HomePortalFAQSearchMemberlistUsergroupsRegisterLog in
Rumors of a List are beginning to circle around the school... A list of what...?
I love you, Pillow ♥
Ebony was here.
Do you have any ideas for future events? Tell us!
You looked so beautiful.

Share | 
 

 Probability Be Damned

Go down 
AuthorMessage
Spinkulele

avatar

Posts : 299
Beata Bucks : 1707
Join date : 2015-12-10
Age : 17

PostSubject: Probability Be Damned   Sat May 05, 2018 7:38 pm

GORY GORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE

The plane's engine screamed in his ears, his helmet strapped tightly to his head.  Breathing was labored, nervous.  Push, pull, push, pull.

GORY GORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE


The straps of his equipment dug into his shoulders, sixty pounds turned to a million.  His feet moved back and forth periodically as his fingers danced across his equipment, his palms meeting his reserve chute.  The final safety measure but it oddly didn't make him feel very safe.  

GORY GORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE! HE AIN'T GONNA JUMP NO MORE

Suddenly his head jerked up, a man clad in in two stripes screamed out to the squad to shut their damn mouths.  The kid turned his eyes to the man, feeling a particular twang of hope as he looked to the man he grew very acquainted with in his time in boot camp.  His posture was always great, something no one quite understood of an NCO.  He was the kind of sergeant you didn't want to mess with, not cause he'd smoke you, but his look, his demeanor told you much more.  A time rushed through his mind when he joked in formation.  The NCO stopped his speaking and walked to Barnett with his usual stride that spoke only of urgency.  The NCO stopped, he said nothing, but he looked.  Not a single emotion rose from his cheekbones, not a twitch of his lips.  The NCO said not a word but Barnett felt like he just got screamed at by General Ike himself.  He got into the front leaning rest position and began his punishment when-

Aye! Barnett! Ya already got shell shock?


His stare was averted, his eyes shifted to a skinny figure sitting across from him.  He looked to be the most comfortable person in the entire platoon.  Barnett's brown eyes slowly scanned the man known to him as Leo.  Upon his helmet, a bright red cross in a circular pool of white, in the netting was a 101st patch he 'procured' from the quartermaster.  His equipment stuck to him like a second skin and his body language oozed with unfettered confidence.  Smacked upon his face as if ironed on by his own mother, the world's largest shit eating grin matched only by the bright spark in his eyes that spoke of belonging to something greater.  

 
"I probably got somethin' in my kit for that, gotta pay for the first visit to the doctor though."

Barnett snorted and shook his head "Y'ain't even a doctor.  I wouldn't trust you with puttin' a bandage on my ass after all my shots the first day,"

Leo laughed out loud, even his laugh seemed to tell the entire platoon he was more confident than them all.  Destined to do something super dumb and reckless.  His mouth curled back to reveal his slightly crooked teeth, poised and ready for his zinger of an insult when the normally calm and collected NCO stood abruptly as a red light filled the cabin.  Instructions were being shouted, attempting to get above the awful engine roar, but nothing was heard.  Barnett stood up quickly, however, his actions were on autopilot and even if he stood near the back he already heard his words bouncing in his head, ricocheting wildly.  

HOOK UP

He gripped his static line as he stood in the column of men...no, boys.  The sixteen-year-old boy, a liar for his country, hooked his parachute to a single piece of metal dangling from wall to wall.  Now no better than a piece of laundry, the next command screamed in his ears and he flinched, feeling around his ally's pack and parachute, he tightened a couple lines, kept his service weapon secured and moved on to his own reserve.  He felt it again, a familiar song playing in his head, shut up by a quiet man in the front.  He did shake in his boots, this was the real thing and he could peek out the window.  What looked like black smoke clouds exploded around the plane.  The Italians were trying to take them out of the air, he only hoped he could survive long enough to actually get a real thought in his head.  His nerves felt like steel and he was prepared, the green light was only a minute away and he was ready for his fate.  Leo stood behind him and tapped the top of Barnett's helmet, as suddenly the light changed and the nerves of steel melted away...The world was at war.  Boots in front of him stomped as his Sergeant began to push man after man through the door.  There was no hesitation to be found and Barnett knew only one thing he could do, he opened his mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream as he rushed to the door.  He felt every ounce of his body pull into the vocalization as he felt the awful stomach drop and his line yanked him around momentarily.  He was free...and the only sound he heard was ungodly loud.  His chute opened the moment a flak shell met its mark, the door was open...but now a huge hole.  Leo tumbled from the new orifice of the plane, his line not to be found, nor his left leg up to his knee.  His confidence was gone, now replaced by pale acceptance of his fate as he fell, only to drift full speed into the para-dropping Barnett.  Barnett's screaming had not ceased, but now it was of fear, his arms were tangled in his risers and his chute offered him no support.  As his speed increased, his screaming decreased as suddenly everything seemed to go dark, he supposed a heart attack would save him the pain of going splat...

