Survival Of The Fittest

((GMing approved))

Virgil scowled as Mara pointed the gun at him. In that moment, his heart race accelerated. He could feel each pulse pound against his chest, his heart wanting to burst forth. He couldn't let this happen. He had a mission, a reason to be there. A reason to live, even if just for a short while longer. He couldn't let Mara go.

Virgil ground his teeth together. He needed an opening. He slowed his breathing, trying to stay calm. He couldn't jump early.

Then Mara gave him a chance.

Virgil bent his knees as she grabbed James. He inched forward as she grabbed the board game. A bit closer as she unloaded a spray of bullets into it.

There was no way she could move that gun fast enough now.

Right as the spray ended, he leapt forward. The girl was tiny, and even with the time so far, Virgil was still brutally fast.

Drop weight.

Head behind hip.

Take out the knee.

Got her.

The force of the tackle propelled the two of them back several feet as Mara hit the ground with a thud. Virgil landed on top of her.

Maynard stood agape as Mara bluntly stated that he didn't't know anything about her or about the world, his initial disgruntlement at her remark quickly making way for the realisation of just how right she was. He didn't't really know all that much about anything; he didn't't know why he was still alive when so many better people had died, why he felt so alone, or even who he was anymore. As everything, every revelation, every regret, every excuse, ran its way through him, Maynard began to feel tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurring once more as the others spoke. He couldn't't muster up the will to wipe them away, instead allowing them to trail down his cheeks and onto his dirtied collar.

For a moment everything seemed to slow down, like some warped video tape, before suddenly speeding up as Maynard began to process the scene unfolding before him. Virgil was straddling Mara, having knocked her to the ground almost immediately after she'd opened fire upon James's box - the gunshots forcing a sharp shriek from the depths of Maynard's throat.

Natali and Adam were gone, and there was nobody else left. All of his friends; Daniel, Michelle, Gwen... they'd been taken too. Maynard needed someone, someone to whom he could be of help, and could give him those few things he wanted more than anything; comfort and protection and some degree of purpose. As time had progressed, he was beginning to care less and less who it was. If they could give him those things, could help him avoid feeling so useless and disgusting, then he'd leap to their side in an instant.

And both Mara and Virgil could give him those things in abundance.

He found himself rooted to the spot, indecision tethering him to the ground between James and Virgil and Mara's struggling forms.

He didn't't want anybody else to die, didn't't want someone as kind and good-natured as Virgil to drop to the levels that he'd done. And he didn't't want to lose Mara, the only person who could possibly understand and share what he was feeling and had gone through - even if it was by a minuscule amount. He was caught between which of them to help, and what he wanted more than anything was for someone to make the decision for him; to take the weight off his shoulders and allow him to take the backseat and do what he was good at. Just like he'd done with Adam, time and time again.

He made up his mind in the briefest of moments, and before he had the chance to consider whether his decision was right or not, the words were already spilling from his mouth.

""Virgil, Virgil!"" He cried, voice audibly cracking as his grip tightened around his blade and he looked towards James, panic visibly etched upon his features. ""Please, stop it!""

Everything had happened so fast.

One moment he'd just been trying to help calm Mara down, the next she'd grabbed him and shot the box to pieces. He'd simply froze up the moment she took a step towards him and dropped his bag. Mara could've killed him and he wouldn't have even reacted fast enough. Luckily, Virgil had jumped in before things got any worse and tackled her. Taking slow, deep breaths, James eased up slightly and glanced down to inspect the damage.

Yep, she's killed my box.

James' useless weapon had hardly been the most useful of items on the island, barring their game on the first night, but seeing the tattered remains of the object he'd dragged round with him all week like a lucky charm saddened him. Kneeling down, he lifted what remained of the lid off and scooped out the plastic playing pieces - luckily unbroken - before pocketing them. Standing up again, James wasn't sure what he wanted to do. On one hand, every instinct he had wanted him to run away in case Mara got free and started shooting again, but on the other he didn't want to end up alone. Maynard spoke up before he could make up his mind, causing another problem. James turned to face him.

"She could've killed me there, Maynard!"

This wasn't just to shut him up. James was seriously pissed off. Attack me, will you? Shoot MY box, will you? He had half a mind to jump in and help Virgil out with a few well-placed kicks, but he appeared to have her pinned for now. James moved between Maynard and the struggling pair, pointing to the Clue box Mara had shot to pieces.

"What if she'd just shot me instead of the box? Look, I don't know why you're so keen to defend her, but she's dangerous." He sighed. "We're probably not going to hurt her, just make sure that she's not gonna harm us the moment we let her go. Please don't do anything rash."

