Survival Of The Fittest

((Jimmy Brennan continued from Beyond Awkward))

((Thread is private, sorry for not mentioning it earlier.))

Jimmy Brennan woke up. His head was pounding, it felt as if he'd taken 10 shots of tequila and then been smacked in the face with a baseball bat. Not that he'd ever had tequila.

Or a shot of anything for that matter.

Groaning, Jimmy stretched out on the Gazebo floor, squinting in the morning light. The sun hurt his eyes and seemed to penetrate through whatever protection his eyelids offered. He desperately didn't want to move, not now, not ever again. Whatever enthusiasm he'd possessed before, killing Phil, getting his weapon, it was gone. For a second he regretted voicing that announcement to the cameras. What if Danya had passed it along? What if a horde of Phillips' angry friends were right outside the Gazebo, waiting to strike? He'd be slaughtered, unable to do a damn thing. His head was foggy and he saw bright lights and felt that world ending pain every time he dared to open his eyes. What the hell had he woken up to? Reaching out to his left, Jimmy brushed his hand up against the cool, calming feel of his prize weapon. The shotgun relaxed him, if only a little. He was armed, and that was enough. Still, the effort left him exhausted. What the hell had he been doing this entire time? His life since Phil's death... an uneasy blur of adrenaline. How much more could he give? More. Enough for another day, another week. He wouldn't quit, he owed it to Danya, and most of all himself. Quitting was worse then death, he was in it to win it.

If they think this is my limit, they're wrong. Fucking wrong, absolutely fucking wrong. I'll show them. I'll keep it up, keep up the momentum!

Somehow in the back of his head, Jimmy pictured an image. Danya at his desk, replaying his victory over Phillip Ward. The fat bastard shaking his jolly head, smirking in approval.

Approval.

"Jimmy, you motherfucker, I didn't know you had it in you." He'd say. "That's some hardcore shit right there."

It filled him with a sick sense of pride, but he welcomed it all the same. Just a few days ago he was unsure he'd be able to kill, make the cut. He was afraid of repercussions, of pulling the trigger and saying goodbye to his humanity like so many of his peers had. He'd gotten cold feet, but had he ever been more wrong. Killing Phillip had changed him, but for the better. He'd finally begun to take what he wanted, instead of sitting back and waiting for it to come to him. Four years of constant abuse and exclusion, finally he was getting his just reward. It didn't matter what Danya was thinking about him, not really. It only mattered what HE was thinking. Despite his burst of courage the pain in his body sapped his strength. He'd been lucky so far, no broken bones. But he looked like absolute shit, bruises and blood smeared all over his face. There were probably countless more kids out there who were doing far better then him, far better equipped. Could he really win the game?

I CAN win this game!

The only question was how. He felt weak and everything in him, every muscle and joint refused to move.
There's probably a hundred kids left, way better off then I am…. Then how the fuck am I supposed to win? I feel like I'm dying, fucking dying… I can't keep going forever, I just can't... But they can't know that. I can win this game. Just need strength, just need to remember why I'm destined, why I have to win. Why I'm the fu-

Jimmy rolled over anyway, grunting in pain, to look into the sleeping face of Rosa Fiametta. He blinked.

-FUCKING. BEST.

Jimmy's minded snapped back to a fully awakened state, as if he'd just had cold water thrown in his face. His heart hammering in his chest, Jimmy sat bolt upright on the gazebo floor, staring down at Rosa.

The beautiful Italian lay on the hard wood floor, snoring softly. Her hair was messy, a blanket covering her (bra-less?) chest. Jimmy couldn't believe his eyes. Images of the night before filled his mind and it seemed almost unreal, like an extremely vivid dream. It couldn't have been anything more then that, right? Carefully, quiet so as not to wake her, Jimmy leaned forward shaking with anticipation. He had to check. It couldn't be real. For all his good looks and bravado he was still Jimmy Brennan and what kind of girl would sleep with Ji-

YES. IT DID HAPPEN.

Jimmy Brennan staggered to his feet, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, like the days' before, the pain was pushed to the back of his mind. Staggering around Jimmy looked at the corner of the Gazebo, both his and Rosa's clothes lay atop their packs, tossed carelessly aside. Jimmy looked down and realized he was naked, safe for his dirty pair of blue jeans (although he was now wearing a new and refreshingly clean pair of underwear.)

He barely managed to stifle a giggle. It was as he were Cinderella and he'd just been given a fancy dress for the ball.

Clean underwear!

Naked Girl!

Clean underwear!

FUCKING NAKED. GIRL.

Jimmy staggered back, picking up his shotgun and dirty brown gloves. He'd evidently taken them off the night before, but they were his staple, his go to accessories (as gay as that sounded). Kids had always mocked him for his gloves, they were weird and it wasn't as if gloves were required clothing for St. Paul Minnesota weather.

"Just another thing wrong with you Jimmy, you fucking freak!" He giggled as he fit the worn gloves over his hands. "Who's laughing now?! Who got to have fucking sex!?"

Jimmy covered his mouth to avoid laughing outright. He didn't want to wake Rosa. Bending down Jimmy picked up his shotgun, grunting from the effort. The thing was heavy and pain laced up his arm when he lifted it. It wasn't tampered with (as if Rosa would do something like that), still stuck to safety, no bullet in the chamber.

Pristine condition, fucking death dealing machine!

Jimmy eased the gun onto his shoulder, humming to himself. The birds even seemed to be singing, or they'd always been and he'd just never noticed. The sun even seemed to hurt his eyes less.

"Perfect day. Oh my god, fucking perfect, fucking A, fucking amazing, fucking fucking FUCKING!" Jimmy sniggered excitedly to himself as he stepped out of the Gazebo and into the flowerbed. There was a path, but fuck paths. He was Jimmy fucking Brennan. God didn't dictate where he'd fucking walk. He'd fucking shit on the Pope's desk when he'd get back home. The smile still hadn't left his face.

I think I'll go for a MOTHERFUCKING walk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy hadn't gone far from the Gazebo, only to a small creek nearby. He didn't want to leave Rosa, or worse, get himself lost. She was far too sexy to leave behind, plus, the second clip from his shotgun was wedged in his sweater pocket back at ‘Base Camp'.
Despite his earlier foot wound even WALKING seemed easier. The world was lighter and softer. Phillip Ward was dead. Jimmy Brennan had killed him, and gotten laid as a reward. Jimmy could barely think straight. Random songs and phrases popped in and out of his head and immediately sprang from his lips. He didn't give a fucking shit who heard. He'd fucked an Italian. The sexiest Italian in school.

"I fucking fucked Rosa Fiametta, she sucked my fucking dick and I fucking bent her over, and she fucking LIKED IT! And- and- SHIT!- and she was moaning and they'll be selling fuckin' SEX TAPES of that back home I was so fuckin' beast, and I made her cum like, fifty fuckin' times and fuckin' Leila Langford probably WISHES she'd gone farther back at that mountain, because I fucking' ROCKED that bitches world, I fuckin' fucked her fucking fuck! Her tits! Fuckin' huge, fuckin' massive, she let me stick my dick ‘innem and I went EVERYWHEREANDITWASAWESOMEIGOTSOME. FUCKIN' SEX. EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE."

The creek was in sight. With a squeal of glee Jimmy tossed his gun aside and ran down to the bed, crashing down in the icy cold water. A split second before he hit the water, Jimmy regretted the decision. The water would be cold, and he'd be shivering for at least an hour. Then he remembered he'd had sex with Rosa Fiametta last night.

Jimmy splashed up out of the cool water, shivering and shaking, letting out a yelp. His teeth chattering Jimmy began splashing the water up onto his chest, thumping his head and his chest alternatively like a war drum.

"I come from the land of the ice and snow and the midnight sun and the fuckin' COLD CREEK BLOWWWS! HAMMER OF THE GODS. DRIVIN' SHIPS TO NEW LANDS! AH AH AHHHHH!"

Jimmy laughed insanely, realizing belatedly that if anyone were to stumble upon him they'd take him for an absolute fucking psychopath.

