Survival Of The Fittest

Buspirone.

Hell. Why would they keep that on the island? It's an anxiolytic! They couldn't have missed it. They had a while to set this up... Actually, why would they care? They think they've got a fool-proof system. What does it matter if one of us is drugged to the gills? Odds are that even if they are calm, they're going to die.  Don't qustion your good fortune too much. Ernest looked at the bottle. They don't even list all the side-effects on this little bottle. There was about twenty doses. Plenty to get them through the next couple of days.

"Well, the good news is that it will probably work. The bad news is that it will only suppress some of the symptoms. What it will do is relax him a fair bit, and his mind will have to do the rest. He's going to feel nothing change for about an hour, aside from the minor placebo effect and then the medication will hit his brain, and he'll be in happy-land for about four hours," Ernest thought for a moment, Well, I think these are still good. I can barely read the date with my glasses on. Ernest took off his glasses, folded them and put them in the side pocket of his coat. The pills had about a week of life left in them.

"Yep, these are safe. I'd prefer Nyquil or something to get him to sleep, just because there is a much lower chance of a bad reaction, but these should work better."

Ernest got up and looked around. There were a few more boxes to search before all of the crap was on the floor in piles. There was a lot of medication. Hell, I hope there aren't any serious junkies...

Vesa batted his eyes in surprise.  "Is it really that fucking hard to be filthy rich?" he thought to himself.  He was about to say something to that extent, but then he stopped and remembered something.

"The draft...if I can escape this nightmare alive, I'll need to get myself back into peak condition...so I can prove to Mr. Risebrough and the rest of the world that I was worthy of being a first-round pick at age sixteen."  Then he looked over at Ernest with a smile as cold as the wilds of northern Finland that he and his family used to visit.  "Even if I have to kill you right here and now, Ernest...my friend."

He snapped out of his daydream as he glanced over at Ernest while taking a couple bottles of the painkillers and stuffing them into his sack.  "I know I'll end up getting roughed up a little, so I might as well,"  Then he turned to him more directly.  "Yeah, it may be a good idea," he said when he finally spoke.  "Anything to keep him from flipping out is good for us...at least until we can get him to this kid he knows...I believe his name is Peter or something like that."  Vesa knew that it was critical for him to reunite Andi with this kid before seeking out on his own quest...

Felix had set about the prepaeration for the night with a drive that he attributed solely to boredom. He was not sure exactly how to go about making Ernest's 'security system' around the windows, but moving heavy objects in front of the front door was easy enough, as was locking the back door and mentally mapping out the small one story building. Ernest seemed content to assist Vesa in finding medication for Andi, who Felix was less wary of now that he had shown some emotion other than detachment, even if it was irritation.

Felix even found some blankets and promptly threw them next to his pack at the table. With nothing to do, Felix went for some early sleep. All the better to start his watch rested, if someone woke him up for it at all, and he would not mind if they didn't.

---

Sleep turned out to be a fruitless endeavour. Though not particularly stressed, Felix found that resting in a strange place was enough to make him an extraordinarily light sleeper. All through the night, he went in and out of sleep, and finally, as soon as he saw daylight through the window, Felix gave up and and got to his feet. Feeling strangely refreshed regardless, Felix went back to the chair next to his table, and sat down. He'd left the map openon the table all night, and out of need for mental excersize, Felix studied it.

His stomach growled. He started in on his remaining crackers, though his body told him they would not help. Even in Felix's opinion, they were unnecessarily sweet, and sweetness in food was something he did not enjoy, even if it was bearable. Focusing on the map, he came to a solid conclusion.

What do you do?

The residential district had, at one point, housed people. People ate foot, and often kept stores of it. Hopefully, that meant there would be something more fulfilling. Felix thought of waking the group up and going for the foot on his own, but chose not to. He could act faster on his own, though he felt a responsibility to let them know where he had left to. Felix scrambled around for a ntoepad, realized the only one was in Ernest's position, and instead settled for marking the map. Felix picked up an unused Syringe and stabbed it into the table, leaving it standing up over the map, right on top of the residential district. Satisfied, Felix left out the back door, unable to lock it behind him.

