Survival Of The Fittest

((Enter Aaron Hughes))

The first thought that passed through Aaron Hughes' head upon awakening was that something was wrong. He'd slept too long, and it felt like someone had beaten him over the head with a stick. Something was restricting his neck. He touched it. A choker? The hell?

He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes. No, wait. The room. The teachers. The blood. He'd been in the front row, with a damn good view. Yet here he was, back at the gazebo.

No.

No no no no no.

That wasn't right at all. No, this gazebo was all wrong. All wrong. Where was the graffiti, from when stupid freshmen had the need to declare their undying love? Where were the dents and scratches from people falling into the thing? Where was the peeling paint?

Where was Aaron, come to that? He'd been taken away. Taken away to kill. To die. No. No no no. Couldn't be. Couldn't be true. He wouldn't let it. Survival of the Fittest happened to other people, not to Aaron Hughes. He wracked his mind. What had Bounce said about it? She liked it, right? There'd been three other versions. Yes. He'd always thought that a bit far fetched. No one had caught these guys after three years? It had to be faked. Well, apparently not. Damn.

Stay calm. That was priority number one. He couldn't panic. He had to get... his bag. Yeah, that was it. The duffel bag. His school bag could wait. He knew what was in that.

He pulled the duffel bag over. It seemed light. That was good, right? He was pretty sure guns were light. He opened it up, and dug through it. What was inside? Food, supplies, water medical kit, Catwoman. Wait. Catwoman?

Catwoman?

Yes, there it was. A plastic action figure, eight inches tall, still in its packaging. Catwoman. That was Aaron's assigned weapon? His means of self defense? Catwoman?

It wasn't sinking in. He checked the bag again, just to make sure. No guns materialized. No swords materialized. Well, no matter. Aaron was already off in his head, in fantasyland. He'd left reality behind for a bit. No point dwelling on what sucked, right? No, he'd survive this. He had to. It wouldn't be so bad, really. A few days trekking around, maybe fight off some crazy people who attacked him. Get a group together like that guy Bounce had mentioned, Neil or something. Escape. That, or make it to the end, and finish the last, crazed survivor. Aaron could do that. Really, how hard could killing someone be?

How hard could killing someone be? Well, if what you had was Catwoman, it might be a trick. It was nothing like swordplay. It was time to find a big rock. A big rock and a pointy stick. Yes. Or something. Anything.

How hard could killing someone be?

Aaron blinked. Killing someone? Actually killing someone? Not just pretending? He'd pretended hundreds of times, but he'd pretended to die, too. To die...

Killing someone. Really killing someone.

He knew he'd gone pale. He looked around. Looked for what he knew was there somewhere. A camera. Yes. He had to stay calm. He was on camera. He couldn't look like an idiot to everyone back home. He turned, walked to the camera, and calmly, in plain view, removed the catwoman action figure from its packaging, which he dropped to the floor. He then held it up, practically shoving it into the lens.

"Danya?" he said. That was the guy's name, right? Bounce had said so, hadn't she? It would be a disaster to fuck this line up. "Hello, Danya. My name is Aaron. Aaron Hughes, 'cause I know there are some other Aarons around."

Well, that sure didn't sound suave. He had to power through, though.

"I just want you to know, somehow, I will find you. I will meet you.

"And then I'm shoving this plastic shit up your ass."

There. That sounded cool. That would play well to the cameras. And he'd stuffed the toy right up in the lens. It was so close, it blocked the view of Aaron himself. Blocked the view of the tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks.

Good.

(B131 - Tom Guthrie continued from Death is not a Game)

Tom had woken up not that far from the Gazebo, confused and disoriented, but when the first thing that greeted his eyes was a shiny, long and slender steel sword, he quickly got his mind into gear. He'd had enough reading to know that when you're put into a survival situation, the most important things to find are food, water, clothing, and shelter. His daypack and his own bag had provided the first three, and he had hoped that the Gazebo would have the last component that he needed to hold out on the island.

Only problem was that somebody else was there. Aaron Hughes, an all-around nerd. Still, there was plenty of room, and a bunkmate wouldn't hurt, assuming that the guy didn't have other plans. Not that he could do much, given that the only weapon he had was a weird Catwoman figurine, unless that was something he had brought himself, in which case Tom feared for the man's sanity.

"Yo Aaron, check this out!" Tom shouted as he walked up. When he had been walking along, the sword had been in the daypack at an angle, because the thing was way too long to fit in all the way. With the pack slung around Tom's shoulder, the handle of the sword was at a perfect angle for him to pull it out like an old-time swashbuckler. Only problem was that the sword was way too long, and Tom ended up just inching the thing out until it was clear of the bag.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Tom continued, "but I think this thing's some kinda replica or something, 'cause it isn't sharp." He ran his hand up the edge to demonstrate this, then leaned the thing on his shoulder to ram the point home. "Still, it's sorta awesome, wouldn't you say? Makes me feel like I'm a man...on the edge!" Tom snickered at his own joke, and leaned back against the wall of the Gazebo.

"So, you want to team up or something? I'll be the knight, and you can be the elf. If we find us a gnome, it'll be perfect."

(G039 - Francine Moreau start)

The sharp pain of consciousness broke into the relative peace of sleep and darkness that came hand in hand in unconsciousness. Francine's small frame would've made her sleep longer than her larger classmates, she had barely found drowsy eyed wakefulness in time to see the video Danya had so thoughtfully played for them. Now however, she seemed to get propelled into awareness surprisingly quickly, becoming feeling an ache in her side first, and then slowly becoming aware of the sounds of wilderness echoing around her. She pushed herself up groggily, blinking her eyes free of sleep and casting an eye around.

