Survival Of The Fittest

"Sarah? Sarah! Can you hear me?"

Sarah staggered back trying to balance herself as a fierce ringing in her ears drowned out all other sounds. She had been leaning in quite close to Brock when the rifle went off and the volume of the shot had potentially deafened her. Unable to properly find her balance she slipped and landed, clutching her ears as the ringing began to fade.

"What?" She yelled, unaware of the volume of her voice. There was still a faint high pitched tone resonating through her skull but now she could at least make out (albeit a muffled version of) Alice's voice asking her if she was alright. After a moment's respite Sarah brought herself to her feet and stumbled over to Brock's body, gazing at the damage. Most of the force had ejected what was left of Brock's head straight away from the body meaning that very little of the gore had hit Sarah when Brock had become trigger happy. She still wasn't sure if he had done it on purpose or not and the faint tone in her ears wasn't helping much. Staring down at the body she turned to Alice with a sad smile on her face. "Well, that was disappointing. I thought he would of had so much to say before he gave in." In truth Sarah was a little disappointed, she was looking to have to convince Brock to finish himself off but he had simply spat in her face with words and pulled the trigger from her view. At least on the plus side she had avoided being announced for another kill, because that wouldn't do at all. Walking a way aways she yelled out "and end scene! Nice work Alice. Didn't turn out exactly how I had planned but you've got to work with what you've got right? Lets start to get this packed up."

Alice was turning in to a reliable assistant and Sarah almost felt a pang of guilt when she thought about having to fire her later on, still the show must go on. It didn't take too long to pack down the equipment and Sarah was just about to leave when she noticed the glint of sunlight from something at Brock's hip. Moving over to the body once more she leaned down and pulled the pistol from his belt. Why hadn't she spotted this before? Standing up and looking at Alice in disgust Sarah dangled the gun in front of her clutching it with her thump and forefinger in disdain. "Here, take this. Guns are so 2007, you would think people would of been over then by now."

Having passed the weapon off to her unwilling accomplice she took a glance around and then paused. Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly as she saw two shadows on the crest of the mine. They were far away and she couldn't be certain they weren't just smaller trees that were hanging off the edge but she really didn't want to take that risk. She hissed to Alice as they made their way closer towards the figures, still a fair distance away. "Alice, are they the stunt team I requested - I can't make them out at this distance? If they are we might have to convince them to jump."

BANG

And Alice screamed.

Death, so close.

I never - 'till just now, decided to do the right thing, even if it was dumb, just cause it was the right thing.

Brock Mason. B060. Eliminated.

And there was blood, so much blood, all from his head, so much blood. A the monster gun wasn't a gentle way to go.

The lens was shaking.

Nothing is more important about the quantum principle than this, that it destroys the concept of the world as 'sitting out there' with the observer safely separated by a twenty centimeter slab of plate glass. Even to observe so minuscule an object as an electron, we must shatter the glass.

She let go of the camera, and ran down to Brock. To Sarah.

Sarah was staggering backwards. Clutching her ears, she fell to the ground. So helpless. And Alice stumbled to her, good assistant as always.

"Sarah! Sarah! Can you hear me?"

Small Sarah, on the ground. She should be using this moment to murder her. But all Alice could think was that she didn't want Sarah to die, she didn't want more violence to happen today, she wanted everything to be alright, and everyone to be sane and safe. And doing what they were supposed to do.

Maybe if she got Sarah up, she'd come to her senses. And then what for Alice?

I don't want anyone else to die today!

"Sarah Atwell! Are you alright?"

Maybe her last name would get her a little more conscious.

And Sarah got a little more light in her eyes, and turned to Alice. "Well, that was disappointing. I thought he would of had so much to say before he gave in."

What? How could you not realize what that was? Are you still insane? Do you still not know this is real?

She was staring at Brock again, close up now. Forced herself to avert her eyes. Sarah couldn't see her like this. Useless.

Slack muscles strained against the tape. Look away from the face. Don't look.

