Survival Of The Fittest

Ivan had been lying on the table, unconscious, for a long time. As he began to regain consciousness, he twisted and turned, falling off onto the ground. "Uuuu..." To him the floor was not kind. He heard the announcements, and roused enough energy to pull himself up off the floor, to which he immediately stumbled into a wall. "Uuuowuwhywhat..." Ivan muttered quietly to himself. He had a pounding headache and was still extremely tired.

*SHORYUKEN!* something blazed through the speakers, startling Ivan. The sound echoed through the room, hitting Ivan like a hammer. Outside, he thought, was better. He needed fresh air. Using the wall to keep his balance, he edged his way to the door and went outside, stumbling forward and falling into Bobby as the guy walked past.

"Uuhmsorrybouthacan'thm" Ivan mumbled, still half asleep, completely unaware of the things that had happened at while he was knocked out.

((Ladies and gentlemen, I declare this thread... chaotic. I know this might go against the grain of the characters a little bit but if it's at all possible can you try not to interfere too much with what's going on? (besides obligatory gun-pointing of course) because there's two characters to kill here and it will get really messy if people do whatever. Kthnx.))

Fuck!

Bobby was too late, they'd already made their move. He knew he shouldn't have allowed himself to get distracted by that duelling shit... well, there was only one thing to do. Whoever had made the attempt had managed to botch it and merely blundered heavily into him, for that, he was going to pay quite the price.

He spun around, driving his elbow at Ivan's face, whilst simultaneously going for his scalpel with his gun-less left hand. If the attack should land, with Ivan briefly dazed by the hardshot, Bobby would put the scalpel to Ivan's throat and thrust out the SIG underneath his armpit, giving him a human shield. Luckily, it seemed Bobby had moved to the point where there was nobody between him and the treeline, so he didn't have to worry about people getting behind him.

"Move asshole," Bobby snarled to Ivan, pressing the tip of his weapon against the guy's neck. It was nothing personal, but whatever S.A.D.D was trying to pull... well, he couldn't allow it to work, not after he'd killed four people to get this far. Bobby raised his voice and called out. "Well S.A.D.D, it was a nice try, although you probably should have got somebody who doesn't punch like a girl," all the while he was speaking, Bobby was edging backwards, closer and closer to safety,pulling Ivan with him. "It's been fun, but I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave,"

Your move Sinclair. This needn't get any bloodier than it already is...

Dorian was roused from his meandering thoughts by the blaring of the announcements. Was that...Japanese? Dorian had never really indulged in video games; between immense loads of schoolwork and volunteering, he'd never had the time. As a result, the Street Fighter reference was completely lost on him. All it managed to do was confuse him, but he passed it off as some feeble attempt of Danya's to startle the remaining students and shook it off.

What really got his attention was the fact that Ivan seemed to be stirring on the table, and soon afterward had rolled right off and onto the floor. The boy had been unconscious for hours now, and his sudden awakening came as a surprise. Before Dorian had a chance to react or help him up, though, Ivan was already stumbling out into the open yard.

"Hey Ivan, wait!" Dorian called after him, walking outside just in time to see him bump into Bobby Jacks. Dorian took a step back in response, but before he could muster up another word, Bobby had already attacked Ivan and pulled him in close, holding him at gunpoint.

"Oh God, no..."

Dorian stood motionless, staring at the somewhat incapacitated Ivan. In the back of his mind he still wondered how his classmates could have transformed into such cutthroat killers in less than a week, but that thought was quickly pushed away by his concern for Ivan's safety. Something didn't sit well with him. This situation couldn't end well; these types of things never did.

"L-let him go, Bobby..."

Neil was so focused on trying to get everyone together he wasn't aware that Ivan was outside and bumped into Bobby. Though he heard the short scuffle, and when he heard Bobby mention S.A.D.D's name, Neil Sinclair made his way to the door of the barracks, his M16 aimed. What he saw caused his stomach to drop.

Bobby Jacks had Ivan hostage.