He was barely out of the building when an unfamiliar voice interrupted the sounds of the morning.

Felix knew what he was hearing. The voice of the enemy, the man who had written their survival guide, and who Felix suspected was top dog with the terrorist heads of Survival of the Fittest. Danya.

He was exuberant over their performance so far, which Felix had found uniquely entertaining. Only someone so cheerfully morbid could make something as interesting as Survival of the Fittest come to life. There was no disappointment in Felix, in just a few words Danya had proved himself someone who would be interesting to cross. So Felix stopped in place, and listened intently.

The names of the dead went by and meant very little to Felix, other than his sharing laughter with Danya about Jameson's death, who Felix himself found eerily metrosexual and a little bit too much of a priss, but the names of their killers stood out to Felix. Johnathan Michaels was Mrs. Saranna's homeroom with Felix, and Felix was not unfamiliar with his history. Former featherweight champion of the world at a very young age was impressive, losing it because of drugs, not so much in Felix's eyes. At school Johnathan was something of a recluse and Felix suspected it to be only partly out of arrogance, but still found himself looking down at the older kid, even now that he was toting a shotgun and boasted on of the island's highest kill counts. Felix thought once that Johnathan might have fired on him early on in the game, but ruled it out. As Felix was being shot at, Johnathan was killing Chad whateverhisnamewas.

Paris Persphone was another interesting one. Felix knew that on first encounter he'd be able and would probably enjoy ripping Paris limb from limb. Not because of any particular dislike - Paris was pathetic and that was all of it - but because Paris had two kills and Felix knew it would be fun to put him back in place.

Bryan Calvert, whoever he was, also had a shotgun, and a kill. While it didn't seem in character ofr the person who shot at Felix to only on reflex kill another, Felix still couldn't help but think Bryan was the one who had opened fire on him in the first moments of the game, perhaps because Felix knew of no other shotguns.

The others, Felix did not recognize. But one thing was clear, this island was definately an interesting spot to be. Dangerous, but interesting.

Not chaning destination, Felix set off for the residential district in search of breakfast.

((Continued in You can feel what you don't see))

Andi felt his heart being tugged at. He heard Peter's name being said by Vesa, and it once again made him think of the boy who claimed his heart.

"Little gay boy misses his boyfriend? Awww, ain't that cute."
Siouxsie began mocking him, only he knew that this wasn't the real her. She was a figment of his imagination, and one that is totally out of character with the original's kind nature.

"You know, you might want to think about finding poor Peter before he," and then she made a motion with her hands that symbolized slitting of the throat.

Go away.

He continued think this, and closed his eyes, hoping she would be gone when he opened them. But there she was, still smiling, and even began whistling a tune.

"...where do we keep the drugs around here?"
A question he aimed at anyone who may be in the room.

((OOC: I finally return, YAY for winter break starting))

In all honesty, the morning hadn't made anything better. Ernest's day was already ruined. 12 kids had died in the night; it was proof that the situation was taking control.  It was disheartening. Peter obviously wasn't the only one dealing poorly with stress right now. He just managed to keep the violence and fear inside. It led to him having some form of mental instability, though. Oh, he's asking for his medication...

Ernest walked over to Peter, and gave him the pills.

"Alright, take two of these pills now, once a day till we get off the island. I'm sure that will solve the problem entirely. Sleep will help too. If things get bad, and you'll know  when they do, take another two pills immediately. That should help relieve your stress symptoms. If it doesn't work, then double the dosage. I'm leaving it in your hands."

Ernest smiled as best he could given his current predicament. He had a day's worth of medication left. Taking half-doses would have essentially no effect on his fate. He had to figure a way to get people off the island, and then get them away, in 24 hours or less. He could never leave the island, either. Once he stopped taking his meds... his body's tolerence would make him immune to it forever more, and thus completely insane. He took his second to last pill out and glanced at it.

Actually, it was kind of funny that you could enclose sanity in a pill for people to swallow.

