forum Those that survive hell don't do so kindly. || probably oxo || mature || closed

Started January 03, 2021 by @croccin-champagne

tune

The floor was made of solid concrete. Perfect for injuries. A simple trip could have a person disadvantaged for a week if it was bad enough. Not to mention the way a skull would break on it, a simple cut on the outside, dripping blood heavily, then a crack in the bone; an injury that could take months to recover from, exposing the innards of a head to the harsh realities of bacterial warfare. Then, of course, the bruising to the brain, caused by blunt trauma.
Silas kept that in mind as he walked quickly through the shelves; not dodging from one to the other, but always moving quickly, his feet always ready to dance lightly away when trouble seemed close.
He was now entering Rat Clan territory. For many people this would have been a dangerous move, though sometimes one would stray into it anyways. Rat Clan had a habit of packing and setting new camps, rarely bothering about who had been sleeping there before. Nevertheless, Rat always slunk away from him the moment he dared them to try anything. A week before he had gotten the name Ethan Hollister. Leader of Crocodile Clan. Ethan had found out beforehand. Silas found it interesting how information got around. He was smarter than some of the others. He had made a pretense of buying him off over drinks. He only had beer, which Silas hated—Rat at that time had been camping in the wine section. But Silas dutifully came, substituting the drink for his own, knowing his would be poisoned, no matter how untampered it looked. The conversation had been short, but both left satisfied. Silas even more so. Their final handshake had been a little warm and slippery, but Silas knew he would never have to see Ethan again. Ethan died that night, his blood pressure dropping like a stone. Silas wondered if he had turned blue as his breathing became labored and heart murmured quieter and quieter. It was a pity he hadn’t been there to see it.
Silas picked up a bottle of wine to go. He didn’t drink. But others did. He slipped it away a few aisles from the Rat border. He would collect it later. No one knew when they could be the next target and so the smart ones assumed it would be any. And murder was always easier at night. None of them were certain bout what time it was, except for a boy called Ed, who claimed to be able to tell the time within 180 seconds. Silas knew he said it that way to sound more impressive. The idiots wouldn’t know.
Ed aside, all the residents had a general agreement about when night was. The more fortunate spent that time sleeping. Others hid or sought.
Screaming shot through the air about six aisles to his left, and a little forwards. Silas frowned. He had wanted to go that direction.
With the speed of a snake, an arm wrapped around his neck.
“Don’t move, Squinty,” a dark voice muttered. He clearly meant business. Silas sized up the situation, realized he was overpowered, and yanked away hard, flexing his neck and lifting his feet from the ground to force his enemy’s face closer to the ground. Hopefully forcing him off balance. His adversary took this as an opportunity to slam Silas down, using his rib cage to ram him in the back, sending a sharp shock through his knees. His enemy was now crouched over him. Silas had no position to use his now throbbing knees. The pressure on his back increased, though not enough to break his arm’s position that was keeping his head away from the concrete.
“Nice try,” the young man said. “But you’re still dead.”
Silas responded as eloquently as he was able, sending his spine into the other man’s stomach, straining his leg muscles to send his vertebrae crashing into him with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The force holding him down lessened, and Silas rolled out from under him, sweeping the arm aside, and rising to stand in one motion. The man was gasping, his mouth gaping comically like a koi fish. Silas’s foot flashed out and the man fell to the floor, his cheek split under the ear. He was knocked out instantly, but Silas took the one second to appreciate how his head flew upwards before making a nauseating cluck on the concrete floor. He searched the body quickly and efficiently, finding a lovely foot long knife with a glossy wood handle. With a deft slash, Silas sliced down the man’s spine, for half a second exposing bits of bone among the shredded cloth before the cut flooded with blood. Silas decided to keep the knife. He walked away, unconcerned, the dripping knife like a torch in his hand as he walked the halls of products. He had some business to attend do before he could sleep. And he needed to get some pain pills for his knees.

