Survival Of The Fittest

Branca was beginning to get incredibly annoyed with the freaky girl. Everything about her irked Branca, so much so that Branca had started the grip her gun awfully tight again. If push came to shove, she was ready to do what needed to be done.

"Fine, if we won't work like a team, perhaps I could work as your...bodyguard. Would that suit someone of your standing?"

Branca chuckled a little as she listened to Afra's proposition. She was finally respecting that Branca was much to high class to be seen with people of Afra's standing. The idea seemed good though, as Branca wouldn't want to get her beautiful faced ruined in a fight. She could just sned Afra in and have Afra geet her face ruined. It was perfect!

"That's a mag-mag," She struggled, "magnitude idea! Glad I thought of it." She disillusioned herself yet again.

"That's is a mag-mag-magnitude idea! Glad I thought of it."

Afra's patience with this creature was being strained with every word that she st-st-stuttered forth. She wasn't sure if this pig was being serious or that she really was arrogant.

Do I really have to go through this in order to get a fucking gun, she thought with disdain. Is Afra Renee Jacinth, of all people, going to resort to serving this fucking arrogant waste?

She put it off, knowing that this charade would be for not if she didn't persist. She sighs the slightest of sighs. Shoving off the head to the side, Afra got on her left knee, trying to feed the pig's fake grandiose. She drooped her head, a task she was too willing to do, so she didn't have to stare at that excuse of a face.

"How do you want to be addressed and what shall be your first command, leader?"

Brolivia wasn't surprised when Afra got down on one knee. She couldn't count how many times people had thrown marriage proposals her way and each time that happened, she'd deny every single one. Brolivia couldn't help that she was one of the more eligible bachelorettes at school. She'd just have to crush Afra's heart as well.

"Sorry, hun, but you're not exactly... my type," Brolivia shuddered, not giving Afra time to speak. "And I really don't think getting married on this island is a good idea, I mean where would we even get a priest?"

It was then that Afra said something about addresses and commands. Brolivia was sure that Afra was crying from the rejection, hence why she had her head down. It was hard to be beautiful and it was a burden that Brolivia had to carry.

On the upside, Brolivia now had a loyal slave.

"Call me.... Princess Olivia." Brolivia's hand shot out in front of her, palm open, "And your first order is to give me your food. They didn't give me enough."

Afra wished at the moment that Branca started to make the formulate sounds barely resembling anything remotely any person with have a brain cell could process, that she could regress better. She wished that Branca would just start doing the first reasonable thing in her life and just stopped breathing. She wished all this and the gods weren't merciful at all.

Afra could not help but remotely chuckle at the suckling pig's sheer stupidity. Though her ire still culminates with each bastardization of the English language, Afra knows how truly incompetent, conceited, pathetic and all the endless appropriate adjectives this Branca is. Calling yourself boss is one thing, but princess?

Needless to say, Afra is going to really enjoy the end of her reign.

Wait , Afra began to muse, unless this Olivia really enjoys shouting her name out like a retard…which I wouldn't past her, this can't very well be her… She looked over at the freshly made corpse. Afra still is amazed with what such an impressive work of art it was. Too bad the artist is that thing. Neh, it matters not. I have to admit though, I'd rather be a faceless corpse than a pig any day. Without question.

Turning over to her bag, as to get the thing her meal and to not be seen with a grin on her face from wit, Afra takes out the loaf of bread. Even if she was stranded on a desert island, Afra wouldn't each eat such filth.

Afra walked over to Branca, presenting the bread as delicate as can be.

"Here is some food, Princess Olivia." She said, trying hard to seem legitimate. Hope you choke on it.

