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Lucidity; BLK NO3 - START
Topic Started: Apr 19 2011, 03:23 AM (2,519 Views)
Brackie
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[ *  *  *  * ]
The sand...

A body lay on the beach. Small. Inconsequential. Not even crying, yet her eyes were wide and staring. Less than five minutes ago, Black Team Member No. 3, forever cast from the world as Holly Hadaway, awoke to the sting of a white bird pecking at her calves. It brought her back, it brought her down, it brought her a reality to face. A twitch of the legs later, a twitch through murkiness and black, and the flaps of a small pair of wings and the soft touch of shedding down.

She'd woken up.

Her dreams were that of pain. Every single second spent under the gas was like a lesson in pure concentrated torture. She was lucid throughout her entire dream, aware of what was going on. She knew that only moments before her own little fake reality inside her head, she was in front of a crowd of screaming teenagers and adults, while she stared mindlessly at her lap, her hair blocking the widened eyes and agape lips. Before the hissing jets pumped her system full of sedatives, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face in the crowd. A man...a woman? Someone?

She was there, but she was screaming.

But then, she woke up, and she stood on the edge of a volcano, blood dripping from her hands as her eyes cried black liquid, a familiar figure of two hundred pounds clinging to volcanic rock as his hands burned. Husks of flesh bubbled in the lava below as she watched helplessly as Jack's clothes were set ablaze from sheer convection.

But then she woke up again, and she was crouched at the edge of a tree branch, a thick rubbery vine draped around her neck as the eyes of a young liberal mind held out a serrated blade to her back. The floristic platform shuddered, and Holly could say no more as the snapping engulfed her aural senses, and hair fell limp.

But then, she was there, arguing with her dad, who had only just then found the little baggies that were stashed in her socks, as Charlotte or Cherrie or Kandy or whoever the impostor who sought to take away her trust fund for extensions and surgery lazed in the background with a wine glass strapped to her hand, and couldn't do anything when the large man slapped the girl across the face for using the foulest language he'd ever heard, even with her impediment.

But only then did something nip at her leg, and her eyes grew wide as they stretched out the overhanging palms and ridiculously blue sky.

And five minutes later, she blinked for the first time.

The blinks brought with them tears.

Holly sniffed. Not a genuinely common reaction, but...it did the job.

It filled her up, brought her back. Her nails dug into the glistening white sand, and tilted her body up to a sitting position. An abstract of scattered wood, seaweed, lapping waves and a gorgeous sun hanging in the sky. It shimmered, it did everything that could possibly inebriate the young mind of a sixteen year old girl who was still shrugging off the effects of a sleeping gas which still needed a long time to work out of her system.

Her head felt dizzy, she wanted to puke, not from an instinctual human reaction but from the sheer mind-numbing pain the dizziness wrought. Her upper body collapsed onto the sand next to her, and she lay there, still boggling with pain.

"Uhh..."

Sand crept into her half-open lips, and Holly tried to shut them, entrap and expel the sand, but all it did was bitter her tongue and make her want to retch. She pulled herself out, spit the sand to its brothers, and sat there, holding her head in her hand as those honey locks shrouded her face from view yet again. They blocked out her own bag, and the world around her, draped under a set of palms which crept to the sea.

"Oh fuck, oh th'it, oh...oh th'it..."

There was still so much she hadn't done in her life for her to end it like this, shuddering and hunched on a beach, spitting sand. There was a boy she was about to take the next step with, there were tests she had to take, there were colleges and universities her ambling father dragged her too that she still needed to visit, she had debts to pay off, she had stuff she needed to get rid of...if the school ever found that pot, her father would be so ashamed, think of how much strife he would be in if it got out his only daughter, his aspiring star into the legal world, was found with pot.

Oh. Wow, look at her, same old Holly, thinking about everything buzzing through her head.

But there was really nothing else to do but think back and regret everything she ever did wrong with her life, and how nothing she ever did was going to make it better again, as the stabbing pain in her head grew bigger and her tears flowed faster.
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[ *  *  * ]
((debut of Alicia White))


Alicia held her arm above her eyes to shield them from the bright sun. She felt the grains of sand fall onto her face. She sputtered as she squinted and looked away. There was a wide swath of sand all around her. To her left, there was ocean. She could hear the gentle crashing of waves against the shore. She smiled a bit, thinking that this was the first time in her life that she'd ever been to a beach.