Evelyn looked up. She was standing in the very center of the store, with boxes and shelves stacked up all around her. A man much taller and larger than her charged at her from the shadows. She narrowed her eyes and ran a sword through his side with perfect precision. He fell to the floor on his back and looked up at Evelyn as he died. "Well . . . done," he whispered, as the light left his eyes. The concrete floor transformed into an antique rug. Evelyn looked up and saw an intricately carved table with tea and scones set at it. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table and her grandmother sat at his left. Her grandfather read the newspaper. "Well done," her grandmother said. "Now sit dear." Evelyn sat across from her and sipped tea from the cup in front of her.

"I don't like doing this," Evelyn mumbled into her teacup.

"Speak up dear. Mumbling is unseemly. I taught you better."

"I don't like doing this," Evelyn practically shouted.

Evelyn's grandmother smiled and stood, leaning over the table until her face was right in Evelyn's. "But you're so good at it darling."

Her mind went blank.

She sighed and turned over in her sleep. There were screams, there were almost always screams, echoing throughout the store. But Evelyn slept through them. She had slept through worse before she ever showed up in this hell hole. Plus, the bottles in her bag helped quite a bit.

After managing to grab a swiss army knife and a bag on that first day, Evelyn had booked it, trying to find the liquor section. She had grabbed a three-pack of 64 oz plastic water bottles on her way and started filling them up with all the vodka she could find, before putting them in her bag. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she knew that she wouldn't get through it sober. She found a couple of other bottles of liquor that were made out of plastic and took those too, before booking in the opposite direction, careful to avoid meeting anyone. It might make her life a lot harder if people knew about her stash, and Evelyn wanted to avoid unnecessary fights.

The bright, fluorescent lights clicked on, waking her. Evelyn groaned and sat up. She had no way of knowing, but it really felt like the lights always come on at an ungodly hour. She could have sworn they were extra bright, too. Knowing Chris, he probably found a way to do that. "I'd like to kill him for a change," Evelyn muttered to herself. She took her swiss army knife out of her bag and used to pen to mark her arm. She had taken to doing that every "morning". It was hard enough keeping track of the days when she was living her normal life, without adding a lack of sunlight to the mix.

As Evelyn climbed out of her hiding place, she heard yelling, and her eyes immediately lit up. It was close, too. She snuck around some shelves and found a crowd. One man was yelling at another, and more people started to yell. She came up behind a girl in a yellow bandana who was also watching the commotion. Evelyn grinned at her. "Finally, some entertainment, right?"

Tango spared the girl next to her a glance, before her attention focused back on the commotion. She hummed in what might have been agreement, before actually speaking. "Finally implies this whole situation isn't already too exciting, all the time." And it was. If excitement didn't refer to anything good, that was.

The taller man, who appeared to be the most calm, held up a hand in warning as Marvin moved closer to him.

"I don't want to have to hurt you, Marvin. Don't start something you can't finish."

"Don't tell tell me what to do! Why the hell would I listen to a child murderer. I should kill you right here, for what you've done."

"She was sixteen–" Tango's lips parted so she could inhale, teeth closed and making the sound a bit louder than it would have been. "–and I didn't want to kill her. But you know how this works." The tall man said. His tone was weary, that of a man tired from the weight of what was happening around him. No one could really blame him. Not in this situation. "I got her name. She knew what that meant, even if she fought it."

Marvin let out a strangled sob and lunged, the attack easily stopped by the larger man. Both of them ceased moving when Tango's voice carried to them, heads turning in her direction as she crossed her arms.

"Beating the shit out of him might feel good, if you can manage it, but it won't bring her back. If it could, everyone here'd be starting fights left and right, man."

You can’t push the memories back.

Not these memories, anyway.

With a skip in his step, Jukka looked particularly happy for someone to be in such a grim setting. Maybe it was just the walk style - one couldn’t see his expression, after all. Maybe he was unhinged, or perhaps just trying to make the best of his situation. But those who knew Jukka for a period of time would often lean towards him being unhinged.
Through his short trip in the store, he’d acquired a bottle of perhaps his all time favourite drink, maple syrup. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t a drink in the traditional sense - it was definitely something that would get you noticed if you pulled out some maple syrup and started drinking it. And it wasn’t his first favourite drink either - unfortunately, maple syrup only ranked second place on his personal list.
Within minutes after he’d resumed walking, Jukka had heard the noise of an argument.

