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Rosebud; Open!
Topic Started: Mar 10 2014, 08:51 AM (1,879 Views)
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[ *  *  * ]
RF4 - WILL BRACKENRIG: START

Will Brackenrig was a boy with a plan.

He had to have a plan, didn’t he? As his school’s resident SOTF encyclopaedia, he had to have a plan. He’d been unceremoniously dropped into a situation he’d watched a hundred times over on television, something he’d mulled over in his spare moments, or discussed in depth over online forums, or chatted about in the schoolyard. For him not to have a plan was an impossibility, it had to be.

People would kill. He wasn’t going to let himself think for even a moment that that mightn’t happen. There’d been sixty-five seasons of this show before, and every time plenty of people had killed. They’d ranged from cheerleaders to jocks to bookworms to study-geeks, and everything in between. Will didn’t want to think about his friends killing, didn’t want to imagine Aidan or Lucy or Seb or Bella stooping to that level, but it was a real, legitimate possibility, one that he’d have to face sooner or later. Maybe he himself would kill - though his weapon, a full roster of his fellow competitors, seemed to make that unlikely. At least it wasn’t as useless as other things he knew the others would’ve been provided with; though its possible uses were unbeknownst to him right now, just like everything else. Any thought that passed through his mind slipped away as quickly as it arrived. Maybe it was shock, maybe he’d snapped, he didn’t know.

All he knew is that he’d been presented with two distinct endings for him and forced to pick without any chance to protest. The thought of killing sickened him to his stomach, in spite of knowing that it’d happen sooner or later, but so did the thought of dying. He didn’t want to think about his family having to cope with his death, didn’t want to think about his friends dying either. But they would, and he’d probably die too. And there’d be blood. So much blood.

Part of him felt like he should be crying, another part was supremely grateful he’d remained as level headed as he had, and the other part of him felt nothing at all. All in all, though, he knew he had to savour what he was experiencing at the moment. Who knew how long he’d remain in such a state, with the knowledge that his friends were out there, that there was a chance to gather them all up and protect them and stop them from killing? Who knew how long it’d be before he’d have to see blood, have to face up to the fear that’d once been a minor inconvenience to him but now could be so very dangerous?

All of this passed lightly through Will’s mind as he entered the Transportation Centre, barely noticing nor acknowledging his surroundings as he pushed the wide double-doors and stepped gently inside. He motioned quickly towards one of the nearest benches, the only thing drawing him towards it being its close proximity to the entranceway. Will let out a shallow sigh as he relaxed against the hardwood seat, only now enabling himself to linger on any thought that entered his mind. He pulled his backpack from his shoulders and dragged it onto his lap, once more sifting through his belongings as though he’d find some magical solution to everything hidden somewhere inside.

But there was nothing, and there never would be anything. Only the assigned rations and whatnot, the same things he’d seen pulled from competitors’ bags a hundred times before. Whenever he’d watched the show he’d always skipped these parts, wanting to get straight into the action and drama. He wished he hadn’t, now. Had they thought the same way he was thinking, felt the same way? He sure hoped they hadn’t, because if they had then the thought that he’d derived entertainment from this sort of thing made him sick to the stomach. But he couldn’t think about those sort of things now, he couldn’t. He just had to think about formulating a plan and implementing it. It ought to be simple, shouldn’t it? He’d seen it done hundreds of times before, thought about it twice as much.

No, Will Brackenrig was a boy with a plan. He had to be.

He just didn’t know what it was yet.
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Lucy Williams hadn’t known what to think when she woke up.

A lot of emotions ran through one’s head when you found yourself on SOTF, it seemed. Terror, for Lucy could be slaughtered at any time. Despair, for she were almost sure to die on live TV. Sorrow, for it was unlikely she’d ever see her family again.

But oddly, Lucy was kind of excited. A nervous, frenetic excitement with having been selected. It was strange; she was terrified, beyond all words to be sure. Anything could happen to her, but at the same time, it was like being cast for a movie. They’d thought she had star power, and would make good TV. She was probably on loads of people’s TV screens right now, all over the world. Millions of people might be watching her. She was famous now!

She was going to die, but at least everyone knew her name. That was…something, right? She needed to think on this.

Lucy had wandered around the tour building for a little bit, though she hadn’t seen anyone yet. Her bag was strung over her shoulder, unopened. She was scared to open it again, having rushed grabbing her bandana from it and refusing to peek deeper into it; if she did, then her fluid chances solidified into being good or bad. It was pretty damn cold in the building, though. But there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

So Lucy wandered a bit more. She didn’t want to say anything, but really? She was lonely. She wanted to find someone, ideally someone she trusted and knew but really? Anyone. She just wanted someone to be there, to make her feel safe and together. She was afraid to be alone, with nothing but a duffel and an unfamiliar bag, and nobody to comfort her or make feel safe or happy.

