Brokenhearts
Rank 15 (On Angie's Level)
Beware, all ye who talk 2 me
Posts: 4,934
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Post by Brokenhearts on Apr 9, 2007 13:21:04 GMT -5
(*mutters* meanie...)
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Post by Ethan on Apr 9, 2007 13:21:39 GMT -5
(*mutters* stop spamming)
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Post by Ethan on Apr 10, 2007 22:12:09 GMT -5
here's the beggining of Chapter 2...please input on what I have...I'm stuck and am just gonna edit this bit before continuing this chapter... Chapter 2: Stranded Following Stevens out of the pavilion, and out to the middle of the dump, fancily dubbed “The Common Ground”. It wasn’t anything special. There were bleacher benches set up along the boarders of the large space, and a pitiful attempt at a fountain and garden in the middle. When the Alliance first claimed the dump, they had a few of the men- who were anything but construction workers or landscapers- build up this place where the people could go to socialize. Apparently Stevens thought that people were still in need of a social gathering spot after having their family member, loved ones, or friends either eaten or infected. It did the trick though. The day after the bleachers, which were solidly built, the fountain, which wasn’t anything more than a giant concrete bowl filled with rainwater, and the garden, which was decent, and pretty enough in the spring, were built, people instantly flocked their to chat or gossip. It was as if nothing ever happened. Ryan detested the spot, and, whenever with his friends, would stick with his pavilion, a favourite hangout of Ryan’s. Ryan began to think about his friends. He hadn’t known them before the incident, and, if anything good came out of this predicament, it was that he had made friends for life. There were four of them, including Ryan; Robin, Sam, David, and Jordan, and they each had a unique set of “quirks” and personality traits that made them good friends. Jordan was the comedian. He was always telling jokes, making witty comments, or clowning around. Jordan was always good to go to when you were upset, as he was rarely serious, and was always able to cheer someone up. Jordan was tall and a few pounds overweight, with a large nose, green eyes, and short, spiked up black hair. His skin was tanned, his legs were long, and his face constantly wore a smile, a smirk, or some form of grin. You could never stay mad at Jordan, much unlike David. David was an acquired taste as a friend. Alone, he was caring, friendly, and kind, but, around others, he was the opposite. The shorter, blonde haired 18 year old loved nothing more than to, jokingly, insult his friends, but never knew when to quit. He was rarely the brunt of the jokes, and constantly the antagonist. They all knew he was kidding, but the relentless comments tended to become irritating, and would lead to the odd fist fight, or storming off angrily. Sam was short, plump, and the bearer of a clumsy nature, and a whiny disposition. He was a genuinely sweet guy, using his words to solve problems, and a good sport when it came to the insults. This was lucky, because David held most of his antagonistic remarks for Sam, who took them gracefully, laughing them off, and dishing out a few of his own based on David’s lack of intellect. Sam was intelligent, wore glasses, and was the text book nerd. He had short, pudgy fingers, and messy red hair. His skin was pale, his eyes brown, and his nose large. Lastly, there was Robin. To the outside observer, Robin was cold, rude, sarcastic, and stubborn, but there was a second, rarely seen, side. Although she had a tendency for hyperbolic emotions, Robin was, on rare occasions, kind, caring, and gentle, albeit, a little slow and easily confused. She was overly attractive, gorgeous even. Short blonde hair with tapered ends sat atop a small head, with a freckled face, big blue eyes, and pouted lips. Robin was short, even for a girl, standing a good one foot lower than Ryan’s 6’1. She was busty, with defining curves, and a thin middle sitting atop a wider waist. Her naval was pierced, and usually held an iron stud. She would often, when tipsy- there was little liquor brought back from the food runs, but cooking wine was often raided, and Robin was a cheap drunk- claim that she had other, more private areas pierced, but, try as they might, her three male friends could never confirm her boasts.
