Survival Of The Fittest

By the time Alex looked up and started to address Isaiah, the runner was fifty feet away and not slowing down.

It was... well, no way around it, he wasn't really being brave or helping anyone. Thing was, as soon as the fists had started to fly, it became pretty clear that nobody here wanted or needed his help. The swearing, the punching, the blood, it was all the worst of everything Isaiah had ever thought about his classmates, come true before his eyes. This was what he'd feared, what he'd expected to meet everywhere, what he'd been so pleased to momentarily escape.

The absolutely brutal part of this situation was that it wasn't anyone's fault. Alex had goaded Jimmy. That was wrong. Jimmy had retaliated through escalation. That was wrong. Isaiah hadn't been able to do anything to stop it, had actually helped it along with a little cutting remark of his own. That was wrong.

But if three wrongs didn't make a right, layering on a fourth wasn't going to bring them any closer. The only way to break the fight up now would be violence. The two boys hadn't seemed super thrilled with Isaiah to begin with, and while the thought of unifying them in brotherhood and a common goal was wonderful and touching, the fact that that goal would almost certainly be beating the stuffing out of Isaiah for interrupting their little dance removed the luster of the plan pretty quick. So Isaiah had taken a second to watch, making sure they weren't throwing around anything that looked like it'd actually get one of them killed, and then he'd split. He was pretty sure he was making the right choice. Pretty sure his mission here, whatever it was, involved actually accomplishing something instead of preaching to a brick wall.

He heard Alex's question from somewhere behind him: "...Isaiah, right? Want to answer a question for me?"

Lord help him, but he couldn't just bail on a line like that. Slowing for just a second, he tossed back over his shoulder, "I'll give it a pass today, but thanks for the offer. Maybe a rain check?"

And with that, he kept going, hopping over the logs, hoping he wasn't going to be chased down and clobbered, hoping he could find some people who actually wanted a hand instead of spinning his wheels like he'd done so far.

((Isaiah Garvey continued in Aimless))

...Well shit.

"Ah well... Jimmy? Jimmy. Oi."

Alex just wanted to make sure the noisy and boisterous boy was really out cold. To make absolutely sure, he proceeded to poke Jimmy in the side with his foot. Repeatedly.

"Out cold huh? Good. Stay that way for a couple hours."

Right, time to wrap it up there. Alex had someone to find, after all, so sitting around here with none other than Jimmy fucking Brennan, out cold and drooling, wasn't going to help make progress in his goals. Then again, his goals weren't exactly the most illustrious; find girl, steal girl's pills, make up for lost time. Really, this probably wouldn't be the last time he knocked someone out to find Andrea. But was she really worth it? Or rather, were the pills she had worth all of this? The hostility and the anger and the fighting, was it really worth it?

Probably not. But it was fun.

"You know what Jimmy? I know we didn't clash back in school much but I have to say, it's very fun to kick your ass. I can see why you always got into fights before and why my dad always kept telling me this stuff was for self defense. It's invigorating, y'know? Knowing that at any moment, you could overpower anyone you met... Looks like I proved that with you huh?"

Alex was squatting down next to Jimmy's unconscious body, poking him idly and digging through his backpack while he spoke. Every now and then he'd pull something out for a closer look only to toss it aside; he wasn't looking to take Jimmy's food or water or clothing. He wanted to see if the foul mouthed boy had anything along the line of Ritalin or something similar in that backpack of his. He certainly seemed the type to be diagnosed with ADD or ADHD or something like that. But no luck in finding anything he would really take from the boy. No pills and even more surprisingly, no weapons. Just a can.

"Didn't take you for one to drink Moxie, Jimmy boy. Really, who drinks this stuff? I haven't even heard about it since I moved. But hey, I'll tell you what. I'll leave it with you today. I'm not so vindictive to take a man's soft drink."

Setting the can directly in front of Jimmy's face, he continued rifling through his things before tossing the backpack aside. Nothing useful he was comfortable with taking. Just the same food that Alex was given and Jimmy's spare clothes, though a few things were already missing. No map and no water bottle, just spare clothes. He could use a change of wardrobe but that was about all Alex thought concerning the clothes. He didn't need 'em, didn't want 'em and certainly had no use for them outside of rags for the torch. Which reminded him...

"Probably not a good idea to leave this lying here. Could start a fire."

Alex picked up the still burning torch and tried to get the barely burning fire to take once more. He wasn't paying attention to the ground or the fact the torch had indeed started a fire. At least not until after the torch was burning healthily once again. Only then did he look down and notice the little fire that had started in the detritus. It was great tinder, this old dead plant matter. Better take care of that fire though...

"Oh, ha. Looks like I already did. Again!"

Of course, he wouldn't just let it burn. Really, Jimmy was a pain and it was a riot kicking him around a bit, but killing the poor boy by leaving him to burn? Not part of the plan and definitely not something Alex wanted to do. He wasn't exactly in his right mind but he still wasn't about to let the boy die.

Well, at least not by his own actions.

"You know, I didn't even really mean to set the first one in the swamp. It just sort of spread. One second it's just a burning rag in a bottle and the next, poof, it's a big ol' wildfire."

Why was he talking to Jimmy anyways? It's not like he could really hear him and respond or anything.

"Ah well... Here, I'll give you a little something to keep you alive. Soda isn't the most hydrating of drinks, y'know. You should have brought Gatorade instead. Y'know what... consider it a trade. I did take something, after all. I think it's a fair trade, don't you?"

