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It's not like its for real or anything, right?; Open
Topic Started: Nov 6 2011, 04:27 PM (4,263 Views)
Fiori
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Alrighty... Goggles? Check. Helmet? Check. Snowmobile? Check. iPod? Double check.

Lets do this...


Bruce Nightingale revved his snowmobile, his heart pounding as he looked over the edge of the snowy mountain he had found himself on top of.

How did he get up here? No idea. Not that it mattered. What DID matter though was the adrenaline that was already beginning to flow through his veins as he mentally prepared himself to do one of the most insanely stupid thing he'd ever done in his entire life. Which, considering the number of times Bruce had found himself in hospital, was saying a hell of a lot.

Most people by this point would chicken out and decide to do something more mundane with their spare time, like play video games or watching tv. Any sane person would realize by this point that riding down a steep mountain on your snowmobile was an incredibly stupid and dangerous thing to do. Anyone with the slightest hint of common sense would just call it quits and go home. But Bruce? Bruce lived for moments like this. There was nothing he loved more then the chance to outdo the last insane stunt he had pulled off. Well, successfully pulled off anyway, but the awesome feeling he felt whenever he pulled off a successful stunt was always more then enough to make up for the numerous times he screwed up.

And so, without giving it so much as a second thought, Bruce began to ride down the mountain.

He barely felt the cold as he twisted and turned on his snowmobile, dodging and weaving himself down the slope as fast-paced music played in the earphones he was wearing. His heart was pounding as the young Canadian found himself in an adrenaline rush unlike anything he'd ever experienced. This, without a doubt, was probably the greatest moment of his entire life.

Which was a shame that it had to end with taking a wrong turn and heading straight for a sudden drop into nothingness.

Oh SHIT!

With no time to waste, Bruce turned his snowmobile in an attempt to avoid going over the edge, only for it to cause the vehicle to skid along the icy surface of the mountain and tumble over. Before he knew it, Bruce and his snowmobile was rolling head over heels towards the edge of the precipice, the young Canadian knowing very well that unless he did something soon he would have more than a broken arm or leg to worry about.

And so, as he and his ride went over the edge together, Bruce stretched his arm out and grabbed a root that was poking out of the side of the precipice.

For a moment, he hung there, staring down into the inky abyss as his snowmobile fell out of sight. It was almost like he was hanging above a bottomless pit, with nothing but a pitch black darkness where the floor should be. To say that the entire experience was beginning to freak Bruce out would have been something of an understatement.

The fact that he was slowly losing his grip didn't help.

NonononononNO!

Eventually, the root gave away, and Bruce found himself falling.

"OH SHIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiii........"


It was at that point that he woke up.

The hell? Oh right, I had that dream again. God, why do I always end up falling off the same cliff every time?

The young Canadian stood up from where he was lying, his arm reaching out to grab his alarm clock to check what time it was, only for it to grab what felt like a small bag. It was at this point that it suddenly occurred to Bruce that he wasn't lying in his bed, or any bed for that matter. In fact, come to think of it, he back was beginning to ache after having slept on a hard wooden floor for so long.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, it quickly became evident that Bruce had found himself in a wagon of some description. Feeling curious, he crept over the the back and peaked through the entrance.

And sure enough, rather then the snowy plains of Canada, he found himself staring out at a vast desert.

Well... I'd say I'm not in Kansas anymore, but from all I know that could very well be where I am right not.

As he returned to his bag, the memories of what had happened began to come back to him. The train. The voice. His scared classmates. It was also at this point that he realized that he had a leather collar around his neck, one which he was hesitant to do anything about.

However, as he sat there pondering his next course of action, there was only one question on his mind about the situation he had found himself in...

...What?

Actually, come to think of it, he had a helluva lot of questions. What the heck was going on? Where was he? Who was that guy? Are they really meant to kill each other? Nah, that can't be right. Who the hell would want to do that to a bunch of kids? No, Bruce was willing to bet that this entire thing was either a prank or an elaborate LARPing game of some description. He remembered watching this video on YouTube where this guy managed to hypnotism someone and make them believe that they were being attacked by zombies, who in reality where guys in costumes. It was kinda awesome. And Bruce was almost certain that he was now taking part in the most elaborate prank ever to be put on television. Heh, I bet there must be a ton of cameras watching my every movement right now. Aw man, I can't wait until I get to see the footage when I get back!

