|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 14, 2013 3:04:41 GMT -5
[style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: Well… A lot has been happening. JENY: After dodging that first meteor, more came. JENY: The bible freaks must be excited about this.
==>
You just look around. This has to be the apocalypse. This scene felt more like a scene from a movie more than real life. Then a thought pops in your mind.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: Do you know if this is because of that game? JENY: I’ve been informed urgently of it. Like something bad was going to happen. JENY: Is this it?
==>
You look at your bro with curious concern. If that look was even possible, you did it, facial experience was your forte after all.
[/font]
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 14, 2013 13:39:51 GMT -5
==> Wong: Answer.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: The - the game? WONG: What does any of THIS have to do with the game?? WONG: Sis, it's-
[/font][/blockquote] You shake your head, at a loss for words.
No, not at a loss. You know them, you simply do not want to say them. Saying them will make them real, somehow.
Like a prophecy.
But the words are there, nonetheless.
The end has come. ==> Wong: Take a deep breath. Done.
Yeah, that was an ominous though, but it fits the scenery.
You are still, just a bit, creeped out by your sister's calm and weird non sequiturs. [/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: We should stop. WONG: See if anyone needs help- Your phone beeps.
Someone's contacting you.
For a second you realize you should be calling the police, or someone, and you can't help flipping it out and looking at the screen-
[/justify][/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: black;]future aspiringConductor [FAC] began pestering current aspiringConductor [CAC] at --:--
FAC: nc'th fthgan altcha tar FAC: loroling patoral tem'ulgath veilator da FAC: torlinapast valin't lola ilfathang lo........ FAC: .... FAC: Q'RSISL FAC: .... FAC: Q'RISIL FAC: ... FAC: til gatha paloda?! FAC: fthpasta! FAC: ughptuift
future aspiringConductor [FAC] ceased pestering current aspiringConductor [CAC] at --:--
Well. That was weird. ==> Wong: Call the Army!
Like you know their number.
First rule: do not panic.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Um. We should. On devrait. WONG: Call somebody?
[/font][/blockquote] You are totally failing the first rule. [/font]
|
|
|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 14, 2013 14:14:44 GMT -5
==>
He scared, great both of you are shook up by this. You can do almost anything in the world, or so you think, but to think you would be in this kind of situation of survival never really occurred to you. You take a hard gulp, both of you believe it to be the end; just a very ugly end.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: We can’t stop for anyone else. JENY: I don’t know what we would do, but we need to keep this group down.
==> Sis: Lighten up
You can’t do that, not now. You’re the pillar of the group, and this group has to keep small or else resources that are needed will diminish quickly. You are concerned for others out there but not everyone out there can be helped. As much as you try to think of yourself has some kind of superhero, there’s only so much you can do and you understand that.
[/font] ==>
You proceed to lightly pat your brother’s head, the car keeps going on. Sometimes you wonder if you ever make the correct choice and if you did if it was more for you or for Wong. You look forward once more but slowing down.
[/font]
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 14, 2013 17:48:14 GMT -5
==> Wong: Plead.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Should we not at least check? WONG: Sis, please.
[/font][/blockquote] Your voice breaks.
Embarrassing. But you soldier on. Those are people out there, and you know your sis cares.
Or does she?
Your eyes widen fractionally.
In all this hubbub you've almost forgotten about the events that lead you to getting your patella fractured by an iron pellet and the substantial revelations about her lifestyle that followed. She's not the person you-
No.
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
You are not going to be suspicious, or fearful, or anything tediously melodramatic and teenage, you don't have time. She is your sis, she could have offed the pope and you would feel exactly the same way about her.
Well, maybe not exactly the same, but, look, point being, to quote a Disney movie: family means nobody gets left behind.
You're going to have to trust her. ==> Wong: Deliver your ultimatum. [/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Sis, pull over. WONG: I am going to help.
|
|
|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 14, 2013 18:35:59 GMT -5
==>
You look back over at him; your brows come together in concern. You’re your head whips to look out the window, a deep sigh left your lips. It’s always this strong justice you fall for from him. You would never put him in danger and this is what it is, right?