In truth, James had no idea what they were going to do. For all he knew Virgil was going to kill her right here. Hopefully he would. He'd abandoned all pretences of trying to be Mara's friend after she'd grabbed him, and if James had any sympathy for her before, it was gone now. He glanced back towards her and Virgil, and straightened his glasses. Now, if I can just get my hands on her gun...

It happened both suddenly and slowly. She announced she was leaving and then for some reason another meathead tackled her to the ground. Maybe this was a lesson, maybe she should have shot him when she had the chance.

They landed on a heap on the ground, him on top of her, and there was much more of him than there was of her. Instinctively she started thrashing with as much strength as she had, kicking and punching whatever she could find.

Then deja vu set in. She felt around beside her. The gun had scattered too far away, but just like last time there was something else available.

The entire thing was very reminiscent of her fight with Mike. Like before she was just trying to leave and just like before a huge, much stronger boy had stopped her via throwing her to the ground. Last time she was dazed upon hitting the hardwood. She panicked, felt around and found a broken shard of snow globe glass and in a panic, she stabbed him, screaming for everything to stop.

Just a few days made such a change in the exact same situation. Again, there was something to aid her. At her side Mara found a rock and without hesitation she grabbed it and smashed it against Virgil's head. She wasn't panicked or scared now. Mara knew she could get out this time, just as she had before. She didn't scream. Mara struck him a second time and he reeled back enough for her to roll out from under him towards her gun, grab it, and push herself up into a crouched position in one fluid motion. She'd been dimly aware of the other two chattering during the altercation, but didn't know what they'd said.

"Crazy asshole," she whispered harshly, looking at Virgil for a second. She chucked the rock back towards him before grabbing her bag and sprinting off.


((Amaranta Montalvo continued in A Human Work))

Virgil heard Maynard telling him to stop, and he didn't care. Mara was going to kill again. She was going to reset the timer, over and over. She needed to be stopped.

She wasn't flailing, though. Why wasn't she flailing?

The rock smashing into the side of his head answered that question. Virgil tried to hold his grip. The rock came in a second time. Virgil lost his focus. He only snapped back in when he felt the rock hit his shoulder.

She was running.

No.

She wasn't getting away.

Virgil got up and ran back to his gun and quickly fired a few shots her way. The flew by her, not even close to their mark. Virgil finished off the magazine before he stopped firing.

"God dammit."

He chased after her.

((Virgil Jefferson-Davis continued in Lonesome))

Maynard stood stock still as Mara fled with Virgil quick on her heels, the words of protest he tried to offer the departing duo hitching in his throat and evacuating it as nothing more than a stammered murmur. He couldn't't blame Mara for leaving after what'd happened, as much as he wanted her stay. As much as he wanted her ability to understand him in a way few others could, he didn't't want to force her to remain with him, didn't't want to stoop to that level of desperation.

But some part of him knew that it was only a matter of time until he did.

His friends were dwindling day by day, and throughout all of the loss of better and more deserving people than himself he was still clinging on, still surviving despite the odds innumerably stacked against him. And he knew exactly why. It was because of other people; other people who were smarter and stronger than himself and were so kind that they'd protected him and allowed him to stay with them even when he'd had nothing to offer in return. And they were all gone now, every single one. Day after day, they'd dropped around him, with no opportunity to let him grieve or adjust to their lost, only fueling his need for the others and their company even more and giving him all the more reason to hide behind everybody he could.

And then, in the heat of the moment, he'd taken out the only person left. Adam, who'd stayed by his side and protected him with no cause to besides the goodness of his heart, and Maynard had ruined everything, forced himself to face this island by himself. It was all his fault; there was no way around it, no way of rationalising his actions or blaming anybody else, not now, not when he'd been given the time to reflect upon what'd happened.

The thought alone was enough to make him want to scream, as the weight of the world and his actions bore themselves down upon him.

He was scared, and he was going to die, and when the announcement blared across the island the next day, everybody would hate him. And above all else, he was alone.

But he wasn't't, was he? There was still James, whom he'd borderline ignored in favour of two people who'd seemed more useful to him; James, who was like him in so many ways; James, who was his very last chance at an ally before the announcement stole any hope of his friends looking at him the same way again; James, the only person who hadn't't left him.

""James,"" he said, voice barely above a whisper and tears dancing on his vision as he pivoted on his heel to face the boy. ""James, please stay with me. Please.""

As he watched Mara and Virgil leave, James was tempted to follow them. He took a step forward before halting to consider his options. Since both of them were armed and dangerous, he'd have little chance in a fight, and had no intention of getting caught in a potential gunfight with no weapons.

Which left him with Maynard.

