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You Snooze, You Lose; Start of Cobalt Jellyfish 1; open!
Topic Started: Mar 10 2014, 06:23 AM (2,363 Views)
KamiKaze
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I'll turn Super Saiyan and save Vale... but first, let me take a selfie.
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
It was the same dream as always.

As a dancer, it was a large part of her life. Of course she dreamed about it. This time, it was supposed to be her biggest performance yet. Nervous? You bet. She stepped onto the stage, feeling the excitement pass over her body. She begun, dancing gracefully as possible. Her feet ached, but she was proud. How could she not?

Once she was done, they applauded.


Bella opened her sleepy eyes, and closed them again. She rolled over in the recliner she had been sleeping in and curled up further. She didn't feel like waking up just yet. Maybe a bit more. She was tired, and she needed it. She wasn't sure why she was in a chair, only that it was comfortable and good for sleeping in. After a minute, she opened her eyes again.

The living room she was in didn't look familiar. Not like anything in her house, or any other houses she had seen. Maybe she was sleeping over. But who invited her?

Bella buried the side of her face into the cushion, still exhausted. She had the feeling she should know why, but it wasn't coming to her.

Once she did remember, though, she was instantly awake.


After lunch, Bella had gone to her next class. Social Studies wasn't her favorite, but she tolerated it. The lesson started as normal as possible. Mr. Brown had begun a lecture on the difference between right-wing politics and left-wing. It was exactly the sort of thing that always went over her head. He had handed out a paper for them, and Bella had stared at it blankly. Once again, she didn't know the answers. It had to be something obvious.

After she deciphered a few of the questions and answered them, she heard Mr. Brown speak up.

"Class?"

Bella snapped out of her politics induced confusion, and looked up. A guest speaker? Bella didn't know who he was, but he was probably someone important, judging by the suit. She leaned out of her chair to get a better look.

The man had explained he was here because he worked for SOTF-TV. Bella knew where it was going. She had seen the documentary with Jared Clayton before, and he had described something like this. Her school though? It was something she had thought about, but never thought it would ever happen.

He began calling names to the front. It felt surreal, seeing her classmates picked out for SOTF. Bella wasn't sure what to think, until...

"Bella Bianchi."

Her heart almost stopped.


After she had pulled herself off the recliner, she rubbed her scalp, thinking.

The funny thing was, Bella was familiar with all the talk about what you would do in SOTF. She guessed it was a bit like how zombie fans would always talk about what they would do if there was an outbreak. If you had asked her before, she would have probably come up with a strategy, talk about how she would do things. And yet, when she was actually here? The hilarious part was that she had no idea. You could talk about strategy all you want, but once you're there it was something hard to figure out.

Bella wasn't sure if she could kill anyone, or... do anything, come to think of it. It wasn't something she tried to dwell on most of the time. One screw-up, and that was it. Could she become an action heroine over the course of a few days? Probably not. Then again, sometimes they made it look so easy. Maybe she did have it in her. She wasn't sure. That was what worried her the most. Could she make it? Could she do anything?

Bella decided to focus on something else.

She guessed she was on the second floor, based off what was on the other side of the glass door to the balcony.

Bella found her bag on the ground, and unzipped it. Right away, she found her bandanna. Blue jellyfish? How... odd. But nonetheless, she tied it around her wrist. It was only to prevent her head from exploding, though. Bella wasn't fond of the team mechanic last season, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go look for her team-mates.

She would look through the rest of the bag later. Right now she needed to stretch.

Bella lifted herself off her knees and pulled her arms above her for a few seconds. The gas had worn off quickly, which was nice. But Bella frowned when she realized something. In that brief moment where they were orientating them, she saw a face in the crowd of students. Only for a brief moment, but she was sure she had seen it.