First things first though, he had to check out what 'weapon' he'd been assigned. That's what the guy said, right? That they all got given their own weapons?

Well, sure enough, as he opened his bag, it took him approximately two seconds to find the rifle that had been stuffed inside. A great big sniper rifle from the sound of things too. Aww, sweet! This is fuckin' awesome! I mean, wow, this thing actually looks real! Probably the best damn airsoft gun I ever saw!

Man, I can't wait to test this thing out...
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Honestly, it could have been worse.

Which, okay, yeah, was a big fat lie, but it wasn't as if telling the blatant, honest truth would really get her anywhere at this point.

Harper took a long breath, head resting on her knees. She'd folded into the sitting fetal position pretty much two minutes after she'd woken up, which would mean she'd been awake for about seven minutes now. Seven minutes in which someone could have come up and killed her without a second thought or any serious repercussions.

No, her hands were not shaking. No, she was not hyperventilating. She was fine. Really. It wasn't as if she was stuck in a desperate situation over which she had no control and was permanently stuck, the only way out a dark and dangerous road she'd probably never walk down or anything. Nope. None of that.

Because, obviously, she was dreaming. Just. Obviously.

"Oh God, I'm gonna die." Harper sat straight up, eyes wide.

Fine. Totally fine.

She crawled, which was slightly pathetic and not nearly as adorable as it sounded, over to her bag, hands trembling as she tried to undo it. Water. They had to give her water. They weren't that inhumane, whoever they were. They may have stranded a bunch of teenagers in a weird outpost railroad station to kill themselves, but they weren't monsters.

Harper choked back a sob. "Fine. I'm fine." She reached into the bag, praying to find water. Instead, her hand hit something hard.

"Oh, lookit that, a hammer." She tried to pull out the mallet, which landed on the ground with a loud thunk. "Big hammer. Nice, big hammer. Which is completely useful, because I'm going to blacksmith things, and not kill people, because no one is dying and Oh God."

Another sob escaped her lips. Harper ignored it. "I. Am. Fine. This is fine."

She stared at the mallet for a moment, nodding stupidly to herself.

"Yes. A totally useful item for when I make my horseshoes."

Some sort of bird in the distance skawked.

"Fine!" Harper scream-shrieked back. "I'm fine!"

Slowly, she curled back up into a ball and buried her face in her hands.

Yeah, it could totally be worse.
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Woah Jesus, what the hell was that?!?

Bruce swerved around and nearly opened fire as he heard someone shriek nearby

He looked puzzled for the moment, unsure about whether or not they had been referring to him or not. After all, he wasn't exactly sure how anyone could see him inside this wagon unless his shadow was visible or something, so unless there was a third person out there he hadn't the slightest idea who this person was talking to.

What Bruce did realise though was that this meant that he was no longer alone. And there was a good chance that this person would want to take him out the moment they realised where he was. That is, they would PRETEND that they're trying to take him out, seeing as he was pretty damn sure this was just one big joke. Hell, she (Bruce was fairly sure it was a girl) was probably in on it the whole time. On the other hand, she could also be as clueless as he was just moments ago. She might even believe that they really were instructed to kill each other.

Either way, Bruce was determined to take the stealthy approach rather than make himself an obvious target. No way he was going get kicked out of this game THAT easily! Gotta be sneaky. Sneaky like a ninja. A good ninja that is, not the sucky kind.

With this in mind, after making sure the coast was clear, Bruce sneaked out of the wagon and dived onto the sandy floor, crawling along in the voice's direction. Ever so often, he would get up and hide behind the odd barrel or crate before resuming his crawl. All the while, the young Canadian couldn't help but quietly hum the theme to Metal Gear Solid to himself. Funnily enough, the thought that this might draw attention to him never really came to mind, although deep down Bruce was almost certain that he wasn't in any real danger. For the most part, he was just messing around as usual.

