Survival Of The Fittest

((Morgan Leftowitz continued from The Worst Bath Ever some liberties taken, fully approved by Dom))

Morgan Leftowitz was still regretting covering himself in the mud of the swamp even now. He had gotten over the inital waves of embarassment about how foolish he looked. It was so that he could avoid being bitten by the insects that resided in the swamp, and it seemed to have worked well, his bug bites were minimal, but now the dried earth clung to the hair on his arm. He continually picked at it and while successful, he winced every time he ripped a piece of dry earth off his arm or his now lightly stubbled face.

While he knew that asking for there to be no tension between the three girls was a hopeless request, but he had always thought that there was a chance. However, Morgan could feel a wave of discomfort behind him and felt compelled to check back often to make sure that the three of them hadn't started fighting again. He supposed it couldn't be helped. It wasn't as if the veil that Jen placed up for everyone had dropped yet, even though they had hiked their way up a great portion of the mountain in just over a day. Still, the prospect of freedom was enough to keep them going

He sighed, taking another swig of one of his bottles of water. It had helped him keep hydrated, but it was warm. The aftertaste of gritty earth mixing in with the liquid inside. The bread, while stale, did help bring some texture, but he ate that only sparingly, dispite numerous complaints from his stomach.

It was early in the morning when the announcement hit. He had practically ignored it at first, it was nothing but background noise to him.

But then, he heard a name amongst the killers, and his pace slowed until an eventual stop.

Illario Fiametta had killed someone. Illario Fiametta the Third had killed someone.

Instinct toldMorgan to turn around to Frankie, but when he looked at her, he received no hint of an expression. He said nothing to her, what was he supposed to say? What do you say to someone minutes after they find out their brother had murdered someone?

He only stared, waiting for a response...

((Jen Romita cont'd from The Worst Bath Ever))

This trip was becoming boring, considering that they were supposed to be fighting for their lives. Jen hadn't really seen too many of her classmates since she had arrived, and had spent most of her time walking. While that had been okay while it was just her and Morgan, the other girls were beginning to put a dampener on things.

She had kept quiet since the swamp, feeling that if she were to speak, then somebody would no doubt leap down her throat and belittle her for her choice of lifestyle. While Morgan would do his best to protect her, she was still annoyed at having to put up with these people. She wondered if this was how it started. You get shoved together with people, and wind each other up, all the while being told to kill them. Eventually, you'd start to listen to it. She was almost grateful that she'd been given a bolt of cloth instead of a gun.

As Morgan stopped to listen to the announcement, she paused behind him. She had taken to tuning most of them out. Knowing that Edward and Eva were dead, she didn't want to think about how many other friends and lovers she was losing out here. When it was over, she noticed Morgan staring at Frankie. Shit, what had happened. What was she supposed to do.

((Marion Summers continued from The Worst Bath Ever ))

Marion followed quietly behind Jen and Morgan not really paying that much attention to them. She'd decided to go with them mostly because she was tired of being alone on this stupid island, playing this stupid game. She almost tripped over a rock sending it skittering. Right, time to be paying attention.

She looked at Jen and Morgan who both seemed to be staring at Frankie as if they wanted to ask her something. She remembered that Ilario had just been named as a murderer. She bit her lip wondering how she would feel if her brothers had been named murderers.

"How bad do you think it was that Ilario had to defend himself," she asked.


((Sorry it's so short was mostly trying to avoid inactivity.))

((Frankie Fiametta, continued from The Worst Bath Ever.))

Ily had killed someone in cold blood.

Ily had killed someone in cold blood and won a prize for it.

Frankie repeated that in her head. Over and over. It just didn't make any sense. Ily was the calm one, the sensible one. While she and Rosa were off partying, he was the one that stayed behind to clean up the shit and the piss and the vomit they left in their wake. He was supposed to be the responsible one, and he'd killed someone in cold blood.

Her own brother was a killer. A murderer. What the fuck was she supposed to say to that? She had to find him. She had to find him, and she had to find Rosa, too. Maybe if they found each other they'd be able to figure out what the fuck happened.

But did she want to find Ily if he was going around killing people?

Frankie didn't know. She just didn't know any more.

Frankie kept her head low, not looking at skankbags Jen, or pussywhipped Morgan, or the Paparazzi bitch whose name she had forgotten. They just stared. Just kept staring at her, like they were waiting for her to explode. Gawking at her like she was some kind of fucking museum piece. The paparazzi offered some pitiful fucking attempt at trying to make conversation, half trying to console her, half trying to get opinions on how big an asshole Ily had to be. She asked how bad a situation it would have to be for Ily to defend himself. Frankie bet those fuckers barely even knew him. They were probably going to go on about how he was a fucking monster, and they barely fucking knew him. But... the Ily she knew- the Ily she thought she knew- wouldn't do that. The Ily she knew wouldn't flat out murder someone at the drop of a hat. She listened to the awkward responses.

She gritted her teeth. For once in her life, Frankie said nothing.

When whatever the idiots were planning inevitably crapped out, she needed to find Ily and Rosa. Find them and figure out what the fuck was going on. That much was certain to her now. She had been holding out on them finding her first, of course, but that wasn't looking all that fucking likely, taking into consideration the fact they'd been there for like a week now and it hadn't happened yet. Frankie was gonna have to be the one to take some fucking initiative and find her slut of a sister and her murderer of a brother.

Yeah, Ily had some explaining to do when she found him, that much was clear. She'd figure out where the fuck he and Rosa had wound up, go get Ily, ask him what the fuck he was doing and calm him down if he was being a hysterical bitch, then they'd go pick up her whore of a sister. They'd find her off sucking off the football team in return for protection or some shit. Ily'd berate her. Frankie'd call her a whore. Then they'd go walk off into the fucking sunset.

Frankie wasn't sure if it was from lack of nicotine or just shock, but she started shaking.

Morgan was looking for some sort of clue. It was the poker player in him. He was searching for some sort of indicator to find out how she was feeling. But it wasn't like what the movies advertised where there was one indicator that would reveal everything. How people were feeling, how they would react to something, they were an open book in the movies. There was just one problem with that...

Morgan tried to guage some sort of emotion, but whatever emotion that Frankie had right now was being kept locked inside. It had happened before with Jen from time to time after something like a particularily bad break up. If she didn't want to say anything immediately too him it was okay, they'd eventually talk about it over tea and call it a day. However, Morgan had a feeling that sharing over tea was not going to help matters.

Morgan cringed when Marion spoke. If there was something that was to be said to the sister of Ilario Fiametta...that was not what immediately came to mind. He knew she meant well of course, but the timing was all wrong. Asking why was not the right idea. But then again, he hadn't really come up with a solution to the problem himself.

Frankie was shaking profusely, but she still said nothing to the three of them. What on earth was he supposed to do? Consoling a relative of a murder victim was not exactly a forte of his. Hell he would have been shocked to think that any of them were very good at something this bad.

But standing still wouldn't be any good either.

Morgan slowly shuffled his way down the hill until he stood in front of Frankie. He towered over the girl and that made the knot in his stomach twisting tighter inside.

"Um..."

He stood there, for a few minutes unsure of what else he was supposed to say. He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, tell her that it was all going to be fine. But that didn't change the fact that Ilario Fiametta III had killed someone after all.

"Uh...Frankie...I'm sorry..."

Morgan felt stupid in saying something like that, but what else could he do? This "game" had hurt so many people now. Morgan could feel his fists curling up as he turned his head back to Jen.

They had to get out of here...

Damn. Why did something like this have to happen? Frankie was out of it, clearly in some kind of shock, Marion was of no use whatsoever, trying to make it clear that if Ilario had killed somebody, it must have been bad. As if that hadn't been obvious. And Morgan…

Morgan was beginning to lose his shit. That was not good for anybody. She could see it in the way he held himself, the way his hand was clasping. The way that he looked at her. He needed somebody to take over, even if only for a little while. Understandable, how long had it been now that she had been relying on him to be the strong one, to be able to reassure her when she had been losing it? Now, she needed to be there for him, to be there for everybody. Damn, this wasn't going to do her reputation any good.

She stepped in to Frankie and put her arm round her shoulder, and spoke gently. "It's okay Highpockets. I've got this one. You go, take five. Get a cup of tea. "Wait, bad idea. There was no way they'd be able to brew something just now. "Scratch that. Maybe a drink of water. I'll be with you in a few." She turned and gave her full attention to Frankie.

"It's okay babe. Whatever you need. I'm here for you. Breathe, get yourself together. You wanna talk, we talk. You wanna cry, ere's a shoulder. Like I say, whatever you need." She had never been close with Frankie, but now, Jen had to be her best friend. She only hoped that Frankie read her intentions right, and didn't panic further.

Marion sighed as she caught the grimace on Morgan's face as she began speaking and it didn't look like Jen was very happy with her either. Excuse me for getting people talking. Isn't it better we actually talk then stand around sending each other furtive glances? Marion had never been one to keep things bottled up and not talked about. She'd had more than enough of that when her parents were going through their divorce.

Marion was baffled as to why the others were offering condolences or shoulders to cry on. If it had been one of her brothers she'd have been overjoyed. At least Frankie knew her brother was still alive. She hadn't been there to see what had pushed Illario over the edge; she only knew that it had happened.

Shrugging her shoulders she took in her surroundings and then dug in her bag to grab a couple pieces of bread. She offered Morgan a slice, since it seemed that Jen wanted to get his mind off whatever he was focusing on. She munched on her piece absently wondering what Frankie's next reaction would be and whether or not she should record it. She figured there were cameras around somewhere, maybe she'd stick to her point of view from now on, since everyone seemed to be upset by her notes.

Still staring. They were still staring. For the love of God, people, stop staring. She was okay with the silence, and the fact they were all pretending that they actually gave a crap about her brother being a fucking murderer, but if they don't stop staring soon I am going to fucking scream.

Morgan offered a few words to try and comfort her. Well, by a few, she meant three. Yeah, Frankie counted. Why? It wasn't his brother that'd killed someone.

Jen tried to offer her a talk, a shoulder to cry on. So fucking condescending. But then again, did she really expect any better from the second banana for the prestigious title of Bayview Bicycle? Still shaking. Needed a smoke, some pot, even some of Ily's anxiety medication would've done the trick. But no, she had to have gone left her fucking bag before she'd fell into in the fucking tunnels.

"I'm fine." Frankie spat back. "Really."

Marion started passing bread around, stopping at Morgan. Yeah, that'd fucking help. Bread. That'd take their minds off of everything. That'd really fucking help. Gave Frankie an idea, though. Take her mind off of stuff. That'd be an idea right now. Get a move on with that damned plan, too. Sooner they finished that, sooner she could get off this island, ditch their asses, and go the hell home.

Frankie grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulders. Struggled to her feet. Keep herself busy. Wouldn't have to think about it. Still shaking. Fucking hell. She half considered asking for a smoke. No, they wouldn't have anything on them. Frankie figured Jen probably popped pills more than she smoked, and Morgan would give her a nice cup of chamomile tea and some biscuits or some shit.

"Listen, if we've got a fucking plan, let's just go and fucking do it, alright?" Frankie looked down, didn't want to make eye contact. Fucking staring at her again. "I'd rather do something right now, rather than just sit around waiting for our asses to blow the fuck up."

"Y'know," She shook her head. "If you guys don't mind and all."

Morgan felt Jen's hand on his back. He turned and nodded when she suggested that she would take over. The idea was sound and quite frankly, Morgan was doing a terrible job at.

"Okay Jen..."

Morgan turned away and took Marion's offering of bread. He nibbled it gingerly, walking towards a rather large boulder. He turned back to look down upon the island that they were now living on.

If it weren't for the obvious fact that they were on Survival of the Fittest, Morgan would have admired the view more than he had. It was quite a rush to look down at how high the four of them had traveled in search of a way out. After several minutes, a fit of dizziness washed over him. He put his free hand on his head and leaned against the boulder as a way of stablizing himself. Blinking several times he saw something far off in the distance.

He had to whipe his eyes to see if he had gotten it wrong... It couldn't be...

But there it was...

In the distance at the northwestern tip of the island was a boat.

Morgan's jaw went slack. He tried to speak, but all he could do was smile. This was it. This was the answer that he and Jen had been searching for. It was just so perfect! All they had to do was go to it and then they would sail on it. Then they would make it home! Now, all that mattered was getting to that boat!

"GUYS!" he shouted, starting to run forwards, "Guys I found a way out!"

It was all too much for him to keep contained, he was laughing now. He was as giddy as he had been when he had won his first ever tournament on the internet. Though this was far sweeter to the reedy teenager.

"Look behind you!" he said, pointing his finger out to where the boat was, "Check it out! It's a fuckin' boat!"

He turned from the boat to the girls and then back to the boat. He pumped his fist up into the air and nearly started dancing before regaining a semblance of composure.

"We gotta get to that boat! It looks like it's fully operational. All we got to do is get to it! Looks like we just gotta get back through that swamp and then we'll be home free! C'mon lets go!"

Morgan didn't even wait for them to acknowledge him. He began to run down the mountain as fast as he could, nearly tripping over his feet multiple times, but that didn't matter now. They were going to get out of here. They were going to be free of this game!

((Morgan Leftowitz continued elsewhere))

((skipping post order because its really close to the inactivity deadline for me))

Marion had no idea what kind of plan Frankie wanted them to come up with. If they wanted to face facts the only realistic plan was to kill Liz. Hell, kill everybody if the truth be told. That's the rules Danya made up anyway. She let out a sigh, sure that voicing that plan was not going to win her any favor points. Although why the hell she kept trying to win any points with this crowd she wasn't sure. It seemed like no matter what she did or didn't do all she got was glares and eyerolls. She bit her lip trying to decide what to do when Morgan made the decision for her.

Suddenly, he was very excited about the boat way off in the distance. Marion squinted and to her the boat didn't look very seaworthy. But she decided to take a page from his book. She gathered her belongings and headed back down the mountain.

((Marion Summers continued in Walk on Water or Drown))

Frankie shook her head. Her standing up and telling them to fucking get a move on didn't motivate them as much as she hoped it would. Fuck it, then. Not much she could do about that, really. Saying nothing, Frankie slumped back down, keeping her bag on her back in case of a "Holy Shit, Frankie, you're right! We should go and do shit and actually try to find a way out of here instead of sitting around eating bread and sucking each other's' dicks!" Hardly fucking likely, she knew, but she kept a glimmer of hope that it would be.

Morgan started spazzing out about something. What was it? A boat? Why would a boat help? Why would they need a fucking boat? God that was so fucking immature wh-

Fuck. Fuck! It all made perfect sense. Frankie Looked a while away, but fuck, she would risk it to get the fuck out of this dump.

"Pinch me, I'm fucking dreaming..." Frankie put a hand over her eyes. "I take it all back. No, really, fucking all of it back. You did have something."

She got to her feet, stretching her legs, taking one last look at the boat before they started heading down the mountain. Okay, maybe she could tolerate these fuckers for just that little bit longer. This was it. Morgan had found them a way out. Rosa? Ily? Fuck it. They had their chance to get off, but she was the one who got the way out. Ily had killed someone! She was going to get out of there with these fuckers, be declared a national hero or something, get the fuck back home, and smoke an entire fucking pound of weed to celebrate.

Not long now. She'd be home soon.

((Frankie Fiametta, continued in Make/Break.))

So, Frankie didn't want to be helped. Well, that suited Jen fine. After all, there was no point in trying to be nice to somebody who didn't want to be helped. Jen just felt a bit stupid about having put herself out there like that, only to be rebuffed. Still, she had a point about wanting to do something, rather than waiting around to be killed.

Of course, there was the small matter of what to do. Jen was still following Morgan, but that was beginning to look like a dead end. How long had they been trying to see ways off, and so far there had been as much chance of that, as there had of Jen making it with Erik Laurin.

And then he shouted. He had found something. A boat. Like that, Jen fell in love with her best friend, all over again. He had delivered them from the island. True, it was likely to be no easy trip, but there was hope, once again. She could sense the raise in the whole groups spirits, as she followed them down the mountain.

((Jen Romita cont'd in Make/Break))

((And thread closed))