It meant she had someone she had to look for.
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


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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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Ciel
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I'VE GOT 20 G RIDIN' ON THIS
[ *  *  * ]
Paisley Hopkins found her weapon in the closet of a family-sized condo, on the second floor. She also found a pair of boots that fit her well and a pair of gloves that did not. Weapons were more important, however, and Paisley found herself a broom. The broom was rusted around the actual 'broom' part so it made spinning it off difficult. Thankfully, she had a set of screwdrivers.

A sense of calm washed over her as she spun the fake-wooden handle of the broom in one hand. Nothing she could reliably damage anyone with. A shiver rolled down her back as she realized what she was considering, but really, it was only a notion. It soon passed away.

She finished spinning the rod in her hand and planted it on a table. Her fingers went to her temples as she tried her best to think. The gas still lingered in her mind but she could remember every last detail about the speech from before.

There were many bullet points on Paisley's list, details that she had to figure out in good conscious. She had just crossed one off. However, she knew four things:

One, Tucker. It went without saying, she knew Tucker had to be on the island with her. And she knew, deep down, Tucker wouldn't be able to hurt anyone.

Two, she wanted to live. That also went without saying. She wanted Tucker to live too. Paisley would deal with that later. For now, keeping both her and her brother alive was the top priority

Three, she was on a team. Even though she did not know the exact number of players in the game, the chances of Tucker even being on the same team seemed either very likely or highly unlikely. Pessimism won out.

Four, there was two ways of winning; being the last person/team member alive (was it possible for multiple teammates to win if killing one's teammates did not count?), or if she was the first person to reach ten kills.

Five, she would not, under any circumstances, go after ten kills. Not just logically, but morally. She would not.

So. That was it. Clear cut. As much as it annoyed her, playing ball and finding fellow teammates was the only way she was going to survive.

She dropped her bag onto a wicker chair and turned. The heels of her boots squeaked across the floor. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing a solitary camera pointed straight at her. A thought occurred to her. She spoke up.

"Um. Excuse me?"

Her voice was meek, so much so that she didn't hear it.

"Excuse me?"

A little too loud.

She felt silly, talking to a camera. But every last word that left Patrick Buckley's mouth was ingrained into her memory. She knew the mechanics now, but there was something he had said that caught her attention.

Paisley kept her eyes peeled on the camera ahead, shuffling away from the door and closer to the balcony.

"The man from before said that I have a team leader?" She pushed "He said that we could talk to them every twelve hours. If it's all the same to you, I'd like the opportunity to do that now."

As she finished, she unzipped her bag and flipped through the things she had neglected earlier. After all, it wasn't like she had anything better to do.
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Deamon
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A calm voice echoes out from Paisley's collar.

"Hello Paisley, I'm Eli and I'm your mentor for this season of SOTF-TV. What do you need help with?"
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G04: Yasmin "Yaz" Carrol - - I'm Dracula Bitch - "I'll be back as quickly as possible. I promise."
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Ciel
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I'VE GOT 20 G RIDIN' ON THIS
[ *  *  * ]
(I contacted Kami about jumping ahead so I'll... just do that.)

Paisley was on her knees, searching through her bag when Eli responded. She nearly jumped. It was muffled by the bandanna tied around her neck but she could make it out clearly enough. A calm man, sounding much older than her, middle aged? The voice from the collar was crisp but brief. There wasn't much in the way of distinguishing features

Part of her doubted she would even get a response. How would he even be able to contact her, anyway? She did not take her collar into account. But none of that mattered. Her mentor sounded calm, friendly. She smiled, lifting the bandanna above the metal fashioned around her neck with one hand as the other searched for the map.

"Hi Eli," she said. "I'm Paisley - though you already knew that, huh?" She laughed, slightly. There was no joke, sure, but it made her feel better. "What I need help with - "

At the bottom of the backpack, Paisley's fingers felt a rather conspicuous package. Hesitantly, she pulled it out. A condom. She quickly stuffed it into her pants pocket and coughed, smile gone.

"G-give me a second."

