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Small Comforts; Open
Topic Started: Jan 26 2011, 04:55 AM (2,633 Views)
GeneralT
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Pities the fool
[ * ]
((Continue from Claustrophobe))

Stacking the wooden sticks in a series of pyramids above each other, William fetched out the almost spent bottle of medical alcohol hidden behind a crumbled shelf. It had been awhile since they've left the Officers' Quarters, and while he wasn't feeling up for food, he knew they'd need the energy soon.

Especially after what happened.

William squashed down the surfacing thought, and instead poured a small amount of alcohol onto the stick pyramid. The surrounding ground had been cleared out for the fire-pit, and while they haven't got the required tools to dig the pit part, a bunch of stone blocks had mostly filled that particular role of preventing the fire from escaping. It'll do.

Flicking the lighter a few times, the red-head managed to generate a few sparks of flame from the device left on an empty table. It had been covered in a thick layer of dust, and the fuel had almost spent, but that doesn't matter, he only needed a spark to start the fire anyway. Satisfied that it would work for his purpose, William lowered the lighter against the sticks and thumbed the button. Flame soar out, and within moments a steadily burning pit was going within the Field Hospital.

They had more than enough sticks gathered for fuel, it'll hold.

"Right, we'll need to eat." He said plainly, pulling out a bottle of water from Damon's leftover pack. Rising his hands a bit, he wiped the remaining blood flakes onto the tablecloth nearby, and grabbed his pack of rations. They had, together, four packs between three people. If they could handle the food carefully, they should be able to last up to three days with what they currently owned. Maybe a bit less, but William weren't too sure if they'll last that long anyway. They were, after all, still in The Program, and not on some camping trip.

Opening the pack, he poured some water into it, and rolled the opened tip close. Don't look, and you won't get disgusted of what's inside, that was what the cadet officers had told him, and William had found the advice sound. At least, the pork would still taste slightly like pork if he didn't realise it's all just a big blob of jelly-like stuff. That one time he looked had been less than appetising.

Two chairs and an iron tube later, a ration pack was speared neatly against the gentle flame, slowly being cooked. Making sure the doors were closed and secured, William motioned for the other two to do the same. "Come on, it'll taste alright as long as you don't look at it." He said with a rather obviously faked tone of cheeriness, a small smile forcing its way onto his face.

He made absolutely no mention of what they just faced some time ago.
The Program:
M23 - William Chandler
Status: Alive | Weapons: TEC-9 | Killcount: 0 | Current location: Field Hospital - Small Comforts
Threads involved: [o--o--o-

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Little Boy
Regular
[ *  *  * ]
((Brett Torres continues from Crayola Kids

Brett Torres felt odd.

He'd had a strange feeling in his stomach soon after leaving the Helipad, and it just increased as time went on. It felt as if he had a hole in his gut, cold air blowing straight through him. He didn't know what it was. It wasn't exactly pain. It was something more. Whatever it was, he wanted it to go away.

He'd been walking for awhile, occasionally stopping to take a break, or check a building or two. Brett had seen few people since the Helipad, but that didn't mean he'd seen no one. Just a few hours before he'd glimpsed a figure scurrying towards the back entrance of what looked to be a large grey office building, so drab and bland he nearly puked from the sight of it. It was only for a second and he couldn't make out who it was, but it was obvious they hadn't seen him, lurking behind a nearby, what? Shed? Garage. The point being not for the first time in the game, Brett had the drop on someone.

It was a good feeling. He felt superior, like an A-List celebrity prancing around an African village, patting heads and proclaiming how the sun was so god damn hot today. Then again, Brett had a gun. Guns seemed to have that positive, feel good effect to them, especially when on hand.

When I get out of here, I'll probably sleep with a gun. Or fifty. Fuckin' orgy of guns, for every situation. Assassinations, burglary, house cats and nosy neighbors...

