Jimmy Brennan had made so much as a move to physically harm Jennifer during her stay on the island. She was protected by diplomatic immunity or something, the fucking Switzerland of Survival of the Fittest. Neutral. Not a threat to anyone. Someone you could go cry to, no matter how many murders you'd committed.

Her hands were entwined in her hair, yanking at the short strands, not hard enough to really hurt, but plenty to keep a constant pressure on her scalp. She didn't even know what she was doing. She was lost, not in any geographical sense, just lost with herself. Maybe she'd never been anything but lost. She'd never been the most collected person, never in her life. She'd been one push away from a nervous breakdown before the trip. It was a fucking miracle she'd kept together as well and as long as she had.

And now she was pretty much ready to throw it all away, to just give up and sit and die. She just had to wait until the announcements cleared the hut. In the meantime, she was sitting in the greens, looking at the mansion and wishing it was full of people, wishing she could go insane enough to repopulate this island in her head. A strong grasp on reality really fucking sucked right now, seemed like.

But maybe she was going crazier than she'd thought, because, just so very dimly, she'd heard voices, promising safety and salvation. She'd heard the siren call of a rescue, a return to reality.

She'd gone.

It hadn't been easy. She'd burned the majority of her energy earlier, on the trek here. She'd stumbled and wheezed, a stitch in her side and blisters on her feet and all the time so close to sure that she was being tricked, being led into some slaughter. She didn't care. Not a bit. Death was inevitable. Maybe someone would finally just shoot her, prove that she actually mattered in some way, that she was worth a bullet or something.

It had taken her a couple hours just to get from the greens to the beach. Her legs were cramping badly. Her mouth was dry. She'd had plenty to drink from streams, but that had been some time ago. Maybe if she wasn't shot, if they kept up the usual routine and looked at her funny and maybe talked to her a bit, maybe she'd go back to the mansion and hope it had a well.

Only, it hadn't been a trick or a trap.

There was a boat, and Jennifer was down the beach from it, a ways away from it, staring at it, and it was so incredibly, painfully clear that they were real and saving people and taking them home and also that they were wrapping it up right now, that she'd fucked around too long and was going to get left behind.

She only had the slightest moment of hesitation, of guilt. She was leaving her friends behind, those who were still alive. She didn't know if there were any, if Nick or Maf or—through some miracle—both, had managed to limp away from that fight. In that moment, though, looking at the boat, she didn't give a fuck.

At the end of the day, Jennifer Perez had always been a selfish person, and she knew it well.

She wanted to live. She wanted to keep going. She didn't want to find out what happened after death, didn't want to lie rotting on this island. Yeah, she'd probably die on this boat instead, probably be sunk, probably have her corpse picked clean by the fish, but she just didn't give a fuck. It was better than this. Anything was better than this.

She knew what she was signing up for, of course. Psychology was her favorite subject, so she knew all about PTSD and Survivor's Guilt and Stockholm Syndrome and all those other awful things. She knew she was probably going to regret this moment to at least some degree for a long, long time, if she made it past the next couple days.

She could live with that.

So she ran. She ran as quickly as she could. Fuck aching muscles and burning lungs and throbbing sides. She ran and she called out, though it was more of a wheeze, "H-hey, um, hey w-wait for... um, wait for me."

And she made it. She made it into view, and the boy running things, he gave her an odd look and gestured for her to hurry, and she couldn't speed up but she made it anyways, and they did something to her collar and it fell away and she collapsed into the little raft and was ferried to the boat, and she just sat there and cried again, just like she always did.


And she didn't even notice until the boat pulled away that somehow the icepick had left her hand, that it was still lying there on the beach, glinting in the sun.

Joined: November 16th, 2006, 8:44 pm

May 30th, 2011, 11:34 pm #18

As the flow of students steadily decreased, Nate continued to glance around, making sure there were no unpleasant surprises in store. Not a single killer or player had seen fit to grace his beach. It was a real pity, too. He'd been ready to make his point with bullets, ready to smoke some smug fucker. Lombardi would've been absolutely perfect. Really, though, any sick, sadistic monster would've done. All the better to make the people next season reconsider. All the better to mess up Danya's game once and for all.

The players were nothing more than Danya's goons, his pets and disciples. They were the sort of people who came up with ideas like SOTF. It was fitting that they lost their lives to it. They might be a new batch of killers, but they were no different from those of past versions, of Test Run Eight.

Nate had never forgiven them. Never even come close.

"Get moving." A voice from his radio. "You're gonna have company soon. Looks like a couple patrol boats decided there was something more important to do than saving the boss."


Nate hadn't been expecting that. Their group was about as poorly-armed and prepared for conflict as could be. They could tangle with some half-starved, crazed, murderous high-schoolers with hardly a bullet to spare. A boatful of armed and trained operatives was a different story altogether.

"Pack it in, people," he called. "We're going. Now. Collars are top priority. If they've decided to make a point, they may have some tricks ready there, too."

The last collar came off the last student, and Nate gestured them on, running himself. No time to spare. No time to mess things up. Within minutes, they were on the boat, roaring across the ocean. Pursuit would take time. It would be uncoordinated, he hoped. It would still be their heads if they got caught.

He just hoped the assault team had had a smoother time of things.

Of course, the rescue attempt and its aftermath were not broadcast live. The terrorists still had enough control to cut the feed. When it did air, half a day later, the only shots were from an extreme distance. It was hard to tell what was going on, hard to identify the students moving around. The boat was nearly invisible.

The film cut to another shaky shot, clearly from the deck of a boat, of a pair of distant explosions, though what exactly was blowing up was impossible to discern. Text scrolled over the screen:

"An attempt was made by a military organization to rescue some of the contestants in this season of Survival of the Fittest. The lives of many students were lost as a result of the actions of your governments. Any future attempts will be met with an immediate and total detonation of all collars."

Then, a list of block red letters scrolled over the screen, lasting over a minute:

G125, Jacqueline Myrie: DECEASED
G047, Samantha Ridley: DECEASED
B128, Joss Joiner DECEASED
G085, Alice Blake: DECEASED
B008, Peter McCue: DECEASED
G014, Yelizaveta Volkova: DECEASED
G046, Alexandria Jackson: DECEASED
B056, Raymond Dawson: DECEASED
G048, Kaitlin Anderheim: DECEASED
B140, Cisco Vasquez: DECEASED
B121, Allen Birkman: DECEASED
G105, Isabel Guerra: DECEASED
G122, Mizore Soryu: DECEASED
G106, Sarah Tan: DECEASED
G001, Bridget Connolly: DECEASED
G003, Hui "Sarah" Xu: DECEASED
B042, Brendan Wallace: DECEASED
G010, Anna Chase: DECEASED
G082, Felicia Carmichael: DECEASED
G077, Andrea Raymer: DECEASED
B138, Garrett Hunter: DECEASED
B142, Harun Kemal: DECEASED
B041, Simon Telamon: DECEASED
B105, Jeremy Franco: DECEASED
B132, Jay Holland, DECEASED
G079, Eiko Haraguchi: DECEASED
G018, Acacia Salinger: DECEASED
B073, Michael Moretti: DECEASED
G005, Jennifer Perez: DECEASED