This was not the school camping trip.

This was Survival of the Fittest, the grotesque thing that threw high school students against each other in a macabre version of a game show. Francine had heard of it, who hadn't but she had never watched it. The gratuitous amount of unashamed, vivid, violence on that show had always turned her off, just like she couldn't watch CSI without her stomach churning a bit. That was all it was to Francine though, a show something that had to be put on, assembled and written in order for it to happen. Her mind couldn't comprehend it actually happening, kids like her classmates being turned into murderous killers in the span of a few days. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that the public outcry was real, that the show was not fake... still, she had never prepared herself and her hear to face it. The convenient lies had been to comforting and convenient to turn away.

Still, the vague images of the video played through her head, aftershocks of panic and fear from the presentation set her already beating heart into overdrive. Her chest fluttered and blood rushed to her face, causing ugly red blotches to show up even through her thin layer of makeup.

The reality of her situation crashed down upon her mind and Francine wept.

Tears streamed down her face as a physical testament to the fear, terror, rage, and despair in her heart. At first, she cried over her own situation. She had been a model student, never missed a homework assignment or failed a test. She had a full ride scholarship to Princeton for gods sakes. If you did everything right and didn't complain and did well in school, wasn't that supposed to mean your life was going to be good? She could think of nothing she had done to deserve this, no reason any person or god should be angry at her. Then WHY???

Shaking sobs wracked her body as she cried with no self restraint, no attempt to stop the flow of tears and hide it away like she had in the past. She stopped crying for her own future and then began crying for others' pasts. That girl in the video, all the kids who had faced the show before, they were all gone. So many lives snuffed out without a chance to bloom. No one would hold them again or see their faces, they wouldn't speak or laugh or dance or run ever again. Her mind reeled trying to comprehend the void left behind by the deaths of others, a void she had previously ignored. There was no way to calculate what they would've done, who they would've become, or how they might have affected the world if they were still alive.

Francine's panicked mind ran in frantic and desperate circles spiraling down and down as she cried. She sobbed for a good ten minutes, until she was gasping for air and her stomach hurt so much she felt like she was going to throw up. As her sobs dwindled down to shaking whines and eventually disappeared, her mind abruptly calmed and her thoughts became clear, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds of despair that had muddied her thinking before.

She was here now, and she had to do something. She was supposed to be a class leader, a pillar of leadership and faith... after all wasn't that why she had joined and run all those clubs, too look like a leader to colleges? She couldn't break down yet, this could all be a cruel joke, or blow over somehow, maybe no one would kill anyone else. Francine folded her hands in front of her and took deep breaths to calm her shaky breathing. She stood up, casting a look around and finding her back as well as a duffel labeled "G039" in blocky white numbers. She ignored the duffel for the time being, instead going into her duffel and pulling up a small makeup kit. She looked at her reflection in a small mirror, though she didn't wear any mascara some of her foundation had dripped down with her tears creating subtle but noticeable streaks on her skin. She took out a small cloth and wiped her face clean of the stuff, wishing that she had worn waterproof makeup.

A few minutes later she had fixed her make up and carefully, straightened her clothes, and carefully smoothed her white hair and placed it up in a high ponytail to keep it out of her face. She had to act like it was normal, that nothing was wrong, she was on TV and couldn't be seen freaking out she was supposed to be a leader. Deep down she also knew that if she acted differently, if she acknowledged the challenge Danya had given them, she was letting him win, bowing to his expectations that people would become savage when placed in this situation. She looked down at herself, satisfied, but when she swallowed she felt her throat tight and sore, and her eyes still burned from the tears she had been shedding minutes before. She may have looked put together but it was a ruse to fool even herself, but she would cling to it as long as she could.

Francine picked up her school back and the duffel bag, the latter obviously over sized for her tiny frame. She didn't think to look inside the bag for a weapon, the thought lost in her stress. She started walking and soon a gazebo came into view. Squinting, she could just make out two people. She hopped up waving one arm, "Hello-" she tried to cry out, but it came out as a terrified croak. She cleared her throat, steadied her nerves and tried again, "Hello!!!" Her small, lightly accented voice called out as she began running as best she could towards the boys without even stopping to think that they may not be friendly any more...

The second he became aware of someone else's presence, Aaron dragged his arm across his eyes, clearing them. He couldn't cry. Couldn't look weak. He was better than that. The person who had called out to him was Tom. Aaron didn't know him super well, but what he knew, he liked. He had a soft spot for his fellow geeks. Moreover, Tom was holding something really impressive. A sword. That was what Aaron needed. That would get him out of here alive.

Instantly, jealousy forced its way into his head. This was so unfair. Tom got a sword, and he got Catwoman. Someone hated him. Someone hated him and wanted to see him dead. He'd just have to disappoint them.

He couldn't really bring himself to resent Tom's fortune too much, though. Tom was clearly a cool guy, and sane to boot. The fact that he could still crack a joke in this situation boded well, at least, in Aaron's mind. It meant he hadn't snapped entirely. It meant he was coping. Aaron leaned up against one of the gazebo's posts and smiled. Then he said, "Quite awesome. Beats what I've got, that's for sure."

At this, he flourished the action figure, before tucking it back into the pack on the ground. Straightening again, he said, "A team? Sounds great, though we'll need a goal. And a gnome. Can't forget a gnome."

Excellent. That was easy enough. Now he had an ally. True, Aaron wasn't particularly emotionally stable at the moment. Tom's good humor had disarmed him, but he felt a wave of nervousness creeping over him. He'd made a mistake, a bad one. He'd told Tom that he was virtually unarmed. He could probably beat the boy off if he was attacked, but he really didn't want it to come to that. No, that would be most unfortunate. Aaron had no intention of fighting anyone he didn't have to. He would just keep calm, stay under control, and waltz through this. Make it to the end, defend himself, and leave. That, or escape. He was a good leader. Surely he could pull something together.