After a few minutes of contemplation, Brett shouldered his pack and headed off. He didn't feel like crawling through an office building, hunting down some kid running for their life. He'd watched Die Hard one too many times to know the downside. But it was more then that, deep down beneath his jokes.

Brett had never killed someone before.

He'd thought about it, for sure. With alarming frequency. He'd thought about blasting his English teacher with a glock for failing him on that prepared speech he'd worked so hard on. He'd been cockblocked once by one of his friends. If anyone deserved a good pistol whipping, it was then. And of course he'd watched the Program, live on his friends big screen. He'd watched a crying girl standing over her former friend, tears in her eyes as she leveled the gun, aiming for his head. He'd called her a pussy when she dropped it. He'd laughed his guts out when the friend picked up the gun and shot the girl in the throat.

But that was remote. That wasn't reality. Those kids, it didn't matter what happened to them. It mattered what happened to Brett. It mattered what people thought about him... Was that what was stopping him? Other people? Or was it just him?

If I ever see Alex again, I'm going to shoot him in the fucking face. No hesitation, no remorse. That'll settle it.

As odd as it felt, he took comfort in that.

----

The Field Hospital seemed barren, but Brett wasn't fooled. He kept his gun out, up front and ready. A hospital was one of the first places he'd go in The Program, that was, if he was a panicking little faggot. No, Brett wasn't there to hide or find a way out. He was there to make a mess.

He didn't take the front doors. Too easy, too open. Instead he looped around back, checking the windows for movement. Although he didn't see anyone through the dirt stained glass there was a definite noise from inside. At least one.

I can spare a bullet or two.

Entering the back of the building as silent as he could, Brett began to make his way to the front, checking corners, holding his breath. It felt like his video games, and it was a damn good feeling. He wasn't thinking anymore, and that was good. Thoughts could be put off for awhile, his anger, his reluctance... No, Brett had all the time in the world.

I'm going to win this after all, so...

Edited by Little Boy, Mar 14 2011, 08:33 PM.
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17:24CluevaraYaaay drugs.

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Lord_Shadow
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Eldritch Consumer, Requiem Agent
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Jennifer Steinman continued from Bat Country))

Like hell Jen was going to stick around outside. So she did the sensible thing: run. She ran from outside the Mess Hall to the nearest building. And that was the Field Hospital. Oh hey, like a moron she was visiting the exact places that she had condemned earlier as being the stupidest places to go.

Honestly though, it wasn't her fault. Dom and Megan, two useless people that they were, forced her to go it alone. No... she wanted to go alone. Yeah. She didn't need them. She didn't need anyone. She could make it on her own. That would show everyone that she had what it took to both talk and walk.

Not like it really mattered though. Eventually she'd meet someone with a gun. And her not-quite-but-still-compared-to-a-gun shitty knife there was no way she'd make it out alive. She frowned. That kind of thinking was defeatist. And Jennifer goddamn Steinman was NOT defeatist.

She was a manipulator. A worker behind the scenes, using every idiot in her path to further her own goals. Only, so far the idiots ready to be used were nowhere to be found. That was inconvenient. Not the end of the world, but still incredibly inconvenient.


She arrived at the entrance to the Field Hospital. She heard faint voices inside. As soon as she had, she slowed her pace and tried to keep quiet, just in case some trigger-happy bastard decided to shoot through what were probably not so protective walls.

The doors were closed, and locked. That was to be expected. Whoever got there first was probably using it as some sort of shelter. Maybe the back would be open. But that wasn't likely. And it wasn't like Jennifer to be sneaking around and using the back door. Hell no, she came in through the front door. Hell, people opened the door for her.

Well, only the really easy flash-em-a-smile-and-they-do-what-you-want types. But still, it was the principle of the thing. So, because she really wasn't going to change her standards now, and because she was kind of in a bad mood after being ditched... she knocked on the front doors.

