Survival Of The Fittest

No! Ah fuck! She just- I just- eyes close and- fuck! I - ... RRGH! It was you! You've done it again! Killed somebody! Pulled the trigger, sprayed off a few shots and here's another dead body! Happy? Are you fucking happy!? One step closer to the end of this game, aren't you glad that you've made it just that little bit easier to survive!? Fuck! She doesn't deserve this! Nobody deserves this!

Though inwardly, Bobby was churning with rage, on the outside, not a bead of sweat broke, not a frown crossed his features - his face was set, like stone, expression grim but unchanging. Who was there to take his anger out on? It wasn't like his anguish had been caused by some external being, or even another person, it was all him, and there was nothing physical he could do about that. Mentally, on the other hand... well, there were limits to how much you could torture yourself within your mind.

... Yes, I think that's about enough. I've done what I've done, and I can't change that. I know what crimes I've commited, as does anybody else with the sense to actually listen to an announcement now and then. There's no use moping around about my actions, it's enough that I know, and other people know. Actions speak louder than words, instead of constantly apologising, perhaps it would be better to seek absolution through what I do instead of what I say. So far, it's been an apology then a gunshot...

As Shameeca walked off to be sick, Bobby headed quietly to the brook and cleaned his hands of Petra's blood, noting that, ironically, this was the first time he had managed to get blood on his hands both literally and figuratively. It was a little unsual, Bobby had fought, and yes, killed in melee several times on the island, and this was the first time he'd ever really managed to get himself dirty.

"Make it Rob, please," Bobby told Shameeca as they both returned to stand a little way from Heath. Was he simply fooling himself by asking for her to call him by his christian name rather than his nickname? Perhaps, but Rob Jacks had less blood on him than Bobby Jacks... somehow. "Okay, so what is it yo-" there was the sound of somebody falling, and Bobby turned, for a moment dreading that Heath had gone the same way as Petra. But no... he was okay, he had just fallen.

"I guess I can try hook something up for you," Bobby had seen slings made, and indeed had been in one more than once, so had just about enough know-how to try and make one. He busied himself in his bag once again, finding suitable bandages. He paused momentarily, seeing his gun on the grass alongside him, then picked it up, put it into his pocket and refused to think on it any longer.

A arm sling? Hell, Shameeca got lucky with the needle. There wasn't no way in hell she knew how to make one of those. Clothing had never been her forte, she was always more of a cookery girl, even during her girl gand (good times in that girl gand) days, she had always never bothered with the injured. Of course, back then she was 12 and it was more of a, walk it off sista!, case than treating bleeding wounds. If she made it through this, Shameeca would sign up for a first-aid course. That would be if she made it through and the chance seemed to get smaller with each minute.

Rob eh? It sounded more grown up, smarter than Bobby. It suited him more, what with him being all... No, bad Shamee!, she thought. Don't go getting yourself a little girly crush here, especially one someone who you are thinking could be a mass murdering pyscho. No, she needed to keep it smart and simple. Loyalty was one thing, but crushing on a guy is a no, not till shes got James free and Bree back with him. But with time slipping by, she would have to skip finding Bree for saving James.

"Shameeca" was all she managed to get out before Heath fell over. It was almost an comical fall if the situation hadn't been so sad. She saw Bobby or "Rob" picking up the gun, putting it away. Leaning close, she whispered something as he rooted away in his bag. It could be a very dangerous whisper, but tact had ended with Petra's life. Shameeca didn't want to make herself misunderstood, yet she didn't want Heath to hear it, just in case he had a freak out moment and to go apeshit. No-one would want that at this time.

"So tell me Rob, did you kill her?"

Taking their sweet time, I see. His smile, while already prevalent, broadened in dark humor. I'm only dying over here. No rush, no rush.

It was weird, the waiting. It gave Heath time to think, which he guess he was grateful for. He did catch the glitter of light. A gun, Heath realized.

