Bloodsport:MarissaPExpanding

From Create Your Own Story

"As helpful as that gun would be, we're better off with more people on our side." You tell Devin, looking to Emily and Randy for their opinions. They nod, and you all leave the room, somewhat armed and kind of dangerous. Once you're all outside, however, you realize that you don't know where to go. Before you have to call yet another group discussion, though, a voice rings out in an adjacent room.

"Hey! There's some people outside!" it shouts, and a face you don't recognize stares out from the window. Randy tightens his grip on his weapon, prompting you and Devin to the same. Emily puts a hand in her pocket, preparing whatever she has in it. Apparently, whoever is watching you realizes what they've done and speaks again. "Oh! Don't worry!"

As they open the door, a tall, long haired redheaded girl steps out, holding her hands up in a peaceful gesture. "We don't plan on killing you, don't worry. We're not psychos. Come on in, we were just talking about what we should do."

Randy remains tense for a moment, but loosens up and nods, leading the four of you inside the room. The redhead closes the door behind you, and another girl, this one a blonde with shorter hair and glasses, pokes her head out from under the desk before ducking back down underneath.

"Hey, hey.... it's cool. They're cool." The redhead laughs as she walks over the the desk and takes the hand of the blonde girl, leading her up and out of her hiding space. As soon as she's up, though, she hides behind the redhead.

"Uh... is she okay?" Devin adds, holding his drawer in one hand and pointing with his other.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." The redhead smiles, stepping to the side and putting an arm around the blonde's shoulder. "Chrissie's just... shy. Really shy. I'm Amy, by the way. Amy Greene."

Emily steps forward, putting out a hand, which Amy takes and shakes. "Emily Voss, junior." She draws back and begins introducing you and the others. "The big guy's Randy. He's a senior. The one with the desk drawer is Devin, and she's Marissa. They're juniors too. I think."

"You got it, dude." Devin nods, chuckling.

"Cool, cool." Amy replies, turning to Chrissie. "I'm a junior, too. And Chrissie is-"

"A f-freshman..." the blonde squeaks, still trying to hide. She continues to stare at the floor, making you wonder how bad a usual day here has to be for her.

Amy smiles again and squeezes Chrissie against her, patting her head. "Heh, isn't she cute?" Chrissie blushes, but she smiles. "Uh... you guys look like you're all ready to fight someone."

Randy takes the lead at the mention of a fight. "Yep, we were plannin' on goin' out and tryin' to get people while they were still gettin' warmed up.

Amy's eyes widen. "What? You mean you really were thinking of...?"

Uh-oh.

"You were really thinking of... killing someone?"

"Hey, it's kill or be killed!" Emily throws, shooting an expression to Amy indicating that this is something she should have already known.

"That might be, but you can't hunt people! Killing is just plain wrong, and the only way you could justify it right now is in self-defense, and even that's still sorta wrong!" She replies, frowning and pulling Chrissie closer.

You move to try to add your opinion to the debate, but something cuts you off. The door handle turns and the door opens, and in steps a skinny boy with black hair. He looks like the kind of kid who would wear a trenchcoat or something, but he's instead wearing a brown t-shirt with the name of some band you're unfamiliar with and a pair of equally brown jeans. Surprised, he throws up his hands and steps back to the wall, crushing his backpack.

"Oh! I-I-I didn't think there were-" He states, looking you all over. You look back and notice that Chrissie is gone, something that you're not too surprised about. "I don't mean anyone any harm, okay? I just... I've got folks chasing me and I don't know where else to go and-"

Amy smiles, stepping between you and Randy to get closer. "Hey, you're safe here. Don't worry."

The boy doesn't seem to relax any, and he instead heads over to a desk and drops his backpack in the chair. "All right..."

Amy nods and turns back to you, and steps over to the desk, crouching down and talking to Chrissie in an attempt to coax her out. Randy turns to the newcomer. "D'you say you've got someone chasing you?"

The boy laughs nervously, turning his back to everyone and opening his back pack. "Yeah. It's more like a lot of people. Would any of you mind checking outside to see if they know where I am?"

Emily looks at Devin, then to Randy, and then to you. "Uh, yeah. We could take a peek outside." She motions for you to follow her, but Amy grabs your arm.

"Marissa, was it?" She leans in, pulling you down and whispering conspiratorially. "...I don't trust him. Don't leave me and Chrissie alone in here, please."

You nod, turning to see that Devin, Emily and Randy have already left, with Devin standing in the doorway as Emily and Randy check the hall. The boy takes a few quick steps to get behind him and shoves him out of the room, locking the door.

"Hey, just what the hell do you think you're-?"

He pulls a gun on you to stop you from moving or talking. "Shut up! Goddamnit, just shut up!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Amy try to huddle down near the desk.

"This day was already ruined by that... that bitch in white! All I wanted to do was to get revenge on some people today, and she made that easier at first, yes... but then she had to go and make me everyone's target! And now, goddamnit, I'm not going to let you do anything, so drop your weapon!"

Well, shit. You found the gunman, but this isn't exactly the best way to be realizing that. Either way, you drop- nay, you throw- the paper cutter's arm over towards the desk, where it crashes to the floor with a clang and raise your hands in the air.

"Okay, okay, just... listen, okay? We don't want to hurt anyone here. Please, just put the gun down." You take a step forward, but he waves the gun at you, screaming.

"Stay where you are! Stay where the fuck you are, or I swear to god I'll- I'll blow your goddamned brains all over this fucking classroom!"

Shocked, you freeze in place. Randy pounds on the door, yelling for the kid to let him in. Behind you, you can hear someone crying. Poor Chrissie, this has to be a living nightmare for her.

"Who the hell is that?" The gunman asks, walking over to the desk while keeping a close watch on you. He kicks the front of the desk, causing a loud metal crash to fill the room. Amy crawls out from underneath, holding her hands above her head.

"Okay, okay, okay, don't shoot! Please, don't do anything!" Amy gasps, and a quick glance at her is all you need to see that Chrissie wasn't the only one crying. The gunman takes a step forward, leaning over the desk and gripping it with his free hand for support.

"You're weren't the only one under there. Get whoever else is under there out. Now!" He shouts, kneeing the desk again while keeping the gun fixed on Amy. Chrissie crawls up, quickly taking place behind Amy, both of whom are now openly weeping. He starts eyeing Amy and Chrissie with a sort of sick fascination. Oh god, he can't really-

"You... the redhead..." He whispers, stepping around the desk to press himself against Amy, forcing Chrissie into the wall. He presses the gun into her stomach, smiling deviously. "Go ahead. Why don't you take your top off?"

Amy's eyes widen in horror, her face clouding with confusion. "W-what?"

The gunman pushes hard with the gun into her stomach, placing a finger on her lips. "Shh... C'mon, no talking. Just take it off."

Amy looks over to you, silently begging for your help. The gunman looks over, laughing. "Hmm, you should do it, too. In fact, why don't you all get a little more... comfortable?"

Nervously, Amy gives in and takes the edges of her shirt in her hands, slowly sliding it up and baring her milky-white skin. Tears are still welling up and falling from her eyes, but she's stopped making any noise. Goddamnit, you don't want to take your shirt off, but you can't think of much else to do right now...

Do as he says... for now, at least.

Try to talk him out of this whole thing.

Bloodsport.
I Am:	Marissa P.	I'm In: Room 812.
I Feel:	Tense.
Kills:	N/A.