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| Topic Started: Nov 9 2012, 05:55 PM (1,743 Views) | |
| Pippin | Nov 9 2012, 05:55 PM Post #1 |
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W A H
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Jonathan knew that everyone at Patriot High dreaded Announcement Day; the teachers, the parents, the students especially. For the past couple of years, though, he thought he’d worried about them the most. Being put into the Program was just the tip of the iceberg. His dad was still out who knew where, doing whatever it was he had to do. Jonathan didn’t know how much news from American reached him. Would he even know if Jonathan had been picked? Jonathan had walked to school and stood in silence in the yard, waiting nervously for the announcement to start, hoping against hope that something would happen, something that would halt or postpone everything. Of course, nothing did. The government took too much pride in themselves, and in their genius idea, to fall at the first hurdle. Jonathan could see his friends standing nearby for just a brief moment. Bailey, Marley, Maxim, everyone he’d spent the majority of his life at school with. Then, The General appeared on screen, and Jonathan’s eyes focused completely on that. He didn’t look away when Patriot High was announced as the school for The Program. Nor did he look away when it was revealed he would be placed on it. It was as if he’d completely frozen, as if everything around him was suddenly small and insignificant. Jonathan said nothing as he was half-marched, half-dragged to the awaiting bus, didn’t even try to protest. What the hell could he actually do? -------------------------------------------- M03: Jonathan Roberts-Start There was absolutely no sound as Jonathan woke up. No honking of car horns, or padding of footsteps or even the low hum of various machinery like back at home. Nor was there any bird song, or even the crunching sound of feet on twigs and leaves, as Jonathan had expected after standing up. There was nothing, and it was making an already terrible situation twice as eerie and unnerving. For a few moments after waking up, Jonathan had been certain the gas had done something terrible to his vision, because he could only see for a few metres before everything beyond that grew hazy. He quickly realised, however, that the sheer density of the trees around him was blocking out the sunlight. This wasn’t normal. This didn’t happen in Milwaukee. This was surreal and terrifying, and there was absolutely no way out except death. Jonathan realised that he was in perhaps the opposite of a good situation, even for the Program. He was stuck somewhere in the middle of a forest, where he could hardly see and couldn’t even hear anyone sneaking up on him. And all he had to defend himself was... actually, hold on. What was his weapon? Jonathan hastily opened his bag after realising he’d neglected to check his weapon. It was lying right on top of the stuff, but Jonathan only saw and grabbed the fiddle bow at first. What is this? Some sort of... really small bow and arrow set? And why’s the string so thick and fibrous? Wait, okay, hold on... Jonathan took another look into the bag and saw the second part of his “weapon”. It looked like a violin, or something. Jonathan took it and removed it from his bag. It was a violin. He was going to have to defend himself with a violin and a violin bow. Jonathan slumped against one of the myriad trees. This was the last straw. His chances of survival, already slim, had dropped to about 4%. He wanted to live, but didn’t want to kill or even hurt people. He wanted to defend himself, but had nothing but a wooden piece of crap to do so with. With his back against a tree, Jonathan realised that his best option right now, insane as it seemed, was to call out for someone. He would need to get an ally sooner rather than later here. What did he have to lose? If the worst came to the worst, and he attracted someone looking for a kill... at least he’d be able to find out just how versatile a fiddle could actually be. “Hello!? HELLO!?” Jonathan shouted, as loud as possible. “Anyone else in here?” Preferably a friend. I could do with a friend right now... |
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| Violent-Medic | Nov 9 2012, 07:27 PM Post #2 |
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((Marley Jenkins continued from The Patriotic Penetrator.)) Marley had been running for a while. Well, not running the entire time, as much as he wanted to. He may have been a fast runner and he was used to long runs, but the terrain was too difficult to keep it up for so long. So he'd slow down to a walk every now and then, looking for anyone that might be friendly. He hadn't seen anyone, at least not up close. He thought he'd heard voices once or twice, but he hadn't been able to tell where they were coming from and so he kept going. He didn't want to jump out of some bushes and get a hail of gunfire in response. Really, his attempt to find friends wasn't going very well. He was too wary to approach anywhere people might be, but what was he supposed to do without people? Sure, he could probably take down someone with an equally terrible weapon. He was amongst the bigger kids in the grade and his father, during the rare times he was home, often rambled on about how the men of the Jenkins family always did well in war, because they were tough as balls. (Marley may have rephrased.) But proper war had allies and rules and more than a two-percent survival rate. This wasn't war. It was just bullshit. “Bullshit, you hear me?” Marley muttered under his breath, as he slowed down to a walk again. Where was he? A lot of pine trees. Marley crouched down and pulled out his map, squinting at it. ...Damn, he was far from his starting point. How long had he been running for? He didn't know. He didn't have a watch on him. Bah. He needed to stop. He needed rest. Running for so long was, in hindsight, a shit idea. He was tired and his fingers were cold and that just made him want to kick something. He hit a nearby tree a couple of times to vent his frustration. Made him feel a little better. Now... what to do. It wasn't as if he'd have better luck in this stupid forest. How was he going to find anyone? He needed to find Ashley or Jonathan or... and okay, he only heard Jonathan's voice then because that's what he was thinking about him, right? Right? Wrong. Because there was no mistaking that voice. “Johnny?” Marley mumbled quietly. Then he yelled as loudly as he could because fuck it, why not? “OI, JOHNNY! That you? You behind these trees?” Jonathan, his most limey of buddies. He had calmness and shit. He'd have a better idea of what the fuck to do. Plus, he wasn't dead yet, which was fucking awesome. Marley started treading towards where he thought Jonathan's voice had come from. |