James turned to face him as he asked him not to leave. He wondered if that was because he was worried of being left alone, or because he thought that James wanted to kill Mara. While he certainly didn't want to let her go after she almost killed him, Maynard's request seemed genuinely sincere, verging on begging him to stay. Having spent some time alone on this island, James knew how bad it was to be separated from everyone while killers looked for easy prey. He sighed, and spoke.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I don't think I'd be much use in a fight anyway."

Well, aside from my old boxing training, but he doesn't need to know about that. Perhaps staying with someone was a good idea at this point. Maynard seemed like a good guy in spite of his vocal defence of Mara earlier, and if he'd wanted to kill James then he could easily have done so. Besides, he had few chances of finding Veronica in this mess, and could only hope that his old ally was still alive. James knew that his odds of survival weren't good at this point; No weapon (not that his box was ever much of a threat), no good friends and the very distinct possibility that he was a bit of a coward. All that plotting and planning about stealing weapons and killing everyone sounded good in his head, but in reality he'd just stood there and almost gotten himself shot.

To him, getting an ally meant protection, someone to talk to, and with any luck, an opportunity to get off this damn island alive. James gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he prepared t leave, kicking the remains of his Clue box aside. First things first. Need to get the hell out of here in case Mara or someone else comes after us.

"Well, I guess there's no point sticking around here any longer," he said, glancing around the bridge. "Got any ideas on where to go?"

The smallest of smiles wormed its way across Maynard's features as James said he'd stay with him, the doubts and worries he'd had about being alone once again dissipating almost immediately. There was the fact that the latest announcement would likely shatter any alliance they might forge into a million tiny pieces, but for the next few hours at least, he'd have company and somebody by his side and wouldn't't have to worry about what might come after until morning.

""Thank you," he said, stepping forward to close the distance between them and pull James into a half-hug. It wasn't't something he was used to doing; it wasn't't like he was against physical affection, just that he'd always been much too shy and self-conscious to even attempt something like that back in Seattle. But here such worries seemed so insignificant, now. There were so many other things he had to focus on that hugging someone was as easy as breathing. He released the other boy, smile still fixed on his face, and stepped backwards before continuing. ""Thank you so much, James. And as for where to go? I really don't know; I'll let you lead the way, yeah?""

He retrieved his dufflebag from where he'd dropped it and slung it over his shoulder, noting how much lighter it'd become as the days had progressed and his supplies had slowly dwindled away. He'd never paid much attention to the rations they'd been given; he'd only eaten whenever Adam had, and even then it'd been the smallest of portions - just in case Adam needed some extra food to keep his strength up. The last proper meal he'd had was back in the hospital, during what seemed like a lifetime ago, and before that it'd been breakfast with his mum and dad on the day of the trip. They'd made waffles especially, with all sorts of toppings and garnishes to go alongside them. That little memory, spurred out by the mere weight of his bag, was enough to vanquish any happiness James's decision to stick with him had given him and cause his smile to return to its usual half-frown.

He missed his family, and he missed his friends and everybody that'd been stolen away from him over the past week. It wasn't't something he'd had much time to consider when he'd been with Adam, whom had continued to drive them onwards no matter what happened, before he could get too introspective or wallow in his own grief. He'd become much too accustomed to that sort of routine, and when he'd ripped it away from himself it was proving all too difficult to deal with.

So, as Maynard left the overpass with James by his side, he vowed he'd return to what he'd done with Adam, return to the only thing that'd worked for him here. And this time he wouldn't't let himself or anybody else take it away from him.

((Maynard Hurst continued in Sinner, Winner, Chicken Dinner))

For the first time in a while, James felt fairly happy with his situation. Sure, he'd come close to death a few times on the island, but he felt that as long as he had someone with him he'd be okay. He'd frozen up again when Maynard hugged him, wary of any physical contact after a week on an island of killers. His new companion seemed a lot more friendly than his old one, it seemed. It wasn't a bad thing, but it surprised him.

Just need to keep myself alive. James had been reminding himself of that since day one; a selfish but pragmatic approach, he supposed. Now though, he was feeling a little more optimistic. Perhaps he'd been wrong. No. Need to keep us alive. After Maynard told him to lead the way, James turned to leave the bridge. It was very light now, and the lack of his familiar Clue box was strange. He still had the playing pieces in his pocket, at least. Perhaps it was time to do away with all this planning and simply keep going in the vague hope that he'd win. In the back of his mind, James did wonder what would happen if only he and Maynard were still alive after a few days. While unlikely, he didn't want to imagine what would happen in that scenario. He'd have to keep his mind in the now.

Taking one last look back over the bridge, James walked away alongside Maynard. He'd just have to keep hoping that things would turn out okay.

((James Wade continued in What Comes After))