Survival Of The Fittest

Raising his eyebrow as though amused, Ash looked at Cillian thoughtfully, falling silent in thought. He shrugged carelessly.

"Probably just as well....not much fun playing with someone like her..." He murmured, casting a contemptuous, snide look towards Sophie's corpse, now floating along the shoreline. But then he broke into a grin as he looked back towards Cillian.

"But fine," he announced carelessly. He flicked a hand from his pocket to casually point at Cillian momentarily before withdrawing it again. "We can play this game. But it had better be fun."

Just like that other one...I'll finish you the same way.

Cillian must have jumped two feet from the ground, he was so estatic. The blood from the other people had washed off, they left him all alone now. And so a new friend to be with him was just what he was looking for... Haddy was scaring Cillian too much. He smilied, then stopped for a second. He couldn't forget the present.

"Wait, one second, I have to show you my present!"

With that he grasped out the meat cleaver, his eyes glaring at Ash's face. Would the boy still want to play? His thin lips pulled back into his maniacal smile.

As the glint of the metallic edge of the cleaver caught his eye, Ash simply looked over at it, ever calm, ever relaxed. Ever careless. He maintained his composure, feet placed slightly apart in a confident, open stance. He smirked at the sight of the cleaver and sported a grin of his own.

His foot shifted slightly in the sand, breaking the silence. In a low voice, he uttered, almost harshly, "You're on. Now let me show you my present."

Hands still in pockets, he pivoted on his left foot suddenly. His form became a momentary blur, as he swung a turning kick in Cillian's direction so that his heel slammed head on into the centre of the other boy's chest with a full impact.

Cillian squeaked in surprise as a loud crack sounded. His hand sent the meat cleaver flying away from him, where it went he didn't notice. At first impulse Cillian grasped at the boy's shirt, ripping it apart and flying into the water. Salt water entered his blue eyes, making the whites red, and he glared at the boy's chest to see if there would be blood. Instead, there was something dark, a shield of some kind. Cillian was going to take it from the boy soon.

Flinching slightly as he felt the front of his shirt being ripped away, Ash stepped back, mildly surprised. He recovered quickly and peered down at the remains of his shirt. The front had been completely ripped apart, revealing the dark, bulky shape of the kevlar underneath. Ash clicked his tongue in slight irritation. So he'd been discovered so soon.

He calmly looked back towards Cillian, glaring red-eyed at him. A smirk crept across Ash's face as he deliberately strode forward the way he had just moments before he'd done away with that other girl. This one would be just the same...except with a little variation.

A smirk crept across his face as he moved into the water again, murmuring taunts at Cillian as he approached. "What was that? I told you I wanted to play a fun game. But in the end, it turns out that you're just another loser after all, like that other girl." He indicated with a turn of his head towards Sophie's lifeless form, bobbing up and down in the water. "Boring. Ordinary. Worthless. No fun at all."

He suddenly kneeled down and clutched the base of Cillian's throat with a tight grip. "So....you should go to Hell too." Smiling again, he shoved the other boy down, so that his head plunged underneath the surface of the water.

You're all the same.

Hands gripped his throat, the pain from the kick being suppressed by the lack of oxygen to his brain. Not that that mattered to Cillian, as his hands grabbed at Ash's elbows. His thumbs, the longest and sharpest of the sickening man-made hand arsenal, pressed hard into the veins he could see before being dunked into the water.

His nails came down as his head did, and he was stuck there for what had to be half a minute before he kicked viciously towards Ash, aiming for whatever he could. His thumbs used more pressure as he slid down the boy's wrist.

Not expecting this reaction from Cillian, Ash let out a snarl of pain as the nails struck his elbow ran down his arm down to his wrist, ripping through cloth and flesh in long, vertical lines. He flinched and cursed harshly, sharply withdrawing his arm back with a splash. By this time, a red cloud formed by drops of blood billowed over underneath the surface.

He gripped his arm, which was drenched in saltwater and blood, gritting his teeth in pain. This he had not expected. And to think, that he was the one winning up until this point.

He stumbled backwards in the water, caught by surprise when Cillian's foot slammed into the bone of his ankle, rendering it numb. Growling slightly, he turned back towards Cillian, looking to see where he was now.

Out of the water the first chance he got, Cillian grasped onto the sand, his hands taking up clumps of sand to throw into Ash's eyes. Rinsing his hands quickly with salt water, he grasped on hard to the boy's arms, the salt water from his hands coming in contact with the large gashes in his victim's arm.

His back against his, he used leverage to flip the boy over him, hoping to hear something of a cry as Cillian saw a nasty decent-sized rock seeming to be in the area Cillian was going for.

Instantly, Ash's vision was blinded as a burning sensation met his eyes. He flinched his head back and yelled out in pain and frustration, struggling to wipe the grains of sand from his eyes. A mangling grip met his arm again, and he felt himself being flipped over.

