Survival Of The Fittest

On the one hand, going outside, exposing themselves, or even just moving were the last things Alda wanted right now. She didn't want to deal with the world out there, or the people in it. Eventually, one of them would remind her that Paulo was dead, and she'd killed someone because of it.

They'd remind her of how much she'd wanted to kill a couple other people along the way. That somewhere out there, Rosemary probably wanted to kill her. That Andi might want to kill Iselle. That seven had become four had become three and one, and that the number might only get smaller.

On the other hand, she was tired of stewing with all of it. She wanted something real and physical to distract her again. Something to let her fade out of all of this and focus on the ache in her muscles, the sweat on her brow, and the sun on her back. So getting out of this shit-hole of a mansion started to rate pretty highly, in retrospect.

"I've still got a baseball from that stand in my bag," she grunted out as she shifted up off the floor. "We could use that."

"Well, unfortunately, we're fresh out of any season boxed sets and a working DVD player.  Or the electricity to run it even if we did have any.  So I think we're going to have to pass on the 'hide out and watch Supernatural' idea.  Although I, for one, would love to do it," Iselle drawled, trying to cut her sarcasm with a grin.  

With a grunt and an approving nod at Alda, she slowly lumbered to her feet.  Fuck, her back was sore.  Maybe this was something that would do them some good. Give them a chance to work all the kinks out and do a little bonding.   "Since we don't have gloves, Kathryn's not allowed to pitch to anybody.  Last thing we need around here are busted blood vessels or broken fingers."  Iselle eyed their stuff.  

"It should be fine to leave out gear here, right?  We don't need to take it with us?"  

Kathryn sighed at Iselle's comment. "I won't throw hard, just toss," she argued. "If I can't throw there's no point in going out. It's kind of what I do."

Glancing over at her stuff, she frowned. "Well, maybe we should take it downstairs. Just in case we need to get out of here fast. We can run in and grab it."

Decision made she shouldered her bag and headed downstairs. Stopping on the stairs she turned and faced the other girls. "It's too bad about Supernatural, I'm sure the boys would have had some tips for us. Maybe not, have you noticed all the girl characters end up dead? It's kind of disturbing."

Alda grew quiet under the light-hearted argument. She didn't speak or move until Kathryn was already moving for the stairs. For a moment, she almost ran with it. What she had to say would spoil the mood, and only remind them of what she'd done, and she was tired of thinking about it.

But then four names flashed back through her mind. Then two more were added. That was enough.

"We should take the weapons," she grumbled quietly, still staring at the floor. Slowly, she moved her gaze upwards and looked at Iselle, her face wrenched somewhere between pleading, defiant, exhausted, and pensive.

"We don't know who could be out there."

A lie. They both had a pretty good idea of who could be out there. Andi, Ian, Rosemary...plus their friends, or allies, or anyone who gave a shit about Sven or Meera. There were probably a few of each left. Even one stumbling on them would be more than enough to cause trouble, if they were caught defenseless in the right situation.

There was something about the way Alda was looking at her that made Iselle bristle a bit.   What was with the whipped puppy routine?  She had gone out of her way to try and keep Alda as comfortable and happy as possible after the little..."incident".  In fact, she was pretty sure that there was a strained muscle somewhere in her upper back or shoulders from hauling Meera's dead ass outside so that Alda didn't have to see the end result of her handiwork.

Iselle exhaled loudly, nostrils flaring, not bothering to try and hide her irritation at being challenged by both Kathryn and Alda.  So what if she had initially made the weapons thing more of a question than a command?  As the catcher, she was the one who read the field and called the plays.  Besides, it wasn't like they'd be helpless without their weapons.  Alda's continued presence in the room was living proof of that.

"Okay, I kind of see your point," Iselle began as she pasted a strained smile on her face. "But, if we pile our stuff out there, wouldn't it be really easy for someone to grab our stuff and run?  Then we'd have no weapons and be sort of fucked."  She held up her hand to forestall any comments.  "And, if we spread our stuff out to keep someone from stealing it, then, if we had to cut and run, we'd all be separated and alone again, and then we'd be *really* fucked.  So I've thought about it and I'm gonna say that our stuff should stay here, tucked away somewhere safe downstairs like Kathryn said, so that nobody takes it and if we have to leave it, we can come back for it.  Good?  Good."

Alda's expression told Iselle that the other girl was letting fear lead her.  Fear was healthy to a point, but the three of them together didn't have anything to fear.  They had each others backs.  They were going to take care of each other.  Alda just needed to trust in her to do what was best for them.  

Iselle made a quick sweeping gesture with the back of her hand, motioning Alda towards the stairs.

"I totally don't see why you two need the weapons anyway? All you've managed to do is accidentally kill people. I'd think if you were worried about people, you'd not want them around. Besides we have baseballs, that'd make a pretty decent weapon, at least in my hands," Kathryn said matter of factly.