Oh well, here's to a better life. Maybe things will be different next time around. I hope they will be. Ernest picked up his water bottle, and took hs pill. Twenty-Four hours till Everything I am now, dies... and is replaced by something terrible and vicious. Did this pill make me who I am? Am I even real? Is this who I really am? Or am I that person who now seems insane, sociopathic, and violent? I'd like that to not be true... that this pill merely purged the terrible side of myself...

Ernest sighed a little.  And checked on the russian, to see if he was still amongst the living.

When Vesa heard the death toll had already reached twelve, he clutched his heart...there had to be at least a hundred kids on the island and to think that... "No...this can't be happening..." he thought to himself as he watched Ernest give Andi the pills.  "Check your bag...there should be some water bottles in there," he told him as he stowed his flashlight again; daylight was beginning to set in and there was no need to waste the batteries any more than necessary.  But as Vesa made his way toward the door, he stopped to think...there were some names that he knew.  Chad Munteanu was one of them; he was in the same homeroom with him, though he never talked to him much, if at all.  Jaime Dibenidetti was another kid he knew from what he called "Dolph's Hellhole," but other than that, he didn't know anyone personally that he dealt with on a day-to-day basis.

As he cleared the strands of hair out from in front of his face, Vesa stopped to think...about whether or not he was capable of taking the life of another.  He knew that it would probably be inevitable, but it would be the first taste of blood that would prove to be the most difficult to swallow.  He then began rattling off a list of names that he would like nothing more than to leave in a bloody pool after carving them up as he took the diver's knife out of his pack and held it close to him.  Soon, the name of his first victim came to him as clear as the lake that he knew and retreated to with his family.

"Silvstedt..."

He then turned to Ernest and Andi.  "I need to step out for a moment," he told them, "it's starting to get a little musty in here.  You may want to open a window or two to let some fresh air inside...you two gonna be all right?"

Ernest looked at Vesa curiously. He wasn't just stepping out. If he was, he wouldn't have mentioned it like that. In all honesty, it did smell like a lockerroom in the hospital, but that wasn't the true motivation.

"Well, once we can account for Alex and Felix we should be fine. I'm pretty sure I know where Felix ran off to, but I haven't seen the Russian... and it worries me a bit. After all, he's the one with the most firepower out of all of us," Ernest sighed, "If you're going out 'exploring', be fucking careful out there. I don't want anyone to die; particularly not a... well... a friend. "

Ernest cracked open a window a little to let the worst of the smell out and continued to look for Alex.

Sanity in a little pill

"You know I'll probably be back when it wears off," Siouxsie said to Andi.
"It'll keep my head clear for now, at least."

He went through his bag and pulled out a water bottle, and then swallowed the pill, and finally got a little sustinance from the water itself.
He was worried still.

12 people have died already... scary to think about, and it had Andi thinking that at any moment he, Vesa, Peter, or anyone else he knew might be on the next kill list. Well, he needed to find Peter before that happened.

But, then, he closed his eyes. He couldn't hold them open anymore anyways. And then, finally, he passed out.

About damn time he got some rest.

((OOC: Shit...things didn't work out the way I wanted them to with a certain individual...moving to plan B))


Vesa's eyes widened when he heard that Felix...and especially Alex, were unaccounted for.  "Voi...vittua!" (Oh...fuck!) he growled, "I don't think I can go anywhere...I need to find out where those two are."  He sighed, letting his weight slowly drag him down into a sitting position...and he too began to reminisce.  Only he did so aloud as he turned to look up at Ernest, the big Finn relieved to feel a gentle breeze coming into the building as the stench began to dissipate.

"Hey Ernest...have you ever had to make a choice between two things you've always wanted...make the choice, then...regret it?"  The cogs in Vesa's head were working overtime; he knew that twelve were already dead, and probably more now that they were well into the second day of their ordeal on the island.  "I should've came back home...especially after hearing from Aki that Kärpät was interested in me after worlds.  He may not be on the top squad and a little behind Tarkki and Suomalainen in his game, but that could have been the best path for me to get to Minnesota...and with Nik being a part of their organization, it would've been that much easier.  But there was something else besides hockey that I wanted...something beyond the screaming girls back in Kerava...and will my quest for normalcy end in my death?"