Putting that out of her mind, Paisley placed a finger to her temple, just like before. Well, he probably wasn't allowed to tell her who was on her team. That seemed like the kind of information that would give her an unfair advantage. Why even bother with the bandannas otherwise? Besides, if they didn't bother to tell her from the outset, what were the chances that they would tell her now?

She looked at the broom handle, draped over the nearby table. Her eyes then moved, landing on the same camera as before. Paisley sighed.

"I'll be honest, Eli. I haven't watched a single minute of this show. I heard everything from the opening ceremonies, and I know what's expected of me but..."

She already had an idea, a goal in mind, but that was like finding a needle in a haystack. Paisley hesitated, her left hand pressed over her heart. The same lips that had been so pleasant were now downcast.

"What do I do now?"
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Will
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[ * ]
((VW4: Eden Bishop – Start))

Eden stumbled as she made her way out of the bathroom, still drowsy from the effects of the gas. She dragged her “weapon” behind her and it made a high pitched screeching sound as it scraped against the bathroom tiles. She had awoken not too long ago to find that she had been placed in bathtub. At first Eden thought she might have fallen asleep whilst taking a bath at home, but she was fully clothed, the bathtub was completely dry and this definitely wasn't her bathroom. It was then that memories of when she was last awake flooded back in. She had been taken from school and placed in SOTF-TV.

Her chair switched to a soft scuffing sound as she exited the bathroom and began walking on carpet. Although she didn't have any plans on killing anyone, she would have still preferred a better weapon than a metal chair to defend herself with. Eden began thinking of ways in which she could make the chair of some use to her. She could try and break it apart and use one of the legs as a weapon, but the chair would probably be too strong to break apart. Maybe she could try waving it around threateningly at anyone who tried to attack her; that would be a sure way of scaring them off.

The bandanna she’d been given was originally tied around her forearm, but it kept sliding down, so Eden decided to make it into a bracelet instead and tied it around her wrist. According to the bandanna, she was part of the violet wolves team. This opened up another option of what to do. If she wanted to – and what would probably be the wisest decision – she could find the other members of the violet wolves and team up with them. Doing this would grant her a lot more safety than wandering around alone would, and she could ride on the team’s coattails to the finish without having to kill anyone. If she could, she would like to win the game in a peaceful way without having to hurt anyone, but this was SOTF, and everyone knows that’s not how it works. However, maybe Eden was being a bit too optimistic. She didn't know what her team could be like; they might all have terrible weapons and end up being the first team to be eliminated. She hoped that at least some of her friends were on the same team as her, she didn't want to have to compete with them.

As she continued down the hallway, Eden re-adjusted her bag on her shoulders. The effects of the gas were slowly wearing off and she could walk two steps without almost falling over anymore. Her vision was still slightly blurry though so she began to rub her eyes in response.

The hallway came to an end and opened up into a stylish lounge. There was a girl in the room stretching, turned at an angle where her face wasn't quite showing. Eden narrowed her eyes and blinked a few times in order to focus them. She recognised the girl, she was sure it was…

“Bella?”
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((SS02 Pia Malone, start))

When Pia paused to think about it, the costume was the thing that ruffled her feathers the most.

They could've given her just about anything, but they had to take the easy route and give her some run-of-the-mill skimpy thing. She liked pirates, even, but no way was she going to end up one of those girls on SOTF's Top Ten Best Fanservice countdowns or anything. Dying and only being remembered for shaking your business on TV. What a way to go.

Pia sighed. The bandana was pretty ace, at least. She slipped her headband off and tied the bandana in its place, displaying the scorpion emblem.

Small but deadly. She could get behind that.

Noise. A voice, maybe two? Pia stood and strained her ears. Someone was definitely there.

Pia edged towards the door as she managed to place the voice. "Paisley? That you, girl?"
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Deamon
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Again Eli's voice emerged from Paisley's collar.