"Who gives a shit! Where'd they put their dicks last night!? IN THEIR PANTS. FUCKIN' FAGGOTS!!"

Jimmy screamed and dunked his head below the icy water. It felt good to finally have a shower, despite the pain and the shaking. He was awake and he could see for miles. Finally bringing his heads up out of the water, Jimmy shook his head, sending water flying every which way. He looked down in the creek. A disgusting brownish-red haze had seemingly leaked off his body, sinking to the bottom of the creek. Jimmy had no idea just how much grim and dried blood had been on him, it was both disgusting and amazing. Still, nothing could shake him from his happiness.

"It paid off! It did, I leaned in, I kissed her and BAM we were off, fuckin' GOD was she crazy, Rosa Fiametta, fuckin' Christ, she'd probably slap me if I told her, I think she'd dig that, because real men don't get hurt, so I'd be like- I'd- I'd be like ‘Babe, slap me.' And wam bam bam, then she'd see how I just took it like it was nothin' because really, that's what I've been saying all along, just need to get used to the pain, just need to realize if I don't have anything except pain, I can't ever go back to NOT being in pain, so it'sall, it's all just relative, I can take anything because it's nothing I don't already have see? I get it now, it makes sense, medical fact, I just need to stay in this then it'll be GOOD if she wants to slap me, and then it'll be even more awesome because she knows I'm got huge balls!"

Jimmy hit the water with his gloved hand splashing it up onto the bank. Dunking his head had been just what he'd needed after all. He was clear, devoid of any doubt. He was Jimmy fuckin' Brennan, and he was the baddest badass in Bayview.

"I'm the biggest badass, fuckin Kronwall? No way! Fuckin' Ward? Don't make me laugh! Roland Harte? Fuckin' pussy! I take'em all, shotgun blast to the face, BAM BAM BAM. AND MY DICK. IS THE BIGGEST DICK. EVER. ALWAYS. What kinda person doesn't want a hero like that? I'm a fuckin' Gladiator, fuckin' always wanted to be a Gladiator. See boys and girls? That's what it's all about. I'm the Fittest! I get to be the Fittest now! Eat your broccoli, listen to your elders, fuck whores, kill people, fuckin' Rock and Roll and you can be the Fittest too!"

Standing on the shore Jimmy laughed until he was gulping for air. Meaningless words swam before his eyes. He managed to take a step forward, letting out a groan of pain. Something… something wasn't working. He was tired.

So fucking tired.

"Ughhhh…" He managed to make out before collapsing on his face, inches from his shotgun.

Could rest here. Could just … Just calm down for…

((JJ Sturn continued from So Strange I Remember You))

JJ Sturn, when you first showed up on hellmurder island, did you expect to get a friendship out of the arrangement?

Whoa, hey, settle down, buddy. Don't worry, it's okay to call it that. Nobody here to gasp and faint and murmur disapprovingly because you have the gall to call her your friend. And don't worry, don't worry, nobody's saying that you're her friend. She is still a little standoffish and she is not exactly throwing hugs around (but wait, a little before last sunset, was that a smile on her face? Oh shit!) and she is not about to call you her friend.

But by this point, JJ had started to care about her. And that made her his friend.

Was that weird? Was that not okay to, like- okay, first things first. This wasn't like, a crush or anything. Right? Right. He thought. He hoped. God, why was he even thinking that? Fuck me, I- No, don't fuck him. Seriously. Don't!

And this also wasn't some weird piece of obligation, no definitely not. He wasn't trying to convince himself of anything, didn't need to convince himself of anything because when it came down to it, he liked this. He liked her. He felt pretty good about what he was doing, and on the occasions where she decided to speak, she was pretty pleasant company.

So this was all pretty good, right? Yeah. A good way to spend his time here on hellmurder island. Protecting her. From what, exactly? It wasn't like they'd actually run into anything hostile. A killer. A would-be-killer. A bear. None of that, nope.

But it'd been a good use of his time anyway. God knows there wasn't much better to do on this island. Despite what rumors you may or may not have heard, JJ Sturn was not in the business of killing people, so that was out of the question. And he also wasn't in the business of hiding out uselessly all by his lonesome, so that was out too. Plus his list of friends was pretty short, so not too much prospect for triumphant reunions, so hey. It all added up to the conclusion that following Claire was a pretty good use of his time.

Aww, it sounded so sweet when he put it like that.

So they were gonna head to a gazebo and see if they could rest there for a little while, because gazebos seemed like a pretty good place to rest for a little while. And they were going to befriend whoever they met there, because they were pretty much the two most likable and popular people on the island. And right now, at the gazebo, early in the morning, who's this we see right there? Oh.

I remember you.

Do you remember me? I hope you don't.

But something tells me you do.

((Claire Lambert continued from So Strange I Remember You. [I've got Claire as of this announcement.]))

It had been three days since Claire had taken a life, and she still wasn't used to the idea. The image of DK's shattered glasses, the blood leaking down his face, had haunted her. She'd had a lot of time to turn over the action, to try to figure out if it had been correct.

It hadn't helped too much.

She hadn't said a lot to JJ over these past few days. She had been kept quiet by the strange meld of emotions brought on by everything, by the situation, the killing, the memories of the terror of being pursued, and the realization, nearly surreal, that the boy who had scared her so much she had called her father in tears for a ride home, who had beaten his own friend bloody for no better reason than that she had refused to go home with him, was actually not such a bad guy anymore.

At least they'd been safe. They'd managed to stay out of the attention of the killers, managed to avoid the danger zones. Now, they were mobile again, searching for somewhere else to shelter. The gazebo seemed as good a place as any. The small size would hopefully ward away the other students, convince them to find better targets. If it didn't, they'd be able to tell at a glance, then move on.

And then, as they got close, they came across something unexpected. There was a girl. A girl in the gazebo. Someone Claire recognized.

"Keep calm. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Danya makes things sound worse for the announcements. Besides, it was her brother."

Still, Claire figured she shouldn't assume everything was safe. The gun she had taken from DK was in her bag, which she had taken back from JJ somewhere in the past few days. It was easily accessible, but she didn't want to start anything, not when it could all have been a mistake. The fact that Ilario had killed people didn't mean Rosa was dangerous. So far, she hadn't been on the announcements. That had to count for something.

There was no saying how Rosa would react when she looked up and saw a killer, though, especially one with a big guy like JJ. A big guy like JJ who had had very unfortunate dealings with Rosa in the past, who had a reputation around school precisely because of what he had done to her. Rosa could be armed, could be dangerous. Danya had specified that Claire had shot DK. If she kept her gun from sight, hopefully that would be enough to get her a little bit of trust. If she kept it close at hand, well, hopefully she'd be able to head off any attempt Rosa made at getting some payback. She wouldn't do anything until it became clear that conflict was imminent, though.

"No more misunderstandings."

((Rosa Fiametta continued from Beyond Awkward))

Rosa's eyes blinked open. Yesterday... the previous night... were immediately at the forefront of her mind. Not her finest hour, not be a long shot. The first thing she looked for when she awoke was Jimmy... not there. Fucking score. What she'd done... what they'd done together, it certainly wasn't something Rosa was proud of, but it had come to the only thing she'd felt sure wouldn't get her shot in the head. In honesty, the second Jimmy had kissed her, she'd known what she'd have to do. Already been expecting it, in truth, but the kiss was the knell. At that stage, she'd known there wasn't any other option. What could she say 'Oh sorry, I know we've got so much in common and everything but ah, actually I'm not into you get the fuck out of my face?'

No... no option. Not with Jimmy toting a shotgun. In any case, the Fiametta felt like she arleady deserved a goddamn medal for her acting. Not only had the guy been both too eager and too anxious to know what the fuck he was doing, but he would just not fucking stop. Every time he went off, he'd want to go again no more than five minutes later, regardless of whether or not he was even freaking able to. ... And she'd STILL had to get herself off.

