05-26-2015, 03:10 AM
It appeared as though the fates of Jon and Crona were destined to not intertwine with each other again just yet.
Jon had managed to scour almost every inch, nook, corner and cranny of the barracks before the contest had begun. Yet the drumming of the alarms as well as the signal for the attention of all competitors brought Snow's search to an inconclusive, abrupt ending. The barracks phase was over; all contestants currently stationed at their bunks were to stay there to be escorted, and everyone else was to head for the elevator and onto the roof to be collected and transported. There's still a chance I can find him, on the Island.. A loose chance, Jon knew. The probability of it happening was next to none, but the bastard still clinged onto the shaky hope. And in his short time spent in the Omniverse, he knew anything was possible, that few things were truly impossible.
There really was some charm to this place with that mental thought, Jon supposed.
When the looping dull and lifeless male voice that came after the sassy, exurbent tones of none of other than Karl Jak himself instructed that contenders would need to bring the black duffel bags situated in their rooms along with them, Jon made his way back to his bunking space with no time to waste. Turning the door handle and barging through his door, Jon hurried over to where the bag was placed; Snow hadn't even moved the luggage sack from the position it had been sitting in when he had gotten hear. The bastard heaved it over his shoulders; he didn't spare a moment to take a peak inside of it, which he had yet to do. There simply was not enough time.
Emerging from his tiny room, the thought of closing the door surpassed Jon as he made quick haste for the elevator. Why did he walk so fast? He began to question himself on it. He didn't want to be here, not at all. It was a terrible thing, a horrible thing. Why did the prospect of mindless slaughter and killing exhilarate and entertain so many people? So many lives wasted away, and for what? So one man or woman could choke on the glory, riches and fame they'd earn from coming out as the victor in all of this?
It simply wasn't right.
As Jon Snow came upon the elevator, it's familiar metallic doors were parted wide and waiting for him. He stepped inside, fur-cloak wavering somewhat as he turned his body in a sudden motion. He took a moment to stare over the pad, still vastly unfamiliar with the mechanisms and operational functions of this machinery. One he got his bearings, a gloved finger struck forward, stabbing into the singular button; the one that would take him straight up too the roof. The elevator doors closed to a shut, and began it's ascension.
The elevator doors re-opened once again in no time, and Jon found himself on the roof. A cold wind nipped and flew itself against him as Jon stepped out into the open. The nights sky was dark and murky, a moonlight hue glimmering down on the surfaces beneath it. Some sort of vehicle which looked useful for gathering wind and flying awaited the bastard on an elevated pad. Four blades fixated at the top of it spun and twirled, and the noise it produced gave Jon something of a bloody earache.
A formal looking man in a suit and tie turned his glance to Jon as he emerged, approaching him quickly. He carried two items in both of his hands.
"Impeccable timing" the man complimented Jon on his apparently solid punctuality. "Your chopper is one of the last to leave. We'd thought you wouldn't show". Jon stared silently at the suited gentleman. He became much more interested and invested in the items he'd been holding in his hands though, as the weapons were handed over to him.
He received the actual weapon itself, first. Something that was clearly crafted for an archer or a marksman rested across Snow's palms. Pressing into certain locks, Jon could fold and unfold the weapon at his whimsy, making it smaller and a bit more discrete. It was rather high-tech and advanced for a man such as Jon Snow, but the more he stared down at it, the more familiar he became with it's make and design, and recognise it's function and uses. Making sure it was in it's folded state, Jon buckled the weapon at his belt, ready to accept the second item.
The ammunition, clearly. Jon didn't even need to stare at these for too long, either. Once he saw it, he knew what these were for, and that some luck had favoured him in this selection. He slugged the stack onto his back, glancing to the formal man for further input.
"They're waiting for you" he grinned faintly as he motioned over to the 'chopper' that sat before Jon. Looking to the flying monstrosity, Jon gave a stern nod, expression shifting to something a little nervous as he approached it. The sounds of blades spinning and whirling became louder and clearer as he stepped, and truly were testing the might and will of his eardrums right now.