Sarah stood and walked back purposefully, and Alice remembered the camera, still running. She pushed her eyes away from Brock and with some effort, stumbled back to the rocky ledge where the camera was. She clicked it off just before Sarah shouted "and end scene! Nice work Alice. Didn't turn out exactly how I had planned but you've got to work with what you've got, right? Lets start to get this packed up."

And Alice returned to the shoot site numbly, picking up 'props' and 'equipment'. Bundling them away. Trying not to look at her feet. Reliable assistant.

Very reliable assistant. Because she noticed the pistol a second before Sarah did, and stood for a moment, staring at it. A gun. It was her ticket out of here. At least if Sarah didn't see it first.

But then Sarah saw it. And pulled it out, picked it up, casually, held it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Here, take this. Guns are so 2007, you would think people would of been over then by now."

And she dropped it into Alice's hands.

Alice stared.

I could kill you with this.

Was it loaded? She couldn't tell. This came with an instruction manual, didn't it? She scrabbled at Brock's feet. Where was it? Were there clips?

Sarah had turned again. And Alice didn't want to kill her. Why didn't she want to kill her? Brock was dead, Sarah was insane, they were going to die. The director-girl was cracked. She had lost control. Alice had had to crush Brock's skull with a rock. This was the center of insanity. They were going to die.

But being with Sarah was comforting. The girl thought she was immortal. And somehow it made Alice feel immortal too.

But Brock. Brock was dead at her feet. Shouldn't she get revenge? Shouldn't she kill the serial killer?

Alice looked at the gun.

This island will turn us all into killers eventually. What does it matter if he was killed by us or someone else? We're all going to die.

Besides, she didn't know if the gun was loaded.

Sarah was looking into the distance, at some people Alice couldn't see. Hissing. "Alice, are they the stunt team I requested - I can't make them out at this distance? If they are we might have to convince them to jump." Yeah. The emphasis was on the last word.

Alice stumbled. Reached into her bag, found (thankfully, atop her clothes), her digital camera. She had planned to tell Sarah about this later. It recorded video. Sarah's camera would run out soon.

Now, she used the lens to zoom in onto the figures atop the cliff. Breathe in. Breathe out. They were two people Alice hardly knew. Alan Rickhall and Jimmy Robertson.

"N-no. I think they're just dumb kids who've wandered onto set. I'll tell them to piss off, if you're okay with that."

This better work.

Because I don't want to think about the fact that I'm working for a killer anymore.

Brock's body was cold. The clips were by his leg. She picked them up.

Alan leaned against the outside wall of the mine, to the left of the cave entrance (Right if you happened to be leaving the cave) and began to breath in and out deeply. They were in some hot soup, and it was going to be blood soup for Alan and Jimmy if they didn't think of something fast.

"Alan. Stay here. I'm going to check it out. If I'm not back here in seven minutes, get out of here. If anyone attacks, yell."

What on Earth was Jimmy thinking? Couldn't he take Alan's word for it. Unless he had other plans in mind for them. Alan knew that if his movement was to actually take off they would have to smite the 'turned', but Alan and Jimmy were only two people, sure Jimmy had a giant knife-like thing but these two girls managed to tape Brock to a wall, and even with Alan's limited knowledge of revolution, those were the sort of people you avoid taking out until your holy army is at least in double figures. But Alan heard nothing echoing out of the tunnel, but then again it was an awfully long tunnel, who knows how far the sound of a gunshot can travel, and then they'd be after him! Well, perhaps not actually after him significantly but Alan would be alone, for anyone to pick off. He fumbled around in his pocket for his famous photograph and held it to his forehead as he shed a tear.

"Oh Zoey." He whispered to himself quietly "what are they doing to us. I want to do good. But in a world where all you can do is kill everyone else..."

Alan stopped at the sound of footsteps coming out of the cave; fast and frantic footsteps. It could be Jimmy, but then it could be a bloodthirsty 'turned' creature. Alan was not in view of the cave mouth so he was hidden until he could get a good look at them. Jimmy ran out, horrified. Alan ran up to him upon seeing him.

"We need to get out of here. Sarah Atwell's down there. She's killed Brock and if she sees us, we're next."