If she got shot, well fuck the bastard who shot her, she'd see them in hell. If not though, then maybe she might find someone useful after all. She was taking another gamble like this. Whatever, not like her odds would improve no matter she did. For good measure, she stuck her knife back in the bag. She spoke, hoping that acting friendly would make whoever was inside hesitant to attack. "Hello? Is anyone there? Please open the door. There's no one out here but me. I completely harmless, really."

Time to see just what kind of idiots she'd be coming across now. Her stomach growled a bit. Hey, maybe they'd have food. Maybe. Or that might just be wishful thinking.
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There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!

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OverlordMikey
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[ * ]
[[Claire continued from Claustrophobe ]]

William got to work as Claire looked around She knew they had to prepare themselves.
She’d seen this before - a few times really. People dying and now they are making a fire… Desperetly trying to pretend everything was okay.
It’s all okay…
Had she said that before? Lied to herself so she could lie to someone else. She hated lying so much she couldn’t see herself doing that, although she was certain there was a time or two when it slipped out.

They checked the doors to make they where shut and William prepared the food. She wished she hadn’t looked, it was repulsive. She wanted to go home - her dad was a bit of a bland cook, but bland is better than deadly.

"Come on, it'll taste alright as long as you don't look at it."

“Really, because my money is on it killing us before it even gets near our mouths.” Claire said with a shrug. “Still if your sure I’ll still have a tongue after this I guess I’ll risk it.” Claire flashed the others a strange smile. It wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t sad. The kind of smile you give your friends when your on a camping trip and they’re having a great time well all the mosquitoes are attacking you, but you’re still enjoying their company.

Claire heard knocking. Who the hell would be stupid enough to knock on the door?
“You did all that work to set up the fire pit I’ll check that out.” Claire got up and walked over to the door. She pulled out her gun just in case.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Please open the door. There's no one out here but me. I completely harmless, really."

Claire rolled her eyes. She could tell by the girl's familiar voice she was about as trustworthy as - Damon actually. Claire had a twinge of guilt as she thought about Damon. Sorry about that man.

“This is Claire Heartland - you’ve got six seconds to tell me who you are…“ She hesitated for a second, she didn’t want to be responsible for this girls death, but she remember what happened before. “and why I should open this door for you.”
In Remembrance:
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Sideliner
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God gave this land to me.
[ *  * ]
(Priscilla continued from Sanctuary)

Priscilla stepped in with her neck twisted to the right and her pupils shifted to the very edges of her sockets. Her head turned left, right, downwards toward the grass. Her heart was once again beating abnormally, though its current state would become perfectly ordinary during her stay on the island. She'd been spending the last few moments watching, contemplating, bargaining for her life to any that would listen. Not since that waterlogged day in the brook was she so fearful. Not since the chain of events that led to her bandaged and bruised had she been so desperate to go back home and dance and talk and make merry.

Her head ceased its spastic revolutions as she caught sight of a structure in the distance.
Go to it
Keep walking
It'll give you shelter
There may be killers hiding there

Another period of turmoil. Another state of fickleness. In the end, she decided to take her chances and walked toward the structure, albeit with a crouch, so as not to alert any of the inhabitants. With her knees near the floor, she looked. Another girl was there. Another girl was seeking shelter. Maybe, maybe she could...

No, no, that wasn't right. Her parents were likely watching. Her sister was likely watching. Any people who would be in the building would likely be listening.

So which options did that leave?

With a gulp, Priscilla raised her hand and waved. "Hello," she mumbled, doubts still lurking within her. "M-my name is Priscilla."
The Program
F25 - Priscilla Sawyer - Bike lock

The Program V2
M13 - Lenny Osborne - Pool cue
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Hollyquin
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Why don't you just give up and die...?
[ *  * ]
[[Durriken Lovel continued from Claustrophobe]]

Durriken was tired. He was hungry. He felt sick, nauseous still, and he really wasn't sure if that feeling was ever going to disappear completely. The heavy feeling in his hand, the heavy feeling that was a destructive, explosive force, that was metallic death, that feeling grew worse and weightier with every step. He knew what he had to do, he knew this was fate and that this was how things were meant to be, but that did not mean he had to like it. It was an honest effort, trudging from the officer's quarters to the field hospital- it wasn't all that far, but it might as well have been an eternity judging from how hard he hit the floor when they finally arrived at their destination. Bile swam in his throat.

