Joined: October 9th, 2006, 12:16 am

February 2nd, 2007, 4:23 am #16

((continued from Checking In))

'1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...'

Bryan counted the steps up the stairwell as he climbed, something his ADD would often trigger ascending them at school. It took his mind off of the growing dread that this Walter asshole might have already snuffed the leader of the Fists, but not enough that his grip on the shotgun handle loosened any.

'...8, 9, way to just fucking leave him there with that psycho, Mari...'

He knew Seth well enough to know that the guy could take care of himself in an ordinary situation. That was a given. But according to Danya, this guy Walter was quite the contender. Issued a rock for a weapon and still made quick work of that one kid. Danya was licking his ass like it had a chocolate center.

'...dammit, lost count.'

It bore little consequence anyway, seeing as he was at the top of the staircase in front of the 2nd floor entrance. He had no clue what to expect; Mari just said upstairs. He pulled the door open and shot out full tilt into the hallway, confident in his direction as it matched that of the previous floor. Sure enough, Seth and Walt were dead ahead, looking pretty dead tired. They'd had themselves a little brawl from the looks of things. Seth was fairly bloodied, as was his highly-praised adversary, but he was still alive and that was good enough. No problem. No fuckin' problem at all.

Bryan didn't feel as pumped as he thought he should have, but then again he was packing the undisputed mediator, the SPAS-12. It would make short work of Smith, guaranteed. Still, in the back of his mind he wouldn't have minded going toe-to-toe with the acclaimed SOTF prodigy, no weapons, just a good old-fashioned fistfight. It looked like Mattlock had beaten him to the punch though. Oh yes, pun fully intended.

Hefting the shotgun and aiming in Walter's direction, Bryan interrupted the stand-off with a clear, sharp exclamation of the word "hey." True, he hadn't had a good fight since he'd arrived on the island, but it was still fun playing the role of the shotgun man; you got to go around shooting stuff and yelling at people.

v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard

Joined: October 11th, 2006, 3:08 pm

February 3rd, 2007, 6:52 am #17

((Continuada dal Pale Shelter))
It had barely been 2 days since Zachary "Zed" Foreman nearly lost what was most valuable to him to some crazy blonde before managing to scrounge a weapon from a guy who looked like Squall Leonhart. He had spent much of the remainder of that time trying to recover from what would have been the single most degrading wound ever inflicted in a video game - and the Caballero porn games for the Atari 2600 counted. It wasn't all bad though, he'd managed to find (the virtual representations of) his friends and together they hid out in the hotel. It was that sort of support that restored some of his health points.

Right now, Zed Foreman felt like Rocky Balboa going up those hotel stairs to rescue his buddy from what was probably a man with a shotgun or a melee weapon that could inflict severe blunt force. He wasn't leaping the steps two at a time of course, just jogging up each step hoping that Nich would be behind a door. He had his claw held up and ready just in case someone else was, though.

"C'mon, Andy! Almost there..." he forced through his heavy breathing. It wasn't as loud as a battle cry, but his buddy/possible sidekick Andrew Swainson could have heard it from several floors in either direction.

The former CS World Runner-Up was panting for breath as he stopped and leaned on the doorway to the hall a couple floors up from where they'd started, as getting up those stairs to where he figured Nich would've gone had taken its toll on his injured body. Exhaustion was definitely catching up to his conscience. Doing this would have certainly been a much less demanding task for the otherwise-healthy Andrew whom he figured was following him. Still, this was a quest, and there wasn't any restarting unless one failed. The only thing that kept him going was the promise of what would've happened if he completed it.

"Stay low, buddy...I'll go first."

Zed reached for the door handle with his injured hand, claw ready in the other. There was no time to gulp, no time to be scared. There didn't seem to be a reason to...after all this was just a game. Game physics hopefully had not advanced to the point where one could nail another enemy through the door. But he could still feel the cold metal of the handle as he gave it a slow the click of its unlatching.

((Sorry it ain't much. 6-day college weeks can do that to a man. I give Cyco permission to handle body physics until Zed is firmly in Andrew's arms, then I'll do the death.))

The Burned Handler
Mr. Danya
Joined: September 22nd, 2006, 2:19 am

February 4th, 2007, 8:34 am #18

OOC: This will be very short, and I apologise for that, but I need to get Walter and Seth the fuck out of the hotel before they explode. I do not have fucking time for a huge post. Do not bitch at me about it.