Her smile disappeared as soon as she turned her head. She felt the stiff collar shift slightly against her neck. This is Survival of the Fittest; that collar is there to blow my head off. Her tears started flowing down her cheeks and she couldn't restrain a few choked sobs.

When she regained a bit of control over her emotions, she looked to her right, away from the shore. She noticed two things simultaneously: the dark blue backpack with a large, single-barrel shotgun resting on it; and a blonde girl in a checkered skirt who looked like she had a southern California tan. Who the hell is that? Ali glanced back at the shotgun, wondering if she should be ready to defend herself, but the other girl didn't look armed. In fact, she looked just as distraught as Ali was.

Slowly, Ali got to her feet, wiped a bit of the sand off of her jeans, and grabbed the backpack in one hand and the shotgun's barrel in the other (they were both heavier than she expected). She walked cautiously toward the other girl.

She cleared her throat to alert the girl of her presence in a hopefully non-threatening way. "I guess you're not from Detroit, huh?" She tried to smile pleasantly. "I'm Ali White." She dropped the shotgun in the sand and held out one hand in a offer of friendship.
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Brackie
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[ *  *  *  * ]
"Oh...oh god, Jack, where are you..."

Holly trembled as she realised how alone she was, finally. Her head still kept the beat of pain. She was oblivious to the world around her, oblivious to the other person who themselves had woken up on the white and dusty sands. No, her headache and her time spent grieving was her time. Only for Holly, no one else.

So when someone decided to intrude, she couldn't help but feel...really, really angry.

Her eyes darted up through her hair at the new girl, African-American or someone. She wasn't from Bryan, that was for sure, she didn't see her yesterday when she went to Criminal Law...

...so if she wasn't at her school, that meant she wasn't on her team!

"There are rules, Holly. In the business world, you need to follow the rules."

She bit her lip as she watched the shotgun, the really really big gun, fall dully to the sand, and like that Holly was scrambling towards her bag, eyes wild with fear. There was no way this was how it was ending. She threw away her gun, but...but she was from Detroit? That...that was practically a criminal underground! There were so many bad people who lived in Detroit, and if they went to school at a bad school...

Holly managed to rip open her bag, and grabbed the first thing that slipped into her hand. It felt cold, metallic, and not at all right in her hands. It had to be something, because her internal protests against weaponry were going off like several thousand alarm clocks.

She jumped up, spun around, and found herself clutching a small metal ball with a pin sticking out of it.

...Grenade.

"Th'tay back! Don't come any clo'ther!" Holly yelled, grenade held right out in front of her, right at the girl, Alicia was it? like she was holding a bomb. Which, low and behold, she was.

Plea'the, just leath me alone...
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The girl's eyes got so wide, Ali thought whimsically that they might pop out of her head. But the California girl wasn't just startled or scared, she was outright panicking. Ali knew the look; she had seen it on a few faces when she was still a member of the Fivers back in Detroit. She was probably thousands of miles away from there, but she recognized the look of panic no matter where she was.

The California girl nearly leaped for her backpack where it lay on the sand, almost ripping open the pack and grabbing something. She held it out toward Ali like some sort of weapon, saying "Th'tay back! Don't come any clo'ther!" Her body language left no room for mistaking what she meant through her lisp.

Beep

At first, Ali wasn't sure what weapon the girl was pointing at her. It didn't look like a gun or a blade. It almost looked like some awkward set of brass knuckles. Then she noticed the thin metal ring attached to the pin. The pin that held the spoon in place, and without that, big boom. A look of panic began to play out on Ali's face as well.

She backed up several steps. Oh, God, why does she have a grenade? Is she really going to try to kill me right here right now? With a grenade!? That's a terrible weapon for short range and no cover; she'd get badly injured or worse. No one who knows how to use one of those things would try using it at this distance unless they're really desperate. But what if she doesn't know how to use a grenade? Oh crap, she could easily kill us both!