I...didn't think this was gonna be this hard.

"Right, we'll need to eat," he heard William say. The boy had started a fire, and was apparently cooking whatever rations they'd been given. Durriken hadn't thought to check earlier, and though he had been hungry pre-...pre-what-happened-in-the-officer's-quarters, he certainly wasn't now. He stared into the fire, his eyes reflecting the orange light, hugging his legs close. Give me a sign. Give me something. Is this really what I'm supposed to be doing? I don't...I don't want to do this. I don't want to be here. Please...

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK

Durriken jumped at the sudden rapping sound, the sound of a fist hitting a door three times in quick succession. Someone knocking on the door- that seemed so...odd. So out of place in this situation. He didn't like it, his instincts were jumpy, his intuition telling him that this was not good. Not an immediate sort of not good, more of a long-term-bad-decision not good. So when he heard Claire's “This is Claire Heartland - you’ve got six seconds to tell me who you are…and why I should open this door for you.” he began his reply,

"...Er, Claire, I wouldn't..."
SOTF: The Program
[SOTF: TV] ALIVE:
[x] Terrilynn "Lynn" Boden [GRY2] // Bulletproof Vest // Detroit Central High School // "Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to? Yeah...yeah, that's what I thought." // CL: The Ski Resort :: Whatcha Gonna Do
[x] Leopold Sutherland [W04] // Silver Dragon Academy // Dildo (discarded) // "Oh, this? Yes, it's vintage, my grandfather wore it in the seventies...I'm sure you've heard of him." -----> Adopted by Fioriboy
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GeneralT
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Pities the fool
[ * ]
His hand flying for the handle of his gun, William wasn't sure if he had bumped into anything when he whipped his body towards the front entrance, towards whoever that was on the other side of it. Then he winced, and forced himself to calm down. He was getting too jumpy for anyone's well being, when he was suppose to be in a leadership position.

Well, maybe. He still wasn't too sure being the guy up front, the one who made the decisions. But he'll try anyway, since Claire and Duncan had decided to trust in him.

William gave his hand, and the gun held within his grasp, a morose look. He was getting too used to having a weapon now, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that particular detail. On one hand, it meant he most likely won't fumble when the inevitable encounter with active players happened, and so could protect his peers better. On the other hand, it meant he too was settling into the mindset that violence would be the only outcome, which would lead him down a dangerous path.

A path where he could not answer the question of what he would do, if all three of them had miraculously survived till the end. It was...horrifying, knowing that it was possible for him to become a person he abhorred, a person he did not -would not- recognise as himself. He really wished that this was just part of the effects of adrenaline, that his almost instinctual action to grab a weapon was just a temporary reflex induced by what happened back at the Officers' Quarters.

But deep down, he knew what his answer may be, if the time comes. And he was terrified by it, his guilt slowly gnawing him away.

William clenched his gun tighter, pushing the dark thoughts away. He'll...he'll deal with the future when it happens, and focus his attention on the present, the now. It's his responsibility to shield the others from harm, and so he'll do that first, and worry about everything else later.

He readied his weapon and trained it on the entrance, where Claire was attempting to communicate with the person on the opposite side. He was too slow, too caught up in his thoughts to stop Claire from acting on her own, so he'll just have to watch her back.

"Duncan," he turned his gaze slightly to the other boy, and gave his companion what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The boy didn't looked too well, and William had a distinct feeling that he knew what was bothering him. He had hoped that food would cheer Duncan up, but it seemed things didn't turned out how he wished it would be. "Don't worry, I'll watch after Claire, so she'll be safe. I promise."