So what how? I'm going to be taken down like a dog? No, I can't die now... I need to avenge her death, by dammit. I need to...to kill Rob...

I can't…I cannot kill someone. I cannot get rid of seventeen-eighteen years worth of ambitions, of dreams, of laughter, of sadness. And even if I could, how can I make up those years with my own life? I have nothing to live for, no ambitions worth following through with

But what does this Rob have to live for, I wonder? Ask him that, at least.

Heath didn't. The question didn't escape his lips. And he just closed his eyes, his head rested against the tree and he kept on

Bobby didn't speak for a little while, not answering Shameeca's question but simply concentrating on rigging up a simple sling for Heath. It wasn't professional and it wasn't pretty, but he supposed it would get the job done for the time being. After he had finished, Rob gave Shamee a sidelong glance, then stood up, moving away from Heath a little to answer. Although he was pretty sure Heath was aware that it was he that had inflicted the wounds he was suffering from - and killed Petra to boot, Rob saw no reason to cause him more grief.

"Yes, it was me," Bobby told her shortly. "What else do you want me to say? I don't have an excuse, and no reason that is both true and you'd accept. If you're looking for somebody to tell you why a person would do that then don't look at me, because I couldn't even tell you myself,"

Rob glanced away, thinking on his words and just how true he held them to be. He couldn't explain it - he was no lunatic, but what justifications did he have beyond the conceited and the false? None.

"I take it you have a reason to talk to me further than trying to make me feel even guiltier than I already do?" Bobby said softly. "Because if not, it might be time for me to move on,"

The sling looked more professional than if Shameeca had made it, but Heath looked slightly uneasy. Maybe it was because he was in so much pain from the arm wound, or Petra's death. Hell, it had shaken her up enough and she barely knew the girl, this guy looked like her friend, so he was bound to be gutted because of it. She emphasized with him, but she couldn't afford to feel sad for those who had died. She didn't have time to do it, cause she had someone to save. James was counting on her and she wanted to stop that little psycho Lenny getting his kicks. And the best way to do that? Getting someone who already had blood on their hands spilling some more. It didn't help that he was easy on the eye as well.

"No Rob, its not like that. I ain't looking for you to give me an explanation, as far as I'm concerned is that what you done, you did to survive. You were helping to save Petra's life, which means that you aren't a monster or a player. I just... need some help. I think you can be the one to help me" Shameeca spoke, emotion in her voice making the plea sound a little desperate. Past caring, the black teenager glanced at the figure a short distance away from them. Heath just didn't seem right, almost like he was dead there, just lieing prone against the tree. If she didn't see his chest moving, she would have sworn he was dead, he just looked so pale.

Drawing in a deep breath and running her nearly clean hands through her long hair, the normally flat hair now slightly matted and dirty, its shape starting to wave at the end. She had been tempted to slice the length off, just to stop it getting into her face. But it seemed pointless to do it, it would grow back, even if she died. The hair and nails keep growing, Shameeca had been told that once, and it had freaked her out so much that she had almost religiously clipped her nails for a year once every few days. No, it didn't make sense to her now either. Nothing made sense no more on this god forsaken island.

"I just need to save him" she said quietly, almost under her breath.

Heath just let his be body worked upon. His body was sending out a sign of indifference. His head, as it be, was practically opposite in notion.

I could bind him right now , plotted the confused young man. It wouldn't be. Hard, that is. Yeah that maybe a good. Then maybe I could leave with that girl… or not. She seems to be getting really friendly with Rob. She may kill me if I pull off that stunt. Or not. No, I'll just do. There is no way she'd side with this murderer.

But he did nothing.

He watched the two walk away to converse in private…again. He didn't really notice after Petra's death but now it was much more apparent. The suspicions were growing vast and rapid. He didn't want to be out of whatever loop was being formed.

But he did nothing.

