Survival Of The Fittest

Everything got awfully uncomfortable, very quickly. One minute, DeMarcus got scared, didn't want to do what he did, had some kind of halfway valid excuse... the next, Dominqua was a "variable", he was "simplifying the equation", and now it was apparently cool. Not to mention hitting Andrew personally with the kind of tone he'd associate with a movie mobster looking for protection money, the most transparently false concern for wellbeing. What the actual fuck.

Then again, they were down what, thirty, forty people already? Of course it didn't get that way without people acting like this. Some survival of the fittest, seemed like the people who were lucky enough to get guns and knives were surviving, and everyone else was waiting for their bad luck meeting with a maniac like Kitty or, well, this guy.

Anyway. Unfortunately for Andrew, DeMarcus had clearly noticed him edging away. Sure he could probably cut and run, but something told him that might just escalate things, and for the time being it sounded like Dani had things under control. Or at least like she was trying her best to bring all her Queen Bee powers to bear to de-escalate. So he just kept on edging away, slower and with more care not to trip over anything now, hoping not to be the one to break the seal and kick off the violence.

DeMarcus slung his arm over Fred’s shoulder. Fred looked down at the Desert Eagle nervously now that it had come into view, then back up at the others. Andew kept up his retreat. Even Marshall was backing away now, trying to get Dani to do the same. She was the only one who asked if he was okay with all this.

“Ah… uh….”

But what did she expect him to say? As his breaths grew more frantic, his chest rose and fell and bumped occasionally against the gun that now hung down in front of his heart.

“I…”

If he said no, there was a slim enough chance he could get away in one piece. Then what? He’d be as good as dead if he went off on his own. Maybe he could stay with Marshall and Dani, and Andrew, if he was sticking around too. But all they would do was draw more trouble, like Marshall had already, shouting from the mountaintop. And when it came, they didn’t have any weapons to fend it off.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Dani asked her question. Fred answered. DeMarcus nodded and looked over to the girl with wide eyes, eyebrows raised as if to say, "See?"

"Copacetic. Everything's cool. We out here tryna to stay alive too."

As if to provide further concession, he took his arm from Fred's neck and took another step away, providing plenty of separation. He let his gun arm drop to his side and his gaze swap to Marshall.

"Now, all we was trying to do was trying to figure out a little more about this safe house you was yelling about. Where in town is it? Is there a password or some shit?"

Smooth. Casual. Like everything was now settled. If anything was apparent, it was that DeMarcus either hadn't registered the tension or had already moved past it.

Dani’s eyes narrowed slightly, looking over Fred. Both the length of time it took him to answer and the way he answered more or less told Dani everything she needed to know. If she were to guess, it was more than just nerves and that Fred actually was not okay with the situation. The only reason he said yes was because a maniac with a gun was right next to him. Not that she could blame him after she was dragged across an island at gunpoint.

Fred was a decent enough guy, but traveling with a killer, regardless of how willing, was not a point in his favor. Not that she was in any position to cast stones given who she was currently aligned with. People who she’d really like to show up right now and resolve this situation. She doubted she could talk her way out of this situation and make Fred turn on DeMarcus. She could certainly try, but her efforts might be cut short if a bullet was fired her way.

She looked around, and Andrew was backing away slowly. At least he still had that option. She was pretty much stuck behind Marshall and she suspected a mad dash would be her only chance to escape. She weighed her options, trying to think of what she could possibly do. This was a bad situation, but she could try something.

DeMarcus wanted information on that safehouse. Of course, it was incredibly obvious he had less than virtuous intentions. Which, again, not to cast stones, she also didn’t have the best of intentions when it came to that same information. At least she was trying to be subtle about it.

She took a few tentative steps back, eyeing Fred and nodding her head in a way to try and convey that he come over to her.

How could he have been so stupid as to yell the location out like that?

Marshall glanced back at Dani. Dani, at least, deserved to know. Andrew, too. Maybe even Fred. He couldn’t whisper to Andrew from here, though. Fred… only if he left DeMarcus. Dani would have to be it. It might be his only chance.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and, just loud enough for Dani to hear – perhaps the only time he’d whispered in his life – he said, “East end of the housing area, words on the door. Furniture crowded near the entrance.”

Then he lowered his hand and stepped away from her, and towards DeMarcus. He kept both hands in view, open and empty.

“DeMarcus Miller… you are a proven danger. By your own admission, you have a twitchy trigger finger. Despite that, I want you to be--”

The word ‘safe’ stuck in Marshall’s throat.

“I want as many people as possible to be safe,” he hastily corrected. “I’ll trust you with the location. Even lead you there myself. Under one condition.”

He held out his hand, and took another step forward.

“Give me your ammo. I don’t expect you to trust me with the gun, but if you’re going to talk about people like they’re math problems… then I need it out of the equation.”

He hoped the others took the chance to run.

Things changed rapidly. Again. Fred was obviously intimidated into staying on DeMarcus' side, and then Marshall was obviously trying to make a play that might remove the entire gun tension from the situation entirely. Or it might lead to one of those moments you always saw in media, the guy's about to hand over his gun, then suddenly he takes the other guy hostage, or just shoots him, or something like that. But it was out there in the wild now, so it was on Andrew to respond somehow.

