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wAtCH thIS giRl gEt SokAiNg wET; PM Me First
Topic Started: Aug 16 2017, 04:29 PM (1,151 Views)
Bikriki
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[[Nekkid Mandy, continued from Oh Man, Not THIS Again?]]

Truly, there was no greater feeling then to shake off the cold with a hot shower.
Edited by Bikriki, Aug 19 2017, 09:36 PM.
Program v2
O F21: Amanda White DEAD (Hedge Clipper)
||Awakening|Cowardice|Reflection|Rising|Meeting|Return||

TV v2
Vincent Holway GIVEN AWAY (Bolo Knife) |>=<
Lisa Toner DEAD ||Ladies|Boys||

SCDos
Amanda White ALIVELaing - Zeig Deine Muskeln
||Fashion||
Vincent Holway DEAD
||Impressions|
Summary: Vincent's meat gets engulfed by a warm hole, finished by a warm fluid entering his throat, the woman in question is impressed for once
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Brackie
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((Jason Andrews continues from The Land of Shadow))

Jason's run had slown to a walk the further he saw himself from the tar pits and the more certain he was that Paris wasn't following him. He heard voices, shouts, a sound he was certain was a gunshot at one point although it could very easily have been someone hitting something pretty hard, but he kept going.

He wasn't going to finish this the same way he started - running around with only a vague idea of what the hell he was going to do.

The thing was, Jason wanted to live. He wanted to leave this island. He knew this was a zero-sum situation and he knew that a shitload of people were going to have to die for him to be the positive recipient of it. He knew that this meant abandoning friends for his own gain, letting people die, seeing people die, surviving on his own, and eventually, killing someone. He knew, one way or another, that to live he'd have to play by the terrorists rules. Parts of them he was fine with. Others, he wasn't.

Namely, he had no idea how the fuck he was going to kill someone.

Yeah, he'd thought about it - what loner hadn't? The year or so before he met Amanda and Kyran and stuff was awful and he was invaded constantly by thoughts of what it'd be like if everyone he was in class with was no longer there. He'd settled down since then. Half because he gained some goddamn common sense, half because he had people in his life he didn't hate anymore, and another bloody half because he figured out pretty quickly if he got too curious then one day he was going to look it up and then he'd be on some fucking watchlist and he'd never be able to work at a place with a guy's name in the company title, which at one point was all he wanted and now seemed like utopia.

And even from the island on paper, he didn't really have much data to draw off of. As far as he knew, there was only one of these things that had happened. Nick Reid made it off the island after killing the most amount of people of anyone there, but he also pretty much got that way by hunting down everyone else who tried to kill more than once. Not many options besides just replicating something that already worked once.

So that was pretty much where he was at right now. Jason was going to live. He wasn't going to be nice about it, at least to anyone who he didn't give a damn about. He wasn't going to help anyone but himself. But he wasn't going to kill anyone until he had to.

There was a comment about best-laid plans that seemed all too appropriate here, but Jason was not nearly well-read enough or critical enough of his own ideas to run it through.

It occurred at some point in his trek that he hadn't checked which way he was actually walking. The thought of stopping and checking his bearings crossed Jason's mind, but as he mulled it over he recognized the echoes of running water. It sounded like it was coming from inside somewhere, which pretty much narrowed down where he was.

Of course, the fact there was running water probably meant someone else was there. Someone who had stuff. Stuff he could probably take if he felt like it, if it was good enough. Or it could be a trap set by someone thinking further ahead than he was, or someone just left the water running and they were gone ages ago.

Oh well, he was walking in the only front door of the building, so no going back now.

He passed by some toilets, one of which had a door swung wide open, the only one in the room like that. But none of these were a shower, so he wasn't interested right now.

But Jason reached the open showers and suddenly wished he hadn't been so curious.

It's not often you see a friend naked. Especially when they're not the kind of friend you really envision naked. But Amanda White, Jason's best friend since middle school at the latest, was currently standing dead centre in the middle of the entire room of showers, with every single one of them on, every single showerhead rotated slightly upwards as to hit here where she stood. Oh, and she was naked, not sure if that was clear. She was facing one of the walls, not aware he was even there.

Jason was momentarily struck dumb and rooted. Every plan he'd come up with since awakening several hours ago slipped from the corner of his mouth. He watched the water drip down her form. His left hand relaxed from the grip on his estoc, as he stood there, watching.

And then several seconds later, he remembered who exactly he was looking at. And it came rushing back like the water.

"...fucking hell, Manda."