"Well," he said, "if I'm the elf, does that make me in charge of the plans? Or am I the sneaky one?"

It was formality, of course. He knew he was the one in charge of the plans. On some level, he was incredibly proud right now. He had held himself together. Sure, it wouldn't take much for him to freak out. He was burying his fears, not defeating them. For now, though, his acting abilities, honed by so many roleplaying sessions, were serving him well. He was cool, collected. A hero, of sorts, maybe, or a potential one. Let Tom be the dumb muscle if he wanted. Aaron was fine with staying in the back and giving the orders.

And then someone else was coming, shouting out a greeting. The first thought that flashed through Aaron's mind was the instinctual desire to grab Tom's sword, get in a defensive position, and skewer this interloper as she came. That would keep them safe. Problem was, it was totally insane, and not practical at all. It was stress talking, that was it. If she was well armed and ready to attack, she wouldn't have advertised her presence. Instead, Aaron shifted a little, smirked, and shouted out, "Hello! It's Aaron and Tom."

He could see the girl now. Tiny. Short and skinny. Incredibly light hair. He whispered under his breath to Tom, "Here comes our gnome right now."

The cry of "Hello!!" had made Tom instinctively wheel around, lowering his sword in a position where he could grip it with both hands. Judging by the weight displacement, he was holding the sword the wrong way, and he stumbled a little bit as he adjusted it. Whatever the correct way to hold the sword was, he wouldn't find it today, because the sight of the person approaching the Gazebo made him put the sword down immediately. He'd never met Francine Moreau, but he wasn't about to kill a girl, especially not one who had been clearly crying her head off.

"Here comes our gnome right now," Aaron whispered to Tom, and he responded by grinning and nodding before he returned his sword to its resting place on his shoulder. The thing was rather heavy, which was surprising, considering how thin it looked.

"Come on in!" Tom said to Francine. "We've got cupcakes! Well, not really." But if they did, somehow, have cupcakes, Tom would have gladly offered them. The lady looked like she needed some encouragement and a friendly face, and he would do his best to try to cheer her up.

Of course, it had occurred to him that the sad face might have been a facade, but if it was fake, it was far too late now. Maybe Aaron would be able to brain her with that figurine or something, because if a fight took place in the close quarters of the Gazebo, a long sword like Tom's would be next to useless.

(G121 - Lily Ainsworth. Start!)

Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

The world swirled and beckoned in her head, fantastic colours and empty doors flashing by as she fell. The wind kicked up the dress at her feet and she laughed without laughing, spinning once in the air as she slowly fell back to reality. A part of her wanted to stay, never wake up, but fate had other plans for her.

Lily Ainsworth opened her eyes slowly, soaking in the sunlight that blinded her. She slowly sat herself up and rubbed the unnatural sleep from her eyes.

"What..." She groaned, her mind chugging along slowly as she took a gander at her surroundings. Off in the distance she could make out the damaged tents and Ferris wheel of what looked to be an abandoned carnival. "Oh wow, I wonder if they have games?" She mused, her situation still not catching up to her.

The soft scent of flowers wafted up to her nose and she looked around herself, a small smile curling her lips as she began to gush over the kaleidoscope of colours surrounding her. "Bloody marvellous!" She laughed, taking a long sniff before standing and brushing her flowing skirt off. "I don't remember coming he-"

The bus, the gym, the blood that had hit her in the face. She raised a hand to her head and trailed it down, checking her fingers. There was no blood, though if there was it'd be dried, yeah? The ground seemed to sway under her feet as the realization hit her. She raised both her hands to her neck, feeling the smooth, deadly device that lightly squeezed her white skin. "No." She whimpered, images of the dead teachers flashing before her eyes.

The flowers grew dull in their colour, the carnival grew ominous in it's shape. The world was tilting upside down. Lily bit her lip and steadied herself. "Lily, girl, you gotta remember what you've read, consider this your story, girl." A light smile crossed her lips. "Yeah, I mean, this is just something different, yeah? You asked for it."

And she did ask for it, every day. The chance to do something her life depended on, the chance to be someone bigger than herself.

The chance for someone to love her.

Lily shook her head, telling herself to get her act together. She bent over and scooped up her bags, feeling the weight of both. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." She mumbled to herself, standing tall and turning on the spot to come face to face with the Gazebo and the three who currently resided on it. She had been so lost in her own world that they had probably noticed her long before she noticed them.

"Uh...Hello." She smiled, giving a polite wave. "Lovely day for a deathsport, eh?"

If Francine had been close enough to hear the fantasy jokes being tossed about she would've perhaps been confused, but as she was not, she merely felt relief when they called out to her, welcoming her into the gazebo. She made a dull realization that while she had fixed her makeup, hair and clothes to their pristine and neat condition, her face still held a strained expression of fear and pain. She didn't want to look weak, so as she approached she rallied her internal strength and managed to give a shaky smile.

"Uh, hello, I don't know if you remember me but I'm Francine Moreau..." Francine said with a slight waver in her voice. Her panic was beginning to die a bit, she felt assured by her classmates' apparent calm. She began to enter the gazebo and then stopped, "Is that a sword?" She didn't like it being there, the way he was holding it, just now realizing she had seen him raise it when she had first called out. No, no, she shoved those thoughts out of her mind and forced that bright cheery smile, entering the gazebo. "Oh my gosh I am so happy to see you guys, I was beginning to freak out and I don't know what I'd have done if I was all alone..." She set down her duffel with a thump, smoothing her skirt as she did so. A skirt, why did she have to decide to wear a skirt?