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Program V2 F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me." Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.” Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 | |
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| Mimi | Nov 10 2012, 01:44 PM Post #3 |
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** Zora Spencer, female no. 16, start The key to a good hunt is knowing when to wait. With patience comes success, kiddo. It was one of the first lessons her dad taught her on their trips and subsequently reminded her of every time thereafter. It didn’t matter how long you had to wait, be it only a couple minutes or several hours, just long enough for that opening to show itself. She didn’t see the importance of it back home, viewing sitting in silence at the hunting stand for hours on end as little more than annoyance, but her tune quickly changed when she’d awoken in the dense pine forest. It had taken her all of ten minutes to quickly access her belongings, horrified when she found her only means of defense was a cigar, but swiftly moved on to pull out her issues jacket and map with a calmness that surprised even her. If things worked out the way she was expecting them to, she wouldn’t need a weapon anyway, not so soon at least. She’d seen the Program before; everyone had. It was something you watched and then thought about what you’d do in the same situation, whether you’d group up with friends or if you’d play or if you’d just throw in the towel. It all ended the same, though, with one person outlasting the rest. Surviving. It didn’t take her long at her to decide what she would do whilst rummaging through her duffel bag. All she had to do was avoid the confrontation, stay under the radar and let the players pick one another off. There was always that question in the beginning and people talking to the cameras about how nobody’s going to play their sick game. But in the end, there were always people playing. Always. And with the amount of colored kids given the freedom to do what they’d probably always wanted to do, it was more an even surer thing. She’d have to forget that she had friends in the game, no matter how sad it made her. Only one person can get out alive, afterall. She’d begun running almost immediately, map and compass in hand, after wrapping herself in the jacket, ignoring the bite of cold in the sunless forest on her bare legs. On the map, there was a marked shack deep enough in the forest that you probably wouldn’t stumble upon it unless you were actively looking for it. She could wait the game out there, barricade the doors and windows so that no one could get in, maybe fashion some traps to catch game or predators. And if the dangerzone came into play, could hide in the forest around the vicinity until it cleared. All she had to do was play smart and it’d take her to the end. As quickly as she started, Zora found herself frozen when a desperate voice calling out for anybody else in the forest broke through the otherwise dead silence of the forest. Instinctively, she dropped low, crouching as she both searched for the source of the voice and a hiding spot. She tried to keep her shaky breathing as soft as she could when she saw Marley Jenkins several yards away past a group of pines and bushes. She’d been friendly with Marley back in school, their combined interests and friend groups forcing them to interact. Just hours earlier, she was seated next to him on the bus following the Announcement, though she’d specifically avoided catching his eye. And now they were competing against one another for their lives. Remaining as silent as possible as she backed herself against a tree, Zora struggled to keep him in her sights past the trees as he called out to the first voice, evidently belonging to Jonathan Roberts. More than anything, Zora wanted to separate herself from the two boys, both athletic and both more than able to overpower her by themselves, let alone if they worked together. Running now would mean giving away her position, though, and she was positive they could beat her in a footrace if they wanted. Her only option was to wait them out and hope for an opportunity to show itself. With patience comes success, kiddo. |
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| Pippin | Nov 10 2012, 06:19 PM Post #4 |
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Maybe calling out hadn’t been such a good idea as he had first thought. Maybe he should have tried to find a way out of such a dangerous place before attracting attention to himself. Maybe he should have got into a proper defensive position beforehand, rather than sitting defenceless on the ground. All of these were thoughts that instantly entered Jonathan’s mind as soon as the words had left his mouth. He knew that this sort of thing would have happened whatever he’d chosen to done; some lingering doubts about whether his choice had been the correct or best one. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, anyway. He’d made his choice and he’d have to deal with the consequences, whatever they turned out to be. For a moment, Jonathan thought he heard a faint voice coming from somewhere behind him. He dismissed it fairly quickly, though. Most likely it was just his imagination making him want to hear someone’s voice. Great. This early in, and he was already having hallucinations or something. A second later, and this idea was, rather thankfully, shattered, as Marley Jenkins’ voice rang out from the same direction as before. Johnny, nervous and tense as he was, felt as though he’d jumped out of his skin at the sound. He quickly scrambled up, though, still holding the fiddle and bow. Meeting Marley here was pretty much a best case scenario right now. Jonathan was good friends with him, and he was a physical threat out here, which would definitely help survivability. Sure, he could get angry at the drop of a hat, but Jonathan had always been good at calming him down. Maybe it wouldn’t work so well in the midst of all this, but compared to everything else around them, it would be an easy enough obstacle to overcome. “Marley?!” Jonathan shouted back, not yet daring to edge round to the other side of the tree. “Marley, that’s you, right? I’m right here! I’m just... uh...” Damn it. It looked like the time for stepping out of his protection spot was now. Otherwise, he could possibly startle Marley or something by staying hiding and then suddenly stepping in front of him. Slowly, Jonathan stepped away from the tree, and gingerly made his way to the side of it. There, just at the very edge of Jonathan’s vision, there was a figure; most likely Marley. Jonathan raised his hand holding the bow to try and make himself more visible. “Marley! Over here!” |