As he dropped, he felt himself slam into a hard, rough surface. His neck snapped back, and part of his head snapped back into a rock. Stunned only for a split second, he gripped Cillian's arm with both hands, struggling to peer through his distorted vision. Immediately, while attempting to stand up, he attemped to use the momentum (from Cillian's act of throwing him) to pull his opponant back towards the rock Ash himself had just landed on.

All the while, his head spun, as though he were in trance.

Cillian felt himself be pulled back, his lower part of the rib cage getting cut as he landed on the sharpest part of the rock. He grabbed the boy by the face and threw him down. Heavy breathing, coupled with the pain in his side, took over his anger and ferocity.

He pinned Ash down in the sand, his whole body weight pressed on his center, and with one hand pressed his head back.

"Now this," he said as his lips pulled back into his grin, "is fun."

Before he realized what was happening to him, Ash suddenly found himself being thrown downwards to slam hard on his back, into the damp sands of the shoreline. As his vision gradually cleared, the world around him continued to spin. Somehow...the odd sensation of being thrown around, slamming into hard surfaces here and there, being knocked in and out of conciousness...it was oddly familiar.

In fact, it incited a memory within Ash's mind, dating back to when he was but a child. He had been in the backseat of the car that time, seatbelt carelessly unfastened, sullenly clutching a rather demonic looking plastic action figure (it was alright to play with those things at that age, so who cares?), when suddenly he felt himself being thrown to the side, just before the front of the car slammed into the nearby pole, first sending him careening forwards, and then throwing him back, causing his head to slam hard into the window.

There had been no time to feel any sense of fear. If he had felt the least bit afraid during the time of the accident, he could not remember. Come to think of it, the memory itself was a bit hazy...almost like a dream. In fact...he wondered if he had lived his whole life as though it were a wandering dream, never knowing exactly what he was doing, yet doing it anyways without a care in the world, subconciously knowing that he would someday wake up...

But that was back then. Likewise, now, there was no time to feel fear. But there was still time to react. It was time to wake up.

"...Why don't you just go to Hell, where you belong?" Ash snarled with a dazed grin, clenching his uninjured hand into a fist and bringing it upwards so that it caught under Cillian's chin with a slam. "I'm sure they miss you there."

"...Why don't you just go to Hell, where you belong?"

At this time Cillian snapped, even moreso in his mind and slightly back with his head as the fist collided with his chin. He slammed Ash's head in the sand more, tilting his head back. He used his blood-stained fingers to pry into Ash's mouth.

As Ash struggled to rise to his feet, he felt something enter his mouth, causing him to choke back the blood and saliva that entered his throat. His attention turned towards Cillian's hand, which was reaching into his mouth, struggling to pry something out with claw-like nails that pierced into the flesh of his mouth.

Making a strangled noise, he grabbed Cillian's wrist with both hands, struggling to pull it away. It was then that a burning pain formed inside his mouth as he felt something being ripped away, torn off. A warm, thick liquid dripped down into his throat, causing him to cough and choke.

Had he still possessed a tongue, he might have recognized by taste, his own blood.

Cillian's nails dug in deep into the pink thing that liked to lash out at people with awful words, and pulled it back into his hand. He had no use for something so vile, so he dropped it into the sand, next to the partially buried meat cleaver. It caught his eye immediately, and he pulled it out. His present.

Bloody, saliva covered fingers wrapped tight around the handle, and his eyes shined bright. Slamming the boy's head back one last time, he moved to the side of him quickly, and uttered in a sick, guttural tone,

"You just go to hell."

The Cleaver came down, just upon his scalp, cutting it away like a slice of butter. Blood poured out like a spilled bowl of fruit and jello....

Everything seemed so surreal. This Ash realized as he watched Cillian threw aside bloodied clump of flesh that had been ripped out of his mouth. Hey, man, what do you think you're doing with my tongue? Ash wondered to a bit. There was an odd emptiness that filled his mouth now, other than the pain of ripped flesh and the blood that was gathering down his throat. Watching as Cillian moved over to retreive the cleaver, it was then that Ash began wondering to himself, dazed as though in a dreamlike trance.

So finally...after being cheated over and over again, Death returns in full fury...

Sure took it's time...but I wonder...

Picking fights with the local gangs...cutting across highways...pretending that I was invincible....had I actually believed that I was living some kind of life?

In the end...I'm just another loser, right? Game over. That is that.

He chuckled to himself, brows contorting slightly along with his twisted smile as he watched the cleaver being raised. Even now, he felt no fear. All he could do now, was let out a strangled laugh. But the person he was mocking now....was himself.

That's right....I'm such a fool. I'm so stupid....I've been so stupid all this time. But that's alright...it's not like I ever had a life to begin with...

It's time for me to wake up now.

His quiet laughter stopped short as he felt something enter his scalp with the sensation of dull thud. He felt a brief moment of pain as flesh ripped away from his head, just before the blade finally entered his brain. His blood spilled out like the juice of a split fruit. By then it was all over.

But perhaps...the game had already been over, a long time ago to begin with.

B20 - Ash Holmes - DEAD