Francine had been focusing on Aaron and Tom, so when the second girl spoke up she was a bit surprised. "Oh, hello Lily... that's... not funny," she said with a slight frown, "No one's going to be doing any killing!" she said this last fact with a certainty that could only come with denial and a nod, her pale blond ponytail bobbing as she did so.

Well, Tom seemed to have the sword situation kind of under control anyways. He invited the girl in with a bad joke, but that was fine. Anything to ease the tension. Well, as much as possible. It was all pretty tense. At least Francine had no weapon visible. That meant she'd pulled crap, was trusting, or was stupid. Aaron could live with the first two. If she was just dumb, though, she'd be a liability to the group he was forming.

A group. His group, actually, it seemed. He doubted anyone would object. He had experience leading things. Well, roleplaying groups, but still. He was clearly the one being looked to, here. Clearly the one in the best position to run things. He was feeling cool and confident.

This is why the sound of someone talking to herself behind him, making him jump, pissed Aaron off to an inordinate degree. What the fuck? Someone decided to have a lovely little chat with themselves, about nothing at all? Because insane people were just what he needed right now. He had a team going, but a liability—which, given the girl's entirely not-funny joke once she realized she had company, she seemed determined to become—was not what he wanted. Aaron rounded on her, a biting retort building, and then realized she might have a gun, and stopped dead silent.

Then they all started talking, like one of them wasn't mad. The sane girl was Francine. The other one was Lily. Francine was chiding Lily for being insane, like that was going to ,make some impression or cause her to repent. Aaron took a few deep breaths, trying his hardest to keep his temper. He tried remembering why he had to stay calm, but the thought of that fucking Catwoman toy was not exactly a moderating influence. Still, he could beat this. He could draft them, and then, when something dangerous came up, he'd ask Lily to check it out. Yes. Then she'd prove her worth or get shot and spare them the inevitable psychotic breakdown. That was a plan. Yes. A plan. How had he forgotten to make one? With a plan, everything was alright.

So Aaron took another breath, and then managed to speak evenly.

"Well, Francine, Lily, welcome to the team, if you want in. We're just a small operation at the moment, but I figure if Tom here provides the muscle, and I provide the brain, and you two help out where you can, we've got a good shot at beating this thing. Just as long as nobody gets trigger-happy or anything.

"But if we're gonna work together, we have to be able to trust each other. That starts with weapons. What have you two got? I pulled an idiotic toy. Tom has a sword."

The move wasn't as teamwork-focused as Aaron was leading the newcomers to believe, of course. There was no way in hell he was trusting them, and he wanted to know what they could do to him now, before there was any danger. He'd surrendered nothing tactically; he could have bluffed having a weapon, but had they called him, he'd have been in trouble. Tom's weapon was blatantly obvious. No, Aaron was being smart. He was doing what it took to survive.

The folly of announcing his desire to beat the system directly in front of the same camera he'd just been cursing at never occurred to him.

Gah, that was a strange dream. I guess I'll wake up in a few minutes at the cabin or something. God this is a lumpy pillow...

Aileen Borden quietly stirred, her head resting on the "pillow".

Oh hell... she did not even have to open her eyes, and she already knew it was bright. Seriously. Did she forget to close the blinds or something? And why was she still wearing her glasses? Normally she would take them off whenever she went to sleep. Maybe for some reason she took a pillow outside somewhere, and then went to sleep. Why would she do that, though?

Aileen lifted her head off of the "pillow", and once she opened her eyes, saw that it was someone's bag.

Oh hell... that's someone's bag I was resting my head on, isn't it?!

It did not look like any bag she knew, that was for certain. It looked plain for the most part. Most students she knew would decorate theirs in some way, in an attempt to individualize each big. Heck, even Aileen would do something like that. But, who had this bag?

Okay Aileen, just stay calm. If someone bitches you out over it, explain as best as you could.

But god, that was a strange dream she had. She could remember watching some clip of a guy killing his girlfriend or something, and something about Survival of the Fittest. God damn that show! She really did not get why people liked it so much. The one time she ended up watching it in any way, she had to turn the damn thing off since it was probably the most disturbing thing she had seen as a visual medium. Seriously, why did people like it?! It was disturbing as all hell. Not only that, but she was pretty sure it was an act of terrorism. Why would someone support a cause like that? How could anyone watch it? It always made her feel ill to know her classmates liked that sort of thing.

But, it was all a dream, of course. See? When she lifted her head up a bit more, she could see the gazebo. Bayview's gazebo was a nice place for them to hang out, and so it was often crowded during lunch and after school. And hey! There was the ferris wheel in the background-

Wait, WHAT.

She was still dreaming, wasn't she? After all, why was there a ferris wheel just barely visible in the distance? It made no sense why there would be one nearby the school. Only in dreams did that happen!

But, something did not feel right. Something seemed off about the gazebo a few feet away from her. It... did not look the same somehow, but she could not put a finger on it. And she was pretty sure that they didn't use the same kind of flowers nearby, either.

As she brought herself into a kneeling position, her eyes laid on the bag a second time. However, she noticed a tiny little detail that she did not notice before. Namely, her name and "G022" was on it. And for some reason, she felt a strange sensation around her neck, and when she lifted her fingers up to her neck, she could lightly feel something that felt... metallic?

What is this shit? I swear to god...

Then she remembered. Oh god. Aileen actually was in the fourth version of Survival of the Fittest. Fucking hell! Now she was going to be raped to death or some shit! And it's going to be the fault of some terrorist douchebag who thought that for some reason her school needed to be abducted and killed!