A grimace flashed through, but it disappeared just as quickly. What he said next would burden Duncan even more, but it must be done if they were to survive together. He exchanged a quick breath, and steeled himself. "What I need you to do though, was to watch our backs. With the commotion up front, it would be a perfect time for an ambush. I'll be preoccupied up front, so it's up to you to keep the back clear.

"I know it'll be hard, but remember, you're only protecting others, not trying to harm another person." William gave the front a quick glance, as another voice penetrated through the thin walls. That meant that either the first person was actively lying, or someone else had stumbled through. He grimaced for real this time, and gave Duncan another glance. "Just as Claire had trusted us to watch over her, I trust you to watch over us both. Don't be afraid, we're here with you."
The Program:
M23 - William Chandler
Status: Alive | Weapons: TEC-9 | Killcount: 0 | Current location: Field Hospital - Small Comforts
Threads involved: [o--o--o-

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Little Boy
Regular
[ *  *  * ]
Standing around the corner, Brett had seen the fire long before it had had a chance to illuminate him, or expose his presence. Crouching in the shadows for once he found himself smiling at the stupidity of others. Lighting a fire inside? It was a fucking beacon. Killers and kids alike would be flocking from all over the playing field, like moths to the flame. And sure enough, a knock at the door signaled they had company.

Brett couldn't see the three, but from the voices he established quickly that the group was two boys and a girl. One of the guys seemed to be the leader, Brett didn't catch his name. Either that or they failed to mention it. The girl was named Claire, which brought up very little in terms of information. He knew a few girls named Claire, but none all too well. They were both blank slates. The third one was a Duncan, which tickled the back of his mind. He knew a Duncan from somewhere. He cursed himself for not remembering names the first time around. It was coming back to bite him in the ass, hard.

Okay, well shit. I've got no info on them, and they're literally fucking camping indoors. Retards by the looks of things. But are they armed? And would it be worth it to take them out?

Brett looked down at the gun in his hand. He'd toyed with the notion when he'd met Alex. But that had been a joke, a show. Just like the Program had just been a show. He'd just been ragging on the guy, he barely remembered half of what he'd told him. Ending a life, for real and true? What would THAT be like? He'd find out, one way or another. He just knew it, deep down in his gut.

Rising up, Brett walked around the corner calmly, the gun at his side. They seemed unprepared, an advantage he intended to exploit. Still, it was important to remember just who they were. Humans, classmates. Killing them senselessly would hold consequences, and he didn't want to rush in too fast.

Stepping into the light, he saw the group was on the move. Claire and the first boy towards the door, and stepping towards him...

"Oh shit." He said blankly. "It's you."

Durriken. Or something like that. The kid was a straight up weirdo, and Brett avoided him the best he could. He wasn't even worth a joke to him and his friends, Durriken was such an oddball it just wasn't worth trying to figure out what made him tick. He was a Roma, or a Gypsy or something. Brett wasn't exactly sure what the correct term was. Or the incorrect term. And now they were here, face to face.

Someone knocked on the front door again. Brett cocked his head, staring at the group. With a wave of his weapon, he gestured towards the door on the other side of the makeshift fire.

"Well open the fucking door. No sense being rude."
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Lord_Shadow
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Eldritch Consumer, Requiem Agent
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Claire Heartland answered Jen's rather foolish, now that she thought about it anyway, introduction. That, and she gave her six seconds to reply. Presumably before gunshots or stabbing happened. Simple enough.

She was just about to reply when another girl spoke. A girl called Priscilla.

She was in a bad spot. Potential threats all around. But no one to blame but herself.

Best to try and defuse the situation. "Uh, nice to meet you Priscilla. I'm Jennifer." Now to focus her attention on the group inside. "My name is Jennifer Steinman, nice to hear you I guess, Claire Heartland. That's who I am. Who I'm with, well I'm not alone anymore. Priscilla here surprised me. So I guess she's here for the same reason I am. And that reason is: I'm looking for a group to travel with."

Honest, but no elaboration on the specifics. Now it was all up to seeing if that was enough for Claire... and hoping Priscilla here wasn't crazy and going to attack her. She reached for her bag to grab the knife, just in case. But she wasn't going to draw it out unless someone else made a move first.
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There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!