Neil saw Dorian in his peripheral vision and looked at Bobby. There was nothing Neil Sinclair could do. He may have an assault rifle, but Bobby had Ivan as a shield. Neil couldn't shoot, couldn't do anything. He leaned out from the door of the barracks, his M16 aimed, letting the rest of the building shield him in case there was to be a shootout.

"What are you doing Bobby!? Leave him go! We let you go, now just go! No one has to die here."

Neil didn't want anyone to die. He was already covered in Corbin's blood. After what had happened at the lookout tower, Neil didn't want to have to deal with another fight. It was pointless, and he only wanted to focus on regrouping S.A.D.D. He wanted to find another area to organize. To escape.

He shouldn't be here aiming his M16 at a killer who had an innocent boy hostage.

SHORYUKEN! The recluse nearly wet himself with fright at the sudden noise, though once he was done panicking, Arthur quickly recognized the sound. Regardless, it was not dismissed as harmless for several seconds. N-no one's picking on me... I might actually be let in! A lull moment passed, a blissful, torment-free moment, with semi-normal conversation going on, and Arty began to let down his guard. Bad idea.

Everything registered simultaneously for Arthur Williams. The half-asleep stumble into a clearly psychotic individual, the reflexive, weapon-drawn response, and the reality of a hostage situation. My God... he's serious... He'll kill him! Some people are all talk, but fail to perform when it really matters. Arty was not that kind of person. Whenever the chips were down, whenever someone depended on him, Arthur Williams was a tenacious demon, as though he were saving up all his self-confidence and bravery for when it was truly needed. It was needed. No more blood!

Arty yanked the phone battery out of his pocket, put it in the phone, and thrusted the now-working cellular at Dominica, who would hopefully grab it, rather than let it fall. "The code's one three nine one." No time to wait for a response. He turned, bent, and dashed at both hostage and murderer, and dove, intending to bring them both down by the legs, hopefully knocking Ivan free. No more blood!

No more blood!

SHORYUKEN!

Hannah nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard that noise, looking around frantically for the source. Because of that, she was probably one of the first ones to spot Bobby as he walked by. Oh my God...w-what is he doing over here!? It took Hannah a moment to register that he didn't seem to be paying much attention to them, and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he's just leaving like he said...

Then all hell broke loose, as Hannah watched the boy she had just saved earlier stumble out of the building he was in and right into Bobby, Bobby taking it as a hostile action and taking him hostage, and the whole thing turning into another standoff. No...NO! This was supposed to be over already!

As Arthur tossed Dominica the cell phone and dashed out to try and break Ivan free, Hannah dove for cover, curling up and trembling uncontrollably, clutching her hat to her chest. The utter exhaustion, coupled with the compounded stress she was feeling ever since she stepped foot on the barracks, left her about to crack. "I can't take this anymore...I just want to go home..."

"Not my fault your hitman wasn't competent to take me out Sinclair," Bobby called out. "I should have known you wouldn't just let me go. Don't try to deny it, I know what he was trying to do," by this point Bobby wasn't even seeing reason at all, he'd managed to convince himself they were trying to take him out, and nothing anybody said was going to make him see reason. After all, if your plan had been rumbled, wouldn't you deny all knowledge of it?

Bobby just kept moving back all the while, getting closer to the elusive escape with every passing second. If he reached the treeline, nobody would be able to stop him. He doubted anyone would be in the mood to pursue him through the jungle, especially when they had such a large group. Even if they did want to put up a chase, it was such a densely wooded area that they'd quickly lose sight of him, and the rain put paid to any notions of tracking.

He locked eyes with Neil Sinclair, knowing with surety that he wouldn't take the shot. The guy had obviously been through some shit, but he wouldn't dare to try and kill him, not with Ivan in the way. Bobby doubted he'd have the balls or the accuracy to go for a headshot, and even so, the boxer believed he'd see that coming and be able to duck down - the notch up in aiming would be easily evident.

Come on... you're right Sinclair, nobody needs to die. Just don't do anything stupid.

Bobby let out a tiny noise of surprise when somebody burst out of one of the barracks and hurled himself towards them. Bobby doubted he'd been ordered to do it, the guy was just making a rescue attempt.

