Survival Of The Fittest

((Well, being as I've got absolutely nothin' to do at this point, because all my guys are waiting for responses, it's time to try and entertain everyone. Feel free to add on, and get your guys into the mix. This basically gives everyone something to do when you're waiting for a post and whatnot. Have fun. (and ya'll say i'm good for nothing but polls...yeesh...))

Andrew Lipson leaned up against the black, wooden chair and frowned. The shot, it looked, well...near-impossible. Was it even possible to get a pool ball to move that way? He didn't know. He didn't think that balls curled like that, and to hit the one ball he needed to sink in order to win, he'd have to pull off the impossible. Stepping up to the table, he tried to channel his inner Mars Callahan. Sure, it was a brutal excuse for a pro player as he could think of, but the fact was that the director of Poolhall Junkies was the only even semi-pro player that came to mind. Readying his cue, he adjusted...waited...adjusted, and shot.

Andrew Lipson was a skilled pool player, and while he hoped that the rules of gravity would not apply in this place, this rather nice-looking restaurant/bar combination that they were in, but alas, it was not to be. The cue ball hit the black ball and sent both careening over to the other side of the table.

"Damnit! Shit, guy...that was an impossible shot, and you know it!"

His opponent grabbed the cue ball and set it next to the black 8-ball. Grinning, he set his green eyes on Andrew and chuckled a little. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have found himself being that social, but at this time, he really didn't give a shit. He didn't have many worries at the moment, and for the forseeable future, Cole Hudson didn't figure that things would get any worse. Lining up his shot, he easily sunk the eight ball into the corner pocket, scoring a win over the disgruntled-looking Lipson.

"Aw, come on Andrew. Don't take it too hard. You're out of practice, that's all. I mean, first time on legs in awhile, too, eh?"

Andrew rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess...but whatever man. Didn't Edward say he wanted a go at you? Hell, where'd he go, anyway?"

The pool tables weren't the only thing in the room. In fact, it was more like a rather large restaurant, like a sports bar, except quieter and less populated. Of those that were in the bar, most talked quietly amongst themselves. Some sat in shock in corner booths, getting the waiters (one whom Andrew was POSITIVE was a jolly-looking Marlon Brando) to bring them drink after drink. The bar served food, whatever you wanted on a menu that was absolutely enormous - all free of charge. There was tons of stuff to do, from an arcade in the back, a bowling alley next door, a dartboard in the bar...Andrew shrugged. It was all so very odd a feeling. Being dead, and all. That was the commonality between every single person in the room. Each and every one of them were dead. He had already spoken to a glum-looking Sydney Morvran, who had introduced him to his brother and a friend of his from his class. They had seemed nice enough, but Andrew figured that Sydney was having a bit of trouble getting used to the idea that he was dead.

Someone who he noticed was taking the transition rather well was Edward Rommel. The usually reserved boy had been quite ecstatic, Andrew had noticed, when he came in, and had actually been the one to kind of ease Andrew into the fact that he was, indeed, dead. It hadn't taken all that long to get used to, and the sight of seeing Rommel munching on his jelly-beans was actually kind of funny. In the corner, he saw Arturo Villamor betting on, and what a morbid, yet interesting thing to bet on who would be the next person to walk through the door of the bar. Sure, they were only sixteen year olds, but they were dead, so Andrew supposed that it didn't really matter. He noticed a couple others, Tayli Vreeland and Uriel Hunter specifically, chatting away while watching television in the television lounge off to the side. Andrew had popped his head in to take a peek, and had been surprised to see that the television that they were watching was actually their fellow classmates on the island. It seemed that a great number of people were interested to see who was going to make it out alive. Andrew had to admit though, he loved the fact that the person's inner thoughts were broadcast on subtitles underneath the screen. It made it so much more interesting.

Man, what a place... Andrew sighed. At least he could walk again. That was something he was finding as a real plus. Shrugging, he went up to the bar and ordered a fruit punch. As strange a thing to order as it was, Andrew figured that for a post-death drink, it was as good a thing to start with as ever. Looking around the room, he saw more familiar faces. Alan Shinwrath was trying his hardest to impress August Masbeth and Helena van Garret, both of whom had been surprisingly kind to him when he had entered the room. They had both hugged him tightly and (with tears in their eyes, he had been surprised, actually) had apologized profusely for being such bitches back in the world to him.

Funny thing was, Andrew felt himself forgiving a lot easier than he ever figured that he would of before.

Bizarre... He thought, and took a long drink out of his fruit punch.

Not too bad...

Edward Rommel had to admit that once you got used to it, the whole death thing… it wasn’t really that bad.

After his death some eleven people ago the oddness of it all had finally set in, and he finally came to the fact that, yes, he was indeed dead and the young German had taken it in his own hands to sort of become the afterlife welcoming committee.

He saw it as, it was already bad enough you had just been killed by someone you didn’t even know, or in worse cases by someone you did know. Dying wasn’t the easiest of things… everyone here had a different view on it all. Their views on why they had to die, how they died, the hate in some cases toward the murderer.

Even now after all this time, the sour taste whenever he thought of Jacob still hadn’t dissapered so he supposed it to all be common. Currently now our resident jelly-bean addict currently lay over the back of the couch, hands holding his chin up as his blue eyes watched the images of the TV before him.

One of things he had quickly noticed that after he had arrived here, he had quickly taken note that the dull, burliness that had filled the vision of his right eye since childhood was no longer there. And that his vision has almost as perfect as it should be, though his jacket indeed hadn’t come with him, he was sure that Garrett would take care of it for him where he couldn’t.

Speaking of Garrett, it seemed his friend had came across another group of people though he had to admit the young woman, Heather, wasn’t the nicest though he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips and the plans Garrett had to do to Jacob.

Throwing himself up, and over the couch he rolled onto his feet as he hopped up, and moving quickly over to the bar. Hopping on one of the many stools, spinning in a couple of turns before stopping at grinning at the other boy there. “Guten morgen there Andrew.” Edward mused, he by now having grown on his first name not caring if he was called by either, as he pushed his hands into his pants pocket pulling out the bag of random favored jellybeans popping a couple into his mouth with another small gin.

“How’d you do in your pool game?”

Andrew couldn't help but laugh as Rommel settled into the seat next to him. As far as the pool game was concerned, he felt himself a little rusty. He didn't expect to lose, ESPECIALLY to Hudson, who wasn't known for his pool skills, but rather his scathing editorials in the school newspaper. Thumbing his, well, thumb backwards, he rolled his eyes.

"Eh, Hudson beat me three games straight. I think I'm a little rusty. Tricky little bastard schooled me on the first two but I was close with him on the last one. Ah, whatever. I'll get him next time, you know what I'm saying?"

Andrew took a glance at one of the monitors above the bar. The bartender (who strangely enough, resembled a young Jimi Hendrix) handed him a remote control for the TV, noting his interest. Andrew accepted it, but saw that it was currently documenting out the adventures (or misadventures, as it may have been) of his good friend Adam Dodd, still alive and kicking back down on the island.

"I can't help but feel bad for the guy...he seemed really torn up when he found my corpse. Then again, I probably would be too." He glanced over at Edward.

"It's kind of weird watching everyone on TV...sorta makes you feel like you're still alive, you know? Makes me think that 'yeah, I'm just gonna go back home and chill on the couch after this...', but I can't...it's freaking strange. And dude, isn't it so weird..." he pointed to the bottom of the TV screen, "how you can see what the people're thinking? I mean, shit...I didn't know Adam was into Amanda. Of all people he hid that from me...jeez."

Andrew chuckled.

"Anyways bro, can I get you a drink?"

Edward shook his head, popping a few more jellybeans into his mouth. “No thanks, I’m fine for the moment.”

Tilting his head somewhat, he watched the figures on the screen converse amongst one another, besides Adam he only knowing one other. The other two’s name didn’t ring bells with him, “I suppose I know what you mean – When I first woke up on the island, him and Alan where the first two I met. When I first got here, I kept thinking to myself ‘I should have just stayed with them, maybe I wouldn’t be dead.’ But…”

Spinning in his seat again, he sighed, “I figured it to happen sooner or later, even though I am dead now. I did make a new friend, and even if I do miss that jacket I have a gut feeling that Garrett’ll get it too my mother like he promised.” Edward said lightly, grinning again.

Glancing up at the screen again he lightly smile, “Seems Adam found one of the Hughes twins, though I can’t tell which. Only way I could tell back home is that… Glenn is a whole lot more calmer than Fred, if not distant.” He said, narrowing his eyes trying to find something to tell which would be which as voices, and thoughts so far hadn’t said much as he hadn’t been watching this one too long.

“And hey, I’ve been wanting to play a game of pool. Maybe I’ll play Cole, win a game or two for ya’.”

Venka dropped into the two boys' conversation, Kichiro in tow.

"Andrew!" Kichiro called out, laughing a bit as he snatched the remote away. He switched it to see what Umi was up to.

"Kichiro, why'd you do that? Umi's been in the same spot for God knows how long..."

"I just have to make sure, she has to make it, you know? And hey! There's Garrett too."

Venka took a seat next to Edward, ordering a strawberry virgin margarita. Death sucked. She had to admit that, the whole dying thing she did not want to go through again. But, the after-life rocked! There was just idle things to do, play games, eat, drink, but there wasn't that overwhelming feeling of purpose. You didn't feel like you had to do anything, like on the world.

Kichiro was taking it a bit harder. He wasn't ill-mannered towards anyone, but he was being overly watchful on Umi. After all, he died trying to find her, and now that she knew... he hoped she would be all right. Oh well, whatever.

"So, I haven't played pool before, but think I could watch a match or two? Maybe I'll learn?"

Andrew glanced over at the pool table, still currently being occupied by a mischevious-looking Cole Hudson and what looked like a frustrated-looking Terry Woodward.

"Yeah, I think Cole's still hustling people, but if you want to wait a bit, I'll go over and show him how to really play a game of pool."

Andrew glanced up at the TV and looked at Umi, trying to sort things out. He chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

"You know, I wish we'd gotten moving a little earlier on, then maybe i wouldn't have tried to make my cell-phone call from hell. Jeez, those conspiracy theorists always said cell-phones would kill you, but I didn't expect that it ACTUALLY would."

He laughed.

"So here's a morbid one for you guys...you all go out the way you expected to? Because I sure as hell didn't. I think I did something to piss off God or something. Jeez..."

Alan heard this and turned around on his stool. "I sure didn't. You think I expected to get a bullet between the eyes? But looking back, I guess I kinda ran right into it." he laughed slightly and went back to his drink. Personally, he was surprised at the events unfolding after he died. He definitely wasn't expecting Jacob to survive getting shot four times and then shoot Uriel's head off.

A thoughtful look passed over Edward’s face at the question, twisting in his seat a little… “I can’t say I did, bleeding to death from a gunshot wound you didn’t know about isn’t the most wonderful thing in the world. Namely knowing I could have done something about if I had noticed I had been shot there sooner, Knowing me I figured I’d go down taking the hit for someone else, you know? Knight in shining armor type.”

Grinning lightly to himself, he pulled his arms above his head stretching a bit before resting in his seat again. “Then again, I suppose bleeding to death is a lot better than some of the others went through, collars exploding or where killed in an accident. Though I suppose anything is better than being caught and killed by one of those crazies they got running about the island, namely the one with the meat cleaver.”

Shuddering, he found himself taking a quick glance at the newest person to join the ranks of the afterlife, a young man by the man of Jimmy. Edward had been present when they showed his death, but he didn’t say around to watch to much of it… “I’m just happy I went in one piece, and it wasn’t that bad.”

Edward found himself grinning lightly at Alan's comment, shrugging some. "Yeah, you did run into it. I was there when it happened - though your former two allies are holding up quite nicely it seems."

Kichiro sat there, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I don't know... I had that hope, that we would get out. Maybe someone would save us, or we'd get the better of Danya. Alas, I suppose maybe the only way to get out of the game is to die...."

Venka just ignored the question, taking large sips of her drink as she watched the game like it was some soap opera. She took the remote from Kichiro and started flipping through channels, screaming as she saw the mess Blaine Eno had made.

"Yeah, though I can't wait until someone takes Jacob down. Hey Ed, want to make a bet on who will be the one to do it? My money's on either Jackson or Dodd." Alan replied, looking up at the television to check the status of the others.

Venka and Kichiro uttered the same name, grimly.

"Cillian."

Without any warning, a head popped out from between Venka and Kichiro, startling the both of them. The head belonged to Arturo Villamor, who had a big grin on his face.

"Betting? Someone talking about betting? I've got, well...money riding on Cillian to kill at least four more people before he dies. I mean, he's already got a couple to his name...I know because I'm one of them. Creepy bastard. I swear, I'm going to make him buy me a drink when he comes walzting in here. Getting disemboweled sure as hell ain't fun."

Art glanced at Lipson, who had chuckled a little at the comment.

"I can imagine. But yeah, man...my money as for who takes down Jacob Starr? Honestly, I'm going to go out on a limb and say Garrett Langston. I don't know why, I just see Jacob fucking up and BANG, in he walks."

Art looked at him with an odd expression on his face.

"Langston? Hell no, bro. It's going to be Cillian, Hawley, or Dodd. That's what I'd put my money on, anyways."

As Venka screamed, both boys looked at the TV and winced when they saw what was left of Jimmy Moreland. The poor boy had walked in moments earlier, and thanks to the wonderful magic of time-delay television, one could rewind, fast forward and such through it.

"Bro, that's gross," was all that Art could manage to get out.

"Guys," Venka said a little uncomfortably, "What'll happen if Cillian dies? Will he...?"

Kichiro shook his head, "It's hard to figure out how this place works, and even if you did, it wouldn't matter much. It's too cool."

Andrew laughed, and took another drink out of his fruit punch. Cool was indeed a word to describe it. All they needed was Ray Charles in the corner playing the piano and it would be the absolute epitome of cool. As Lipson thought a bit, Art grabbed the remote away from Venka and flipped through a couple of channels. Finally, he stopped it at Jacob Starr and his group.

"Hey, shit...looks like Jacob's got himself a little posse. Wonder if anyone's gonna be able to stop them now. They're pretty well armed, actually. I really don't think anyone else is that well armed at all, eh? Two pistols and a shotgun? Not too shabby..."

When Venka screamed Edward’s eyes casted upward too the TV screen only to find himself quickly burying his face into his hands at the sight. Personally he couldn’t stand to watch the sight of other people dying… his weird feeling twisting in his gut when he did, and a rather sick feeling passing over him.

Parting his fingers somewhat he shuddered at the sight still on the screen, “I went to school with him… it’s so weird to seeing him trying to dismember someone while their still alive, torturing and mocking them in the slow death.”

Turning in his seat he glanced off toward the newly appeared Art, listening between him and Andrew as they talked about who would be the one too take down Jacob Starr. He leaning back in his seat somewhat as he thought over the names spoke, perking up a little when Garrett’s name was mentioned, “Garrett’s got a chance, he’s got my lucky jacket.” He mused, grinning turning back around.

“As for what happens when people like Cillian dies… well, everyone who had problems either mentally or physically seemed to have been fixed, So… maybe it’ll be the same for when he dies. And he’ll come here just… a normal kid.” Edward said with a shrug, watching as Art liberated the remote from Venka coming across a channel, Jacob coming on the screen and Ed making an annoyed sound under his breath.

“Personally the only thing I’m curious about is why the guy hasn’t killed over from blood loss, or even from those wounds in his chest.” Reaching over, he took onto himself and took the remote from Art, flipping channels till stopping. “Seems the Dodd search party have came across someone…” He muttered, grinning as he watched the actions of the David kid. “It’s really shoot first then ask questions with him isn’t it?”