Eventually, after peaking around the corner of the wooden building he had found himself beside, he could see the girl who had been shrieking earlier facing the train tracks. Harper Morgan to be exact. Phew, its just her. And here I thought I was in danger...

He pondered his options for a moment, unsure as to whether or not he should say hi or something. He could always just leave her be and act like nothing happened, but that seemed a little pointless. The idea of pretending to hold her at gunpoint for a laugh popped up briefly, but he quickly shook it aside. That'd be a major dick move anyway.

Hmm, guess I may as well say hi before she notices I'm here anyway...

And so, without giving it so much as a second thought, Bruce stepped out from where he was hiding and waved his free hand as the other held onto his sniper rifle.

"Hey. How you doing?"
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Harper's deep breathing exercises were not actually helping. They sort of shuddered and wheezed halfway through the exhale, and her legs were cramping a bit from curling into the fetal position. Not to mention the fact that she was getting dirt in her hair, which was ridiculously uncomfortable. She figured she'd have to get up eventually, get up and face the fact that this was probably not a dream, and that she was very much "Not Fine."

The opportunity came when a voice rang out.

Harper sucked in a surprised breath, and shot up out of her position, causing her neck to crick. Her hand flew to it, wincing. "Well. Ow."

Slowly, she turned to the voice. Standing in front of her was Bruce Nightingale. Which wasn't actually all that bad, considering that Harper liked Bruce. It was bad, however, because Bruce was holding what appeared to be some sort of gun. A big sort of gun. A big scary-shooty-gun. Harper squeaked again, staring at it. Her eyes shot up to Bruce, who was waving.

Don't point out the gun. Maybe it's like dinosaurs. If you don't acknowledge it, it won't hurt you.

And, well, Bruce really didn't look like he was going to hurt her, honestly. Maybe he was going to use his gun to hunt things (non human things), like she was going to use her hammer to become a blacksmith.

Yes. That made sense.

"Hi Bruce. You know. I'm good. A little. Uh. Shaken. But. Yeah. Good." Harper was dimly aware that she might have been hyperventilating, but that was ridiculous because she was totally and utterly calm, because Bruce was not going to shoot her in the face. Her eyes shot back down the gun. She smiled. It may have looked a bit like her teeth were made of glass and that smiling caused her extreme pain, but it was still a smile, and wasn't it the thought that counted.

"How are you? Enjoying the day? It's lovely out." She gestured vaguely to the sky. "There are birds."

She blinked and swallowed, nodding and totally not panicking at all. "I like birds."

It was at this point that Harper figured she might have been better off not talking at all.
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((Amelia Lennon continued from Ranch Hands))

Amelia wasn’t sure how but even with a huge-ass pickaxe weighing her down, she’d still managed to arrive at the Trading Post ahead of Martha and Trevor. Admittedly, she did spend most of her life outside, and she’d been rushing slightly, but still, Martha actually played a sport, and had a much lighter weapon. Maybe they’re just following the girl with the map? Eh, as long as we’re sticking together...

The first thing Amelia saw as she neared the trading post was a set of iron train tracks. For reasons even she wasn’t entirely sure of, Amelia knelt down to examine them closer. Huh. Yeah, wow, after closer examination, I can in fact confirm that these are indeed train tracks. Amelia shook her head, and stood up, looking to the left and right of the tracks. To the right was nothing but an endless stretch of desert. To the right, however, Amelia saw a collection of wagons, as well as a medium sized building she guessed was the trading post itself.

Amelia looked back the way she’d come. There were two figures getting closer every second, which she guessed were Trevor and Martha. She hoped that they could see her two. Although, even if they didn’t, it was pretty obvious where the trading post was, and she had been the one to suggest going there. Nonetheless, just to make sure, Amelia waved at the two to get their attention, then started to follow the train tracks towards the wagons.

The walk from the ranch, combined with the sweltering heat and heavy pickaxe had sapped almost all of the strength from Amelia. She was struggling to keep hold of the pickaxe, and had resorted to dragging it occasionally. Thankfully, the walk to the wagons was much shorter, but Amelia still felt as if her arms were being pulled out of their sockets, and she was far too sweaty for her liking. As soon as she reached the closest wagon, she threw off her bag, dropped her pickaxe, and pretty much just fell to the ground, welcome for a chance to rest. In hindsight, jogging probably wasn’t a good idea...