Aileen felt herself start shaking, both out of fear and anger. It did not help that her head somewhat hurt, but it was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the amount of emotions passing through her.

Fucking hell... fucking shit... fucking piece of shit terrorists...

Hesitantly, though, she opened "her" bag (actually, there were two nearby, one of which was a duffel), just to see what was inside. One of the first things she saw was... well, some book titled "Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival".

Oh goody... now we can get advice from the a-hole himself.

And so, she did what she did best, and flipped through the small handbook, looking through it, occasionally rubbing her head to ward off the headache. Okay, so the thing did have some useful information. But the tone of this man was getting on her nerves. Seriously, he didn't even seem to find his little terrorist operation to be that important. Which, in a way, seemed kind of worse than if it was completely serious. And this "little warriors" business was really starting to tick her off.

Wait, was that voices she was hearing?

She could barely make them out, due to how far away she was, but it was certain that someone was nearby. Someone had shouted out a greeting, for example. A lot of "someones", actually. Oh god... people were nearby. And Aileen knew very well that she was actually one of the least liked people at school, as far as she knew. They would not hesitate to kill her in some horrific manner! She looked through her bag again, and saw what appeared to be your standard carpenter's hammer.

"... Helps", she mumbled to herself, taking it into her hands.

Okay, so she wasn't planning on killing at all. But, was she going to defend herself? Oh you bet. Maybe she could try not to kill them, but just use it in an attempt to get away. Aileen did not want to fight, but she did know she had to somewhere along the line. And frankly, the later she would have to do that, the better.

Aileen lifted herself off the ground, and started walking towards the noise, hammer in hand. Alright, so it was coming from the gazebo. As she got closer, she could hear the words "Great day for a bloodsport, isn't it?"

Oh god... people like that were nearby. It honestly did not surprise her that some people were not bothered at all by the impending death that they will eventually face. Her classmates were her classmates, and she knew how they all were. She felt the urge to sigh, but tried to stay quiet. After all, she did not want to give herself undue attention, now did she?

All she needed to do was blend into the background, like she always did, and just... well, people never noticed her. She was just that kind of person. So, all she needed to do was stay quiet, and not do anything stupid. Yes, stay quiet as she approached the gazebo, which may or may not be filled to the brim with psychopaths.

Oh hell.

However, she heard a voice that sounded... familiar. Who was that? It sounded like she had talked to this person in recent history, but she could not put a name to it. But, in any case, he (it was clearly male) mentioned an "operation". Like what? Something about weapons and not being trigger happy. And "beating this thing". What the hell was he talking about? In which case, she had to stay quiet, and not let people notice her. They probably would, though, based on where she was standing.

In which case, then what?

Tom had to admit, having a bunch of people occupying the same space was not what he was planning when he stopped in for this little chat. At this rate, the place would soon start to be cramped, and then where would they be? Stepping back against the side of the Gazebo, he began to wonder whether he was being shunted into the role of a generic minion, the kind who gets killed first and nobody remembers their name. Goodness knows, Aaron here was already starting to refer to him as his muscle, as if he had somehow become his personal minion, and he did not appreciate that in the slightest.

"Beat the game?" he asked Aaron out of the side of his mouth. "How is a team gonna help with that? Reality check: only one winner, remember?"

Not to say that it was every man for himself, but the reality was that they couldn't trust these two girls. Heck, Tom wasn't entirely sure that he could trust Aaron. If the going got tough, he was certain that at least one of these three people would take the opportunity and strike. He didn't want to get into a situation where he had to depend on other people if he could help it.

Lily frowned after the girl's comment, faltering somewhat in her approach. She didn't remember what she had just previously said, so it took a few moments of mental gymnastics to focus in on it. She mentally replayed her actions and flinched a little, she'd been a little callous. She tilted her head to the side, looking off at some point in the distance.

"Oh, sorry! I'm a little..." She allowed herself to smile again, her hands bunching the hem of her top. She hadn't meant to scare them, but they shouldn't have been so sensitive to begin with. She shrugged lightly. "Spacey."

One of the boys had begun to talk and once more it took Lily a little longer to focus in on his words. He had a spectacular face, she enjoyed the bone structure. Her mind kicked itself again as he mentioned the weapons.

"Oh, yes! Weapons." She airily giggled, kicking the bag at her feet. Without a sound she dropped herself next to the assigned duffel-bag and slowly pulled the zipper back. She almost felt like a kid at Christmas time and she was sure the others would be able to see it written all over her face. Inside she kicked herself again.

Christ, you need to watch yourself. You might know that you're okay but they sure as hell don't.

Her face scrunched up, her hand wavering over the duffel-bag. For a moment she looked incredibly sad, yet beautiful. "I'm sorry, for being weird." She said to nobody in particular. Her face immediately became sunshine and rainbows again. She dug into the bag, humming lightly. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a young Hemingway?"

She kicked herself again but continued to dig until she grabbed the somewhat obtrusive handle of her designated weapon. "Oh my!" She exclaimed, surprise on her face as the unloaded Mac 10 rose out of the bag. "This is somethin' else!" She continued, taking out a loaded clip. She looked at it, studying how it would go into the actual gun, before tossing it back into her bag. Lily stood and dusted her skirt of, standing tall and looking at the group with an small, but friendly smile. "This is mine, then, I guess."