((James Trejo continued from What a day, what a day, what a day))

Jimmy was eager to be free from the jungle, with its dense overgrowth and looming threat of traps, but he forced himself to move as slowly as possible. It was far too dark for him to see anything, but he was confident that he could avoid danger by prodding the ground with his cane and using his echo location as well as he could manage in the wet conditions. The constant focus on the ground in front of him was starting to wear on Jimmy's nerves. The axe that was slung over his shoulder was beginning to feel very heavy. He had gone almost a whole day without sleep and it was taking considerable effort just to stay awake. He would have collapsed right there if the constant prods and cuts provided by the thick vegetation didn't keep jogging him awake.

Finally, Jimmy reached the edge of the jungle. He felt an unexpected boost of energy as the plants began to thin and the ground became firmer. Unfortunately, he was still so focused on navigating the obscured terrain that he was practically on top of Afra and Branca when he heard Afra speak.

"Here is some food, Princess Olivia."

Damn, all I want is some privacy and I keep running into people. How small is this fucking island? Wait...Princess?

Jimmy snickered. He knew he still had a chance to be sneaky if he could stay quiet, but things always seemed funnier when he was tired. Since stealth was out the window, he tried to play dumb. He didn't know if joking would be appropriate in this setting, but he didn't have the sense or time to think about it. He turned toward the person speaking and raised the hand holding the cane in a feeble greeting.

"Uh, hey, I'm Jimmy. Don't worry about the axe, I'm not playing. I just wanted to ask you, um...my food's running pretty short, so...are you handing out food to everyone or only to royalty?"

(Neuphim, you're posts are starting to get really confusing. Could you please stick to past tense?)

Branca's mouth formed a disgusted scowl. One loaf of bread wouldn't be enough to fill her up, not to mention it was getting soggy from the heavy downpour. She was royalty and thusly needed a feast, not one puny loaf of bread. How would she be able to maintain her womanly curves without nutrition?

Food was food, however, and Branca greedily snatched the loaf of bread from Afra's hands as someone spoke up. Branca's immediate pulled the loaf to her chest, guarding it as if the newcomer was going to take her food from her.

"Uh, hey, I'm Jimmy. Don't worry about the axe, I'm not playing. I just wanted to ask you, um...my food's running pretty short, so...are you handing out food to everyone or only to royalty?"

A wild look overcame Branca as the beggar-boy asked for food. She needed the food more than that fatass, she was just skin and bones from the lack of food.

"Yeah, you hobo. Royalty only, so get on your way," Brolivia announced sternly. There was no way he was getting her food.

(Sorry about that, I've been using the library's computers, so my posts have been rushed as of late. Without excuses, I suck in the English language is much better)

Branca, like the glutton she was, swiped the loaf from Afra's hand, and looked as if she would have just dove in and devour the whole thing. She could not help but look with disdain as she took the loaf. Afra was a little surprised when Branca held the loaf to her body. She assumed she was woshiping the food or something.

Afra examined the boy, while he gave all these pitiful attempts to sound like he wasn't a threat. He wasn't to Afra, but that wasn't the point. The boy carried a couple things that would be greatly appreciated. She must take them somehow.

"Yeah, you hobo. Royalty only, so get on your way," Branca niggardly responded.

At that moment, Afra saw a fairly good hand to play. A real royal flush, if she could say so herself. She saw few flaws in this idea and truly, Branca's greed is the only variable in this circumstance. By that point, Afra knew that wasn't too much of a variable.

She went up close to Branca, not too close or fast to cause alarm and advisedly whispered into her ear, "He might actually have some more food on him and not willingly to give any to you. Princess, I will make small work of that lesser. If it troubles you naught, I humbly ask to borrow your weapon to uphold your will, Princess Olivia."

Branca stared at Afra, mouth hanging slightly agape. The tall girl was using words that were foreign to the fat girls ears. She didn't know why Afra used the big words and to be honest, she didn't like it. That, coupled with the fact that Afra was trying to get her weapon, threw Branca over the edge... again.

"Back off, you..." Brolivia stumbled as she attempted to find an insult for Afra, "you.. GRIM REAPER! IF I WANT THE HOBO DEALT WITH, I'LL DO IT MYSELF! SO BACK OFF MY GRILL!" Brolivia shouted, attempting to sound threatening. It wasn't very princess-like, but it had to be done.