Beep

Ali held out her right hand, which she'd so recently offered in friendship, now as part of a plea. "Please, just stay cool! I'm not your enemy here. That was the weapon they gave me," she pointed to the shotgun. "Take it if you must, but just calm the fuck down." She thought for a moment that she'd heard something out of place, even for this bizarre scene. "Um, did you hear a 'beeping'?"

Beep

This time there was no doubt. The beeps were coming from her collar. Why is my collar beeping? Why is my collar beeping?? She looked again at the California girl and saw that the panic was still in her, her eyes darting in several directions but always returning to Ali and her now-beeping collar. "God damn it, put that thing down and fucking help me!"

Beep

Am I in a Danger Zone? I don't remember any being announced, and California girl over there doesn't have a beeping collar. Are the producers pissed off because I dropped my assigned weapon? I don't remember them ever doing that before. Think! Why?

Beep

I'm going to fucking die right here! I was just starting to really live for myself instead of for a street gang. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. Every part of her body began to quiver with the horrible combination of dread and terror. She moaned, "Oh shit!"

Beep beep
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Brackie
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Holly's hands shook like barley, as she stood there, holding her pathetic attempt at a ward to this girl, this strange and foreign girl, who she didn't know, and for all intents and purposes, was her enemy. Her shoes, some perfect substitute for leather yet still equally as useless on the beach, squeaked through the sand as they tried to step backwards, away from her.

But something...something was wrong.

While she tried to offer some explanation, Holly couldn't help but notice that a few sharp beeps resonated through the crisp sea air. She blinked, and stopped creeping backwards and tried to find out where that sound was coming from. Was it her collar?...Collar?

Her left hand, almost numb and raw, at least the way she felt it, inked its way up to her neck, where she felt another touch of metal. Of course, her collar, she should have been paying more attention. It touched it briefly, then moved away, as her hands clenched to a fist.

But...this wasn't her collar, this was the girl's collar, right there! The same girl who...who wasn't...the same girl who she didn't know
but was terrified
but she didn't know and needed her help.
Holly's lips wordlessly moved, open and closed, open and closed, trying to figure out what to say, what was happening? Her eyes fluttered around, looking for something, anything that could tell her what was going on. There was beeping, what did it mean? What did the beeping mean?

"Uh...Uh..."

Holly racked her brain. What did it mean? Were they in a danger zone, no, otherwise they'd be dead, and it was the first day, come on, common sense, get back up there, tell her what to do! She looked up...Alicia?...up and down, scanning her panicky figure, trying to figure out what separated her in the here and now, what was it?

Something clicked in her mind, something she should have payed attention to...

It just so happened that at that very moment, she caught a glimpse of the black fabric embracing her left arm.

...then it really clicked.

Did he say something about the bandanas?

He said something about the bandanas, he definitely said something about the bandanas!

"T-The Bandana! Get your bandana out! Get it out of your bag, hurry, ju'th...ju'th put it on, th'omewhere!" Holly urged to the girl standing before her. Her feet crept closer, towards her bag, her hands felt weak, she didn't need this stress, not now. Her right arm flung the grenade into her open bag. Tiny explosives she never intended to use were not conducive to all this stress.
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The California girl was shaking with fright and took a couple of steps away from Ali as if Ali were the dangerous one. Then, the other girl's expression started to change, her panic tempered by confusion.

Beep beep

As the girl's confusion started to overwhelm her panic, her left hand slowly reached up and touched her own explosive collar. Her eyes darted around as if looking for something until lighting on one of her own sleeves. Ali followed the girl's gaze and saw a small strip of black cloth tucked under the sleeve. Ali didn't understand the significance of it, until the other girl lisped for her to get her bandanna and put it on.

Beep beep

The team bandannas! How could I forget that? Ali fell to her knees and struggled to open her assigned backpack with shaking hands. She got the main compartment open, but it was stuffed full of various supplies and spare clothes. Her hands dug through the seemingly random assortment searching for something bandanna-like.

Beep beep

Her hands found a sparkling gold bandanna and she raised it high above her head. "I've got it! Please stop beeping!" She wrapped the fabric around her neck, concealing the collar. She stopped breathing, waiting for the next beeps.



Silence. Waves crashing gently against the sandy beach.