Arguments seemed to be a somewhat common thing. They didn’t often escalate into fights, from what Jukka had witnessed, but then again, this store was big. There was no way he was going to see everything that happened, know every word that was spoken. There were plenty of things that stayed away in secluded areas, some things perhaps better off over there then out where many could see.
Jukka stopped and listened, looking for the direction of the voices. Somewhere to the left of them, he figured - Jukka liked to believe, despite his history, he had good hearing. And that he did, surprisingly.
Spinning around on his heels, Jukka strolled over, his eyes, though primarily focused on the area ahead of him, glancing around, taking everything into consideration. Any people, any escape routes, anything nearby. He didn’t often interact with others, and he didn’t plan to this time either, though he decided he’d see how this situation unfolded. Jukka made his appearance, stopping just at the edge of the situation. It seemed he wasn’t the only other ‘outside party’ here.
Two women stood out to him, who stood across from him, but closer to him were two men, who seemed to be the ones in conflict. It wasn’t much of a conflict, Jukka mused to himself, twisting open the bottle and tilting his head to the side. He managed to obscure his facial features to any onlookers, sipping from the bottle - executing the same precise and fluid motions, he moved his mask back up again, all while hiding his lower facial features.
Jukka pressed the lid back on and continued to observe.

Silas had woken up just before the lights went on. He quickly considered what this might mean. Either the lights actually did correspond to night and day… or it was merely coincidence. He would have to wait a few more days—if that’s what these intervals were—to see. The knife he had taken before he had gone to sleep lay by his side, on the shelf with him. He had decided that a lower shelf—ten feet up by his reckoning—would be good enough for the night. He had cleaned the knife before he had gone to sleep, not willing to carry the possible diseases of a person he did not know, even if the thought of carrying a bloody knife appealed to his aesthetic preferences. He had cleaned it off on a pair of woman’s underwear he had snagged to be used as cleaning rags if necessary. Anything that might work as a deterrent to an idiot worked for him. And so now the knife shone like a mirror next to him, with the added precaution of a scrub with hand sanitizer, something he always tried to keep a bottle of around. Silas wouldn’t have been surprised if a simple thing like cleanliness killed some of the people off in time. Humans did not disappoint him anymore. He just added their possibilities to his calculations.
He packed all his things that would’ve been a nuisance to carry into a bright pink Barbie backpack. It amused him slightly to have the certainty that even in the direst of circumstances, people would hold to the meaningless social conventions they had been taught to follow from birth. Silas was different. And he knew no one would even be seen touching his backpack as long as it didn’t look to full of what might have been useful tools to survive. Satisfied, he put on the backpack and scooted off his perch, turning slowly to avoid falling. He came down slowly, like a spider, his feet just brushing the shelves to keep himself steady, before resting his weight on his feet fully. The dull ache in his knees did not surprise him, he was too certain of how he would feel after sleep for that, but it still annoyed him. No matter. The one who did this to him was suffering far worse. That was enough. Though Silas did not believe in morality, he understood justice well enough. Well his enemy had certainly paid the eye, and deserved no more thought.
He walked off a little gingerly, though to an outsider it looked more like the slinking of a cat. He knew the girl at the frozen food section was an alcoholic, new to it he guessed. He had a craving for a pot pie that he was sure she could supply. He left his pink backpack where the toy aisle connected to the clothing racks, and switched to a more muted one, not wanting to draw rude attention to himself.
Silas made his way across the store, taking the longer way in order to avoid the smell of rotting fruit that now permeated about half of the food section. Someone should have figured out a way to deal with that, but Silas would probably have to come up with it himself. He couldn’t be the only person disgusted by it. So it was that he saw from a distance a group of people. Silas wondered if it was a brawl. It wouldn’t have been the first. There was even talk of starting a fight a night sort of thing. They were going to call it Fight Club. Typical. Perhaps it wasn’t their fault for their lack of creativity, what with the thousand videos available to watch on the promise that no killers entered. An amendment was made later that any Name would be shoved out so that the rest could enjoy the movie. Predictably the ones running the thing were called the Theater Kids. A girl named Chelsea normally chose the movie for the night. He had stayed away, not wanting to be outed when hunted. But now, he supposed, he could see if Chelsea had any taste.
He looked around the group coming next to a rather thin girl with tattoos and another in a yellow bandanna and some kind of sports bra.
He had heard Sports Bra say something as he came up, so he turned to her as he asked “What’s going on?” careful to keep his voice cool and unconcerned.
Both she and Tattoo turned around, showing him that Tattoo had acquired a black eye. Interesting.