He wasn't sure if she heard him over the torrents, but he turned away, facing back towards the toilet stalls. Jason didn't feel like watching his naked best friend longer than he already had.
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One by one, the shower heads stopped.

Of course, Amanda knew she only had a few seconds of true bliss, but she still would have longed for more. Being rained on from all sides by water, it had been a sensation she had wanted to experience for so long. To think that she would have finally gained this memory in those circumstances...

Well, in any other situation, her Pa and her Ma would've chided her for wasting all that water. For making such a mess for such a silly thing. And honestly, in any other situation, Amanda would have agreed completely. But now she was thrown into a death game, and she had seen what this meant. She had seen what those classmates did just because they got a weapon and a scar in their head.

The torrent's noise got more silent by each second, and soon enough, the water stopped. And with it, there was a brief silence. A splash or two as Amanda shifted her position, and the sound of water running around the drain. Otherwise, nothing. Even her own breathing seemed to be not there.

Amanda opened her eyes, and looked to the side. To see Jason brought a smile to her face.

Water still went over her body, over every toned muscle and down her pearly skin. There was no towel she could use, so all Amanda had to dry herself was time and air. That, and maybe someone else to rub off. But she wouldn't know if that was a good idea.

Amanda continued to smile at Jason. Her face was wet with water still, and she had to lick the droplets around her lips off before she even dared to speak.

"Hello."

It was the most sincere, the most pure, and the most happy and yet also the most calm 'hello' that Amanda had ever given.

She stepped closer to Jason, until only one's body length separated them.

"Care to try this too?"
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Brackie
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Jason was still not facing his naked friend. But he could tell she was bizarrely calm. Stupidly calm. The calm that pretty much said she didn't care, and that was bullshit because the Amanda Jason knew back home always gave a shit.

This was a conversation to be having with her though, not about her in his head.

"You know what, I'm good. Showered before I came here."

He paused.

"So you think you can find your clothes and stuff? Not gonna lie, Manda, I'm pretty uncomfortable right now."
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"...oh."

She had forgotten that she was naked. How one was able to look at the toned and flawless body of hers - with the water gently flowing down every curve, accentuating the feminine forms complimented by years of athleticism - and forget that it was a naked one was truly incomprehensible.

Amanda folded her arms, pressing her own breasts against her body. She nodded softly.

Then, she went for a bag, which she had carefully placed in a corner of the room. After all, it would have been inconvenient to get it wet. She leaned forward, so that she could open the bag and pull her stuff out. As she did so, she shook her bottom, which was pointing in Jason's direction.

NEKKID MANDY: CONTINUED ELSEWHERE

"So..."

Amanda turned around and walked back to Jason. She had dressed herself completely, bar shoes and socks. The danger was too great that she would step into a puddle and soak them wet.

"You look... more ragged than usual. Did something happen?"
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Brackie
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If Amanda was up to anything before she put clothes on, Jason wasn't paying attention. It was for the sake of his sanity that he wasn't going to start thinking of his best friend that way. Considering she was the one piece of normalcy he had left right now, even though she was acting less than normal, it was the right decision in Jason's mind. He could get laid once he left the island, if he even wanted to.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amanda return with clothing on. He faced his friend again. For a moment, he thought he could reclaim the normalcy, shoot the shit like they always did in between sets or hanging out at her place. Of course, she had to ask why he looked worse for wear. Jason could have lied about the patches of dirt still coating his navy jacket and pants, or the sword protruding from his bag awkwardly. He could have made something up about getting jumped earlier, and how he had to fight the attacker off.

But he probably would have had to lie, and Jason wasn't any good at that. There was a reason (among many) he wasn't part of the debate team, and that fact was high up the list. So right now, he kind of had to hope.

"Oh. Well, I guess I tried to mug someone. Friend of theirs tried to fight me off. Then I ran. Now I'm here."

He paused.

"That's me, I guess. Besides the shower, what've you been up to?"

Hope that Amanda was okay with him doing whatever he had to do and the millions of tiny stops along the way. More for her sake than his.
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Amanda nibbled on her lips for a moment. Jason had asked what she had done so far - aside from the thing with the showers. But aside from the thing with the showers, she really hadn't done anything meaningful thus far. Still, she tried to come up with something. In fact, she was thinking so hard about Jason's question she forgot for a moment that he had mentioned something different.

Then, the words 'I' and 'mugged' entered her mind again. And slowly, but surely, Amanda put them into the proper context.

She nibbled even harder on her lips.

"Nothing much." She answered truthfully. Oh, aside from "well, I did see two people fighting which was crazy I guess."

Amanda had a bit of trouble thinking how she should approach the topic of her friend - one of the few her age - mugging someone. She settled on something natural.