He could just keep backing up. All the attention would definitely be on the others by now, he could just turn tail and bolt, in fact.

But he'd just spent a whole day alone because people kept running rather than stick together in the face of shit like this. Running away was how people like DeMarcus got away with throwing their weight around.

So Andrew reversed course, started moving back towards Marshall and co. He didn't need to be brave, just front like he was, that was all. DeMarcus would surely back down if he faced a united front. Or if he tried to shoot someone else, Andrew could try and jump him while he was focused elsewhere. Hopefully wouldn't come to that. Didn't need to be brave, that's what he told himself. Besides, how was he meant to call himself a man if he wasn't willing to at least look like he was ready to protect some vulnerable friends?

Part of him wanted to speak up, agree that Marshall's suggestion was fair. But he decided against it, best to let the attention stay on everyone else, maintain his whole standoffish persona as if he wasn't up to anything unusual. Yeah, it was tactical, not just the easy choice. Not that he needed to be brave.

Just needed to look it...

Fred couldn’t help but sigh in relief when the gun was taken away. Of course, it still posed a threat, but as far as his pulse and breathing were concerned it was out of sight, out of mind.

Marshall seemed ready to cooperate too, offering an answer to DeMarcus’s question- but only if he unloaded the gun and handed over the ammo. Fred didn’t imagine for a second that DeMarcus was going to accept Marshall’s terms, at least not in the intended way. If Marshall was getting those bullets, DeMarcus would have unloaded the gun in quiet a different way. Fred cringed at the thought.

Still, it got him thinking about what would happen if DeMarcus was effectively disarmed. No one would have a weapon then, but if they travelled to this safehouse together, there might be safety in numbers. The other three didn’t just have the numbers on DeMarcus and his reluctant companion, they were also generally fitter; Andrew was built, Marshall ran and played Lacrosse, and Dani did cheer. That wasn’t necessarily a problem though, because without the gun to keep him in line, Fred might be able to defect if they turned on De.

That was all wishful thinking, however. DeMarcus was clearly enjoying the power that came with the gun, and he wasn’t going to give that up any time soon.

Dani was nodding at him, like she expected him to understand her telepathically or something. He stared back blankly, wondering what she might want. Did she want him to attack DeMarcus while he was distracted? No chance of that.

“I don’t know man… maybe we should just leave…”

The gun was a talisman. It was reaffirming. It was what allowed DeMarcus to manage the island, to impose his will on it before it did the same to him. To have some little prick think he was going to rob DeMarcus of that, to transfer the control? it was insulting. It was profane.

Of course, DeMarcus didn't have a handle on that on a conscious level. These were deep lizard brain thoughts that made primal connections and nudged the person he presented to the world. These thoughts were present in the way his jaw clenched, the way the muscles in his cheeks throbbed. They were evinced in the way DeMarcus's posture straightened as Marshall moved forward, in the tightening of his fingers on the gun. The thoughts were given a voice in the way his breath hitched in his chest as he tried to fill his lungs.

DeMarcus didn't hear Fred as Marshall came forward. The world fell out of focus except for the boy that had moved closer, his hands open and ready to take away the little pills that made Dominiqua stop challenging him and had given his power.

He snapped the weapon up at the other group, in Marshall's general direction. He had tried to say something that was lost in his throat. Later, upon reflection, he would think it would have been something disarming, like "Who the fuck do you think you are," or "What kind of idiot you think I am?" But he would never be sure. He also wouldn't have been sure if he had pulled the trigger on purpose or if it was the tension from all those ancient, primal connections making the decision for him.

The high-caliber report ripped across the mountaintop, a better shout than Marshall could have ever hoped to make.

((Moving ahead of Dani in order for flow, with permission.))

Fred had seemed to support leaving. For him, that would be fine. Fred hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t called people equations. But for DeMarcus… Marshall didn’t know if he could let that happen. If DeMarcus left, he’d be able to shoot anyone just as he shot Dominiqua.

The gunshot ripped through the air.

Marshall took another step forward, though a little less sure of it. He’d never realised gunshots were so loud up close.

There was red on the ground. He’d had his hand outstretched for the ammo. Half of his ring finger and the tip of his little finger were not there anymore. He didn’t feel it yet. Maybe he was too cold. He stared blankly at it. He could see a glimmer of bone, and part of the ring finger held on, dangling.

“Uhhhhhh...” Marshall said, that noise tailing slowly into a confused monotony.

Another step forward, as what was left of his hand trembled.

He couldn’t let DeMarcus leave while still a threat. He couldn’t let DeMarcus leave. He couldn’t let DeMarcus leave. That last thought before being shot bounced around in his head, his whole system knowing something was missing but still careening in the direction it already had been, like a car’s brakes going out.

“...hhhhhhhhhhaaaAAAAAH!”

He charged, that confused noise blaring up into a panicked shriek as he ran at DeMarcus, the only plan in his head being to throw him off the mountain somehow.