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Brokenhearts
Rank 15 (On Angie's Level)
Beware, all ye who talk 2 me
Posts: 4,934
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Post by Brokenhearts on Apr 11, 2007 5:22:52 GMT -5
the descriptions seem a little bit like lists, or bios or something... have u tried putting them in when u introduce the actual character? i like them tho the characters seem quite believe and 2gtha they make an odd group of friends, which i recon wud make sense wen all thrown 2gtha like tht.
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Post by Ethan on Apr 11, 2007 5:29:06 GMT -5
true. thanks. that makes more sense to put them there.
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Post by Chris on Apr 29, 2007 9:26:04 GMT -5
I just want you to know that I have read this in its entirety, and I will refrain from making a review until you've completed it. Just wanted to encourage you by letting you know that someone was reading (and liking what they've read so far).
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Post by Ethan on Apr 29, 2007 9:31:35 GMT -5
thank you for that off the record compliment , but you may be waiting a while..this will, hopefully, be a fair sized novel, and will take me a while
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Brokenhearts
Rank 15 (On Angie's Level)
Beware, all ye who talk 2 me
Posts: 4,934
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Post by Brokenhearts on Apr 29, 2007 10:22:13 GMT -5
wen u postin more matey?
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Post by Ethan on Apr 29, 2007 10:24:16 GMT -5
when I write it, AJ ...when you postin more Alliance?
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Brokenhearts
Rank 15 (On Angie's Level)
Beware, all ye who talk 2 me
Posts: 4,934
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Post by Brokenhearts on Apr 29, 2007 10:25:33 GMT -5
wen i solve the problem of lucy... *muttrs darkly* i got evrythin else sortd...
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Post by Ethan on Apr 29, 2007 10:27:29 GMT -5
what problem, maybe I can help
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Brokenhearts
Rank 15 (On Angie's Level)
Beware, all ye who talk 2 me
Posts: 4,934
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Post by Brokenhearts on Apr 29, 2007 10:44:47 GMT -5
THANK YOOOOOU ;D
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Post by Ethan on Apr 29, 2007 10:50:34 GMT -5
oooook...
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Post by Ethan on May 13, 2007 12:48:33 GMT -5
I was rushing to get the basics down, so this is pretty bad,, I'll edit it after. I know, the first little part I already posted, but I'll repost it for this entire chapter.
Chapter 2: Stranded
Following Stevens out of the pavilion, and out to the middle of the dump, fancily dubbed “The Common Ground”. It wasn’t anything special. There were bleacher benches set up along the boarders of the large space, and a pitiful attempt at a fountain and garden in the middle.
When the Alliance first claimed the dump, they had a few of the men- who were anything but construction workers or landscapers- build up this place where the people could go to socialize. Apparently Stevens thought that people were still in need of a social gathering spot after having their family member, loved ones, or friends either eaten or infected. It did the trick though.
The day after the bleachers, which were solidly built, the fountain, which wasn’t anything more than a giant concrete bowl filled with rainwater, and the garden, which was decent, and pretty enough in the spring, were built, people instantly flocked their to chat or gossip. It was as if nothing ever happened. Ryan detested the spot, and, whenever with his friends, would stick with his pavilion, a favourite hangout of Ryan’s.
Ryan began to think about his friends. He hadn’t known them before the incident, and, if anything good came out of this predicament, it was that he had made friends for life. There were four of them, including Ryan; Robin, Sam, David, and Jordan, and they each had a unique set of “quirks” and personality traits that made them good friends.
Jordan was the comedian. He was always telling jokes, making witty comments, or clowning around. Jordan was always good to go to when you were upset, as he was rarely serious, and was always able to cheer someone up. Jordan was tall and a few pounds overweight, with a large nose, green eyes, and short, spiked up black hair. His skin was tanned- which came from his Chinese heritage- his legs were long, and his face constantly wore a smile, a smirk, or some form of grin. You could never stay mad at Jordan, much unlike David.