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| Violent-Medic | Nov 11 2012, 03:30 AM Post #5 |
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Marley squinted through the trees, trying to spot Jonathan. Stupid trees, of all the places he found his friend in, it had to be in the area where he couldn't see anything. Whatever, it was better than not finding him at all. “Yeah, I'm here! I just can't see you through—gah, this sucks!” Marley peered around another tree and the first thing he saw was a violin bow being flailed around. It threw him off for a moment (violins didn't belong in the battlefield, they were too beautiful) until he realised that Jonathan was the one waving it around. “Johnny!” Marley ducked past some branches and bushes until he was in front of his friend. He hadn't even realised that he'd been worried until realising for sure that Jonathan was safe. Though the situation still seemed a bit too bizarre to process how dangerous everything was, Marley had seen the Program every now and then (although he didn't like to actively watch it) and a lot of kids never found their friends. He still needed to find Ashley. He really didn't want to miss a chance to see her before... Okay. Think about it later. It'll be fine, Ash can run, she doesn't need more protection than anyone else, she'll live long enough for me to find her. I hope. Focus on Johnny, he's here, he's safe, fuck yeah. ...Now what the fuck do I say? “Well... this fucking blows, right?” Marley mumbled, scratching his head and looking down at Jonathan's weapon. “Sweet violin, though.” Why couldn't Marley have gotten a violin? Okay, it wasn't a proper weapon, but he knew how to use a violin. There had to be some use for that. Maybe... leading people to a location with music or something. "So, uh... what now?" |
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Program V2 F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me." Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.” Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 | |
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| GameMaker | Nov 11 2012, 11:47 AM Post #6 |
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Dan Orvall stood in the crowd, eyes fixed on the screen. He was high. It seemed like he was always high nowadays. The reason, simply, was none other than why the fuck not. You never know, today might be the last day of your life. Must as well live it up while you can. Especially on fucking Announcement day. He popped up on the screen. It was the man himself. The Grand Poobah, Lord Of All Motherfuckers. The fascist douchebag that served as the figurehead for everything that was wrong in this world. The General. He talked, and Dan stood there, eyes fixated. Watching his mouth move, looking at the angles of his face, his words turning into a blur in Dan's mind- "The school for the forty-third version of the Program is Patriot's High of Milwaukee, Wisconsin." Dan heard it, and for some reason, his first reaction was to smile. It really was so fitting, wasn't it? Government family. Couldn't get more government than them, he wouldn't be surprised if his father beat off to their fucking propaganda. One thing to do, before things got really dicey. Really out of hand. FUBAR, as his oh so militaristic brothers would call it. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, and dialed home. "Hello?" It was his mother. She sounded irritated. "Mom, it's Dan." "Dan, why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Her tone was the same. Annoyed, seeing the call as a minor inconvenience. "You know I still go to school, that's the surprise of my fucking life." He was likely to be called. Well, he wasn't likely, not in the sense that he had a majority chance. But a fucking shitload more likely to be called, and through that, die, then he was just a few minutes ago. He wondered if it was the weed that was dulling his reaction to this, or if it was just shock. "Watch your language, Dan! If this isn't important, I'm hanging up. I have Martha and Sarah over right now." No, it's not fucking important, I'm just calling you out of the fucking blue for no reason. "Mom, my high school just got picked for the Program." He said it, and it started to sink in. The program, the fucking death game. People gunning each other down, people stabbing each other, people torturing each other, rape, murder, rape and murder. "...You did? Dan, the Program is an honor. You're going to win, I have faith in you." Dan avoided his family a lot. Hated them, actually. Or thought he did. And it was funny, going through life, not realizing that he was missing something. Not realizing it, until now, that is. The black hole. The place in a kid's heart where a family should be. Where love should be. He didn't know he was missing it until he needed it. "Mom, I'm going to die." Funny how you can think weed dulls you. You can think it dulls your emotion even as your voice quivers and a tear starts to roll out of one eye. Even as you watch soldiers rush in, eager to follow their government orders. Even as you see the terrified faces, the tears, the despair on the kid's faces around you. Even as you hear your name called. "Mom, I'm going to die." He started to cry. They started to pour freely, and he choked up, trying to say what he wanted to. He hadn't cried in a long time. Maybe never. "Mom, I'm going to- I'm going to die. And I'm scared." "I'm scared I'm going to die alone. I don't want to die." No matter how hard you try to bury them, or forget about them, there are some things that are just inherently human, some emotions so primal you can't control them. Fear of death, of course, being one of them. But love, love was the strongest. The need of a scared kid to have someone who he knew would look out for him. It was rising up, and Dan needed it now. "Mom, please tell me things are going to be alright." The tears made a soft pit pat as they hit the ground. "No, you can't do that. Mom, please, please-" He choked on the words. "Mom, please tell me you love me." Silence from the other end. Silence for what may have been seconds, what may have been minutes. Then a cough. "Dan, I... I do love you." There was emotion in her voice now, too. Different emotion than