Amelia reached over to her bag, opened it, and dug around inside it for the canteen of water she’d seen earlier, when she was getting her map. She found it, and took a good, long drink from it. The water tasted odd, slightly metallic, but for Amelia at the moment, it was the best thing she’d ever drunk-well, almost. She knew that she’d have to conserve water for now; who knew what kind of chemicals and stuff were in the river? Amelia was still way too hot though, so she removed her cardigan and tied it round her waist. It was then that she heard a voice from nearby. Talking about birds. Huh.

Stretching slightly, Amelia stood up, and looked to see whether Martha and Trevor had arrived yet. She still couldn’t see them. Maybe they’ve taken a different route? Amelia couldn’t wait for them forever; the person who’d just spoken might have left by the time they’d arrived. So Amelia picked up her pickaxe, just in case the person was hostile, and rounded the corner of the caravan. She could see someone, standing next to the train tracks, someone she recognised. Harper Morgan was nice, if slightly sheltered. Amelia knew her father disapproved of the type of music Amelia listened to. She was pretty certain Harper would be a good ally, so she walked towards her, as fast as a pickaxe would let her, shouting “Hey, Harper! You okay?” as she did so.

As Amelia got closer however, she saw who it was Harper had been talking to, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Normally, she’d have been glad to see Bruce. The guy was always amusing to watch whenever he performed an especially dangerous stunt, and they shared the same tasted in music. However, no matter how much you like someone, you’re pretty much always going to be wary of them if they’re holding a sniper rifle. Amelia felt her grip on the pickaxe tighten.

“Oh! Uh... hey Bruce!” Amelia said, voice still fairly cheerful but with a definite hint of nervousness in it. “You’re, uh... you’re not thinking of firing that, are you?”

God, I hope Martha and Trevor come along soon...
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((Martha Stock continued from Ranch Hands))

Martha watched Amelia walk ahead of her and Trevor. She didn't know if Amelia always walked that fast or if the pickaxe was making her overcompensate in terms of speed, but Martha was not going to walk that fast in the heat. It was a good way to get tired and that was a bad idea. She bent down to check something, which Martha could only assume were train tracks. After doing this she turned and waved at Martha and Trevor before walking off behind some caravans and out of view. She was heading towards the trading post so Martha decided it would be fine to follow her.

"Amelia's found a good place to check the trading post from." She told Trevor before speeding up to try and catch up to Amelia. She looked down when she reached where Amelia had stopped.

Huh, guess there were train tracks.

She turned but couldn't see Amelia because of the caravans. As she got closer to them though she started to hear muffled voices talking. She couldn't make out what they were saying or who they were but it was easy to discern Amelia's shout was easy to notice.

"Hey Harper! You okay?"


Well that must mean Harper is over there.

Harper was a friendly person, easy to get on with, she would be a good person to have in their group. It would be good to have people who are easy to talk too. It would reduce the amount of arguments that could potentially occur. That still did not explain the other voice that was talking before Amelia had started shouting. It had gone quiet on the other side of the caravan and it was unnerving. Had something happened to Amelia? Had Harper just attacked her? Martha knew that couldn't be right because she hadn't heard any screams or sounds of a fight and she really doubted that Harper could overpower Amelia effortlessly.

Martha adjusted her pack so that it sat more comfortably on her back and took hold of her shovel in two hands. She was getting ready to move from her hiding place behind the caravan when she heard Amelia's muffled voice again. She relaxed and let go of the shovel with her left hand. Deciding it would be best to take a much more relaxed approach then she originally thought she would need, Martha walked around the caravan with the shovel held over one shoulder. But like Amelia before her she was caught off guard by what she saw.

Bruce Nightingale had a sniper rifle in his hands.

Oh...shit.