THERE WAS BLOOD UPON THE RISERS, BRAINS UPON THE CHUTE

Suddenly a torn up piece of cloth appeared a couple feet from the ground of a very unfamiliar place.  From the bottom of such a contraption, a pair of jump boots poked out.  A wave of nausea overcame the now very conscious Barnett as he fumbled with the sheath of his Ka-bar that hung from his ankle.  His arms were stuck in a mess of wiring but he was determined and despite a few failed attempts with his fingers to release the tool, he finally got it open and an adequate grip on the handle to offer him the ability to free himself from his cloth prison.  A loud tearing sound accompanied his charge to liberty, finally free from the oppression of the thing meant to save him.  He turned onto his side and promptly let out a few heaves as he tried to reach his hands and knees before losing the great lunch served to him right before deploying...fuckers.  They served them the best homecooked meals before going to battle, what a way to keep a paratrooper ready.  After staring at his chicken and gravy for a moment, he pulled himself together enough to retrieve his service weapon.  The first semi-automatic rifle actively mass produced, the M1 Garand.  A beautiful high tech piece of technology.  He pulled the bolt back and loaded in a fresh clip when finally a realization hit him.  There was no gunfire, no flak...in fact, it was middle of the day.  He jumped in the middle of the Italian night...His confusion was unmatched as he pulled a map from his very front pocket, he began to search for landmarks around him but nothing...NOTHING seemed to match what the map was communicating.  This was going to be a long war if he couldn't even fight some goddamn fascists because he was lost in the Italian countryside...

_________________


Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sleepy
Bottom Pillow
avatar

Posts : 3799
Beata Bucks : 6244
Join date : 2013-03-14
Age : 19
Location : Fire's Pants/Seattle, WA

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Mon May 14, 2018 8:48 pm

She couldn't say how long he'd been there, or how she'd possibly been able to ignore him before. The nicest day to skip class, reading Slaughterhouse-Five in the shade; of course someone had to stumble by causing a racket. Jane peeked up from the book, and after a minute or two of staring, snapped it close. There were plenty of weirdos mixed into the student body here, and in most cases it was safest to keep walking and avoid eye contact, but she couldn't resist speaking out. Handsome clean-cut boy like that; poor soul looked plain lost. Distraught, almost. Drugs? "Sick cosplay, dude!" she shouted, flicking her wrist to her temple in mock salute. "Is that a real gun? Like, with real bullets?"

Not that she knew much about guns when she could barely carry one, but the thing in his hands might as well have been a Red Ryder to her. "Wait. You're not from some kind of weird militia or anything, are you?" She'd almost forgotten the possibility until she remembered which state she was in.

_________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Spinkulele

avatar

Posts : 299
Beata Bucks : 1707
Join date : 2015-12-10
Age : 17

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Tue May 15, 2018 2:19 pm

Paulie had just put his map back into his pocket when the voice across the yard rang out.  He quickly raised his service weapon at the noise and odd remark sighting her head directly and bellowing out "Americano! Ritirarsi!"  Then across his face came a wave of recognition and he quickly dropped his weapon to his side.  She was speaking...English?  American accented English at that.  He was dumbfounded as he slowly approached the girl, clutching his weapon tightly and remaining in a ready position.  His eyes continued to scan the horizon around him as he not only took in the information of the town but kept watch.  He had no idea how the Italians would fight...she could be a prisoner for all he knew.  