Dan's. It wasn't love, but it was close. But it was the gap between that got Dan. It reminded him of his mother before this. Turning a blind eye to her husband's adultery, turning a blind eye to her boy's drug problem. Turning a blind eye to pretty much anything Dan did as well, as a matter of fact. As long as you didn't get these things involved with her life. The public one, the book club twice a month and dinner with the "girls" five days a week. Dan was wrong. There was love in her voice. Love for that life. And this was part of her love for that role, the one she always tried to fill. The suburban, stay at home, straight A child mother. And part of it is telling your son you love them, even if you really don't. But what was he playing, other than the role of the loyal son? Why did he ask her to love him, when he knew he didn't love the woman she was? His mother couldn't tell him she loved him, and she couldn't tell him he was going to be alright. She didn't love him. And things weren't going to be alright. But trying to create a relationship in the abyss that had been lacking one for 17 years wasn't going to make them better. "Actions speak louder than words, Mom." Dan said the words, and wiped the tears off his face. His family had been dead to him for years. He was alone. "This was a bad idea." Dan hit the end button. The phone slid out of his hand, and dropped to the ground. ----------------------- ((Boy 16, Dan Orvall: START)) Dan Orvall woke up, and as usual, struggled to clear his head of the natural morning amnesia. The brief few seconds after you wake, when you have no idea where you are, or how you got there. If he had realized where he was immediately, he would have struggled to hold on to that amnesia. But of course, the memories were there, fresh as ever. The Program announcement. The commotion. The douchebag with the pistol. The whole shit about the fucking collars, which he could feel around his neck. Basically, the gist of it was that if you fucked up, the collars blow the fuck up. No one kills anyone, your neck explodes. You do shit the Program doesn't like, your neck explodes. You say anti-American things, your neck explodes. And the day pack of course, which he could see was right next to him. It had... what again? Equipment and supplies. And the weapon of course. Can't forget about that shit, not when worst case scenario was everyone else in your fucking class trying to kill you. Quite a negative, particularly if you can't defend yourself. Dan zipped open the day pack, taking a look at its contents. "Food and water, check. Map and compass, check. Flashlight, and some military jacket, check. First aid kit was there, of course, just in case someone got hurt on this little field trip. Hip flask with-" He opened the top, and took a smell. "...whiskey, check. Weapon... where the fuck is the weapon?" Dan turned the day pack over, emptying its contents on the floor. He took a look around at it, picking up everything, but he wasn't wrong. There was no fucking weapon. ...What the fuck was the proper course of action to do? Call fucking Program tech support, let them know that 'Hey, you guys fucked up a little bit, don't have shit to defend myself with except for...' He finished the thought out loud. "A flask of whiskey." The one odd thing in an otherwise entirely survival geared kit. He started laughing. "That's my fucking weapon, isn't it? Jesus fucking christ, a fucking flask of whiskey. Would be a little more pissed if a shot didn't sound great right now." He put the flask down. Just a joke. Couldn't take a shot, that would be the stupidest thing to do. For all Dan knew, shit could be poisoned. Wouldn't want to risk his... actually, maybe this would be the time to start trying out some risky things. "When in Rome." He grabbed the flask, unscrewed the top, and tossed back a swig. It burned his throat, but it was a familiar burn. Something that have feel at home when in reality he was... in the middle of a fucking forest. Fucking swell. That's when Dan heard him. Typical instinctive reaction, the shouted "Hello!", a call for companionship. Even when you're playing a 'game' where everyone's supposed to be trying to kill you, it's still your natural reaction to seek company. He'd complain more about the stupidity of the kid's shout for company if he wasn't feeling so fucking lonely himself. Another kid shouted. Dan recognized his voice, just as he had recognized the first one. For the little time he spent actually conversing with the kids at his high school, Dan was fucking great at putting a name to their voice. Marley Jenkins and Jonathan Roberts. Didn't know shit about the two of them, but from the lack of, for example, screams or gunfire, Dan supposed that their conversation was at least going cordial. But, on the other hand, you can never be too careful. Especially not on the Program. Lot of people had thought the kids they knew back home were incapable of playing the Program. Lot of people were dead. Dan quickly packed his day pack, and began to creep towards the voices, taking caution to keep himself quiet. Keep quiet, don't want to run into any, you know, master killers... like, for example, that girl who- oh shit. There was a girl with her back against a tree, her attention closely following the boys. She looked scared. Dan recognized the face. Zora Spencer. He knew a bit more about her, from reputation. Nice enough girl, is what people said. He'd talked to her briefly, if he remembered correctly, at some point in highschool. She had seemed nice then. If he was gonna start trying to make allies, to make friends... to help people, he guessed, was his main goal. He had no big escape plan, or shit like that, no "Get Out Of Jail Free" card he could pull out to help them. But if he could fuck up the Program, at least inconvenience it in some way; that would be enough for him. He'd talked enough shit about wanting to fight against it, about wanting to help the people it oppressed. Maybe it was time to actually do it. "Hey, Zora." He kept his voice quiet, but friendly. He didn't want to seem like a threat, so he'd say... what, exactly? 'Oh gee, Zora, I don't know shit about you, and you don't know shit about me, and probably think I'm a creepy ass punk dude. And we're in some godforsaken hellhole where the sole purpose of being here is for us to kill each other. But hey, you want to hang out for a little bit?' Well, he had to say something. Couldn't just leave it at hey. He looked down at the ground, hoping for some inspiration, and saw the flask that he was still holding in his hands. "Uh... fancy a shot?" Edited by GameMaker, Nov 11 2012, 12:15 PM.