She exhaled and let her head rest on top of her backpack. She could feel her heart still beating at twice its normal rate. She tried to breathe slowly to calm down. She noticed something else gold in the backpack. She drew it out slowly and held it up so she and the California girl could both recognize it: a pair of gold lamé bellbottoms.

She couldn't suppress a giggle. "I guess no one will mistake which team I'm on if I wear these."
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[ *  * ]
(Say hello to Smythe...)

Smythe had woken up on the beach with a face full of sand. His eyes stared round and he looked genuinely grim as he observed his surroundings.

Smythe was displeased indeed; he had seen this accursed show before and despised it. Now he he’s shanghaied and forced to take part in it. He had passed the shock phase and slowly prepared for the war to come. However, in war he must have soldiers. The ultimate loner needed to be the ultimate general. Yes, he must be a six star general like Jack Horner was.

He slowly made his way with his bandana proudly wrapped round his left arm. He spotted Holly talking to someone else. He vaguely knew Holly from the Academy. The other one was cannon fodder for all he cared however; Holly bared the bandana of his team. His first soldier found already, if it continued to be like this, his army would be complete quickly.

He stepped out and revealed himself to Holly and the cannon fodder. “Holly I am on your side. My name is Harold and we need to find the others if we are to survive here,”
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A small smile embraced Holly's face warmly as she saw that the girl did exactly was she was told to do and got her bandana out. She screamed to the heavens, begging for the beeping to stop, and then...all was well. The collar stopped its countdown, and this girl...Alicia, looked relieved.

It also happened that this wall all she needed to calm down about her situation. Just a little something something to get her brain clocking. She was calm. Thinking. So...okay, so Alicia didn't seem too bad, she just...was an unfamiliar face. She obviously wasn't hostile. She wasn't going to shoot her, and...she did seem genuinely scared.

Holly's face continued that smile as she pulled out what appeared to be a pair of clothes that looked positively ancient.

"I gue'th not. Um...I'm th'orry for...you know, doing that..."

She tried to avoid her gaze, just for a moment, while her lips mumbled incomprehensible silent words and she needed to know what to really say.

"Look...do you wanna th'tick together for...a bit?" Holly managed to make out. "I...I wanna try and th'ind my friends, th'o...how about it?" Holly said, trying her best to sound genuine. Because she was being really genuine here, honest.

But another voice broke the crashes in the background, a male voice. It didn't sound familiar at first glance, but. She turned around on the spot to find someone speaking to her. Directly to her, Holly Hadaway. He was on her team? Well, that was nice and all, but that wasn't helpful to finding her friends.

"Uh, th'ure, I gue'th. Uh....hi?" Holly weakly tried to make out. He was a large kid, and...well, fat people tended to scare her. Not her Jack, though, he was the only one she could stand. She inched closer to Alicia, bag clasped in her hand.
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[ *  * ]
(Ben continued from The Forest)

As per his plan, Ben decided to go to the entire opposite side of the island from his previous location. This meant trekking through the plains. Which, incidentally, was no easy task for someone as sedentary as him. Along the way he crunched on saltines and took carefully measured drinks of water. He'd contemplated the Clif bars, but he'd chosen to save them for later.

Speaking of choices, Ben chose a purple bandana this time, securing it over the pink one. Running a hand through his scraggly hair, he allowed himself a satisfied smile. A few weeks ago, his mother had pestered him to get a haircut. Now those long black locks might just earn him a few extra moments of scrutiny, which might save his life.

So many conditionals and unknowns. Still, purple was also his favorite color. The color for royalty in the west. The color for mourning in Thailand, he'd once read. For a moment, he thought of relaying this tidbit to whatever camera captured him. True, he might mumble and stutter to someone directly in front of him, but he hadn't seen the cameras and the audience might as well not exist. So, they were relegated into some sort of arbitrary safety zone. He could talk to them if he so wished.

But by the time he surveyed his surroundings again, Ben found himself on sand. The beach, the Resort Beach, to be succinct. He wondered how many people had effectively ascertained their position on the island. Perhaps it could be an advantage.

However many minutes passed and Ben saw people up ahead. His heart quickened in his chest and he reached up to touch the purple bandana.

"False," he said, as if this single word explained everything.