David was an acquired taste as a friend. Alone, he was caring, friendly, and kind, but, around others, he was the opposite. The shorter, blonde haired 18 year old loved nothing more than to, jokingly, insult his friends, but never knew when to quit. He was rarely the brunt of the jokes, and constantly the antagonist. They all knew he was kidding, but the relentless comments tended to become irritating, and would lead to the odd fist fight, or storming off angrily.
Sam was short, plump, and the bearer of a clumsy nature, and a whiny disposition. He was a genuinely sweet guy, using his words to solve problems, and a good sport when it came to the insults. This was lucky, because David held most of his antagonistic remarks for Sam, who took them gracefully, laughing them off, and dishing out a few of his own based on David’s lack of intellect. Sam was intelligent, wore glasses, and was the text book nerd. He had short, pudgy fingers, and messy red hair. His skin was pale, his eyes brown, and his nose large.
Lastly, there was Robin. To the outside observer, Robin was cold, rude, sarcastic, and stubborn, but there was a second, rarely seen, side. Although she had a tendency for hyperbolic emotions, Robin was, on rare occasions, kind, caring, and gentle, albeit, a little slow and easily confused. She was overly attractive, gorgeous even. Short blond hair with tapered ends sat atop a small head, with a freckled face, big blue eyes, and pouted lips. Robin was short, even for a girl, standing a good one foot lower than Ryan’s 6’1.
She was busty, with defining curves, and a thin middle sitting atop a wider waist. Her naval was pierced, and usually held an iron stud. She would often, when tipsy- there was little liquor brought back from the food runs, but cooking wine was often raided, and Robin was a cheap drunk- claim that she had other, more private areas pierced, but, try as they might, her three male friends could never confirm her boasts. Ryan snapped out of his thoughts as they approached a bustling crowd of people, gathered in the middle of the Common Ground. They were huddled around, what Ryan assumed to be the survivors. As Stevens, Ryan, and their guide approached, the crowd of people parted like the Red Sea. He felt overwhelmed when the crowd filled in again, once Stevens made it through, absorbing Ryan and the man who led them.
The curious, and hopeful, teen shoved, squeezed, and yelled his way to the front lines, where he saw the two survivors. His heart dropped. It was Tom, and Jose. Ryan was relieved to see them alive, Tom was a good friend to him, and David was a good man himself, but Ryan would have killed those two men himself if it meant his father came home alive.
Jose's stomach was gashed open, and blood was oozing out, and Ryan could have sworn he'd seen the tip of some entrails poking their way out of his soft fleshy belly. David was held up by Tom, who seemed to be unhurt, but was struggling under Jose's weight.
The look on Stevens' face was not of concern, horror, or even pity, it was a snobby disgust.
“Tom, are you two alright?” he said, mock sincerity lacing his words.
“I'll be fine,” Tom explained, “but Jose needs immediate medical attention, are the doctors available?”
“Yes, they are in the medical pavilion,” he turned to the crowd, and indicated to two large men, “You two, bring this man to the medical pavilion, right away.”
They sprung into action, quickly getting to Jose, and steadily carrying him away from the Common Ground, the crowd parted again, and flooded back once they had left. Stevens turned his attention back to Tom, “Tom, we need to talk. I want to hear all about the food run.”
“Yes, sir,” Tom straightened up, and followed Stevens away from the crowd.
Tom picked Ryan out of the crowd, and gave him a subtle motion that screamed, you need to hear this.
Ryan waited as the crowd dispersed, watching as Tom and John Stevens made their way to John's pavilion. The second there was enough space between citizens, Ryan took off towards the place Tom and John were discussing the food run.
He heard the muffled voices getting clearer and more audible.
“Now Tom, I need you to tell me everything that happened, everything.”
Why was he so persistent on knowing all that happened? Ryan thought. It wouldn't have been so odd if he wanted to know what happened, but wanting to know “everything” made Ryan slightly suspicious. Ryan couldn't see either of them, but he could hear their voices fairly well when he was directly in front of the tarp walls of the pavilion. He stood back in suspense, listening intently as the run was described in full detail.