Viewers at home had a tense air among them looking at the staredown between Seth and Walter after Seth had made his comment. The two had provided their audience with an exciting fight, and there was a general feeling of suspense about what would happen next. Summoning up some more strength, Walter stepped forward as if to continue their fight when he heard the door beside them opening and a familiar voice saying, "hey". Seth also recognised this voice, as the two looked over to the speaker at the same time. Seth grinned, and Walter grimaced.

"Hey Calvert. Trust you're doin' better than me right now?"

Seth's saying this only confirmed what was already known, the newcomer was Bloody Fists' member Bryan Calvert. Pointing a shotgun at Walter Smith. His eyes on the shotgun, Walter notably started to back away, his arms at his sides. Switching his focus to glare at Walter, Seth pulled out his own gun as the boy reached the two bags near the door to the room they had fought in, quickly taking aim.

"This motherfucker raped Mariavel, Bryan, hence that little scrap you saw."

This won't end well. I have to get out of here.

Just as Walter Smith thought this, the second announcement started. Predictably, the hotel was named a danger zone because there were people there. Danya seemed determined to make it impossible to stay anywhere for more than a few moments. Nevertheless, it was now urgent that he get out. At that very moment, another door opened, and another newcomer (this one neither Seth nor Walter recognised) appeared. Seeing his chance, Walter quickly bent down, grabbed the bag nearer to the wall (his) and sprinted towards the door to the stairwell, past the newcomer and Bryan before anyone could fire, and made a point of throwing his arm out in a hard shove at the newcomer that would hopefully end up with Bryan having the teenager sent flying at him. Realizing he hadn't been shot, the psychopath let his adrenaline and will to survive take over his bodily functions as he ran down the stairs as fast as his battered body would let him, eventually clearing the stairwell and running through the lobby out the door. Fortunately, it seemed Danya was being more lenient this time than in the last game towards the amount of time a contestant had to get out of a danger zone, so his collar had not started to beep when he reached the designated distance necessary and ran in a familiar direction.

Seth had not had time to fire off the shot he wanted to before Walter escaped, throwing the new kid at Bryan (or at least trying to) before disappearing down the stairwell, and Seth knew the boy had the right idea even if he was sick in the head.

"We have to get out of here, Bryan," Seth said, running over to the bag he dropped before going into the room to save Mariavel and picking it up, headed towards the stairwell and ignoring the result of the newcomer's encounter with Bryan and his shotgun. He would think about such things when his neck wasn't in imminent danger of exploding.

"Meet me at the school, okay?" after this quick instruction to his fellow gang member, as even now Seth was still the leader, he ran down the stairs, taking the same route as Walter but slightly behind. He noticed Mariavel's note written in the dead boy's blood (named Nich according to the announcement), and mentally stored it as he saw Walter walk out the door and did the same, deciding not to attack Walter as they both branched off in their escape from the danger zone.

((Walter continued in Revenge is a Dish Better Served Cold))
MurderWeasel getting impatient wrote:Hiya, jerk! Please don't post until edits have been completed, as doing so causes confusion/messes up the queue.
wrote:18:48 Ruggawork I have faith in you!
18:48 Ruggawork and your ass!
wrote:16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Iktor?
16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Toben.
16:35 Kilmarnock hard to tell until they make out with me.
16:35 *** mib_6brm7d is now known as Irene
[+] Spoiler
wrote:11:55 Zarina turns out I work best with people when most of the people are dead
wrote:18:30 Slam Well we don't really do showers in the UK
wrote:05:57 *** Christian joined #sotf
05:58 shotgunkid oh crap
wrote:05:54 frogue i can be a time consuming process!
wrote:16:47 Irene "let it sit for half an hour, it's better when it's not so cold" he said.
16:47 Irene well...
16:48 Irene it exploaded.
16:48 Irene all over my hands.
Gianni no wrote:15:54 Aloha Leg cramps happened suddenly and i can't move X_X
15:55 Gianni wb :3
wrote:21:20 *** Persy joined #sotf
21:21 Gianni Hey Persy!
21:21 Namira my mutant alchemist
wrote:21:31 Pancapples [The weather] Was beautiful today.
21:33 Solitair oh no
wrote:18:48 Ruggawork Who doesn't want to rape Bro
wrote:17:30 Ohm Sweet, I'm using then
wrote:14:18 Wes 'm so hungry ;c
14:18 Wes :c8
14:18 Wes...
14:18 Wes fuck it
14:18 mib_7zyd33 That's not what you're supposed to do to food.
14:19 Imehal Nah, that's kinda par for the course around here.
14:19--- Ohm is away (Ew)
wrote:14:50Pancapples I kinda miss the Crusades now.
Bad Ohm! wrote:18:51*** RC quit (Quit: ajax IRC Client)
18:51 Ohmfg Yay!
Laur doesn't like people being in chat wrote:18:33 Laurels Agh, people are here
18:33*** Laurels quit (Quit: ajax IRC Client)
Germany vs. Germany! wrote:18:47 RC I should send my list of ideas to SOTF_Help once I get rid of the dumb ones on the list
18:48 Bikriki so you want to send them an empty list?
wrote:19:40 uyugin taking bets on who will be the big douche in v6
19:40 Kilmarnock Actually I'm going with Laur.
wrote:14:01 Kilmarnock Girl!Slam was cute I guess.
wrote:11:29 Naft Dude uncool
11:29 Naft I was talking about conceptual penises and you made the penises real
wrote:13:59 Solitair I love seeing people get mentally broken

