Vex's Writing Thingy
- Locked due to inactivity on Mar 24, '21 3:54am
Thread Topic: Vex's Writing Thingy
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TW: Blood + mentions of fighting
Death's Door sulked under an old fluorescent light. It had stopped working properly long before, but it still lit up sometimes. His ragged clothing had ripped down the front, and blood dripped from his nose, where a guard had roughed him up last night after curfew. He liked to call that specific guard Sadist—not to his face, of course, but because his real name started with an S and, well, he was a sadist.
Death remembered things that had happened long before his imprisonment. He had shaken his head at the rumors that there was an asylum close to his neighborhood—until he saw it with his own eyes. -
Pauline had always liked her code name. It gave others the false premonition that she wasn’t dangerous. And she wasn’t. But she specialized in medicine and herbs, and before her, her team lacked a medic.
Medics, although usually not trained in hand-to-hand combat, were very special in the field of battle. Pauline was used to seeing blood and war. None of that fazed her anymore. Once you've seen enough bloodshed, it's just the norm, she thought to herself as she sat down on the cold floor. -
"Death. You have been summoned," Sharpsight said curtly, pointing to a fit male figure. Blake.
And so we meet again, Death thought. He expressed no emotion, but upon seeing his old friend he grew excited.
Blake had been his partner in crime years ago, when they both were young and naive.
Blake had been caught when he was only twelve, Death when he was much older. Yet Death didn’t know how long Blake had been here. Maybe he had been caught when he was twelve, put here when he was fourteen.
The others knew Blake as Hustle, but Death knew Blake as Blake. "Greetings, old friend." Death greeted Blake. "It's been so long," he said softly. -
Blake's expression grew grim. "Come." He made a gesture with his hand, beckoning Death to follow him. "We have much to talk about."
Pauline fretted over the black cat that lived in the asylum. She gently stroked its fur, putting it at ease. After it got used to her, she gingerly picked it up. "Have you eaten anything," she asked as it nibbled her fingers. She didn’t mind sharing some food with the feline. The others had always been hard on her. They said she was "too soft," but then she let them think about where they would be without a medic. -
Reposting character list so I don’t literally forget the characters: Death's Door/Despont, Trypl/Sculpt, Devil's Ivy/Saint, Pauline/Basalt, Tair/Turyn, Hustle/Blake and Sharpsight
I still need to do
Trypl/Sculpt, Devil's Ivy/Saint, Tair/Turyn, and Sharpsight's views about all this
I really wish I could upload images to show what these peeps look like but no
It's time to Trypl The Trouble :)
I'm sorry, that was a horrible pun
Trypl was always up to something. He was just born that way. He had ADHD, so Trypl seemed like he was always moving something—his hands, his head, his ears. So when he had been knocked out and put here, he hadn’t exactly noticed that he was in the rumored insane asylum until a guard told him so. (Yes, the asylum had guards.)
You'd expect someone with a name like Trypl to be trouble, and that's exactly what he was, and he knew it. In fact, he liked himself just as he was. -
Devil's ivy crept up the walls of the asylum. It was what Devil was named for. He had been creeping around the asylum for years, memorizing every nook and cranny for what appeared to be no reason at all, yet there was a much deeper purpose behind all of the creeping.
He was going to map this asylum and all the escape routes. It didn't seem likely that he could do this, but obviously to do this focus was mandatory. And he could focus plenty, because there was nothing going on most of the time and he had no other projects like this.
Devil knew full well that others had tried and a lot had died before they got to map the asylum. But he was willing to sacrifice his life as long as the map got out to the other asylum prisoners. Prisoners, that was what they were. -
Tair was good at taking things for the team. Literally—he moved desks and chairs and couches around for the team. He really didn’t have an assigned job, but all seven of them wanted the same thing: freedom.
This asylum was driving them insane—they had already been insane in the first place, but it didn’t help was the point. -
Sharpsight took a seat. With her eyes closed, she said, "We have to fight back."