Vesa shook out his head and screamed.  "EI!  Se häntäpää kuin nyt kuluva!" (No!  It can't end like this!)  His eyes, once a gentle brown, were beginning to become bloodshot as the realization began to set in...this was real...and he may not make it out alive.  But he didn't care, and as he clutched his knife close to him, he looked up at Ernest with a smile on his face.  "Don't worry about me," he said, "I'll be okay...and I will be back to check on you and Andi.  If you find Alexander and Felix, let me know how they are too, okay?"

Not a single hour of sleep has visited Siouxsie, Daniel, and Kathy since they realized where Andi was.

Siouxsie was living off of massive amounts of coffee, Kathy's depression didn't let her sleep, but Daniel was on the verge of it, with all the alcohol passing through his system.

Andi was taken to the island and now, three bottles of vodka, and a pack of cigarettes later, Daniel felt like he could pass out.
Which is exactly what ended up happening on the couch.

Kathy and Siouxsie were in the kitchen, and the two managed to form some sort of bond other than Siouxsie cursing kathy out.
The silence that was shared between the two was interrupted only by the sudden noise of Daniel snoring, and Siouxsie's mother telling them that it was late, and that she was heading home.

"Kathy... I have a question."
"Ask it, and I may just give you an answer..."

A brief pause was shared between the two, who stared each other down as much as they could, easily noticing the bags under each others' eyes.

"Why did you leave them?"
Clearly, this was not a question that Kathy wanted to be asked, but she knew it was coming.
"I loved Andi... I really did. And Daniel as well... but--"
"You weren't happy..."
"No... that's not it... I was just stupid. At the time, Daniel was going through money troubles, and I was rather money-hungry and..."
She didn't want to finish it. She instead looked down in her own sense of shame.
"I met someone else, but the longer I stayed with him, the longer I realized that I belonged with Andi and Daniel... but then I found out I was pregnant... and then I left. I didn't want to, but at the time, I didn't think there was anything else that I could do..."

Siouxsie didn't know what to make of the story... she couldn't hate her, because she realized what a mistake she made, but she also still hated her for causing Andi so much grief.

"I think... I'm going to take the guest room," Kathy said.
Siouxsie and Kathy went upstairs, Kathy first. She closed the door slowly behind her, but Siouxsie could her the women slump to the floor, and begin to cry, which she had been hiding, and holding all day.

The only other room left for Siouxsie to sleep in was Andi's room...
She krept in and turned the light on.
Everything was the way it was when he left in the morning. His Placebo shirt on the floor, the unmade bed, the smell of cucumber melon spray that he always bought from Bath and Body works.
She got out of her clothes, and went through one of the drawers, and found clothes there that she kept here, since she stayed the night there so often.

She then went to the unmade bed, followed in Kathy's example.

The house was only given sound by the crying of the two women.
While downstairs, Daniel dreamt of his son.

While, on the other side of the story, Andi dreamt of his family.
He could feel them. And their crying.
As long as he slept, he could be with them.

And in the meantime, one thought ran through his head.
Fucking ay!

He did smile when Vesa mentioned how he was torn. Erenst had been there and done that.

"In all honesty, every day of my life. You just have to roll with what's being thrown at you. It's called the BMW lifestyle; 'by my wits'. Screaming won't help things though. It might attract 'predators', if you catch my meaning."

Ernest grimaced. "I'm almost positive that Felix ran off in the night. Aparently he couldn't take the smell either, but I haven't heard a peep from Alex after his converstion with you. He just disappeared after we finished finding the medication... Truth is,  I'm more worried about Alex going missing, because Felix wasn't really trustworthy and Alex is, and Alex has a sub-machine gun, as opposed to a pistol."