Digging out a half empty water bottle from one of the bags on his back, he didn't really care which, Alex proceeded to leave the little gift next to Jimmy's can of Moxie. It felt a little weird doing that after knocking Jimmy out like that, but Alex wasn't all bad. He was just... I don't know, irritable? Irrational? Who knows, exactly. Something wasn't quite clicking after losing his addictive substance, that much was certain.

"Well, it's been fun Jimmy. But I'm going to hit the road. Got things to do..."

Pills to take...

"And people to see."

Holding up an object he'd apparently taken from Jimmy's bag, Alex grinned for a moment.

I may have lost it... but damn, it certainly is fun.

Pocketing the compass with his destination in mind, Alex was off.

Leaving Jimmy in the dirt.

"Feelin' a little Tom Cruise Crazy..."

[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued in The Magi.]

Jimmy Brennan walked down the hall of Bayview Secondary, his head low to the ground. The bandage on his nose obscured most of his vision; the right side of his face was a swollen purple mess. Jimmy always assumed bruises would be some sort of a trophy, battle scars. These were anything but. His face and his nose were a painful throbbing reminder of his failure. The fight had occurred only a day ago, but the news had spread fast. By noon, not a single kid at Bayview would be in the dark. Jimmy Brennan was the laughing stock of the school and even now he could picture kids clustered at lunch tables, talking about how Phillip Ward made him his little bitch.

I wasn't. That wasn't how it happened. It was a lucky shot!

His anger was tight, a pain in his gut he couldn't remove. It was tearing a hole through him, and every lingering gaze only increased it. Ward had been pissed to say the least, after his ban from the team. Hockey was one of the only things he seemed to like, and Jimmy had momentarily taken it away from him.

At least I did that. At least I made him squirm, that crazy fuck…

Ward was still pissed and Jimmy would have been a fool to not suspect an eventual retaliation. He wasn't a fool. Phillip may have won the fight, but he wasn't done yet.

They never are. They can't just leave me alone! I left him smarting though. That's something. I did something. Get it Jimmy? You HURT him. It wasn't a total loss. It was a warm up.

That was just a warm up Jimmy. Wait ‘till the day it's for real. Then you'll show'em. You'll show'em all what Jimmy fucking Brennan can do!


Jimmy Brennan opened his eyes and let out a sob. His nose felt shattered, his muscles ached. He was vaguely away he was bleeding, from where he did not know. Gingerly he raised one of his gloved hands up to his face, giving a cry as pain laced its way up his arm. Laying on his back, Jimmy gently prodded his face trying to locate the source of the blood. It didn't do much good. It seemed like there was blood everywhere, pain everywhere. Alex White had done what every kid at Bayview dreamed of, beating the living shit out of Jimmy Brennan.

Fucker left enough of me for others though... Motherfucker… My face…

Jimmy realized he was crying, but nothing short of the wrath of God could make him stop. He'd been lying to himself, holding a curtain up to his life, obscuring the bad, embellishing the… non-existent. Sadness flowed through him along with another wracking sob. He had nothing. To these people, even in the end times, he was nothing.

It hurts. Oh god, my face, my fucking ARM, it hurts…

He had awoken a few minutes after Alex had departed, and had lain still for far longer. The idea of Alex coming back to finish the job, to snap his cowardly neck was terrifying and the fear had kept him awake long after his adrenaline had quit. If Jimmy was going to die, he was going to die with dignity.

Doesn't change the fact I don't want to fucking DIE though, does it?

His luck had been incredible. To blunder about in the woods with zero sense of direction and training and not run into some sociopath with a gun and some spare time on his hands, it had to be luck. Because the only other option was skill, and as Jimmy was becoming acutely aware, he had no skill.

Jimmy finally succeeded in sitting up. With a final pathetic sniffle, Jimmy began his next painful task, standing again. His legs were numb and he felt dizzy, not to mention his balls continued to ache at the mere thought of Carly Jean. He briefly wondered how many hits the video had accumulated on Youtube. Laying next to him on the ground was a strange sight. His can of Moxie sat next to a half empty water bottle, absolutely pristine. Mocking him. He scowled and snatched it up, throwing it in his bag along with the water bottle. Thoughts of Carly Jean filled his mind and his scowl intensified.

What a fucking bitch. The next time I see her, the next time…

Jimmy's thoughts trailed off. He couldn't complete the sentence. For all the hate he had, he didn't have enough. And it was killing him. Kicking the dirt, Jimmy staggered momentarily. Everything he had, he had tried to give everything he had in that one moment, that one punch. What had happened?

Shit all. I punched him, it did shit all. He had me down, he knocked me out. I can cuss all I want, I can try all I want, but I can't. My luck is going to run out. I'm going to die here, and no one will care.

It was infuriating. It was terrifying. Jimmy had been punched, he had been abused, but he had never come close to the brink, close to deaths door. He'd thought he was a goner in the woods, on the mountain, but that was nothing in comparison to those tense hours, laying alone and praying Alex had left. Jimmy didn't know if it was normal to feel shame, but he did. He felt shame, but moreover he felt weak. His legs felt like sticks. He wobbled and this time fell, clutching his gut.

This was it! That was the big time! This is when it counts and what did I do? What have I always done? Nothing! I fucked it up! I fucked it up, and it's all fucked and I got nothing! I got NOTHING! I'M GOING TO DIE!

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Jimmy screamed. Jimmy cried. Jimmy wailed and shouted until his throat was raw. God didn't answer. Jimmy Brennan was alone. Jimmy Brennan was weak, and Jimmy Brennan was scared. And there was nothing he could do.

A half hour later, Jimmy picked up his bag and began to walk.


[[Jimmy Brennan continues in Final Third Foul ]]