You slow the car down. Maybe doing this will make him feel better.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: You’re still hurt.
==>
You don’t look over at him. Your heart flutters in conflicting emotion unsure of what to really do.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: But if it’ll make you feel any better. JENY: We’ll check on anyone. JENY: If anything bad happens, you get back into the car as quickly as you can. JENY: Any physical labor is left to me.
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 16, 2013 2:56:11 GMT -5
==> Wong: Dance victoriously.
Not with a busted leg you ain't.
So you smile instead. You're usually smiling, but this one reaches from ear-to-ear and is as big as the smoke-blinded sun. You fire off a short, smart salute. [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Roger!
[/font][/blockquote] ==> Wong: Hobble out of the car. [/font]
Not the most graceful exit, your gymnastics and dancing days have taken a hit - well, even more of a hit than when you injured your arm - but you don't mind.
You look as balls of fire streak down, it is like an awful, deadly rain.
But someone else has gotta be around. You spot your first vehicle: it had a disagreement with a meteor. The meteor won. You approach cautiously, just in case.
[/justify][/blockquote] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey! Is there anyone there? Wait, this is stupid.
All you need to do is walk closer.
[/justify] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey?? WONG: Anyone alive in there??
|
|
|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 16, 2013 13:41:39 GMT -5
==>
Your hands clench onto the steering wheel for a moment, you don’t even know who was more naïve of the two of you were. But you let go, feeling the blood rush back into your hands, which by now had turned white. You open up the door and feel the swooshing of warmth enter; getting out you stretch and look up to the sky, greys and reds hunt the area around the highway.
[/font] ==> Sis: Look more closely at the scene
It’s not a pretty sight, you might have seen more gruesome stuff then this, but your stomach still clenches. These were, possibly, innocent people who didn’t deserve this. You quite wander around the area, keeping your ears and eyes open for anyone who could still be alive, but with this. You advert your eyes, a broken rule there master would’ve been upset. You then quickly stride up to your bro and look around once more.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: I haven’t seen anyone.
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 16, 2013 17:33:37 GMT -5
==> Wong: Despair.
What, you? Despair? Does this look like a Japanese cartoon?
Pffft. If there is one thing that you are great at it is thinking, and even if you are not always a ball of hope (actually, you are usually a sphere of sorry) you can still sift through the deluge of thoughts inundating your brain and look for that glimmer of luck within the doom.
Not that there's much here, anymore.
There's a splatter of blood on the windshield.
You bite down, to keep from screaming. [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: We'll find someone!
[/font][/blockquote]
==> Wong: Approach the fiery wreck. [/font]
You are heedless of the flames. You think you can see someone in there, maybe, there is a lot of red on the windshield.
Really a lot of red.
Desperately you tap on the cracked window.
[/justify][/blockquote] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey!!! Is there anyone there? Wait, this is stupid.
Or, well, stupider than the last stupid.
You should probably walk away.
[/justify] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey?? WONG: Please!! Anyone alive in there?? ANYONE???
|
|
|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 21, 2013 1:05:01 GMT -5
==>
This was just torment, death plagued this road. This wasn’t something Wong needed to see any further, him and hope; you understood, really you do, but this was one of the times you had to give up your own rule. Slowly you walk through the carnage, a glance to the left and a glance to the right. Of course, coming up to the scene, you don’t react. A hand comes up to Wong’s shoulder and tightens there for a moment.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: Come on. JENY: No one is here.
==> Sis: Guide him.
You loop your arm around his, and rub your other hand on his arm. Forcing him slightly to turn back to the car. The only thing both you of can do is just to move away from all of this.
[/font]
|
|
|
Post by captaincat on Jan 24, 2013 2:03:55 GMT -5
==> Alto: Wake up.
A piercing sting as light hits your eyes. You examine the beaten leather of the front passenger seat head rest, just inches from your face. Fat clings to the melted surface of the seat beside you as it seems you were the only one to be spared in the wreckage. You gnaw on a resilient bittersweet taste in your mouth. The taste of living while everyone around you is dead.