Grow a backbone, Heath! Just grow one all fucking ready! Dammit! I can't puss out now! Get over there and…and what? I can't fight him. I can't kill. So what the hell can I do? What the hell can I do as retribution for Petra's death? What?

Just then it clicked. It made sense to Heath. At that moment, his introverted shell was cast aside. His body was rejuvenated. His heart was revalorized.

At that moment, he did something.

"Hey Rob." he started, rising both body from the tree and voice from his cravenly coil. His voice was calm and lips that formed them were no longer smiling. He was slowly moving to the pair, eyes darted on Rob. "I know that you killed Petra Andrews. The girl you tried to save and the one I met just yesterday. Bet ya didn't know that was the first time I ever knew her, huh? Well…now she is dead, thanks to you.

"I don't care what the hell is going on in your mind. But what you did is fucking horrible. You not only killed a girl, but you also destroyed whatever dream, ambition and memory resting inside her body as well. Eighteen years worth, if you think about it, because you want to live that badly. That just makes you big fuckin' pimpin', huh?

"Look, I'm not seeking kill you. If I killed you, I'd most likely get knocked off by Wade or Bobby or Adam or whatever the rest. That's pointless, ya know. That person didn't kill Petra, they didn't know her and are fighting for whatever the fuck. All that stuff earlier? Ambitions and such? Not only gone but forgotten as well. I don't want that to fuckin' happen, ya know."

Taking in a few quaffs of air, our orator realized that going into a moving, character-developing speech was not a particular smart thing on his part. Blood, for one thing. His roundabout approach was taking up too much time than he needed. Reading more dictionaries wouldn't hurt either. Still, he was close, and he need only set one more nail to finish this foundation.

"So…Swear. Swear on that scrap of humanity that is seemly resurfacing, that if I become your shield from this storm, that you'd live the rest of your life to the fullest, in memory to Petra and every damn one of us.

Swear it."

"... Tell that to the eight people I've killed," Bobby muttered under his breath, not really caring if Shameeca actually heard or not. Yeah, he'd done it to survive, so what? It didn't make it right. Justified, maybe, maybe. but not right by any stretch of the imagination. But... help? What could Shameeca want his assistance for? Surely she didn't think he was going to protect her, she didn't come across as that ... well, stupid. Naive was perhaps a better word.

"Help? I'm not a good samaritan, so I'm sorry if what I did to help here gave you the wrong impression." No, he couldn't act like that any longer. If he was to redeem himself in some small measure then he had to do... do... something, anything.

Ugh. Fine. Rob thought to himself. I'll help, but no being a meatshield. He sighed.

"But I suppose... I suppose that I can hear you out. I'm not going to stand around and catch bullets for you though. Besides, if that's the tack you're thinking along, well, you're more likely to get shot at if I'm here than if you're going it alone."

He didn't get the chance to hear if Shamee replied though, because another voice called out, the guy he had tried to treat. Heath. Bobby thought about interjecting a couple of times on the other's speech, but it never seemed to be quite the right time, besides which, hadn't Rob just killed one of his friends? It was the least he could do, all things considered, to just listen to the man. As Heath finished, instead of answering his question, Bobby addressed the rest of what he had been saying.

"No, no, I didn't, looked as though you'd known each other for a while, but that doesn't really matter, does it? I've got no apologies for that, and no excuses either. Words aren't adequate. Don't you think I know what I've done? Don't you think it kills me inside to know what I turned into? I'm not asking for anyone to forgive me, not until after I can lay my own guilt to rest, and that's never going to happen. Do I swear? I'd swear on that if I had any intention of getting through this alive. I'd rather be killed trying to obtain some tiny measure of absolution than take another life just to prolong my own. Heath, if you want to be a shield, then so be it, because I'll be striving to take the bullet first," a half smile played across Rob's face, but it looked weary as he made something of a joke. "I think I'm better qualified for it anyway, I have a bullet proof vest,"

Huh, typical. A woman asks a man for help on this island and they assume that she's looking for protection. Shameeca could take care of herself, perfectly fine, thank you very much. But she wasn't going to just look after herself here. No, this was more than just self-preservation. This was something bigger than that, this was stopping some twisted little screw up killing a friend for nothing more than enjoyment while he waited to win the game. A game within a game, both ones having high stakes. She knew that what Lenny was doing was wrong and that was why she needed to stop him. Shameeca knew that this was entertainment she was in, her every movement being aired for people to see. Hell, she had even watched some of it, especially when that Bryan guy won last year. Not hearing the whispered part of Rob's reply, the black girl decided to say her piece.