Rosa took another quiet look around. No Jimmy... but Jimmy's bag and Jimmy's clothes were there, along with Rosa's own gear. Right so... he'd gone off somewhere, but was definitely intending on coming back (Well, no shit). That meant... shit, that meant that she had to be fast. The window of opportunity was likely to be small. Much as having a shotgun-toting partner would've been nice, it wasn't exactly a bonus when said shotgun-toter was Jimmy Brennan. First thing was first, get dressed. If Jimmy hadn't come back by then... running could be worth the risk.

As it happened, she didn't get the chance.

No sooner had Rosa pulled her top back on than somebody was walking into the gazebo. Glad for once to not be caught in a compromising position, it took her a second to realise who the newcomer (...newcomers, two of them), actually was. Not Jimmy. Nope.

If at all possible. Worse.

"Not you... no, not fucking you!"

Jimmy Brennan awoke with a start. For at least a minute he willed himself to move, finding his body mostly unresponsive. It angered him more then anything else. He didn't want to be awake. He wanted to sleep for awhile longer, a few more minutes.

Eventually he realized, he was laying face first in the dirt. Whether he'd passed out from pain or sheer exhaustion he couldn't be sure. The events of his morning walk seemed fuzzy, out of focus. His breathing was forced and unnatural. It felt almost as if he'd run an entire mile. With a groan he flipped over, wiping dirt from his face.

Where was he? He'd taken a walk, down to the river. How long ago had that been? At least an hour. It was a miracle no one had stumbled across him in the meantime. His classmates were everywhere it seemed.

A fuckin' giant sea of them. Drowning this entire fucking island in blood.

"Heheh…" He didn't exactly know why the notion of blood struck him as funny. But it was. Jimmy stared up through the canopy of trees at the rising sun in the sky. Despite his pain, he was at peace. Content, if only for a moment. It was hard going. It was near impossible for him to imagine anyone else walking his path. The daring, the sheer amount of guts it'd take.

I'm something special, I am.

With a groan Jimmy sat up, holding his head in his hands. He was still damp from his early morning swim and his clothes were uncomfortable. Slowly he reached out, picking up his shotgun. Sunlight glinted off the gun as he admired it with macabre fascination. He'd always liked guns. Now he had one of his own. He still wasn't used to it, it was heavy and bulky. But despite all its flaws no one could argue with the sheer beauty of it. It was semi-automatic, probably capable of tearing limbs off. The thought comforted him somehow.

Jimmy stuck the barrel down his throat.

He wasn't quite sure why he did it. He didn't want to die. He didn't plan on losing, especially not like that. He'd thought about suicide before Survival of the Fittest, after particularly bad days when it seemed like the world was against him. But it wasn't him. He was misunderstood, but suicide would be admitting defeat. Jimmy Brennan didn't lose.

Because Jimmy Brennan isn't afraid. That's why. I'm Jimmy Brennan, I'm the hero. I've got the entire world, they all know, they're all on my side, and I'm not gonna lose, not ever. Death is fucking nothing, same as humiliation. That doesn't happen to people like me. Death is for Phillip Ward, those fucking pricks of Bayview. They'll make movies of my life. I'll be a millionaire. Fucking faggots die at my feet.

He jammed the gun barrel further down his throat, almost gagging. It was side-splitting, absolutely hilarious. Try as hard as he could, Jimmy couldn't stop smiling, shaking with joy.

Can't do it, can you God? You can't make me pull this trigger, even if I wanted to. Destiny. I've got a fucking destiny. I'm going to make them bleed.