Branca bent down and shoved the soggy loaf of bread into her daypack and then stood back up the face Afra. She wasn't going to let this bitch tell her what to do.

"One sec, you dirt-ball," Branca said to the 'hobo',"We need to settle something."

And with that, Branca swung the butt of the gun at Afra, aiming for the side of her stomach.

As a self proposed vaticator, Afra saw things before they happened. This wasn't the case.

Afra tumbled down to the ground, gripping her side and tasting blood in her mouth. She stayed flat on the ground for what appeared to a century. All the while, her mind was blank and this frightened her. She knew that she was about to die... but she wanted to go out with at least finesse.

Getting up, Afra bore on her face something she rarely has: a smile. "Okay ...Branca Braunstein , you say you are a princess. Should I tell you what you really are?" Afra took in a deep breath, which pained her in side. "You are fuckin' fat, disgusting waste of human life, a failed abortion, and A FUCKING PIG!"

Pausing briefly, Afra added with a cackle, "I'll see you in Hell, you shit."

Branca's mouth formed a perfect '0' as she stared at Afra in shock.

People usually didn't treat her this way. They worshipped the ground she walked on. She obviously couldn't blame them, she was the picture of perfection. The body of a goddess and a face to match.

"Don't be jealous, whore!" Brolivia screamed, not even caring about the 'hobo' anymore.

With a lunge that one wouldn't expect a fat girl to be able to do, Branca attacked Afra. The taller girl wouldn't be able to fight her off. She grabbed Afra's arm and pulled it towards her.

Opening her mouth wide, Brance clenched her teeth around the flesh on Afra's arm.

It's a steak! It's a STEAK! IT'S A STEAK!

The phrase repeated in her head as Branca bit down harder.

Jimmy had only been half-serious about the food request. He figured that the best outcome would be some much needed rations, or at least some friendly laughter and an explanation of the name "Princess Olivia", but he knew that being outright refused or threatened was much more likely. What he didn't expect was the Princess's straight acknowledgment of her 'royal' status.

"Yeah, you hobo. Royalty only, so get on your way."

He was a little confused by the lack of humor in her words. Jimmy brushed off the insult, he had been called things much worse than hobo before. He was too tired to do anything even if it had gotten to him, anyway.

Greedy bitch.

"Whatever", he said as he turned to walk on by.

Then, the Princess attacked her subject. Jimmy stopped where he was and turned toward the stream of insults pouring from Afra's mouth. Part of him was glad that the sun was now rising so he could see the bloody brawl. The other part of him felt like it was going to throw up after the Princess sunk her teeth into Afra's arm.

I think I should be feeling some sort of pity for them being driven to this, but all I feel is disgust. I don't know what set the Princess off, but now they're both acting like animals. I'm almost ashamed to be part of the same class--hell, the same species as them. But they're still people! They deserve to live! I know. But I also know what I have to do to win. I can't give up such a perfect opening. I can feel remorse later.

Jimmy dropped his cane and slid his bag off his shoulder. He gripped the handle of the axe tightly to keep it from slipping from his sweaty palms. He took a few deep breaths and approached the two entangled girls. Neither of them noticed he was even there. He raised the axe over his head and tried his hardest to ignore the voice that was now screaming inside his head, telling him to show them mercy. Jimmy closed his eyes and swung the axe toward the girls, not caring which one it struck. They were both animals.

(Paranoia Man, you weren't really suppose to interfere for kills, but it does help what I was planning of doing. Though Pink Pistol is suppose to kill my character )

Afra was still laughing. Though if it was out of the absurdity of the situation or her mind regressing the pain is fairly uncertain. What was certain was that Afra knee'd Branca in the stomach, pushing Branca with a slab of Afra's flesh in her mouth.

