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Post by Augustus is a SWOObat on Jul 29, 2010 4:12:49 GMT -5
August followed Pierce without missing a beat. Okay, maybe she hadn't grown up, but neither had Pierce. She tried to listen to what Ant was talking about, but all she could here was Frank and something about a rabbit. August figured she had to be mistaken. Someone was standing behind the door, and that someone looked a little delusional. His mouth never stopped moving, always whispering something August couldn't here. He reminded her of a turtle that was receding into it's shell.. A crazy turtle that was desperately in need of some help and a hug. Blood was slowly pooling at the turtle's feet.. Maybe he's hiding a body.. ? Frost wasn't in the mood to speculate. She had gone through too many emotions in a little amount of time. Frost had been shocked one too many times. She just stood there, silent and staring. August was worried, but there was too much to think about.
August bit her lip, suppressing the urge to scream for Ant. She looked at the flame, and her arm tingled a little. Spies had never been her favorite game, she wasn't ever allowed to talk. All August could do was think, and when she didn't know the answer, which happened often, all she could do was repeat the question. Why would Ant burn himself? She repeated it over and over, but each time it made less sense. Her games would have never been this complicated. August would have known who Mr. Turtle was, and Ant wouldn't do something so irrational. She worried when Ant pulled his gun and shoved his way into the house. August didn't know who she was worried for, Anthony or Turtle. She decided on both, seeing as Ant could and possibly would hurt both. August looked at Pierce, wondering what to do next. She tried to say something, be helpful, but nothing came to mind. The words died on her lips without getting a chance to be heard. This wasn't a game. Ant wasn't sober. Turtle probably wasn't sane. Pierce would have another mood swing and ditch. And Frost was broken. August didn't care if this was a game or not. Whatever it was, she wanted it to stop.
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Post by Waddle on Jul 30, 2010 23:30:42 GMT -5
Evan watched uncertainly at Anthony burned himself. It sent a cold satisfaction through him to see Anthony hurt himself, but at the same time he wanted to run and get Anthony some ice for the burn. He ignored both feelings. "No..." he replied to the question. He hadn't expected the next words that came out of Anthony's mouth to have come out. Was Anthony trying to trick him into letting him back in? Leave it to him to come crawling back... "No, no one's been here." His grip had tightened on the door handle when Anthony burst into his apartment.
The force of the push sent Evan staggering back, and he cursed in pain as he put too much weight on his cut foot. That leg buckled and he fell on his hip. Without bothering to get up, he only watched Anthony with baleful eyes as he kicked the knife. He pulled himself up by the door a few seconds later and glanced outside. His eyes caught on a young couple watching intently. He growled to himself and slammed the door, then whirled on Anthony. "What makes you think you have the right to burst into someone's house unwelcome?!" he demanded. Normally, it might have sounded threatening, but with his voice as raspy from various factors as it was, it sounded quite pitiful. "There's no damned rabbit named Hank and only a complete nut-job would think so!"
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Post by Anty on Aug 15, 2010 0:20:24 GMT -5
Anthony jerked his head, looking back at Evan. He saw him pull himself from the ground pitifully. He wanted to run and help, but that's not what he was here for. He had to stop the misery, put the poor soul out of all its misery. Evan was the poor soul, and everyone knows that the only real way to put something out of its misery was to kill it, and that's what Anthony was going to do. Not to mention that Evan haunted Anthony, both in when he was awake and when he wasn't. The guilt Anthony felt for kissing Adrienne was overwhelming, and there was one way that he could stop it. Of course he could say he was sorry, but Evan wouldn't except, and it hadn't even crossed Anthony's mind that was figuratively swimming in the poison that he poured down his throat non-stop.
Anthony watched as Evan whirled on him and he jumped in surprise, his eyes the size of saucers. He spun his body around completely to face Evan, gaining his seemingly cool expression again. "Like I said, I'm here to help ease all your pain, and you would realize what I'm trying to do if you were sane yourself," he said, convincing even himself that what he planned on doing was the right thing. His eyes were again huge and round, but this time not from fear but excitement. This is what he wanted all along. His palms were sweaty and his gun slipped around in his hands as he aimed it. Right for the head. Quick and painless. Or that's what part of him wanted. Evan should suffer for all the quilt he gave Anthony. It wasn't his fault Adrienne had cheated on Evan! Anthony was weak in that way, and Evan of all people should know that. He called himself a best friend and yet he didn't know that? Screw stopping all the misery, that's not what Anthony was here for, but instead he was here to add onto his misery with real physical pain, the kind that really mattered.
He was Frank and he was here to kill Evan. Probably.
But if he was going to do it now was the time. On the count of ten. "One, two... Ten," he said as he pulled the trigger. But instead of blasting Evan's brains against the ceiling, the bullet hit the wall. "Dammit!" he sighed, as he readied himself again.
