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Greetings, Reality; Private. Oh yeah, I went there.
Topic Started: Apr 19 2011, 04:22 AM (947 Views)
Namira
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Paint me like one of your Sith girls
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Nate Chauncey: Start))

*click* *clack* *clack*

Small little boxes, that was what they were, really. Metal compartments... Death inside...

Natalie 'Nate' Chauncey lay on her stomach on the forest floor, one hand propping up her head, entirely uncaring of the dirt she was getting all over her. Her bandana sat loosely on her head, tipped so far to one side it almost obscured her left eye. Her free hand... played.

Magazines, they were called. Little boxes of bullets. Row after row after row of them. Nate had found so many of the little metal objects in her pack that she had been astonished, had rooted through the bag until she'd pulled out every last one, along with the booklet calling itself an instruction manual. This, perhaps, was one thing she couldn't self-teach. It wasn't what was on her mind, though.

Even in a situation like this, Nate's attention span just couldn't stay focused.

Her daypack was aways off, behind her, somewhere. It wasn't going to grow legs and wonder off or anything. Nate's eyes clouded briefly, contemplating a walking backpack, noted it as something she should draw someday, then instantly forgot about it. She was preoccupied. Stacking her ammunition. Making shapes, pyramids, little structures, all out of the compartments containing what was supposed to deal death.

They gave her an awful lot of them...

Made more complicated patterns viable. That was good, interesting.

She'd deal with this... later. Yes, later. No need to worry about ...this.

Nate frowned, briefly, knocked over the stack of magazines, cleared the area in front of her, started constructing once again.

*click* *clack* *click*...
~*~

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MurderWeasel
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I can trick them into thinking anything
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Karen Ruiz continued from But She Locked the Door and Threw Away the Key))

Two opponents.

It sounded like such an easy proposition.

Karen was still in the rain forest. It had been less than ten minutes since she'd gotten moving. In that time, she had bounced the idea around and around in her brain, trying it on for size, attempting to adjust to her new identity. She was going to be a killer. Not a monster. Not a murderer. She was acting out of self defense. They were all enemies now. One person would walk out of this. All she was doing was giving herself a leg up.

She still wasn't entirely convinced.

It didn't matter. The other thing occupying her mind was a total awareness of everything around her. The sounds of the forest, the dirt beneath her feet, the slight breeze, the flow of her coat. Karen was good at being observant. It was a survival skill in the battlefield that was urban life. It was what kept her from getting mugged on her way to school. It was what stopped her from getting beaten up by the bullies or antagonized by the cliques. Karen noticed things, and she blended in.

Right now, she wasn't doing such a great job of the latter. Her coat was dark, which was good, though somewhat less than ideal in the heat and light of the day. She wasn't taking it off, though. Absolutely not. Her turtleneck was also ridiculously warm, much to her chagrin. She'd already given up on the gloves, stuffing them into one of her pockets. This was going to be trying, no doubts about it.

She was comforted, though, by the weight of the gun in her hand. She kept her finger off the trigger, to avoid accidental discharges. The safety was off. She was pretty sure it would remain that way throughout her stay on the island. Better safe than dead.

She had no real direction, was wandering at random. She'd find someone, though. Sooner or later, she'd find someone.

There.

She blinked. A bag. A pack, lying by a bush. No. This was too soon. She wasn't ready.

She hefted the Glock.

Someone was nearby. There was a decent possibility it was a trap. She'd have to be very, very careful. If it wasn't, though; if she had happened upon a student who hadn't woken up yet, who was still getting their bearings...

Two opponents.

Quick. Clean. Simple.

She'd do what she had to.

Then she'd be safe.

Karen headed towards the pack. Her finger slid along the gun, to rest on the trigger.
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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Namira
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Paint me like one of your Sith girls
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Nate finished her latest construction. Another pyramid, taller this time, many of the magazines propped up on their sides rather than lying flat. It was almost like a house of cards, although obviously a little sturdier than that. She smiled at the creation for a few seconds, resting her chin on both hands, then she started to hum a tune to herself. It was fabricated, a little formless, although it had a pleasant melody. For some reason, no lyrics were forthcoming.