The door slid open as Jon approached, and one of the security men welcomed Jon aboard, extending a hand downward to assist Jon up. The doors slammed shut as Jon took his seat and bucked up, the elevator beginning to ascend from the concrete ground. It levitated higher and higher into the sky, and the same feeling of dizziness and exhilaration overtook Jon. A familiar clenching feeling stung at his gut, as though he were hanging upside down by his feet and being shook vigorously many times over.
Aside from this, the short chopper-ride to the Island was plainly uneventful. Jon only shared the space with security men and others under Karl's servitude. Jon did get a nice view of the gleaming ocean through the small, circular window attached to the door, though, the moon's shine bouncing off of the pale-blue waters and calm waves. He caught a brief glimpse of the island as they hovered over it, though everything was so little from the height they flew it, and it was hard to make out anything besides a few dotted landmarks and structures.
The chopper began to lower down as they reached the point of Jon's assigned beginning spot. Snow's heart began to race and pump with anticipation and worry as he slowly unbuckled himself, rising silently and steadily from his seat. Once the flying vehicle was at an equal height from the floor where Jon wouldn't injure himself from jumping, the peacekeeper closest to the door gripped at the handle, rising from his seat slightly to slide it open, silently gesturing Jon out.
Jon took a deep breath as he peered out from the slant doorway. "This is it, isn't it?" he questioned the men with a slight desperation in his tones. "There really is no going back from here... is there?" One of the men stared silently and almost apathetically at Jon, shaking his head slowly in response.
Jon gulped. With a silent nod in return, he glanced back out of the chopper. He felt afraid, and he had no shame in admitting it to himself and anyone else. In a daring motion, he leaped from the chopper, feet landing firmly on the grass floor. He glanced back at the chopper floating above him as the doors slammed shut, the copter slowly drifting further and further away from him, leaving him completely stranded and with little hope for escape.
Jon look around. Now, where was he...?
Some kind of small village or hamlet. The place was completely desolate and abandoned, a ghost town devoid of life, yet things were laid out in a way that made it seem that there was once, or could have been active presence of life and community here. A humongous mountain jutted out from the earth and reached high for the horizon, overshadowing the small village Jon stood in now with it's sheer might and size.
Jon sighed, his warm breath chilling and vaporising into a small whisp of mist. Jon Snow wasn't exactly where he wanted to begin, but he had a rough idea already - that one being that where he stood now wasn't entirely safe for him. Jon's natural talent for strategy and mind for tactics began to initiate itself into his own thinking. The small buildings and huts masked him well enough, yes, but anyone could be lurking around these corners, waiting to get the drop on him. Jon wouldn't even know they were there; he'd be walking right into their hands. Where he needed to be right now was wide, open space. It made him more visible to the naked eye, yes, but he'd be able to see someone charging for him from a mile away. It was a better place than any to gather his thoughts and bearings together.
With his course of action in mind, Jon looked around.Which way? There was so many pathways that cut into so many directions. Jon felt lost, and overwhelmed, almost.
He turned his gaze back toward the mountain, his eyes widening a bit as he came to a realisation.
Yes...
His plan and directions were sorted. He could slip past the mountain. That still gave him some leverage as his movements would still be somewhat masked and his tracks covered, and Jon doubted anyone had reached or was scaling the mountain at this point. Even so, if they'd been doing it for the straight amount of time everything had been happening, they would probably be high enough to not spot Jon passing by, or they simply wouldn't bother to climb all the way back down and waste all that time and effort to attack him.
Jon bared his teeth as he drew his weapon from his belt, the ranged device unfolding with a click as Jon pressed his fingers against the springs buttons. Caution never hurt for anything, and Jon still didn't feel entirely safe here, though he'd yet to see any kind of distant shadow lurking in the distance or behind one of the shacks.
Jon moved forward, moving as quickly as he could, checking every corner as he passed them. He felt on high alert, and he moved quickly, but things still moved along slowly and suspense fully. This would be a long night, he knew.
He just had a silent hope that nobody would need to perish by his own doing, on this night.