They walked into the abandoned, broken, and dark building, thinking only of survival. Tom looked to his left, seeing Gary, his face determined, but worried. He glanced to his left, to see Jose and Alec looking nervous, and the second group heading off to go get their portion of the food. Scot lead the group, looking impartial, and tough, but Tom knew better. Scott was just as anxious as the rest of them. Scott had children, three of them. Two little girls, six, and eight, and an older son, thirteen. Tom knew there was no way he wasn't terrified like the rest of them. The dark isles of the building-which was a grocery store before it all happened- were only illuminated by the flashlights they came across on a run a few weeks back. The light given off by the dim, single flashlight they were permitted, barely covered four feet in front of them, and the darkness only seemed thicker when it was on. The store had no windows, and the only rays of light came from small holes in the ceiling. Scott stopped in the middle of one of the isles, looking over the food on display. He grabbed what they needed, stuffing it into a a burlap sack, and holding it over his shoulder. They moved on. Food runs needed to follow a certain procedure, and each member needed to do a certain function. There was the one who held the food, this was Scott. His survival was most important. Then there were the lookouts, there were two or more, on this run, it was Tom, and Jose. Next was the leader, Gary. The leader was responsible for the group getting back safely, and it was obviously the most stressful job. Lastly, there was the scape goat, or the goner, as Tom liked to call them. These were the new guys, the sacrificial lamb, the one in the group that would rarely come back from a run. Alec was the goner. Tom heard a noise, or thought he did, he spun around to see nothing there. Gary shone the light behind the group, just to be sure. Nothing. They walked on. Another noise. Nothing. Jar fell to the ground in another isle, shattering noisily. There wasn't another group in that isle, or there wasn't supposed to be. Gary signaled for them to stay away from that one, and they all agreed hastily.
From what Tom knew, and he had a lot of experience, there were three types of them. He had even nicknamed them. There were the Squatters; the deadly shadows. They hid in int darkness of caves, rooms, dead end halls, and the like. Light may have had an adverse effect on them, but Tom was never sure. He hadn't gotten close enough to even see what they truly looked like. They were easy enough to avoid, but stumbling near one would be fatal. Tom only knew of the long, sticky tongue, and/or the tentacles that would jolt out to grab their victim, and pull them into god only knew what. Tom was glad to not know, or think of, what they actually looked like, for the screams of his fellow runners as they faced the beasts were enough to make his skin crawl.
Next were Trappers, these were trickier to spot, and avoid. They reminded Tom of spiders, the assassins of the insect world. Experts in killing, stealth, and strength. He could not believe where they would find Trappers. They ranged in shaped and sizes, and were contortionists in many cases. Some were poisonous, but they also did not carry the infecting gene. Trappers were smart, and that's what made them deadly. They knew just how to set up the a trap. They hid beneath false tiles, behind draped walls, hung from ceilings, and the like. Trappers were the epitome of stealth.
Lastly, and the most common, were an infantry based unit Tom dubbed Infectors. This was for the obvious reason that the Infectors were the only one of the three types that Tom knew of that could pass on the virus. There were hundreds of Infectors, none looking quite the same as the next. Some had claws, some had tentacle, some had shells, some had appendages Tom did not know what to classify as. The Infectors were fast, deadly, strong, and of mediocre intelligence. They were the most common, and were the biggest threat to The Alliance. Infectors would, on rare occasion, make raids on the Alliance’s home front, capturing the young, and infecting them. They were a real nuisance, but were also the easiest to kill, seeing as they were loud, and easy to spot.
***
The last isle. This was it. The final stop, in more ways than one. Their breaths heavy; they're bodies sweating; their hearts pounding audibly in their chests. Gary's light shone and showed the first few feet of isle to be clear. A relieved sigh, but too soon.
Tortured screams echoed from beyond the rows of food, the second group was in trouble.
Scott jumped into a steady stance, determined to see his children again, Tom and Gary tried to remain calm, but their minds raced in fear. Jose looked terrified, and Alec was ready to faint.