Tastes strangely like blood. You spit out the hot red onto the back of the already gore-marred seat in front of you. You feel incredibly sick. You're light headed too. You must have swallowed a fierce amount of blood.
==> Alto: Upchuck. You aren't spared the upheaval. You gloriously vomit up a churning fountain of blood and stomach acid. A small chunk of flesh slides in between your gaping lips every now and then, just as you feel the lurching retches subside, you see the tip of your tongue.
You continue.
==> Alto: Survey the scene. Although you'd rather not, you cannot sacrifice the habit of knowing for some frilly desire to stay your clean nose from looking on the dead. You're sitting in the back of a totaled '87 Lincoln Continental, having been recently hit by what sure looks like a meteor. Albeit, a small meteor, but a fucking asteroid just came feet from totaling you so you think it's okay that it's small.
To your left is truly a work of modern art. Scraps of a grey silk suit cling to the bubbling fat that clings to the upholstery that clings to the burnt skeleton of one of the men who tried to kidnap you just hours before. You almost think that it served him right, but you catch yourself.
Your eyes widen and you look down at your bound wrists. The ironic nylon strap that hugs your chest burns a bit as it comes into view but you ignore it. Your wrists are chaffed and bloody from the duct tape bindings.
You can narrowly see the driver from where you're sitting in the rear passenger seat. The ceiling has caved in a good deal but you can just barely make out the pile of gore that was once his head. You try and hold back the rising urge to vomit again.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 9 24; background: #121212; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: 00587A; text align: left;]ALTO: My God... ALTO: This is--
==> Alto: Get out of the car. Damn straight you get out of the car! You've had enough burnt flesh for one lifetime. You push on the door a few times with no luck. Another blow and a click. Hope. You turn over and lay your back on the seat where a stranger once sat and kick that fucking door off its damn hinges. A heroic feat indeed, were the hinges not almost completely irrelevant at this point.
You throw yourself out and breathe in the fresh, non rotting, air. You suddenly see, by comparison, that you are covered in blood. You blink away a few drips as two figures fall out of focus in the ever-shortening reaches of your vision.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 9 24; background: #121212; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: 00587A; text align: left;]ALTO: He-- help...
==> Alto: Faint. You do so without much trouble.
[/font][/font][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 24, 2013 16:09:59 GMT -5
==> Wong: Hope.
No one got time for that, kid's bleeding and a mess!
You don't have to exchange a word with your Sis, she's already on the move and you are going to follow at a brisk trot. Or a hobbled trot, point is, you're on the mend and the move.
For a moment you consider the possibility that this is just an elaborate form of suicide and maybe you should be turning ass-backwards towards Sis' '87 Lincoln Continental.
Because, see, the first car you approached is a burning wreck and if Hollywood is to be believed about to explode, consigning its (quite visibly deceased) occupants to a fiery Viking grave. And now you are hobbling away from it to the second fiery vehicle which is buried bumper deep into a crater or the backside of another car.
All you know is that if things start exploding the entire street is going to go up like a row of volatile, iridescent dominoes.
Then you set your jaw and continue walking.
Even if the world ends, you are damn well going out like a human being.
Kid sways and falls down, collapsing into a boneless heap. Can't have that. [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey! Kid! Wake up!
[/font][/blockquote]
==> Wong: Approach the fiery wreck. [/font]
This one's less fiery and more bubbly and point is, your sis is already there, she's a lot faster than you are right now.
You ask the standard, useless question - regretting them almost as soon as they leave your lips.
[/justify][/blockquote] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Hey, do you think he'll be alright?
|
|
|
Post by JENY CHENLEI on Jan 25, 2013 21:43:50 GMT -5
==> SIS: Similar?
You turn to look back hearing a very unbeautiful noise. You’re eyes widen up to see a boy come out of car. Swiftly you move away from your brother and stop to look at the vehicle. Irony was that both your car and this car were the same; yours of course had a little work to it or as much as it could be tuned up. Guessing gangsters were involved here, joys of having an outreached hand in this community. You jump down to the boy; the wounds on him were gruesome, burnt marks across his chest, possibly from the safety belt and around his wrists, from the bindings that held him back. Question was why he was kidnapped.