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| Mimi | Nov 15 2012, 11:12 AM Post #7 |
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Zora struggled to keep the boys in her sight through the pines, every so often losing sight of them completely when she’d scan in the other direction for an escape route or other threats, only to anxiously search for them once more and repeat the steps after hearing a suspicious rustle or noise in the distance. Even scarier than being exposed out in the open where anyone could find her was the fact that Marley and Jonathan didn’t seem particularly dangerous. Maybe to some people, that was a good thing, like they could just pick up from where they left off back in Milwaukee. It’s what it seemed like, sure, with the boys acting just as they would back home and joking with one another about the situation. Zora wouldn’t fall for that trick. She’d seen it too many times on the past seasons, someone relying on another person and then getting stabbed in the back for it. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake, she wouldn’t let herself get manipulated like that, no matter how much she wanted to find her friends or the safety of a group. There could only be one winner. It’s what she had to keep telling herself if she was ever going to get back to her family. She’d have to forget everyone else and forget that they all had families back home waiting for them. God would forgive her for turning her back on them. He had to. It couldn’t be His plan for her to die here, not like this. A soft rustle came from behind her, closer than any of the others previously. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach, feeling the presence behind her physically reeling around to come face to face with it. Dan Orvall was probably one of the last people she wanted to see on the island. He wasn’t mean or violent or a minority and of the few times they’d spoken, he had always been nice and polite, but his reputation preceded him. She couldn’t predict someone like that, she didn’t know if he’d turn violent from withdrawal or anything and she really didn’t want to test the limits. Instead, she fought for words after his greeting, her mouth completely dried from fear. She could only stare at him with eyes as wide as a doe’s and a mouth full of cotton while he offered her a shot, the alcohol lingering on his breath while he did so. Unable to find the pleasantries from their previous conversations, Zora said the only thing that came to mind. “Please…” She whispered, her voice hoarse and cracking, “Don’t tell them.” She hadn’t even been able to beg for her life; just for him not to give her away to the boys she wasn’t sure he’d even seen. He could kill her on the spot and all she could do was plead for him to let her win the game of hide and seek. Zora felt smaller than ever as she pushed her back against the tree, unable to coerce her legs to support her weight long enough to stand up. She was scared and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and hide under the blankets. |
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| Pippin | Nov 16 2012, 09:54 PM Post #8 |
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For the second time in the past few minutes, Jonathan realised that his course of action he had just taken might not have been the wisest choice. He had been pretty sure the figure standing a short distance away from him was Marley, but he still couldn’t be entirely sure just yet. He was pretty sure his heart stopped for a second as he realised that if it wasn’t Marley, and instead someone who’d already been persuaded to kill by The General’s words, he was dead. No questions asked, no second chances. Dead where he stood. For a few terrifying seconds, Jonathan stood, frozen where he was, clutching his “weapon” so tightly his knuckles turned white. After what felt like an age, the figure crashed through some branches to appear in front of Jonathan, and to his utter relief, it turned out to be Marley after all. Jonathan couldn’t help but grin nervously at the sight of his friend. It was great to see him, especially as he looked unhurt. Of course, Jonathan had also seen The Program before. Not by choice, not at all. He’d accidentally stumbled upon it whilst channel surfing once, and a friend had coerced him into watching a few episodes as well. But accidentally or not, he’d watched them, and he knew one thing; only one person got out. No exceptions. If there were two people at the end, they would have to kill or be killed. No matter if it was your best friend that you’d known since you were kids, or your girlfriend or boyfriend who you claimed you couldn’t live without, or even the guy who saved your life on the first day in the Program. It would be you or them. Jonathan knew this, had known it since he’d woken up, but had kept it far at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to do this whole thing alone. Forget what may happen in the future, and instead, focus on the here and now. Marley was speaking now, something about how bad their situation was, and something about the violin Jonathan was carrying. Johnny took another glance at his assigned weapon in momentary confusion, then, as he turned back to Marley, comprehension dawned across his face. Of course, that was right, Marley played violin. No wonder something so familiar and yet so out of place would have attracted his attention. Jonathan wondered whether Marley would be willing to play it at some point, maybe to lighten the mood a little bit. The thought brought Jonathan’s nervous grin back, which had been about to slip off of his face entirely. “Um... I’m not too sure, yet.” Jonathan replied, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. “I mean, my plan since I woke up was to find people... friendly people, that is! Not, uh... player-style finding people. I just wanted to find friends, and you’re here, so...” Jonathan’s voice tailed off awkwardly, to stop himself from saying anything else awkward. After a moment, he felt confident he’d regained his ability to speak coherently so started again. “I think we should either look for some more people around this general area, or get the heck outta this forest, ASAP.” Jonathan paused to look around briefly, before looking back at Marley. “By the way... what’d you get assigned? Y’know, for a weapon?” |
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| Violent-Medic | Nov 17 2012, 03:58 AM Post #9 |
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Jonathan didn't seem to have much of an idea what he was doing either, besides finding people. Well, Marley was definitely on that fucking wavelength. People. More people. Could never have enough people. That was how the proper military operated. Never leave a man behind and all that awesome shit that just didn't exist in the fucking Program. “Well, I'm down with this whole finding people thing. Uh, if we're looking for anyone specific, you mind if we keep an eye out for Ash? Just because, uh... well, you know.” Marley scratched the back of his head and shrugged. Of course, then Jonathan had to ask what his weapon was, prompting an immediate and angry reaction. “Motherfuckers!” Marley groaned, before shaking his head. “Uh, yeah, the guys who run this are dicks. Also, so is my weapon.” He rummaged around in his daypack before pulling out the red, white and blue dildo and holding it out. “What kind of fucking bullshit is this? How am I supposed to defend myself without the enemy dropping his pants first? ...I suppose a trade ain't fucking possible, eh?” Well, this was pretty good so far. Found Johnny. Next, find Ash and possibly other people. Any of the guys on the teams would be great, but there wasn't really anyone Marley would straight-out refuse to hang with. Not that came to mind, anyway. And then... … He'd figure that out later. |