"Err...Hey Harper...Bruce. How are you guys?" Martha would be lying to herself if she didn't find the situation she was in slightly scary. But Bruce hadn't shot anyone yet. So that was a plus. Martha was starting to enjoy her luck. Out of everyone in their class she had managed to meet up with some of the easiest people to get along with and they had all had some form of useful weapon and now she had met someone who had a gun. To say things were going badly would have been amazingly unfair to the situation considering how she had thought it was originally going to end. Now all she had to do was convince Harper and Bruce to join the group. But the way the game was set out meant that it would be hard to judge how people would react. For now a simple hello would be fine.
Edited by Deamon, Jul 26 2012, 02:51 PM.
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"Amelia's found a good place to check the trading post from."
The words reached him rapidly, much like how Martha was running. Trevor picked up the pace a bit, nearly managing to catch up to Martha before she stopped. It was tiring a bit, but hey, he had to do what he had to do. Trevor would have asked why they stopped, but quickly, his ears caught wind of some voices. One of them called another Harper. "Huh... so Harper's over there, eh?" he whispered. His interactions with her were rather brief, usually consisting of a hand wave. But on the bright side, she was nice. He decided to get a better look at the group nearby via peering around the caravans. A third person was in sight, a person by the name of Bruce Nightingale. Again, very low interactions with him. Just then, he noticed that Martha started moving towards the others. Instinctively, he followed along. His sack was somewhat on his back in a stable position, while his knife was still in hand. It was at this point that he saw Bruce's rifle.
"Greeeeeaaaat..." he said to himself. He then cleared his throat loudly. "Sorry to intrude, but hello there."
Edited by widespreadinman, Nov 24 2011, 12:49 AM.
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(Rebecca Clark continued from Horror Business)

Rebecca had kept going through those shrubs for awhile. Stunted trees, stupid bushes, the whole "hey it's really fucking annoying" business. The black jeans had been a bad decision. It was hot out, and not the "it's a bit warm", but the "it's really hot and you're from Canada."

She had eventually left the forest and followed a set of train tracks until she spotted a building a short distance away. Sure, Vivian or Brian may have followed her. Vivian she minded, Brian not so much. But a building would be nice, shade and all that.

As she got closer she could see people near it. Okay time to hang back and check this out, don't want to be too stupid.
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Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as Harper reacted his greeting in a distinctly peculiar way. She didn't seem too frightened of him, but he couldn't help but notice something odd about the way she spoke.

"Uh, yeah, birds are kinda cool I guess..." he replied, rubbing the back of his head with the barrel of his gun.

"Say, uh, you SURE you're feeling alrigh-"

Just then, one... No, two. Make that THREE people all arrived pretty much at once. Whilst he was a little taken back at first, Bruce quickly got over it as his goofy grin returned. After all, it wasn't as if anyone here was particularly dangerous. And even if they were, he happened to be the one with the gun! Speaking of which, someone seemed to be asking him about it.

"What, oh this thing? Pretty awesome, huh?" he said as he started examining the rifle, acting as though it was nothing more than an expensive toy.

"I mean, wow. This almost looks as though it's the real deal... I wonder who made it?"
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Bruce was looking at her strangely, and Harper felt herself cringe. Okay, time to be up front- she was panicking. Panicking was, she figured, an entirely useless practice. All it would do is lead to more panicking, and all that would lead too was someone sneaking up on her and...well, bad things happening. Harper was very much not ready to let that happen.

Before she could assure Bruce that she'd more than most likely, probably be okay, another voice cracked through the air.

Amelia. Well, that was good. Harper rather liked Amelia. And, again, Amelia seemed to be concerned for her well-being, which was a good sign, because Harper couldn't figure out why you would care about the mental state of someone you were about to kill. Logically, it was silly.

Of course, Amelia did not have the panicking-Harper notion of not pointing out the gun in Bruce's hands. Harper cringed again, and decided just not to answer Amelia's first question. The attention wasn't on her, and Harper preferred it that way. Let daredevil Bruce and his sniper rifle take the spotlight.

Amelia was not alone, as Harper soon found out when Trevor and Martha joined up. The attention was, naturally, put straight onto Bruce's gun. Harper took the opportunity to stand up and brush herself off. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. She needed a second to herself, anyways.

Bruce didn't even seem to realize that killing people was an option in this game, and was looking at his gun with a rather fascinated gleam in his eye. Harper felt like it was safe to assume that Bruce wouldn't be turning against anyone in the immediate company anytime soon, and she let out a small sigh of relief at that.