Jon had managed to scour almost every inch, nook, corner and cranny of the barracks before the contest had begun. Yet the drumming of the alarms as well as the signal for the attention of all competitors brought Snow's search to an inconclusive, abrupt ending. The barracks phase was over; all contestants currently stationed at their bunks were to stay there to be escorted, and everyone else was to head for the elevator and onto the roof to be collected and transported. There's still a chance I can find him, on the Island.. A loose chance, Jon knew. The probability of it happening was next to none, but the bastard still clinged onto the shaky hope. And in his short time spent in the Omniverse, he knew anything was possible, that few things were truly impossible.
There really was some charm to this place with that mental thought, Jon supposed.
When the looping dull and lifeless male voice that came after the sassy, exurbent tones of none of other than Karl Jak himself instructed that contenders would need to bring the black duffel bags situated in their rooms along with them, Jon made his way back to his bunking space with no time to waste. Turning the door handle and barging through his door, Jon hurried over to where the bag was placed; Snow hadn't even moved the luggage sack from the position it had been sitting in when he had gotten hear. The bastard heaved it over his shoulders; he didn't spare a moment to take a peak inside of it, which he had yet to do. There simply was not enough time.
Emerging from his tiny room, the thought of closing the door surpassed Jon as he made quick haste for the elevator. Why did he walk so fast? He began to question himself on it. He didn't want to be here, not at all. It was a terrible thing, a horrible thing. Why did the prospect of mindless slaughter and killing exhilarate and entertain so many people? So many lives wasted away, and for what? So one man or woman could choke on the glory, riches and fame they'd earn from coming out as the victor in all of this?
It simply wasn't right.
As Jon Snow came upon the elevator, it's familiar metallic doors were parted wide and waiting for him. He stepped inside, fur-cloak wavering somewhat as he turned his body in a sudden motion. He took a moment to stare over the pad, still vastly unfamiliar with the mechanisms and operational functions of this machinery. One he got his bearings, a gloved finger struck forward, stabbing into the singular button; the one that would take him straight up too the roof. The elevator doors closed to a shut, and began it's ascension.
The elevator doors re-opened once again in no time, and Jon found himself on the roof. A cold wind nipped and flew itself against him as Jon stepped out into the open. The nights sky was dark and murky, a moonlight hue glimmering down on the surfaces beneath it. Some sort of vehicle which looked useful for gathering wind and flying awaited the bastard on an elevated pad. Four blades fixated at the top of it spun and twirled, and the noise it produced gave Jon something of a bloody earache.
A formal looking man in a suit and tie turned his glance to Jon as he emerged, approaching him quickly. He carried two items in both of his hands.
"Impeccable timing" the man complimented Jon on his apparently solid punctuality. "Your chopper is one of the last to leave. We'd thought you wouldn't show". Jon stared silently at the suited gentleman. He became much more interested and invested in the items he'd been holding in his hands though, as the weapons were handed over to him.
He received the actual weapon itself, first. Something that was clearly crafted for an archer or a marksman rested across Snow's palms. Pressing into certain locks, Jon could fold and unfold the weapon at his whimsy, making it smaller and a bit more discrete. It was rather high-tech and advanced for a man such as Jon Snow, but the more he stared down at it, the more familiar he became with it's make and design, and recognise it's function and uses. Making sure it was in it's folded state, Jon buckled the weapon at his belt, ready to accept the second item.
The ammunition, clearly. Jon didn't even need to stare at these for too long, either. Once he saw it, he knew what these were for, and that some luck had favoured him in this selection. He slugged the stack onto his back, glancing to the formal man for further input.
"They're waiting for you" he grinned faintly as he motioned over to the 'chopper' that sat before Jon. Looking to the flying monstrosity, Jon gave a stern nod, expression shifting to something a little nervous as he approached it. The sounds of blades spinning and whirling became louder and clearer as he stepped, and truly were testing the might and will of his eardrums right now.