Carefully Jimmy removed the barrel from his mouth. Practically jumping to his feet, Jimmy began to walk back towards the Gazebo, grinning the entire way.

~~~~~~~~
Jimmy walked through the jungle, trying his best to avoid tripping on bushes. Careening between the trees, gripping at the trunks for balance, Jimmy was sure that any random passer-by would be convinced he was wounded. Or drunk. It was a much more convincing strategy then what he'd come up with on the mountain.

If anyone tried to take advantage of him, he'd simply shoot them in the face and take their supplies. Simple. Easy. No lying necessary. They'd started it, he'd finished it. He could barely believe he'd thought of the plan himself. There was no chance for Leila or Franco to outsmart him this time, if they were unlucky enough to come along. It was the perfect blend of trickery and violence.

Jimmy hummed as he made his way back, speeding up and slowing down the beat seemingly at random. His emotions were bouncing every which way as if they were in a constant state of flux. Combined with his clever, if somewhat bastardly plan, Jimmy's thoughts came out in a garbled stream of thought, thick with profanity and impulsiveness.

It was all for show of course.

Jimmy knew full well he wasn't crazy. But it added to the scheme. At least, that was what he kept telling himself as he staggered along. In truth, Jimmy didn't care what others said about him. They could call him crazy, the way he was behaving, but he knew otherwise. He enjoyed blurting out whatever he liked. There was no one could argue with him, no one who would ever think to question him. For the first time in his life, Jimmy didn't care what others thought about him. And it felt pretty damn good. Survival of the Fittest had changed his life. His word was final, whatever it may be. He was Jimmy Brennan, he'd slept with Rosa Fiametta, and he had a shotgun. The facts were infallible; Jimmy Brennan was simply better then everyone else.
A voice suddenly rang through the forest. Jimmy collapsed to the ground, the pain of a hard landing nothing compared to the constant dull throbbing of his joints. Lying in the dirt, a smile spread across Jimmy's face. That was a boy. One of his classmates.

"''s a player, or just some poor dumb bum fuck bastard?"

He couldn't be sure. The voice was far away. As odd as it was, he was spoiling for a challenge. Some poor kid, snot dribbling down his nose? Heroes didn't kill them. But a chance to take out Maxwell or the Kelly girl? Now that would be something. Jimmy raised himself to a crouch and carefully began making his way towards the noise, stepping carefully over tree roots and pointy rocks.

"Cut some scalps, like in the movies. Hang'em high, introduce some motherfucking face to some motherfucking bullets. ‘atta boy Jimmy. Not afraid. Better point a gun at me. Better come at me, cocksucker. Faggot. Fucking prick, Rosa'll see me. Ros-"

Jimmy's mind thudded to a halt. Rosa. He'd left Rosa unprotected, alone in the gazebo without any supplies or weapons. And they weren't alone anymore.

"S-SHIT!"

Jimmy sprang upwards, tripping over his own two feet as he began running in the direction of the noise.

Stupid, stupid!

For all his bravado, he'd committed a potentially fatal error. He'd seen this movie a thousand times. You don't leave the girl alone, especially if you've just fucked the shit out of her. And as heartless as he could be when it was required, he didn't dare to forget a single second of what had occurred last night. They'd made a deal. Rosa was just like him and she didn't deserve a bullet either.

She's not going to die if I have a fucking say about that. Oh no she's fucking not! I'll blow their brains out, they don't fuck with me, and they don't fuck with my girl. MY girl! They'll fucking die for this! I'll bash their brains in, just like Phil! They take another step at her, I END THEM.

He could feel his panic rising as he approached the Gazebo, they had company. Two kids by the looks of it, a boy and a girl. Jimmy scrambled, bursting through the foliage into the clearing. Rosa was saying something, more like yelling it out.

"Not you... no, not fucking you!"

That did it. Jimmy felt rage build up and burst through every bone in his body near instantaneously. His vision went red as he sighted the boy, his teeth grinding together in fury. He was angry. It'd been a perfect day but now someone was fucking with Rosa, and someone was going to die for it. He raised his weapon menacingly, stalking closer towards the three. Rosa was unharmed, for the moment. She had a look of horror on her face, recognition. She knew them he realized. How well he didn't know. There was another girl, Jimmy didn't have a clue what her name was. Some prep bitch by the looks of it. Not important.

But the other?

The rage melted from Jimmy's face as he came closer. A smile one could only describe as sadistic spread across his freckled face from bruised ear to ear.

My lucky day.

JJ Sturn was near impossible to miss. He was everywhere at Bayview. The football star. The basketball player. The picture perfect cunt-face jock boy, the one every blue collared dad dreamed of calling son. JJ Sturn probably didn't remember, let alone care who Jimmy Brennan was. That was his first mistake.

I remember you fuckface. Oh I remember you. I remember you and Phil, and all those motherfuckers just like you, who thought it was cool to fuck with the little guy. You thought it'd never be you, didn't you? But Danya had a plan, oh yes he did. Danya decided to turn the tables, up the odds. And now…

"Hey JJ!" Jimmy yelled, swinging his gun around to point square at the other boys' chest. The smile still hadn't left his face. It was time to be a hero. Rosa was watching. Not just Rosa… the entire world. It was time for a lesson on chivalry.

"Leave her alone you little bitch, come fight a real man! I'm not afraid of you, you hear me!? I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!"

What were you expecting to happen?

No, no, no, we already know what you're going to say. People were gonna run from me, people were gonna freak, people were gonna take shots at me because you're JJ Sturn.

And it already happened, didn't it? What was the name of that asshole that pulled a gun on him on day one? Harold? Harold. Yeah, happy memory right there. It happened right from the start, soon as he fucking woke up. Guys with guns chomping at the bit to fuck him up. Why should he have expected anything else?

And then what happened the day after that? Well, there was Claire, you see, and given how picture-perfect everything was between the two of them right now, you might be surprised to learn that they didn't really hit it off right away! She ran, she ran, he chased her across the island for a whole fucking day. But why would she do something like- because it made perfect sense for a girl to be scared as fuck of what JJ Sturn was about to do to her. Why should be have expected anything else?

And here was a girl (a girl? Oh, this is just some random one, yes?) freaking out the moment she saw him, and a guy with a gun getting just a bit mad at him. And he didn't want it to be true. And he didn't want it to be happening and he didn't want to admit that he'd hoped for something better.

That was... too much to hope for? Probably. You scared Claire once at a Subway, you're honestly going to compare that to the rest of the shit you pulled in high school? It's not gonna be that easy every time. And you're not gonna have just saved their lives every time. If you want to be able to feel good about yourself ever again, if you want to be able to look back on all that psychopathic bullshit and say I did something about it, you're gonna have to get to work.

So get to work.

"Hey man, I'm not gonna fight you." Hands up palms out, you're not threatening him and you never will. Why not? You were a big fucking man back with Harold, you acted real tough and you straightened him out and you put the fear of JJ Sturn into him. But not now, huh. Okay, maybe that's a good thing. "And I'm not gonna fight anyone else either."

"Didn't mean to scare anyone here, and I'm gonna... fuck right off now, if that's okay by you. I... I'm sorry."

That makes it all better.

Things got bad pretty quickly. Rosa looked up, and written on her face was recognition. It was strange. Claire knew that JJ wasn't perfect. She knew he'd made many, many mistakes in his time, knew that some of them were the sort of things that couldn't be washed away with kind words and remorseful gestures. Beating on your girlfriend was about as awful as things got in high school. All that considered, though, consequences here took on a whole new meaning, exceeded by orders of magnitude the repercussions that would normally be fitting for crimes.

She wasn't really sure what to do here. It seemed like the best idea was just to go off, let Rosa do her thing while they did theirs, and hope they didn't stumble into each other again. That wasn't necessarily an option, though.

"She could be hiding a gun, just waiting for you to turn your back. Don't underestimate anyone."

It was time to find a way out of this. They'd all back down and walk away. No need for blood to be spilled.

Then the scene became more complicated. Someone turned up behind them and started shouting. Claire turned, and regretted not having her gun at the ready. Jimmy Brennan. Jimmy Brennan was shouting and trying to pick a fight with JJ. Jimmy, who had almost certainly been exactly the sort of person JJ gave a hard time, exactly the sort who would hold a grudge. It also seemed like he was with Rosa, so they were now stuck between two people, one definitely armed, one potentially so, both with good reasons to be seriously unhappy about meeting JJ.

The strange thing was, as Claire glanced back to Rosa, she didn't seem all that relieved to see Jimmy. Her eyes were a bit wider, and she kept glancing at both him and JJ. Almost as if she didn't want to be near either of them. Jimmy had referenced her, though, had assumed that she was being menaced by JJ. Were they allies? Rosa didn't look like Jimmy's ally. Or could something else be going on?