No heroes. Bobby thought sadly. This would have ended well if it wasn't for some fool trying to do the right thing... I don't think there is a right thing any longer.

The boxer brought his SIG Sauer to bear. He was no marksman, and one-handed wasn't a good way to aim at the best of times, but the target was so close it might as well have been point-blank. Aiming for the head, Bobby expelled his breath and pulled the trigger.

Part of Dominica wanted to care what happened to Ivan. For the most part, she was willing to let Ivan be killed if it saved the rest of them. She appeared from behind the door, peaking out at the situation placed by the cabin. Her lips curled up, rather annoyed of the situation.

"He's not ours," she said, showing absolute apathy. "You want to kill him, knock yourself out. Just let the rest go, we've got no tidings in it. If you leave now, then I don't care what you do."

This was how Dominica thought. Ivan was stupid enough to get in Bobby's way, and there was no reason why anyone else should have to suffer. She shrugged, holding her pistol up. Can't say that I don't feel that I should do something about Ivan's predictament, but I'm not going to let myself or anyone else get killed just to save one life. It's pointless, truly pointless.

That was until Arthur decided to play hero.

Dominca jumped, grabbing ahold of Arthur's phone. "No you fool, stay back here!" She whispered, grimacing trying to make a grab at him before he wandered out. Oh boy... now we've done it...

Matt hobbled over to where all the action was going on with the help of the spear gun. He watched with wide eyes as Bobby took Ivan hostage, and went complete psycho about the kid shooting him. He thought that Neil had tried to assassinate him or something. This situation was all kinds of fucked up.

Dominica didn't help the situation any either with her complete apathy when it came to Ivan's life. And Matt seriously doubted Neil would shoot with Ivan in the way. Matt didn't know what to do.

It was then that Arthur ran out of the barracks, throwing his phone to Dominica, and charging at Bobby and Ivan. Did he have a death wish or something? Matt watched as Bobby pointed the gun at Arthur.

"Wait! Don-" But it was too late. Bobby fired.

Arthur wasn't thinking when he charged. Hadn't been thinking of those around him, of the weapons in their hands, or in Bobby's. All that he was thinking of was Ivan. Someone he didn't even know, and he was playing hero to save him. There was no fear in Arty's mind, and no register of pain from his ankle. In fact, if Arty had survived, he probably wouldn't have realized he was shot. But, he was.

The round pierced his skull, bone caving under the pressure. He was still standing when the bullet came out the back of his head, bringing with it the majority of his cranial matter, which splattered on the ground behind him. The conflict of momentums caused his body to spin a few times before it fell, limbs flung out to the side. It would have been comical were it not so disturbing.

Arty's head, now void of its contents, bounced as it hit the dirt, blood leaking out freely. There had been no time for last words, or last thoughts. A recluse, a loner, had simply put aside his fear in order to help another, and had paid the ultimate price for it. Arthur Williams had lost SotF, but, as far as deaths went, he would've been alright with his.

MALE STUDENT NO 111 - ARTHUR "ARTY" WILLIAMS - DECEASED

Ivan's eyes shot open. There was someone holding him hostage at scalpel-point, and another kid had just been shot. He... It was his fault. He could and probably would die, and A... Someone. He couldn't think straight. Somebody was dead. They died trying to stop the person holding him hostage. Guilt struck him hard, and tears ran down his eyes. But he just... couldn't think straight!

His head was pounding from the elbow to the face, and the noise of the gun. His stomach was empty, and he should have eaten earlier. He could hardly stand, if he wasn't afraid that falling over would kill him. His arms were down at his side. He wanted to grab something. To brace himself. But his bag was still inside. Bobby's movement backwards had pressed the blade against his neck, and he hardly wanted his throat slit.

Ivan's hope for survival lasted less than a day. But... he really didn't want to die. Not yet.