The door slid open as Jon approached, and one of the security men welcomed Jon aboard, extending a hand downward to assist Jon up. The doors slammed shut as Jon took his seat and bucked up, the elevator beginning to ascend from the concrete ground. It levitated higher and higher into the sky, and the same feeling of dizziness and exhilaration overtook Jon. A familiar clenching feeling stung at his gut, as though he were hanging upside down by his feet and being shook vigorously many times over.
Aside from this, the short chopper-ride to the Island was plainly uneventful. Jon only shared the space with security men and others under Karl's servitude. Jon did get a nice view of the gleaming ocean through the small, circular window attached to the door, though, the moon's shine bouncing off of the pale-blue waters and calm waves. He caught a brief glimpse of the island as they hovered over it, though everything was so little from the height they flew it, and it was hard to make out anything besides a few dotted landmarks and structures.
The chopper began to lower down as they reached the point of Jon's assigned beginning spot. Snow's heart began to race and pump with anticipation and worry as he slowly unbuckled himself, rising silently and steadily from his seat. Once the flying vehicle was at an equal height from the floor where Jon wouldn't injure himself from jumping, the peacekeeper closest to the door gripped at the handle, rising from his seat slightly to slide it open, silently gesturing Jon out.
Jon took a deep breath as he peered out from the slant doorway. "This is it, isn't it?" he questioned the men with a slight desperation in his tones. "There really is no going back from here... is there?" One of the men stared silently and almost apathetically at Jon, shaking his head slowly in response.
Jon gulped. With a silent nod in return, he glanced back out of the chopper. He felt afraid, and he had no shame in admitting it to himself and anyone else. In a daring motion, he leaped from the chopper, feet landing firmly on the grass floor. He glanced back at the chopper floating above him as the doors slammed shut, the copter slowly drifting further and further away from him, leaving him completely stranded and with little hope for escape.
Jon look around. Now, where was he...?
Some kind of small village or hamlet. The place was completely desolate and abandoned, a ghost town devoid of life, yet things were laid out in a way that made it seem that there was once, or could have been active presence of life and community here. A humongous mountain jutted out from the earth and reached high for the horizon, overshadowing the small village Jon stood in now with it's sheer might and size.
Jon sighed, his warm breath chilling and vaporising into a small whisp of mist. Jon Snow wasn't exactly where he wanted to begin, but he had a rough idea already - that one being that where he stood now wasn't entirely safe for him. Jon's natural talent for strategy and mind for tactics began to initiate itself into his own thinking. The small buildings and huts masked him well enough, yes, but anyone could be lurking around these corners, waiting to get the drop on him. Jon wouldn't even know they were there; he'd be walking right into their hands. Where he needed to be right now was wide, open space. It made him more visible to the naked eye, yes, but he'd be able to see someone charging for him from a mile away. It was a better place than any to gather his thoughts and bearings together.
With his course of action in mind, Jon looked around.Which way? There was so many pathways that cut into so many directions. Jon felt lost, and overwhelmed, almost.
He turned his gaze back toward the mountain, his eyes widening a bit as he came to a realisation.
Yes...
His plan and directions were sorted. He could slip past the mountain. That still gave him some leverage as his movements would still be somewhat masked and his tracks covered, and Jon doubted anyone had reached or was scaling the mountain at this point. Even so, if they'd been doing it for the straight amount of time everything had been happening, they would probably be high enough to not spot Jon passing by, or they simply wouldn't bother to climb all the way back down and waste all that time and effort to attack him.
Jon bared his teeth as he drew his weapon from his belt, the ranged device unfolding with a click as Jon pressed his fingers against the springs buttons. Caution never hurt for anything, and Jon still didn't feel entirely safe here, though he'd yet to see any kind of distant shadow lurking in the distance or behind one of the shacks.
Jon moved forward, moving as quickly as he could, checking every corner as he passed them. He felt on high alert, and he moved quickly, but things still moved along slowly and suspense fully. This would be a long night, he knew.
He just had a silent hope that nobody would need to perish by his own doing, on this night.
![[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/bceb0feb3876c0a578aebfda0bc7b306/tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png)