If there was one thing that movie downplayed it was just how loud gunshots were. In all her life Dani had never experienced guns being fired, with that day where Mr. Pérez was shot and killed in front of them being her first actual time. This was the second time a gun was fired off nearby and for some reason seemed even louder than the first time.

Dani cried out in surprise, slapped her hands over her ears and dropped into a crouch to hopefully avoid any bullets being fired her way.

She saw a splash of blood and looked towards Marshall, two of his fingers fucked up by the stray bullet that DeMarcus fired. Her eyes were wide, her instincts screaming at her to make a run for it but was frozen in place by fear and surprise.

Marshall let out a shriek and charged DeMarcus, which was enough to snap Dani out of her stupor. She stood up, frantically looking around as she tried to think of a plan. In the midst of her panic, she darted back and forth, trying to circle away from the conflict with the distinct desire not to get shot. When she finally managed to get her senses back in a somewhat more coherent state, she looked for an immediate opening and took it. She bolted, running past Marshall and DeMarcus and blitzing past Fred as she ran the way in which they came. She stumbled as she ran, having to slow he pace somewhat to keep from falling over at times, but her exit remained frantic as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the armed killer behind her.

((Dani Bird continued in In Transit...))

Chaos erupted.

From where he was standing, it seemed to Andrew much more like DeMarcus has shot on purpose and had terrible aim than that he’d fired by accident. It made sense in a split-second, who considers accidental gunfire when they’re processing information at that kind of speed, when a realistic lack of experience handling a gun explained it just as adequately? Andrew didn’t know how to aim a handgun either, after all.

In that moment, Andrew didn’t exactly make a choice. Instinct put him on auto-pilot, and he did what was in his nature to do.

People needed him. He’d be for them what wasn’t there for him.

Marshall was fighting back. Dani was running, seemingly towards Fred. Andrew followed suit with Dani, intending to get both her and DeMarcus’ seemingly very unwilling partner out of danger. Exactly how or to where hadn’t quite crossed his mind yet, there wasn’t time for that, just that he was supposed to put himself between them and the gun, and urge them away from danger.

“Go, go, fucking go!”

[Andrew Lapson continues elsewhere, lucky for him.]

The other boy moved, a bull charging an enticing matador. DeMarcus didn't have the wherewithal to see the damage he had done, nor the time to really look. There was only the body hurtling toward him. He didn't fire another shot, startled instead into raising the gun hand above his head so that he could meet Marshall as he sped on.

"Motherfu...!" He had time to say before the boy's shoulder plowed into his gut and drove the air from his lungs. At the same time, his hand fell in a sweeping arc, the butt of the Desert Eagle making contact. DeMarcus heard something crack and he hoped it was Marshall's skull as he fell to the ground.

The edge came to meet Demarcus's face as he sprawled and rolled along the path. He saw the side as it dropped off, saw what could have been his imminent death. It stole the rest of his nerve.

Not looking to see where the other group went, or if he had laid Marshall low, or even if Fred was still around, DeMarcus pushed himself to his knees with one hand then stood. He was moving then as fast as he dared down the path, back the way he'd came. He'd find a new path when he had gathered himself. Yeah. That was it.

Once everything was back in order.

((DeMarcus Walker continued elsewhere...))

Something collided hard with Marshall’s head. He heard a crack, and felt a wave of dizziness. His balance was off already from ramming DeMarcus, and the blow to the head sent him stumbling back.

The world swayed and became a blur, with footsteps and yelling.

Marshall lost track of it all, reaching up to his head. All he did was succeed in smearing blood from his severed, damaged fingers over his temple, and there was a sharp prickling. When his hand lowered, he found… glass. Glass? That made no sense… did it?

No… didn’t matter. DeMarcus… he had to stop DeMarcus.

A blur in the distance, too bulky to be any of the others present…

“H-hey… come back...” Marshall groaned, stumbling after DeMarcus, oblivious to anyone else.

...

He wouldn’t last long going down the mountain before tripping, and looking up to see that no-one else was in sight.

At which point he finally processed the damage to his hand and let out a shriek that could be heard for miles.

((Marshall West continued in Safety Net.))

And Fred was alone on the mountain.

It had all happened so fast. The gunshot had rang out and before Fred could tell who had or hadn’t been hit Marshall was barrelling towards DeMarcus and Dani was sprinting towards him, Andrew in tow, and for a second Fred thought they were rushing him and braced himself for an impact that never came. Instead they blew past and vanished, and for another second it was him and Marshall and DeMarcus, and there was a loud crack and Fred winced and then they too were gone. All that remained was a spatter on the ground, blood and grisle, maybe a fingernail. He didn’t even know whose.

So this was freedom. They’d all disappeared behind him, back the way he’d come. The road ahead was empty. This wasn’t like before. No one had a gun to his back this time. He could go wherever he wanted, if he was feeling brave. Fred looked forward. He didn’t know who he would find, if he went that way. He didn’t know where it lead.

He looked back.

Cursing himself under his breath, Fred turned around and hobbled off, calling out as he went.

“DeMarcus? Yo, DeMarcus? De?”

((Fred Hobbes continued in Where We Go One))