1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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OverlordMikey
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[ * ]
Claire didn’t even notice the new guy - she was deep in her own thoughts about what to do.

“My name is Jennifer Steinman, nice to hear you I guess, Claire Heartland. That's who I am. Who I'm with, well I'm not alone anymore. Priscilla here surprised me. So I guess she's here for the same reason I am. And that reason is: I'm looking for a group to travel with."

Jennifer Steinman? That girl? She was friends with everyone - well not everyone. It was Claire’s belief that a few true friends are worth more than a million fake friends. Jennifer was fake as they come…
Still was that worth letting her die?
Claire felt conflicted - she knew how to play, but she didn’t have the heart. Well it was more like she had a heart and couldn‘t put it aside - besides Jennifer could be useful to them…

"Well open the fucking door. No sense being rude."

Claire turned around and looked at the person; she didn‘t know him. “W-who the hell are you?” Claire just shook her head. Who gave a shit? She felt no closer to finding Juliet then when this started. “Watch you language; gees-.” There was a strange sense of sincerity in her voice; even though Claire herself didn‘t really have a problem with swearing. It just messed with her thinking process right now. “This girl could be dangerous.”

She then turned to William. Making sure that the others; specifically Jennifer, couldn‘t hear her speaking.

“I don’t know what to do - Jennifer isn‘t really that trust worthy; at least as far as I know. She’s got a lot of friends, but she always seemed like the type who’d be willing to toss a few away without remorse. I don‘t know the girl who supposedly just showed up” It was stupid, but she couldn’t get the image of not to long ago out of her head. “but I’m gonna let them in - I know it‘s stupid, but if we become paranoid now we‘re just going to be sacrificing innocent lives for the sake of this program and that would make us just as bad as the people who are killing. Just remember to take everything she says with a grain of salt and keep an eye on her.” Claire grinned. “Make that a pound of salt.”

She prepared incase their guest or guests turned out to be packing heat and planned to add them to a list of victims. She spoke to the two outside. “I didn't mean to threaten you- I’m opening the door - just get inside quickly.”

As she opened the door it seemed like the whole world slowed down for a brief moment and the only thing that made sound was her heart.
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God gave this land to me.
[ *  * ]
As soon as Claire mentioned that she was going to open the door, Priscilla's first instinct was to scurry over to the old, rusted entryway, right beside her new acquaintance Jennifer. Worry still pawed at her thoughts, but it was weaker now. In the possibility of one of them turning to murder, she could simply sprint out of the room, or possibly disarm the situation with the other inhabitants. The possibility of two of them would probably play out similarly. The possibility of three...

She wasn't feeling too good about this choice all of a sudden. She ran away.

Or, rather, she should have. In spite of her newfound worries, something kept her rooted to the same spot, albeit with her eyes trained on Jennifer, just in case she decided to turn on her. The something was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, different from her usual emotions of fear and rage. What was it, again? It was on the tip of her tongue...

Ah, yes. Indignation.

Priscilla was now tired of running away. She was sick of living in fear, always thinking about what could happen to her. Determined to beat back the terror that controlled her, she waited patiently as Claire opened the door.
The Program
F25 - Priscilla Sawyer - Bike lock

The Program V2
M13 - Lenny Osborne - Pool cue
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Hollyquin
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Why don't you just give up and die...?
[ *  * ]
"Duncan. Don't worry, I'll watch after Claire, so she'll be safe. I promise."

Durriken suddenly felt very young, curled up on the floor with a larger boy essentially telling him that things were going to be okay. Particularly given that Durriken knew better than anyone how blatantly untrue that was. His intuition was screaming at him, telling him to get out of there right now because bad things, horrible things were coming very soon and the farther away Durriken was the better off he'd be. But he knew full well that to leave now would be to go against fate, not to mention he didn't want to leave William and Claire. They might need him. If he was going to die- and oh, he was, he could feel how close it was- he wanted them to survive at least.

