bakerstreet | i am still a beast at bay

The Most Dangerous Game

"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, 'What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, 'It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason.'"
"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.
"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."
"But you can't mean--" gasped Rainsford.
"And why not?"
For some devoted hunters, the usual game begins to pall. They seek something a little more difficult. More dangerous. One that can fight back in ways that no tiger or bear or rhinocerous ever could. And so they seek out the most dangerous game available.

Humans.

And here we begin. Are you one of the hunters, seeking thrills and excitement in the pursuit of game that can potentially outwit you? Did someone coerce or force you to the island to play the game? Are you one of the hunted, somehow brought here as likely prey? Or did you somehow accidentally stumble onto the island without realizing it? No matter what option, though, you're in the midst of a fight for your life.

There are no RNG options for this meme-- simply decide what you want to be, what situation you're in, and start to play.

THE SETTING:
Hunter's Island is set in the middle of the open ocean, with no other land in sight anywhere. It's obviously too far to swim, and anyone who attempts it, or tries to fly or teleport away, will discover there's also an invisible globe-shaped barrier a couple hundred yards away from the edges of the island. The only thing that can pass through the barrier are small, unmanned helicopter-like craft that drop hunters off and then leave immediately. They return at set times, and should anyone not wearing a hunter's tag enter one, it will self-destruct.

Tags? Oh, yes. Each hunter wears a set of dog tags which are encoded (magically or scientifically, take your pick) to their unique genetic signature. The tags allow them to ride in the transports, and if they were issued any special equipment from the hunting lodge (such as communicators/walkie-talkies or night vision goggles or really special weapons) then that equipment will only function properly if it's within 30 yards of the assigned tag. And if that tag is removed from the person it belongs to, or that person dies, the tag becomes immediately inactive.

The prey, however, have a special tag injected under their skin somewhere on their body. It's all but undetectable, but it allows the lodge to keep track of how many remain on the island and, oh, dampens certain powers. Not all of them, because what hunt would be fun without a challenge, but anything that might, for example, blow up the entire island or allow someone to just sit and lob fireballs at anyone approaching will be somewhat... lessened. Perhaps the powers won't be as effective, perhaps their use will tire someone out much faster-- it depends on the individual.

There are always some prey left alive on the island before more are brought in, so that the fresh meat can learn at least something about their situation before hunters arrive, but there's not really much to tell. The goal is to stay alive, and by whatever means possible.

HOW IT WORKS:
♦ Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom in the subject, and be sure to note if you want to be hunter, hunted, or no preference. You can either set a scene yourself, or fill out this form for other commenters.

♦ Tag another character.
♦ Play out the results and respect others' preferences.
♦ Have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He feels the tug and retaliates. Rather than trying to grapple for the gun, he just keeps tight hold of it and tries to lunge it forward to hold her down more. But it's momentum. Dangerous thing, but it's all he can hope for right now. Of course, he's also ready, aware that he's putting himself in a similar position to what she did earlier. His own momentum could be changed up against him.

Edited 2012-08-13 22:29 (UTC)

When he lunges, she pulls, and moves to duck beneath him. If the momentum works in her favor, she can hopefully send him rolling off of her.

He feels the movement before he can stop it, so he has to get off her, uncertain on his bearings. Moran does, though, keep tight hold of his gun with one hand and give it a hard pull. Either she'll release it or be forced into the same unsteadiness she put him in.

She doesn't resist. If anything, she'd hoped for that. Still holding on to the gun, she allows him to pull her after him and rolls until she finds herself on top of him, positions reversed.

She winced as her bloody knee hit the ground, but she set her jaw and dug her knees into his sides, bracing herself. Breathing hard, she glared down at her attacker.

"What can I say? I look better on top."

"Can't say I much disagree." He actually chuckled a bit, but his smile showed teeth. Every bit the tiger, still. Yet, he relished the hunt. The fight. That was why he only hunted predators. He needed something that could get at him as easy as he could get at it.

