Survival Of The Fittest

Bobby chuckled when Shane spoke up. If he was going to try to cheat, he wouldn't do it any where near as transparently as that. He'd already shot Bobby twice, he knew that he was wearing a bulletproof vest, hoping Shane would forget was just plain stupid.

"Well I though it might counterbalance your natural armour," Bobby told Shane blandly, a clear knock to the other's rather portly self. "But if you insist, I'll take off my vest," at that point the British guy - Bobby had no idea who he was and cared even less, decided to explode with a torrent of verbal abuse, which he proceeded to ignore entirely.

Hold on a second... isn't that...?

Bobby smirked as he realised that the kid was the same guy he had shot in the arm at the Mess Hall the previous day. Obviously he had no idea it was Bobby that had done it, and the boxer... well, he'd prefer keep it that way, since he suspected the kid wouldn't take too kindly to the knowledge that Bobby had attempted to kill him.

"I'm setting this up precisely because I don't want a huge fight to break out," Bobby said calmly. "In case you forgot, that guy tried to kill me a couple of minutes ago - you think I'm just going to laugh that off because I happened to be wearing a vest at the time? Hell no," Bobby turned around to look at Neil, probably the most level headed guy in the vicinity. "Don't worry, if he doesn't want to play then I'm not going to force him. If I can I'll try and move this further away so you don't have to be bothered by it... if he says no, I'll move along. After this is all done with... if I win, I'll leave all the same. This isn't about playing the game. This is personal,"

Once again, somebody interrupted him, causing him to frown in annoyance. Bobby's temper wasn't at the best right now, it was probably all those guns being pointed at him and bullets being fired. Bobby looked over at Dominica and tried to communicate his feelings through a glare. Who used a gun to get attention in a situation like this?

"I said I'd take it out of this immediate area. Central barracks, so you guys don't have to get involve and there's no risk of being caught in the crossfire," Bobby took off his shirt, then the bulletproof vest - although he still held it in front of him in case of foul play. Then again, he was inside and in cover, so people would be hard pressed to take a potshot. "So Shane. What do you say? Let's settle this,"

Matt followed Neil and Dominica at a rather comfortable pace. His knee wasn't hurting as much as before, but the pain was still somewhat lingering. He winced when he stepped in a small ditch, as it caused a rush of painful sensations up his leg. He really hated Blood Boy right now. The bastard just had to make it hard for him, even after they finished him off. He sighed and continued to follow.

Dominica shot up into the air and yelled at the two quarrelling boys. Matt didn't give fuck all about either of them really. He didn't want to hear anymore shooting though. He touched Dominica's arm and gave her a look that told her to calm down. They soon met up with Dane, who seemed to have just arrived, and followed Neil into one of the barracks.

Dominica wanted to leave the area, deeming it unsafe and too open. Matt had to agree. This place was a breeding ground for unneeded interruptions. He really wanted to get his wounds treated though, and laying down would have felt like heaven, but whatever Neil decided, he'd follow.

Mark seemed to have considered what Denise said to him, since he hadn't made a move to leave again. But after watching Shane look calculatingly at his gun, she wasn't so sure she wanted to stick around either.

"Do you know what you're doing with that? Having killed, I think Bobby has a good handle on his gun; better than you, I'd bet. You're high if you think you'd win."

Fuck...he is high!

He was a king size version of her younger brother, attitude-wise. Which was probably why Denise even bothered wasting her breath trying to convince him not to get his stupid brains blown out. She sighed.

"Shane...you gotta take care of yourself here if you don't want to die. You do what you want, but I've got a baby girl back home and hell if I'm sticking around while you go getting yourself killed."

Lowering her voice, Denise went on. "Listen man, we can get out of this. We'll cook that rabbit I've got. There has to be another way out of here. Right, Mark? We'll all have a nice dinner tonight."

She hoped Shane's munchies were stronger than his bloodlust.