“Everyone!” Gary called to the group, “Run! Stick with the group, alone we are dead.”
“What?!” Alec spluttered, looking dizzy, “Stay in a group?! We'll be a larger target! Are you stupid?!” he yelled, “This is survival of the fittest now,” he said, backing away from the group and into the isle deeper, “you're insane, the lot of you. I hope you all make it, I really do, but my chances are better if I go by myself.”
Gary saw it, the false tile, on the outskirts of the light, it was a slightly different size and colour than that rest. He said nothing, but indicated for the everyone to step back, including Alec.
“What are you doing?!” Alec demanded, seeing the signal to come back, “Why aren't you talking?!” his voice grew anxious, “W-what's wrong.” Silence. “I said what's wrong, Dammit!”
Gary did not speak, there was no use, the Trapper knew it's cover was blown, Alec could have gotten out. It was too late now.
“Answer me, for Christ's-”
The tile flipped backwards, revealing what could only be described as a pray mantis with arms and legs. Alec had no time to react, as he was pulled down by the waist. He didn't fit into the small tile, ans was laying with his back over it, screaming for help as it chopped at Alec's back with the claws on it's fingertips.
They watched, horrified, then, “Let's go!” Gary yelled, running past Alec, and into the isle.
They encountered nothing, and Gary knew it, Trappers hid alone, and killed anything that dared come within their territory.
Rounding a corner, they bolted through the frozen food section. Glass shattered, as a wolf like Trapper dove out from behind the glass doors on one of the freezers in front of them. Scott was in the lead, and wound up a kick, as the approached the beast. He made impact with the snout, and shuttered as he heard the cartilage crunch. He stopped, turned, and forced his foot down onto the beasts neck, breaking it.
Lucky that was a small one, Tom thought as Scott caught up with the group.
Now, out of the frozen foods, they were into a narrow space where miscellaneous kitchen utensils were sold. Gary choked down a gulp as he heard the foot steps of the Infectors behind them, catching up fast.
They were halfway down the isle, and into the knives section when they caught up. Cloaked by shadows, only the figures could be made out. Four or five at the most. Scott looked back, looked forward, and back again, stopping. He threw the bag of food to Gary.
“Go,” he said, grabbing a large steak knife off the rack.
Gary caught the bag, “No Scott, we can make it,” he stated stated as the group stopped, “now come on, we have to go.” “Go,” he said again, this time it was demanding, “tell my kids I love them, and make it back. I can hold them off as you leave. Gary looked into Scott's eyes, and then at the figures approaching. “I will, Scott,” he said simply, turning and running, as the group followed.
Out of the isle, a scream tore though the air, and Gary knew Scott was gone. But he had more important things to worry about. Three more Infectors guarded the door out. Gary looked to Tom, and threw him the food.
“No, Gary,” Tom said, “no.”
“I'll meet you back at the base,” Gary lied, smirking, and taking off.
“We'll be back for you,” Tom promised.
“No, you won't.”
Gary took off, yelling to attract the attention of the Infectors, and two of them immediately followed him off into the darkness, the third remained.
Tom looked to Jose, who nodded. They charged, and Tom hurled the heavy bag of food at the final mutant, who resembled a scaly man. It caught the creature off guard, and it faltered. Tom was out the door, and so was Jose.
***
“On the way back, we were attacked again, by a single Infector,” Tom explained, “and he injured Jose's stomach before i was able to kill it.”
“I see,” John said, looking emotionless.
“We have to go back,” Tom said suddenly, standing up.
“We can't.”
“I can”
“I can't let you.”
“Gary risked his life so we could bring back food!”
“Which you failed to do.”
“I think that our lives are more important than that food.”
“Apparently Gary didn't.”
Tom looked ready to kill, he shot Stevens a dirty look, and stormed out of the pavilion.