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Program V2 F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me." Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.” Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 | |
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| Mimi | Nov 28 2012, 01:53 AM Post #10 |
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Rookie
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(Skipping as to avoid inactivity, sorry!) Zora had shakily risen to her feet in between pleading for Dan’s silence, fear viciously knocking her knees together as she did so. The calm she’d felt in the beginning was proving itself nothing more than naiveté and hopeless optimism now that the fear had fully gripped when faced with a possible threat. She’d started the game with the mind of a hunter, cool and collected, thinking she could skate by without ever having to deal with anyone until the end. Even then, she figured she could handle it, that that she would be just as composed. But now, her mind raced a mile a minute, her eyes darting around the area looking for outs as she begged the boy in front of her to be quiet. All of her senses felt heightened. She could hear every insect in the forest humming, every crack of a branch, every breath Dan Orvall took. The boys behind her sounded closer than ever. She could feel them closing in around her like a box, covered from every side. It was suffocating. She didn’t wait for Dan to say anything, didn’t give him the option to rethink the situation and attack her, she did the only thing she could think of—run. In one moment, she adjusted the duffel bag on her shoulder and clasped her cross in her hand and bolted in the opposite direction of the boys, allowing her body to work on auto-pilot with no concern of the noise she was making or where she was going. ** Zora Spencer, female no. 16, continued in… Hush, Hush |
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| Pippin | Nov 29 2012, 02:33 AM Post #11 |
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W A H
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((Same deal here, apologies)) So it seemed that the two of them had a plan. Not a very extensive, detailed, or really, in the long run, good plan, but a plan nonetheless. They were gonna stick together, and find people. Preferably, people that they were friends with, or at the very least, people who weren’t brandishing weapons at them. At the very least, it wasn’t over-complicated. Marley specifically asked whether they could search for an Ash, and Jonathan looked at him quizzically for a moment. As far as he could remember, there was only one person whose name was anywhere close to Ash; Ashley Sydor. As soon as he remembered the full name, however, something clicked inside Jonathan’s head. Of course Marley would want to look for Ashley, seeing as they were kinda going out and all. To be fair, though, Johnny’s mind had been focused on other things; who was going out with who was not at the top of his thoughts list. Jonathan was totally cool with picking up Ashely, though. She generally seemed like a pretty cool person, from what he knew. To Jonathan’s surprise and slight shock, Marley reacted rather... negatively to Jonathan’s question about his weapon. The quizzical look returned to his face, as the ginger boy rummaged about in his bag, mentioning something about how his weapon was a dick, or something. This cryptic statement did nothing to lighten Jonathan’s confusion, and even for a few seconds after Marley pulled his “weapon” out of his bag, Johnny simply stared at it, not quite sure what he was looking at. After a few seconds, however, his brain kicked back into working order, and he felt a faint heat start in his cheeks. “Oh...” Jonathan muttered, mouth hanging slightly open. He wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. He had anticipated a great number of things that Marley could have received as a weapon, but not... that. Slowly, without realising it, Jonathan started to smile. It was just so... absurd! The actual weapon itself, the fact that the thing had been coloured red, white and blue, the rant Marley was making, the fact that it was just so out of place to what was going on around them... it was just plain odd. And hey, anything that could brighten up a situation like the Program was fine by him. “Uh... wow, man. That’s, uh...” Jonathan realised his smile was turning into a grin as he continued to struggle for words. Seriously though, what exactly did you say to someone who’d just brandished...that? “That, uh, really kinda sucks. And as lovely as your violin playing is, I’d much rather hold onto this.” Jonathan raised his fiddle a bit as he said ‘this’. “Don’t really want to be caught waving, uh... that around. Sorry.” Jonathan tried to look apologetically at Marley, but the effect was ruined slightly by the grin still affixed to his face. “On the bright side, I think that looking for Ash sounds like a good idea. If we have someone in particular, as we do now, to look for, that should make things easier. And, of course, if we run into anyone friendly along the way, we ca-“ Jonathan instantly stopped talking, and spun round, grin wiped from his face. He’d heard something from that direction. It definitely hadn’t been his imagination or anything like that. Despite his calm now that Marley was here, he was still alert for anything out of the ordinary, and the faint rustling and crashing sounds were definitely not ordinary. “Did... d-did you hear t-that?” Jonathan asked Marley, his voice suddenly as low as possible. Without realising it, Jonathan had crouched down, tense and ready for anything that might happen. It could, of course, have just been some sort of wildlife. But this was not the place to assume things like that. In the Program, as cynical as it sounded, you had to expect and prepare for the worst, and the worst was that there was someone hidden amongst the trees nearby, watching. Jonathan looked up at Marley, trying to voice his concern with as little fear in his voice as possible. “D’you... do you think there’s someone th-there?” |
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| GameMaker | Nov 29 2012, 07:47 AM Post #12 |
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Newbie
