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Duck, You Sucker!
Topic Started: Mar 30 2012, 03:51 PM (1,254 Views)
Jadedflames
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Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
((Simon Mattheson continued from Scrambled Egg))

Simon had been walking for a good part of the day, moving along the water. Where there is water, there is bound to be life.

And you will fix that, won't you, Simon?

Yes.

Because there is nothing more important than you winning the game.

Yes.

Not Cameo.

Yes.

Not some misguided vendetta against Sycanus.

Yes.

They're all going to die.

Yes.

The stream wound into a creek, which turned into a river, soon the rapids were rushing along, tossing small jets of spray into the air. Far into the distance, Simon saw the bridge, with its two levels, spaning the bridge at its widest point. He knelt behind a shrub briefly to make sure there was no one on the bridge he needed to deal with first. Seeing it was clear, he moved up to it. He was on the wrong side of the river. He needed to get to somewhere with more people. Somewhere like the town. He had remembered something about the town in the last role call, but it seemed distant, unimportant.

Nothing can harm you Simon, just hunt them all down.

Of course. If course. It's the right thing to do. The ONLY thing to do!

Simon mounted the lower of the twin bridges, and began to cross. The bridge seemed quite sturdy, despite its apparent age. He moved across slowly, he knew how exposed he was. Simon glanced at the top bridge, seeing the sun peek through the railway ties.

*CRACK*

Simon gasped, and was suddenly dropped to one knee. He looked down at the pain in his left leg, and saw a jagged hole where the bridge had been. Beneath this hole, was his foot, seemingly just inches above the rushing rapids. Blood was dripping down his leg, and he saw a heavy wooden bridge fragment sticking out of his calf, disappearing into the meaty muscle. He could not tell how bad it was from above, and yanked at his leg, but it was caught tight in the wood. He grabbed his gun and began hammering at the wood, trying to make it splinter more, but made little impact on the timbers.
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Katie Tanaka continued from Bring Me the Head of Simon Mattheson and temporal paradoxes))

The three walked along.

The snake meat was delicious. She had just wished it was a bit more... well, cooked and prepared. But it reminded Katie of chicken. The texture, the juices, the overall taste... it was eerily similar. It was probably the best time she got an excuse to say something tasted like chicken, really. But she didn't regret eating it too much. At least killing it had a point in the end?

And, well, she did feel slightly more alert now that she had something in her. The only thing that could have made the snake more delicious was if they had managed to cook it properly.

But oh. The images of her dead classmates stuck with her. Sycanus with a slit throat, many of them shot.... she almost upchucked at the memory. She didn't want to cry, but she did feel... well, she didn't feel so good.

She kept trying to tell herself it was the reason why she had to track down everyone. Why she had to get justice. Why she had to stop Simon, and Rebecca, and Delilah.

For Warren. For Ramona. For Patrick. For Pepper. For Vienna. For all her classmates.

Justice.

She still didn't want to hurt them after talking to Jacqueline. But she knew it was the one thing she had to do. And yet... it hurt remembering that those murderers used to be her classmates. That she would have to fight them. That they had done something unforgivable. That they were turning into something awful.

In short, it hurt, but the only way to make it stop hurting that she knew of was to get her justice.

At last the three came to a bridge. Katie stared at the object as they approached, noticing the tracks. A train must have once gone over it. A small shudder came down her spine. What if it was their train? What if it had come this way? It just reminded her of how they got abducted in the first place.

Katie suddenly remembered what she was doing when they got abducted. She was talking to Amelia, wasn't she? It was blurry, but she knew she was talking to someone, right? Amelia. That was her best guess.

She took a deep breath.

Never did she want to be reminded of how she got into this mess. Never ever.

But none the less, the three stepped on the bridge, with Katie helping Jacqueline. They still had to go, after all.

As they got a quarter of the way across, Katie barely noticed a smaller, more wooden bridge beneath them. But she quickly kept her head up.

She didn't notice someone was below them.
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Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

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Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
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[ *  * ]
((Benny Lightfield continued from Bring Me the Head of Simon Mattheson))

They had come full circle.

Well, only he had actually.

Over the past 30 or so hours, Benny had traced a full counterclockwise circle around the map using the train tracks. He had crossed the bridge, made a huge arc through the desert, gone through town, passed the chapel going north, turned west at the creek, continued through the shrubbery forest and past the trading post and train station, and turned back southeast. Now they were exactly where they had started.

Well, where he had started. The counterclockwise action didn't turn back the clock quite like he now wished he could. His original traveling partners, Ramona and Patrick, had been dead for a whole day by now. The rest of his friends were resorting to killing or dropping like flies. He was grateful that he didn't have to do either, but as another sun set without a rescue team anywhere in sight, he knew that sooner or later he was going to have to choose. Accordingly, he had his Mauser out.