(Beginning, middle, and end of B107)

It was nothing short of a miracle that Andy McCann had made it to day six - a number of gamblers had made a lot of money on predictions of just how far he would make it in SOTF. The most ruthless of bookmakers and pundits put him at a day 1 elimination. How in the hell would an overweight, naive, friendless kid armed with a piece of cardboard even make it through his first seconds on the island?

Quite simply? Hiding. Ever since he woke up Andy had spent just about every moment in abject terror - fearing for his live with every waking moment. This was quite justified of course, and it had served him very well. If he heard gunshots or the sounds of other people Andy would simply take off in the opposite direction, puffing and wheezing his way to tenuous safety. It was astonishing, considering his complete lack of awareness as regards to his surroundings, that he hadn't yet managed to set off any traps.

His luck in that regard was about to run out.

Andy was breathing heavily as he (unbeknowst to him) approached the treeline. The humidity and rain were playing havoc with his glasses - alternatively steaming them up and covering them in droplets of water, and this necessitated wiping them off every few seconds. Andy's stomach rumbled painfully and he winced with discomfort, stopping momentarily to heave in several shuddering breaths. He hadn't eaten since last night - his meager rations proving insufficient for his large appetite.

Why me? He thought miserably for what must have been the thousandth time. Nobody ever notices me, and the first time something special happens it has to be a thing like this doesn't it? One, vaguely happy thought brought half a smile to Andy's face. What would Lucius Zanos do in a situation like this? 'Lucius Zanos' was Andy's favourite action figure. His parents didn't like that he still played with all of his old 'toys' but they were the only friends he had. Andy briefly pictured Lucius, heroic voice and all, and his heart sank again. Probably rattle off a snappy catchphrase, rip off his collar and rescue everybody, before confronting Danya and realizing that he's actually Shadowman.

"Not really relevant in this case," Andy observed wryly. Then again, when had 'W.W.L.Z.D?' every really worked out for him? Andy wasn't a sharp-witted superhero with a cynical streak, he was an unpopular fat kid with so little fitness it was surprising he hadn't yet keeled over from a heart attack.

Andy sighed and straightened up, before blundering another couple of steps forward, causing the mud to loudly squelch underfoot and generally leaving a trail that a blind man could follow, and at that moment, the traps which had been disregarded and fortunately avoided by the vast majority of V3 contestants came bit back with a vengeance.

There was a gentle snapping sound, causing Andy to stop in his tracks in confusion, before nervously looking around in case he was being followed. What he met coming the other way was more pain than he'd ever experienced in his life: a log, chained between two trees, swinging at him at head height.

He didn't even have time to cry out as the log smashed into his face, pulverizing his nose and shattering both lenses of his spectacles, jamming shards of broken glass into his left eye and blinding him with blood. Dazed, Andy was thrown backwards, too surprised and concussed to even let out a whimper.

ARGH! What the hell happened!? Oh god! My glasses! My nose! What hit me!? Is somebody after me!?

Andy rolled over, barely able to see, and picked himself up - his terror outweighing his grogginess. There was somebody after him! He had to get away! Andy staggered forwards a few steps and actually managed to clear the treeline. He had no idea he was now out in the open, one blinded eye and one without the augmentation of his glasses to aid his vision - everything was a blur to him.

At that point, the pain hit him.

OHMYGODTHISFUCKINGHURTS! Andy didn't even manage to get out that much, instead letting out a strangled cry which rivaled the PA's 'SHORYUKEN' in volume, easily loud enough in volume for everybody nearby to hear him and be alerted to his presence.

Very unfortunately for Andy, the closest person to him happened to be 5-time murderer Bobby Jacks.

Startled by the cry, and perhaps anticipating another attack, Bobby pointed his SIG backwards and fired blind - not willing to take his eyes off the other people in case they used it as an opportunity to attack him.

Andy never even saw the bullet coming.

Perhaps more by luck than judgment, the shot hit him squarely in the forehead, splattering the contents of his skull all over a nearby tree. Andy pitched backwards, hitting the ground noiselessly, without even time for a last though to race through his mind.