"Why I like Americans." He tilts the gun, grabs the other end with his free hand, then slams it up and to the side, looking to hit her in the face with the swing. "Spirit."

He was British. Of course. Must be Tuesday.

"Yeah well-"

Releasing her grip on the gun, she jerked back out of the range of the weapon, barely avoiding the blow. As it whipped past her face, she brought her hand down on his arm, trying to push his limbs between them. Her right hand reared back, ready to try and land a punch wherever it could fall.

"-Not my fault you Brits are all wimps."

"We prefer 'proper.'"

He laughs, either despite or because of the situation. Most likely 'because of.' After all, he looks alive. Colour in his skin, fire in the eyes. The hunter has his prey, but all is in jeopardy. He couldn't enjoy this more.

The punch lands, and he moves a little to go with it. There isn't much room, though, so he has to take the brunt of the blow. He shifted then to slam his knee up into her stomach. He smirks, breathless.

"Don't judge us all by the same standards, though. Some of us know a thing."

"Gee. Sorry, buddy. I don't give a damn what you-"

But she doesn't get to finish. The knee to her stomach hurts--more than she's used to-- and she curls slightly as the force of it knocks the air from her lungs. She couldn't collapse, though. She couldnt' afford to.

Instead, her hands close around his shoulders, keeping herself upright even as she tries to gasp for air.

Christ. This one was a tiger.

He smirked more as she fought. Suddenly, Moran surged up, shoving the gun with his movement -- and letting go. It was a risk, relinquishing his firearm, but the suddenness of it might throw her off and actually let him get to his feet.

Hopefully she wouldn't know how to aim or shoot the old hunting rifle. It she did... he knew he'd hurt his chances severely.

Edited 2012-08-16 03:20 (UTC)

It was all she could do to catch the weapon before he struck her with it, and the force was still enough to dislodge her, sending her tumbling into the dirt.

Coughing for air, she concentrated all the strength she had to toss the rifle off to the side. A dumb choice, maybe, but she'd always done better fighting with her hands and feet and teeth...and she couldn't risk him taking it back. But that still left the problem of breathing.

Dragging herself back a few feet, she tried to reorient herself before it was too late.

Edited 2012-08-21 08:50 (UTC)

Moran gets to his feet at once. He doesn't attempt to retrieve his gun. All he does is steady himself, draw a few deep breaths, and unsheathe his knife. Yet, the hunter does not immediately lunge.

The gentleman in him forbids it. There is no point to this being unsporting. If she runs, he'll pursue. If she attacks, he'll respond. Either way, though, he will let her catch her breath. Then they'll begin again.

If he'd lunged, she would have run. But when he paused to watch her, she fell into a defensive stance. If he was ready to move, she couldn't risk turning her back on him.

Especially with that knife.

Straightening, she gave another pained cough--there was bruising on her ribs, if not worse--but she managed to keep her expression blank as she met his gaze.

"That all you got?"

Edited 2012-08-24 00:27 (UTC)

“It’s your move, my dear.” He was breathless, and his smile was dark, but his tone was patient. As if they were playing a card game and noticed she had become confused as to the order of turns. His pale eyes glinted as he watched her.

Fierce, deadly... but still a game to him.

"My move, huh?"

Fine. She wouldn't have the advantage, attacking like this, but she wasn't about to run. Maybe planning would have suited her better, but it had never been her strong suit.

Even without her super strength, she's fast. Determined enough to ignore the pain that resonates from her bruised ribs, she lept forward, aiming an impressively high kick at his head.

She expected to miss. In fact, she was almost counting on it. Striking him would make her lose her balance, even if it succeeded in knocking him to the ground. But it would close the gap between them, and it had the smallest chance of hurting him as part of the bargain..

i am still a beast at bay

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Inappropriate icon is inappropriate

Still a lovely icon

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