Going to the water, he bent down to check his bandana a second time. The purple covered the pink. It was now or never and so he walked closer to the people. One of them had a really big shotgun, but he didn't notice the weapons of the others. The bandanas, however, were noted. No purples. Gold. Black. Black. So two team mates had found each other already.

They seemed to be speaking and no one had killed another. So he approached, openly. "Er...hi," he said, holding his arms close but giving a small wave.
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Ali's relief seemed to affect California Girl also. She smiled at Ali's quip about the gold bellbottoms, and then she apologized for threatening her. Then she said, "Look...do you wanna th'tick together for...a bit? I...I wanna try and th'ind my friends, th'o...how about it?"

Ali was still hyperventilating a bit, so she found a water bottle from her backpack and began drinking. She doesn't seem like the most stable of people to hang around with, but then again, most people would say that about me. Why not travel together? But before she could give voice to her thoughts, another boy walked over the sand toward them.

The boy was practically a giant, standing almost a foot and a half taller than Ali and weighing nearly two and a half times her body weight. He towered over both girls and looked to Ali like a cross between a computer nerd and an ogre. Then he spoke: “Holly I am on your side. My name is Harold and we need to find the others if we are to survive here.” The bandanna wrapped around his left arm was black, like the cloth in California Girl's sleeve.

So California Girl's name is Holly? Why not? She certainly looks like a Holly or a Tiffany. As Harold the Ogre got closer, Ali noticed Holly clutching her pack tightly to her chest and shuffling towards Ali.

Alicia quickly capped her water bottle and shoved it back into her pack, then took two quick steps over to where her assigned shotgun lay. She picked it up with her free hand. One more step brought her close enough to whisper to Holly, "So this guy's not one of your friends? I could go with you, but this guy could crush me with two fingers if he wanted."

Before Holly could respond, another boy walked down the beach from inland. This one had more normal human dimensions, stringy black hair, thin frame, and a purple bandanna around his head. He looks like a Sluagh, Ali thought. His greeting was also much less aggressive, merely a 'hi' and a modest wave. I think I trust the Sluagh more than the Ogre right now.

Ali looked around, wondering where the next person was going to come from. She slung her backpack over her left shoulder, feeling its weight crushing her, then she gestured to Holly. "It's too open here. There's no cover. We should find some place to rest and eat and talk about what we want to happen here."

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[ * ]
[Here's Johnny ( John "Jack" Lemmon )]

Jack awoke in a daze.

He opened one eye first, then the other, and the world spun around him briefly as the smell of the ocean wafted under his nose, assuring him that he was a long way from home.

Thinking he had heard the sound of his beloved Holly's voice from afar, he started to get up, but he sat up far too quickly and got a bad case of headrush. Within seconds, the world was spinning again, and Jack struggled to get his feet planted, stumbling and falling a few times before finally managed to get upright (to an outside observer he would have looked very drunk).

Once the world had slowed to a gentle wobbling, he started walking in the direction of the voice, but just as he started he managed to trip over a rather large object that happened to be protruding from that particular patch of ground. After checking for injuries (which amounted to one slightly skinned elbow and a scrape on his knee) he went back to see what could have caused his sudden decrease in altitude.

He dug through the ground a bit until he had unveiled the entire object which had led (and may also soon lead again) to his downfall. He was taken aback when he realized that he was looking at one of the biggest and most powerful examples of an object he had come to despise so strongly, he was staring right down the barrel of a genuine Smith & Wesson 500.

"Holy shit" thought Jack as he gazed at the hideous monster.

Now, at first Jack thought that there was no way that he would ever lay a hand on that horrible thing he saw before him, but then a thought creeped its way into his skull. He started to realize that at present, he was all alone on this island which was completely unfamiliar to him, not to mention the fact that it was the goal of literally everyone on the island to see to it that he does not live to see tomorrow. After what seemed like hours but was only mere seconds of moral deliberation, he decided that considering the circumstances it was necessary for him to not only carry this weapon, but to be ready to use it if it is a matter of life or death, although the thought of even touching this killing machine brought a tear to his eye.

