Survival Of The Fittest

((B056-Raymond Dawson-start))

When Raymond Dawson opened his eyes, he was laid out underneath a tree, the leaves spread across the branches blocking the sun. Mercifully, as the headache that was pounding in his ears would not have been kind to him if he had spikes of sun stabbing into his eyes. He didn't panic, not at first. He was going on a camping trip, that much he remembered. Maybe he'd just opted to sleep outside, "with nature".

"Right." He stretched, and his hand brushed against the rough canvas of a bag. He looked over and saw the daypack, and soon everything came rushing back in a flood.

"How you do it doesn't matter, though I am personally partial to the tearful betrayal. You will be aided in this task by the contents of a daypack."


That fucker. That smug son of a bitch in the auditorium. Ray had wanted to rush the stage and kill him with his bare hands, body lock him and suplex him through the floor, sit on top of him and beat him to death. What was his name? Danny? Danya? Some shit like that? Of course Ray would've been shot, filled with so much lead he would've sunk in the ocean.

Ray had heard of the Survival of the Fittest show by word-of-mouth, but didn't think too much of it, thought it wasn't real and even if it was, someone would've caught the people responsible. Shit that B-movie crazy didn't happen in the real world, right?

And yet, here he was. Ray was somewhere entirely foreign to him, with the promised day pack of supplies. Here he was, away from his family

From Alicia

with other students who were likely going to kill him. Here he was, considering even doing the same

For Alicia

to them.

Ray buried his face in his hands and cried. He was surprised. Years of wrestling practice, years of coaches telling him pain was nothing in the face of winning, and he still could find tears. They burned, they stung. It almost felt like whatever he used to cry had atrophied with disuse. He felt like he was letting down his mom, his sister. Fucking shit.

Ray tried to compose himself, managed to dry his face and come back to the moment. He grabbed the daypack with one hand. The guy said there would be supplies and other shit in it. Time to see what was in store for him.

He unzipped the bag and rummaged around in it. His hand first fell on a loaf of bread, of which he took a small piece of and popped into his mouth. Not that he was hungry. Just felt like something he needed to do.

The next thing he grabbed was hard and cylindrical. When he withdrew this one, he choked out a snort. A bottle of fucking vodka? Really? Still, part of him almost wanted to take a pull of the alcohol, just to take his mind off of shit. He set it down, and kept digging. All else he found in there was the first-aid kit and some water.

"Weapon? Where's the...?" He looked back to the bottle of vodka, and shook his head in disbelief. "No."

But it was true. That was all that they gave him, and he was sure that was all he was getting. As his brother might've said (had he been here and not in a state penitentiary) "That's some old bullshit!"

Ray almost wanted to break down again. On an island full of potentially murderous students, other students he barely even KNEW, and they give him a bottle? To be fair he could've busted off the end and got a makeshift knife, but the sheer absurdity of it was amazing.

Raymond shouldered the pack and stood up, figuring he was better off moving than sitting at the tree fucking around. There was a building a short distance away, and it looked as good as anything. At the least he could hide and hope this would blow over. He started at a light jog. There was a bit of open field to the destination, but for the most part it looked like there wasn't anyone in the way. He didn't even bother holding the bottle, rather having people not be threatened by him then try to valiantly defend himself with it.

When he got closer he could see the place was some kind of medical building. He was hoping for a gun shop or something, but that was wishful thinking. At the very least he could grab some aspirin for this gas-headeache he was still sporting.

He headed in with one last look around, and already he was disappointed. Some of the cabinets were open, like his fellow students had already been ransacking the cupboards. He heaved a sigh but headed over to look anyway. Maybe there'd be SOMETHING useful.

((Brendan Wallace continued from D-Day))

The sand had long since gone, and now there was trees. Nice green tall things with branches like many-armed beings cursing the skys in their death throes. Shadows cursed the ground Brendan stepped, and made him question his choices. He didn't really make any choices, really. He just sort of wandered, hoping to find someone. So far, nothing. He saw a few people in the background, saw running, saw many other things, and stayed well away. In the shadows, behind hiding places, inside locales that no one would look.

As the path cleared in it's thickness, and the shadows became less domineering, he found some shelter: an old infirmary. And by the look of the door, it was already occupied. His hand slipped closer to his bag. He hoped he really didn't have to use it. Kimberly and Chris had already shown him the effects of someone with a gun first hand.

He knew that even when they didn't die immediatly, they would suffer. Bullets hurt, it didn't take a genius or Captain Obvious of the Kluatu universe to know that. Brendan would only use it for show. If they were hostile, he'd fend them off through bluffing. He knew at least 3 or four people on the island were playing, and he couldn't put it past anyone he wasn't familiar with to be playing this game.