Claire's eyes widened.

"No. No way. He wouldn't. Even here, he wouldn't."

But Rosa kept glancing between JJ and Jimmy. As if she was drawing comparisons. And Jimmy had that big shotgun. He'd won best kill. He was dangerous, whatever he'd been back in Saint Paul.

JJ was trying to mollify Jimmy. It was the same sort of thing he'd done before, when he'd tried to get Claire to listen to him. While it spoke well to his sincerity, it didn't imply much understanding of the situation. The smart thing to do would have been to walk away, to take JJ's lead. After all, atrocities were the norm on the island. Still, it seemed wrong to leave Rosa like that. No, that wasn't right; it seemed wrong for JJ to leave Rosa like that, wrong for him to abandon her in her hour of need.

"Maybe we should see what Rosa has to say," she suggested. "Maybe we should all put our guns down and talk this out. I want to be sure everyone is telling the truth here."

Maybe she just wanted to be sure JJ had really changed. Or maybe she just wanted to reach a happy ending this time. JJ... well, maybe he deserved it after all, and Rosa too. Not that she'd say it out loud.

((GMing of Rosa approved))

Jimmy had to admit, JJ Sturn was impressive. The boy was fucking huge, more like a wall then anything else. A Goliath, a freak of nature. Jimmy must have looked insignificant next to him, like a little bug. JJ Sturn didn't even look like he belonged in a high school. He didn't look like a boy. He was a man. A full grown man, capable of breaking anyone in two if he wished. Jimmy could pictures the football players hands wrapped around his throat, choking the life out of him.

It would be like squishing a bug.

Fuck that. Fuck everything about that. He was Jimmy fucking Brennan. He was never going to die, no matter what JJ was planning in that small brain of his. He would kill everyone in the entire world if he'd have to.

JJ walked towards him, his hands up, palms out. That seemed to anger him more then anything else. JJ Sturn shouldn't be calm. He shouldn't be anything close to that. Did he really things to be cool? Did JJ want him to calm down? Fuck calming down. He'd been plenty calm. He'd given JJ fair warning, but did he listen? No. Now it was Jimmy's chance.

He doesn't think I'm a threat, that's why. Even with a gun, even with my rep, he thinks he's got me in the palm of his hands. He walks into my house, threatens MY girl, thinking he's hot shit, just like he was on the outside. No no no, you stupid fuck, no. Whole different fucking ballgame.

It didn't mean shit all if he had a weapon or not. JJ was the weapon. He was a monster, a pretentious fucking shitrag and trying to appear as anything else was an insult to Jimmy's intelligence. Jimmy raised his weapon up, aiming it at the other boys' head.

"You arrogant fuck. Not another step!" Jimmy yelled, shoving his shotgun forward. He needed to be taken seriously. He had to. JJ had no idea what he'd been through. And Jimmy Brennan would be damned before he'd allow someone to push him around ever again. It was time for him to make the rules. And if JJ didn't like it, he could catch a bullet.

"You're sorry? You're fucking sorry?! FUCK YOU! Suck my fat one, you fucking cunt! Sorry doesn't cut it anymore! You speak when you're fucking spoken to, you faggot!" He screamed.

Jimmy took a step closer, shaking his still wet hair out of his face. He was mad as hell and the more he thought about it, the entire situation, the worse he got. He was shaking he vaguely realized, shivering not so much from the cold but with pure undiluted rage. He gripped his shotgun tight, his index finger hovering over the trigger guard. Slowly Jimmy circled in towards JJ, like a predator hunting its prey. The thought gave him a sick rush and he grinned despite his rage.

"JJ. JJ-bitch- HAH! How're you buddy? Kill anyone yet? That was a question Sturn. How many people you killed? I did in Phil, split his head in two."

Jimmy paused, lowering his shotgun slightly. His eyes darted over to Rosa. The poor girl looked terrified, most likely of JJ. Jimmy had heard of Rosa before, of what she'd done. But that didn't matter anymore. She was a victim, and he'd be damned if either of them suffered anything like that ever again. They were the good guys now, the fan favorites.

It might not have even happened in the first place. People like JJ, the preps and the jocks and the kids in the scene, they were the ones spreading the rumors. Maybe Rosa wasn't such a slut after all. What if she'd just been in the wrong place, at the wrong time? What if...? His eyes went back to JJ. He gave the boy an uneasy smile, turning into more of a sneer despite his best efforts.

"Don't worry JJ. He wasn't like you, he was a pussy, he died easy. Y'know what he did in Bayview? He was a fuckin' cunt, always up in my - my shit. Always making my life a living hell. Not like you at all JJ, no. We were always cool right? You and all your football buddies, you guys were cool with me. Not like Phil, you guys were always just messing around, ain't that right? That's what you guys said at least. Not like Phil. His head was like an' egg, not like your head at all. Fuckin' A..."

Jimmy was close now. He extended the gun, point blank, aiming it at JJ's gut. His hand wobbled back and forth, his scrawny frame barely able to keep the gun up and aimed.

"JJ, you don't leave until I- until ME- until Jimmy fucking Brennan tells you ya' can. You fucking shit. You think you can get by on smiles and knuckle dusters? Who you think you are, Holden? Fuck you. I'm Holden. Phony! Fucking monster, that's what you really are JJ. You even fucking REMEMBER my name before this week? What was I to you? Ginger? Fucking pussy ginger, crybaby Brennan- You didn't, did you? Fuck you! I'm not worth remembering unless I've got a gun to your head?! And then- then you think you can walk away?! That everything is peachy, fuckin' cherry pie you stupid fuck. Life doesn't work like that! It doesn't! IT DOESN'T!"

With a shove Jimmy jabbed the gun barrel forth, pressing it up against JJ's gut. He was red faced, tears of rage falling down his face. He hated, he hated him SO MUCH. It was impossible to describe.

"You don't get a free pass, not anymore! You listen to me now! You fucking do what I say, and you wipe that stupid look off your face! It's not gonna' be fine JJ, half your fucking friends are dead, so you don't get to say you're sorry or even TALK about walking away! You're gonna take me seriously, or I'll blow your fucking guts out!"

A crazed chuckle escaped from his mouth. The pain didn't hurt as much anymore. He was in command, and once more he had a chance to shine. JJ was scared. He had to be, and the thought pleased him more then anything.

JJ had once scared him. He once cowered at his locker as JJ and his friends walked by, pretending to be busy, pretending to be nothing. It hadn't always worked. There was no way to avoid people like JJ, not in high school. They were everywhere, every class. There was no foolproof strategy of survival. If you were their target, you were fucked. Plain and simple. And that was just it. It was random. It was spur of the moment. It didn't matter who the target was. It didn't matter about ethnicity or religion. They played with them all. They yanked all the strings and laughed at the puppets that jerked the most. They did it because they were on top, and they had the opportunity. They'd been playing Survival of the Fittest long before he had. But now, now it was his turn. He'd killed his demons, he'd won America's heart. And now it was time for another chance at payback, vengeance, cold and sweet. Images flitted through his mind. What could he do? Make him dance? Make him beg, cry? Cry... Now that was an idea.

"Alright JJ, here's what you-"

A voice interrupted him. Turning to look, Jimmy saw the girl from earlier standing near the Gazebo. He still couldn't think of her name, but he'd seen her enough times in the hallway to know she was with JJ. Perhaps even WITH JJ. That pissed him off, even more then the interruption. JJ didn't deserve that, that was for sure. JJ deserved death. And at the moment, Jimmy was all too happy to oblige.

"Hey! Bitch, who the fuck do you think you are!?" He screamed. Raising his free hand he shakily extended it towards the girl, balling it into a fist.

"Shut the fuck up when I'm talking, or you'll get double whatever the fuck he gets! You think I'm just talking to him? No, this is for America to hear! So shut your fat cunt mouth before I bleed you!"

Oh mother of shit.

Jimmy. Jimmy was getting in JJ's face, pointing that shotgun at him. In ordinary circumstances this would hardly have been an issue. The guy she'd just fucked raging away at her ex and threatening to put him away? Hell yeah. But... these weren't normal circumstances, because for one very BIG thing, such arguments didn't usually didn't take place with one of the parties waving a goddamn shotgun around, did they?

Rosa stepped back from them both. One step, two steps, breath coming rapidly, starting to panic a little. JJ, Jimmy. One guy who had beaten the shit out of her, one guy who was probably a bad word removed from blowing her to kingdom come.

JJ... that night... romantic, sensual, erotic. Everything you could ask for on... well no, that wasn't true. It had been a lot about the sex, and it hadn't been perfect, but all those things he'd said... JJ had always known how to make her feel special, wanted. Loved. How much of that had been bullshit? Look at that girl with him now. Rosa didn't feel jealous or aggressive towards her. Claire, that was her name. All those times that people had said JJ had turned over a new leaf, contrasted with that cut he'd dealt across her eyes, the swelling and the bruises that had lingered for weeks, turning heads everywhere she went around school. That fight he'd gotten into with Ilario, poor kid actually growing a spine for once and getting his ass kicked for it. Was JJ... worth it? Was JJ deserving of this?

He'd beaten her up. The worst anybody had ever hurt her in her life both physically and emotionally. Rosa had no physical scars from that night, but ... of her feelings? On her mind? ... plenty of those.