Sarah Atwell? Alan was awful at memorising name of anyone he considered of acquaintance status or lower, but something about that name just made Alan's brain start panicking. Or perhaps it was because Jimmy had that 'envisioning a bullet in his skull' look on his face. Either way, Alan led him to the side where he waited before.

"Ok, let's not panic, we knew that this time would come, we've just got to keep our heads and figure out what to do." Alan whispered to Jimmy, it was at that point that he realised he was still holding the photograph of himself and Zoey. He tried to subtly put it back into his pocket. "We're living in a nightmare, a nightmare that we won't wake up from any time soon. But I don't blame the 'turned' for what they do, no no no no no. It's Mr. Danya who's made them this way and once he's got someone under his murderous thumb, there's very little turning back I'm sure, they are no longer human. I want to save them all; but who am I saving them from. The 'Turned'? Themselves? Danya? You saw what they did to Brock. What human would do that to another human being? It's impossible to conceive such a fact, so the only logical conclusion is that the creatures in that cave are no longer human."

It suddenly occurred to Alan that one of the girls could be leaving the cave at any moment. He turned and watched the clearing just before the cave silently, trembling all over to see if any figures emerge.

She's going to kill us if we don't get out of here. We have to fight back. Jimmy was horrified. Not only at the fact that he was in danger, but that it was happening. He was starting to think of violence as a possible solution. As Alan started talking, Jimmy started wondering just how he and Alan were coping:

"Ok, let's not panic, we knew that this time would come, we've just got to keep our heads and figure out what to do. We're living in a nightmare, a nightmare that we won't wake up from any time soon. But I don't blame the 'turned' for what they do, no no no no no. It's Mr. Danya who's made them this way and once he's got someone under his murderous thumb, there's very little turning back I'm sure, they are no longer human. I want to save them all; but who am I saving them from. The 'Turned'? Themselves? Danya? You saw what they did to Brock. What human would do that to another human being? It's impossible to conceive such a fact, so the only logical conclusion is that the creatures in that cave are no longer human." The "Turned?" Was Alan going into zombie flick mode or something? Because the idea that the people who had broken down were no longer human was quite a long shot to him.

"Alan. I don't know who we're saving, or what we're saving them from. But if we don't get out of here now, whoever is down there is probably going to get us." (Of course, due to Jimmy's position, he didn't notice Alice Boucher, who was allied with Sarah only reluctantly, who, like Jimmy and Alan, simply wanted to survive, and was the one going to deal with the situation, allowing for some limited cooperation) Basicially, in their own ways, Jimmy and Alan were both going crazy as well. The worst part? Jimmy knew it. This is NOT good.

((Hilary Strand continued from instinct•algorithm))

The mine.

A place she hadn't been to before; a place she seemed afraid of.

Tangled and knotted, her hair lashed out behind her head, whipping back at the cold morning breeze as it blew harshly at her face.

"No." Her hair would say, as it stood up to the wind.

"You cannot have this girl - not yet. Not now."

It would raise its voice defiantly, making sure the air could hear its every word.

"This girl belongs to our world, not yours. Cast yourselves back into the under, and leave us to her attendance."

It would stare the beast down, before bowing its head.

"We will not falter."

It would speak gently.

"We will guide her."

----

Hilary trembled as she walked across the clearing. There was no cover here, especially now that the sun had grown tall in the sky. It left her exposed and defenceless, making sure everyone around could see her stumble over the tiniest of rocks and shriek at the most curious of animals. She hated not only the terrorists, but the island itself, and all its creatures. Everything she touched wanted to kill her - or so she thought, and this became a bigger problem still when she reminded herself of what her "weapon" was. Yes, the young girl had been thrown into the deadliest game imaginable, and what was her protection? What was meant to aid her in times of great distress or fast-approaching danger?

...It didn't matter.

The second she'd seen it was the very same second she'd launched it far off into the distance.

Who did they think they were, these...

"They're collars, designed to force us to fight,"

That's right. Harold had told her about these people, albeit briefly.

She stopped walking.



He was dead now.