It wasn't really Kathryn's blunt, dumbass summary of what happened when Alda and Iselle carried weapons that hurt the most. That only confirmed what she already suspected. She was prepared for it. It stung, but it wasn't a surprise.

What really floored her, though, was Iselle. Her frustrated sigh at the thought of bringing weapons. Her strained, pasted on smile as she explained why they should leave them here. Her dismissive little wave to the stairs, as if to say "Go on, be a good girl and listen." It all added up to one sinking realization.

Iselle didn't trust her. She wasn't acting as her friend, or even her captain anymore. She was just holding her leash.

Her face twisted into a pained grimace as she seized the cat and her scavenged kukri from her bedside. She didn't fire off a retort. She didn't scream, or glower. She just started running. Down the stairs, through the door, past her scarred tree, through the gate, farther, farther...

She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. She just couldn't stay here anymore.

((Alda Abbate Concluded in Glass))

"Alda? Alda!  Stop!  GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!"

But she didn't stop.  She kept going and just like that, Alda was gone.  

'Faster than you've ever seen her move in her life,' a less than helpful portion of her thoughts supplied.  Iselle ignored the unkind thought and tried to focus on what just happened.  One second they were talking, and the next, Alda was taking off like some spoiled little suburbanite princess in those horribly cheese Lifetime cautionary movies that Fabi loved so much.

'Although, really, isn't she a spoiled little suburbanite princess?  Aren't we all?'

'Shut it, brain!  You are not helping,' Iselle snarled at herself, grimacing once again.  It wasn't safe for Alda to be out there on her own.  Alone was when shit happened to people.  She had been alone when she ran into Sven.  Lauren, Kelly, and Katy were alone and now they were gone.  She hadn't found them in time and now they were gone.  A sense of helplessness seized her by the throat, practically choking her with her failure to keep her teammates safe.  

There had to be something she could do, right *now*, to keep these feelings from overwhelming her completely.  She could feel herself teetering on the edge of...something.  Something big and dark.

Iselle's gaze fixed on Kathryn.  

Her.

It was Kathryn's shitty, sanctimonious comment that pushed Alda over the edge and sent her running.  "What the fuck, Kathryn!"  

A few specks of saliva flew from Iselle's lips as she barked at her pitcher.  "Why the fuck did you say that?  God, you are *such* a bitch sometimes!"

Kathryn watched the expressions on her teammates change at her comment. Well, the truth hurts doesn't it, she thought. She hadn't made it up. Both of them had killed people, accidentally, but people were dead nonetheless.

Kathryn added her own half-hearted attempt to Iselle's as Alda stormed past her and out the door. Whatever, Kathryn thought. Truth be told, Alda's rage had scared her. Yes, she'd been provoked, but she'd killed someone seemingly without realizing she was doing it. That didn't sit well at all with Kathryn.

She turned back to Iselle to figure out what to do next when her co-captain went off on her.

"Wait, I'm the bad guy here?!? How does that work," Kathryn snapped. "Alda's the one whose name will be announced. Alda's the one that's presented us a threat. I'm sorry if stating the facts, gets you two all worked up, but you need to face reality. And reality is you keep putting your names out there and eventually someone's going to come looking for revenge. If you were expecting me to keep quiet and play happy little teammate, you must have forgotten who you were dealing with."

Kathryn turned, stormed down the stairs, flung the front door open, and stepped onto the porch. Unbelievable! She started to pace trying to organize her thoughts and get herself back under control.

Kathryn's attempt at a verbal brushback did nothing except to enrage her further. A rushing sound filled her ears as she moved quickly to follow her "friend".  The familiar pre-confrontation buzz filled Iselle with the comforting, familiar rush.  "Fucking bitch!  Don't walk away from me," Iselle bellowed as she thundered down the stairs after Kathryn.

If Kathryn thought Iselle was going to lay down and take those comments quietly, then she was a deluded as her little friend James.  Maybe it was time to remind her of that.  Iselle skidded to a stop several steps away from Kathryn, chest heaving as if she had just run a mile.  A sour, burning sensation stung her throat.  

She narrowed her eyes and glared at her alleged teammate.  Her so-called friend. She faced Kathryn full on, hands firmly planted on her hips, as braced as she could be for the coming confrontation.

"So let's have this out then.  You have a problem with the fact that Alda and I have killed people.  I guess we're just not as righteous and holy as Saint Kathryn," Iselle sneered.  "But I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around and let people try to kill me.  I killed someone to save myself, and I would have killed to save you.  I guess I can say you don't feel the same way.  Want to tell me how long you've been patting yourself on the back for being a good girl while condemning me?  Has it been the whole time since you rolled up with that fucking weird guy who was telling me how I should have sat back and ate Sven's bullet rather than defend myself?"

The words spilled out in an angry rush, feeling like they were getting caught on her clenched teeth.  Without even giving Kathryn a moment to answer, Iselled lunged forward.  In the blink of an eye, she closed the gap between the two and shoved Kathryn will all of her might.  "Fucking answer me!"