"I would suggest trying to find the rest of the team would be your best option. After that it will be much easier to co-ordinate."
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Dakota Hightower - - The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie

SOTF SC2
G04: Yasmin "Yaz" Carrol - - I'm Dracula Bitch - "I'll be back as quickly as possible. I promise."
G19: Kris - - - - - - - Myopia

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"Two plus two is four, minus one is three quick maths"
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((BB3 Matthew Weiss, First come, first serve.))

When Matt got to the condos, he had the momentary panic and adrenaline wearing off from his encounter with the insane yeti. The biting winds and sprinkling of frost had made his shoes slick, and had mussed up his blonde, carefully maintained locks with a healthy few gusts. By the time he had shoved open the doors, stomped the ice off of his shoes, and had time to catch his breath, the cold had seeped into his bones through the thin longsleeve shirt, leaving him shivering.

With quaking hands, he adjusted his sunglasses, digging into his pack for the dull, slightly shimmery bronze T-shirt that he had received from the generous sponsors of SOTF.

Quickly, he ducked into the bathroom of the Condo lobby, a weird bamboo and waterfall deal that featured what he assumed was a wall for waterfalls and a fake palm tree. After locking the door behind him, he walked until he stood in front of one of the three small, marble sinks, pulled off his sunglasses, and stared into the mirror.

He’d shot a kid today. He hadn’t killed him, and it had been born of panic, self defense, completely reactionary.

But… still. He’d shot a kid, and maybe the cold wasn’t the only reason his hands were shaking.

He pressed his hands together, rubbed his palms. Watched as the subtle quakes disappeared and warmth returned to them slightly. Bracing himself, he took a deep, cleansing breath, then nodded at his reflection.

Okay.

He stripped off his thin sweatshirt - tying the bandana around his neck while he did so - so that his smooth, hairless, lightly tanned torso was exposed to the soft mood lighting of the bullshit therapeutic bathroom. Laying the shirt on the marble counter, he reached for the bronze coloured T-shirt, tugging it on over his naked chest, pausing to flex his pectorals in the mirror, watched the shirt shift with the muscle and sinew beneath it.

Matt had to commend the producers on their choice of fit, because damn did this shirt rock on his potentially murderous body. If he were a gay man or a straight woman, and into teenagers that were probably going to be dead within the next three days, he’d probably eat himself whole.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Matt slipped the longsleeve back over his head, moved the bandanna from neck to arm again. He leaned on the counter, tapped his fingers on it abruptly, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said, aloud.

Then he gathered the Ruger and his pack, and headed to go case the joint.

----

When he reached the second floor, he moved slower, rounding the corner with the Ruger held in front of him, the butt of the rifle solid against his shoulder as he swept the lit hallway in jerky, unprecise motions. His feet made soft squishing noises with every step on the runner carpet as he moved down the narrow corridor, lined by doors that - assumedly - led to condos.

Matt was pulled up short, however, when he saw a smaller girl knocking at a condo door.

The gun was levelled at Pia in a flash, the boy’s eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses, and the words came out - calm, low, controlled.

“What colour is your bandanna, short-stop?”
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KamiKaze
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I'll turn Super Saiyan and save Vale... but first, let me take a selfie.
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Bella stopped mid-stretch when she started hearing noises. People? Already? Some part of her figured that it would be at least a longer period of time before she ran into someone. How many were there? She could hear two voices, maybe more.

Further interrupting her thoughts was the sound of something scraping in one of the other rooms. First it sounded like it was against tile, but as it got closer it was clear it was on carpet now.

Oh, that wasn't good. Someone was in here with her, and it sounded like they had something hefty on them. Whoever it was, it was something she wasn't looking forward to. She didn't even know what her weapon was yet!

Bella turned her head towards the hallway, only to see someone familiar.

"Eden?"

A bit of the tension had dissimated from her, but not by much. The noises from elsewhere in the building kept going, and what's more, for some reason Eden had a chair. By her guess, she was trying to improvise due to a bad draw, or something along those lines. Eden was a very nice, sweet person. Bella had very good memories of her, no doubt. However, Bella resisted the urge to run up to her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be that close to the chair right now.