That was unsettling. Usually Natalie could come up with them at the flip of a dime, though it was only occasionally they actually made sense. Even so... a sudden inability to get anything out...

The smile slid off Nate's face. For a second or so, her expression was almost serious. This... this wasn't really the time for songs, not now. Apart from those dark emo ones where everyone was dying and crying blood and stuff like that, of course. ...Eh she could probably rustle up one or two of those, given the chance. Nate wasn't really in the mood for that, though.

Her face turned morose and she listlessly removed the bottom magazine from the stack, causing the entire structure collapse with a loud clattering. Suddenly, this didn't seem so much fun anymore.

Nate turned her attention to the forest around her. Not trying to look out for anyone, rather just appreciate her surroundings. At noon, there were plenty of sounds in the rainforest. A lot of animals around. Bugs, snakes, maybe, perhaps monkeys. All kinds, more than likely. Maybe not anything too lethal, they probably wouldn't want the wildlife killing anyone. That thought was brushed aside though as Nate tuned into the sounds of the forest, actually managing to relax herself once again.

After a few moments of that, her characteristically dreamy smile returned.
~*~

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MurderWeasel
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I can trick them into thinking anything
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Karen was inching closer, little by little, ready for the boot to drop. No way this was going to be this simple. Something was wrong. Something was twisted here. She was closing in on the bag. It held the answers. If its owner was still unconscious, the bandanna would still be inside. Otherwise, Karen would need to be ready for immediate action.

Two opponents.

Karen was not ready for immediate action. She was not ready to kill. That didn't matter, though. She was going to live. That meant she'd have to do things she wasn't ready for. She would never be ready to kill. No one sane would be. They'd all do it anyways, if they wanted to survive. She was getting closer, closer. Any second now, things would come to a head.

Then there came the crash. Karen instantly froze into rigidity. Ambush. She was right. She was going to be trapped and killed. But, even after a few seconds, no attack came, and, exhaling slowly as the adrenaline rush began to fade, Karen realized something: her gambit had paid off. She was early. Her opponent hadn't noticed her yet. Her foe had made noise, and then, assuming that no one was around, had just quieted down and returned to lying in wait. They didn't know Karen was here.

She paused. This was it. The moment of truth. The instant in which she set her path.

No turning back after this.

It crashed down on her. She was about to take a life. About to kill someone, not even giving them the chance to fight back. This wasn't just a game. This was taking someone else's existence into her hands. Her aunt wouldn't approve. Her brother would be sickened, assuming anyone told him. He didn't watch TV very much, because it made him upset, and he tended to overtax himself when he was angry.

Karen's coworkers were probably watching her. Her classmates, too, the ones who were spared this fate, though in all likelihood none of them even knew her.

Her choice came back again. It wasn't too late to return to obscurity. It wasn't too late to go hide. She'd be a victim, true, but maybe she could tide things out. Maybe her alleged teammates would finish things up, and she'd only have to kill one of them.

She pulled the trigger.

The kick, the recoil and jerk on her wrists, was utterly unlike anything she'd been prepared for. Luckily, she had read the manual enough to have a rough idea of the right way to hold the gun. She still nearly dropped it.

She took a breath, steadied her hands, and pulled the trigger again.

The gun had been aimed in the direction the sound had come from. She couldn't see into the bush from her angle, but that was okay. She was just keeping the ambusher's head down. Keeping them too busy to launch a counterattack.

She darted forwards, pulling the trigger a third time.

The animal life in the forest was in an uproar. The peace was shattered. Everyone nearby would know something was going down.

Karen looped her arm through the strap of the pack on the ground, the bait set for her. Even if she didn't finish her opponent, she'd at least be up on supplies, and her foe deprived of them. All the better to last things out once her reputation was safely established.