"Keep your fucking hands off of me," Kathryn snapped as she regained her footing and shoved Iselle back.

"Yes, I happen to have a problem with killing. You know normal people, which we all used to be, don't go around killing each other. You may or may not have had a reason for killing Sven, I don't know. It's not like I can ask him. But you're acting awfully guilty for someone who was defending herself. If having an issue with that and the fact that Alda killed someone in cold blood...IN COLD BLOOD, makes me a saint, then maybe we should all start praying."

"You want to know when my problem with you started. It started the minute you and Alda decided to play offense. Killing our classmates, our friends, so they don't kill us first, I'm totally not okay with that. Now get out of my way," Kathryn said attempting to push past Iselle. "If you can't deal with my attitude, I'll find someone who will. I was doing just fine without you and Alda."

Kathryn's betrayal stunned Iselle into silence.  Kathryn had always been judging her and finding her wanting.  She never trusted her or her explanation about Sven.  

Kathryn had *never* trusted her.  

She had never trusted her and had always planned on leaving.  Se had undermined their group and Alda on purpose.  This had always been her goal.  To screw whoever she found unworthy on purpose.  She found the team unworthy.  

She found Iselle unworthy.  Unworthy of living.

Iselle, who's job it had been to keep the other team off-kilter with a steady stream of chatter and trash talk, was at a loss for words.  Of all the situations she had thought about, betrayal by the team was one that never crossed her mind.

The bottom was falling out of her world so she did the only thing that seemed reasonable.  She bared her teeth and pushed Kathryn again, letting all of her anger and disappointment fuel the motion.

Kathryn was so intent on trying to get back into the mansion that she was totally unprepared for Iselle's shove. Kathryn stumbled back, hitting one of the porch's support columns. She glared up at Iselle, her hand tightening on the ball in her hand.

Kathryn couldn't believe how unreasonable Iselle was being. Kathryn's comments had been about Alda and Iselle had jumped all over her comments. She'd taken them more personally than Kathryn had expected. And yet, the more Iselle spewed venom at her the less willing she was to see the girl's version of events. Kathryn was done with this nonsense. She didn't know who Iselle thought she was pushing around, but it was going to stop now.

"You really don't want to start something with me," Kathryn said. To emphasize her point she wound up and threw the ball as hard as she could. The ball sailed exactly where Kathryn wanted it, just over Iselle's shoulder, continuing off the porch.

(Carlos Lazaro continued from The Mad and Hungry Dogs.)

... are you serious? You have to be shitting him, really?  A baseball??

And Kathryn chucked that ball at the exact moment Carlos was in range. And it actually managed to hit him. In the head.

What the fuck.

Well CLEARLY he chose the wrong mansion. That was Carlos's big mistake. How could he have been so blind?

He wasn't even participating. It all just sorta happening to him .He didn't hear Kathryn and Iselle chewing each other out, hell, he didn't even talk to anyone from the softball league back at school. But no respect, not one iota.

Jesus Christ, how the fu- was Kathryn assigned that ball?! Where the hell did she find that on an island where all the weapons were taken away?! Was there a baseball field he missed somewhere?! It made no sense!

Great. Now he was going to go down in SotF history as a humorous anecdote, like that one guy who got his collar blown while taking a shit. That's all Carlos was now: a moment that someone brings up at a party in order to make people laugh. A fucking joke.

God. Damn it.

Of course he couldn't have thought any of this. The baseball fractured his skull and Carlos dropped like a sack of potatoes and then he died.

It would have been nice though. A minute to gather his shit.

Carlos would have appreciated it.

But, hey, screw him for being upset, right?

Iselle reflexively ducked Kathryn's pitch, lunging low and to the side.  She'd been hit, accidentally and 'accidentally' on purpose, enough times to know when her pitcher was playing and when she was being serious.

"You psycho bitch," she shrieked as she regained her footing.  While she and Kathryn had exchanged plenty of snarling jabs and insults during the heat of the game, it had never gotten physical.  Until today.

She also knew that Kathryn could very well have hit her if she wanted to.  Having cracked Sven upside the head, Iselle knew full-well what kind of damage could be done.  But the fact that Kathryn was even willing to threaten her like that was more that she could reasonably handle at the moment.  The situation needed to be diffused before they killed each other, and there was only one thing that came to mind.

Before Kathryn could throw anything else, Iselle gathered every ounce of power and force she could muster and rushed her friend.  Dropping her shoulder at the last second, she drove herself into the much slighter pitcher, cleanly bowling her over.

Letting her momentum carry her, Iselle ran off the porch and made for the relative safety of the overgrown hedges and surrounding gardens.  As much as it pained her to leave her walking stick, it would be safe until she could come back for it.  

Later, after Kathryn left or something.  

She just needed to get away from her "friend" for a while.  "Fucking yellow-eyed demon baby," she muttered in gravelly tones as she ran.