Francine nodded along as Aaron spoke, both understanding and agreeing with his words. The strained smile on her face became one of genuine relief. These people didn't want to fight or kill, the Aaron guy sounded like he wanted to try to get out without any bloodshed at all! The prospect of a group was a comforting one, an area where she could pretend some sort've normalcy existed. It was something that had structure, or at least, something she could impose structure on. Her mind ran through ways to organize a group; this was much different than a highschool club, no important dates to remember, money to be raised or spent, or activities to plan for... There were jobs to do though, perhaps not things like treasurer and vice president, but surely things like gathering food or keeping watch could be departmentalized and organized-

Francine was brought out of her planning by Aaron's call to form a bond of trust between the others. "Yes trust! We really need to establish-" Francine was cut short as Lily pulled out the gun from her pack. It looked menacing, and it definitely was not just a pistol, was that one of the automatic kind, an uzi or something? The thing was intimidating, and immediately set Francine on edge. Despite what Aaron said about forming trust by showing each other their weapons, Francine felt more intimidated than ever by Lily, the way she casually tossed the weapon around, unloaded or not, and how nonchalantly she was taking this all. Francine knew the fear was a bit irrational; Lily was a nice girl... but the little bit of unease couldn't be soothed out of her heart despite the logic running in her mind.

Once again she focused on the task at hand. Her weapon right. Francine The thought ran through her mind that that should've been the first thing she checked... even if she didn't plan to use the weapon. She mentally cursed her stupidity, why didn't she look before it was so stupid of her?! Her hands passed over Danya's survival guide, that should've been the first thing she looked at. As she looked through the stuff she carefully placed each object in a neat row. Rations, map, compass, flashlight, the survival guide, a bar of soap, a first aid kit, and her bag for the trip were all set out for Francine to take careful stock of and commit to her mental inventory. For a moment she was confused; where was her weapon?

To her all she saw in front of her was survival gear: food, directional material, a bar of soap to keep clean of infection and disease, certainly nothing that could hurt someone here. Her mind ran over what she could remember of the horrifying presentation. Danya had explained the day pack contents, but she had been bleary eyed and half asleep the whole time from the gas. Then it hit her.

Francine's mental process happened quickly enough that she could play her delay off as her merely finishing emptying her pack of contents for everyone to see she was not lying before picking up the soap. "All I got was some soap," she said lifting the bar of soap up for the others to see. It was still wrapped in its paper wrappings, proudly declaring it was "DOVE for sensitive skin!" Francine gave a nervous laugh, "Not very helpful I'm afraid..." She set the soap down and carefully but quickly began repacking her duffel, hoping the others hadn't seen the momentary confusion and hesitation as she had tried to figure out what it was in her bag that was out of place. She replaced the soap last and kept Danya's survival guide out so she could read it. "At least we can keep clean if we find some water to wash up in!" she said cheerily to lighten the mood. She had not been looking forward to wearing dirty clothes, now with the soap in her bag and the spare clothes she got, she could keep her outfits and herself clean and fresh. Unfortunately, it would not help her and her tiny 5'1" frame appear any more useful or threatening.

She stood up, brushing her knees free of dirt and sparing the others a nervous smile. "So we've all established trust, we ought to come up with some sort've plan now, maybe write down our goals to keep in mind so we don't lose focus even if things get chaotic..." she offered the suggestion calmly.

Inside, she made a concerned effort to stay positive, Gotta keep things relaxed and normal, I don't want the others to get stressed then they'll just get scared and maybe run away or get hurt... God if I had a weapon I could tell them I could defend them and get food, but I can't... Stupid stupid I'm doing this survival thing all wrong what's wrong... I need to focus focus... MY PILLS! Oh god what if I don't have them I need all my brain power to keep the situation under control! Were they in my bag when I looked in it before? I think they were... I can't let the others see me take them though... next time I get some time when they're not looking I'll take a look and see if they're there and take one if I can... Gotta keep focus gotta keep working this is just like school if I apply myself everything will turn out right!

She hardened her expression into one of calm, brushing away the nervousness of before so she could be strong.

Well, Lily was clearly well-armed, as well as utterly nuts. Damn. Good thing Aaron hadn't bit her head off earlier. That was one intimidating machine gun. He sort of doubted she'd be able to use it properly, but then again, she wouldn't have to at this range to riddle them all. She would be the one to watch. He had half a mind to kick her out now, tell her to take a long walk off a short peer, especially after her non sequitur about Hemingway right before she produced the gun (and who the hell cared about Hemingway now, anyways? What did Hemingway even look like, if he was so distinct?), but he again restrained himself with good reason.

Lily had a weapon. A very nice weapon. She would be useful. She would be protection. She and Tom would be their best defenses right now. All they had to do was find some more people, then figure out a way to take out the collars and get a boat or a helicopter home. How hard could it possibly be? Or, failing that, they could make a desperate last stand, clear the island of everyone hostile, and then just sit down and refuse to fight. Stick it to Danya that way. Of course, whatever they did, it would probably end in people dying. Not Aaron, though. He was the right sort of person to make it through this. He knew the wilderness. He knew stealth. He knew leadership.

He just had to show the others that.

Francine produced her weapon, next. Soap. Worthless. Still, at least she had her head about her, carefully inventorying her belongings. That meant she would be responsible, could perhaps be counted on for the more boring duties, such as watch. If there was one thing Dungeons and Dragons had taught Aaron about survival, it was to always keep a double watch. One person could be easily killed. None was suicide. Two, however, gave you a pretty good shot at making it through the night.

Tom questioned their ability to beat the game. Then Francine added her own ideas, something about goals and writing things down. Aaron felt a flash of irritation. She was taking too much initiative, acting too much like a leader. But, wait, she'd left an opening there for him to reassert himself. Between her and Tom, he had this down. It was a perfect opportunity. A good leader couldn't ignore questions. He had to either address them or divert them, and Aaron could do both at once here.