Ernest thought for a moment. I need a godsdamned cellphone to get as many people off this isalnd as possible... and apparently no-one has one on them. Then my only other option is to figure out how to cut off the collars.  There is probably a way to block the radiowaves  from getting to the collars, if that was the trigger mechanism.  It could be that the opposite is true, that if the radiowaves are discontinued, the collars detonate.  DAMMIT! I need more information!

"Hey, do you have a cell phone on you, by any chance?" Ernest honestly hoped that someone had one.

((OOC: Forgive the bad pun, but I don't wanna make this look like a powerplay.  If I've stepped over the line in any way, let me know and I'll clean it up.))


Before Ernest could realize what was happening to him, he was shoved against the wall of the narrow hallway and lifted about six inches off the ground by the collar of his shirt.  There was only one person left in the room that was capable of not only doing it, but with the ease that it was done...and that was Vesa.  He looked up at him, and he was clearly not in the mood for any nonsense.

"You know nothing of what it means to live on the edge!" he shouted, the heavy Scandinavian accent he had giving him an image more akin to a Viking conqueror as he continued lashing out, "You know nothing of regret or...or...or living by your wits as you call it!  Try spending a couple weeks in February north of 66 and then get back with me!"  Vesa's head and arms were shaking as he set Ernest back down a little rougher than he wanted to.

And then it came back to him...


***************


"...And with a minute and fourteen seconds left in the third, Team Finland has decided to call a timeout with the faceoff deep in Canada territory, and down by the score of 2 to 1..."

It was the championship game of the 2006 Junior World Championships in Vancouver, and there was not a seat to be had.  Over 18,000 screaming fans had packed the GM Place for the game between the host nation and the surprise of the tournament, most coming to cheer on the home team as everyone expected Canada to be in the finals.  But no one expected to see Finland in the final, having gone through Russia AND the United States to get to where they were...the semifinal against the Russians was the toughest test for them, overcoming two Evgeni Malkin goals in the first to win 5-3.

And in a world of 18 and 19-year-old prodigies destined for stardom in the NHL, the pride of the Finns was their 16-year-old captain.  He wasn't no coach's son; he earned the honor of wearing the C for his country through sheer and unparalleled skill and determination for a young man his age.  His older teammates looked up to him and admired him in the same breath and it was this that fueled the Finns run to the title game.  He was the center of their top line with his best friend, an 18-year-old by the name of Hannu Setanen, on the right wing.  He wore number 23, and though you couldn't see his name beneath the long, flowing blonde hair that spilled out beneath his helmet, one couldn't help but to say, "That's Turunen...he's gonna be an NHL superstar someday."

And it was Vesa Turunen that would take the faceoff with Setanen to his right and 19-year-old Erkki Tokkarainen on the left.  Staring down his adversary, he put his stick down to signify he was ready for the faceoff, knowing that his team was the visitors in their light blue road sweaters.  The linesman dropped the puck and Vesa fought for it, but lost.

"Shit..." he growled to himself as he retreated to the blue line; the coach had instructed him to do this while Erkki and Hannu went in on the forecheck.  The Canadians were able to get it to center, but a sloppy pass found its way to the stick of Dave Hautamaki; at 6-foot-4 and 235 pounds, he was an imposing figure on the blueline that could skate and throw outlet passes to his forwards better than some professionals.  That was the main reason why the Pittsburgh Penguins used their third-round pick on the 19-year-old that wore number 15 and an A on his jersey.  He was the captain at the start of the European championships before Vesa left for America...and after the tournament in which they beat their nemisis from Sweden in the gold medal game, he voluntarily gave up the captaincy for worlds to Vesa.

Dave put this talent on display as he sent a perfect pass to Erkki, who then dumped it into the Canadian end.

"...Tokkarainen dumps it in to the Canada zone...Barker and Setanen go into the corner to retrieve it...it's fished out onto the stick of Turunen...passes it back to Hautamaki...and you know he's got a big shot..."

Vesa feathered a pass onto Dave's stick at the blue line, who passed it over to his defense partner.  The time was running out as he passed it back to Dave, who wound up to let one of his "extreme" slapshots.