She opened her mouth to reply, when Heath started to talk. What did he just say? she thought at how he wasn't seeking revenge. Hell, if Shameeca was in his place, she would be attacking Rob with everything she had. But, she wasn't him and his approach was something to admire, something to aspire to. As of yet, Shameeca hadn't actively done anything to hurt someone, not tried to kill or injure others. But she didn't have the luxury of just standing by like some passive person. If that route was taken, then James would die. Blood on her hands as if she had put a gun against his head and pulled the trigger. No, she had to fight to save her friend, well, close to friend anyway.

"Heath, I know your hurting. But some of us don't have the choice to don't do nothing and thats why I need your help Rob, yours too if you want to help Heath. I met with a guy, James Martinek if you know him. I swore I would help him find his girlfriend, but then we got seperated. Forcibly. I watched as he was marched off at gunpoint by the Priestly boy. Yeah, that guys proper snapped. He wants me to play a game. I need to find him and his sis Lizzie, get James back by the next announcements. If I don't go, James dies and then I will have his blood on my hands. Lenny said if I get there and do nothing to give him a so called rush, then we both die. I can't do it by myself, but I need to save James, so I can bring him to Bree. There ain't no way I can take him on by myself, with two on one odds, hell if James is even still alive. For all I know, he could of been fucking me along and shot him the minute that they got far enough away. But ya know, I have to hope that I can do this. If we are all going to die, no-one should die alone. You get me?" she spoke, a long speech coming from her, more passioned than she thought she could of handled. A rush of relief spread through her as she told her story to the pair of boys. Telling it outloud helped relieve some of the pressure inside her head, making her feel calmer, at least for now.

"You can either help me, or I can go alone. If you just want to do nothing, then give me one of your weapons. Cause there's only one way I can me winning this. I'm going to kill Lenny"

What Heath was expecting was a more concise response from the person who he swore to protect. Or maybe shock, or modesty. The response ultimately delivered was exasperating to our idealistic hero. His façade of calm was eroding, revealing a deep consternation.

What-what? Absolution? Man, you really expect that NOW? I mean, I may be the only person right now that wants you to survive, ya know. And I won't EVER forgive you, that's for true.

"You…" Heath started, his finger extended accusingly at Rob. Suddenly, Heath took a quick, sidelong glance over to Petra. In retrospect, he didn't understand why he did that. It didn't make any sense to the current situation. Still, once his eyes reached the girl, they couldn't be peeled away. Besides the massive blood flow, she looked just fine. She wasn't multilated or anything, not that'll matter in the next days. He couldn't help but ask himself why he was helping her. He turned back to Rob, with a defeated-drenched voice. "Never mind. I'll help you."

Then Shameeca started talking and requesting their help. She's nice. She's really nice, actually. But she tags along with us, she'll die. And if this James is still alive, which I doubt, he may try to gun us down. This may not beneficial for us anyway…yet again, getting weapons would be fairly nice. Screw it, Rob should decide anyway.

Despite that resolution, he couldn't help up offer up his good hand. "Sure, miss, but I can't very well help someone if I don't know their name."

(horrible post, but I'm not in the mood and don't want to hold anybody up.)

After Rob finished speaking he stopped to listen to Shameeca. That's... just messed up, killing people is one thing, playing that sort of game with somebody is quite another. Fine, that decides it, I'll help.