"Well, Tom," Aaron said, "it's true that there's only one winner. Thing is, that's by the rules of this game. If we play by the rules, we've already lost. No, first thing you need to know about games is, if you don't like the rules, you make your own. You redefine victory and then you achieve it. Our goal isn't to 'win' this game by killing everyone else. We need to pick a new goal. Me, I'd like to survive. Secondarily, I'd love to get back at the fuck who threw us into this.

"Now, we'll need more people, of course. If we're gonna do anything, we'll need people, a plan, and control of the situation. Once we've got a group, no single killer will be able to target us easily. Oh, and Francine, great idea bout notes. You alright taking that job?"

Speaking of killers, Aaron took a glance around as he finished his statement, making sure nobody had snuck up on them. It looked almost clear, but then he saw...

"Hey, Aileen!" Aaron said loudly, gesturing to the girl. What brilliant luck. Aaron didn't know Aileen super well, but she'd been there that day on the lawn, when he handled Sarah's potential dehydration. It hadn't been necessary, but it meant she knew him, potentially trusted him, and might already consider him a leader with a good head on his shoulders. She would be the perfect addition to their crew, letting him firm up his power base with someone who would probably be a good supporter.

"This is Aileen," Aaron said, gesturing between the girl and the others. "We can trust her. Aileen, we've got a sword, a gun, soap, and an action figure. With that, we're gonna do are best to survive and bring this whole thing down in flames. You want in? Oh, and what did you pull?"

Better and better. This was getting better and better. Danya had made a big mistake leaving so many students here. If this pace kept up, Aaron would have an army on his hands soon. He would make that fucker pay. He was sure of it.

He would get everyone out, somehow, or they would all die trying.

((Enter B100- Rekka Saionji))

The world around him was being translated as nothing but a sick sea-saw of blurring hues and shades. Rekka found it a paltry reward for his endeavor in trying to get wake up. He spat out the dust that had entered his mouth as a passing breeze swept through. Mixtures of washed out whites and yellows slowly began to separate into slightly move vibrant forms, which he recognized as flowers and fencing. Why he was seeing such objects, he would muse over it after finding the fedora that was currently away from his head.

"Children, please quiet down."

His fingers blindly combed through the gravel covered land around him, searching the limited area until it came across a familiar curve. A sigh of relief was released, and Rekka reeled in the familiar possession onto his head. Waking up the sleeping logs he had acknowledged as his arms and legs, the slender Asian shifted into a cross-legged position. He took a moment to restore his trench coat to somewhat of its leather black color.

"...Welcome to Survival of the Fittest."

Those words continue to ring in his head, still fuzzy from all that had apparently occurred. Rekka could only clearly remember getting on the bus, waking up to a rather gruesome video of a man named John Rizzolo, and the lingering words from a man named 'Danya.' The title of 'Survival of the Fittest' was vaguely familiar to the young man's thoughts, recalling that his girlfriend spoke ill of what it showed. He had not seen the show personally to know what it was about, but piecing together the title and what had occurred the last time his conscious was up...it wasn't hard to guess the severity of his situation.

Rekka glanced over to his right side to see an unfamiliar bag with a small tag that read, 'B100- Rekka Saionji.' Pulling the object closer to the front of him, he made note that the contents were unusually heavy for a pack that seemed to have a lot of air space inside. As he opened up the day bag, Rekka eyes widened at what was laid in front of him.

Tins of crackers, water bottles, and the first-aid kit were just side-distractions to what comfortably sat in the middle of the baggage. Rekka found himself staring at a tiny gun, something that looked like a child could hold. The design wasn't totally foreign to the young man, recalling that some of the characters in mafia movies armed themselves with something similar. Several clips of ammo was provided as well, five to be exact.

Rekka couldn't say he was unhappy with what was in front of him, because a firearm in one's possession is indeed a huge threat. There was even a manual; instructing one of the proper maintenance and firing procedures to follow in using the said weapon. What had caused his mind to be heavy with new thoughts was the fact that this gun was his. Personal demons and family teachings aside, there was a disturbing thought that people may try to 'relieve' him of that item should he keep it public knowledge.

In addition to that, Rekka didn't think there would be a problem firing the gun. No, it was the maintenance and reloading he was more concerned with. Several a time did he see that Mafia gunners had their machine's stop firing due to an problem called 'jamming.' Rekka had hoped reading the operational manual would ease some of his concerns, but concluded that he'd be risking making it inoperable if he began tampering with the reloading process.

"I'd best keep this hidden then," he said.

Opening up the second bag inside the day pack brought some comfort inside. An extra change of clothes, a deck of cards, a small box of Japanese pastries that his mother packed, and some spare school supplies were still in there. Seeing the extra change of clothes was nice, though he didn't remember packing the navy hoodie with the white tsubaki petal design that Dawne had bought for him. Pulling that out of his sack to take a better look at the article of clothing, several other pieces fell out from inside the jacket. All of which seemed to be female clothes that could fit a girl about Dawne's side. Rekka tried to tame the smile that stupidly crawled onto his face, but being reminded of his girlfriend's antics did bring a sort of peace to the tense atmosphere around him.

He also got an idea of how to conceal his armament.

Shifting over to a place that was less open, Rekka quickly covered the weapon with all of Dawne's clothing. He left not a trace to be seen, wrapped in the undergarments and outer wear. The last layer to be placed was sticking his little parcel inside the semi-thick hoodie, which was folded neatly and placed back with the rest of Rekka's clothing. Under such padding, the metal weapon hardly made a ping!