Tango wasn't sure how to feel about the way the man speaking to her eyed her up and down. There was nothing even close to perverted in the look, but she almost might have preferred that. She knew how to deal with that. But this look? She knew it, almost. It was a look she was just familiar enough with to hate. The sizing up of a potential threat.

"My guess? Tall man over there–" She jerked a thumb behind her, shaking herself out of the suspicion for a moment to speak. "–killed a friend of Marvin's. He's the one who's yelling a lot." Marvin, still wide-eyed and held at arm's length by the man he had tried to assault, looked simultaneously guilty and distraught. "Sixteen year old girl. Which, I'd like to remind you, really isn't his fault." Directing her sentence at Marvin, she arched a perfectly shaped brow. "That's the game, right? It's not his fault he got her name, or was put in here in the first place, or that she was in here. We all know who's actual fault it is."

There were a few scattered and hesitant agreements from the small crowd.

"Commotion didn't wake you, did it?" She asked the man, once again returning her focus to him. Her hands had taken to the pockets of her shorts, pale scars standing out against her skin. Some of them were only healing, wounds from a miss-step during a kill. Others were old, those were the ones that stood pale compared to the pink and red of healing wounds.

He paused before answering, taking a second to survey her body, though not even a flicker of lust could be seen in his gaze.
Her hair was too long. As a woman, and possibly an intelligent one, he would’ve thought she might have cut it. Her face was nothing, though he filed it in case of future need. Her ear… was that a piercing gone wrong? Maybe an earring torn out? Only an idiot would keep an earring in here, but lack of intellect was as abundant as dirt. One shoulder had serious scarring, though he wasn’t sure what it was from, maybe a tear from something being caught on it. Her arms were nothing great, but he was glad to see a little muscle on them, though he was sure he could overpower her physically. Her breasts were of no interest to him but her stomach… What had happened there? It was easy to see that she would not answer any questions. A quick look into her eyes spoke volumes. She was used to defending herself, and though disconcerted by him—which satisfied him. It was predictable, but he still enjoyed the fear he could make appear in others just by not bothering with his charismatic facade—she was obviously scared, but he didn’t see the terror that so many tried to hide. And failed. At least from Silas’s probing gaze.
His first guess would have been knife wounds. He had his own after all and knew the look well. It spoke better of her though that she carried such scars and didn’t seem shaken. Most abuse survivors would have instantly broken under this place. Or turned vicious. She seemed too sane, but that did not mean Silas ruled the possibility out.
Her legs were well enough; though also full of scars (Who was this girl? What had she been through?) but muscled enough that he wondered if she could run better than him, though his height would give him some advantage—and he still needed to find some meds for his knees.
“No,” he answered, staring unabashedly back at her. “I was out to find Emily from the frozen food. I wanted something. I saw the crowd and decided to come.”

Evelyn sighed and folded her arms like Evelyn sighed and folded her arms like a child that had been waiting in line at the amusement park for an hour. "Well it doesn't look like it's gonna be much of a fight," she grumbled. "So someone else died. Probably gonna happen to all of us soon anyway." Someone on the outskirts of the fight turned and looked at Evelyn. Their face was bewildered as if to say "what the fuck is wrong with you?" Evelyn pressed her lips into a line and turned back to watch the fight. She didn't need her mouth giving her another black eye.

She touched her eye and winced softly. That hadn't been fun, to say the least. None of the people who had chosen to camp out in the bakery section had taken to any of her jokes. Especially that girl and that guy who were actual bakers. She never knew bakers were so touchy. She had decided against groups after that. She would still talk to people, sure, but no more groups. And she had been doing just fine on her own so far.

Speaking of people. . . . Evelyn took a moment to survey the people close to her. The girl seemed nice enough. Well, whatever nice means in here. She was ballsy, though. And ruthless. That's all Evelyn really knew about her.