"Eden", she repeated, and searched for what else to say. "How are things treating you?"

Her voice came out soft.

The noises continued. It had just occured to her that it was on the same floor. Maybe even across or next to them, presuming they were in a hotel or apartment block.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.
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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Ciel
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I'VE GOT 20 G RIDIN' ON THIS
[ *  *  * ]
She and Eli were on the same wavelength. Paisley didn't smile but the thought comforted her.

"Okay," she thumbed the metal brace. "Thank you, Eli."

The thought of having to work with several other people, all of whom could have been complete strangers, troubled her. She had been operating under the assumption that they just pulled kids right out of class. But she wasn't in a classroom when they kidnapped her. So what if her kidnapping was an isolated incident, and she and Tucker were dropped in on a completely different class from a school in another part of the country?

That was, of course, just a piece of the puzzle she was going to have to put together on her own. If she were with Tucker, the puzzle would have been put back in it's box. Tucker had solved it a thousand times over. If only Tucker were here.

A lump formed in her throat. Before she could stop herself, Paisley spoke up again.

"Wait," she. "wait. There's something else."

She paced towards the door, forefinger pressed to the bridge of her collar. Paisley knew she was being stupid, illogical, but she had to ask, had to know.

"Is Tucker okay?" She sputtered. "My brother? Is he okay?"

There was more. A thousand questions; where was he, was he with anyone, what did they give him, was he scared? She was going to, too. Because her mentor had to know, they were part of the terrible machine she was in.

But then was when a voice came from the other side of the door.

Paisley spun her head. Immediately she forgot all about her barrage of questions and her voice, already meek, became inaudible.

"... Pia?"

Pressing up flat against the door, Paisley put her eye up. It was Pia. Paisley smiled, relief mixed with melancholy. She opened her mouth to speak just to let her know she could hear her, when she saw it. Only an inkling in the fringe of the peephole but unmistakably a gun. She couldn't see who the owner was; for all she knew it was being held by a pair of disembodied arms. But she didn't need to know who it was to see that it was pointed straight at her friend.

There was no time to think. Paisley gripped the knob of the door with her trembling hand and flung the door open.

"Pia, quick!"
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Slight GMing of Matt approved by The Homeless Beard))

Pia spun when the voice sounded behind her, and found herself staring down a footballer with a gun. Just perfect. She'd been so excited at the prospect of meeting up with someone she knew right off the bat that she hadn't even thought to take the gun out of her backpack, and now she couldn't go for it without her new friend Shady here catching on.

She eyed him, sizing him up. She'd been through this whole song and dance before: big guy gets in the ring and thinks he can throw his weight around without her saying anything. Most of the time, he gets his ass handed to him right after. She could handle this. Nobody ever expected little girls to fight back.

"You blind or something? It's right here on my head." was what she would have said in response to his question, if Paisley hadn't chosen right then to throw the door open and yell at her, causing her to jump to the side, startled. Shady turned and his gun turned with him, and that was all the opening Pia needed.

She reached into the backpack and curled her fingers around the handle of the gun, letting the backpack drop as she raised it, left hand bracing the wrist of her right. That's how they held guns in movies, right? Either way, it sent the intended message.

"Better cool it, big guy." Pia was pleased that there was only a slight tremble in her voice when she spoke. "You're not the only one packin' heat."
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Will
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Eden shone a relieved smile when the girl turned out to indeed be Bella. She was lucky enough to have been placed nearby a friend. Eden could only imagine what would be happening now if it turned out to be someone else instead of Bella.

Bella asked her how she was. If Eden was to be honest then things were not treating her well at all. She’d been kidnapped and put into a life or death TV show and had only been given a chair to defend herself with. In fact, the only moderately decent thing that had happened to her in the past 24 hours was that she’d woken up near someone who wasn't immediately going to blow her brains out.