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She turned around, and Dan saw her face go through a series of looks he was not too unfamiliar with. The initial look of surprise, the clenched jaw, the widened eyes. On the island, perhaps a standard reaction to generally anyone- given the circumstances, shock and surprise at another's voice were only natural. But even in school, he got the surprised look. Dan Orvall, speaking? What a fucking momentous occasion, at least according to the grand ol' folks down at Patriot High. And then, to complete it, the icing on the cake. The look of disgust. He'd seen it many times. A slight twist in the lip, as if they just bit into something sour. The quick flash of arrogance and reprehension in the eyes. It was the look of the popular girls, of the super patriots. The look of his fucking family. After all, he was a punk druggie with no respect for the country. What else did he deserve, except a look like that? Oh you fucking bitch... We're gonna fucking die here, if we don't work together, and I'm trying to be fucking friendly. And you just can't get by your fucking prejudice. Despite this inner monologue raging in his head, Dan kept his lips in a loose, friendly smile. He had to relax. What did he expect, that she'd open her arms and give him a big fucking hug? "Oh thank god, you drug addict, I've just been dying for a shot, particularly with someone who I've barely spoken to while I'm trying to find out which one of my classmates is gonna be the first to die. That's my fucking dream." And then her face changed again. Her eyes grew wide again, and her mouth hung wide open. At the same time, she began to back up towards the tree behind her. He had been expecting her to be a little nervous, he even was when he had seen her. She wasn't nervous. She was terrified. It made him feel worse than the look of disgust, for more than one reason. What right did she have to be scared of him? He was an unknown, sure, but she knew he was fucking anti-government, that was practically plastered on his fucking chest. Why is he the one to be feared? Why not the fucking meathead jocks? They used those fucking girls, girls like Zora, not just for the physical pleasures but to inflate their own fucking egos. They'd be the ones who'd use them to win the fucking game. But the bigger reason was that it felt good. Disgust and surprise weren't emotions, not one of any connection to the person. Disgust or flat out apathy was what he got all the time. It was the same emotional reaction one gave to a bad smell or to a piece of fucking furniture. He was there, but he wasn't there in the minds of his school, or his family, as either a nuisance or a another fixture of the setting. To the girls he was with, he was a tool of pleasure. A mutual use of each other. The drug buddies weren't any different. Their conversation was no more or less meaningful than the conversation he had with those girls, the pointless back and forth bantering. They'd make jokes, and they'd laugh, but no one ever asked Dan anything too personal. Anything about his life, anything about his interests, anything about fuckall. With his friends, it was about drugs. With the girls, it was about sex. The conversation may not revolve around it, not always, but it was always there, the elephant in the living room. It wasn't emotions towards Dan, it was reactions and uses. He hadn't seen anyone treat him with anything else in a long time. But fear... that was an emotion. You weren't scared of a bad smell. You were scared of a person. Fear has it's own intimacy to it. "Please..." He jerked his head at the sound of her voice. He had been lost in his head, just like he was when he went to work on his art. Her voice quivered and shook. She was scared. She was very scared. "...Don't tell them." He looked at her, and this time he fully saw her. Not just the face. Her jacket. Her little sundress. Her cross. Her sandals. Her hands, and their steady, nervous shake. He smiled again, looking at that face again. At her wide eyes, at her open mouth, at her pale, quivering lips. For the first time in a long time, someone had acknowledged him. He... he was there to her. He was important. To her in that moment, he was the most important person in the world. She... she cared about him. ...She looked beautiful standing like that. Then she darted. Grabbing her strap and her cross, she bolted before Dan could react. He had been too caught up to notice her eyes looking around, and he quickly closed the whiskey flask, stuffing in his pocket without even thinking about. He'd run after her. He was a fast runner, and he could go for awhile, and her head start was not impossible to make up. He'd have to be quick, but he could catch her. The moment didn't need to end. He could catch her, and make it even more intimate. Find out more about her. See her real emotions, feel that passion, feel that connection. He could find out what scared her. Find out what hurt her. What the fuck? He jolted back, and cleared his throat. What the fuck had that last thought been? What the fuck was he thinking? ...Connect with her through pain? He was disgusted. He didn't even fucking know what that meant. Is it any different than connecting with someone through pleasure? The drugs, the sex... isn't that the same thing? An attempt to build a connection that's not there? An attempt to feel something from someone other than just nothing? The voice spoke up from the back of his head, and in Dan's mind, he had a mental image associate with that voice. The same person that had told him to call his mother. A five year old Dan, sitting in his living room, playing with a train set in his mom's lap. A boy that had someone that cared for him. If we can't have something like that, isn't this a good second place? You can't make her love you. Our own family didn't, and we realized that. The girls, the "friends"... they don't either. You can't make any of them do that. But you can make them fear you. What is that, but another way to care? No. I'm fucking against the Program, for God's fucking sake. I'm not gonna hurt innocent fucking people! You're not doing this for the Program. You're doing it for you. For me. For us. For someone to care before we die. It will be so easy... NO! He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the flask. He'd felt this before, in different ways. The endless search for more drugs. The search for more girls. The search for more art, for the creation of it and the viewing of the more extreme. The search for something, anything, to fill something inside of him. A deep void inside. A hole that his fucking family had put in him. A hole that scared him. He took a huge gulp of the flask, enough to make his eyes water. It was just shock, just stress. Too much viewing of the Program, too much weed, too much alcohol. Everybody had a dark side, didn't they? If they didn't, the Program wouldn't work. The whole point was saying no to it. To making the right decision. He heard the conversation of the boys in the clearing stop, and then quiet whispering. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he guessed they had been alarmed by Zora's not so elegant exit. Either way, it was probably best to alert them to his presence, 'specially if one of them had rolled a gun and decided to get all trigger happy. "Hey guys!" He kept his voice loud, but was careful not to make it a shout. Didn't want to alert any other possible people who were playing the same game as Zora, hiding in the forest. "It's me, Dan Orvall! I'm not playing!" Oh no, I'm not playing, but hey guys, I did just have a fantasy of hunting down and torturing one of our classmates! It... it wasn't like that. It was just a brief thought, that's all. A bad one maybe, but still a brief one. Everyone has a dark side. Everyone has thoughts like that from time to time. Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Edited by GameMaker, Nov 29 2012, 07:55 AM.