Then there was the other guy. Evelyn didn't like the way he had scanned her when he first came over. She'd had plenty of men scan her throughout her life and it never ended up going well. He didn't seem particularly interesting to talk to, either. Usually, the men that looked at her like that were at least charming, but this person didn't pay too much attention to her. Evelyn decided she could deal with that.

Silas’s lips twitched at Tattoo’s comment. Not a soft speaker was she? He smirked, blatantly staring her up and down, purposefully making her uncomfortable.
The tattoos told enough of her story. And her thinness. That was also worth seeing. Pain. Abused probably. It would make her more ruthless than some. Or it would make her easier to break. Silas was tempted to try, just for the fun. But no. It would not do to spoil a possible ally.
“Pretty tough are you?” His posture was relaxed, but the knife that casually appeared in his hand backed him up. “Where’d you get that black eye?”

Tango couldn't help the snort that left her at the girl's comment. She may have been right. It wasn't very hopeful of her, of them, but in a situation with no foreseeable out…she couldn't fault anyone for jokes like that. Shaking her head, she glanced between the boy and the girl with interest. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about the male.

"There's like, three ways she could've gotten it." She said, linking her fingers and stretching her arms above her head. Luckily, things around them had devolved more into heated conversation again. Better than violence, as long as they stood in the middle of it. Injuries mean you're slow. And with the way Mr. Psycho is giving you names, you need to be as fit as possible.

Jukka could continue observing from his own, quiet spot. He could, and he could leave once this was over, and proceed on, just like any other day. But that wasn’t what Jukka was. At least, not the current Jukka. His attention turned to some of the people on the outskirts; a small group of people that seemed to be engaging in conversation together. Not necessarily a complete, actual conversation, but he could see the movement of their mouths from his current spot, and he just had to get closer.
Or at least, he tried. Jukka didn’t get a few steps away from his position before a hand got him on the shoulder.

Jukka was tall - it wasn’t often he found someone to be taller than himself in this store, at least with the smallish population. And the fact he hadn’t met very many people face to face. This person - the other man behind him was slightly taller, keeping a firm grip on Jukka’s shoulder. He - Jukka could easily gotten free if he wanted to, but he decided not to, instead, waiting to see who this man was.
“Killed one of my friends.” The man said, his voice rough in his ears. It wasn’t a high pitched voice by any means, but it wasn’t extremely low.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Jukka’s voice came out softly, a whisper. Loud enough for the man to have clearly heard, quiet enough that not everyone and their mother heard him. Even if it was an ‘apology’, it wasn’t a real one; the man caught onto it right away. Jukka could practically hear the scowl in his voice.

“You don’t get away with that sort of thing. Not in my world.”

“But this isn’t your world.” Jukka quickly pointed out. That was true. A better reply, in Jukka’s opinion, would probably be ‘not by my book’ but what did he know?

“Don’t try to play smart with me you-“ Although the man’s voice had raised to a louder volume, his words were cut short by Jukka interrupting. Jukka tilted his neck back slightly, enough so his eyes could meet the dark ones of the man.
“There’s already a major quarrel going on here, and I’d hate to interrupt them. I’d also hate to become the centre of attention since I’ve stayed so quiet here for the past few days.” He paused. “You’d do best to not make a scene. Especially with me.” Unlike the man’s, Jukka had kept his voice low and quiet.

Tango, who had always been good at surveying her surroundings while focusing on things, glanced up as someone else approached. When the person was stopped by another, she assumed they knew each other. Her focus went back to her 'acquaintances' before things started getting loud again. "You're kidding me." She muttered, watching as the man who'd approached the kid sneaking around started almost yelling.

It wasn't her issue. Hell, none of these had been. She had never had to care about things that weren't her own problems. Why would she? Add another issue to her own stack? She didn't even know exactly what was going on. Maybe it was the body language that drew her attention. Who knew.

And yet, she found herself striding over to the two that hadn't been noticed by the larger group, a grin on her face. The expression seemed off, too sharp and didn't reach her eyes, but it was directed at the larger man.

"Hey buddy! We were just lookin' for you. You just missed another almost fight, my man." She said, throwing an arm over the small person's shoulders and giving them a squeeze. "Who's your friend?"