((Apologies for barging in, folks. There's nowhere non-dangerzone-y that doesn't have a topic going. D:))

((B111 Start))

Often times, when a human mind undergoes a trauma it cannot handle, the mind blocks that memory out, as a defense mechanism. That was what the world felt like to Arthur Williams. He remembered bits and pieces of the last few days, running from dangerzones, stepping in the cranial matter of his former classmates, it all seemed so surreal. And what had Arty done for the last week? Run. He had run, and he had avoided the others. A weapon had not been gifted to him, rather, a cell phone was his tool, locked out with a 4-digit code and turned off, his bargaining chip, should the need arise. The battery was hidden elsewhere, somewhere it would most likely be destroyed, were Arty attacked.

But, the past was not on the under-aged teen's mind as he approached the loud conflict coming from the barracks. He limped deliberately, right ankle sprained and hard to walk on. I really shouldn't be going towards there... what if a firefight breaks out? Then he'd hope the winner was feeling generous, and that he didn't get clipped by a ricochet. But, there were others there. At least three or four distinct voices. Surely, with so many people, they wouldn't mind one more. One more eating their food, using up their supplies, and standing between them and victory...

True, he could be killed on sight. The limping, starving young man would not look like a threat, but if they were hungry enough, he would look like a meal. Arthur himself had been made to eat the flesh of another, his choice between survival and starvation. I ate his body, and drank his blood... like a barbarian... No, barbarians defeated their foes. Arthur was no barbarian. He was no predator. He was a vulture, picking up after the victories of others.

A root caught Arthur's foot, and sent him to the ground, breaking his scattered and unprocessed thoughts. His mind had been going in a hundred different directions, rather than the one it needed to. Survival. The Williams kid tried to pick himself up, but the fall had aggravated his injury, and his left leg refused to support weight. He was completely stranded. "Help!" Arty cried out without thinking, desperate for... something. Maybe rescue, maybe death. Just... not what he was in. No more agony. "Please, somebody help! Help me! I-I can be of use to you! I have a cell phone!" Maybe they would help him if he had something they wanted. Or maybe I'll lie here screaming until someone comes out to shut me up... Arthur's cries were desperate, terrified. He didn't want to die. Apathy and nihilism aside, he still desired life. "Please...!"

Neil Sinclair walked into the barracks and looked around. It was empty, and while he could hear the conflict going on outside, it was now some distance from the building he was in. They could block that situation out for now. If he had heard Arthur shouting for help, he would have helped him, but he didn't hear the boy. He only heard shouts and talking that all blended together into noise.

Noise Neil Sinclair wanted to, and needed to block out.

As he walked in the barracks, he turned to see which of S.A.D.D and any other potential new recruits had followed him. He saw Dominica and Matthew. This would be the time to get them patched up. Hurrying over to them Neil dropped his stuff on the ground and said to them, "Come on guys, we'll get those wounds of yours fixed up."

Neil said to everyone else who had followed him, "Help me treat their wounds. Then we can focus on our new plan of escape."

"Aren't we supposed to be inside?" Warren asked quizzically. Instead of going into the building, Quincy had taken Warren out back while the rest of S.A.D.D. was distracted by Shane and Bobby.

Quincy nodded. "We'll get to that in a minute," he said calmly. Warren couldn't help but feel apprehensive with that tone of voice. "But don't you have something to say to me first?"

Warren sighed. He knew he'd have to do this sooner or later, and it was in his best interest to get it out of the way now. "Quincy, I'm sorry. I should never have abandoned you like that."

Quincy raised an orange eyebrow. "And?"

Warren hung his head. "I shouldn't have dumped you into that garbage can."

"Why?" Quincy asked. Warren noticed that he looked quite gaunt, almost skeletal. There were bags under his reddened eyes, his hair was ragged, and his lips were razor-thin. Was Quincy always this unnerving? It had been so long since Warren had last spoke to him that it was hard to remember.

He gulped and continued talking in a barely audible whisper. "I was your only friend, and turning on you like that did things to you, crushed your, your spirit." He looked worriedly at the corner of the barracks, where the other members were surely gathering without them.

"Good," Quincy replied. "Now tell me why you did it, Warren."

Warren glared at Quincy. His old friend was allowed to be angry, but there were more important things to be done today. "I really don't seeeeeeee!"