"...Hautamaki with a drive!  Save, Pogge...rebound out in front!"

The goalie made the save, but the puck came out to Hannu, who took a shot.  Another save was made and there was a scramble for the puck.  Another shot was taken and another save made, but the goalie was left in a vulnerable position as more scrambling broke out.  When the puck squirted free, it was scooped up by Vesa and he made no mistake...

"...and another save by Pogge...loose puck out in front, the teams scrambling to gain possession as the Finns get another chance - AND THEY SCORE!  Vesa Turunen gets his second of the game with thirty-three seconds left and the Finns have tied it at 2!"

"Yeah!" he screamed with arms raised high in the air, waiting to get mauled by his teammates.  There was no fist-pumping, no flipping his stick over and playing air guitar, which he did after a spectacular goal against the Americans in which he got around a defender, deked from forehand to backhand to get the goalie down, then moved back to his forehand and lifted the shot over his outstretched glove hand.  Nothing fancy...he would save that for the overtime winner if he were fortunate enough to get it.

But no one scored in the overtime, so it would have to be settled in a shootout.  Five skaters aside, one-on-one with the goaltender.  Vesa had a move that he wanted to try out and now he would get the chance; he had used his brother and the starting goaltender, a right-hand catcher named Kimmo Hortonen...but as he skated over with the lineup sheet, he couldn't help but to give it another glance.

"Last?  Why is Coach putting me last?" he asked himself as he gave the lineup to the referee, then skated back to watch the shootout unfold from the bench.  First up was Hannu; he was expecting that and he didn't disappoint, ripping a shot from the slot over Justin Pogge's glove.  A cheer arose from the Finland bench...just after the one which came after Hortonen turned away Ryan O'Marra.

But the Canadians would even it up with their next shooter while winger Esa Oksanen sailed his shot wide.  The goalies would trade saves in the third round, then the shooters took round four to make the score 2-2.  But when they saw the player in white wearing number 29, the Finns gasped, and Vesa turned to Hannu with a concerned look on his face.

"I knew they were saving Toews for last," murmured Hannu, "he's been killing us all game."  And Jonathan Toews had, netting a goal early in the second to tie the game at one and getting an assist on what would have been the winning goal later that period.  Vesa also knew that if he were to score, then that would put that much more pressure on him to keep the shootout alive as he watched Toews circle around the blue line.

"Here comes Jonathan Toews on goal..."  He came straight in at Kimmo, tossing the puck back and forth until he came to the top of the faceoff circles.  He took a slight turn to his left, which got the goalie to commit, then fired it home through the gap in his pads.  "...score!  Toews beats Hortonen five-hole and the Canadians go up 3-2 with one more shooter left for the Finns!"

Vesa gulped.  He knew that if this happened he would absolutely have to score on Pogge as he got up and hopped over the boards...but not before he was pulled aside by Hannu.

"Ajaa se...AJAA SE, VESA!" (Do it...do it, Vesa!) he told him, "All of Finland is on your shoulders...you're my hero and don't forget it, Vesa."  His teammates tapped their sticks on the boards while a few of them said "C'mon, Katti!" and other forms of encouragement spewed forth.  This would be the biggest moment of his young life...he would either keep his country in the fight, or it would be over and they would have to accept second place.

"...and the hope for Team Finland...now lies on the shoulders of sixteen-year-old Vesa Turunen, who has both of the goals for Finland and leads the tournament with nine goals and seventeen points.  There's no telling what is running through that young man's mind as he stares down Justin Pogge."

Vesa looked at the goalie through the visor attached to his helmet before circling back to where Kimmo was at the top of the circles.  "Just like we worked on, Katti...you can do it!"  A smile and a head bump to his goalie's mask and Vesa was ready, giving the Slovakian-born referee a nod to say he was ready before circling again as the whistle blew.