The gods seemed to be smiling at Afra with this at because lo and behold, at her feet, was the weapon she so greatly desired. Afra's smile broaden at the ineptness of the girl. She took hold of gun, savoring it, and in one swift move, pointed it at Branca.

"Well Princess, did you have your fill? Because this is where your miserable life, which lasted too long for my taste, en-"

Afra saw it all work out in her mind. She saw Branca, her face torn to pieces with the bullet. Blood, alongside those thick, slobbery tears, going down her even worsened (if that's possible) face. Then Afra would do unspeakable, grotesque things. Flaying, skinning, ripping, something that you wouldn't be able to get away with in society. She saw all this very vividly.

In this fantasy, She didn't see an ax in her shoulder.

With this unpredicted pain, all Afra could do was sprawl on the floor, accidentally throwing the gun back to Branca.

A deep 'uuf' escape Branca as the knee connected with her stomach. The impact had knocked the wind out of her, causing her to drop her gun at Afra's feet. A large, bloodied hunk of flesh hung in Branca's mouth, which her teeth were still firmly planted into.

Branca clutched her stomach as she lay on the ground. She watched defiantly as Afra picked up the gun and pointed it at her. How dare she!? Nobody pointed a gun at someone as important as her!

"Get that gun outta my face or I'll call the fucking police, bitch!" Brolivia screamed at the tall girl, not even aware that calling the cops was impossible. "I'm the daughter of Jeremy Swan and... and... uh..." Brolivia struggled as she tried to remember the name of her 'mother'.

For most people, that would have clicked with them and made them realize they weren't who they though they were, but not Branca. She blamed her forgetfulness on the island. She was too stressed and common knowledge just wasn't there.

Branca was snapped out of her air-headed ponderings as Afra fell to ground with a groan of pain. An axe was stuck in her shoulder and Branca look up to find the perpatrator.. the hobo!

"You damn, fucking hobos! You and your damn bridges and abandoned ware-houses! That's why your here, right?! Is your fucking hobo family waiting inside to eat whatever food you found in the dumpsters!? YOU DAMN HOBO'S ARE RUINING THIS WORLD!!!!!"

With an animalistic scream, Branca picked up the gun that Afra had dropped and swung it at the hobo's head. She'd show them. She'd show all the hobos of the world to fear her.

((Sorry, it just seemed like what Jimmy would do in the situation.))

Jimmy opened his eyes as he felt the blade of the axe sink into Afra's shoulder. He pulled it out and was mesmerized by the fresh dark stain that ran down to the handle. He wasn't sure where the stain came from. His mind felt completely empty for the first time in days. The only thing he was aware of was a voice from somewhere nearby saying something about hobos. Before he could even think about what a funny word hobo was, he felt something crash into the side of his head. Jimmy took a few staggering steps backward before falling to the ground. Jimmy reached a hand up to touch his aching temple and felt something warm and wet.

"Thas nah good", he mumbled as he faded out of consciousness.

Afra thought it was trite and stupid that her life was literally flashing before her eyes.

Dammit, I don't want to reminisce. I have no reason to! I can't fucking die! There is reason why the cards said that. To forworn me, so that I can win!

Images of her family members, her mother, her father, came flodding into Afra's head. The time when they vacationed down to the San Juan-

What? Why the hell are playing tricks on me? I'm don't CARE about those fools! Why should I? And I'm not going to die!

Another image-

No! Fuck you! I'm not going to need to do that! I'm going to kill this arrogant pig, even if it's the last thing I do! I'm going to win. I saw it! I saw myself surviving! I will survive, goddammit! I, AFRA RENEE JACINTH, WILL KILL EVERYONE!

...

Good. Now, let's get this over with.

And when Afra opened her eyes again, she saw the hilt of Branca's gun, smashing into her face. The force of the hit smashed through her goggles and exposing a large portion of Afra's frontal lobe to the air.

And Afra saw emptiness.

G52: AFRA JACINTH -- DECEASED