And as she lingered on this thought, so winding as it was, she felt a familiar sensation overwhelm her, sending shivers through her body. Her throat felt tight, constricted, just like it used to feel back home, before Bayview. She was always crying. She'd dry the tears before her parents could see them, but there was a deep loneliness inside of her which was so much harder to wipe away. The other girls would be relentless in their attacks - both verbal and otherwise - and slowly, with each passing day, it wore her down. There was nothing left of the little girl she used to be, though her behaviour might elicit the same response of empathy from those around her, and over the years of stress she had put her body through she had somehow grown into the shell of a woman. A husk whose fake smiles and dizzy optimism became a shroud in which to hide beneath should anyone try to get too close.

Only... someone had gotten close.

As much as she tried to fight it, to make herself seem like this happy-go-lucky girl she had created, she'd slipped and let someone in. And once a person has seen inside the shroud, there's no going back, is there? They witnessed the very worst of her youth, and saw every scar she'd gained over the many years she'd battled herself instead of those who would harm her. She thought every fight had been started by an action of her own, or something she had said, or perhaps the way she looked. No, it was always the way she looked. She'd never been good enough for those girls, not once. Not when she stole money from her mother's purse to buy the same brand of jeans, not when she dyed her hair bright pink to fit in with their experimental phases, not even when she decided to ignore them all and try to find herself. She was never good enough for anyone.

Even when she found a group of friends; even when she found a best friend; even when she found herself a boyfriend... she still felt like she didn't deserve it, that she didn't belong. So she followed Leila blindly, took all of her abuse, and tried her best to take an interest in Violet's fanatical views, and once she found a guy she actually liked, they were all cut away from her. By those men, by the island. It took what little she had going for her, what little she had at all, and it hid them out of sight so she was lonely once again. She felt a warm tear slide down the dirt on her cheek, and she let it hang on the bottom of her chin until it fell onto the grass below her feet.

Hilary Strand watched on from above as two girls murdered the only boy she'd ever loved. She saw the blood and the gore, but the gunshot only startled her; nothing more. The second he pulled the trigger was the second her heart stopped beating. She listened as they mocked his death, and left them to pillage his corpse in peace, because although her heart had always been cracked, and splintered...



Now...?





It lay in pieces.

((Mia Kuiper continued from Don't Go Breaking My Heart...))


Mia's ankle was feeling a lot better, she had let it rest for a little while before bandaging it up, just to keep it a bit steadier. She didn't want to turn tripping and falling on her face into a habit. That would have been most unpleasant.

And now, the mansion a long way behind her, she was skirting the edge of a sizeable open-cut mine. The bushes had pioneered the slopes, but there was still plenty of open ground around the edges. Beyond, the mountains slowly began to rise, and she could glimpse some buildings closer to it's base on the other side that might have been worth taking a look at; though she didn't expect to come across another really comfortable abode until she made it to the ranger's station. There she'd find comfort, relaxation, and hopefully just enough altitude to avoid all the lazier, ground-dwelling students.

But first she had to get around this glorified hole in the ground. The crest of the cracked earth ahead blocked any sight of the end, but the other side seemed to be tapering towards her, and the aforementioned buildings seemed a good sign that she could finally change direction soon. She looked down into the pit, wondering if it might be worth checking out some of the disused machinery. She didn't have any particular reason in mind, it'd really just be to satisfy her curiosity.

Her attention snapped forward again as she stumbled over a crack. She looked up from her her slightly undignified recovery to see something she hadn't been expecting.

"Oh..."

The mine was laid out in front of her, the end wasn't too far away, buildings and foliage littered the mountain's base, long disused tunnels pocking its surface. The ground finally sloped down into each of the layered cuts in the pit beside her and at the lip of one of these was what the useful part of her mind was concentrating on.

People.

Well It mightn't be that bad. They might be friendly, or better, self-absorbed and un-

CRACK.

Oh SHIT.

She hit the ground nearly as quickly as she thought. Maybe faster. She didn't have time to wonder whether they were shooting at her but someone was shooting at somebody and she wasn't going to stand out in the open just to be sure it was her. Grabbing the hem of her skirt she sped behind the nearest bush, tried to keep a low profile, sat heavily, trying to squish herself into the foliage, and began hyperventilating.