He'd wanted to back off even before Jimmy turned up. That look of ... well, what was it? Regret? An apology? Since when had Rosa taken any of those? Yet... since when had she been okay with people being held up at gunpoint just because she didn't like them? Just because she was Italian didn't make her some kind of damn mobster.

Jimmy... yesterday. Probably the biggest virgin she'd ever slept with. Of all the things he'd wanted to get up to... fucking filthy minded. Yet, for all that... Rosa knew him from around school. The kid didn't do himself any favours, but of all the people at Bayview, who had been kicked and beaten down more times than Jimmy Brennan? Maybe he brought it on himself, maybe others were just a little too willing to take advantage of the opportunity. And yesterday... apart from his talking up of his own prowess he'd... he'd been almost ludicrously grateful, like he couldn't believe his luck. Like... he was amazed to even... be worth somebody like her. ...Rosa's looks, or her as a person? Yeah, don't fucking kid yourself, girl.

He was protecting her. Getting in JJ's face, wielding that shotgun, backing him off, getting the guy who'd beaten her down the fuck away. Coming in and defending Rosa... 'Leave her alone'. The deal might've been made on the spur of the moment, in the interests of self-preservation, but... wasn't he helping her anyway?

He was holding her captive. ...Let's be 100% honest, would Rosa have ever given the SLIGHTEST consideration to sleeping with Jimmy if he hadn't been toting a shotgun? Hell no, Rosa would've taken her chances if Jimmy had walked in on her wielding anything other than a gun. She was just doing what she had to, and in that case... Jimmy might not have known it, but that shotgun was the only reason he'd got laid, and the only reason Rosa hadn't just up and ran the second he'd shown up, and now...

Now he could be about to kill somebody, not in her defence, but because of his psychotic little ego.

Rosa's eyes snapped between Jimmy and JJ, Jimmy and JJ.

AND SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO!!

Kick his ass. Kick his ass, kick his fucking ass, that's what you do in this situation, that's what the good guy does in this situation. And you're probably not the good guy (we've been over this already) but you're sure as hell trying, so here's your chance to make it happen. Make it right. The bad guy's right there, he just threatened you, he just threatened her, he just fucking threatened her, so it's your job to kick his fucking ass. Do your fucking job.

It would be... easy? Maybe. He has a gun, but if he's this close and if he's distracted and if you can make sure he doesn't pull the trigger by reflex when you deck him it would be... easy? Yeah, probably. Physically easy because Jimmy was a scrawny bag of shit, and morally easy because this isn't exactly your first time to this rodeo, is it? Wait, wait. Would this by any chance be the "beating up people who are way smaller than you and not fighting back" rodeo?

Whoops! Nope, not that rodeo. Though it makes sense that it'd be the first one to come to mind.

No, what was meant was that JJ has experience in the field of making fists fly when someone threatened Claire. Dan Kensrue, remember that asshole? Yeah, he... well, he'd kicked JJ's ass pretty bad, but the point was that JJ had gone in the moment it became clear that he was dangerous. And fuck, it didn't even have to end the same way here. Once you give him a good hit, get the gun out of his hand, nobody has to shoot him.

It'll be perfect. Nothing gets bruised but an ego, everybody's safe, JJ's a hero, and everything's in its right place. Job's done, you can go home now, you can rest your head and sleep peacefully. So do your job. Do your job, do your fucking job.

Not that simple, huh.

Yeah, not really. Problem is that... fuck it, there's still a chance. Still a chance it doesn't have to go down that way. Maybe Jimmy's all talk right now, maybe he calms down. Maybe all he needs to do is cuss JJ out a bit, maybe make JJ tremble a bit, maybe smack JJ around a bit. And maybe JJ is fine with that.

Yeah? You fine with that, all of a sudden? Sure, nothing gets bruised but an ego but daaaaamn that's a mighty fine ego, ain't it. Well, of course, but... fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end. If JJ has to say bye to his legendary streak of not getting beaten up by psychotic scrawny assholes on hellmurder island, then maybe that's not such a bad thing.

So say something here, and for once in your life, leave the word fuck out unless it's absolutely necessary.

"Jimmy, hey." Don't start screaming at him, don't tell him everything he deserves to hear right now. Don't you ever do that. "Leave Claire out of this, okay? If I can't walk away, I get that. If I gotta pay a price here, that's..." Little bit of fear in his voice. Which was probably good, which probably made Jimmy feel better, like he was winning, right? "That's fine. But she hasn't done anything. She's just some girl who had the bad luck of running into me."

Well, huh. that was almost accurate.

He wasn't listening. No one was fucking listening. It was making him mad. Very, very, mad. He shoved the gun closer to J.J, into the boy's gut. He was shaking in his rage barely able to keep his finger away from the trigger.

Why should I keep it away? I shouldn't. I should kill him. Right now.

"Shut the fuck up J.J! You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, so shut the fuck up!" He screamed. "I do whatever I god damn want, and I fuckin' kill whoever I god damn want! You count for shit all right now, you got me? You've got no say. You're not even a fucking person anymore. I'm in charge now!"

Jimmy smiled menacingly, swinging his gaze back over towards Rosa and the other bitch. Rosa looked terrified, swinging her eyes back between him and J.J. It just made him all the more angry. He'd ruined everything. He'd upset Jimmy's girl. JIMMY'S girl.

No one messes with the hero's girl and gets away with it.

"You wanna see what he's really like girls? You wanna? I'll fuckin' show you what he's really like, deep down!"

With as much strength as he could muster, Jimmy swung his gun forward as if he were stabbing with a spear, striking J.J in the gut with the barrel of it. With a ferocious growl he pulled back, bringing it forth again to smack the boy in the gut.

WHUMP.

"He's a bully!"

WHUMP.

"He's a faggot!"

WHUMP.

"He's NOTHING!"

And then, Jimmy felt his finger slip below the trigger guard. Time seemed to slow down. One last time, Jimmy brought the gun barrel forth, slamming it into J.J's gut. He looked up into the bigger boy's eyes, smiling a predatory smile. It was picture perfect. It was an image that would replay on television for decades to come, his redemption and his vengeance.

"Cry for me quarterback." He whispered.

There as a blast of noise, louder then anything Jimmy had ever heard in his whole life. Suddenly the smaller boy was careening backwards, smoking gun flying out of his blood drenched hands. He felt it on his skin, on his chest and face, sticky and warm. Jimmy hit the ground, a billion bolts of pain shooting through his tired and worn body.

But he was still laughing.

The situation was rapidly escalating, getting more and more out of control. Jimmy was no longer just screaming at JJ. He'd turned his ire upon Claire, too. He was clearly deranged. He was insane and violent. Things were not going to end well if JJ just kept going as he had been. There was a good chance that Jimmy would just snap and start shooting at them all. It wasn't really how Clair envisioned her life ending.

And JJ was right there, trying to talk Jimmy down. Trying to talk Claire's way out of this situation. Was he being honest? Was he really fine with dying? No way. He was trying to buy some time and space. If he could keep Jimmy's attention long enough, Claire could get her gun out and turn this from a stickup to a standoff.

Claire reached for the zipper of her bag, moving slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself. Jimmy was focused on JJ. He was shouting, howling, losing coherency in his quest to dish out pain. The abused turned to the abuser. Perhaps Jimmy Brennan had once been a pitiable individual. Now, though, he was repulsive, worse than those who had wronged him, worse than anyone back in reality could be. He was power-tripping, getting off on this. He was showing his true colors. Turned out, Jimmy was just like those people who messed with him, only he didn't have the strength to back it up. He didn't have that strength until now, that is.

When he started hitting JJ, Claire had her bag halfway unzipped, and was fumbling for the gun. It had to be here somewhere. Right around here. She didn't have too much in the bag. She was furious now, furious at Jimmy for beating JJ, furious at herself for not being quicker. At least Jimmy was predictable. He was having too much fun with his revenge to end it soon. She could send him away as soon as she found the gun. It was right here. It was—

And then there was a sound so loud it left her ears ringing, and blood, and she was pretty sure she screamed ,"JJ!"

((Sorry but... got nothing, thought this was already going to be a skip job, in honesty. Should've communicated better))

Intervene.

No.

Stop him.

No.

HE'S GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM.

I can't-

Rosa's eyes bugged out, her breath caught. Jimmy's shotgun was jammed into J.J's stomach. Time seemed to stand still for an achingly long moment as Rosa's gaze focused on that trigger finger. Tightening, tightening. Pulling so much that something had to give-

There was an earth-shattering boom.

Rosa screamed.

He just wished that time would slow itself down the right way, with him on the winning end. That would be great right about now, horrified expression slowly, slowly, slowly coming across Jimmy's face as JJ effortlessly moved out of the way of the gun and let fist after fist fly, Jimmy slowly, slowly, slowly shouting something out, like damn, JJ was gonna need to stop and listen for a few seconds to make out what Jimmy was trying to say- oh, haha. It turned out to be Oh fuck! all along.