"I know it'll be hard, but remember, you're only protecting others, not trying to harm another person. Just as Claire had trusted us to watch over her, I trust you to watch over us both. Don't be afraid, we're here with you." Durriken could only nod. That was what he'd do- he'd protect them for as long as he could. Once he died...well, there wasn't much he could do then. But in the meantime, perhaps he could be of use. Maybe he'd be able to-

"Oh, shit. It's you."

All that thinking went out the window as Durriken whirled around to face the new arrival, as the boy's words were accompanied by the most intense pain, as though someone had stabbed him through the heart. He gasped and clutched his chest, for a moment sure he'd already been shot before realizing that for the moment he was unharmed. That would not last, because this boy was going to kill him.

He knew. He knew as surely as he knew that two plus two equals four; it was a simple fact. He could hear Claire speaking, could hear her choosing to open the door and he knew that that was not a good decision, but he couldn't unstick his attention for long enough to warn her again. He was distracted, obviously, but he was not afraid. He knew this was coming from a mile away and in all honesty he only had one question he needed asked.

Looking straight at the boy, who he recognized as Brett Torres, he asked quietly and calmly-

"Why do you want to kill me?"
SOTF: The Program
[SOTF: TV] ALIVE:
[x] Terrilynn "Lynn" Boden [GRY2] // Bulletproof Vest // Detroit Central High School // "Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to? Yeah...yeah, that's what I thought." // CL: The Ski Resort :: Whatcha Gonna Do
[x] Leopold Sutherland [W04] // Silver Dragon Academy // Dildo (discarded) // "Oh, this? Yes, it's vintage, my grandfather wore it in the seventies...I'm sure you've heard of him." -----> Adopted by Fioriboy
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GeneralT
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Pities the fool
[ * ]
It was as if something had been activated, as people appeared out of nowhere, and activity exploded around them in just the last few minutes. William had almost turned around to confront the newest person, before stopping himself cold. His task was to cover Claire, so he should focus on that, and leave the back to Duncan. That's what they had agreed on just moments ago.

Well, he'd like to believe they both agreed on that specific detail. Duncan had nodded, so it should be safe to assume that he got the back covered, right?

Right.

...

William spared a glance at Duncan and the new guy. They seemed to know each other, though their reaction didn't seem to indicate anything too friendly. He grimaced at that thought, and hoped really hard that he was just hearing things when he heard what Duncan had said. The new kid couldn't possibly decided to just attack them when there were three people with guns, right? Granted, they were all distracted and spread out at the moment, but it's still a monumentally crazy thing to just attack them.

William gritted his teeth. He...he'll leave the new guy to Duncan, as had agreed before. With the threat of three firearms, he hoped it would be enough to delay any hostilities, giving them enough time to all calm down a little, before any violence breaks out.

"I must...I cannot...not again..." William mumbled soundlessly, silently reassuring himself that things would be alright, that it would all turn out okay. He won't fail again, not this time, not ever. He breathed in deeply, and focused his gun on the front door that was opening, where he could see shapes moving on the other side.
The Program:
M23 - William Chandler
Status: Alive | Weapons: TEC-9 | Killcount: 0 | Current location: Field Hospital - Small Comforts
Threads involved: [o--o--o-

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Little Boy
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Well. All things considered, he should have expected it. Durriken, or Duncan, or whatever, wasn't exactly known for being the sanest guy around. Given the circumstances he should have suspected he'd have a few screws loose. The Program did that to kids, some sooner then others. Brett's gaze flickered down to his gun.

Could I really kill this guy? He's annoying enough...

Still, he was hesitant. Fucking with someone was fun. Shooting someone was entirely different. He was suddenly beginning to realize just why kids on The Program always seemed to get cold feet. It wasn't as easy as it looked.

When I get outta' here, I seriously need to ask how any of this bullshit improves America. Because really, I have questions...