After he picked up the massive handgun, he noticed an open bag not ten feet away from his current position, many of the contents spread out in the immediate vicinity. He walked over and first pick up the loose clothes that were scattered about, which included a t-shirt branded with the Crush Soda logo, some pants, underwear, and a plain beige-y or cream colored t-shirt with a matching bandana, both of which he put on. Once he had gathered all of the clothes he started searching through the remaining contents of the bag itself. Inside he found various rations, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a package of condoms (durex brand, bleh) and... a novelty inflatable sumo suit.

After he was done discovering his new possessions he trekked off in the direction where he had just a few minutes prior heard the voice of his sweet Holly, and before he knew it he was in a full sprint, anxious to catch up with her and make sure she was alright. Just as he was about to pass out from over-exertion, he looked up and could just make out three figures in the distance. He ran a bit more, and when he was close enough to see who he was looking at, he called out,

"HOLLY!!! HOLLY!!!" He screamed.

She turned toward him, and he smiled.


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shining knight
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[ *  * ]
Harold was displeased that one of his team was spurning him. He shook his head and muttered “Look we need to stick together and protect each other. We need to form an army…that is the only way we can survive this nightmare. I trust you’ve seen this insane series we are stuck in before and know how dangerous it can get without allies.”

He turned and studied Ben with a smile on his face. He could be useful in the war to come. He could make a most interesting ally Time to turn on the Smythe family charm.

“Hello sir…we seem to be in a bit of a pickle at the moment. I agree with the girl in that we should find some sort of shelter and talk more,” he then turned back to the two girls and gave them as genuine a smile as he could muster without being sick.

Then he heard a boy screaming the name of his teammate and he felt he suddenly had a golden ticket. This must be someone who cares for Holly a lot someone who would march into war for her. Someone who would die for her and then Harold grinned even more almost like a wolf chewing on some steak.
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[ *  *  *  * ]
Her fears were backed up by inadmissible evidence, here. This guy said he was on her team, but...there was something seriously wrong about him. The way he acted, the way he talked. It wasn't...well, it didn't seem right to her. She'd been sticking her guns into the world of Criminal Law, and the stuff he said would send off dozens of flags to any jury in the world for a convicted murderer. Army? What kind of talk was that, they were only teenagers!

She leaned close to the strange girl, about to say something, when someone else showed up, another boy that seemed somewhat familiar, yet her impeded tongue couldn't wrap itself around that certain face. Purple bandana, not that it mattered...

But there was that matter at hand, the guy to talk about while he chatted to the newcomer. Her lean resumed as she spoke once again to Alicia.

"No, he'th not my friend, I-I don't think I've ever th'een him before, I'm not th'ure...th'ame with-with him," Holly stuttered, just trying to wrap her head around certain facts that seemed to be popping up.

Alicia suggested the sensible act of getting somewhere safer, somewhere with shelter. With these people? A guy she couldn't land her finger on, a girl who almost died because it didn't look like she was paying attention or something, and...and a weird one. This couldn't be her team, right? Well, no, it wasn't her real team, obviously, but...was she going to have to stick with these people?

The answer was initially yes. But a slew of new events twisted that into a no.

Her name echoed across the beach, piercing through the waves, and Holly turned to see who was calling her out. Her breath grew sharp, as she realised that it was him. Jack was there. Her boyfriend was there, almost a few short minutes after she woke up.

"Oh-Oh my god, JACK!" Holly yelled out, and still clutching her bag, and the girl almost sprinted across the sand towards the name. By almost, it meant she stumbled through the sand, past her three closest allies or enemies, whatever they wanted to be called right now, and into his arms.

This was wonderful. She'd found him, and with the other four, they could stick together, even if only for a little bit (that guy in blue really creeped her out), and everything could be okay, if only for a short while.

If only.

But Holly's life wasn't a story. Sure, she was on TV for everyone to see, and her life, at least everything her father told to her when she asked, had the makings of a Friday Night Hallmark movie, but it just wasn't going to work out that way because Holly wanted it to.

Because even though she was almost close to fainting without the aid of the gas during the opening, she'd paid attention. She'd seen the bandanas fly by on the screen, and recognised them from her fleeting grasp of memory. Especially the fourteenth. She'd dreaded the day she'd have to meet that poor soul, someone who didn't have a chance. In her heart of hearts, she'd begged the heavens, pleaded that it wasn't someone she knew. Please not Shawn, please not Jack, please not Leo (their relationship was just professional, but...she liked the weed. He had good prices, okay?), not even Kevin, of all people let it not be Kevin.

