NIHA_2_8

5s
🌑 NIGHT 10 — QUIET, THEN CHAOS IN THE DARK

The night is mercifully dull at first. Fires burn low. Watches cycle like clockwork. The forest holds its breath — as if it knows anything louder than a twig will snap the fragile order.

Most of the hours pass with whispered routines and the small noises of survival: pots rinsed, boots probed for splinters, someone nervously whistling to themselves. Everyone is tired. Everyone is raw. Everyone expects something to break.

🕯️ The Long, Quiet Hours

Oliver’s camp keeps an easy, low watch. Gerson hums quietly to himself while Cassie stitches a new ward into Sector’s glass shield.
Gerson: “Old eyes, new night. Keep your lines. Don’t let sleep eat the perimeter.”
Cassie (soft): “Two keeping watch on the eastern ridge. Wembry and Shovel Man rotate.”

The GREATS huddle whispering near their little stage, jittery and watchful.
Scampton (barely a whisper, manic): “[DON’T LET IT BE QUIET. QUIET IS WHERE THINGS EAT YOU.]”
The Stranger (checked boots, wide grin, but tired): “We sleep in shifts. I’ll take the first watch.”

The FRAGMENTS’ camp is tense but outwardly calmer — Kueen paces like a sentinel, AntTenna cycles muted commercials on his face, Gambler flips coins to soothe his nerves, Zap sits in a daze and hums.
Mr AntTenna (muted): “Keep it tidy. Keep it quiet. Keep it… auspicious.”
Kueen (blunt): “If anyone moves odd, I stomp. That is all.”

Everyone waits. Nothing happens. Too late, too silent.

🌘 The Mistake — Junkil’s Attempt

Near dawn’s thin edge, Junkil—still raw and erratic from the Puppet incident—slips out. His movements are a corrupted staccato: giggles in morse, laughter that sounds like broken records. He carries a small, serrated tool in gloved hands.

Junkil (whispering to himself, glitching):
“STRANGER — STRANGER— QUIET— SLEEP— SNEAK— SNEAK— SNEAK—”
He creeps toward the tent where The Stranger usually sleeps, heart hammering like a drum loop.

What Junkil doesn’t know: Biowaffe-1917 has been prowling the same sector tonight, hunting silently for chances. The hulking, undead figure crouches in a shadowed ruin — a silhouette in a trenchcoat and gasmask; not The Stranger, but at first glance the profile is close enough in the half-light.

Junkil (breathless, muttering):
“Make it clean. Make it quick. We take their leader out, we—”
His glitched whisper turns to a hiss as he lunges.

⚔️ Instant Reaction — Biowaffe Strikes

Biowaffe is no dramatist. There is no shout, no flourish — only the cold, surgical efficiency he is built for.

Junkil’s blade pulls across air and fabric. Biowaffe’s blade-arm responds as if by calculation: a single, practiced arc, clean and devastating. The strike is over in a blink. Junkil collapses mid-gasp, a choking, blurted fragment of noise that dies in the leaves.

Biowaffe (flat, unemotional): “Target identified. Threat neutralized.”
He steps back into shadow, blade humming. No one hears the soft metallic cleanup as he melts into the trees.

🚨 The Aftermath — Screams, Accusations, Panic

A second later someone notices Junkil’s body — a rustle, a shout, the Stranger awake and furious, Scampton in full panic-scream.

Scampton (shrieking): “[JUNKIL—JUNKIL!! WHO DID THIS—WHO—]”
The Stranger (voice breaking between rage and horror): “Junkil—my friend—who—who would do this?”

Scampton’s eyes dart to the Fragments — to the nearest loud, obvious target: Mr AntTenna’s camp, Kueen’s stomps, Zap’s weirdness, Gambler’s coin flips — all the visible, obnoxious things from which suspicion can be made.

Scampton (pointing, hysterical): “[YOU—YOU FRAGMENTS—YOU DID THIS TO US! YOU’RE KILLERS!!]”
Mr AntTenna (projecting incredulity): “We did not! We were sleeping with contractual dignity—!”
Kueen (cold): “I stomped nowhere near them. I saw no shadow.”
Gambler (fiddling his coin, nervous): “I— I flipped— I heard nothing—”

The Stranger, bereft and furious, glares at anything that moves. Junkil had been a GREAT; his death draws immediate, raw wrath.