A quick glance revealed a shape in the bushes. The other student. Thin. Karen didn't have time to see any more detail.

She leveled the gun, and pulled the trigger a fourth time.

Then a fifth.

And then she was gone, running as quickly as she could, the extra pack swinging awkwardly from her arm. She couldn't say if she'd hit. Aiming and controlling the gun was much more difficult than she'd imagined. She had no intentions of sticking around for a counterattack, though. She was playing this smart. She had spare supplies. She potentially had a mark to her name. She didn't need anything more.

It was time to get out of this rain forest.

Karen didn't know it, but she had just fired the first shots of the season.

((Karen Ruiz continued in Lucidity))
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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Namira
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Paint me like one of your Sith girls
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Nate tapped her fingers on one of the magazines idly as she listened out, the drumming making a rhythmic series of sounds. Her eye was drawn away from the trees for a few seconds, focusing for the first time, really, on the ammunition truly AS ammunition. There was an awful lot of them... did that mean they'd simply dumped a whole bunch of ammo on her and then not actually given her a weapon?

She considered that possibility. She also wasn't sure if she particularly minded, not just yet. This whole situation... hadn't quite hit home with Nate. Whether or not she was armed seemed an abstract curiosity, a sideshow from this intruiging new environment that she found herself in. That and Nate's usual thought patterns, the ones that never quite followed the same rails as anybody else's, they were the prime distraction from more or less anything.

The artist was probably one of the few people capable of interrupting herself with her own thoughts.

Which, at long last, were themselves interrupting by a sharp, firecracker-like bang. Nate jolted out of her reverie at the harsh, misplaced sound, snapping up into a kneeling position like a startled bird. Her eyes were wide, straining and her head whirled from side to side, trying to locate where the sound had come from. It took her another couple of seconds to realise that it had probably been a gun.

A until the next shot to realise that somebody was firing at her.

Nate yelped, hitting the deck again, something, she could have sworn, tearing through the bushes around her. She scrambled along the ground, through the dirt as that deafening sound echoed through the air again, tearing through the tranquility Natalie had so enjoyed just a few minutes earlier.

The flash of a long coat in the bushes, whipping in the air in a blur of motion.

Another gunshot.

Another.


Then...

nothing.

Was it over?

H...had she been hit?

Slowly, tentatively, Nate explored her body with her hands, running them from her feet all the way up to the top of her head, even sliding underneath the black bandana she wore to snag fingers in her tangled hair.

...Whoever that had been, they'd missed.

Nate cast around herself, looking to see if the mystery attacker was still in the vicinity and just waiting for their chance. But... they'd been so aggressive, fired so many times... why would they suddenly play it stealthy? In any case... Nate couldn't see or hear any movement around the place, so...

"Lo there," Nate murmured.

Propped against a tree was the weapon she had been wondering about being absent. It was a couple of feet long, aesthetically ... not pretty, but just cool. Nate crawled towards it, still a little bit rattled to be steady on her feet. Reaching out, Nate took the rifle in her hands, cradled it. The gun didn't weigh too much, that was a plus, Certainly wasn't something that Nate was used to carrying around, but she didn't think she was going to collapse from exhaustion either. She turned around and walked back to where she'd been stacking the magazines. Luckily, they were all still present and correct, she hadn't scattered them too far.

Leaning down, Natalie crammed the little boxes into her pockets with some difficulty. Her jeans were pretty form-fitting, emphasising her slenderness, but the pockets were deep at least. Eventually, Natalie managed to pack all of the magazines to her satisfaction. The manual was next, she tucked that into her belt. A little uncomfortable maybe, but hey... only temporary.

And that was when Nate realised she couldn't see where she'd put her bag. That was... weird. She'd only left it a little way off to the side, underneath that bush over...

Oh. Oh damn.

Well... this was off to a good start.

Disheartened, Nate picked a random direction and started walking.

((Nate Chauncey continued in Candy From Strangers))
~*~

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