"What are you waiting for then? It's getting late. Unless Lenny has run into something that will stop him from killing James then you've got no time to lose. Where have you looked already? We've got a better chance of finding him elsewhere in that case," Rob ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Nobody should be able to get away with this. For what it's worth, you have my help."

"Shameeca. My name is Shameeca Mitchell, but you can call me Shamee if you prefer. Thank ya both so much for this, I just.. just can't say how much it means to find out that people here are still good and not just pyschos and screw-ups." the teenager said, proclaiming her identity for the other boy to hear. Now that the introductions were done with, it did make them all on a more level playing field, since they all knew each other, so if one of them made it they could remember who they were with. Theres a lot of power in names, but the idea to give a false one never entered Shameeca's head. She hadn't done anything wrong, well yet, but she just saw nothing to gain from lying at this point. Plus, ya know, they all probably knew each other by proximity. Just passing them by in the hallways, catching a bit of gossip involving everyone on the island before they got dumped into this violent place, where anger, hatred, fear, lust, all those emotions came abubbling to the fore. Here they were reduced to something primal, something where people showed their true colours. Heath had shown his and so had Rob or Bobby. Shameeca just hoped that they weren't putting on a show, lieing so that she would be an easier prey by trusting them. She just knew that she had to be not wholly trusting. Those who trusted too much could have it turn on them like THAT! But she trusted them enough and that was all she needed.

"I dont know where they are. I checked most of the places before I got here but theres only the tree place and the Hospital that I haven't looked. I'm sure that Lenny wouldn't go anywhere that theres too many people cause it would mess up his game, so thats most of the buildings crossed out. Then theres the Dangerzones, unless he has a deathwish or something. He's got two people and its raining, so he will head for some shelter, so I guess he would be at the Hollowed Tree. So we should make a move to go there, or make a plan, cause I know that if we run in fighting we will probbaly get gunned down in three seconds flat. Anybody got any ideas on how we can do this, cause my ones aren't that great" she spoke, eloquenting her thoughts as they came out of her mouth. Even if she wasn't planning murder (would it be murder? What counts as wrong anymore?), from a game plan thought, it made sense to kill Lenny. He was dangerous, armed, smart and had no qualms about fucking people over for fun. He only had one weak spot that Shameeca could think of and her name was Elizabeth. Maybe she would be key to bringing that son of a bitch down.

"Shameeca. Well, that's a nice name." Heath knew that it's polite to say that a girl has a nice name. No matter if Heath was slightly agitated and on this freakin' island. Plus, it wasn't a good idea to begin your battle conclusions with a compliment. Nonetheless, that is what our hero did, idiot that he is.

"Anyway, I don't think it'd be a good idea to just go into this thing. Lenny sounds like a real bastard, and I wouldn't doubt it if he did already kill James off. If we come though, he kill him just when you Shamee comes. So, what I'm thinking is that I'll go in and distract him while you two go in for the kill. How about that?"

"Well if what you're saying is any indication, Lenny is going to be with James, what do you think he'll do if he runs into anybody that isn't you?" Rob said after a while, an idea beginning to form in his head. "He isn't going to risk... well, I doubt he'll risk comprimising his 'fun' by killing them. Why don't we try and find him, and when we do... Heath and I can get in close, then we can converge on him when he's off guard," Bobby shrugged. "Heck, if you want to run a distraction, I think the sight of a guy who has... who has..." he took a deep breath, shook his head quickly, then spoke again. "...Killed eight people is going to cause enough of a commotion to occupy everybody's attention,"

He paused for a few moments to allow all of that to settle in with the others, then began to talk again, this time on a different tack.