In a flash, the scrawny British kid's left sneaker made contact with Warren's groin, causing the football player to bend over and collapse on the ground. Quincy stood over him with his hands balled into whitened fists and all pretenses of humor wiped from his face, leaving a bitter, wide-eyed grimace on his face, as if he were Edmund Dantes, towering over the crumpled form of one of his objects of vengeance.

"Now here's what's going to happen," Quincy explained in a sharp whisper, as Warren strained to look up at him from his distorted vision. "We both want to stay in this group very badly; me because of safety in numbers and you because you're a pathetic, lonely wretch. So we're going to pretend that we've reconciled for the sake of appearances. But make no mistake, Warren Pace, I hate you with every fiber of my being, and it will take more than a few words to make me change my mind on that issue. Is that clear?"

"Yes..." Warren wheezed, still out of breath and surprised that Quincy had caused the bigger boy so much pain, never mind the fact that he actually had the nerve to kick a boy at least twice his weight in the nuts. What the fuck did I put you through?

Quincy nodded and began heading around the building to the front. He walked in on Neil explaining the need to fix Dominica and Matthew. "Alright, Grunge Man, I guess I can give it a shot." He cracked open his first aid kit and got out some bandages, not even bothering to look when Warren limped onto the scene with thighs clamped shut and tears streaming down his face.

They were ignoring him. Completely. Honestly, Arthur wasn't really all that surprised. No one had ever reached out to the teen before, why would they start now? I'm on my own here. The first few times that Arty had felt like this, the realization had hit him like a ton of bricks. Now, his mind just went to work. But, rather than how to avoid contact with his rejectors, as he always had, he began to think of how to make them accept him, or at least take him in.

Arty's eyes searched the nearby area for anything he could use as a cane. There was nothing suitably long. So, he did all that was left, he crawled. Pulling himself along the ground with his arms, Arthur Williams was able to get to the entrance of the barracks and, dirt-covered, exhausted, and bleeding, brace himself against the wall. Through all of this, he had been listening to the conversation (and arguments) within. Names came up. Names he had heard before. On the announcements. S.A.D.D.

Arthur was able to get enough support on the wall to lift himself, getting up on his feet (er, foot) on his second try. He limped in through the doorway, fully aware that they were as likely to gun him down as listen to him speak. "Y-You want out... out of this game?" He, panted asking no one, and everyone. "I may... be able to help."

Dominica watched Neil as he rushed around trying to patch her up. A stranger caring for someone who has been severely injured wasn't entirely unusual but Dominica was still very surprised. She propped her body against the inner wall of the building, sighing loudly. She coughed delicately. It seems that Dominica had been hit with a bad cold though she was trying her best not to let anyone else know.

"Thank you Neil," she quietly told her fearless leader, trying to wipe her nose quickly with the sleeve of her wet shirt. "I mean it. I don't know what I would do without you around. I'd probably be- *achoo*- ahh! Excuse me!" She wiped her nose again, groaning disgustedly.

Quincy (a boy she had always found annoying in a way) and Warren (a boy Dominica never particularly cared for) wandered into the cabin. She gave the first boy a shifty-eyed glance before looking over to Warren and noticed that he was limping. Hmm... I wonder why he's walking like that? Did he get hurt too? I don't really care about the boy but.... I feel as though I should say something.

"Hey... should we look at him?" she motioned to Warren, his name escaping her for the moment. "He's looking battered-"

"Y-You want out... out of this game?"

A voice that Dominica couldn't remember. The suddenness of the call as well as her (slowly decreasing) paranoia caused her to pull out her pistol without any hesitation. The boy certainly wasn't someone that she new, but he didn't have a gun pulled out either. She relaxed instantly but still had her gun pulled and it's safety unlocked.

"That depends..." she stared at the boy. "I've only got two questions for you: 'Who are you?' and 'what weapon do you have?'."

Arty froze almost instantly, his fairy bold statement slammed shut by the unbinking stare of a gun barrel. The wielder wasn't tense, but the weapon was still leveled at his head. Arthur's words were caught in his throat, emerging as an uncertain stutter. "A-... I-...." Uncertain syllables stumbled and fell out of his lips, incomprehensible to even himself. "A-Arthur Williams... T-the... quiet kid... in the library..." Arty finally choked up, sweat beading on his forehead. If you're going to get noticed, you have to speak up. Now, swallow your fear, you dumb fuck. The self-depricating inner monologue was enough to make Arty speak clearly.