Harper glanced around her surroundings, trying to get a bit of a baring for where she was. It was hot, that was for sure, and very desert-like. Of course, she'd be lost to guess where exactly she was, and even more lost to try and find a way to communicate with the outside world.

Stuck then. Which is fine. Totally fine. Do not panic. Listen to the birds. They are nice birds.

Out of the corner of her eye, Harper thought she saw a shadow, but when she turned there was nothing there. She blinked, remembering that she never actually drank any water earlier.

She bent down to trifle through the bag and pull out a canteen of water. Gently she took a sip, and as she swallowed she noticed for the first time something around her neck. She glanced up and saw that the others were wearing it too- some sort of leather dog collars.

Harper really didn't want to find out what they did. She vaguely remembered the voice on the train saying that they were not good news. She agreed with him wholeheartedly, and decided that breaking the rules was not in her near future.

She dropped her canteen back in her bag and stood up again, surveying the people around her. She wondered if it was possible to slink into the shadows and just vanish.

She sighed, knowing it would be useless. She'd just find more people anyways, and those ones might not be as friendly.

Instead, Harper resigned herself to not saying anything. The quieter she was, the more she could slip under the radar, and that was as good a strategy as she could think of.

She glanced at the blacksmith hammer laying near her bag.

Keeping quiet? Definitely the best strategy there is.
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It was only ten or so seconds at the most until Martha and Trevor arrived at the site of the wagons, but to Amelia, it felt like a lifetime. She just stood there, stock still, hands now gripping the pickaxe so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Harper was silent too, looking ridiculously awkward and scared. The feeling of safety that Amelia had gained when she’d joined with Martha and Trevor had vanished now that a gun had been thrown into the equation. There was no telling what would happen now.

And then Martha and Trevor turned up, and time decided to go at its normal pace again. Amelia realised she’d been holding her breath, and quickly exhaled. Her two allies had both reacted similarly to how she had at the sight of Bruce’s gun. To Amelia’s surprise, Bruce himself didn’t seem to have realised just how tense everyone else was.

“What, oh this thing? Pretty awesome, huh?”

Amelia could only stare and blink at him. Huh. Well, uh. Not exactly the response I was expecting. To add to Amelia’s confusion, Bruce started examining the rifle, as if it was some expensive, shiny new birthday present. His hands veered dangerously close to the trigger a couple of times, causing Amelia to flinch, anticipating the worst. Then he started talking again, mentioning just how realistic it looked.

Well, yeah. It looks realistic because it is real, duh. Unless...

Amelia looked at Martha and Trevor with concern, before looking back at Bruce and speaking. “Wait, uh, are you saying that this Sherriff person gave you a fake gun or something?”

Basically, the way Amelia saw the situation, there were two distinct possibilities that had occurred. Numero Uno, the one Amelia hoped had happened, was that Bruce had actually received a fake, or toy, gun, and was trying to remain cheerful. Numero Dos, the much less favourable possibility, was that Bruce had been given an actual, real-life, fully functioning sniper rifle, and had no idea what was actually going on.

Huh. Now, who does that remind me of?

If it was the latter, then Bruce was a liability at the moment. He could wander off into the desert and try and do something to his collar. Amelia still had no idea what they were for, but she was certain that tampering with them was a seriously bad idea.

Amelia saw Harper move out of the corner of her eye, and in her nervous state, whipped round to look at her, pickaxe raised slightly higher. Thankfully, Harper was just drinking from her canteen. Amelia sighed with relief, then turned back to Bruce. She had an idea.

“Okay, Bruce? I’ve got a theory, and I need you to test it out. Point the rifle at one of those wagons, and pull the trigger, okay? Just... trust me on this.”

This could go seriously wrong. But we need to convince him that this isn’t some sort of game, and I doubt everyone’d be as instantly trusting as I was...
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(sorry folks turns out I have another scene to get to)

Rebecca stood back, the people were talking. She looked through her pack and found a map. A map? Yeah a fuckin map. She unfolded it and took a look. Okay, there was the trading post where she was now. And there was a forest and the creek where she woke up.