That taken care of, Rekka decided to finish looking what else their host had graciously supplied. Something of particular interest was a handbook that seemed to be written by Mr. Danya himself. Letting his years of hunting drive his actions, Rekka peered around to see any unusual movements and noticed nothing. His eyes took a quick scan of the contents in the little booklet, with him making mental notes of the important facts. Now knowing that he was being watched at all times was something that no hunter would like to have on their shoulders, but Rekka had to accept the fact the roles had changed drastically. If he wanted to still play hunter, the prey would be his fellow classmates...even Dawne. The thought of claiming a life in the name of entertainment did not bode well at all with Rekka.

---

Familiarizing himself with what tools he'd have at his disposal didn't take as long of a time as he thought it would. Rekka was entirely grateful to his upbringing for having a semi-focused mindset. The thought of dying in the field was nothing new to him; it was potentially dying from one of his own that disturbed him. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Rekka dug into the medical kit and pulled out the standard issued scissors that was inside. He did need some sort of protection after all, and perhaps even a 'substitute' weapon should anybody question. Grabbing a hold of the handles, Rekka separated the usually joined blades and thus created two knives for his use. Two dull knives...but they were better than nothing.

"I should try and find Dawne as soon as possible, no telling what trouble she'd be in," Rekka whispered to himself.

He spun the scissor along his ring fingers, stopping it so it may be concealed in the sleeves of his trench coat. Rekka glanced from left to right as he walked towards the gazebo, taking care to try and stay out of open ground as much as possible. If Danya was trying to create a looming sense of death to everybody, it was evidently working. To count on his fellow classmates handling the news in the same mindset as himself would be a risk not worth taking, nor could he afford such a luxury to begin with.

He began making a small list in his head of what potential materials he'd need to craft some tools for day-to-day actions. Rekka would inevitably need to make a bow of some sort to hunt for meat, but he would also need to find a stone that could be used to sharpen knives or stone to even create such items. Going over ideas and possibilities, Rekka stopped his pace as he came into view of fellow Bayview students.

There was this tempting offer in his mind to quickly join their ranks and express such relief for crossing paths. What snapped him back to Danya's reality was the sight of the sword and gun, both wielded by members of that gathering. He was sure they saw him by now and was mentally reprimanding himself for not staying aware of his surroundings.

Rekka eased his muscles a little, asking the group, "Friend or foe?"

The answer they gave didn't matter as much as how they would say it. That was what Rekka was looking for.

Aileen was now close enough to hear the voices, and could start to make them out a bit more.

What were they talking about?

Were they talking about... escaping?

Aileen raised an eyebrow in thought. Didn't the a-hole say that any attempts to escape would be futile? She could barely remember another clip, this time about a boy doing... something. Judging by the comments that were made, apparently that was part of a previous escape attempt. But, judging by other comments from the douche himself, it was not so successful, at least from what Aileen could tell. She did not follow SOTF in the news very often, and so had no clue about their methods. But apparently, it wouldn't work twice.

She could hear some people trying to be cheerful despite all this. The voice that was going on about the bloodsports was now giggling, and apparently taking something heavy out of a bag. Also, something about Hemingway. What that had to do with anything, she had no clue. Another voice, presumably the one that had shouted out earlier, started talking about getting soap as a weapon. Soap... oh god, they really were shitting with them, weren't they?

A second male questioned the first's logic, pointing out that they had to kill others. The first male proceeded to point out that they had to live, and had to go for other goals instead, such as bringing the terrorist operation down in flames. Something about getting more people... something about a plan... nothing about notes...

Aileen was now close enough to get a clear view of the people inside the gazebo. One was... wait, was that the guy from the day where everyone thought Sarah was suffering from dehydration? Huh. Apparently it was. Aaron, of course. That was his name. Ah, at least she knew someone in this hell. The other boy looked somewhat familiar as well, but she could not put her finger on it. There were indeed two girls in the gazebo. One was oddly dressed, with bushy blonde hair. Aileen might have seen her around a couple of times, but no names were coming up, as usual. The other was also blonde, but this time her outfit was more... subtle, and she was much smaller.

Alright... stay calm, figure out whether or not they would be buddy-buddy, and for the love of god, stay quiet-

Aaron immediately looked in her direction, and shouted out her name. Aileen jumped at the sound, lifting her hammer in a guarding manner on impulse. But, he seemed... genuinely happy to see her?! Wait, really? Even with the hammer which could be easily be used to... well, she wasn't planning on using it like that, except maybe in self-defense.

He immediately told the other two girls who she was, and that they can trust her. He then turned back to Aileen and summed up what he was just telling everyone a few minutes ago. Yup, they were indeed trying to bring this thing down. But, was it possible.

"I got this" she lifted her hammer, though in more of a friendly manner than before. "I guess they want me to do some carpentry on my classmates' heads. Yeah, like that would happen..."

She finally stepped directly into the gazebo.

"I thought they mentioned something about stopping escape attempts or something. I would be up for any attempt to get the hell out of here, but how are we going to-"

She was interrupted mid-sentence by another voice, this time male. "Friend or foe"?!

Aileen spun around, and saw that there was another male in the area, and, oh, was he also oddly dressed. This time, though, he was dressed like how someone would in the past, like in the black-and-white photographs she would see in some of the books she read. However, he looked to be of Asian decent.

She turned to the others, and said as quietly as possible "I'll deal with him. He might have followed me here..."

Turning back to the newcomer (then again, she was new to the group, too), and replied back "Depends. Are you... you know... well..." she searched for the correct word for this situation. "... 'playing'"?

Then again, it might not have been the best response. After all, if he was out there shooting people like some sort of lunatic, of course he would say no, just to stay on their good side. How much did he hear? From a quick glance at him, and from Aileen's position, he didn't appear to be holding a weapon of some kind, but you never know.