Survival Of The Fittest

The situation was indeed dire. The giant may not be armed, but he was... still frightening. One on one, fair fight, Travis would be done for.

So much for all those gym sessions...

But it wouldn't be a fair fight. Close, yes. But if he played his cards right, then maybe... just maybe he could take out this giant once and for all.

No, you idiot. Stay under the radar! Not to mention that Tyler clearly has intent to play. Let him loose on other kids and be done with it. Less work for you!

Attacking Tyler would only serve to further damage Travis in the scuffle, if he even made it out of the fight at all. It would also put half of the strongest kids in Aurora against him, at the very least. No, killing Tyler was just stupid.

What if I just..... rob him? He'll play more aggressively, and be more desperate to get supplies. The more kids who get killed on their own, the less work there will be for me to clean up...

Many plans and thoughts flew through his head, though outwardly, Travis Webster was the personification of amiable. He smiled at Tyler and almost sang out his next words:

"I'd. Like. To see you. Try. Haha!"

Trav might be smaller and weaker, but he was still fit. Trained. And he had the saw. He was ready to fight if he had to.

"I did see his fucking monster of a gun, yes. It was quite the weapon. Probably one of the best on the island, as a matter of fact. Heheh... I mean, shit. My weapon would be nothing but rubbish if I faced off against someone like him again."

Tyler went onto calling him out for hiding. Fuuuck, what an archaic notion he was spouting. "Real men do the real work". What a fucking dumbass. Being a "real man" was a surefire way to get killed. You couldn't just play the game his way. He would lose. They always did!

Not that Tyler couldn't be helpful before his inevitable demise, of course.

Travis shrugged and scratched his hair. He was almost looking relaxed now, peering up at the sky as he continued.

"Clearly, there are many layers of weapon-type, and I'm on one of the lower tiers, yeah? So... I think... no use attacking people that much higher on the scale, right? Better to hide away and NOT be killed on the first day. Slowly work your way up the ranks, so to speak, until your weapon is one of the best on the island. You know, get supplies from the tiers under you, and weapons from the higher ones? So, nah, I got it all figured out, man. I know how I'll play this. But hey, thanks for the advice, though."

His eyes darted down at Tyler just as he was turning to go. They were cold. His smile curled up into a large, menacing smirk. His body language changed instantly. He was ready to pounce.

"Say.... wait a second... you're unarmed, aren't you, Ty? Isn't that even LOWER on the scale?"

He now held the saw steady in both hands. The engine was on. His blood.... Pumping.

"So why don't you make this easy and just... give me the rest of your stuff?"

Tyler turned his head very slightly, so that the corner of his eye was on Travis.  Then a huge grin split his face.

"Alright," he said.

And then he was charging Travis, swinging the bag from his shoulder and twining its strap about his wrist.

((Slight GMing with the bag ripping approved))

Well... Shit. He should've just let Tyler go.

Way to get greedy, you bloody idiot.

As the bag came flying up towards his face, he instinctively raised his weapon.  The two objects clashing sounded through the grounds. Fabric was being ripped, and suddenly he was blinded by the objects flying out towards him. Not to mention that the sheer force of the swing had knocked Travis completely off balance. He swiftly took a few steps backwards, swinging his weapon in an arch as to avoid hurting himself with it. The sheer strength of Tyler was incredible.

Jesus Christ, had he been a few feet closer he would have risked accidentally eviscerating himself with his own weapon. A chainsaw was not a bloody sword! You couldn't parry with it!

He was now holding the hedge trimmer straight out at Tyler. If Ty got too close, Travis would literally try to run him through, despite the incredibly bloody and "not AT ALL under the radar"-affair it would be. Better that than being caught in the grasp of this monster of a man, who clearly had NO sense of self-preservation combined with incredible size and power. The guy had charged a kid with a FAMAS, why had Travis been so stupid as to think he would be intimidated by a mere chainsaw!?

At least Travis had taken his bag out of commission, so desperation would definitely affect Tyler's play style, just as planned. He had succeeded in what he wanted to do, but an unfortunate side-effect was that the target in Tyler's desperate sights would now be him.

Travis barely felt the pain emanating from the wound in his arm. All of his attention was on Tyler now.

He wasn't worried. Thanks to the length and size of the hedge trimmer, he had a much greater reach compared to Ty. What he had perceived as the biggest weakness of the weapon now turned out to be his own saving grace. Funny how things turned out. His eyes were still cold and focused. However, Travis wasn't smiling anymore. He was angry at the boy. Why couldn't he just have given away his bag and left!? He almost spit out his next words.

"Try that again, and you FUCKING DIE."

When the debris settled, Tyler was in a different position than before--standing by one of the booths nearby, his eyes narrowed.  There was a slightly wider gap between him and Travis than there had been a second before.

He cocked his head.  He was still grinning.  

"Nah," he said.  "Keep this up, and you're gonna die."  He hopped back so that he was sitting on the counter of the stall he was near.  His eyes weren't glaring, but oddly cheerful.  "Ya can't play this thing half-assed," he said.  "Ya want to stay low, stay low.  If you want to fight, fight.  Ya can't do both."

And then he gave a little gasp, slipped off the counter, and fell onto the ground within the stall.

There was a long, long moment of silence.

Then Tyler burst up, whirled, and grabbed at two things half-hidden in the shadows at the back of the stall.  When he turned around, there were unbroken bottles of dusty brown glass in each of his hands.

"If you're going, leave my stuff," Tyler said, his face slightly dirty from the fall.  "Otherwise, this ain't ending 'til one of us is dead."

Travis was completely still for a while. Tyler wouldn't budge. As a matter of fact, that smile on his face was a familiar one to Travis himself. Ty was enjoying the confrontation. It was just like he said. Either Trav left, or one of them died.

He lowered his guard a little and began laughing.

"Ahahah... Ooooh... Tyler. You're one crazy motherfucker, that's for sure."

He hoisted his own bag up on his shoulder. He held the saw in one hand now, ready to swipe if he came too close.

"We all have our own roles to play, dude. I'm not going to blow my load this early in the game. There is no point in us fighting here. You go can go rabid somewhere else."

At least Tyler would have serious problems carrying all of his items around. Desperation and all that shit had been accomplished. It was time to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Travis gave him a mocking salute.

"See you around, you crazy bastard."

(( Travis Webster continued in In The Dark The Dead Are Dancing... ))

Tyler stood where he was, bottle in each hand, eyes on Travis as the other boy strolled casually out of sight.  The grin on his face slowly faded, and he laboriously stumbled out of the stall and towards the area where his stuff was scattered.  He collected the items carefully, laid them out on the stall where he'd placed his stuff, and frowned.

Then he went to work.

He stored most of the stuff behind the stall, leaving only two ration bars and two water bottles out next to the ripped remnant of his bag.  He hefted this for a moment, then spent twenty minutes tying it together in various ways.  By the time he was done, he'd constructed a much smaller, much rougher bag from the remains of the old one.  He untied it, slipped bottles and bars in, and retied it.  The strap was still intact, although now considerably shorter since he'd had to use it to secure the ripped bag.  

He slipped it over his shoulder, grabbed the bottles, and started walking.

(Tyler Lucas continued in Rebellion)