Endless_Helix
Survivor
Joined: October 7th, 2006, 3:12 am

November 30th, 2006, 11:08 pm #16

Harry's hand grasped the butt of the Agrams 2000, and inside himself he felt a large amount of relief. He was probably going to survive this. And she probably wasn't, as much as that thought sickened him.
"I bet most of the more psychotic players from the last one of these things started out just like you."

Why does everything I say, come around to bite me in the ass?


"I kind of wonder what you're going to fucking turn out as..."

"A rapist maybe?"

"A cannibal?"


What am I going to become?

I know that if you survive long you're going to be murderer.

Why do I always have to be so goddamn smart?


He wordlessly checked the gun, his face a mournful mask, the shadows of dusk cloaking his features with a dread that shivvered down his neck. He cocked it, the bolt sliding back with disturbingly final click. This was it. He'd supposed it would be kind of like losing your virginity(He was really going out on a limb there since he still possessed his); One part of your life ended and another began. The only difference was that he hoped that he'd never have to do this again. He glanced over to the girl floundering in the river. She was almost able to raise her face out of the water. His mind wept for her. His body walked to the edge of the river and stepped in. The river lapped around his ankles as he strode steadily towords the prone girl.

She was in the shallows, her chest dripping with water. My first grope-ee; I get to kill her! Wonder how that's going to fuck with me? He couldn't stop his body. He leaned down infront of her face, put the gun to her temple, and looked her in the eye. He saw a tired young girl who wanted to go home to hospital. I wonder what she sees?

"I'm sorry. I don't even know you and I'm killing you. I wasn't a killer till now... Now I've a goddamn spot that'll never come out. I don't think I'll ever go a day without thinking of you. Good bye."

I now have... Meat Puppets! with 70% more calories than my last ones!
Mortimer Jones, Boy 66: Emotionless and Hungry
Joeseph Gai, Boy 67: Yet to debut

Do you know why they're called revolutions?
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Nealosi
Leader
Joined: October 7th, 2006, 3:07 am

December 21st, 2006, 2:18 am #17

Mary-Anne quivered and quaked as the cold and the atrophy surged throughout her body. The powerful adrenaline seeped away as her muscles soaked up the last desperate wisps. Her body ached and her bullet wound seared viciously at her side. She wavered and shivered in the knee-deep water. The pain in her body seemed very distant as her thoughts fluttered up and outward, away from the candle, flickering violently away and into a distant dream, long since forgotten.

Everything seemed to happen moments after it actually happened in reality, and all the movements seemed to be fallowed by a trail of the translucent images before it. He world was so far away from this place. Mary-Anne tried to steady herself; squinting she tried to bring the world she knew, back into focus. The sun was rising. It was morning. She realized it had been morning for a while now. The dark river and the trees had retained the darkness for some time.

A terrible and wretched voice bubbled through Mary-Anne’s thoughts. She had no idea what it was saying, but she wanted to get it out of her head. She held her hands to her ears and curled up, pulling herself away from the cold. Water continued to slowly drip from her once proud and athletic form. Know anyone who would look at the once athletic and beautiful young lady could only draw parallels with a lost, mangy and drowned housecat.

The flicker of great animalistic ferocity died in her eyes as her efforts before seemed worthless now. Surely, her opponent wore some scratches but Mary’s life was fading away, and she realized that now. The game had caught up to her. She felt the barrel of the gun press against her temple as she looked up and stared Harry in the eyes. She could hardly see what she was staring at, but she was still not giving up. She focused all her effort to listen to Harry’s parting words, and churned her jaw in a desperate response. She wasn’t giving in, not even now. She would fight to the end, even on unfamiliar ground in a waning world.

Her lips twisted as she moved her face contorted into a thing of rage.

“Eat shit and die!”

With that the bullet past through her skull and furrowed through her brains. Dark reds, twisted greys and clear fluids mixed together and followed the bullet out the back of her skull. The impact was minimal, but severe. The tiny bullet hole made its entrance and exit without even stooping to visit her cerebellum. The blurring faded world came into focus in a brief flash of lucidity, before cutting to black.