But the white bandana shone to her as she got close, only noticeable to those trickily placed cameras and the girl who was closest to him in the world, and she did not see the Dragon, in its pose so reminiscent of SDA's emblem, shining out like the murals out back, she did not see anything else on the plain bandana strapped to Jack's arm as she ran towards him.

But she never stopped running, she wrapped her arms around Jack and held him close, so close. They were held together for so long, that it was like time just held its ticker, just for them. Her eyes were clenched shut as she whispered into his ear, trying to find the right words to say to the most doomed person in the world.

"Jack, oh god Jack, I-I'm th'o th'orry Jack, I-I'm th'o th'orry..."

She never wanted to let go, because she was so afraid he would slip away in the wind. So so afraid of losing him.

...

...they had to get away from here.

Not the island, not now, but...away from these people.

Her voice was reduced to a harsh whisper, but she held him close still, not wanting to give away her panic, her anxiety, her overwhelming stress as she tried to figure out what to do.

"Jack..."

A few short breaths, and she was ready. He had to be to. God help her, Jack had to be ready, because it was now or never.

"Jack...when I yell 'go', we run. We need to get away from them, if they find out you're...you don't have a team, then, I-I don't know what they'll do..."

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and held his head in her hands, trying to encourage a nod on his end.

"On my mark, we run."

Holly wrapped her arms around him once more, feigning once more a hug.

"One..."

They rotated on the spot, rocking. She could see the three of them now, the three people, including that girl, the one she wasn't sure if she'd be okay...

But it's all to help him. Jack. I love him, and we can work this out on our own.

"Two..."

Her arms fell from his shoulders, and she faced the three almost chronically distant figures. Her hand sneaked its way towards Jack's, and, milliseconds before she cut away the ties, clenched it tight.

"Three, go!"

She never let go.

They turned around, and they ran.

((Holly Hadaway and Jack Lemmon in You, The Living...))

((Slight GMing approved))
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
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Mungo
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For the umpteenth time Ben reminded himself of the requirements of the game. He had to speak. He had to try to be personable. Liking that word, he repeated it in his head. However, that failed to translate into any action. He remained silent after giving his greeting, hands rising before him only to fidget.

Alicia's words impressed him. He studied her then, though he'd be sure to glance away if she caught him looking. Her appearance alone was enough to tell him she was from Detroit. Probably like the girl he'd run away from shortly after waking up. Ben questioned whether running for cover was the sort of thing people regularly had to do in Detroit. He didn't know much about the place, though he imagined a gang ridden and economically dead war zone.

Then another person appeared, calling out a name. Ben just watched, attention diverted as the big guy with the black bandana started talking about armies and whatnot. Ben felt a stirring of unease at that smile. He knew he should try to muster his own in return, but his expression remained blank.

A series of events occurred in quick succession. It appeared Holly and this newcomer knew each other. They ran towards each other and Ben could only imagine the cliché romance scene with two people in a field of flowers. Barely a minute later and they were running away. Ben's brows knitted together, but still he said nothing.

So there he stood, with a stranger and a hulk. He could mimic Holly and turn heel and run. He'd only said a word, after all. Alicia had that big gun, though. Ben would feel a lot safer with someone who had some firepower and--if her comment was anything to go by--experience in, well, warfare. Of course, Ben knew alliances would only last until they found their teams. Not even to mention whether Alicia would consider such a thing. Especially when Ben appeared to have no weapons and wouldn't be revealing what he actually had. Then there was also the problem of whether she'd be agreeable to how he'd conducted himself thus far.

You're thinking too far ahead, Ben.