The purpose of their mission was to go kill Simon. But could he follow through with it? And even if he did, what would they do afterwards? Delilah and Rebecca were still out there, and according to the announcement, they were still killing people. Could he possibly talk any sense into them? It was all too confusing to think about.

They got to the edge of the bridge. They could have crossed the pedestrian bridge on the bottom, but Benny had originally woken up on the top bridge and crossed that one, so it felt right to cross it again.

As they took their first few steps across, Benny looked down. It was generally a bad idea to do so for the same reason they always say "don't look down": the river below was fearsome, and due to the way the bridge was built, Benny could easily see it through the wooden track ties.

He could also easily see Simon Mattheson's head.

The sheer surprise of seeing (and hearing) their intended target without him noticing them over the rush of the river nearly made Benny jump. His entire being seemed to freeze colder than the river itself, and he only managed to whirl around and make a panicked shushing gesture at Katie and Cameo before he felt nearly paralyzed.

He willed himself out of his frozen inaction momentarily, realizing Simon could notice them at any second. He made an exaggerated gesture pointing down at Simon, then turned back around to move in his direction, trusting that they had gotten the message. Taking large, silent steps across the track ties, he approached a position where he could be directly above Simon's head. Then he would just have to aim straight down and get a one shot kill, no firefight, no problem.

Benny blinked hard and took a deep breath. It didn't feel deep enough; he could have all the oxygen in the entire zone and it still wouldn't be enough to entirely prepare him for what he was about to do. He silently reminded himself that this kid deserved it. He was a monster. He'd killed people close to everyone Benny cared about right then. He needed to die.

Benny crouched down, took another deep breath, and held the gun straight.
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[ *  * ]
((GMing approved))

There was a gun pointed at him. There were people on the bridge, and there was a gun pointed at them and they all were going to die. All of them. Every single one.

Simon pulled his winchester up, dropping to his back, looking straight up into the slats. Saw the first gun flash. A sound of thunder. There was a sharp pain in his leg, but it didn't matter. Legs healed. He would finish this and make things better. He would make it all better. But why was this boy shooting at him? This person he could only just see through the glare in the sun. This person he could only barely recall?

They just don't understand, Simon. They don't understand that you will win. Kill them now and get on with the game, it is all for you Simon, they are coming just for you.

He smiled, and pointed his rifle up through the slats, aiming at the boy who had just fired. He squinted in the sunlight, and pulled the trigger.
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[ *  * ]
It was harder to aim his pistol than Benny had expected. It always looked simple whenever he saw it done in the movies. Ready, aim, fire, right? And he even had some vague, probably incorrect idea of how to brace so the recoil didn't make the gun fly out of his hands into the river. But actually getting a thin gun barrel pointed in exactly the direction he wanted was hard, especially with no laser sight. Laser sights made everything easier.

Benny found it especially hard to aim a pistol once Simon started moving. He had obviously noticed. Benny let out a panicked shot before trying to move out of the way. Since he was off his guard, the pistol nearly flew out of his hands anyway, but he managed to hold onto it before running.

He'd hardly even taken a step before a shot tore through his left shoulder.

"AAH FUCK!"

He didn't feel blown back by the shot, or even like he was being hindered from running. But, all of a sudden, a sizable portion of his shoulder just wasn't there anymore, and his body, to put it mildly, missed that part dearly.

Without the wherewithal to move his left arm to keep his balance as he ran, he lurched across the ties with all the strength he had. The pain, after a split second, faded away; it wasn't nearly as important as finishing Simon off, so it simply fell by the wayside.

He made it to the end of the bridge. He had been leaning over so hard to keep his momentum going that he nearly fell flat on his face, much like he had done 30 hours ago. He staggered to a decent balance and whirled around. Simon looked like he was stuck in the bridge, although he couldn't see the condition his leg was in. But he tried to move around to get a better bead on him, kicking up a dust cloud as he slid down the slope that joined the upper and lower bridge. If there wasn't something more pressing occupying everyone's attention, they would have seen the dust shining with the brilliant orange of the sunset. Now, though, it was a crude smokescreen, if anything.

Benny took a second to get a clearer view of what was going on.
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[ *  * ]
"AAH FUCK"

Simon grinned at the sound. He had hit something. The form ran away rapidly, faster than he could move his gun in his posture. He looked at the other two figures, not yet moving. One was... was... he could not place the name. Was she in the bar? That explosion... Not important. She was a target now.

And the other one...

no.

No.

NO.

It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.

It is, Simon.

Cameo. She was there. She was there, with these others. These stupid others who were going to die.

And so is she, Simon.

Yes. Yes. She will die. She will die for what she did. She will die so that I can win. But she will die more slowly than the others.

Good Simon. Now you're getting it. Everyone is out for you. So you have to be out for everyone else. Enjoy yourself. Get into it!

Yes. Yes. Get into it. He hoisted the gun back up, pointed at her, and pulled the trigger. Nothing was there but a hollow click. He looked at it, confused.