Instead he had this bullshit where the finger was glacially pressing the trigger down and he was frozen, useless, waiting to die. Couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't? Wouldn't? Couldn't? Wouldn't? Which painted the better post-mortem picture, that he'd been stupid enough to think he could still make friends with a certain trigger finger, or that he'd just been too slow to do anything against Jimmy Brennan and his famous lightning-fast draw?

Dumb as shit, slow as shit. You get to pick which one goes on your epitaph.

So the eternity ended and the trigger clicked and no angel descended down to jam the gun or interpose himself between the two of them. And this is what happened immediately after that.

There was a great thunderous sound.

There was what looked like a bright flash, and then so much red.

JJ fell backwards.

Jimmy fell backwards.

And he was still breathing in. And his heart was beating. And his muscles were still moving.

And then he had all the time in the world.

There wasn't any thought to it. In the seconds after – minutes after, if he was gonna be particularly lucky today – he finally decided to stop laying into Jimmy – or perhaps had that decision gently made for him by the buckshot that'd recently moved in – he was maybe gonna put some rhyme or reason to it all. Revenge, or protection, or justice, or just good old anger. Some important word to wrap this savage beating nicely and lend it a sense of decorum. Some big important heavy word was gonna come, maybe, and announce itself as the why behind these fists.

Well, for the time being, fuck words. They hadn't exactly served JJ too well in the recent past.

And after another eternity or two – because those were being passed around quite liberally today – JJ wobbled and wavered and he was back on his ass and barely breathing. Jimmy, well, Jimmy wasn't doing so hot either. He'd stopped laughing a little bit ago, but he was still breathing. Still conscious, maybe. Still ready to get up and run his ass off the second it looked like he could get away, maybe.

Not still about to shoot them, at least hopefully. The gun hadn't stayed with Jimmy for the duration of the beating, and it was currently... currently... fuck. It was somewhere. It was over there, or... no, fuck it. Not really worth concentrating on right now. It wasn't in Jimmy's hands, and that was exactly how much attention JJ was gonna give to that subject.

And then JJ's priorities spoke up, and this happened:

"Rosa, I'm sorry. I wish I coulda done something. I really wish I could've..." Well, that was about as eloquent as he was gonna get right now. It wasn't much, that was for sure, but it was honest as fuck. It would've been great if he could've done something. Something more. If a team of terrorists had rapelled down from helicopters to kill Rosa, maybe, and if JJ had taken them all with his bare hands while catching every bullet coming Rosa's way.

Yeah, that would've been cool. Maybe next time.

And what about Claire? He was supposed to fight for her, die for her, something like that, right? Did this count? Was this good enough that he could say to himself that he'd just saved her from the grave threat of Jimmy Brennan? Was there enough time left to convince himself of something like that? Yeah, maybe. Maybe so. He'd, well, he'd done something, at least. He'd done something and... said nothing, huh. Not a single word for her before he went out, is that how it went. Well, uh,

"And, uh, good luck, Claire. Hope you make it."

Which was potentially better than nothing.

Uh, what next, what next. Dying was gonna happen soon. Important business to take care of before then. Okay, what business? Let's take a look at... what JJ's got on his mind...

"You two can figure out what you wanna do with him... I think I'm gonna sit this decision out."

And then... maybe something happened? Maybe it didn't. It'd gotten awful fucking quiet all of a sudden. For all he knew, they were furiously debating between themselves on what to do with that small red-haired boy over yonder. For all he knew, the red-haired boy had gotten up already and made a dashing escape, or had picked up the gun again and presented a fresh threat to their safety.

Fuck, for all he knew, both girls were saying thank you JJ, thank you thank you. And for all he knew, one of the girls was forgiving him, just a little, just a bit.

But if any of that was happening, JJ couldn't hear.

B035 JJ Sturn is dead now.

Jimmy Brennan couldn't stop giggling. He didn't care about the pain. At least, not as much as he'd imagined he would have. It was strange, surreal. He'd just shot JJ, he knew. He wouldn't be getting back up. JJ's blood and guts coated him and he ran his trembling hands up and down his face, feeling the gore on him. It was an amazing feeling, despite the depravity. Just a few minutes ago, this had been JJ, this had been one of the boys who'd abused him, ridiculed him. Made him a little bitch, cowering in the halls. But not anymore. Jimmy smeared the blood across his forehead, below his eyes. It felt good for some reason, the whole experience was... Cathartic. The smell was terrible, but he'd long gotten used to the smell of blood, his and the enemies.

Enemies. Yes. Not classmates. The monsters. The bastards.

They must love me back home. They have to, I must be a fan fuckin' favorite. Because- because I did it.

Jimmy stretched out on his back, struggling to finally bring his laughter to a halt. His ears were still ringing, and the stench of gunpowder, or smoke, or whatever the term was lingered in the air.

I did it. I did it again. Two of them now. I got two- two points.

Jimmy hauled himself up into a sitting position, shaking his head, trying to keep his vision straight. His brain wasn't working as it should he realized and he pounded a fist against the soil, willing his eyes to focus, see straight. He looked over towards his right, seeing the shock and horror on the faces of Rosa and the other girl. He smiled at that, cruelly. The girl had just seen her champion die. Probably her only chance to get off the Island.

She doesn't deserve to win, hiding behind a fuckface like JJ. Me, Rosa, we're the people who deserve to win. I should kill her. Should kill her too, teach her a lesson te-

Jimmy paused. They weren't looking at him.

What? But... I won.

His temper flared. Why would they be looking anywhere else? JJ was dead. He was the only one left standing, he was the champion. The worlds eyes were on him now. So why should they be ignoring him? It wasn't fair. Jimmy began to frown, opening his mouth to talk.

"Hey-" He started, before stopping abruptly, realizing just how muffled the sound of his voice was. Jimmy stared down at the shotgun, a few feet away. He suddenly was aware of an intense ringing in his ears. Raising his blood covered hands up, he yawned, trying to pop his eardrums back.

Just like on a plane. When you go up, your ears feel funny... Fuck. Just like that. When have I been on a plane? I... Awhile ago. That must have been years ago must have been-

And then, Jimmy saw him. His mouth dropped open. Hauling himself up against the Gazebo, blood leaking from his chest at an unbelievable rate. He was clutching it, desperately, trying hard to prevent his insides from falling out. Blood was all over him. But JJ Sturn wasn't done yet. The boy took a step away from the banister, advancing towards him. Jimmy couldn't do anything. He was too shocked.

This can't be real.

Another step.

He's not human.

Another.

The gun must have broke, the fucking gun-

Another.

No, no, no, I'm not supposed- I'm- I'm-

"But- but I killed you..." He cried out, his voice cracking, his tone childlike as if JJ had just broken his favorite toy. That was the only thing he could get out before JJ's fist came down to meet his face.

Jimmy Brennan began to scream.

The brutality of the attack was incredible. Jimmy couldn't believe it was happening, that anything was happening. He desperately wished to wake up, to see JJ dead on the ground. Not moving, not alive, dead. Fucking dead, forever. But that wasn't happening, and if things continued for much longer Jimmy would be the one never waking up. JJ grabbed hold of his neck with his left hand as Jimmy squirmed, struggling to get away. And then the first punch fell. Jimmy brought his hand up, trying to block the second blow.

No luck. He tried again. And again. And again.

No luck.

His nose was broken, of that he was sure. Broken and swollen, and god knows what else, Jimmy seemed to weep blood as often as tears in those first few hours.

Not hours. Not even minutes. Jimmy went limp, his feeble attempts at defense were brushed aside, JJ's fists pounded into his face again, and again, and again. With his other hand Jimmy clawed at his neck, struggling to remove JJ's hand. It was no use. His breathing was restricted, and his heart was pounding faster and faster. It was going to end. Right there, right then. And he'd never been more scared in his entire life.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP. CRACK. WHUMP. WHUMP.

He wasn't sobbing throughout the attack, it was more like a constant cry, an agonizing shout that just wouldn't seem to end, despite his throat being raw, his mind and body breaking in sequence.

And then, a miracle. He wasn't on the ground anymore. JJ's hands weren't on his throat. He was free. He was dead? No. He wasn't dead. He was in the air. Flying.

Through the air. Jimmy opened his eyes. JJ had him by the legs. He was lifting him up and Jimmy couldn't understand why. And then, he was twirling. That, he couldn't explain either. Was it a joke? Ring around the rosie- a ride at the carnivale-

And then he was airborne, flying through the air. It was surreal. Was he dead? Was this how it was like, ascending to heaven? Because if anyone deserved to go to heaven, it was him. After all. Jimmy was the hero.

