Survival Of The Fittest

Lana continued trying to hide herself with her hands, trying to drown out her thoughts.

There were always going to be other bodies, without a doubt. And she had the feeling Venice wouldn't be the last. So what do they do, give all the bodies burial? That seemed very overwhelming. And then what? People were just going to continue to make more. She only heard bits and pieces of the announcement, but she got an idea.

But what could they do for Venice at this point? Lana hurt her. She didn't mean to, but she did. And now she was gone. She and Dave. Gone. Nothing was going to bring them back. That was reality.

The poor luck that they all had. They were supposed to be at Disneyland right now, not killing and dying. Maybe in another world, she would be somewhere safe on a ride or somewhere. Something that was supposed to be thrilling, and perhaps only simulate danger. Not actual danger, or actual death.

Lana wanted to talk about what happened. Stephanie and Ilya probably saw her as no different than anyone else who killed. Deep down they were thinking of her as someone who was a killer, who deserved the blame, who needed to be locked up somewhere or worse. She was going to be seen as bloodthirsty, no matter who she talked to.

Her mouth almost opened, asking the questions that came. Am I one of them? Did I have to start too now? Do you blame me?

But as the questions almost came out, she stopped herself.

It was inevitable that they were going to instead comfort her. Don't worry Lana, it was an accident. It's not your fault. You were just shaken up by Dave. Somehow that seemed worse. Instead of casting her out they were going to try to make her out to be a victim. Lana didn't want to be, especially now that Dave had committed suicide and Venice was no longer moving. People, feeling sorry for her? It was going to be a terrible experience.

Lana was snapped out of her thoughts by Stephanie's hand, and she turned to look. She nodded in agreement. They should move on somewhere. Anywhere.

She slowly reached for her bag and her gun, only to stop once her hand was an inch away from the rifle.

"Someone else should hold it", she mumbled.

((Lana Torres continued in Midnight, The Stars, and You))

Stephanie couldn't help but smile a little bit despite the situation. She was glad that Lana hadn't completely shut herself in just yet, and acknowledged the fact that they needed to move. She watched as her friend moved to grab her weapon, before stating that someone else should take it. She wasn't sure if it was because of a sense of duty to her friend or some lingering mistrust, but Stephanie felt like the burden of carrying the weapon should be on her. Grabbing the rifle, she was somewhat surprised by it's weight, but she still managed to hold on to it just fine.

Shouldering the weapon, she gathered her bags, looking back at Venice one last time. She still felt terrible for having to leave her out in the open like this, without even a decent burial or anything. Shaking her head, she tried to dispel any such thoughts. She'd never say it out loud, but she knew that come tomorrow, Lana was going to have a target on her back. Someone, somewhere, would decide that she was a threat because her name came up on the announcements. They would need to find somewhere that was easy to hide in, and if worse came to worse, defend.

They would have to figure it out on the way. Right now they just needed to get away from their currently location.

((Stephanie Chan continued in Midnight, The Stars and You))

Now that the danger had passed, the shock, the horror of seeing another life snuffed out like a candle wick, what could Ilya say? Nothing at all. He felt no grief for a girl he barely knew, who hardly even seemed like she was worth knowing at all. No, his grief targeted Lana, his friendly Batgirl, for he knew that she something had turned inside of her, much like a burnt out battery, warped paneling, or frayed wire.

Imagine for a second, he thought to himself, that we all went home tomorrow. What would change? Would Lana still be able to look at herself, knowing that she killed another girl through sheer clumsiness and carelessness? Could she still bring herself to wrestle and do those furry things she liked to do on the internet in the wake of that? Perhaps after months of therapy, with a traumatic episode or two on the horizon.

And oh, what this would ever do for her future. Whatever her plans, her hopes and dreams, the world would hardly let a murderer go through with them. If he were in her shoes, which he realized with a shiver may well come true, the world of MMA would be very hesitant to sign him up. He'd imagine that after the disgraceful end of Chris Benoit, still painful and sensitive to anyone in the wrestling business and perhaps MMA as well, nobody would want a murdering athlete.

Lana had given up her gun, passing it on to Stephanie. Fair enough. She could use a way to defend herself since she was the only person not in shape. The two of them started walking away, and before Ilya followed suit, he sighed, deciding to arrange Venice's body. Hands crossed over her chest, eyes closed, form straightened out to lie still in a coffin that didn't exist. All she needed was a bed of flowers and the picture would be complete.

There. Now he could move on with them.

((Ilya Volkov continued in Midnight, The Stars and You))