He hadn't cocked the gun. In his haste, he had completely forgotten such an elementary thing. But he could laugh about it later. He jammed down the lever, ejecting the cartridge and loading the new shell. As he hefted the gun again, he heard a scuffling by the end of the bridge. The boy was back, throwing up a cloud of dust. Trying to throw off his aim.

Just use more bullets then, Simon.

Ha. Of course. He pointed the barrel of his rifle at the cloud of smoke, and fired off three rounds as fast as he could get them off.
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[ *  * ]
The first thing Benny heard as he slid down the hill was the sound of Simon shooting. Benny was in plain sight of Simon, more or less, so the fact that the shot didn't hit him at all could only mean one thing.

He was shooting at Katie and Cameo.

In his haste to get across the bridge, he forgot that his two friends were on the other side, much closer to where Simon actually was, and since there were two of them, they would be easier targets. Benny couldn't process all of this at the time, but he had a gut feeling that if he didn't take Simon out this instant, they would be hit. And since Benny now knew not to trust his own aim too well, he had only one option: Distract him.

For all the vulgarity in the kinds of movies and TV shows Benny watched, he himself never worked blue, or at least tried to swear as little as possible. He knew that really funny clean jokes were among the hardest to come by, and they were what he usually strove for. But he had already dropped an F-bomb on the bridge, and the only thing he could think of as a distraction right at the moment was, though a mild swear, entirely an accurate description of both Simon and his behavior.

He raised his pistol, aiming it through the dust cloud, and screamed,

"HEY ASSBUTT!"

Something on the other side of the dust cloud turned. Benny's three shots were met with three rifle shots. Neither of them had terribly accurate shots, but Simon connected at least once. At least.

Benny tried to scream in pain once more, but he found the wind was nearly entirely out of him. There was definitely at least a big hole in his chest, and he missed it more dearly than he ever could have missed his shoulder.

Benny shot twice more before he became too exhausted to keep the gun upright.
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[ *  * ]
"Hey! Assbutt!"

What?

Shot one. chest. Left side. Ow.

It's all right, Simon. We can fix it. You can still win.

No I can't. That's not fixable.

No, Simon. You can fix it. You can win. Just pull out your gun. Kill them all.

No...

The second shot hit his knee, just barely raised above the boards of the bridge. He felt the bone shatter, the tendons tear, and everything below went numb.

It's ok, Simon. We can fix that too.

I can't fix it. That's... that's... oh god.

FOCUS SIMON.

What am I focusing on? Is my leg even there? Is my heart still there? What's... why?

KILL THEM, SIMON.

But? Is that? Is that really Cameo up there? Is she watching me? Can she see me?

SHE IS A HEARTLESS BITCH WHO DESERVES TO DIE. KILL HER.

Who is yelling at me? Why can't? Isn't she?

...

She's important, isn't she?

Isn't she important?

No.

Yes. She must be. Why is she up there? Why can't she be down here, with me? Why can't we be together?

He looked down at his leg, still wedged in the bridge. The knee was gone, the tenons ripped, his foot hanging on by a thread.

I'm going to die, aren't I?

He shifted himself slightly, tried to move, but his whole body seemed numb. As he floundered, he became more and more desperate, pulling as hard as he could at all of his limbs.

There was a dull splash down below the bridge. The thread had broken. He did not need to look at his leg to know it ended at the knee. Summoning up all of his effort, he latched on to a plank along side of the bridge, pulled himself forward, managed to get several more planks before his fingers gave out.

No more shooting. Good, he was dead anyway. Don't waist the lead. He was right under Cameo now, looking at her. He took as deep a breath as he could muster, shifting his arms under his body, propping himself up.

"Hi, Cameo."

His shoulder collapsed, and he dropped back to the planks. The stream had stopped rushing, the wind had stopped blowing. All he could hear was a distant ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes, taking one last glimpse of the world, and heard one, last, impossible thing. It echoed in his head, filling the void. Somewhere, he knew it had to be his mind playing tricks. But...

Hi, Simon.


M06: SIMON MATTHESON: DECEASED
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[ *  * ]
As Benny slumped against the side of the hill, the he got a closer (and yet further, and steadily dimming) view of Simon. He was pretty badly mangled - it looked like his leg had gotten caught in the bridge and torn off almost entirely - and he was clearly in no shape to kill anyone else.

I got him.

And then, certain parts of his life flashed before his eyes. Mostly, they came from the past 24 hours. It had been so awkward with Katie being there during meal breaks, not asking for anything, then being reduced to eating a freakin' snake of all things, but oh how he wished he could have a bite of snake right now. Maybe with some hot sauce on it. He would have eaten anything if it meant being alive for a little longer.

He thought of all of his friends who had died, just like he was about to. Everybody from theatre who were either dead or were never going to be the same again because they had decided to kill.

He thought about the dead body across the river from him, which he couldn't quite clearly see until he got to this vantage point. He wondered who it was. It was a bloodier mess than he was, but a goner all the same.