Scampton (wailing): “[REVENGE—WE WANT REVENGE—]”
The Stranger (strangled): “We are not safe while those puppets—those PR men—walk. We will make them pay.”

On the other side, the Fragments bristle and respond in kind.

Mr AntTenna (face flickering, outraged): “You accuse us without proof?! After Puppet? After everything? This is cowardice!”
Zap (listless, then suddenly angry): “We didn’t do it. We sleep. We don’t kill while you play rumors.”
Gambler (ironically flipping a coin): “Heads we are innocent, tails we fight. It’s a tie.” (He forces a laugh that breaks.)

🧭 Oliver & Cassie Try to Mediate (and Fail)

Oliver arrives with Gerson and Cassie, Shovel Man at his shoulder. He sees the corpse, sees the stirring mob of the GREATS, and the defensive cluster of the FRAGMENTS.

Oliver (steady, loud enough to be heard): “Stop. Stop pushing. We don’t know what happened.”
Scampton (near hysteric): “You think we’ll wait for ‘maybe’? He was—he was stabbed—”
Cassie (sharp, weary): “You started fights over a corn dog rumor yesterday. Cooling off was never going to be easy. But throwing blame without facts is murder-by-cue.”

The Stranger (bitter, voice shaking): “We saw him move into our space. He wanted our people dead. We will not be patient.”

Gerson (slow, careful): “The killer did not parade away. Whoever did this left without spectacle. That suggests a hunter — not a headline. Calm, and we track footsteps. If you attack without evidence, you hand murder to louder mouths.”

But mediation is thin skin to cut when grief is hot. The GREATS will not hear reason now. Scampton drags the crowd into a red haze of vengeance. The Fragments flare back with defensive anger. Accusatory words spark like flint.

🔥 The Rift Widens — Consequences Before Dawn

Scampton vows a formal “retaliation.” He screams about shows and justice, and the GREATS swell like a tide of accusation.

Mr AntTenna broadcasts a wounded, polite plea for evidence; his screen-face flickers angry slogans and “PROVE IT.”

Kueen stomps once into the dirt and leaves a small crater; it’s an ugly symbol and people take it as proof either of aggression or of impotent fury.

Gambler keeps flipping coins until the metal edges blur; every flip is answered by a hiss of rumor.

Zap sits and stares; his silence is read as guilt by some, shock by others.

The net result is inevitable: FRAGMENTS and THE [GREATS] hate each other more than before. Scars from the Puppet death are ripped open, and Junkil’s blood adds salt.

Scampton (screaming into the dark): “[WE WILL HAVE OUR SCENE—THEY WILL PAY!]”
Mr AntTenna (cold, answering): “We have screens. We have witnesses. We will not be lynched by rumor.”

🕯️ Night’s End — Quiet, But Not Peace

The forest slides into a brittle sleep. Watches are doubled, weapons clutched, tempers raw. Junkil’s body is left where it fell; nobody has the heart to move it yet. The Fragments fortify; the GREATS sharpen their throats.

Cassie (to Oliver, low): “This was pointless—senseless.”
Oliver (grim): “It was always going to get worse. Keep the others safe. Keep the pace. Don’t let them drag you into a lynch.”

Gerson (quiet, to Cassie): “When rumors breed bullets, story ends in silence.”
Cassie: “Then we keep watch longer.”

The Clock ticks somewhere distant and indifferent, as if marking another notch on a ledger. The island feels smaller, angrier, and louder — and as the sun threatens to rise, two groups stare at each other across a chasm not of geography, but of fury and mistrust.

Is it me or did 3/4 characters get wiped out

ai tends to not mention them if they're irrelevant to the event

Give them some screen time or smh

I was already planning on doing some screen time shii for day 11 like character development arcs and starting bands and alliance disbanding and stuff

Ooh ok

can i add a character

i mean you can go ahead but they're not gonna know what the f**k is going on between fragments and [greats]

golden freddy
an old, yellow, torn up bear animatronic, with black shadows for eyes and holes throughout it’s body. has an ominous aura and doesn’t speak much, is possessed by a child’s spirit

BREAKING NEWS! RALSAY EAT GLIZZY