Somehow, through all of his trials and tribulations, Andy had managed to keep ahold of his designated 'weapon' a piece of cardboard with the acronym 'SOTF' written on it in a blue marker, this, as he fell, slipped out of his fingers. The wet cardboard flipped over, landing lettering side up on Andy's chest.

Never had those four letters been more true.


MALE STUDENT NO. 107 - ANDREW "ANDY" McCANN - ELIMINATED

*

Arthur went down almost too easily. Bobby spared a fleeting thought of regret for killing the guy, but this was no time to be feeling remorse. That could come later, in much greater increments.

Five now... six if you count Straton, you're really quite the killer Bobby.

If it were like Reg, with few others around, Bobby may have stopped then and there and dwelt on his actions, but with at least eight others around the area that he knew off, he simply couldn't afford to hesitate.

Which was why, when hearing a voice cry out behind him, Bobby, without thinking, pointed his gun backwards and pulled the trigger. A dull thud moments later let him know that he'd scored yet another hit, something which Bobby considered to be decidedly lucky.

Show off a few tricks. First one-handed, then one-handed and backwards. What next, a handstand?

This was his chance, close enough to the treeline now to make a break for it. But... what about Ivan? He would be practically on top of him, what would stop him from going straight after Bobby as soon as he let him go? No, Bobby realised, Ivan couldn't be freed without placing himself in even more jeopardy.

"I'm so sorry," Bobby whispered into his soon-to-be-victim's ear. And with that, Bobby turned the scalpel inward and brought it across Ivan's throat in a motion which would certainly cut it wide open.

((Yeah kinda 'backed into corner' hit there, but I couldn't figure out how else to write it and I figured Ivan was gonna die anyway... so it didn't matter a huge amount. Still don't like it though. Also, apologies on screwing with the post order, but this kinda needs to get done quickly))

The blood shot out of Ivan's neck like something out of a movie. His eyes widened, and he fell over. His last thought was this: If his death had been a bit slower, he might have had time to see his life flash before his eyes, or to say he was sorry, or to give some speech to Danya or SOMETHING. But all he got was this. How lame. Ivan's body hit the ground with a thump, and the wet grass was being coated in blood.

And he was dead.

MALE STUDENT NO. 81 - IVAN ROEGHMILLS - DECEASED

Everything had happened too fast for Denise to process. She was starting to say something in response to Shane before the speakers screeched out a deafening "SHRYOUKEN!", freezing her in place.

What was Danya doing now?

And suddenly, there was yelling outside again. There was a hostage. Denise didn't know what happened after that, but she knew what ended it: gunshots. Someone was dead.

At the sound on gunfire Denise had quickly ducked down, and sat against the door hugging her knees. Her knuckles were white against the handle of the cleaver. She was wound up tight, like the littlest string on a guitar. Or whichever one is wound up tightest. She was all for leaving, except she felt she couldn't move a muscle. The anticipation was killer.

What now?

Denise thought that she saw windows on the back wall. Perhaps she had found their way of exit, after all.

Neil Sinclair watched in horror as all of this happened before him.

Bobby had killed three people.

On Bobby's behalf though, in a way all three of them kind of got themselves in the situation, but he shouldn't have did what he did. Neil Sinclair was the leader of the group that was going to get off this island, not someone who was going to let a murderer get away.

"God damn you Jacks!"

Neil Sinclair pressed himself against the inside wall of the barracks shielding himself. His mind raced for solutions. He looked around and saw other members of S.A.D.D. Some armed, some not. He had to fight. He had to shoot. He had to take action. Though, any action he did could put his friends, his allies, in danger. At what cost was he willing to right the wrong? At what cost was he willing to make a stand?

Neil Sinclair was no hero.

He was just a boy who wore the punk clothes and wanted to see his band make it big.

He was just a senior in high school.

He was just the leader of S.A.D.D.

Despite every ounce in him wanting to lean out from his cover and fire at Bobby, Neil Sinclair didn't. He couldn't put anyone else in danger. No one else was going to die today.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Damn it! Bobby get the hell out of here now! You have twenty seconds to leave this place or I swear to god I'm going to empty my gun on you!"

Neil Sinclair was no hero.