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Post by Ethan on May 14, 2007 22:21:47 GMT -5
Here's the first bit of Ch 3 for anyone who is still reading this crap. umm...I moved the character descriptions into here, so tell me if it's any better (this last comment was more for AJ who gave me the god advice to do that...I think it works better, thanks Cutie ) anywho... Enjoy Chapter 3: Friends “What do you mean my dad is still alive?!” Ryan burst through the tarp in Tom's pavilion. Tom was sitting at a desk in the far corner of the tent, looking through a pile of papers feverishly. He jumped a little, then, after looking around to see Ryan, dropped his gaze, “We left him, I shouldn't have left him. There were three of us, and three of them. We could have had a chance.” Ryan wanted to tell Tom that he should have told his father he wasn't going to leave him, but stopped himself. “It wasn't your fault, my dad's stubborn, there's no way he'd have risked the lives of two of his friends like that. You know that.” “I still feel terrible,” Tom sighed, “I wish there was something I could do.” Ryan saw his chance, “I'm going after him,” he said bluntly and abruptly. “Who?” Tom asked, knowing exactly who he meant. Tom knew Ryan was listening when he described the run, he was glad Ryan was there listening, it gave Gary some chance, it gave them all some chance. “You know who, Tom.” Tom moved on, “How will you do it.” Ryan paused, dumbfounded. Why hadn't he thought of that? Tom held up the piece of paper he'd been looking for. It was worn, smudged, crumpled, dogeared, and torn in some parts. “Here,” he said, walking over and placing it in Ryan's hands. “What is it?” he said, glancing uninterestedly at the small letters that formed words he did not bother to read. “It's all I know about them.” “About who?” “Them” Ryan looked at the paper, it was full of writing, and was divided into three sections: Squatters, Trapper, and Infectors. He read it quickly as Tom waited. “T-thanks.” Was all Ryan could muster. “Alone you'll be dead for sure.” Tom blurted, once Ryan was finished reading and he stuffed the page into his pocket, “Who will go with you?” Ryan smirked slightly, “Friends.” *** “Robin,” Ryan called into the small tent. There was no door to knock on, and he knew better than to barge in. Silence. “Robin!” he called louder. “Go away,” an angry feminine voice came from within. “If you don't come out, I'm coming in.” “I'm not dressed, come back later.” There was a silence, then a loud sigh, “I'm coming.” To the outside observer, Robin was cold, rude, sarcastic, and stubborn, but there was a second, rarely seen, side. Although she had a tendency for hyperbolic emotions, Robin was, on rare occasions, kind, caring, and gentle, albeit, a little slow and easily confused. She was overly attractive, gorgeous even. Short blond hair with tapered ends sat atop a small head, with a freckled face, big blue eyes, and pouted lips. Robin was short, even for a girl, standing a good one foot lower than Ryan’s 6’1. She was busty, with defining curves, and a thin middle sitting atop a wider waist. Her naval was pierced, and usually held an iron stud. She would often, when tipsy- there was little liquor brought back from the food runs, but cooking wine was often raided, and Robin was a cheap drunk- claim that she had other, more private areas pierced, but, try as they might, her three male friends could never confirm her boasts. Ryan waited patiently as Robin must have been getting dressed. She emerged from the tent, a towel draped loosely around her stunning body, barely covering her top, and falling just short of her thighs. Ryan's jaw dropped, but he caught it in time to save face. “Thought you were gonna get dressed first,” he said meekly, trying not to look at her, but failing miserably. “I was going to,” she said coldly, “then realized it was you, and it wasn't worth it.” “Well,” Ryan said, taking a deliberate look at her body, “I thank you.” The smallest curves of a smile played at the tips of her scowl. “What do you want.” “Emergency meeting at my place.” She looked around, not seeing anyone else. “I don't see the rest of them,” she smirked suspiciously, “This wouldn't be an elaborate ploy to get me into your tent, would it?” “Robin,” he teased, “If I wanted you, you wouldn't be wearing that towel anymore.” She let out a small giggle, but muffled it with her hand, and adopted her regular tone, “So, where