That wasn’t your forte, so there goes a question unanswered until he woke up.
[/font] ==>
A better thing to think about is: is he going to wake up? You swoop your head close to his head to hear if he breathed. Your eyes dart to his chest, it slowly went up and down in a calming way. He was still alive has you felt his soft breathing in your ear.
You sit up straight and look up to Wong.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: He’s fine. JENY: He’s just fine.
==> Sis: Get the boy and leave.
Looking at how he was, it was going to have to be a careful process. You could hurt him more. Looking from the unconscious boy to Wong, you feel very bad that he, too, was still in pain. Lightly and carefully you pick the boy up.
[/font] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #FFF8C6; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 11px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: maroon; text-align: left;] JENY: Come on, let’s get back to the car. JENY: We need to get him medical help.
==>
You slowly stand up, cradling the boy in your arms. Your eyes widen up slowly but there was a steadiness to you. If help wasn’t found soon, well that’s one thing you don’t wish to think about.
[/font]
|
|
|
Post by captaincat on Jan 25, 2013 23:21:34 GMT -5
==> Alto: Wake up.
Not something easily done. Sure, this has been pretty damn insane for a kid your age, but it isn't enough. Not yet. You let your eyes stay shut as whispers dance about you.
==> You feel a sharp pain as you're lifted up. You aren't sure what's going on but you know you're going up. At least your sense of spatial orientation is still kickin'.
For whatever reason a sense of maternal devotion kicks in. You feel as though whoever this is that is picking you up and holding you is at least something of a mother to you.
==> Alto: Act on Instinct
Although this isn't exactly a practice you're too keen on, you do so. Without much thought, you wrap your arms around the person holding you and nestle your head against them.
[/font][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by LOLA SAVILL on Jan 27, 2013 1:04:38 GMT -5
==> LOLA: BE THE PUSHY BITCH [/blockquote] This situation is just growing more chaotic by the second. Too bad you really don't know what's going on. All you know is you're going to insert yourself into the equation and try to play hero. You hope it goes more smooth than your entry.
[style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #171717; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 12px; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: 5CE62E; text-align: left;]KN: Oh Wong.~ KN: I know you're on the road but you're going to have to put your little National Lampoons vacation shit on hold for me to save you from the apocalypse. KN: Now pull over. KN: ... KN: Wong, god dammit. KN: LOOK AT YOUR SMARTASS PHONE.
|
|
|
Post by WONG CHENLEI on Jan 28, 2013 1:55:29 GMT -5
==> Wong: Answer. Woah, no need for all this narrative prompting, you are capable of some basic social interaction with other people.
Especially your Sis.
[/font][/justify][/blockquote] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]WONG: Yeah, let's go back to- PHONE: BEEP WONG: Lincoln. I'm glad we found somebody. And with that sort-of backhanded reminder you realize that if you had been smarter about this, you would have just let your sister do the rescuing but no you had to drag your useless glutes into this vehicular funeral pyre.
There is absolutely no way this is going to bite you in the butt.
==> Wong: Answer.
You stare down at your phone.
Oh, Lola?
Oh, is this what you meant? Well, not you-you, the other you in your head giving you orders. Probably like, your superego or shoulder-angel, devil, whatever. You're not exactly versed on psychology.
Still, aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself, buddy? How's a linear pondering, unrealized heir of doom supposed to understand the narrative prompt if you're not timing it at the right moment?
Still, despite your injury and the location, you flip your phone open and manage a text as you struggle back towards the car. This requires a multi-tasking effort of Olympic fortitude.
Which explains the terseness of your words, not like you have much of a choice.
[/font][/justify][/blockquote] [style=width: 450px; padding: 10 25; background: #545454; border: 1px dashed black; font-size: 13px; font-family: courier new; color: gold;]AC: Busy. AC: Meteors. AC: Be right back.
|
|