"..are you injured?"
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Brackie
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Amanda's time pre-shower probably wasn't interesting enough to tell Jason outside of the crib notes. Part of him wanted to know who she saw fighting, but he didn't really care, to be perfectly honest. There was always the chance they had a pretty sweet weapon he could track down and take for himself, but what were the odds of that? Pretty low.

"Nah, I'm fine. Got knocked down a bit but nothing serious. You should see the other guy."

Jason felt his nerves get the better of him at the end of that sentence.

"I mean, he's fine, I guess, I didn't kill him. Or really even hurt him. He just...yeah."

As he finished, he wandered backwards, facing the sinks at the wall. Sliding the bag and sword from his shoulder, he sat himself down on the dirty cement floor, under the sinks and facing his friend. He'd kept himself going most of the day through willpower and adrenaline, like fielding after an all-nighter, and he needed a moment's reprieve. Just a moment.
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Bikriki
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"He just... yeah."

Amanda echoes. There was really nothing else she could say, or? It reminded her of something - or rather someone else. Some of the older people she knew here and there tended to tell her stuff that bordered on being inappropriate. Amanda had mastered the technique of just nodding and smiling. She felt it was usable here as well. Maybe Jason wasn't talking about how his brother stole their parents' inheritance and fled to Belize with a Byelorussian hooker, but it was in the same ball park.

Jason wasn't a bad man. He hadn't killed anyone. He even said he didn't hurt anyone.

Still, she had no idea how to talk about that.

So she did not.

"So..."

The wet spots in her clothes suddenly became way more uncomfortable. She wished she could have just removed them again.

"I'm glad you're still fine. Let's not do anything hasty now..."
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Brackie
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Like try to mug someone for their gun, ammo, and possibly more? Great idea, Manda.

"C'mon now, when have I ever done anything like that?"

Jason smiled. It felt weird to do so, considering the circumstances, even if it was only for a brief moment in time. The normalcy he'd longed for just in reach, a light through the pindot at the end of the tunnel. A place where the island didn't exist, where he didn't have to go and deal with a bunch of fellow teens who were all ambivalent on him at the best of times. A time where the only thing he had to deal with was Amanda White and her wetness, and not the fact that to so many other people his name was in red and the friendly fire was off.

But he couldn't go in that direction. The light at the end of that tunnel wasn't the sun. It was a furnace.

However long he'd been smiling, it faded. His head hung between the knees jammed up to his chest as he sat on the dirty bathroom floor. Jason let the silence overwhelm him.

Until he broke it.

"I don't want to die, Manda."

Jason looked back up at his friend. He didn't know what he was expecting from her. A comfort? A lie? An acceptance of the truth, something very similar to what he'd gone through?

He didn't know what was going through her head.
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"Me neither." Amanda blurted out. Even before she could think about it, or the ramifications of what she just said.

But it was true, wasn't it? She did not care a lot for her classmates. Didn't wish them any ill either, but if they died or not was largely a matter she had trouble caring for. Oh, of course, there was Jason. But Jason was the exception.

So yes, that was it. Amanda did not want to die. And she did not care if her classmates did or not. For the most part, again.

Amanda looked on the ground, biting her lips. The wet spots on her clothes grew even more uncomfortable. She would have loved to say something. Something meaningful, that somehow brought the two of the closer to a solution of sorts.

It wasn't her forte, though.

Somewhere, the last drops of water escaped from a shower head.
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((the formatting (mostly) ends))

have to run have to run no hes
getting closer no no please
closer closer so close too close dont kill me dont kill me i dont want
to die
She was safe, she couldn't hear him anymore

so she slowed down and saw some sort of brick building, whose door she began to nervously approach while ambient noise continued on








And Rachael's weak ankle betrayed her. She stumbled and something else stumbled, flying across the infinity of the unknown, unfathomable space that was the space she couldn't see with her own two eyes, behind her own head, where monsters and nightmares dwelt.
And the black figure found her.

Rachael's body screamed for respite, for rest perhaps eternal, but Rachael herself screamed aloud, in that alien gazelle hyena voice she didn't recognize. She screamed and screamed as much as her faltering breath would allow, as much as the presence of something malicious on her chest would allow
as much as the hands on her throat would allow

Rachael desperately swiped and clawed, once more, she had to get the hands on her throat off
there was flailing, blood dripping, tears and sweat and

Give up. It's over, they've won.
I want this torture to end.


Still, Rachael fought with that viciousness that didn't belong.
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TwoThirty(e)
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He couldn't see her anymore, he slowed down too much, he wanted to give up, but he couldn't. His calf needs to be treated.