He collided back first with one of the support beams of the Gazebo, the force of the blow so hard it bent the beam back, cracking it, along with a few of his ribs. Jimmy didn't shout. He didn't scream for bloody murder. He just dropped, pitiful and broken, down, bouncing off the rail of the Gazebo, one hand outstretched in a feeble attempt to stop his drop.

Jimmy fell in the mud headfirst, unmoving.

--------------

Jimmy Brennan sat in his room, looking down at his ruined clothes with a mixture of detachment and anger. He was clad in nothing but Boxers, his ribs visible under his skin. There was no muscle. His hands balled into fists, remembering that.

He stared down at the shirt. It'd been one of his favorites. White, the logo of the Dropkick Murphys displayed proudly on the front. One of his favorite bands. He'd gotten it for Christmas, from his Dad. One of the few gifts he'd actually enjoyed, once he sorted through the socks and underwear from distant relatives. It was ruined now.

Not covered in blood, but drenched in Pepsi. Jimmy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

I made it through the door. Dad didn't see me, that's good. That's the bright side.

Jimmy wasn't sure why he wanted to attend the football game. He didn't have anyone to go with. The school had still been ranting and raving over his now legendary exploits at the Hockey tryouts. Not one sympathetic look in the entire student body. He was used to it by now, but damned if he didn't hate it. But he couldn't say no to the game, or the pretty girl who'd sold him the ticket. Bayview was going up against their local rivals. They'd been hyping the game for weeks, and it was only 4 dollars to buy out of class. What did he have to lose?

And the girl hadn't even pretended to know who he was when she sold him the ticket. That was good. She probably knew yes, but she knew better then to fuck with him, especially if she wanted to make a sale. He'd been in control there, and it felt good, having something someone else wanted. He'd bought the ticket, and he was sitting close to the sidelines, just a few rows up in the bleachers. Across the field he could see students from the rival school, occupying the sidelines, some with posters and the like.

It had even been a good game, to start off. Definitely not a boring first quarter. By the end of the second half Bayview was up 14-10, but they were making their opponents sweat. Jimmy'd even managed to scrounge up some money to buy some popcorn. It was going good for once. No one in the crowd knew him, or even bothered to make mention of him being there. The obscurity annoyed him at first, but it was better then what he usually got. And then the row behind him had started up with a cheer.

From as near as he could tell, they were friends of the team. Decked out in Bayview Colors, some of the boys had even stenciled H-U-S-K-I-E-S on their bellies, like one would see at an actual game. Jimmy wouldn't have minded under normal circumstances. But these were the jocks. And they knew more about him then most people did.

"HUSKIES! HUSKIES!" All throughout the game he sat through their cheer, slightly on edge every time they started up. They pointed out some of the players as well, shouting individual cheers and insults to their favorites. A boy from the other team named Ryan was getting a lot of flak, for being a pussy evidently. They mentioned others as well. Brock Mason, a massive bastard who towered over all but a few members of the Huskies. Another Jimmy was out there, some kid by the last name of Robertson. Russo, and another kid by the name of Teo. And then there was JJ. The fans had a special place in their cheers for JJ.

Jimmy didn't even really like football. He'd never made the team, and it still stung watching the huddle, knowing that he could be one of them, if he hadn't been cut in the first tryout. But he was getting past that, because he was better then that. Jimmy Brennan couldn't afford to get hung up on the lit-

And then, suddenly, Jimmy was drenched in cola. He sat up instantly, cursing and staring down at his white shirt, now drenched. Meanwhile on all sides the fans were standing up, cheering and applauding. A first down. From behind him he could hear the shouts.

"Sturn! 'atta boy Sturn!"

Jimmy turned around, staring up at the group. One of the boys, his chest bearing the U in Huskies, was fumbling around, evidently the reason he was now currently drenched in Cola.

"Hey!" He shouted over the roar of the crowd. "What the fuck?!"

The boy looked up at him, a slight smirk on his face as he noticed Jimmy and his ruined shirt. "Sorry man. Can you grab the cup?"

His temper flared. Jimmy kicked the cup away, down underneath the bleachers. A few of the boys friends were looking now, curious as to what exactly was happening. Somewhere nearby a girl saw his soaked shirt and laughed.

"What?" The boy asked, more irritated then anything else.

"You ruined my shirt! What, sorry is all you can say?"

The boy looked down at him. Familiarity flickered through his eyes. He knew him now. He knew who Jimmy was. And... He didn't care.

"Fuck off Brennan. No one gives a shit."

And so he sat down. Shamed and embarrassed, dripping with coke, his skin and hair sticky. He left before the quarter was over, beating the buses back home. Sneaking in through the back, so his Dad didn't see his favorite shirt ruined beyond recovery. Knowing full well that it wasn't the stain that'd embarrass him if his Dad found out. He'd been disrespected, and he backed off. He hadn't won or lost. He'd run away.

One of these days, I'll show'em what I'm made of.

-------------------

Jimmy Brennan's eyes flickered open. There was someone talking, someone close by. He raised his hand up, struggling with every movement. His back hurt like he couldn't believe. His chest pained him, and blood was still leaking from his battered face. He had no idea how long he'd been out for, laying on the ground struggling to breath, half naked and once more drenched in blood and caked in dirt. His eyes looked downward at his frame.

Skinny, ribs showing beneath skin. Bruises showing atop everything.

This isn't good. This isn't good, oh fuck no, this isn't good...

He looked up. JJ was in front of him. Whether the boy was saying something or not, he couldn't tell. Jimmy reached out towards him, his tattered gloves drenched in the football players blood. He groaned, struggling to be heard. Rosa and Claire were there, in the distance. Looking at them. Looking at JJ.

I... I'm still here. I'm still here Rosa.

Jimmy brought his hand down to the ground, gripping the dirt as best he could. He pulled himself forward, towards the scene.

Taking my pride. Taking- right there. I shot him. He should have just died. I should have won that. Now he's got their attention again. That's not fair.

With a grunt of pain, Jimmy tried to push himself up. He couldn't. Collapsing on the ground, face first, Jimmy struggled to breath. He could hear JJ's voice, far away, growing faint.

"You two can figure out what you wanna do with him... "

Jimmy's eyes shot open wide. For a second he thought he was dead. But death would be a release. In death he'd feel no pain. This wasn't death. This was humiliation.

I'm not dead. I'm not. No, no, no you're the dead one. You're dead! DEAD!

And just like that, the other boy fell silent. And toppled over, quietly collapsing in the dirt.

Jimmy's jaw dropped. For the first few minutes he was sure it was his fault, that he'd willed JJ to die, through mind power alone. But that wasn't how it worked. He'd wounded the boy, fatally. It'd just taken a little longer for him to realize he should hurry up and die.

And he spent those few minutes kicking my ass. Even after my... Gun? Where's my gun?

Jimmy grunted, looking around. His gun was laying a few feet away in the grass. Undisturbed from its resting place. The girls didn't have it.

MINE.

Jimmy inched across the ground, finally finding purpose through the agony. His chest was on fire once again, if Phil hadn't broken his ribs already, that throw had definitely done the job. Jimmy didn't know how bad. He didn't know where, he just knew it hurt.

Suck it up. Nearly there!

And then he was there, hand wrapping around the barrel of the gun. He could nearly weep with joy. He wasn't dead. He was alive, and this proved it. And now it was time. Time to deal with JJ.

Get up Brennan. Show'em who won. Show'em!

With the last of his strength, Jimmy staggered to his feet, leaning on the gun for support, using it as a cane half the time Jimmy wobbled over towards the girls and the corpse of JJ, a shaky smile on his face.

"I... I won girls. Don' worry. I beat him." He said, his words barely legible. JJ had done a number on his face. His nose, his nose was worse then it had ever been. Tears and dirt and blood once more streaked down his face. Raising his free hand he did his best to wipe it away, but another wave of pain washed over him from his efforts. He was near the body now. He looked down at JJ. At his perfect body, well-muscled. Tall. His face.

A regular lady killer.

Struggling, Jimmy raised his gun up above his head, gripping the barrel. He brought it down weakly on JJ's head, the blow filled with more exhaustion then rage. He sunk to his knees once more, tossing his gun down next to him. He grabbed a mess of JJ's hair, and using it he yanked the other boys head up, before whipping it down again into the dirt.

It wasn't working.

Can't leave him pretty Jimmy. Just can't. Gladiators don't leave people pretty.

Jimmy grabbed his gun again, angling the barrel down into JJ's mouth. Once satisfied, a small smirk passed across his face.

He looked up towards the girls, his hand closing around the handle of the shotgun. Jimmy's mouth hung a gap, his eyes half-open, looking as if he could pass out at any moment. His head nodded forward slightly, before he jerked himself back to full consciousness again. He pulled the trigger.

There was another blast and Jimmy jerked back slightly, but managed to keep his balance this time. He looked down at what once was JJ Sturn's head. Calmly, he looked back up towards the girls, yanking the barrel out of JJ's now split apart head and pointing it towards Claire halfheartedly.

"Boom." He said casually.