is everyone?” “I went to get them first, they are all waiting back at my place for me to get you.” “Aw,” Robin teased, “I felt special being the first one.” “Well, I came here alone to get you when we all could have came, that makes you kind of special.” “You're just saying that.” “I know,” Ryan grinned, flashing his canines. She punched him, hard. Ryan touched his arm gingerly, “Ouch, I thought we were friends,” he let out a fake sniffle. “Oh shut up,” Robin snapped. “Can I come in?” He gestured into her place. “Well, I have to get dressed.” “I repeat.” “And it's a one roomed tent, so I wouldn't have any privacy.” “Should I beg?” Ryan mocked. “Huh?” she said, looking slightly confused, then she scowled, “Oh, shut up, and wait out here,” she said, storming back into her tent to get changed.” It took three attempts for Robin to get the right outfit, but Ryan wasn't about to object to see her try on a variety of clothes. Her first outfit was a pair of tight black hip hugger jeans, and a tight black t-shirt, but she didn't like it, and went back to find something else. The second attempt was more to Ryan's liking, but impractical, as she appeared in a dangerously short and tight skirt, and a low cut tank top. He hated telling her to go change, but wasn't too disappointed when she came out next. Beige, baggy legged, but tight waisted, cargo shorts, that still left some to the imagination, and a form fitting army camouflage, and her mother's silver locket. They set off once she was finally ready, “What are you waiting for?” She asked, seeing him lag behind. “Nothing, just watching you walk,” he teased. “Stalker,” she said coldly, but she was smiling, even though Ryan couldn't see. “You know you love it,” he caught up to her, and made small talk, loving every second of it. *** “Took you guys long enough,” came David's harsh tone as they entered Ryan's pavilion. David was an acquired taste as a friend. Alone, he was caring, friendly, and kind, but, around others, he was the opposite. The shorter, blonde haired 18 year old loved nothing more than to, jokingly, insult his friends, but never knew when to quit. He was rarely the brunt of the jokes, and constantly the antagonist. They all knew he was kidding, but the relentless comments tended to become irritating, and would lead to the odd fist fight, or storming off angrily. “Screw off, Dave,” Robin snapped. Jordan laughed, and spoke with his cheerful voice, “Oh, they were making out, leave them be. Ryan needs the action anyways. And Robin...she's always more than happy to oblige,” he stuck his tongue out at her, she smiled. Jordan was the comedian. He was always telling jokes, making witty comments, or clowning around. Jordan was always good to go to when you were upset, as he was rarely serious, and was always able to cheer someone up. Jordan was tall and a few pounds overweight, with a large nose, green eyes, and short, spiked up black hair. His skin was tanned- which came from his Chinese heritage- his legs were long, and his face constantly wore a smile, a smirk, or some form of grin. You could never stay mad at Jordan, much unlike David. “And when was the last time you were with a girl, eh, Jordan?” Ryan teased “Not too long ago. Me and Tina were going at it a few weeks ago.” David laughed, “So, you finally named your hand. I'm proud.” Jordan shot David a dirty look, but laughed all the same. “You've been pretty quiet, Sam.” Robin smiled at him. Sam was short, plump, and the bearer of a clumsy nature, and a whiny disposition. He was a genuinely sweet guy, using his words to solve problems, and a good sport when it came to the insults. This was lucky, because David held most of his antagonistic remarks for Sam, who took them gracefully, laughing them off, and dishing out a few of his own based on David’s lack of intellect. Sam was intelligent, wore glasses, and was the text book nerd. He had short, pudgy fingers, and messy red hair. His skin was pale, his eyes brown, and his nose large. “Well, we've been talking about sex. What else would you expect from Sam? For him to have some input?” he scoffed. “Aw, shut up,” Robin said, walking over to Sam, punching Dave on the way. She hugged him, and Sam turned red. “And now you've gone and exhausted him.” David said, seeing Sam's rosy cheeks. Sam ignored David, “So, why did you want us here?” he said, pushing up his glasses as Robin let him go.
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