He thought of the people who were still alive. Everybody who didn't go on the trip, Katie, Cameo, Leo (but hadn't even his friend Leo killed?), Sam, his parents...

Shit.

He suddenly remembered something vital. Somehow, a thought that had escaped him during all the time he’d been certain of his own death only occurred to him when it was actually happening.

He had written a will.

About 6 months ago, he had sat down and, over the course of an afternoon, written out his last will and testament. He couldn’t remember why – maybe it was due to overheard talk about some relative needing to get her affairs in order, maybe it was one too many times reading the Darwin Awards – but for some reason he was compelled to write down what he wanted done after he died.

He thought he was just joking at the time, but he suddenly realized he was being serious. He also realized that without a little help, his parents were never going to find it.

“HEEEEEEEEEELP!” Benny tried to yell for assistance, but it came out a lot quieter than he expected. He hoped, against all hope, that he would at least be intelligible before he kicked the bucket. Katie and Cameo came over. Even though he was having a hard time seeing them, he knew they were eager to try to help him But he was beyond the point of help. He merely said, “Come closer.”

Katie leaned in.

“On my computer, there’s a document named ‘The Living Will of Benny Lightfield.’ The password is ‘owlbungeecord,’ one word. Like the bird, but with “bungee cord” after it. If you make it out of here, tell my parents. They need to know.”

It took all of Benny’s strength to say that, and after he was done, he laid back and, for once in his short life, truly rested.

***

Three days later, 10 p.m.

After everyone but one final contestant was left standing and was sent back to Alderbrook to live out the rest of his/her days, Mr. Lightfield was clearing out his inbox in an attempt to let routine distract him from bereavement. Upon doing his usual check of the spam folder to see if anything important had fallen through the cracks, he noticed an email distinctly different from the ones related to his normal business or his political volunteering. The email address contained no proper names, or indeed any reference to the identity of the sender that Mr. Lightfield would have understood, but the title spoke loud and clear: “Re: Benny”.

He double-clicked it. It merely read, “Look for ‘The Living Will of Benny Lightfield’ on Benny’s computer. The password is ‘owlbungeecord’. He wanted you to read it.”

Mr. Lightfield was hesitant. He’d resolved, after having received the horrible news, not to snoop through Benny’s things. He knew these next few days were ones he’d never forget, and he would rather remember his only son in the most positive light possible at this point. Finding his secrets hidden under the bed, or for that matter, on the computer could have a small chance of jeopardizing that. But there was something Benny wanted read. Having known Benny all his life, he knew there was no way the sender could have made up that password. This document, he was sure, would be there. Exhaling slowly through half-lidded eyes, Benny’s father pushed his office chair away from the desk and took the numerous steps up to Benny’s room.

The door was closed, once he opened the door and flicked on the lightswitch, it was easy to tell that nothing had been moved. Everything was just as messy as it had always been, or at least as messy as it always was a week after a scheduled cleaning, with stray objects starting to find their way onto the floor and arranging themselves into the beginning of a systematic disarray. The computer was located past several of these knick-knacks, and Mr. Lightfield had to be careful to step around them, and at the same time not to wake his wife, sleeping just downstairs from where he was.

He pressed the power button on the computer tower, and within seconds a thunderous cacophony of synthetic stringed instruments blasted out of the speakers. Unbeknownst to either of his parents, Benny always turned the volume knob on his speakers all the way up whenever he turned the computer off so he would know if someone was trying to use it without his permission. It was a show of trust on his parents’ part that they got him his own computer, and Benny was truly grateful, but he couldn’t resist the juvenile security measure once he’d thought of it. He just never expected that prank to be his last.

After a few seconds, Mr. Lightfield found the volume knob and turned it down, only to hear rapid footsteps coming up the stairs. Soon enough, Mrs. Lightfield burst into the room.

“What are you doing in here?” She looked tired, not only from grieving but from having been asleep not 30 seconds before. She was going to ask what the noise was, but this sight was the real puzzler. Didn’t they say they weren’t going to touch anything?

“Benny’s school friend – the one that managed to get out of there alive – sent me something telling me there was a document he wanted me to read. I’m just checking to see if it’s there, and if it’s not I’m shutting the computer off.”

The computer was fully on by now, so Mr. Lightfield opened the Documents folder and scrolled down. Sure enough, there it was, with a glib title just like one would expect from Benny.

“It’s here. You might want to come take a look.”

Mrs. Lightfield navigated the obstacle course that was Benny’s floor while Mr. Lightfield put in the password for the document, and then the two of them started reading. It was a more than two-page document, with enough work put into it to surprise the both of them.