And waiting.

And hyperventilating some more.

Another gunshot failed to materialise, and so she ventured to take a peep at the scene she'd turned her back to, breaths still heavy in her chest. There were two girls down there, and what looked like a boy lying on the ground, deathly still. She didn't like the splash of red which seemed to fan around him, but at least it answered one of her fears.

The two that remained seemed to be looking up at the mine entrances, at the distance those were at, she had no chance of delineating whatever they were considering. A twist of one of their heads sent her skittishly hiding behind the denser part of the foliage. She needed to collect her thoughts, and her heartbeat, both racing several hundred miles an hour, and think.

Okay okay okay, just, stay. Staying put is pleasant. Yes. Wait, see what happens, then do some thing or another.

And if they decide to come this way?

She looked down at the wrought iron poker in her hands, her only weapon besides the plunger she'd felt compelled to leave in her bag.

Yeah, no. That's not going to work.


((Note, when opportunity rises, Mia can outrun island bears, knows no fear, does not bleed, and can wax Shakespearean at you from a distance of up to 40 metres. She also called dibs on that rifle. Don't say I didn't warn you!))

((Leila Langford continued from Carpe Noctum))

She could see the light now, thank God. After wandering around, lost and confused in the dark, twisting corridors below the island, she'd finally made her way out. Half of her wanted to sing at the sight of the sun - blinding as it was, forcing her to turn back into the cave until her vision cleared - while the other stayed far more rational.

You can't sing out here, dumbass, you'll get fucking shot.

Leering out into the wilderness, she wondered where she was. From the looks of the entrance, and the tracks on the ground, she figured out that she'd ended up at some sort of a mine. Fuck if she knew exactly, she'd lost her map on the very first day. Fucking aces. Ah well, at least she had a comfort. The gun - an FP-45 Liberator, as if it mattered - may have been small, and to be honest, really shitty, but it was a vast improvement on the rope she had coiled up in her daypack. What a joke. A rope? Really? She still couldn't believe her luck. But at least now she had an advantage - a real weapon. If someone tried to mess with her, she'd make sure the little piece-of-shit-gun would give them something to laugh at before she shot their brains out.

Scoping the area while taking crouched, slow, shuffles outside, the valley in front of her became much easier to see - and so did the people occupying it. Including...

"Brock?"

Her hands clamped themselves over her mouth. Stupid bitch, she knew better than to make any noise. Especially when his killers were standing right next to him, too, oh this was fucking great. Sarah Atwell, from the announcements. She'd won that gun by getting the best kill so far, or something like that. Whatever, she was dangerous, which gave her all the reason she needed to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible. A glance back at the blood around the body. If Hilary saw this... fuck, she needed to make sure that never happened.

Of course, unbeknownst to Leila, it was far too late for that, and as soon she turned her head a little more to the right she realized how quickly the situation was about to turn to shit. Hilary stood, motionless, on the top of the bank, watching the girls pilfer the poor bastard's belongings. It was too late for reassuring words now, she'd seen everything. Her face showed it all - all the horror and the hurt she must've been feeling. She knew she'd never understand what her friend was going through, but right now that wasn't important. If they didn't get out of there soon, the girls would spot them, and even though she loved the idea of taking down that psychotic bitch, this really wasn't the time. And she really didn't have the right weapon to take on someone with a sniper rifle. That much she knew about guns.

Counting down in her head, she hoisted the daypack up on her shoulders and tightened the straps to prevent them from falling. A deep breath, and a silent prayer to whoever would listen, then she ran.

"Hilary!"

She snapped awake, looking up at Leila like she didn't even know her.

"Hilary, fucking run! Now!"

But she didn't need telling twice.

Grabbing hold of Hilary's hand, the two of them bolted into the trees.

((Leila Langford and Hilary Strand continued in From White To Grey))

Sarah stopped in her tracks as Alice stuttered out her intentions to simply scare the kids away.

"I guess you're right. I'd rather not have anyone spoil the movie before it's released. With the internet and the twitter these days word spreads fast. You make sure they stop nosing around. I'm just going to grab that.."