"So, how are we all for weapons? It doesn't look as though either of you two drew a lucky number," Rob neglected to mention that his starting weapon hadn't been the greatest in the world either, but he figured that Shamee and Heath would figure out that he couldn't have amassed so much equipment by chance. "I've got a whole ton of stuff here," as he spoke, he opened up his daypack and began extracting various weapons. "Some kind of sword, a carbine, this pipewrench would sure pack a bit of a punch, and I know from experience this syringe is pretty useful, that scalpel sure can cut too," Bobby winced, knowing that his statement would just make them wonder how he knew some of what he had just said. "Anyway," he continued, indicating the row of weaponry on the ground. "Take your pick, although..." Rob retrieved the scalpel. "I think I'll keep ahold of this one. As for the carbine... well it boils down to which of you would use it better. To be honest Shamee I think that Heath should have it, because he's no way going to be able to use something like a sword with his arm the way it is. The only problem is the loading will be really cumbersome without two good hands, hm..." Rob stepped back and inclined his head. "Decide between the two of you I guess..."

A nice name? Well, at least it was better than the accusations of a stereotype name like she had received from other people. There was a lot in a name, your heritage, your roots. She didn't care about what people had to say about her name now. Hell, back home what she was doing was criminal. Conspiracy to murder and all that. She wondered whether the winners of the SOTF ever got arrested and charged for what they did, or did people let them go, as it was a kill or be killed situation? It wasn't something that she pondered on for too long as Rob opened his large horde of weapons for them to see.

"Wow, sure is better than the dildo they gave me" she said, indicating the bag that she had kept her items and clothes in. The weapons were different yet when Rob took the scalpel, she didn't entirely mind. There was the gun, the obvious choice to take. Yet, a gun made you a threat, a bigger target as people wanted the weapon more, and were more likely to kill you first. The pipewrench was also a good pick, but then again, Shameeca didn't exactly have much experience with it. Syringe was pretty much useless, unless you got dead close and it had something in it. Pipewrench was the best melee weapon she guessed. Pretty much a hack till you win weapon, non?

"See, wouldn't he need two hands to keep it aimed, ya know, what with the kick back? I mean, Heath, if you want the gun, sure you can have it, but if not, then I don't mind it. I mean, the sword after that is what I would take" she continued, picking it up off the floor and clenching it tightly. It was heavy, you could do some damage with it, but Shameeeca doubted that it would beat a shotgun.

"I think that Heath's idea of a distraction is good. But, Lenny wants me to play his game. I think that Heath, if he gets aggresive, then he will gun you down. I mean, no offence but with your arm, your not a fast mover. Maybe if you go in as like a sort of a scout, pretend that your looking for someone. Then maybe you could give us a signal and Rob or me can go in while you get everyones attention. I mean, theres at least two of them and if they have found others, then hey, maybe we will have to try and go through more people to get to Lenny. Not kill them, just make sure that they don't stop us from getting that son of a bitch stone dead"

Considering how open Rob was about admitting the truth, this should have relieved Heath. But the idea that it was eight was just too much. Heath was mentally dumbfounded and deeply troubled. Eight…and we still have a few students left. Dammit, I don't know. I knew it wasn't only Petra, but eight is… well, I guess that whole trite crap about forgiveness is… Umm, he is…is trying… No matter how hard he tried, Heath repeatedly mentally roadblocked himself. His justification for Rob was wearing thin. So he repressed his feelings on that matter. For how long, he wasn't sure.

Heath looked at the arsenal with a shocked look. His eyes nearly popping out of his head as Rob reached in to take out each weapon. A sword AND a Carbine? How the hell do you come across… oh yeah. Also am I really that blind? I'd say hammerspace if it weren't for the fact this isn't a Looney Tune. Oh forget it.

Heath considered everyone's input (though he couldn't help be embarrassed at the fact Shameeca's weapon is a dildo) and decided long and hard as he knelt down to pick up his choice weapon. "I'll take this pipe wrench, Shamee." uttered Heath. "It doesn't look as menacing as a sword or a gun…" He took a swing with it. The swing wasn't as strong as he expected but it was a solid one. "But'll sure knock someone the fuck out. For that signal, I'll give a… big cough. Kay?"