The Living Will of Benny Lightfield (DON'T OPEN 'TIL DEAD).doc
 
Dear Parents,

If you are reading this, I am dead, or somebody has too many computer skills and not enough sense to leave other people’s stuff alone. Anyway, I have no idea how I could possibly be dead at the moment. Honestly, I just wrote this because I figured it would be funny. I realize that I’m not even 18 and therefore this isn’t “legally binding” or whatever, and also most of this is really silly, but please, try to take into consideration what you can. With that said, the shot-calling begins… now.

First off: If there is a body (and I say “if” because given who I am, if I’m dead by now, it was probably in some catastrophically stupid manner that left half a city block demolished), please cremate it. This is primarily because I want something awesome done with the ashes. Something respectful, mind you (no giving me to Keith Richards or that lady that runs around with her father’s ashes in a jar and eats them), but something other than just letting them sit there. I read on Cracked that peoples’ ashes have been put into everything from fireworks to synthetic diamonds and even comic book ink, so come up with something like that. Something me-specific, though, I guess. I’ll come back and edit this when I think of something suitably awesome.

I have a very specific request for the obituary. I would write a full one out, but I think you would be able to get most of the details about me right, more than I would at least. Still, on top of all the “he was such a good kid” stuff you hear about every dead teenager, there are a few things that I need you to put in if at all possible:

Proud wearer of kilts
Mother of 3
Root beer aficionado
So fresh, you could suck his nuts
Mastermind behind the IcyHot Incident (that wasn’t actually me, but if I’m dead, might as well take the credit)

When you hold the funeral, don’t. Please don’t hold a funeral for me. I’ve been to one (not like I have to tell you, obviously, you were at my great-grandma’s funeral too), and they are just monumentally depressing. I would rather not go out like that. You know how in Mexico the Day of the Dead is a happy occasion? Do something like that. Hold a funeral party for me. Invite the whole school. If the incident that killed me was catastrophic enough to make the news, invite somebody famous. Bottom line: Celebrate my memory, don’t mourn my passing.

[entire page of party plans, including favorite foods to serve and a suggested DJ playlist liberally peppered with Weird Al, omitted]

Regarding my stuff: Do whatever you want with it. Just don’t keep it exactly as-is. I have accumulated enough stupid stuff (thank you for that, by the way!) that it just might be museum worthy, or at least be better given to kids in Africa who need it than kept as a memento. Heck, you can burn it if you want. Again, if something so awesome that it is the only logical choice occurs to me, I’ll come back and review this section. (Or maybe not, because if anybody besides me is reading this, I at the very least ought to be dead. Hmm.)

A Side Note Regarding the Manner of My Death

Like I said, I very highly doubt I’m going to die anytime soon. If the incident that led to my demise demolished a half a city block or more, you can bet it was accidental and totally my fault. Other than that, I can’t really think of anything else that might realistically happen, except for boring stuff like getting hit by a bus. However, there is an emergency scenario I want to cover here.

[half a page in which Benny explains the manner in which he would fake his death if he ever needed to, which is written down expressly so his parents wouldn’t be fooled and could meet up with him later, omitted]

To reiterate what I said at the beginning, none of this is technically binding, but please go through with as much of this as you can. I mean, yeah, telling the newspaper to announce to the world that I was once so fresh you could suck my nuts is probably not going to happen, but on the off chance they went through with it, the results would be legendary. So please try to have a funeral party and shoot my ashes into space or whatever. It’d mean so much to my bloated, rotting corpse.

Love, Benny Lightfield

M12, BENNY LIGHTFIELD: GAME OVER
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((Jacqueline "Cameo" Conroy continues from BMTHOSM))

Cameo had simply no choice but to stay with these two. Thanks to the slight mishap of a few bullets in a few vital places, help was needed to move around, and help she got. They were nice people, it seemed. They wanted Simon's head on a platter, apparently, but that didn't change the fact they were helping her unrewarded. What a novel concept.

There were many things going through Cameo's head when first they started crossing the tracks over the river, most of them were about whether or not she had a chance the way things were going. If this "game" really did end the way the man on the announcements said it did, then by the end of this she was going to have to kill someone her age, or at the very least be responsible for a single death. But she could barely walk without this girl's help, how was she going to survive against well-armed, well-equipped others who'd all taken to this thing a long, long time ago?

But foremost on her mind was Simon. She left him all that time ago, and there were no regrets on her behalf, no regrets. He wasn't the Simon she ran into on the first day, when they were just two scared little kids. She'd run out of disgust and fear of her own safety against him. But his name hadn't come up yet - he was still out there, still dangerous, and probably looking for her. It wasn't that Cameo's ego was big enough to believe that someone in this pile of rock would waste their time looking for her, it's that her ego was bigger than that, big enough to know it with all her sensabiltiy.

It wasn't until halfway across the bridge that she heard the gunshot. And it wasn't until a few moments later, stood motionless on that bridge, that she another one. And then she heard Benny scream.

Cameo wasn't expecting this. There he stood not a few paces away with a gaping hole where his shoulder used to sit, and she certainly wasn't expecting to see what she saw below.