Sarah trailed off mid sentence as she stood staring up the mountain. A slight chill ran through her body and everything seemed to go deathly silent just for a moment as she caught a glimpse of movement along the side of the lone peak. Her head tilted slightly, her face contorted in an expression of confusion and recognition.

"Chris?"

Sarah began to walk back to the sniper rifle but didn't pause to pick it back up, instead she broke in to a sprint towards the figure moving up the mountain and soon the mine was left far behind her.

((Sarah Atwell continued in A Moment Remembered))

More people had appeared on the hill. Calling, crying, slipping, falling oh no, oh no, I don't want to kill them all!

Cock the gun. Shoot her. Cock the gun. You can do it. She won't even notice.

And then Sarah said something surprising, and merciful. "I guess you're right. I'd rather not have anyone spoil the movie before it's released. With the internet and the twitter these days word spreads fast. You make sure they stop nosing around. I'm just going to grab that.."

Something caught Sarah's eye, and she trailed off. Alice tensed. But suddenly Sarah was not going back to grab the sniper rifle anymore. She was running, running, running running toward (as far as Alice could see) a blurry figure on the mountain. And Alice Boucher, helplessly, began to trot after her.

(Alice Boucher continued in A Moment Remembered)

"Alan. I don't know who we're saving, or what we're saving them from. But if we don't get out of here now, whoever is down there is probably going to get us."

Alan didn't want to let anyone else get killed, but at the same time he'd have to protect himself and Jimmy in the process. But he didn't know what to do. Leaving the beings in the cave to continue their rampage seemed so cowardly, and who knows how many potential members they could kill in the process. Alan had to do something. But in all honesty Jimmy was right; without proper means of defence, they wouldn't get too far. Poor Brock, he could've been such value to the movement, but his corpse certainly wasn't going to be of any help whatsoever.

Alan didn't want to stand by while some inhuman crazies killed off everyone else. But then, Alan was weak, what could he do? He would be wiped out in a second like this, he needed to find someone with firepower who agreed with Alan's humble vision, but he didn't know where he was going to find it.

Alan relented and hung his head in shame. "You're right Jimmy, I'm sorry. Please, get me away from this horrible place before I do something stupid."

If she looked, then they might see her, but then she could run away. If they'd already seen her, and were coming, but she didn't look, she was dead...


She had to take another peek.


It's been a while, but dear god thank you so very, very, very much.


They were moving away from her at speed, she was safe, they'd be gone any minute and she could veer off a little and avoid them altogether once she passed the massive hole in the ground. Maybe look at the buildings. She had a feeling they wouldn't be back.


She began to make her way across the slope again, this time with a little bit more speed, paying a little bit more attention, occasionally looking ahead and behind in fleeting moments of doubt. Before she knew it she was on truly flat, trampled ground again, feet away from a very dead body.


Whoever it had been seemed to have lost their head.


You did not just contemplate that pun, you did not just contemplate that pun.


She approached, morbid curiosity overtaking any squeemishness she'd felt on first taking note of the condition of the corpse. Soon she was standing over it, taking the time to just stare. The head was completely indistinguishable, and somehow, strangely, that made it a little easier to deal with.

She searched her memory, the boy had been well built, probably sportlich, so some kind of Jock seemed like a possibility. She didn't really hang around with any jocks. She didn't 'hang around' with anyone much, actually, but that was besides the point. The only name that really came to mind was Aaron Hicks and even then she didn't really know him...

Alas, poor dead guy, I didn't know you well.

Whoever it was, they'd been bound with gaffer tape, their hands attached to the trigger of their own demise. Which was a beautiful, if bloodspattered, rifle.

Beautiful might not have been the word. Exciting? Surprising? Morbidly exhilarated? She was all of those things. She tried to keep a dour expression, but she found herself grinning a little maniacally. The last little thank you prayer still in her mind she made the sign of the cross, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands together and actually half-meant it for once.