Ben breathed deeply then let it out. "Cover. Talking." He said. Searching about, he pointed to a grouping of trees where the beach met the plains. He mostly looked to Alicia, as if to ask: Good enough?
Edited by Mungo, Apr 20 2011, 10:11 PM.
Ben Grayson - Alive
PNK4: Gold Pretender
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MurderWeasel
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I can trick them into thinking anything
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Karen Ruiz continued from Greetings, Reality))

Karen hadn't taken any specific direction from the rain forest. At this moment, there was no point in it. No position was better than any other. Everywhere was dangerous, full of contestants, full of potential to catch a shot in the gut. Karen hadn't seen anyone since her would-be ambusher, but that wasn't making her feel better. She had moved fairly consistently, keeping a good pace, pausing only now and then to begin the process of transferring the contents from the pilfered backpack into her own.

First priority (and easiest) had been the first aid kit. Next, the food and drinks. She had stuffed all of the stolen food into the pockets of her coat, except the bread, which was too large to fit, and thus had been crushed into the backpack. The spare flashlight, too, had been stowed away. She made sure to keep it set up so the most important things (bullets) were on top, and the least useful (the clothes she still hadn't looked at) at the bottom.

At a glance, Karen had realized that the other clothes, the ones she had stolen, would be too tight on her. After examining the t-shirt and tank top, she hadn't even bothered with the rest of the stuff crushed into the bottom of the bag. She'd also found a condom, which did not make her feel much better about the island or the things people would be doing here. It drove home the need to establish a reputation as quickly as possible.

Two opponents. One, if she had gotten lucky earlier, but until the announcements she would have to assume she hadn't. Worst case, she picked up an extra mark.

She'd tried very, very hard not to think about the person she'd fired upon. Having the kill unconfirmed made her feel a lot better. For all she knew, she hadn't even gotten close to hitting the person. She'd felt like crying for a few minutes, but had pushed it down. Once she was safe, she could cry her eyes out. Until then, she had work to do.

She'd dropped the mostly-emptied backpack somewhere in the forest.

She'd briefly considered digging into her own bag, seeing if there was anything more appropriate to the weather in it, but she had resisted the impulse to take the time to even see what she had. She could find somewhere cooler later on, and hole up there, or could poke around for inconsequential things at night, when the others were resting.

So now, Karen was skirting the edge of the beach, sticking to the treeline. She held her Glock in her left hand. At one of her brief stops, she had switched the clips, putting the fully-loaded one into the gun. It already had a round chambered, which meant she had eighteen shots at the moment. The other clip had been reloaded. She absolutely did not want to run out of bullets during a firefight.

And now, slightly down the beach, she could see figures. Several of them. Two split off from the group and ran off, leaving three remaining, clustered. Karen was lurking under the cover of the vegetation, kneeling, hoping her coat would help keep her hidden. Her gun was now held in both hands, loosely pointed towards the others.

She could almost pick out something familiar about them. She could have sworn she'd seen at least one of them before, around school, in more than just a passing capacity. For the moment, though, that was irrelevant. She didn't know their armament, and they were too far away for her to have any confidence in the accuracy of a quick shot. She'd just wait for a bit, wait and see.

Two opponents.

And, if they were easy pickings, or if they came closer and didn't notice her, or if one of them just happened to fall into her primary target category...

Well, she had a reputation to build.

But on some level, she was hoping they wouldn't notice her. Hoping they'd go the other way. Hoping they weren't armed. Hoping this wouldn't go anywhere. Hoping she wouldn't have to fight.

Because her resolve, her plans, her earlier actions, were all just an effort to force down the horrible fear that she would die on this island. If they left, she could ignore them and play the victim for just a bit longer. Three on one was a bad way to do things anyways. This wasn't cowardice. It was strategy.

But no.

Two opponents. Things would happen as they happened, and she had to be ready for any opportunities.
Current characters:

The Program: V3 Prologue:
Mina Mashall - Digital Voice Recorder - Making a good impression - "I didn't know you felt so strongly about me."
Erik Bell - Jericho .941 - Having lunch - "May I?"

SECOND CHANCES: V2:
Assorted flora and fauna

SOTF-TV V2:
EW4: Jewel Evans - Chatterbox Communicator Headsets (0/5) - Online - ELIMINATED - "Scars are just reminders to be better next time."

Past characters:

If you want an honest assessment of your character's storyline, feel free to PM me and I'll whip one up as soon as I am able.

Thanks to Bear/Frogue/Kotorikun/Ryuki for the avatar art.
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