But here he was again, at the showers. He slowly walked near it. He saw her. There she was again.

A last sprint before finally catching her while exclaiming in a cheery voice.

"Tag! You're it!"

He giggled like a child. He dropped his gun to wrap both of his hands around Rachael's throat.
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Brackie
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There wasn't really anything to say after Amanda's response. He couldn't ask her what she planned to do. They were friends. It wasn't smart. She probably already had some sort of idea of what path he was going down himself, but to ask her if she planned to do the same thing put her at risk, more than him.

So he looked up at her and tried to ask something else.

"So what-"

Tried was the operative word there. Because before he could finish the rest of that sentence, a scream erupted from somewhere outside the building the moment the 'w' formed in his mouth.

Jason shot up, bag already on his shoulder. The sword was already starting to fall, so he took it with his other hand before it hit the ground. It was an awkward dance of pretending that was the plan all along and not something he had to make up on the fly. For a moment it looked like he was trying to perform a balancing act, but the next he had his veneer of confidence on.

His voice was reduced to a whisper.

"We need to hide. Now."

Hide was the only option. This building had one door in, which meant only one way out.

Jason's vague plan teetered on the edge of vague failure.
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Rika Furude
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Good news: Tina's eye wasn't gouged out.

Bad news: Still hurt like a bitch.

She could still see when she forced her eye open with her finger but it hurt so much. Despite having removed the wood splinter and washing her eye with a water bottle more than one time, it still felt like it was under her eyelid and it rubbed against her cornea. She assumed it looked horrible, it was probably red with a huge scratch drawn across it.

Still, she continued toward the showers. She headed there because that's where Natali was supposedly assaulted by Blaine. He could have left after but he could also be camping there since there was water. She assumed she could drink the water from the showers, if there was running water that is. It was probably fine to drink, maybe taste a little rusty.

She knew she was on the right track when she heard screaming a girl. Maybe that was Blaine's shtick, attacking girls and like beat them up. In Tina's case, she had it coming because she didn't manage to kill him but she didn't know if Nat was the kind of person to attack people at random. She assumed otherwise, Nat was a softie that hid her gun from Tina and didn't even fire it at her.

As she creeped closer and passed her head by the corner of the building, she saw the dark figure towering over the girl, with his hands wrapped around her neck. Tina raised her gun and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Pulled the trigger again.

Click. Click.

Oh, she had forgotten to reload. Her neck and her shooting arm slid back to her body, putting her back against the wall. This could have been a deadly mistake. She could have died if she hadn't noticed it earlier and met an opponent on her way there. It was a fluke she couldn't repeat. She had mistakes, and they could have killed her. She couldn't afford to repeat them.

The girl kept screaming, alert the whole world in her earsight of her position. Tina crouched and tuned out the sound of the girl. Nobody would blame her for letting a girl die here. People had to die so she had to go home. If Blaine killed someone, Tina wouldn't be angry. If anything, that'd give her another reason to shoot him. She let the magazine inside the Type-7 fall out of the gun into her lap and slid the loaded magazine inside. She peeked around corner, seeing the struggle was, well, still struggling and started loading the second magazine with bullets.

Loading it was hard because she had one good eye and an eye who was shut closed. She slid a bullet, one by one until she reached the lucky number seven. Her gun was fully reloaded and her back was also ready for action.

A thought ran through her mind, what if the girl was Amelia or Cecile? What would she do? She should do nothing because that's exactly what Tina wanted. If they died and Tina didn't need to put them down, that's what she wanted. Tina wanted to go home above all rest, nobody mattered other than Tina Luz. It was selfish thought but a needed sacrifice to go home.

She peeked through the corner again, seeing Blaine manhandling the girl, Tina felt bad. It must be painful but at least it wasn't Tina that was under Blaine's hands, and that's the only thing that rang through her head as she retreated back behind the wall, with her gun ready to kill the winner.
Edited by Rika Furude, Sep 3 2017, 05:21 PM.
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Bikriki
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...what.

Again? Did people again have to fight? Like this, like, right now and here?

Amanda shook her head.

She could not believe it.

But it was something. Something that meant they'd have something to do. The two of them - Jason and Amanda. They got something like a plan, even if that plan was to hide. More or less effectually.

Something wet made a squelching sound as Amanda shifted her weight around.