He slowly approached the door, keeping as quiet as possible. No need to give anyone who was playing a wake-up call. Brendan grimaced at how much he was getting into the game at this point in time. He was thinking too much like someone who needed to play to win. It was part of his nature, this logical thinking strain of his, and Brendan was troubled by the fact that it was becoming more and more important that he needed to use this skill. If all that was going to be left of his class in a few days time was a mere fraction of his friends followed by his wits, what was...Brendan realised he was distracting himself from the situation at hand, and was now facing the ajar door.

It was still early in the game, so he took his chance and observations that the psycho:unfortunate soul ratio was going to be a lot more lopsided in this point in time, and knocked 4 times on the door.

"'....'lo? No one crazy in here is there?"

((G99- Jaclyn Krusche START!))

If the sounds of her eardrums being deafened by ringing wasn't bad enough, then waking up with your brain screaming bloody murder just put the icing on the cake. She brought herself to a stand, stretching out her strangely stiff body. Then it hit her. The reason why she felt like crap, why her head buzzed like no tomorrow, and why she currently was in an operating room.

Jaclyn's eyes widened, "W-Wait just a fucking minute..."

Fear caused her to crumble to a slump yet again, knees quaking in complete disregard to mental orders. She had heard of this show, even seeing a few clips on YouTube here and there. The guys on the JROTC and soccer teams wouldn't shut up about how amazingly 'fake' this Survival of the Fittest was. 'Look at the SyFy worthy special effects!' or 'I wonder who's gonna get canned next?' was sounding less pointless right about now. Now the tables turned and she happened to be one of the poor saps stuck on this god-forsaken cesspool. Just thinking she might now be one of those unfortunate 'can-o-corpses' made her scuttle over towards the nearest corner.

!?

Something pricked her index finger, letting a trickle of blood seep through. Jaclyn's eyes gazed downward and saw a metal tip the size of her lower arm. Instinctively kicking away from that, the full picture of a spear protruding from a bag with her name on it came into view. She had to pinch herself with the good hand and come closer to the better read the name on the bag. Looking it over twice, thrice, and four times over...there was no mistaking what was printed out.

G99- Jaclyn Krusche

That just about launched any hopes of this being a dream right out the window. Pricked pain? Check. Nauseating situation? Check. Scared shitless? Do you really need to ask?! The whole situation was just spiraling right out of control and Jaclyn need a to let out some of that chaos. Turning her head and searching for a particular object, she found what appeared to be an empty urinal. Deciding that it would do just fine as a stress toy, she grasped the steel handle and flung it with all her might across the room.

"GRAAAAAGGHHHH!!!" she wailed out.

Deafening sounds of Jaclyn's thrashing about probably could be heard throughout the whole floor. Cabinet doors flung off their hinges, desks crashed to the floor, her lungs screamed with vigor, and let's not forget her arms flailing the beaten urinal all around until it smashed through a glass window and out of the compound. Chest heaving from all the excessive movement and excitement, the young girl fell back down without another peep or sign of movement.

She wanted to cry, oh dear lord what she would give to have that pleasure, but there would be no use in doing so now. Who knows what heard that hell she raised just now? The answer didn't really matter so much as the fact she needed to get the fuck out of this room and the bloody hospital. Details would be fretted about later, but now came the check to see what exactly was available.

Jaclyn unzipped her labeled bag and saw a myriad of supplies. Loaves of bread, couple bottles of water, map, compass, med kit, and a survival guide. Taking out the guide and browsing quickly, the general gist of what was going on made a bit more sense. Out of habit, she recanted the information out loud,

"Okay...so gotta stay out of these 'danger zones,' kill the rest, don't tamper with these bitch collars, and always remember jackass can ping out any one of us just for the hell of it. Great. Just dandy-fucking-lion great."

She chucked the booklet out of fury right out the window. Her school days will now be remembered as a fight for dear life against the very same people she stayed with for three years. Jaclyn rubbed her temples, trying to calm herself enough to figure out what to do next. Seemed as if this Danya person also left their own backpacks too. No glimmers of hope in there, just a bunch of snacks and extra pair of clothes. That didn't stop her from rummaging out a single billiards glove from the front pocket and putting it onto her left hand.

Now that the whole world got to see her throw a tantrum, Jaclyn felt ready to move on out. Taking a gaze outside showed it was at least afternoon or so, though she couldn't say for sure. Grabbing a hold of the shaft of her given weapon, a small note that said 'Operating tips' was strung on. Jaclyn spat at the gesture, tearing it off and letting it join the other documents on the floor. She knew what a fucking spear was. It wasn't a halberd, so swinging the damn thing was pretty stupid. You thrust it out and gut the fool in the line of fire. No brainer whatsover.