He was there. Standing on the wooden bridge below, a look on his face briefly described as shock, which became her own when that gun in his hands from yesterday was suddenly aimed at the two girls. Simon was right there, right now, and he intended to kill her.

If that didn't help her act, she didn't know what did. She used all her weight to pull Katie backwards unexpectedly from the scopes of that gun, upon which she tumbled to the tracks. Her shoulder hit the ground and pain reverberated throughout. The wound echoed. It was almost like being shot again. She let out a yell.

As she clutched her shoulder, she noticed that her and Katie were the only two on the bridge anymore. Benny was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't see anybody else on that bridge, and for a moment she assumed the worst. He'd fallen into the drink, like she'd planned on doing yesterday. He was no longer with them, simply left the two girls to Simon's mercy while he was reprieved from any and all pain. But as she looked beyond the bridge, she saw him standing level with Simon.

And you as well as anyone know how that ended.

Katie picked Cameo up from the floor of the bridge, and they were off. Katie was legging it almost faster than Cameo could manage, but she managed in the end. They were closing in on the aftermath, and it was just as Benny started to yell that they got there. He was dying. He was talking to Katie, as she leaned in, but Cameo disentagled herself from the Japanese girl and started shambling over to the other forgotten body.

Simon lay there on the bridge, missing more appendages than an arm in a sausage maker and whiter than a bleached sheet. While Benny was not yet long for the world they lived in, Simon had well and truly passed beyond that point.

Cameo got to the ground, sitting there on her knees, while she tried to think of what she was feeling at that very moment, and how Simon fit into that. She could hear Benny's last gasp, but Cameo needed her own.

Simon was dead, but Cameo still had things she needed to say to him.
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Katie felt her stomach lurch when she looked at where Benny was pointing, and saw... him.

This was the moment. There he was, just under them. It had come to this. There was no stopping this. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it?

Katie watched as Benny opened fire, and Simon fired back. She felt Jacqueline tug back at her, and then she felt herself briefly stumble to the ground. A few bullets whizzed near her feet, and she realized he was targeting her and Jacqueline specifically. She heard Benny cry out twice, and a panic came over her.

She could do it, right now. Katie could have just ran up and stabbed him with that sharpened stone, and it'll be...

Over.

No it wouldn't! No it wouldn't! No it...

Katie heard herself making a gasping noise as a pain went through her leg. For a second, she thought she had been shot. Her mind raced. Were they going to die? Was Benny alright? Did they get Simon? Could she get him? She probably could, but-

The shots stopped.

Katie slowly lifted Jacqueline off the ground. No, her leg hadn't been shot, or at least that she knew of, but she had twisted her bad leg a bit when she was pulled down, which flared up her nerves.

That's when she heard Benny cry out for help.

"Benny?"

She limped over to the fallen boy, his body rested against the hill, and once she saw him, she paused, then crouched down. He... he was wounded in multiple places.

"Benny..."

It wasn't help he wanted. It was a last request.

She was supposed to survive, and then tell his parents to look for a folder on his computer with the password "owlbungeecord" and the title "The Living Will of Benny Lightfield" on it. That was his last request to her.

And that's when he laid back limply.

He had to be joking, right? He was going to sit back up and say "Just kidding!". He would do that, right? Sure, it wouldn't be funny, but it was better than... better than... he had to be joking. There was just no way for him to just... no. She didn't even want to say or even think that word.

See? He was just... resting. He was going to come back up and laugh and everything would be fine.

Just...

Fine.

Katie felt herself tear up, and try as she might, she couldn't stop herself. Even as Jacqueline pulled herself away from her, she barely payed attention, nor did she care.

Within a second, she was sobbing.
Kami's Sidestories
Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

They will come back. They always do. We have a place for them.
Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
Miranda Millers (SC)- Female Student #024- Pranking people not quite to death with a tire iron

In Loving Memory Of Those Killed in a Mini


Quote:
 

Bake We'll just ask Elena to add a new area into the compound. "Siobhan's Cleavage" - The spaciously large cleavage of an overweight, promiscuous cheerleader who wants to go to Beauty School. THREADS ALLOWED: 8

12:40 Slamexo She [Sidney] sells trollin' and trollin' accessories

02:41 Medic Why does the world hate my racist jackass--wait that speaks for itself.


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I'll turn Super Saiyan and save Vale... but first, let me take a selfie.
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Katie felt trapped.

The last time she felt this cornered, this horrified, it seemed like forever. It was before the entire train thing. It turned out alright then, didn't it?

Katie buried her hands in her face.



Katie remembered hiking by herself. She had everything prepared. Water, first aid, a map, everything. And then she came across the steep path full of loose rocks. Katie had never walked down that particular path before. But she had-rather foolishly in hindsight- decided it was that easy to get down it.

One pebble. One poor step. That was all it took.