"Fight?" Devil repeated. "We can't fight. Unless there are some weapons laying around on the floor."
"I'd suggest you take a look at the floor for yourself," Sharpsight advised. Of course, Devil didn't care to glance at the floor for a second, so Trypl pointed out, "Hey! There really are weapons on the floor!"
Devil snorted. "Don't try to trick me."
"Imbeciles," Death muttered. "Fighting won't do a thing." -
Hustle tried to counsel Death. "It's not too bad of an idea," Hustle commented. "It isn't, but they'll all be injured horribly," Death predicted. "How do you know?" Hustle asked defensively. "You know full well they can defend themselves." Death murmured, "I do know. I'm not worried about that, I’m worried about the impact of their actions on the public." Hustle realized Death was right. He hadn't factored that in. He’d only been thinking about the damage they could do.
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Death's Door sensed this. "I'll still join them in their assault. It'd be disrespectful of me not to." Hustle glared at him. "You're doing this... just because it’d be disrespectful not to?" "That is not what I am implying," Death said sharply.
Devil's Ivy picked up a sharp broadsword. "This is good," he said with a malicious grin. He tested the blade, drawing a drop of blood from his own finger. "Be careful with that," Sharpsight warned. "Yes," Devil mused. "I'll be careful not to kill any of you accidentally with it." "Don't get too cocky. That weapon is fully capable of doing that," Sharpsight said. -
"What are you waiting for, Trypl?" Death asked. He had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Trypl jumped up a foot in the air. "Jeez! Chill out, will you?" "I am chilling out. You must be alert," Death chided him. Trypl muttered something about Death to himself but picked up an old spear.
The sky was beautiful at this hour, like ashes and flame. It was a tribute to the destruction they were about to cause. "But isn't public impact good?" Hustle asked. "Not necessarily," Death answered grimly. "Not necessarily?" Hustle repeated. "We don't want to show our faces to the public. We'll be on Wanted posters every corner," Death warned. "Masks?" It was just a thought of Hustle's, but it added so much more to the plan. -
Living up to his name, Hustle got the masks ready just in time. The sky was still reddish orange.
"It's not time yet," Sharpsight whispered softly atop a tower. "What do you mean?" Blake was agitated and stressed. If anything went wrong, they were absolutely screwed.
"We're just in time," Pauline observed. "No. I agree with Sharpsight. It's not time. It's over. We're done." "What do you mean?" Blake said again. "We haven’t even started yet..."
"I mean," Death replied, "That." Helicopters were dropping bombs everywhere they looked. "Quick. Hide!" Tair shouted. "Looks like a terrorist attack saved us from nearly dying," Death commented calmly. "Well, now we've got another problem," Devil said, raising his eyebrows. "The helicopters."
"They might have saved us from one of our problems, but they've just created another. And anyway, the plan would have worked out just fine. Sharpsight, this is all your fault. You orchestrated all this just to say at the last minute that this was all a failed operation!"
"I wasn't the one who came up with the plan to attack everything near the asylum," Sharpsight said calmly. "You were."
FLASHBACK
Sharpsight had just handed them all their weapons. "So, what do we do with all this neat stuff?" Pauline asked, scrunching her face up at a dull dagger. "Attack, of course," Devil said with a snide smile. -
"Come. No more debating over whose fault it is," Death said as a bomb destroyed a big chunk of a building. "We must retreat back to the asylum. I believe that it has blastproof walls." "Are they strong enough," all the other six people wanted to know. Death responded with a "maybe" and ran. The others followed him with no question.
-
"One for all and all for nothing!" Pauline and Tair shouted, high-fiving each other. Then they turned and ran. They had formed a decent friendship.
Death led them back to the asylum and they hustled in. A guard had come to check on their section of the asylum; they were just in time. Of course, while a terrorist attack was going on somewhere else, people needed to check on the Prisoners to make sure they weren't behind it. -
Not bad👍
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