"...and here we go...Turunen verses Pogge..."  Vesa skated up to accept the puck and immediately broke to his left, building up speed as he crossed the blue line.  "...he's over the line..."  He pulled the puck to his forehand before cutting hard across the slot and putting it onto the backhand.  When he saw Pogge slide with him, that was the break Vesa was looking for and he quickly pulled it back to the forehand and fired the puck over his blocker.  Vesa knew he had beaten him...but then he heard the sound that would end up haunting him ever since he heard it.  It was the sound of vulcanized rubber hitting cold steel as the puck hit the crossbar and ricocheted toward the corner as the crowd screamed.

"...Oh, he hit the crossbar!  Turunen hit the crossbar!  The Canadians hang on to win the 2006 Junior World Championship 3 to 2 in a shootout over Finland!"

As soon as the reaction from the crowd hit his ears, Vesa dropped to his knees, then onto his stomach as if he had taken a shot to the face.  His teammates immediately skated to where he came to rest to find him with his head buried in his arms and crying.  It would become an image that would well-known throughout Finland in a short amount of time, drawing a mixed reaction.

"...and for the Finns, you have to wonder what could have been, especially for Vesa Turunen...I can't help but to feel for that poor young man.  He's been the pride of that squad and has carried this team on his shoulders...and there is Turunen lying face-down  by the faceoff dot to the right of the goal, the Finns all over there to console their captain and leader..."


***************


Vesa's eyes turned back to look down at Ernest as tears began to trickle down his cheeks.  He did not break down and begin crying like he did that night in Vancouver as he continued to stare him down.  "Or try carrying the weight of your entire nation and letting it down...just an inch lower and we would've still been alive.  Do that for me and I just might listen...but until then, don't tell me how to live my life!"  And Vesa turned to start back toward the door.

(OOC: No worries! Ernest isn't really capable of resisting anyone in melee at this point in time, so that's about what would happen . )

Ernest rubbed his neck. Vesa was clearly working out a few internal issues. At first, it seemed a bit odd that he'd take it all out on Ernest, but it could be that Vesa just had a pretty damn short fuse, as ridiculous as it may sound. At this point, it would probably be a decent time to tell the  Swede a little about himself. Or at least, a bit of a white lie to calm him down. Telling Vesa about the insaniy that had possessed Ernest since childhood would only make the albino more of a threat. Hodgkins disease on the other hand, was a lot less stigmatic in the game.  Ernest reached out and pulled Vesa around to face him.

"North of 66, huh? That's a hockey term, right? So you were on your national hockey team at one point and I'm assuming you lost an important game for the team," Ernest smiled an odd little half-smile,  "Well, I'm sorry for upsetting you, and my advice is never meant to tell you how to run your life. Merely to provide another's opinion of what some of your many options are.

" But please, I would suggest that feeling sorry for yourself and yelling out randomly do not make a great survival strategy. Does hockey so dominate your life that you can't live if you fail once? You've got a chip on your shoulder, well, great for you!  Get back to me when you've written your Last Will and Testament.

"I die in sixty-seven hours, give or take this insipid little hellhole we got thrust into." Ernest allowed his jaw to clamp up and turned back into the hall, "Assuming you'll be around here in a few hours, You'll get to see me "go north of 66"."

Ernest hoped his bluff would go through, without much inspection. It was unlikely that Vesa really would listen to his little story. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his last pill. The ghost in the albino studied it a little.  It contained the last sanity that Ernest would ever see.  As tired as he was, the Albino knew that he needed to savor every last drop of life.  He quietly put the pill case away, and coughed  as he "accidently" swallowed pit down the wrong pipe. Everything was falling apart. No-one really wanted to get off the island. They all had to work out their emotional issues on each other, before any coherent planning could happen. It was stupid and ridiculous. Humanity could be so idiotic sometimes, which made him glad that he hadn't considered himself a "human" in years.

Humans run through these stupid little mazes built by other inmates from other mazes, and yet they all believe outselves to be free. If there was no maze they would be lost, without direction. They build these mazes to protect themselves from freedom, because true freedom is far too terrible for the feebleminded masses created by this mass culture. Ernest noticed that his finger print was  a whorl on his thumn and an arch on his index finger.
How interesting...