Katie felt herself slide down the path rapidly, and a pain coursed its way through her leg like it never had. When she finally came to a completely stop, she could barely move. Her bag was just several feet away from her, but her leg hurt in the most horrible way. She knew what had happened, but she didn't want to give up. But even then, she felt like she was going to die there. As she tried to slowly drag herself towards her bag with her three good limbs to get her phone out, she pictured herself getting picked apart by wildlife, perhaps even while she was still alive. Tears streamed down her face, and eventually she stopped. It hurt too much to keep going.

She was lucky that a few minutes later, someone found her. A small family, a couple and their daughter, had spotted her, and helped her out. Soon they had managed to call someone, and soon enough, Katie was on a stretcher on her way to the hospital. She couldn't have thanked them enough. She remembered repeatedly saying "Thank you" to them, and they could only nod.

It was an embarrassment when she had to go back to school with the cast and crutches. But she tried to make the best of it, and even joked about it. "If only you guys did Christmas Carol. I would be a good Tiny Tim!". Or things like that.

But needless to say, it was a relief when the cast finally came off and she could walk without crutches.

It turned out alright then, didn't it? See, even the worst moment of her life...




Katie didn't move her hands away. Instead, she sobbed into them further.

No one was going to rescue them. Then and now couldn't be compared! Even if they did somehow get rescued, it wasn't going to bring Benny back. No amount of aid was going to bring him back! She still hoped for that one "Just kidding!". Benny was the kind of person who would joke around, right? See, he'd do that!

She whimpered to herself. It wasn't like how she got rescued that day. No one was safe. Everyone was either dying or gone crazy! Even Benny. No, Benny wasn't dead. She didn't want to admit it!

"What are we going to do... what are we going to do now..." she softly murmured under her breath.

She remembered all the bodies she saw, the distant charred remains in the saloon, Ramona's finger, the trading post. No one was safe. Not from Delilah, or Simon, or Rebecca, or each other, or that Sheriff...

No one.

Finally pulling her hands away from her tear-struck face, she slowly turned towards Jacqueline, wanting to look away. Another body was in sight, just on the wooden bridge.

"We... we got him, didn't we...?"

She didn't know how to feel about that.

She really didn't.

Even if she wanted it at first...
Kami's Sidestories
Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

They will come back. They always do. We have a place for them.
Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
Miranda Millers (SC)- Female Student #024- Pranking people not quite to death with a tire iron

In Loving Memory Of Those Killed in a Mini


Quote:
 

Bake We'll just ask Elena to add a new area into the compound. "Siobhan's Cleavage" - The spaciously large cleavage of an overweight, promiscuous cheerleader who wants to go to Beauty School. THREADS ALLOWED: 8

12:40 Slamexo She [Sidney] sells trollin' and trollin' accessories

02:41 Medic Why does the world hate my racist jackass--wait that speaks for itself.


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Brackie
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The words weren't coming.

Her knees chafed the wooden planks hovering over the river as she shifted only slightly, trying to figure out what really needed to be said here. Here she was after all this time, finally reunited with someone she could...well, for all intents and purposes, consider as the Simon she ran into and took in.

She'd always had words she needed to say to this particular Simon, and not whoever that imposter was that took him over last time they met. Important words.

Like how much it kinda meant to Cameo, not in the sappy way but one of those matter-of-fact ways, that someone was approaching her. It probably wasn't his intention, considering the situation they were in and the very limited amount of options they had presented to them, but the fact that he stood his ground instead of running meant something, right?

Or how about the fact that it wasn't just a one-time thing? As sappy and euphamistic as it looked in paper, she really didn't want to not see him again, at least not at first. Why was her first instinct not to run and hide from him, but to make sure they'd meet up again? Sure it wasn't how she planned, since something unexplainable had obviously happened in the interim time, but just the motion...

And then of course there was the fact that she knew exactly what she wanted from him. Either due to a rigid sense of what she expected from someone she barely knew or either something of meaning actually happening, she could tell what she wanted from him, and whatever showed up in Simon's place at the station on a day that was meant to start at the very least not imperfect ruined that. But why did she know it was ruined?

These were all things that she wasn't asking him. She wasn't asking Simon, because Simon was dead, and everyone with a brain knew that dead men told no tales. These answers would remain blank for the rest of her life, but she knew something just had to be said.

So it might as well have been whatever Katie asked her.

"..."

"Yeah."

"...Yeah, you got him, I guess."

This was what it came down to in the end, apparently. She was one of the sole surviving classmates in a class of fourty, and it was all coming down to a concept as simple as "Did we get him?"

"...Congratulations," she started bitterly "Now what-"

And it would have been just that had Cameo not heard something that sounded eerily familiar to a tree branch snapping in half, only coming beneath her knees. Her eyes darted down in alarm to see the wooden plank shake beneath her bare weight. She would have passed it off as something unimportant had it not repeated itself again, and again, like someone was following right behind her in a forest. And it wasn't just underneath her too, it was on the planks caught in the firefight, the planks carrying the combined weight of two social outcasts, and the planks that just weren't cut out to be planks anymore.