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| Violent-Medic | Nov 29 2012, 09:08 AM Post #13 |
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Regular
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Johnny was grinning at him. Bastard. Marley scowled, lowering the dildo. “Kinda sucks? It's not just sucking, it's a goddamn full-on messy blowjob. ...Which is bad.” Johnny agreed to look for Ash, though, which lessened Marley's scowl a fair bit. But before Johnny could even finish talking, there was some rustling from the nearby bushes. Marley thought he heard some footsteps, but he couldn't be sure. Marley didn't crouch like Johnny did, he just squinted at the bushes a bit, trying to discern shapes. Before he could make up his mind on whether there was someone there or not, a voice yelled out. “Uh, yeah, I'm sure there someone there,” Marley said flatly in response to Jonathan's now irrelevant question. Dan Orvall, huh? Wasn't a name he knew well. He might have heard a girl bitching about him once, something about him being a player. ...Well, not a Program player, a notches-on-the-bed player. Other than that, Marley knew nothing about him. Couldn't even recall a face, really. Especially since the guy was still hiding in the bushes. Marley stared down the bushes for another moment before raising his voice and calling out, “Marley Jenkins and Jonathan Roberts! Ain't playing either! But I ain't carrying a conversation with a fucking bush, so step out of the bushes! Or I'll, uh...” Marley raised the dildo. “I'll smack you in the nose with this. And that's just fucking embarrassing, y'know?” |
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Program V2 F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me." Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.” Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 | |
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| Pippin | Dec 1 2012, 08:13 PM Post #14 |
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W A H
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Before Marley could answer Jonathan’s question, a loud voice came from the direction of the previous rustling noises. Unless Marley had a hidden talent for throwing his voice, it seemed Jonathan’s question was now rather irrelevant. Marley decided to reply anyway, in complete deadpan, stating there was someone there. “Thanks Marl.” Jonathan said, voice equally flat. “Much appreciated.” Jonathan wasn’t incredibly familiar with Dan Orvall. All he knew of the guy was that he was kind of a loner, with a few habits and interests that were a little more than sketchy in Jonathan’s eyes. Aside from that, he knew next to nothing about Dan’s personality. Surely he couldn’t be too bad, though. The piercings and tattoos were a little intimidating, yeah, but truthfully, Jonathan just couldn’t see his classmates running around, attempting to “play the game”. Not just yet. Not at the beginning. He wasn’t so naive as to think it would never happen; suspicion and paranoia always took over rational thought in the end. But at this moment in time, just after everyone had woken up, he didn’t see anyone planning to play, and that included Dan. It seemed Marley didn’t see any harm in talking to Dan either, calling out his and Jonathan’s names and telling the other boy to step out of the bushes. Jonathan wondered just how long Dan had been there. Had he been there since the start, since Jonathan had woken up? If so, had he seen the meeting between himself and Marley? Jonathan couldn’t see anything on his end, so he doubted Dan could either. He hadn’t recognised the voice at all, and for a brief second, a range of wild, paranoid theories shot into Jonathan’s head, such as What if that isn’t Dan, and just someone claiming to be Dan? Thankfully, with a quick shake of the head, these thoughts were quickly expelled. It was that whole paranoia thing, and Johnny knew he couldn’t start thinking of theories like that. Thinking of the worst case scenario would just end in tears. Jonathan was trying to push all his paranoid thoughts out of his head, and luckily, help arrived when Marley threatened to hit Dan in the nose with his “weapon”. Johnny had been trying to stay silent, but the remark caused him to let out a sudden snort of laughter, and then to hurriedly look up at Marley, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry,” Jonathan whispered. “But you gotta admit... it’s not every day you hear someone threaten to beat you up with a, uh, dildo.” |
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| GameMaker | Dec 3 2012, 08:14 AM Post #15 |
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Newbie
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Dan heard a quick snarky joke, and then the boy directed his attention towards him. Looks like he was able to keep his rapier wit even at times of emergency, at least. The boy shouted their names- Marley and Johnathan, two kids that Dan knew only vaguely- and then directed Dan to come out of the bushes. He gestured at his weapon, and Dan felt excited. He'd get to see a real weapon. Not this stupid ass flask, something that could actually... A dildo? A fucking dildo? Jesus christ... at the very least he knew Marley wasn't a threat. Johnathan wasn't either. Either he didn't have a good enough weapon to feel like it would increase his chances of safety, or he was too optimistic to believe that Dan might be a threat. Dan didn't know which was worse. But they were both in good humor, at least. Johnathan was laughing, and Marley stood holding the dildo with a goofy look on his face. Dan wondered which one of them would die first. What was he supposed to say now? What was the proper social rules for this type of scenario? At least two of them would be dead in a matter of days. They were about to go through a gauntlet of hell and pain, watching their friends die around them. What exactly do you say in the face of that? An escape plan was ludicrous, and even if you did somehow manage it, you'd be hunted like a dog by the government. Being a hero and talking all big and everything might be all well and good now, but it was only a matter of time until people began playing. Maybe they already had started to. Johnathan and Marley would almost certainly die, and die painfully. Was he going to play? He didn't know how much he wanted to win. The government was a monstrous institution, but the country wasn't much better. Cowards, racists, violent and ignorant people. He'd have no school. His family was already gone. To everyone in the country, he'd be a hated monster. No, no. One way or another, he'd die on this island. He'd die on his own terms. So what to do with his final days? To find his essential reason for living. To answer the question before he died. Moral considerations must be discarded. These people were going to die anyway. They were already tools of the government, play things to be used before they passed away. They might as well be tools for his use. Steps on a path to understanding. To fulfillment. He looked back up at Marley and Johnathan. He had been caught in thought again, and Johnathan had stopped laughing. Dan cleared his head, and began to speak. "I'm sorry... for that. It's just hard to swallow, isn't it?" As he spoke, Dan took a seat on the grass in front of him. He opened the pack in front of him, trying to find the food. "...I don't want to play. I'm sick of this country, and I'm already sick of this fucking game. But... what are we going to do?" He grabbed his water, and began to take a drink. He needed a weapon, and he had seen the first aid kit. He knew the contents from the previous Programs, as long as it had stayed the same. The scissors could suffice- stab someone in a sensitive spot with that, and it'll disable them. He just needed to wait for the right opportunity. Or maybe he'd be the one on the wrong end of it. One mistake, and he'd see things from a victim's perspective. ...That would be interesting, as well. Not the physical pain, but the idea of it- it was perhaps even the more intimate side of fear, as you were the focal point of the others desire. He smiled. It was going to be an interesting few days. |
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