She grabbed Jason's hand and pulled him to the side. To safety, or what might be it: a dark corner in the room where the lightning is not as good as elsewhere.
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writhe struggle it was pointless and there was nothing she could do

Rachael was grounded into ground, her shoulder her first taste of a shallow grave where her corpse would rot. Above her the nightmare specter of a mysterious man's destroyed, bloodied, grinning skull of a face. Thumbs against the delicate overripe exploding skin of her mortal shell impressed onto her the depths of her pathetic mortality. Rachael screamed but hands around her throat became the bindings of the ancient mummies, tight, dry, desiccated, sequestering away her life into wakeless eternity.

Rachael felt surrender in the faltering of her heartbeat. Surrender in the falling away of her broken hand from defense of her remaining vitality. She was already but a walking corpse.


Still, she cried breathlessly for air.

Is it over yet? This story is dragging on.

Wild writhing like the cornered animal she was. Her remaining hand desperately clawing, sculpting flesh and blood like the passerby millennium did canyons, out of Blaine's skin, out of her own. Her faltering hand finding a second wind.

Her lost gun rejoined the fight with a gamble of a swing and a pull of a trigger.
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TwoThirty(e)
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It was loud.

He was upset at someone distracting him. As Blaine heard empty clicks he looked to the side and felt caught by Tina. As if he was a hyena who got caught eating his prey.

That apparently gave Rachael enough distraction to grab her gun to shoot it.

Blaine stumbled backwards and ran at the blurry entrance while holding his shoulder where he could see the bone fracture.

It hurt.

((Blaine Eno continued in The Ballad of Lance and Blaine))
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Brackie
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Amanda took him into the shower, into one of the corners that would eventually slope down to the centre. It gave them a high ground, even if it was only by a few inches. Nothing useful. But tactics was where Jason's head was at now. It's where it needed to be at, all things considered. He wanted to leave these showers with his life, and as things stood right now he wanted to leave with Amanda's life as well.

And it was there they waited. They waited as the screaming continued. It sounded strained, it sounded like it was getting worse every second they waited there in the dark corner of the showers. Jason and Amanda were listening to one of their classmates die. In a few seconds, the sounds would stop, and they'd probably hear someone else start rummaging through her things, or at least they probably would if they were close enough to hear a bag unzip, which come to think of it they probably weren't.

Nothing could have prepared Jason for the gunshot though.

Almost instinctively, Jason's hand went to the gun in his waistband. It pushed aside the shoulder bag hanging lifelessly by, grazing the handle of a weapon with no ammo. But that didn't make it useless. It just meant that he needed to get the jump on someone and then bluff his way into something better. Like if they got the jump on whoever just shot whoever, and took that weapon.

They. Jason looked at his friend. He remembered how he was going to have to get off this island alone. That meant Amanda was going to die. That also meant he needed to stop pretending they could work together or team up, because he couldn't risk her taking him out. But that in itself meant he had to give up the state of relief he'd let himself be overcome by from the moment he saw that she was okay.

It was something he could think about later.

For now, Jason's hand rested on the empty gun, and his mind rested on the silence following the gunshot.
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Amanda suspected that, whatever happened, was bad. Of course, there was a gunshot, and it wasn't often that Amanda heard gunshots. But the one thing in the end, that made Amanda tense up, was how Jason reacted.

Just as tense.

Actually, there was something else. Something else to the tension of Jason. Amanda didn't know what to think about that. Figured it was the thing people had when they were trapped on murder island, but it really felt as if there was more to Jason. She didn't know. Not really. She'd had to think about that at a later point of time. Somewhere else, somewhen else.

Because as it stood as it was now, Amanda and Jason were somewhat trapped. They didn't know what was going on, except that it was dangerous. In a way, they were naked.

Amanda looked at Jason's hands.

"Sorry." she muttered almost absent-minded. "The only thing I got is a wooden dildo."
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Rika Furude
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Gunshot.

Tina assumed the fight was over. The winner had stumbled their way to their gun and shot their rival, ending their life. She hoped it was Blaine that killed someone, nobody would be blame her for killing the killing of someone else. Plus he had been brutalizing people so Tina wouldn't feel bad and she may earned herself some respect slash allies slash truce with that were hurt by him.

It was with surprise and shock when she saw Blaine run away, bleeding from his shoulder. It had been shot, probably not self-inflicted. This meant the girl had a gun and she knew how to use it and Tina could probably be her next target if Tina decided to fire at her.

Blaine and Tina locked eyes for a second, and Blaine sprinted off. He was gone and Tina had a gunslinging girl that was probably both injured and angry. Tina forced herself not to fire at Blaine. If she did, it would have probably only resulted in her detection and being the next victim of the girl's aim. She let Blaine get away to live another hour so she could find him another time and kill him for good.