Joined: October 9th, 2006, 12:16 am

February 4th, 2007, 10:21 am #19

Bryan felt well in control of the situation as he approached the pair, his sights trained on Seth's attacker. Walter Smith. The Walter Smith. Looked kinda familiar.

Seth made a comment about Bryan's progress in the game so far, and he grunted in response, pleasantly surprised that the Fists' leader had a gun as he drew the Walther pistol. Not that he needed any backup in the current situation, but it was good to see that Seth would be a valuable asset to the team. If there was a team.

"This motherfucker raped Mariavel, Bryan, hence that little scrap you saw." Mattlock said it like he needed to explain his actions. There was no time for questions; the sooner they wasted this prick, the better. Bryan was about to respond, but he found himself interrupted by those fucking announcements.

...oh shit, was it morning already?

Mattlock didn't make a move, so Bryan kept his sights on Smith and listened silently to the announcement for a little. He was beginning to get really fed up with Danya. It seemed like the guy went on and on just to hear his own voice. Faggot. The previous days deaths were covered (the mallrat included; Jordan Mc-something), and just when it seemed like he'd shut the hell up...

((Continued from Pale Shelter))

Andrew's heart nearly stopped. 'We're too late...' The announcement made it quite clear that he and Zed had failed miserably. The latter was already heading through the door the moment Finlayson's name was announced, but Andrew held back in mortified shock as he realized that his best friend and chief benefactor was now dead.


"The forest, the hospital, and the hotel." Dangerzones. Fuck. Those things were a pain in the ass. Bryan was about to suggest killing the motherfucker and hauling ass, but he was interrupted again, this time by the unexpected arrival of a fourth party.

The next bit happened really fast, as intense situations tend to do. The sick fuck sprang up and grabbed the newcomer, lobbing him at Bryan while he darted past him and Mattlock. The former fired a shot out of reflex, seeing as Walter was pulling something, but it didn't meet its intended target. The roar of the SPAS-12 covered any cry of pain the visitor might have been making, and Bryan could only wonder what the fuck was going on as the nearly slain boy, a fresh shotgun wound adorned on his chest, teetered backwards into the doorway from whence he came.


Zed was hit. Andrew moved as quickly as he could to catch his friend before he fell full-tilt down the staircase, barely able to overcome his frozen state. He was successful, but from the look of things it wasn't going to make a difference.

It would be a little more than taxing to describe the mental anguish and confusion thrashing around in Andrew's brain as he held one dying friend after just being told another had been killed; only about a second-and-a-half had passed between the two events. Swainson shook his head no, but the grim spectre of death nodded yes as Zed's blood made its way down his sides and warmed Andrew's fingers.


Seth dissappeared after Walter, making sure to outline their rendezvous point before he bolted. Bryan was still confused as to who the fuck he'd just shot. That fucker came out of fuckin' nowhere. Talk about being in the wrong place, at the wrong fuckin' time. Speaking of which, he figured he would do well to take his leave as Smith and Mattlock had done. Sticking his foot in the stairwell door as the pneumatic cushion eased it shut, Bryan threw it open with his free hand and plowed down the stairs as fast as he could. No way was he going to let his neck explode. So passionate about which, that he all but missed the small form of Andrew Swainson and the near corpse of Zed Foreman as he descended the staircase.

'The school.'

((Bryan continued in Walking to School))


Andrew's nightmare climaxed as the shotgun-wielding skinhead barrelled past, failing to see the two in his mindless fury. He wanted to scream bloody murder, but he couldn't muster up the air in his lungs to do so he was so terrified. The shotgun man had followed him! Right to the hotel! Killed Nich, killed Zed, killed his only two friends on the fucking island, that sonofabitch! Why? What the fuck was he after him for? Was he taking some sort of sick pleasure in this chase? Sweet fucking Jesus!