Mary-Anne Robinson G03 Status - Deceased

((Finish the job Helix! Sorry about the unanticipated delay. The body is all yours and I leave the final post to you, sir.))
I eat alone in a desert with skulls for my pets,
I rate the days 1 to 10 with lead cigarettes.


v4

Jeremy Ressler
Catherine Cowie
Haaziq Muhammad Sayf
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Endless_Helix
Survivor
Joined: October 7th, 2006, 3:12 am

December 21st, 2006, 5:25 pm #18

(OOC: Thank you good sir! A happy holiday season to you, sir! May the songs of computer renewal +5 be heard in your home!)

Harry looked at the corpse now lying there in the water. He was weak. He'd pulled the damn trigger. Harry Constantine, self-proclaimed pacifist, had just killed somebody. He just stood there, speachless. It was dark now. As dark as it gets, in fact it was nearly midnight. I thought it was earlier... Harry couldn't do anything; he just put away his gun and knealt down at the dead girl's side. The bloody water swirled around his knees, unidentifiable bits drifted by him. He didn't care; he shouldn't balk at his own handywork.

There was a numbness in his heart right now. He'd just killed someone! He should feel something! He didn't feel a damn thing right now, and he hated hiself for it. It should have given him some form of exultation, sadness, grief... He shouldn't just leave her here, whatever he felt. He picked up the corpse, who'd just yelled "Eat shit and die!" at him a mere 30 seconds ago. Her body was nothing in his arms. After all, Harry'd blown most of her brains OUT OF HER HEAD.

And so, torturing himself all the way he carried her to the sandy shore he'd first met her on. She bled on his clothes, but that didn't matter. They were only clothes. She seemed almost at peace now, whatever that meant. I still don't know who she is... was...GODDAMNIT! Harry rifled first through her pockets, which yielded nothing. She had her backpack and her game bag still left to look through. The backpack yielded a wallet and a school ID. Mary-Anne Robinson was her name; she went to Franklyn. Thats about when he heard the announcement. 12 people dead, 13 with Mary. Apparently, Mary had died after midnight. He checked his watch it said 12:10, which made sense. He'd only killed her a couple of minutes ago.

She survived the first day, which is more than quite a few can say. Harry began to dig. Christians buried their dead, right? There wasn't anything to make a fire with, as far as a pyre went, and something permanent to represent her life appealed deeply to him. He only had his hands to dig with. So Harry worked away the hours digging Mary-Anne Robinson's grave. Harry worked his hands raw and bloody, the blood caking sand into the wounds, but he didn't care. He needed to do this. He finally got a hole about six feet long and three feet deep. It was just wide enough for Mary to lay comfortably in, had she been alive. He went back to her daypack and pulled out everything that was in there. There wasn't anything in there for him, but there was plenty of stuff Mary probably would have wanted. He reverently placed Mary in her final resting place and dropped the daypack in afterwards.

It occured to Harry that he really didn't know much about her aside from her name. He cracked open the wallet to see if she had anything about herself. Two pictures fell out. It looked like she had a lot of siblings. Damn. Looking at the parents was the worst. When he got of the island... He'd have to confront them. For his own sanity. It would probably hurt a lot, but Harry wanted to apologize for his actions, and possibly justify them to himself. It was going to suck getting off the fucking island, and it would suck dying on the fucking blood-soaked land... They had him both ways, didn't they? Screwed if you do, screwed if you don't. Godamnit.

Harry took the pictures and dropped the wallet into the grave. He took all the sand he pulled out with his bare hands and filled the hole again. Goodbye Mary-Anne... I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have done this for me if the tables were turned, but we might have been friends had we ever met. I'd like to think we'd be. Good night and good bye. Namu. Salaam. Peace be to your raging heart. Harry walked over to the river and tried to clean his bloody hands. The last thing he needed was an infection. No matter how much he cleaned them, they still looked raw and digusting. Some salve from the First Aid pack would have to do. Every muscle in his body ached, but still he willed himself on to his triumph and his tragedy. As he crossed the river again, he noticed a club in the weeds. He pulled it out. It was, surprise, surprise, Mary's club. He'd already grabbed her rations and dumped them in his bag. A club would be more useful than a gun i he didn't want to kill people... He should take it. It was fitting.

<<Continued Elsewhere>>
I now have... Meat Puppets! with 70% more calories than my last ones!
Mortimer Jones, Boy 66: Emotionless and Hungry
Joeseph Gai, Boy 67: Yet to debut

Do you know why they're called revolutions?
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