He stopped about ten yards away from her, his eyes darting side to side under the dark face paint applied on the B-18.  He stood quite a queer figure, the large leather chinstrap keeping his helmet firmly on his head as he kept his service weapon pointed at the ground between the two.  He obviously seemed ready to raise his weapon at any point and he looked awfully suspiciously at the strangely dressed girl before her.  He kept his voice from wavering, but his adrenaline was beginning to rush, he was prepared for a group of fascists to come out of every damn tree and the strain in his voice was clear

"I am Paul Barnett with the 82nd Airborne, United States Army.  I need you to tell me where I am.  And maybe how long I was out..." His gaze seemed sharp and he seemed coiled up and ready to come unwound.

_________________


Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sleepy
Bottom Pillow
avatar

Posts : 3799
Beata Bucks : 6244
Join date : 2013-03-14
Age : 19
Location : Fire's Pants/Seattle, WA

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Tue May 15, 2018 3:07 pm

She flinched back from the gun, flinging up her hands and letting the book drop from her fingers into the grass, before remembering that it was probably a prop from Mr. Wright's theater class. Jane snatched the book up from the ground, keeping herself from huffing.

"You?" Was there a base near here or something? Or was he just really in character? Her working eye flicked up toward the midday North Dakota sky and frowned. Maybe this was gonna be like X-Men, and the government was going to round up all the freaks and drive them off to a lab somewhere. "Well, we're sure as hell not in Iraq. If you really don't know where this is, then you're seriously lost." You didn't exactly wander in here by accident; he had to be messing with her. Or hungover.

Jane slowly slipped her phone out of her uniform pocket and flashed the screen toward him.

1:03 PM
WEDNESDAY, MAY 5, 2038

"That's one-three-oh-three, Private Joker. Looks like you had a hell of a Tuesday." Who got wasted the day before Cinco de Mayo?

_________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Spinkulele

avatar

Posts : 299
Beata Bucks : 1707
Join date : 2015-12-10
Age : 17

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Fri May 18, 2018 7:05 pm

She seemed veryvery indignant.  As she picked up her book his face contorted in confusion as he left his weapon in the safe but ready position.  Who did she think she was when someone has a rifle pointed at her face, acting all like she can't die.  As she spoke, his eyes flitted across her uniform and it looked so...odd.  Conservative sure, but the material seemed like something out of a space-age talkie.  And she mentioned...Iraq?  What the Hell was an Iraq? And why the Hell is she going on about it? He piped up, who was this one-eyed kid to talk to a highly trained G.I.

"Listen, I know I dropped in Italy but this definitely doesn't look anything like-"

That's when she pulled out a piece of long metal.  It looked hammered flat and he flinched at first, thinking it to be some kind of bomb when it's glass front suddenly flicked on.  Paul was dumbfounded...What the Hell was that?  His eyes deceived him and he shook it off as she kept it pointed towards him defiantly.  He finally recognized the text sitting in front of him as she spouted off some kind of nonsense.  His world tunneled as his eyes were locked firmly to the piece of technology showing a little line of text.  His eyes shifted line by line when finally they stopped on a certain piece of information...2038???  His mouth moved, attempting to form words but there was nothing to make...this was a dream.  His mind is throwing something in there as he's dying in the Italian countryside, he's dead or...or something!

His head shook as his eyes darted to the clothes...the long slice of metal...the year? His heart thumped loudly in his chest; finally, his mouth began to form words, just barely "I-I-... Twenty-thirty-eigh..."  His eyes shifted to meet the girl's his face in complete awe.  A sudden rush overtook his head, but he pushed it back and a snarl escaped his lips as he raised the rifle above her head, targeting the tree she sat happily by just a minute ago.  He let out half a breath as he fired and lowered the rifle toward the ground.