Besides, she still needed to figure out what to do here. Was she going to fight for her life? Would she try and escape? Would she find her teammates? It was all so surreal, like a dream. She was on SOTF of all things. What was she going to do?

“Hello? Anyone here? It’s Lucy!” She called, nerves welling in her chest.
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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Will’s initial reaction to the voice was to jump up, tossing his backpack to the side as his mind raced with the possibilities that might now arise. He grabbed the dossier he’d been provided with, clutching it to his chest as if that might protect him from any incoming attack. Sure, he’d been expecting that sort of thing eventually - it’d be far too naïve and idealistic to think anything else would happen - but some part of him had hoped that he’d be given just a few minutes more, just a little longer to let the gravity of the situation bring him back down to earth.

But as he began to process the girl’s words, he realised with joy that he recognised exactly who they belonged to. The apprehension and fear that’d begun to build within him instantly dissipated, replaced with a mixture of sadness and relief. It was such a freaking pity that she was here with him - she was so sweet and kind, the exact sort of girl who shouldn’t have to be in a place like this - but at the same time Will couldn’t help but be relieved that he’d found her; especially so early. He hadn’t expected an attack so soon, but at the same time being reunited with one of his friends so early seemed just as unlikely.

Will hoisted his backpack roughly over his shoulder, racing as quickly as he could in the direction of Lucy’s nerve-ridden call. Part of him regretted not exercising much back home as he paced awkwardly to where Lucy was situated, breathlessness already making itself known, but for the most part he was just so so happy he’d found her. There wouldn’t have to be the awkward introductions and constant threat of mistrust, the days of searching for her in vain before hearing her name blasted over the announcements.

“Thank fuck,” he blurted as she came into his sight. Not the greatest reintroduction in the world, but he’d apologise for it later; right now he didn’t care about that sort of thing. “Lucy! Thank god it’s you!”
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Lucy squealed in joy as Will came around the corner. Of all the people she could've run into in this place, it was Will, sweet Will. If there was anyone she was optimistic that she could trust on SOTF, it was Will. She was so excited, so happy, and she really wanted to hug him but figured it might be awkward. So she just jumped up and down instead.

"Oh my god! Will, thank god, I'm so glad to see you!" Lucy couldn't resist; she hugged Will anyway. This was so perfect! They'd be fine as long as...

Was Will on her team? Lucy's heart almost stopped, but she didn't change her expression. If Will wasn't on her team, what could she do? Any excitement she was having had dwindled away as she realized she had no clue who was on her team. Heck, what if it was a bunch of strangers? Or people who played, even. Lucy didn't think she wanted to play; she tried to imagine murdering someone but it just sounded wrong.

And now she realized even if she lived it was pretty damn likely all her other friends wouldn't. At most, a team of 5 and a 10-kill winner could make it out, so that made up 6 people and had some hefty limitations; teammates or murderers, or hell if they could escape that'd work but how often did that work out? Lucy didn't think that'd pan out at all.

She tried to control her breathing. The more she thought, the more she realized all her friends were doomed. This sucked, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Lucy did a hair flip, and gave a carefree grin. "Hey, so you doing alright? This is definitely a uh, a situation we're in, huh?" She set down her bag on the floor; the strap was biting into her slim shoulder.
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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A grin stretched across Will’s face as he was caught in Lucy’s embrace, her enthusiasm proving infectious as he firmly reciprocated the hug she’d given him. He was glad to see that her cheerful demeanour remained undiminished, even in a place like this. Sure, all of that might change later, but all of that was in the future and didn’t warrant thinking about just yet. For now he’d been reunited with one of his best friends and they were both in one solid piece, which was better than anything he could’ve expected. If he could find Lucy so easily then maybe he could find Sebastien and Aidan and Bella and maybe, just maybe everything would be okay. But that was thinking too far ahead, and he couldn’t afford to do that; not until he had a plan. For now he just had to focus on Lucy and ensuring that she was perfectly alright.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, in response to her query. Back home, words like “okay” and “good” and “fine” had always been spouted out whenever somebody asked how he was. It’d been common courtesy back then, not wanting to lumber anybody with any issues he had - not that he’d ever had that many to begin with. But here, saying “I’m okay” and actually meaning it was one of the best feelings in the world, a feeling Will suspected he would’ve have for very much longer.

Lucy slid her backpack from her shoulders and deposited it on the ground and Will followed suit, before gingerly plopping himself beside it. He patted the ground beside him, fingers tapping against the patterned linoleum as he invited Lucy to join him. They’d have to be a bit more vigilant in awhile, but for now he figured they were free to relax and talk.

“A little frazzled, but that’s normal, I guess,” he continued, offering her as comforting a smile as he could. “What about you?”
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Lucy was glad Will was alright. At least for now, they would be fine, and in SOTF ‘fine’ is a lot better of a place to be than “dead”. As long as you were still alive, you had hope, right? So hopefully things would be alright.

She nodded, carefully setting herself down on the cold linoleum. It wasn’t frigid in the building, which was good, but it was much colder than sunny Albuquerque, so Lucy was finding herself to be shivering something fierce. She hoped there was someplace warm here.

“I’m about as okay as I can be, so that’s good.” Lucy said with a chuckle. “I’m glad you’re safe though, Will.” She breathed into her hands to warm them. Of course the winter season would be the one season in a cold place. She hoped she didn’t straight-up freeze to death.

“I actually haven’t gone through my bag yet. Maybe there’s something warmer than this in there.” Lucy pulled her bag over towards her, and briskly unzipped it. The first thing she found was a large black and white ball of fabric, which she eagerly pulled from the bag. Unfolding it, however, revealed something she hadn’t expected; it took a moment, but Lucy recognized the French Maid getup.

“Pfft.” She shook her head. It was a fanservice outfit, and not one that’d help keep her warmer, so she tossed it aside. “Lemme see if there are any clothes in here.” She reached in again, and dug around some more.

Her hand slid against something cold, metallic and hard, and she winced. She gently took it in her hands, unwilling to look at it, and pulled the offending object from her bag.

The szabla was a beautiful, curved Polish sabre, though all Lucy could tell was that it was a neat sword. But a neat sword was still a sword, and Lucy wanted very little part in being armed with even that. Still, better a sword than useless junk, and it wasn’t like anyone was forcing her to use it. She let out her breath and held the sword flat in her hands.

“Well then.”
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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A voice emanates sardonically from WILL'S collar.

"Not to interrupt this heart-touching reunion and all... You guys are on separate teams. Have fun with that, kid."
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Will sat still as Lucy sifted through her backpack in search of extra clothes, reassured that she was okay and having already taken stock of his belongings. He’d been given a cookie costume for his fanservice outfit - a white chocolate and macadamia nut cookie, to be precise, and the same laugh he’d uttered when he’d pulled it from his bags was repeated when Lucy removed her own - a French maid’s outfit, or something similar. It made sense, really - Lucy was fit and athletic and bound to suit something like that, whereas he was only good for comedic purposes, he supposed. He thought about talking about their costumes, but found himself unable to find words once Lucy had retrieved her only other unique item from her bag: her weapon.

A knife. That was much better than a roster - when it came to protection, at least, though he hoped they wouldn’t have to put it to use for awhile. Will was about to comment upon Lucy’s sabre and produce his own draw when the voice of his mentor suddenly echoed from his collar - causing him to jump back slightly in shock - his words chilled and sardonic in tone and shattering in content. Different teams. Will had known that already, of course, having scoured the roster of his friends’ names almost immediately upon realising what it was, but to have it reiterated to him was not what he wanted right now. It was forcing the two of them to finally acknowledge what was happening, stripping them of the few minutes of peace that he’d wanted so very much. They’d been fully tossed into this game and made to focus on what was happening, no matter whether they had any plans or not.

And, just like the last several minutes, Will still had no idea what to do.

Will let out a low whistle and buried his head in his hands, rubbing his hands against his face. He needed to focus, needed to come up with a plan that worked for both him and Lucy and the fact that they were on opposing teams. He couldn’t up with anything, and it was causing frustration and fear to bubble within him - sensations he was pretty unfamiliar with and with which he had no idea how to cope.

“Lucy, I’m so sorry,” he began, refusing to let himself cry or allow his voice to waver. He didn’t want to have to be so direct, but at the same time he didn’t want to give her false hope or perk up her optimism where it’d only lead to disappointment. “I-I-I... I don’t know what to do.”
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Lucy's attempts at being collected and comfortable were interrupted by a faint voice; it came from Will, so she assumed it was his mentor. Naturally, the strange voice decided it was an appropriate time to reveal that no, they weren't on the same team.

Thanks a bunch. She didn't even know who it was.

Still, Lucy didn't want Will to freak out. Panicking and getting upset led to nothing good, and Lucy needed to try and be optimistic, or she'd fall apart. Then what would she do?

"It's okay, Will." Lucy smiled. "We'll be fine, we'll figure something out. It's only been a few hours, we've got plenty of time to figure something out." She reached out to pat his shoulder.
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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((SP2: Isaiah Hall continued from OT))

Isaiah had one of the best times on the forty yard dash, so despite the sprint being longer than forty yards he still made good time. Made him wonder why he had never tried out for the track team, he could have probably won at that as well, it can't have been too difficult to run fast in a straight line. Hell he did that for football anyway.

He slowed down as he reached a building with a large smiling sun painted on the side. If Isaiah was being honest it was gaudy as fuck and looked stupid to boot. He dropped his two bags and took some deep breaths. The adrenaline had finally started to wear off and he was out of breath. He had gotten away with it though, he grinned at that. His leg was also starting to hurt looking down Isaiah saw a cut across his thigh with blood slowly running out of it. It stung like a bitch too. Luckily it just seemed to be superficial, just a shallow cut and nothing more. He had gotten lucky, but at the same time, if the kid hadn't turned when he did it would have gone off perfectly. So Isaiah felt more like a victim of circumstance on that one.

Regardless he'd have to bandage it up, couldn't just bleed everywhere. He pulled a bottle of water out of pack; being careful not to crush his subway. As he took a long drink Isaiah looked around, didn't seem to be anywhere else that was closer or safer than the building he was standing in front of. Packing his water away Isaiah hoisted both bags onto his shoulders and pushed the door open.

He had taken about five steps into the building when he heard talking. Isaiah closed his eyes rolled his head back and sighed. It had been a good plan until people had to already be in the damn place. Isaiah turned and looked at where the voices had come from. He recognized one of the two as Lucy and the other guy he recognized vaguely, his name began with a W? Isaiah didn't really know since he never really paid much attention. He wasn't threatened by either of them, plus he was friends with Lucy so there was no reason to back out.

"'Sup guys?"
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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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Will gratefully accepted Lucy’s pat, tilting his head to the side as she placed her hand on his shoulder. She was so sweet, so optimistic. It was good to have someone like her by his side, someone who could drag him out of the rut he’d been making for himself and make him feel a little better after his mentor forcibly and unceremoniously dragged him down to earth.

“Yeah,” he said softly, a warm smile passing over his features. “Everything’ll be fine. Thanks, Lucy.”

He didn’t believe that at all, not for a second. Will wasn’t a pessimistic guy, not by a long shot, but he’d seen enough to know that there were no happy endings for the contestants, that people wouldn’t just cast their weapons aside and protest against the game. The best he could hope for was that neither he nor his friends succumbed to what they’d been forced to do, that they’d be able to find each other and come to terms with everything. No, he didn't believe that everything would be fine, But if that’s what Lucy wanted, if that was her way of coping, then he could at least pretend it, couldn't he? She was his friend, and he in no way wanted to burst her bubble. It’d keep him distracted for awhile, give him something else to focus on, some point for him to pursue.

Before either of them could speak further, they were interrupted by the arrival of another Davison kid; Isaiah Hall. He and Will hadn’t talked much back at school - not beyond typical greetings in the hall and the like - and they generally moved in different circles, but he seemed nice enough and he figured Lucy might know him through sports, which was good enough for him at the moment.

“Hey Isaiah,” he said, offering the newcomer a gentle wave. “Yeah, I’m doing alright. What about you, dude?”
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Lucy really hoped Will felt better. He said he did, but Lucy doubted it. God, she was so bad at this. She had no clue what to do now; there was nothing she could do, really, nothing would keep her alive for more than few more days other than killing or getting lucky and making it to the end with her team. And that wouldn't save Will or anyone else.

But losing home wouldn't help. She needed to stay strong for as long as she could. If she just gave up and laid down to die that wouldn't help. There was always a chance; it could go like that one season with the collar malfunction, or she could find someone smart who'd organized an escape. There was always hope, right? If she quit she was throwing away the chance to live, slim as it might be. So she couldn't give up.

A familiar voice issued a greeting from behind, and Lucy turned to see Isaiah. He was bleeding, too, from his leg. "Oh my god! Isaiah, are you okay?" She clambered to her knees, sword still in hand, and stood before moving over to him.
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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Isaiah looked down at his leg. "Oh this?" He motioned to the cut with his weapon. "Some guy tried to rob me". He made show of dropping his two bags to one side. "It didn't work out though." He said with a grin. Lucy moved over and Isaiah threw his weapon on top of his bags. "It's not too deep, but it's bleeding like a bitch."

He crouched down and started rooting through his bag trying to find his first-aid kit. He felt a little bit bad about lying to Lucy the way he was. Will, not so much. But it was either that or be honest and say he'd attacked and robbed the first person he'd seen. Isaiah already knew how well that would go down. It was better for everyone and everything if he just kept shit simple and kept it a secret. In the meantime he had a leg wound to deal with.

"There you are motherfucker." Isaiah said as he pulled the first aid kit free of his bag. Carefully moving around Lucy he set himself down on one of the benches and stretched his leg out in front of him. "So anyway," He said as he started getting to work wiping his leg with a wipe. "How's it been going for you guys anyway?" He ran his eyes over both Lucy and Will, trying to take note of their bandannas. "Like what teams are you on?" He tapped his own bandanna with his left hand as his right pulled the gauze out of the first aid kit to emphasize his point.

It was a team a game after all.
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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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People had started going nuts already? That was a pity, but an inevitable occurrence, he supposed. It sucked that Isaiah had to go through that shit so early - he was a pretty cool guy, as far as Will was concerned - but getting upset over it and swearing revenge wouldn't do anything. Isaiah seemed to be pretty on-par with fixing himself up; Will guessed he probably wasn’t a stranger to injuries, what with all the sports he played, which was perfectly outstanding in Will’s eyes. Even taking a momentary glance as the gash that ran its way down Isaiah’s leg was enough for his stomach to do a backflip and for queasiness to leech into his chest. He wanted to help, he really did, he didn’t to just sit there while Isaiah patched himself up, but he had to choose between offering some support - which would’ve probably amounted to standing there with a gormless look on his face; he was as good at first-aid as he was at any form of exercise - and finding some way of helping that didn’t end in him throwing up or growing faint.

He didn’t even need to think about which option to take. Will knew he wasn’t the smartest tool in the box, but he wasn’t stupid. Best to leave the medical stuff to the guy who actually knew what he was doing. Before he could turn to Lucy and once again ensure that she was alright, Isaiah asked them what teams they were on, motioning towards his bandanna. Will bent down to roll up the cuff of his slacks, before revealing a length of fabric that he then vaguely gestured at. He’d tied his own bandanna around his leg and beneath his trousers shortly after waking up, figuring that way it’d be out of the way so as not to inconvenience him, yet easily accessible if he needed to provide proof of his team designation.

“Rose Foxes,” he said, simply. He was about to mention his roster, offer to list all of Isaiah’s teammates, but decided against it. It wasn’t as though he didn’t trust Isaiah, far from it, but it was one of his only advantages and he was reluctant to give it up almost straight away. Besides, maybe Isaiah didn’t really care about that sort of thing - it would be silly to start spouting team names and who was with who if it wasn’t needed.

“And... I’ve not been up to much. Woke up, walked in here, and met Lucy, thankfully! That’s about it, really.”

He turned back towards Lucy and offered her a reassuring smile. There was a part of him that doubted everything was as cheery as it seemed with her, and he didn’t want her characteristic optimism to be sucked out of her this early - something Isaiah’s injury had given an opening for.
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Lucy turned to look at Isaiah as he walked past her. "Alright. I'm glad you're okay, things must already be getting crazy, huh."

Despite her casual response, Lucy was experiencing a lot of internal turmoil. People were already playing? They were certainly making aggressive moves, and that could easily be a gateway to directly playing. This was dangerous already, and that scared Lucy. What was she going to do? She didn't want to die, not like this, and definitely not early on.

How was her family reacting? She'd gone out for a walk and just not come back. Would they know to check the TV? Her friends who were watching now, praying for her safety, how did they feel? They must be so upset. It wasn't fair that their school was taken, that Lucy was taken. Why her, of all people, what had she done to deserve this? She was a good girl, a nice person, why did she have to end up on this fucking show, what was the point-

As the mental storm raged, Lucy took a silent, deep breath and checked her composure. If she panicked now in front of Will and Isaiah, she'd make a fool of herself and probably ruin her chances at staying with them. So poise and serenity were key now as she snapped back into reality. Isaiah has asked about their teams and what

"I'm on, Ivory Sharks? I guess." Clasping her hands behind her back, Lucy swung back and forth like a little girl. "As for what I've done, I've...basically with Will. We just woke up, really."

Alright, good, a nice logical answer. Now to propose a counterquestion to keep the ball rolling and figure out a solid plan. "So uh, we're all on different teams, right? Should we consider an alliance for now?"

Alliances were like friendships, allies like friends. Perhaps more forced and less bonding-based, but right now Lucy just wanted to have people to have her back.
TV2: Died, Didn't Do


SC2: Attempt Number Deux
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