The realisation of what was happening beneath her became all too clear, like her heart was bumping ice water through her veins with every beat. Her eyes caught the other girls in a flash, and she bet she didn't even need to yell what she was about to to get the message across.

"You're in the way."

You're in the way.

And if you don't get out of the way right now I'm not long for this world.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

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Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
They got him.

And Katie, again, didn't know how to feel about that.

She saw hatred in her green eyes, and Katie remembered how she told her of being friends with Simon. And that's when she knew that she blamed her.

Katie looked down, feeling ashamed.

Benny's gun was just an inch from his fingers, and she instinctively reached down. It only made it worse when her fingers brushed against Benny's, still warm. The gun was now in her hand, also warm from...

Oh god, what was she doing? Was she seriously taking his gun? After leading him and Simon to their deaths? But... but...

The gun rested in her hands, and Katie focused her eyes on it rather than Jacqueline, or Benny, or Simon. Her eyes slightly glazed over as Jacqueline started on a tirade, not wanting to hear.

The rant was cut off just as it started by a cracking sound, and suddenly, like a wild animal, Katie snapped her head up alertly. Turning her head towards Jacqueline again, she stared in confusion.

She didn't know what was happening, but Jacqueline simply told her she was in the way.

Katie found herself swiftly lifting herself off the ground, and did the only thing that seemed instinctive, despite all logic.

She ran. Or rather, swiftly limped.

As the pain coursed through her leg in the most horrid fashion, her panicked mind finally realized what was happening.

The bridge was collapsing.

In the distance, she heard the sound of further cracking wood.

And that's when she knew Jacqueline Conroy was gone.

((Katie Tanaka continued in This Too Will Pass))
Kami's Sidestories
Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

They will come back. They always do. We have a place for them.
Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
Miranda Millers (SC)- Female Student #024- Pranking people not quite to death with a tire iron

In Loving Memory Of Those Killed in a Mini


Quote:
 

Bake We'll just ask Elena to add a new area into the compound. "Siobhan's Cleavage" - The spaciously large cleavage of an overweight, promiscuous cheerleader who wants to go to Beauty School. THREADS ALLOWED: 8

12:40 Slamexo She [Sidney] sells trollin' and trollin' accessories

02:41 Medic Why does the world hate my racist jackass--wait that speaks for itself.


Click here for awesomeness. Your brain will be BLOWN. : D
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Brackie
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And that's what she did, the other girl realised what was happening to the bridge not long after Cameo did herself and ran.

She wasn't moving, though. She treated the bridge around and beneath her like it was made of the most delicate glass in the world. By the sound of how much the tiles ebbed and cracked around her, one false move could-

*snap*

That was a rope, not a piece of the wood. That was what held the bridge up. That was something you didn't want snapping while you were sitting on it, because this was so damn close to the end of everything and you still had a chance out there, and nobody wanted to go like this unless it was on their own terms. And this wasn't. Nobody wanted to die by accident.

Hell after everything she'd been through, Cameo didn't want to die at all.

But she had to get off this bridge.

She reached for the ropes. They weren't creaking and snapping under her weight like the planks of wood attempting to hold her suspended in the air were. Her hands clamped on the sides and pulled her body up from the ground, where she knew it was only a matter of time until they fell. She had to get off the bridge, and she had to do it fast.

Cameo stepped forward to realise a little too late she was never touching dry land again.

The boards snapped in two as her bare frame put all its weight on her first steps, and she fell through the fresh gap in the bridge, bag flying out somewhere to the side, never to be seen again. Her hands would have grabbed onto something had her head not slammed forward to hit the nearest plank of wood, and through the terror of her heart skipping a beat and her she didn't hear the snap of her nose and the almost instantaneous flow of blood.

She felt her body falling through the air, like some sort of nightmare. She could only see the bridges above her growing ever more distant, with dark little droplets falling from her face until suddenly everything turned translucent and blurry, like someone had wrapped her head in a plastic bag. Once again, she was underwater, but this time her lungs weren't prepared.

Cameo's head bobbed to the surface, drenched and choked by her own hair, and she could feel the current pulling her body along, and she couldn't stay with it. Her limbs felt weak, her breath short, and she couldn't see anywhere she could cling to to stop the madness. Not a shore, nor a rock.

It was like she'd been swimming for days, blindly and madly. She could barely work up the energy to move her hair from her eyes, a combination of heavy drenched clothes, physical and mental exhaustion and her limbs at only half-capacity.

She disappeared beneath the surface again.

I can't see...

She reappeared again, gasping for breath. Her hands were like claws now, grabbing and scratching for air.

I can't...die like this...

She disappeared again. Her lungs were breaking.

Not...now...

Cameo Conroy never resurfaced.

Female Student No #12: Jacqueline "Cameo" Conroy - GAME OVER
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