"I dropped into Sicily in Nineteen-Forty-Two.  I don't know what kind of agency you're fuckin' workin' for, but I have a squad of men who are fighting fascism so you...wear skirts that damn SHORT.  I have to get to them before they or I get blown to smithereens...Where the Hell am I?"  He kept his weapon lowered, but it seemed to hang just a bit closer to the feet of the girl in front of him.  His feet were staggered, hands firmly on his weapon and back slightly hunched, he was prepared for any movement.  He seemed to feel in control from his face, but behind it all, in his eyes...were fear.  Palpable, this was war but not as he knew it.  Nothing seemed right and his NCO always told him to suspect anyone...Who was she and why did she act so much like it didn't matter he was armed.  Was she so used to the fighting...?  Or did she have some kind of reason to be confident?  He didn't know...but damn he wasn't about to be told he was in another damn century and take it like gold.

_________________


Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sleepy
Bottom Pillow
avatar

Posts : 3799
Beata Bucks : 6244
Join date : 2013-03-14
Age : 19
Location : Fire's Pants/Seattle, WA

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Sat May 19, 2018 7:54 pm

That was probably the point where she should've called it quits. Loony guy with a gun babbling on about fascism. That meant it was time to leave in most situations. But in some way, she got the impression he was more scared than she was. Eyes wide as dinner plates, all the color gone from his face, talking complete nonsense. Sicily. Nineteen Forty-Two. US Army. Her eye flicked down to the weapon, back up to him, and then down toward his hands. As far as she knew, that thing was made out of plastic. But the last thing she needed was another trip to the infirmary. Jane grabbed sub-consciously at the hem of her skirt. "For the record, they only get shorter from here, so you better get used to it." She slipped the phone back into her pocket, keeping a steady gaze and shoulders tensed. "This is a school uniform. We're standing in front of Beata Academy. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Maybe he was just drunk. But here, out of any place on earth, she was prepared to believe anything. Jane could've pulled out a map on her phone, but decided against it with another twitchy glance toward his trigger finger. "You're not getting there any time soon. This is North Dakota, buddy. United States of America. The year is Twenty Thirty-Eight." She held out an open arm. "You're breaking my heart. Put the toy away and come walk with me. We'll get you straightened out."

_________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Spinkulele

avatar

Posts : 299
Beata Bucks : 1707
Join date : 2015-12-10
Age : 17

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Sun May 27, 2018 12:13 pm

He kept his weapon raised at her as she spoke...his ears were ringing. What was she saying to him? She spoke to him like he was a child...does she not realize he's a government issue? He was one of the highest trained soldiers...How could this be 2038? How could he just end up here? It wasn't possible and it felt like every question answered brought up three more questions. Finally, he let out a breath and lowered the firearm. He slung it over his shoulder and walked up to the girl, staring at her intently for a moment before quickly wrapping her up in his arms, he hadn't talked to someone that wasn't a soldier in what felt like years. He just survived a drop that very well seemed like his last and he didn't have to run out into gunfire and watch more people die. Apparently, America was still in one piece since he could walk around North Dakota and they weren't speaking German or Japanese.

He pushed away from her as a tear rolled down his cheek...why was he crying?

"I'm...sorry about that I just...it's a long story. So this is really 2038? Like the 2038? With flying cars and stuff? I mean you have that...radio-thing in your pocket that tells the time and the date."

_________________


Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sleepy
Bottom Pillow
avatar

Posts : 3799
Beata Bucks : 6244
Join date : 2013-03-14
Age : 19
Location : Fire's Pants/Seattle, WA

PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   Mon May 28, 2018 9:51 pm

She gave him an awkward pat. Worst case scenario, this guy was just nuts. But even if he was nuts, it didn't change that he looked like he was in a bad spot. Worst case scenario or not, this was the right thing to do... probably. She felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate as the gun slipped around behind his back. "We're still working on the cars. This 'radio-thing' is—..." She paused, reaching into her pockets. How were you supposed to fill somebody in on everything they'd missed the last hundred years? With a spot of hesitation, Jane slipped her phone out of her pocket, swiped past the security pattern, and slipped the slim device into his hands. "Sure. I guess it's kind of like a radio."

_________________
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sponsored content




PostSubject: Re: Probability Be Damned   

Back to top Go down
 
Probability Be Damned
Back to top 
Page 1 of 1

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
Beata Academy :: School Grounds :: Entrance-
Jump to: