Mr. Danya
Joined: May 26th, 2007, 12:17 am

July 9th, 2008, 6:50 pm #16

It was done. Sharon was dead. Madison felt the edge of the axe colide with the girl's head cleanly and without any trouble. She killed her with one, solid swipe. It rocked Madison's hands something awful, and the impact sent large shivers across her spine. There wasn't any trouble taking the axe out of her head neither, a quick jerk and it was all the way out. It had happened so quickly, did Sharon even feel anything? She didn't scream... nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing special about the death anyway. But to Madison... it was... it was... awful. Simply awful. Dreadful. She wanted to bawl. She wanted to turn the axe around and plant it in her head as easily as she did with Sharon. She wanted... she wanted... she...

It felt good.

No. It felt really good.

She wasn't going to lie to herself. Hitting Sharon over the head, ending her life... temptation crept over her. She took it, she killed Sharon. she felt faked pity and regret... And all the while, deep down inside a huge itch was being scratched. Larger than the whole world itself. She had committed the greatest sin anyone one could ever hope to commit, and she really had no regrets. No regrets at all. She didn't smile though. Only a lunatic would smile after killing someone. She wasn't a lunatic. Not yet at least.

"I... guess..." She thought out loud, picking up the wrench and putting it in her backpocket. "Now that I've gone to the dark side, there's no turning back. No turning back."

She had killed someone. That meant she was a player, a killer, one of the bad guys. That meant that she couldn't turn back and hide in a corner. She made the choice, she had to stick with it. Even if that meant killing more than one person. Besides, even if she did no one would believe her. Hell Sharon was so certain that she was a murderer, and Madison proved her right.

“Come on, Madison. Prove me right.” the corpse told her.

Madison frowned, apologetically. "S-Sorry. I guess you were right."


(Paul Smith continued from The Earth Isn't Humming for You)

Now this was just sad.

Paul Smith (Male Student no. 03) smirked. After witnessing the brutal murder of someone. He wasn't smirking because of the murder itself. He wasn't that bad, but he found the fact that such a fucking weak girl could ever kill someone. He didn't understand these people, not one bit. They would decide to kill people simply to kill someone, and then suddenly wish that they didn't. Paul Smith could read it on the chick's face well. She was probably saying "Wow, this is one mistake I really wished I could take back."

Hey, wasn't that what Lila Macintosh said the morning after she woke up? Paul Smith didn't remember her as Lila, or a sophomore reporter. He just remember that someone said those exact words. Man, it's sad when you can't even keep up with the number of people you've bunked with.

Oh. Look. The girl's crying.

Well. No matter how much iron his heart is made out of, Paul Smith just couldn't let a girl cry like that. Honestly he cared little, but somewhere deep down in his cold heart, a single shred of humanity called out to the girl.


If one could call it humanity. Paul considered it as such. He couldn't even recognize who the girl was, and that he had seen her only days ago. Paul Smith, rock god of Southridge, cared little for people he knew and even less for the ones he had never met. Of course, he cared little for how he cared little about everything. That's was how Smith rolled, and only by divine intervention was he going to change his way of thinking. And since Paul Smith knew there was no god, that was never going to happen.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," he said with an insincere sound to his voice, and a SMG in his right hand, "Honestly, I couldn't give less a shit whether or not you kill someone. But, yknow, you're in the range of my gun. I'm gonna have to ask you to drop all your weapons on the ground. I've got to make sure you aren't trying to pull a fast one on me."

The girl looked up, and gave Paul Smith, super awesome guy, the creepiest stare a person like her could ever give. A look, by the way, didn't faze Paul in the slightest.

"You..." She replied. "You're going to use that gun on me?"

Paul Smith was surprised by the question but kept his prize-winning poker face. "Perhaps. I'm a nice guy, I don't go judging people. You drop all of you stuff on the ground and I'll let you go." The girl didn't reply. She just dropped the axe on the ground, and stood upto her feet. Paul Smith just smiled. "Okay. Is that everything?"

The brunette, her eyes glinting slightly from the dim sunlight fighting through the rainclouds, spoke again. "Are you playing?"

Paul Smith shrugged, not letting his aim move one bit. "I've killed."

"You... you didn't answer the question."

"Hmm? Did I really need to? I don't really need to be the one answering the questions since..." he motioned to the body. "YOU'RE the one who I'm holding up. You're lucky that I even bothered to answer that first question, just because I'm such a nice guy. Actually, you know what, you're lucky I haven't shot you yet."

"G... Get fucked." she spat, nervously.