Unless he bled out from his wounds, he did look quite hurt from the quick glance Tina was able to catch. He had it coming and she was happy someone else did it. He wasn't the only one with a grudge. The other girl would probably shoot her on sight if Tina were to pop up and run after Blaine.

She bit her tongue, feeling these precious seconds run away as Blaine did. It was the safe bet, letting Blaine go but it annoyed her. She wanted it over already. Get that kill and the cigarettes, hide somewhere until it was over. That's the only thing she wanted. Even then, she restrained herself.

Slow and steady won the race while fast and careless lost it. Was that the saying? Tina wasn't so sure but she knew what she meant. In other words, take your time Tina, take it slow and win.

No need to rush.

Tina made the safe decision to sneak away, following the wall of the building. She had her gun pointed on the corner, both hoping the girl would and wouldn't appear. When she reached the other side, she ran after him.
Edited by Rika Furude, Sep 21 2017, 12:05 AM.
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Rachael lay there, body stiff from pain. Quiet, only because the pain of her lungs heaving to full her sobs was too great. She owed herself some sort of long-form groveling apology for putting herself through this much so far. Maybe it would have been easier if she'd never fought back.

Anyone could find you like this, and kill you.

Rachael stay still. Slowly the pains ebbed away and uncovered what they had drowned out in tides of adrenaline. More pain. The return of the dull and insistent throb of everywhere behind her eyes. Her pains worked together in harmony. Rachael herself worked to keep the nothing in her stomach down and out of sight.

Eventually she dragged herself up. She was alone, and mutely grateful for that. Nothing else had changed in her surroundings.

... I don't have my supplies anymore.

Somehow that didn't bother her. Rachael cradled her head like it was her own first born, wrapping her forehead in a blanket of a disturbingly clammy forearm. She stumbled for the nearby building's entrance, lame arm swinging pathetically beside. Then she stopped before that yawning maw of an unknown creature buried by concrete into the earth. Foreboding, a sense of profoundly inexplicable concern about what lay beyond the threshold.

A sense far too normalized, it had been her companion from waking. She stepped through, but slowly, silently, eyes darting back and forth and seeing monsters in the outlines poking through the dark corners and hearing them in her footsteps echoing cracks of bone over concrete.
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"It's fine," Jason replied quietly.

It could have been better if she had a gun, he guessed. It'd make them safer, especially considering they had no idea what was going on outside.

But for a while, nothing followed the gunshot, except the echo of the gunshot. It was enough for Jason to finally remove his hand from the waistband gun and unlock his stance. His breathing was silent, but it had been ragged and quick. It was slowing back down now.

Until the footsteps. With them, Jason snaked his hand back towards the gun and retrieved it - it hung there heavy in the silence, despite its lack of ammo. Without even thinking, he moved his opposite hand down to the blade of his sword and held the hilt out to his friend.

"Take this. Stay behind me," he whispered.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

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It was dangerous to go alone. She took it.

That was the first time she had held a sword, Amanda noted. Not that it was anything like a cause to celebrate. She would not mark it red on a calendar - had she one available right now. In fact, it was more like she could see herself sitting somewhere years down the road, reading a book, when suddenly she looks up and notes 'oh, this is the anniversary of that time where I held my first sword. or maybe that was tomorrow' and then she'd turn to the book again and forget about it until years later.

Oh yeah, Survival of the Fittest.

Almost forgot that one fact.

Amanda put on her determined face, and stayed close to Jason.
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((Permission granted by Bikriki))

Her determined face counted down the moments.

Until they were gone, and her forcibly silent breathing came out antsy.

Instinctively she began to stalk forward, and she didn't quite know why she did that. Danger sense, that odd feeling drop in the stomach thing, stopped her before rounding the corner.

Amanda saw a hand peeking around the corner, clutching at the
stone that pressed in glass jagged edges into the flesh of her palm, her fingers trying to brace, as she staggered drunkenly in place. Rachael stared almost sullenly at the camera that shrugged noncommittally at her from across the room. She meditated upon pain through half shut eyes, pain within : the ceaseless churning of her stomach, the crunchy throb under her shoulder, the maddening numb between her temples. Pain without, the sickly sweet scent of freshly fetid water, the most distant of sounds rustling miles away that echoed into her ears as gunshots and the stories of another friend lost.

As if it even cares about friends anymore.

Rachael's camera-wards gaze carried a certain longing, smoldering and almost seductive with sheer desperation. Her mouth weakly lolled open and shut like the most naive of deep sea fish torn from their home and tossed onto harsh beach-lit suns, her dry lips already well past cracking.