“Well, about as good as things could be. I mean I haven’t died yet, so that’s a plus!” Eden said with a grin.

She was then asked if she could hear a noise. Eden stood still and strained her ears and tilted her head slightly. There were voices coming from outside the room further down the building. By the sounds of it there was a small group of people. Eden looked at Bella and nodded her head. Then one of the voices got louder as if they were shouting. Maybe they were having an argument.

“Yeah I do.” She replied.

Pausing for a second, Eden pursed her lips and contemplated what to do.

“Do you think we should check it out?”
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The Homeless Bearde
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"Two plus two is four, minus one is three quick maths"
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Matt kept the gun trained on the girl who had emerged from the condo door, his sunglasses making it ambiguous as to where his eyes were. He slid them, slowly, from the girl to Pia, the bandanna on her head gleaming.

Silver.

"You know," he began, slowly, his voice directed towards Pia as he kept the gun and his eyes on her friend, "I've already shot a kid today. And sweetheart, he could've eaten you for lunch."

The way Paisley was tilted made it hard for Matt to see the bandanna he knew was around her neck, but he got the brief impression of brown. Not good enough. He needed to see the bear insignia, needed to ensure she wasn't a threat before dismissing her.

The fiesty short girl hadn't ducked into the corridor, in a move that he interpreted as mostly posturing mixed with a hint of bravado.

"And you," he said, pointing his chin at Paisley, "turn to face me, nice and slow."
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Brandon Baxter is holding it all together. -- Keep it secret, keep it safe.
Kasumi White is writing her story. -- She could do this.

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Ciel
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I'VE GOT 20 G RIDIN' ON THIS
[ *  *  * ]
.... There was little reason to hide, back pressed up against the wall. Whoever it was had seen her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The plan had been to usher Pia into the room, buy them some time to come up with a plan. But she had not expected Pia to have a gun or for her to actually pull it out. That changed everything. Not only that, it sent Paisley a grave reminder that her pole, the only weapon she had, was on the other side of the room.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Pia had a gun and she had it tucked away. If she had known that, Paisley would have thought twice about opening the door. And now she was defenseless. Paisley didn’t blame Pia for that though. It had been a lapse in judgment.

Paisley swallowed. Both index fingers against her temples. The boy told her to come out. Paisley felt chills. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet.

Letting out a shaky breath, Paisley finally spoke up.

"... Okay. I'm coming out."

She reappeared in the doorway, her arms raised. In her mind, she was readying herself to talk him out of doing something drastic to her and Pia. In practice, all she managed was a gasp when she saw the gun trained on her. Everything stopped after that.

The boy had to be an athlete, football, with a frame like that. Clothes were flashy, casual wear, not something she’d wear to school. Just over his sunglasses, a scar stuck out across his eyebrow, faint enough to imply age but prominent enough to catch her attention. A familiar splice of brown, very familiar, around his arm, foolishly she thought nothing of it. Because she was more drawn to his face…

... Something about his face scared her. She couldn't read him, couldn’t connect the dots; his expression was clear but nothing past that.

It was the gun, she realized. The gun and the sunglasses and the expression he was making and the fact that she was completely, absolutely, one-hundred percent sure this kid did not go to Whittree.

Paisley felt her cheeks turning warm, and damp. Her eyes ached.

"Oh god," she whimpered. "Please, please don't shoot. Just let me go.”

Pathetic. But begging was the only thing she could bring herself to do.
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The Homeless Bearde
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"Two plus two is four, minus one is three quick maths"
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Posting out of order following a conversation between backslash and I.))

Matt didn't answer, staring at the bandana wrapped around Paisley's throat, squinting at the bronze colour of it, the silhouette of the bear lumbering along. He nodded to himself, then lifted his arm with his own bandana tied around it, jerking his head towards it.

"Relax, babe," he said, his tone low, soothing, "we're on the same side."

Then, louder, his head turning towards Pia. "I'm going to put my gun down, sweetheart. You going to shoot me when I do?"
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