"Heh." Paul Smith smirked. "Using language like that isn't going to get you anywhere...." he laughed. "Alright, alright. I've killed, I already told you that. And I'm holding up a gun and threatening to kill you." he paused slightly, shaking his head. "Well, I'd certainly assume I'm not a good guy huh? Not exactly a bad guy either. In between the middle, that's me."

The girl hesitated. "...You didn't answer my question."

Paul snapped to attention. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said. You. Didn't. Answer. Me."

Paul Smith looked at her, the whole conversation was starting to irritate him. "Listen. If it'll make you happy, then YES. I am playing."

"Then why don't you shoot me?"

"Uhh..." Paul Smith face changed for the first time in days. "What?"

"...To kill. Isn't that the point of this game? To kill or be killed? I don't see why you're so confused. If you're really playing, you should have no problem killing me. I didn't have any problem whatsoever killing a girl I didn't even know, a girl who was trying to survive, just like me. You can't just say you're playing just because you killed someone, you have to devote yourself to the task. I... I just learned that. I learned this, and only few other kids know this. Few kids understand this. I feel like I'm better than all of them, that they're the weaker ones now. You should feel this way too, right?"

She squinted her eyes. "So? What's the matter? If you're going to shoot me now, then do it."

Paul Smith shook slightly, keeping as straight as a face as he could keep. "I can't. That isn't my style, killing people. I'm laid back, I-"

The girl interrupted. "Then if you're not going to use it, then give it to somebody who can!"


A bright light blinded Paul just as he released the trigger on the gun, the recoil sending the gun sprawling backward out of reach. Paul Smith fought desperately for his balance and regained his composure long enough to see a figure coming towards him at full speed. Like a wild tiger, ready to strike it's prey. Like a killer who had done this dirty, dirty thing so many times before.

The sad thing is, as Paul Smith's life flashed before his eyes... in the mere second that he could have had to defend himself, he spent it thinking about... Paul Smith. The rock legend of Southridge suddenly realized that he had slim to few memories. Everything just seemed... so bland to him. So stale, like it was all too... normal? The rock star life being normal? That's what it felt. The year 2007... yeah. That was his favorite year of all. When he met Montezzo... man, he was like a father to him. And Darnell. That was a great guy. Paul actually wanted the two of them to face off one more time, but that certainly wasn't going to happen. Paul Smith didn't care about life. No matter how he tried, he only just stood off to the side and let things happen on their own. He also didn't care whether or no his life was worth it, but discovering that you were a huge waste of air and space was too big to push off.

He could fight, he could jump out of the way but at the end of the day what mattered. He didn't care when he died, it was going to happen. Life was filled with death, he understood that. Besides... it felt like it was his time to go.

In fact, he cared so little about death that the first thought on his mind was "Wait, is that a knife at the end of that wrench?"


Two people.

Madison had killed two people.

When Madison stabbed Paul Smith, he only smiled. It was a strange way to go, not with a loud scream or a grunt but with a laugh and a large smirk. Paul Smith was a out there kind of person, so much so that he would take his own murder gracefully. Madison didn't know Paul Smith personally, so how would she know this? Who could blame her for thinking that Paul would try to escape? Just as Paul collapsed on the ground, Madison didn't just leave the whole thing there. No. One stab wound was not going to kill a man. That's why she kept stabbing him. Over and over again, bloodthirsty, mad, nearly insane. Madison didn't care. Right then, she didn't care. Every stab, every plung, it energized her.

Paul Smith was dead, but unlike most he took it in stride. He didn't bother to get out of it. That was just who he was.

When Madison was finished, she felt amazing. She felt... she felt... so amazing. So great. She used to question herself, deny her, get her to do all the things everyone else wants her to do. No more. Killing that bastard, it was one of the most thrilling things she had ever felt. It was perfect, and the warm butterflies mixed in the place where she should be feeling guilt instead of pride made her giggle, but only a soft giggle. A loud giggle and she would have to start questioning her sanity. She wasn't insane, as far as she could tell.

That was when she saw it. The gun that Paul had. In the marsh. She picked it up, held it in her hands. It was feeding her, bathing her, singing her sweet nothings. In real, everyday life it wouldn't have meant anything but here, when her life was in stake, it meant everything in the world. She was weak without it, she needed it. It gave her inner strength. And the knife, that filled her with joy too. With the knife-wrench, the axe, the laser dazzler, she felt unstoppable. She felt like a god, a man made god. That was the best part about it. She felt like nothing could ever stop her.

Winning wasn't going to be easy... but nothing in life was easy. This was just another road bump.


(Madison Conner continued in Battle of Epic Proportions)