She contemplated, for so long, what she wanted to say. Or, what she possibly could ever say again. The camera waited for her soliloquy.

That thing watched by the camera was certainly no longer familiar to her parent's embrace.

She lifted her gun and it weakly trembled, her arms now too ravaged by adrenaline to manage more than a pathetic angle away from her corpse of a body. More fingers to the wreckage, all hands on deck. She fumbled with the release for her gun's cartridge, her last and most mortal of possessions.

But she kept the cartridge in,
the last of her bullets prepared.

"..."

No last words. Not for a lack of trying. She would have cried if she'd had the energy left for tears.

She left without knowing why she'd come or where she was going.


It shambled on. Unknown footsteps receded until swallowed by the ambiance of distant death.

Amanda signaled the all clear to Jason.
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Jason probably should have remembered one thing he knew about Amanda.

No matter what you threw at her, she could take care of herself.

He was silent when she stepped forward with his sword, seemingly intent on confronting the echoes. She'd been off-kilter ever since they'd met, but this was a return to familiarity - he was trying to find it himself, but she was there too. She held his sword with purpose, with conviction, like she knew what she was doing and she could fend for herself. Amanda wasn't going to let anyone take her down.

Which is why he couldn't be with her any longer.

It was tactics, but it wasn't the obvious - clearly, if it came down to it, they would probably turn on each other at the eleventh hour, or at least that's what he knew he'd have to do. But if he wanted to survive, he couldn't think of her. He had to think of himself, think of what he'd be going through, think of how he was going to make it through the days. Apart from the name that would appear in his obituary, she and Kyran would be his last connecting nerves to P.J. Hobbs - nerves he was going to have to sever.

As she signaled the all-clear, he started breathing again. Shut his eyes, just for a moment.

"Too close, way too close," he muttered to nobody in particular. Jason stepped out into the hallway, looking around at the empty halls. Mimicking his actions of before, dropped his bag to the ground again, but did not follow in its stead. He leaned against the stone wall, wordlessly running his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something, just anything, to say to the friend he was going to have to abandon.

Jason looked to her. He wanted this to be easier, he wanted to get the strength to say it. He wanted to be able to tell her they'd have to split up, or at the very least for her to give him a reason. Instead-

"...fucking hell."

He was playing the same old hits.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

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Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

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Despite everything, everything else seemed to be normal. In a sense, of course. In an odd sense. There really wasn't anything normal about seeing two of your co-students beat the shit out of each other and whatever that was supposed to be. And honestly, there wasn't even anything normal about meeting your friend after he robbed someone while you were naked.

Yet, it was as it was. Nothing you could do.

Regardless, Amanda took the sword and placed it carefully against the wall, so that it wouldn't clatter on the ground.

Amanda smiled at Jason, but when they went to sleep later, it would be with an uneasy cloud on her mind.
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The cloud remained, long until morning. After a night of two teenagers curled up in a closed-off stall, a night where one of them seemed to fall asleep almost immediately, almost inhumanely fast, while the other could barely close their eyes. A night where every noise was cause for alarm, flaring his senses for minutes after the noise had long since passed.

At most, Jason probably got a combined half an hour of sleep until the announcements came on.

His eyes were trained on the door as the man on the bus, who was now the man on the loudspeaker, listed names.

Richard. William. Jeanette. Yasmin. Lyndi. Panya. Vincent. Aaron. None of them were Kyran, which was okay. None of them were Soren or Paris, either. They were all just people Jason once knew, once hated, once wanted to be like, and now they were memories. It was strange, because Jason knew he shouldn't care about it - he wasn't choked up about the deaths, but he still felt weird. He'd never really lost someone in his life before, and now they were probably going to drop by the dozen.

And he hadn't really thought about it as a reality until now. Just a theory.

Once he'd confirmed with a quick cursory glance that he was not in the Isolated Cabin, Jason breathed a long sigh, looking over to his companion. Amanda still hadn't woken up, having slept through the entire thing. Her head was against her bag, one side wedged in between the toilet pipe and the cement wall, the other sticking out and holding her head - her arms were around his chest, her leg draped over his. Jason looked at his friend for a few moments, moments which held in the air like an eternity.

Quickly and quietly, he moved her arms to her own body. He adjusted her leg. He pulled himself from the ground with his bag, feeling aches in places he wasn't used to while also making sure Amanda didn't tumble across the floor of the toilet stall. His hands grasped the wall to keep himself from collapsing from fatigue, as he looked at his friend.