Shakily, the teen reached into his back pocket, shakily pulling his "weapon" out, presenting it to the armed female. "N-not exactly a firearm..." There was a great deal of fear in Arthur's eyes, but the loner kept himself composed. "I-It won't be as easy... as just dialing 9-1-1..." He had to be careful how he phrased his next sentence. Can't make it sound too hopeless, but I can't give any false promises, either. "B-but it could be the difference... that gets us off this rock..."

Matt smiled at Neil as he started to rush and patch them up. He sat down on one of the cots and awaited his turn to be treated. The wounds weren't hurting as much as they did before, but he figured that was because he's gotten used to the feeling. It still hurt, mind you, but just not with the same intensity. A bullet to the arm was a bullet to the arm. That shit hurt.

He watched as Quincy Archer (a boy he'd spoken to on occasion), and Warren Peace (The boy from outside the tower, just before Nathanial had arrived), entered the barracks. Warren seemed to be limping, and Dominic suggested that they take a look at him as well, in case he was injured.

He was about to speak up, but a voice calling out to the group caught his attentions first. Dominica pulled out her gun and pointed it at the strange boy. Matt vaguely recognized him from school, but he couldn't place a name. Dominica ordered the boy to state his name and weapon. Matt felt bad… the boy didn't seem to be at all a threat. But then again, you could never be too careful. He placed the spear gun on the cot, and looked over to the boy, waiting on his response.

His name was Arthur Williams, and his weapon happened to be a cell phone. Matt smiled. The phone might be a very useful addition to their group. It was hardly Matt's decision to add the boy to the group though. He looked to Neil to see their leader's reaction.

Hannah made it to the barracks building that SADD was regrouping in. She almost stopped on her way over when she had heard Arthur crying for help, but instead sighed and kept going.

I did my good deed for today. I'm no hero, I just want to live.

As she went inside she found herself panting heavily, more than she should've been judging by the short run. She wasn't surprised, though. She was utterly exhausted. All she wanted to do is just try and get some sleep, but she couldn't allow herself to do that. Not yet. It looked like SADD was going to go on the move soon, and she didn't want to get left behind when they did.

As she heard Neil tell the others to help them treat the wounded, she spoke up. "I-" She stopped when Quincy and Warren stepped in, Quincy offering to help. She decided to wait a moment, looking around the room and getting a look at who she was surrounded by.

Neil. She remembered that he was a guitarist for some punk band back home, though she had never really paid him any mind, not being a fan of punk.

Matthew. She had always been amused by his uncanny ability to get a story no matter where it was, and had always found him to be a rather interesting person.

Dominica. Another person she never paid much attention to. The shy, quiet types never really interested her.

She looked back towards the building she was in previously. Dorian. Definitely an odd one. She always had an interest in the odd ones, probably because she was sort of one herself.

She finally decided that she should try and help the wounded now. All that first aid knowledge she had in her head would go to waste otherwise, and mainly, the more she helped the group out, the better her chances were of being taken in.

Just as she was about to speak up, the injured boy from outside suddenly appeared in the door, and Hannah tensed as Dominica pulled a gun on him. When he brought out the phone, though, she loosened up. At least he doesn't seem to be a threat... She thought to herself. And besides, a phone just might come in handy if they were to escape from the island.

The kid who Bobby had challenged - whatever his name was, didn't bite, which was a shame. He would have liked to have exacted a bit of revenge on the guy for ... well, shooting him. But you couldn't get everything you wanted, and he was hardly about to take another potshot at the guy purely for the sake of a grudge. Granted if he wasn't wearing a bullet proof vest he would be dead right about now, but he was and he wasn't, so it didn't matter.

Besides which... Bobby was getting on edge. The guy had loudly declared to the people around that they would regret not killing him, and that served to make Bobby notice that there were a lot of guns being waved around right about now. Neil had told S.A.D.D not to shoot... but would they listen to him? More importantly, what if he had been trying to deceive Bobby? Did he honestly believe those guys would be willing to let a guy who had murdered four people get away scott free?