Pierce's eyes moved from the Anthony to August. What was Anthony planning on doing? Whatever it was, it wasn't good. A drunk with a gun and a lighter, what a good idea. Why had August given him the bullets?! This was one of the reasons that he was mad at her, he decided. August was an idiot for giving them to him, but Pierce was an even bigger one for letting her. He stared at Anthony as he shoved his way past the other man, trying to remember why he had wanted to find Anthony. He seemed to not have aged at all, still acting like the adolescent delinquent Pierce had known before.
There was a time where Pierce could neither hear nor see what was going on. So he gave up. When the going get tough, leave. That's not what the wise men said, but the one's who actually lived. No, he just made that up, but he thought it true enough. He looked back at August, who seemed to be just as confused. There was really no point just standing here. Unlike his brother, Pierce wasn't about to barge into a stranger's house, especially not this stranger. "There's really nothing we can do now," he sighed. Pierce turned around and began to walked the other way, brushing past August. He had thrown in the towel, gave up the fight. Whatever. But his legs felt like lead. He had barely got a hundred feet when he heard the gunshot.
His heart was in his throat. Was it the stranger who had gotten hit or Anthony? He feared the latter. Before he knew it he was in front of the door, pushing it open. It hit something with a smack! that made Pierce's stomach flip over and now he wished he hadn't done that. Anthony was standing in the middle of the living room, the gun in his hand. So it wasn't Anthony who had gotten shot, and that left that other guy. Pierce didn't see him, and now he was worried. Hesitantly he opened the door to see him slumped against the wall, sitting in a puddle of blood. He couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, and now his attention was brought back to Anthony. "Nice job brother!" Anthony laughed.
It was true, Anthony had wanted to do it himself, but this worked almost as well. He approached Pierce, his arms outstretched for a hug, the gun still in his hand.
"You're disgusting," Pierce whispered to the ever-approaching Anthony. Pierce didn't want this. Anthony didn't deserve to win. Pierce sucker punched Anthony, right on the bridge of the nose.
The punch came quickly, and a smile was still on Anthony's face as he fell to the ground in a twisted shape. The gun fell to the floor and his hands grabbed his face.
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Post by Waddle on Aug 15, 2010 2:35:53 GMT -5
Was this another dream? It had to be a dream. No, it wasn't. Anthony was going to kill him. The reality hit him like the bullet would. Time seemed to slow as Anthony counted. He realized that he had done nothing with his life. He realized that his best friend was now going to kill him. He realized everything that he had done right was wrong, and everything he had done wrong was horrible. Then the gun fired. Reflex took over as he quickly crouched down, thinking the bullet had hit him in the chest. He could feel it, and also the warm blood that poured down his front.
Something hard hit him in the face and knees, pinning him between it and the wall. As the pressure on him left, he slumped to the ground, knowing he was going to die. Anthony had just fled the scene and would never be found. He was going to die alone. Well, he reflected sarcastically, I never did want to die old. It may be best to go now. I'll never do anything with my damn life.
Then voices pierced his foggy brain and he looked around groggily, just in time to see a total stranger punch Anthony in the face. That made no sense... And neither did the urge to fight the stranger. Why was Evan being protective of Anthony? Anthony had just shot him. Putting a hand to his heart, he didn't feel any of the warm any sticky blood he was laying in. Looking down, he saw that there was no blood or any bullet hole on his shirt. Just bloodstains on the right side of his pants and shirt from the puddle he was laying in. Climbing slowly to his feet, he staggered closer to the two. "Wait..." he mumbled, panting hard. "Who... Who are you?" His pounding head threatened to send him to the ground every time his heart beat. Maybe having been shot through the heart wouldn't have been a bad thing, if it stopped his migraine. Anything to stop his migraine.
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Post by Augustus is a SWOObat on Aug 17, 2010 21:56:13 GMT -5
August didn't want to be here. After letting out a frustrated growl, she followed Pierce into the stranger's house. Ant on the floor, holding his face in pain. Pierce's fist clenched, upset and somewhat disgusted. The stranger standing there, unhurt but confused. This wasn't what August expected. In her head, Stranger was hurting on the floor; Ant standing over him; and Pierce was confused. August was use to not getting the whole picture ever since she moved in with Ant, so it didn't deter her. Unusually angry, she walked over to Ant's gun and picked it up. It was all this stupid things fault. That was a lie. It was hers and Ant's. She pulled open the window. August hadn't noticed how dim it was in stranger's apartment, but now she was painfully aware. Squinting, August struggled with the gun. Finally getting it open, she watched the ammunition fall to the floor. She didn't feel anything. August expected something, satisfaction, happiness, anything, but she didn't feel anything, and that made her mad.
Angrily, August sat down on the couch, and folded her arms across the chair. She avoided looking at Pierce. August didn't care if he was okay or not. That was a lie. She wanted so bad to look at him. For a few minutes, August remained silently scowling on the couch, but inside she was having a mental debate. The rude part of her was telling her she was right. Her manners, though, told her to get off the couch and stop acting like the house was hers. Her scowl disappeared and she stood up. Her arms hung loosely at her side. August didn't look upset, just lost. She felt like she didn't belong.. again. The feeling was becoming more and more familiar. Why was she even here? August knew the answer was Pierce, and she hated it. No, She was here for Ant. Pierce was nothing.
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