Brett looked up, considering the three. Aside from Durriken, there was another boy, armed like him. The prospect of a gunfight was exciting and terrifying at the same time. He didn't doubt his own survival. No, dying like this? It wasn't his plan, and it would be stupid to even consider it. No matter what happened his survival was ensured. He was going to win. And barely any of them knew how to shoot in the first place. Just because someone had given them firearms didn't mean they instantly knew how to use them.

Course, I've got a little more experience then most. I know what a safety is to begin with.

CLICK.

...And I just flicked it off.

He was excited. More excited then he should be. The Program meant death for all who entered, there was no reason for celebration. His family was watching him. He was world famous, known in every household. They'd all see what he was capable of. He was showing his true colors, and so far they were disturbing even him. Could he do it? He'd never had reason to doubt the authority before. They'd never lead him astray, hell, he INTENDED to kill for them.

But in the service. That's not the same thing, that's protecting something. What am I protecting now? I'm just being a fucking dickbag. I'm just killing because I'm curious. What kind of fucked up little shit am I?

His friends were watching him. That's what it boiled down to. He swung his weapon around, casually aiming it towards Durriken. He shrugged his shoulders.

"What? Kill you? I'm not going to kill you man. That's a sin." He laughed. "Unless you want me to kill you." He said smiling.

Cautiously, he began to circle the boy to his left, making efforts to keep his movements calm and controlled. If things were going to turn into a shitfest, he wasn't going to be caught standing in the open. To his left were pillars, ergo, cover. That was as good a move as any.

"Is that like, you having a premonition? You think I'm going to kill you, in the future? That's kinda fucked up gypsy boy." He laughed again, momentarily dropping his aim back to the ground, and scratching his shaggy golden blond with his free hand, a dopey grin present on his face.

"Aw, listen to me. I sound like fuckin' Archie Bunker. I'm just fucking with you man, seriously, believe me on that one. I just kinda like seeing that look, when you're all pissed off. I haven't killed anyone yet, as hard as that is to believe. I could start now, I really could. But I'll settle for your stuff."

Almost effortlessly, the pistol was up again, aimed directly at Durriken's chest. Brett's finger slipped below the trigger guard. His heart was racing, he wanted to slap himself, feel some shame at the butterflies in his chest. But he just couldn't. He had always been fully prepared to take the plunge, for the right reason or the wrong one.

I guess this is how it's going to go down. God, I'm a real cunt when I get right down to it.

"Unless of course, you want me to kill you." Brett said, smiling.
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Lord_Shadow
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Eldritch Consumer, Requiem Agent
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"Finally, someone with some sense of decency." Jen felt things were turning up in the world. Well, not that that was saying much considering the situation but still. She started walking through the door. "Thanks. You're about the first person I've met today that—" She abruptly cut off her own sentence when she walked through the door and noticed one thing pointing straight at her.

And that thing was an honest to god gun. William Chandler was the one holding it. And he looked a little, concerned. Was that the right word in this situation? Didn't matter. He was pointing a gun at her. She instantly shot her hands up in the air. "Hey! Non-threatening. Non-threat—"

She had quickly scanned the room to see what was in it. She hadn't expected much. Aside from the people she heard from outside that is. The fire in the building was unsurprising as well. What was surprising was that there was another kid with a gun. Brett Torres if she remembered correctly. That wouldn't be much more of a problem than the other gun in the room.

Only the problem was that he was pointing the gun at one of their group. "Oh shit!" She mentally smacked herself. "Way to go moron. You just got yourself into a situation with a psycho with a gun." She began to back up, simultaneously lowering her arms and trying to open her bag to get her knife. "Dammit."

Priscilla wasn't her concern at the moment. Jen didn't care what she did so long as she moved out of the damn way and let her get cover. Oh, and didn't attack her as well. She had to focus. The best way not to die was to just back out, take cover against the wall and wait for the gunmen to murder each other.

And then of course, try and get one of the guns if at all possible.
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There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!

1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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