It was too good to be true.

Bobby pulled his bulletproof vest back on, not bothering to put it underneath his shirt this time. What would be the point? It was so wet the bulky kevlar would be immediately seen anyway, there was little point in concealing it. Besides, his shirt would just be an extra layer for any bullets which managed to go through the vest to go through. Granted if it went through the vest it'd go through his shirt as well, but every increment the bullet was slowed by would be invaluable...

Bobby didn't even speak, just edged away. He walked out of the building he was inside and headed discretely away, past the entrance to one of the other barrack buildings as he did so.

(OOC: Sorry this took so long. I barely did anything the last few days, needed some downtime after driving back from LA.)

Even if Denise hadn't mentioned the rabbit, Shane would have agreed with her. At this point in time he was fucked up in every sense of the word, and vest or no vest, unless Jebus came down from the sky and struck Bobby Jacks blind, there was no way he'd win that duel.

"Shit," Shane muttered, "I'm sorry, Denise. I have no idea what I was thinking. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't even want Mark to get hurt."

He turned to the window and raised his voice.

"Yo Bobby! How about a rain check on that duel?"

No answer.

"...Bobby?"

Still nothing. Shane hoped like fuck that Bobby had left the area.

Neil turned as Dominica had her gun pointed on a newcomer. He stated he could help them get off this island. If that was true, he would be a valuable asset to S.A.D.D. Neil looked him over, it was Arthur and he really didn't look threatening at all. That combined with the fact that his name hasn't been mentioned yet on the announcements helped Neil trust him.

Then there was another girl who entered the building. Hannah something. Neil didn't know much about her, he never really talked to her. Though she also didn't appear to be threatening and she wasn't listed as a killer.

So Neil Sinclair didn't move his M16 into a threatening position, he only looked at all the newcomers and said, "Ok, this play is getting way to crowded. We're going to have to move out soon to regroup. Where's Dorian out?"

Neil was starting to feel the burdens of leading S.A.D.D. He wanted to help everyone, to make sure everyone got out safely. Though ever since the lookout tower, S.A.D.D's been scattered and disorganized. It surely wasn't like the good old days. So Neil was going to have to move S.A.D.D soon again. Hopefully to someplace more quiet where they could start to plan their next attack against Danya's systems. It appeared that they were already making in impact, with Danya even calling Neil out on the announcements. That was a good sign. Despite the 4 deaths that S.A.D.D caused indirectly because of their antics.

So Neil was about to speak when he heart the speakers boom.

"SHORYUKEN!"

Neil looked around. What was that? Neil listened but when nothing else followed he assumed it was just Danya messing with the students' heads.

"Alright everyone, let's calm down. Everyone who's in S.A.D.D or wants to join, raise your hand or something cause we're moving out soon. I don't want to be here any longer, and we need to find someplace quiet to organize again."

Neil went over to the door of the barracks and shouted out.

"S.A.D.D get over here now! If you want to join or already are in, we're moving out soon!"

"SHORYUKEN!"

Warren raised his hand and shook it vigorously. He could feel the pain in his crotch receding, so he began to stand more normally. "I'm in, and I think Quincy is, too. It sounds like we've got a pretty good deal here, what with Andrew's phone and all. Dunno where we could go, though; it might be better if we hole up in one of the buildings... unless someone comes and tosses a grenade. Um, damn."

He was interrupted by a soft chuckling from Quincy. He turned around and saw him grinning widely. "You alright, man?"

"God bless you, Jack O'Connor," Quincy mumbled, his smile widening. Warren stepped back, thoroughly creeped out by his friend's behavior.

"Um, dude, we're leaving," Warren said uneasily. "Are you alright?"

Quincy blinked and looked around, blushing slightly. "Oh. Yeah, I'm alright, mate. Just dandy. Leaving this place might be a good idea, once we get Matthew and Dominica fixed up. Any ideas on where to go?" he asked the others.

I can't believe my luck. Someone actually brought Jack's virus back online! I could - dare I say it - get out of here without having to kill anyone!