Evelyn look at the girl and laughed a little. "Actually, with the trouble I get into, there's at least fifteen." She turned back to the guy to her left as the girl walked off. "At the beginning of all this, I was hanging out with the blokes in the bakery section. Apparently, some of them actually were bakers and they didn't take too kindly to my "baked" jokes. Mostly the ones I made when I was drunk. They had a surprisingly good stash over there. So I got punched and left pretty quickly after that." She grinned and raised her eyebrows, laughing at herself. "Still think I'm tough, then?"

She looked over at where the girl had gone and her eyebrows narrowed. Her eyes darted around, assessing the situation. The tall man looked menacing and ready for a fight. The shorter man, though short wasn't exactly a word Evelyn would normally call him, looked calm, but the girl still had her arm around him and was smiling wide. It didn't look like a great situation. Without stopping to think if the girl would need help or not (and in retrospect, she would not. She was more than capable of handling herself and others.) Evelyn walked over, copying the girl's expression. "Hey man, there you are! We were looking for you." She turned to the girl. "Weren't we looking for him?"

Jukka had barely moved from his spot, only slightly tensing when he’d felt arms wrap around his shoulder. But instead of immediately acting, Jukka waited to see what the deal was. Turns out, it was a good thing he did.
Were they looking for me? The question had appeared for a moment, in his mind. But he’d put together the whole idea quite quickly, taking a brief moment to inwardly congratulate himself for solving the rather easy question. Jukka, though confident in his abilities, would rarely deny help if it came to him in situations like this. Strength in numbers.

“Hm, just a person I’ve got business with later. He came to confirm the time we’d be meeting at.” Jukka’s voice came out casual this time, the type of voice one would use in a more relaxed situation. He looked around a bit, making eye contact with the taller man.
The taller man, who seemingly got the memo, and backed away from the group.
“Not exactly a friend, just another acquaintance, y’know?” Jukka added.

Almost-fights seemed to happen a lot in this store. Like right now. Two almost fights within a short amount of time. Both for different people, but for the same - or at least similar reasons. “Thanks for looking for me. Hate that I missed another of of those…almost fights,” Jukka said, slowly returning his focus onto the tall man, who while had seemingly retreated, but still kept his eyes on the group.

Turning her attention more to the boy under her arm as she answered the girl, she made sure not to lose sight of the one who had been causing problems. "We were. Your acquaintance seems nice. C'mon though, we–" She nodded her head to the girl. "Can catch you up to speed on what you missed. I almost regret diffusing the fight. Might've been fun to watch."

She was gentle in guiding the boy. Her arm held steady though, almost like she was trying to remind him to keep up the façade until they were in the clear. "Tall guy over there," Her free arm lifted to point. "Killed the short and angry one's friend. He's upset 'cause she was a kid. Sixteen's kinda harsh, but I mean…for all we know, tall guy has five kids at home he's tryin' to get back to. 'Sides, what else was he gonna do, right?" She explained, guiding him back to where they'd left the other guy. All they had to do was pretend to be friends long enough. Tango happened to be a decent actor.

Jukka walked along. He nodded, showing his understanding of the information that was being said to him, but mainly, to keep up the act. So there’d been another fight. Well, almost fight.

“Uh-huh.” Jukka nodded. “Cruel, but we don’t know everyone’s situation here. Sad to see someone die that young, but in the end, we’re all just looking for a way out. Doesn’t mean the guy can’t be angry or upset, but surely he knows it won’t help anything by putting his energy into a useless fight.” He spoke, not quite voicing his true thoughts on the situation, or all of them. Sixteen and died young - killed by another person. That hit a bit close to home, Jukka could almost think.
The man who’d originally approached Jukka had held his stare for a few more seconds, but seemingly retreated after the two had gotten a distance away, and perhaps their acting skills held up well.

“Everyone dies,” Silas broke in. “If we happen to hasten that arrival, it is an unfortunate thing, but hardly worth the energy to be furious. Not in this place anyways.”
He turned to Tango. “If I got your name, there would be nothing that could stop me. I’m sure you would do the same.” He looked around at the others as he spoke, even the new boy with the lanky build and—he noticed with an inward roll of the eyes—too long hair. Would these people never learn?