Andrew's head spun. None of his cognative gears were working at the moment. He needed to get out so he could think. Get out of danger. Get away from the skinhead. He lay Zed's head down on the cold floor unwillingly, disgusted at what he was being forced to do.

"Zed, I'm sorry," he snivelled, tears finally surfacing through the timult of shock encompassing his entire being. Fumbling, he grasped his fallen comrades daypack, along with his own (Nich's, to be fair), and snatched up the Spanish tickler from where it'd fallen. He knelt over Foreman for a second and squinted his eyes shut as he hurriedly embraced him to say goodbye. He wanted to try to get Zed out of there, he really did, but his fear of being detonated combined with his confidence his friend was already dead pulled him to his feet and launched him down the stairs as fast as he could go. He had no idea which direction to go save for away from the building.

He'd never been so afraid or alone in his life.

((Continued in: Sole Survivor.))

v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard

Joined: October 11th, 2006, 3:08 pm

February 4th, 2007, 11:19 am #20

((THERE WE GO. D: ))

It was the single worst blunder anybody could make in a First Person game, rushing to a door with the full realization that there was someone to pawn you on the other side. It was a blunder he'd studiously learned to avoid and taught his CS teammates to do on their way up to Cyber World Cup glory. And in only the span of a few minutes, Zachary Foreman had made that blunder and paid so dearly for it. The biggest tragedy was, of course, that he didn't realize it as somebody grabbed him and flung him in the path of the one with the actual shotgun.

The resulting blast had hit him dead on, tearing a good portion of he-didn't-know-what from he-definitely-didn't-wanna-know-where. But he didn't see his vision flash a bright red, no indicators for his health, nothing to tell him of his impending doom. He felt a surge of pain as every wound was reopened, but he didn't have the strength to scream in pain for more than a split second. The one thing he could distinguish above the pain was his falling into the arms of his "best friend." And that was a severely sharp contrast - the helicopter's water on a mansion that had already been burned to the ground as it was caught in a forest fire.

He could sense himself falling back a bit more as Andrew struggled to keep up the weight...and by then he didn't even have the strength to move his limbs. His Spanish Tickler - the one Squall Leonhart gave him - tumbled out of his grasp, free from a man who'd never used it. But it was free. And soon he'd be too. Free for another round of this little game at least...

Still, he found that he'd still have to get one line of chat out to his buddy before he was automatically logged onto the "Dead" channel. Zed looked up into Andrew's eyes...or at least where they would be according to his blurring vision.

I saw your eyes,
And you touched my mind...
Although it took a while,
I was falling in love...

"" were the last words gutturally murmured out of Zed's mouth as Andrew embraced him. He still didn't quite understand what happened so fast, yet it felt so real. But this embrace he fully understood...even if he wasn't gaining any health points from it he still felt like it was the highest-level healing magic in the land. He didn't seem to mind that he felt like the NPC to Andrew's main protagonist...the Aeris to Andrew's Cloud...or worse, the Louise Cassidy-Williams to Andrew's Vic Vance.

((Check out my soon-to-be-completed guide to Vice City Stories on GameFAQs, under the alias Forelli_Boy. Now back to our regularly scheduled GRUESOME YAOI-BAITING DEATH...))

All Zachary Foreman, alias Zed and Z-Boy, knew as his thoughts dissipated...was that for once, from the strictly professional coordination with his RL CS teammates and the pain overtaking pleasure that he'd suffered trying to fit well as the pain from that filthy whore that had effectively prevented him from ever finding a biological he lay in his friend's embrace.

...was that it felt good. love...

And then he felt no more. It was already no more seconds before Andrew had let go to release him into the darkness...but it was a feeling he thought as he also assumed he'd be returning to "reality" or at least a respawn, or even a reload from the last savepoint, after that craptastic fairy music, a fade to white and maybe the Game Over prompt.

I saw your eyes,
And you made me smile...
For a little while...
I was falling in love...

He'd never know that he'd never get that chance.

Falling in love...

B28 - Foreman, Z ...


((Said image can be found on my DA scraps archive HEER. 8D The song? "Space Age Love Song" by Flock of Seagulls.

That's about it. :3

EDIT: Oh, and watch 9:57-10:05 of THIS LITTLE YOUTUBE DITTY to ruin the experience you had while reading this.))