Wait. There was a town, that would be good. There was a river between here and there, but that would be okay, she'd get there.

Time to get moving.

(Rebecca Clark continued in How Not To Meet)
Edited by Courtography, Dec 4 2011, 03:44 AM.
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As soon as Trevor saw Amelia point towards a wagon, he thought she sold them out... but then her voice mentioned something about testing out his weapon. Though he sighed, Trevor couldn't help but worry that Amelia really wanted to off him for some reason. He then shook his head, focusing on what they were trying to do...
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(Sorry about the lateness, been a busy few days and didn't get a change to get to a computer.)

Wow...that's a big gun.

The thought that someone would have a gun had entered Martha's mind before but she had expected handguns, not a massive rifle. Bruce either didn't seem to realise how dangerous the gun was or didn't see anything wrong with waking up in what was practically the wild west with a gun that could blow a hole in someone. It was slightly worrying. Amelia glanced in her direction before speaking to Bruce.

“Wait, uh, are you saying that this Sherriff person gave you a fake gun or something?”

That could explain why he was so relaxed around it. He already knew it was a fake and couldn't kill anybody. He could either be planning to use it as a deterrent or as a way of blackmail. No one with a brain would argue with the person who had a gun after all. After Amelia was done speaking Harper started to move around. Martha could see Amelia tense, she was nervous because of the gun and the idea of something bad happening had her on edge, Martha could tell. As it turned out Harper was just getting a drink, but the possibility for more guns was always there. Martha kept watching Harper because she couldn't see her weapon. As she did she saw Harper glance at something, it looked like a mallet of some kind.

Must be her weapon.

“Okay, Bruce? I’ve got a theory, and I need you to test it out. Point the rifle at one of those wagons, and pull the trigger, okay? Just... trust me on this.”

Martha's attention snapped back to Amelia and Bruce. She was going to make him shoot the wagon, that much was obvious. It was clearly to test if the gun was real or fake. Martha moved away from the wagon, close to Amelia but made sure to keep Bruce in her vision. This was a good idea. Once they had established if the gun was real or not they could get to the important task of seeing if Harper and Bruce wanted to join them. It would be especially important to get Bruce to join them if the gun worked.

"I think you should Bruce. I mean you wouldn't want to find out it wasn't real when your life was in danger."

Stay calm and make sure to be friendly. Otherwise you could get shot.

"If the gun turns out to be real try and remain calm." She whispered to Amelia. "It'll be easier to convince them to join us if we don't freak out."
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Casey the Undead
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((Since Jamie doesn't come back for another few days, and I'm pushing inactivity, and this thread is a little bit deadish, I'm just gonna go ahead and skip.))

Harper stared at Amelia for a minute. There was something about her plan that unsettled Harper, causing a fluttering twitch of nerves in her stomach. The part of the plan that did this was, of course, the fact that it required Bruce actually shooting his gun.

Right off the bat, there were about a thousand things Harper thought about that made this plan a ridiculously bad idea. For one, there was the fact that Harper was pretty sure there were easier ways to check if a gun was real or not. And then there was the fact that, if it was fake, it meant that the upperhand was totally up in the air, and who knew what the others would do once they found out no one could shoot them? Not to mention that if it was real, Bruce could just take it and blow them all away; maybe they were only alive because he didn't realize he could even hurt them yet. And, of course, if someone else just happened to wander across them shooting into the distance it could be interpreted badly, and then there'd be a fight and people would get hurt, and Harper and her stupid blacksmithing abilities would be entirely useless. And probably more than a little dead.

Yes, there were about seven million reasons why Harper very much disliked this plan, but Harper didn't say a single one of them. Because it wasn't like anyone would listen, one, and two, she didn't really want to be a bother about it. Maybe they were seeing something she wasn't seeing, how could she know?

Slowly, Harper sighed. "I don't think this is a good idea guys. But, uh. Whatever." She looked away, edging towards the left of the group. "Shoot if you want, I'll just be...over here."

Harper figured that the probability of slipping away unnoticed was pretty much nil. She sighed again and stared at her feet, wondering what the hell she'd gotten into.
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