Jason picked up the sword from the corner, tucked it into his bag with the hilt sticking out, double checked to make sure his gun was still lodged in his waistband, and in a few minutes he was gone from the showers, leaving his only friend in the world behind.

((Jason Andrews continues Falling Back To Earth))
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Alright, who the hell plugged in the Overlord?
[ *  *  *  * ]
Waking up alone, huh.

It wasn’t as though Amanda hadn’t half expected it. She didn’t want to die. Jason didn’t want to die. Their mutual interest in living automatically put them at odds, even if they didn’t acknowledge it out loud. Jason slipping away in the night was the best outcome, really.

It still hurt, no matter how much she tried to brush it off. With Jason gone, it was all the more difficult for Amanda to try and pretend that things were normal and okay. It kept occurring to her that she ought to start formulating some kind of long-term plan, and finding herself solo did nothing but reinforce that. Further proof came in the form of her total lack of desire to set foot outside in case she encountered some other fight or somebody else with a gun.

In the end, it was easier to pretend than to face reality.

Amanda had always been good at entertaining herself when the need arose. She amused herself for a couple hours by twirling her weapon like a baton, tossing it in a spin and seeing if she could catch it on the way down. She skated around the still-damp shower floor in her socks and mapped out games of chess in her head. She stumbled and bruised herself a bit thanks to the slippery floor and her wandering thoughts, but the interior of the shower building still felt far more secure than whatever lay beyond.

“Checkmate,” she mumbled to herself, spinning on the ball of one foot. She'd won yet another mental match against herself, her current winning streak a new record.

Every so often the face or name of someone she might have once played against at school surfaced, but she pushed them back down and didn’t wonder whether those former opponents were alive or dead. It was hard not to wonder about Jason especially, but she managed. She had always managed to not think too hard about the things that bothered her.

As evening fell, Amanda retreated to the cubicle she and Jason had previously slept in. She didn’t rest any more easily than she had the previous night, clutching her wooden club tight, but she did rest a bit and she rose early to take advantage of the quiet and to see if she could skate around some more even with the floor dry.

She could, it turned out, and she decided to go a step further and combine her makeshift baton-twirling with the movement. She had never been into drill teams or dance routines really, but she didn’t have anything better to do here, whatever some of her thoughts might have insisted to the contrary.

Amanda had just gotten to a pretty good part of her improvised skating/dancing/twirling routine, if she did say so herself, when a nearby speaker crackled to life again. The sudden noise made her jump in the middle of a turn, sending her off balance. Her socks slipped against the tile, and the next thing she knew she was pitching backwards to the floor.

The back of her head painfully impacted the tile and the fall drove the breath from her lungs, and she was so surprised that once she could breathe again she couldn’t do anything but laugh at how ridiculous she must look, sprawled on the floor of some moldy old shower room. She laughed so long and hard that it started to take on a hysterical edge, but she was able to calm herself before her laughter gave way to tears, and that was a victory of sorts. Didn’t do much for her head, but small victories.

Amanda checked the back of her head for blood as she sat up and was satisfied to find none, but the sudden tumble was enough to put her off the spinning and jumping around for a while. She returned to the cubicle she had claimed, looking to have some food and water and to take a couple painkillers. Maybe she could try to sleep a bit more. She had missed most of the announcement in the confusion after her spill, and slept through the previous one too, leaving gaps in her knowledge of who was still alive and who was dangerous. Jason could be one, both, or none of the above, and she might have missed it. That thought was sobering enough to drive any lingering giggles out of her.

It was as it was, Amanda repeated to herself. She couldn’t do anything about it. The throbbing of her head, the ringing in her ears, and the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach would stay no matter what she did. The best thing to do right now was to keep herself sane by blocking out as much of it as she could.

So that was what she did. She played more mental chess, played around with her weapon, and, above all else, she tried not to think about things outside her little world inside the cubicle. The painkillers didn’t seem to be doing much for her headache, so she took more. How many had she taken in the first place, again?

It didn’t matter. It was as it was. Her head hurting was just making it easier to not think at all, unpleasant as it felt to exert herself with a throbbing skull.

It was okay. It was okay. She would plan in the morning. Given enough time, she could come up with something that would put her a move ahead of anyone who wanted to cause her trouble. She was good at that, when she put her mind to it.

Amanda spent the rest of the day in solitude again, slowly but surely drifting into an easier, more comfortable sleep than she had been allowed the previous two nights. She took more painkillers just in case—didn’t want to wake up in the middle of things because her head was hurting—and she finally closed her eyes at some point in the afternoon. She wouldn’t open them again.

The darkness was comfortable.

G08 AMANDA WHITE: DECEASED
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