Vesa began to snicker coldly as he stepped back away from the door and walked back toward Ernest with a wide grin on his face.  "You know nothing..." he muttered, low and deep, "There is a place that I hold fondly to my heart...a town in northern Lappi called Kittilä.  67 degrees, 39 minutes north and 24 degrees, 53 minutes east...that's north of 66 for you.  I have relatives with a cottage there...it is where me and my brothers would ski the trails and have friendly biathlons amongst each other."

He continued to pace toward Ernest, passing him up as he ducked into one of the exam rooms, opening a cabinet to look for something of use to him.  "Are you familiar with something called the Arctic Circle?"  Vesa didn't wait for a response before moving over Ernest again, staring him dead in the eye.  "Last February...no, the one before that, while I was still living in Finland...my father decided to bring me and my yonger brother to the cottage.  And let me tell you something..."  The towering Finn couldn't help but to lower himself so that he was face-to-face with him, bumping foreheads as he eyed him directly.  "...when you don't see the light of day for three whole months, let alone ten days in a row...it does things to ya, mate..."

After he was done with that little heart-to-heart, Vesa began to rummage again, though he was quick to find what he was looking for as he smiled.  But the last comment that Ernest made...about the game he loved so much having dominion over his life...set something off within Vesa that he froze right there in his tracks.  "Maybe the kid's right," he thought to himself, "Maybe I've taken hockey a bit more seriously than I used to...now that I've got scouts after me like lions chasing down an antelope.  Maybe I'll loosen up when I go back home and join Aki on Kärpät...and then the year after that when I arrive in Minnesota..."  But then Vesa shook out his head as he stuffed two rolls of medical tape into his pack and started making his way toward the door.

"Even with the very best players in the entire world...the goalie stops them eight out of ten times," he told him, "but do they stop shooting?  Failure is inevitable, Ernest...it was just that particular time when I had to come through...I felt like I had let all of Suomi down after hitting that crossbar.  That's the thing about international competition...you're not just playing for your teammates out there...you're representing your country as one of the twenty-one best players in your age group.  Think about that for a moment, Ernest..."  Vesa turned and walked back toward the door, opening it up, but not before he turned to look back at the scraggly boy that he had befriended, plotted with and just recently roughed up.  "But until then..."  He snickered again as the words left his mouth.  "...te osata ei ensinkään..." (...you know nothing...)  Then Vesa stepped out and let the door close behind him.

((Continued from Fighting for Something You Already Lost))

Matthew ran for quite some time. Barely ever taking the time to rest, he just kept running, until it felt as if his legs were broken, and aching. But he finally managed to make it to the hospital, and got there in time to witness a blonde guy walk away, but hid to make sure that he was out of sight.

As soon as he thought that the blonde one was away, he decided to come out of the shadows, and make his way into the hospital and, hopefully, rest his weary legs.

MEANWHILE...

He didn't know how long he was out cold for, but Andi finally woke from his somewhat drug-induced sleep. He looked around, but his eyesight was a little blurry, and immediately got up from his spot, and left the room he was in, not caring for the other people around. He slowly walked. Slowly.
Slowly.


Slowly.

Then eventually his eyesight became clear second-by-second, until he could see clearly. He walked around for a little bit to clear his head  little bit. He was half expecting the bitch in the golden dress to return, but if she were to, it would have happened by now.

"Wow, I guess whatever that jerk gave me worked."
He still wasn't entirely happy with the fact that he was shacking up with people who don't trust him, and for a majority of the time referred to him as just the kid with a sickle. Rather insulting, really.

He made his way into a room that seemed to have a few medications. Pills, injections, although limited, were still there. He took a bottle full of what looked like morphine and put it in his pocket. Never know when you might need pain killers, seeing as how you may very well get shot on this island.

That's when he looked outside a nearby window and saw a tall, and amazingly attractive, guy checking out the area of the hospital, and making his way towards it. With a gun, no less.

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw... this is NOT going to be a good day."