"Thankyou~"

Like a well-dressed vulture she descended on the gaffer tape, tearing strips from it and generally desecrating the boy's last resting site in an all-too-knowingly Hamletty way. Finally she removed it, looked for and failed to find any ammunition. Mentally kicked herself momentarily, realised that there was still a magazine attached, and threw it over her shoulder.

With one last look around, she set off north-west, away from the minesite, whistling the William Tell Overture as earnestly as an 8 year old.

((Mia Kuiper Continued in Facile Princeps))

((Post order breaking with permission from Decoy73))
((Post adjusted to comply with Geno's post edit))

Alan was just about ready to leave when suddenly he heard a strange sound. It was whistling and it was coming from just inside the cave. The tune sounded familiar, it was something he had heard before. It was from an opera of some description, Alan started mentally leafing through a list of operas that he had been to with his parents. It was one that he had seen in England.

"Jimmy do you hear that? It's whistling." Alan was suddenly entranced slightly by the whistling. "Do you recognise it, it sounds familiar. I think it's the..." The answer Alan was looking for finally dawned on him. "William Tell. That's it. And that's the William Tell Overture! Of course it's a marvellous opera, it was one of the first I ever saw." By now, Alan had forgot about Survival of the Fittest and all danger and was focusing all his brainpower on the William Tell Overture.

"Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-da-dum-dum." Alan sang to himself softly, not noticing that the source of the tune had just left the cave and disappeared into the distance. "And now it stops. Such a shame, for a second... For a second I forgot about... Well everything actually." Alan hung his head in sorrow. "Anyway... We have had our first serving of the sting that this island can offer, rest assured Brock's death shall not be forgotten and the movement shall remember him as one of themselves. Granted the movement is just the two of us... But then we will remember him, right Jimmy?"

Alan had cheered up, but only slightly. "Anyway, I don't want to spend another second in this place, I say we get going, we've got a message to give to Mr. Danya, and by god we'll give it to him..." Alan wasn't actually sure if he'd get his message to Danya, but right now it was the only thing keeping him going on. That and Zoey of course; Alan wondered if she was watching him right now. Had she even noticed that he was gone?

Alan picked up his things and led the way for Jimmy to follow into the distance.

((Alan Rickhall continued in Cool Ranch.))

"You're right Jimmy, I'm sorry. Please, get me away from this horrible place before I do something stupid." Alan seemed kind of embarrassed, bringing a twinge of guilt into Jimmy's gut. He hadn't meant to shoot down Alan, he just figured that starting an sort of movement would be better when there wasn't a psycho trying to kill everyone within feet of their location. Jimmy was about to turn around when Alan spoke up again.

"Jimmy, do you hear that? It's whistling." Jimmy looked around, listening for it, and in fact, he too could faintly hear it. Somebody was whistling.

"Do you recognise it, it sounds familiar. I think it's the ... William Tell. That's it. And that's the William Tell Overture! Of course it's a marvellous opera, it was one of the first I ever saw." Jimmy listened more closely. He couldn't tell what it was, but he could hear it coming from the mines where they had just left. He didn't even care what it was that was being whistled. He was looking for other cues. Body language, emotional inflection, that sort of thing. Somebody was there. Question was: was the person a player looking for a couple easy kills, a reasonably scared student trying to calm down, or just happily crazy? He looked at Alan:

"Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-da-dum-dum." He was lost in his own little world for a second before the humminug faded away. "And now it stops. Such a shame, for a second... For a second I forgot about... Well everything actually. Anyway... We have had our first serving of the sting that this island can offer, rest assured Brock's death shall not be forgotten and the movement shall remember him as one of themselves. Granted the movement is just the two of us... But then we will remember him, right Jimmy?" Jimmy thought he saw a glint of light off in the distance, something familiar, but ... nah.

"Anyway, I don't want to spend another second in this place, I say we get going, we've got a message to give to Mr. Danya, and by god we'll give it to him..." Alan cheered up (barely) as he picked up his bags and left. Jimmy just followed behind him.

(This better be worth something) It's keeping us sane, isn't it?

((Jimmy Robertson continued in Cool Ranch))

((ALL CHARACTERS HAVE EXITED. THREAD CLOSED))