"Now I just gotta get the guts to actually do it..." Jaclyn sighed. Who the fuck would be brim and ready to do such a thing in the first place?

Wielding the long weapon, she let it slide and roll in the palms of her hands. It vaguely reminded her of a reversed billiards cue, turned topsy turvy. The metal tip made the armament heavy and any thrusts with it felt cumbersome. What she found to be the most comfortable method of holding the tool was treating it like a cue stick. All she had to think was that it was a heavier, longer pool cue that can probably gut something like a horse. This spear's size was also troubling Jaclyn. It was unusually long, almost to the length of a color guard's flag back at Bayview. While that length would be nice in doing some routine movements to intimidate and also keeping people out, Jaclyn was screwed if they got anywhere near mid-shaft. The weapon was simply too big and she was both too petite and inexperienced to compensate for that flaw.

After a few moments familiarizing with the spear, she slung it onto her shoulder and packed up what bags were present. There wasn't much of a point trying to conceal the weapon. Even with a wrapping, it didn't take a genius to guess what could be underneath it all. Jaclyn was a bit grateful her present wasn't something stupid like dildo or a lunchbox like some of her squadmates used to gossip about. In fact, aside from the weight and tip, the spear felt somewhat familiar in a strange...abstract way.

Jaclyn slid the door open with her free hand and made towards the eastern halls of the hospital. Since this was a medical building, she figured to take whatever usable supplies there were and head on out. If someone else was present, then she'd deal with the matter as it came.

"Just better not get some psycho ass with a gun. That would make my day."

Ray almost jumped when someone knocked at the door. He cursed himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings, though he relaxed a little when the person in question seemed to not be playing. Still, Ray wasn't ready to calm down just yet. His eyes frantically scanned the office for something, a scalpel, a knife. fucking anything, but he couldn't see anything more threatening than an empty pill bottle.

He caught himself. "The fuck are you doing? No one's really gonna...no one's gonna try and kill anybody." He wanted to believe it, almost did, but he'd seen enough shit back in Detroit to know people could do some horrible things when the chips were down.

A loud scream and a sounds of something smashing against the walls rose out from somewhere deeper in the building, and Ray suddenly felt a little bit more welcoming to whoever it was at the though. At least they weren't screaming like an animal and busting the place up. Still, Ray put his back to the wall flanking the door and slid up to it, trying to keep himself covered in case the person in question was hostile.

"Define crazy." He said through the door, opting not to open it yet.

Mumbling. That didn't sound good. What would happen if they were like a crazy religious person who were mumbling to God? That wouldn't bode well. But then an almighty scream errupted from inside the hospital, and Brendan considered running away. Smashing also came through, and Brendan started to slide away. No need for more crazy people right?

But then a deep voice came through the door, closer, sounding a lot unlike the scream that came up a few moments before. It sounded relatively sane enough, so Brendan responded again. Part of his mind edged that little bit closer to the bag, fingers close to the zip should he need to wrench it open in a mere few seconds. But...there was something friendly about this voice. It didn't seem crazy, or manic, it seemed that little bit...scared. His hand loosened itself, Brendan cleared his throat, and he finally responded.

"Um, let's see, crazy..." Brendan started, using that little bit of satire he knew to to try and ease the tension "Crazy, insane, paranoid, playing the game, lost his mind, Clio Gabriella, someone trying to get off the island the conventional way, or someone wanting to die and taking as many people with them as possible. That defined enough for you, whoever you are?"

Now to wait and see how it would all turn out.

B021 - Neill Robertson - Start

The lights were out, but light streamed in through the large window. Every part of his body felt strange, out of place, too heavy. He was lying on his left side, dark brown eyes wide, focussing on the bed that lay between him and the window. His hand clutched at the matress, he took deep, shaky breaths. Behind him, he presumed, was the rest of the ward... and the door. The door through which someone could burst any minute, and he would be powerless to defend himself. Would they do it, though? Would one of his classmates come in and shoot him in the back before he'd even had time to register their presence? Would he be able to do the same to someone? Half of him wanted to play the game, to lead a group of people to victory, to win?

The other half wanted someone to come and shoot him in the back right now. Get it over with.

Figuring that he had to do something at least, Neill rolled onto his front, and from there off the bed, realising too late that he was about to fall on his bag and he didn't know what was in it. Something hard dug into his side, and Neill swore loudly, scrambling to his feet inspect the damage. The world span and he felt woozy for a second, as his mind floated back to reality he realised that the damage was non existant, though he suspected there might be a nice bruise there the next day. If he made it that far. Frowning, he knelt down beside his bag (which had been haphazardly stamped with his name and B021) and tugged at the zip, which refused to move. "Oh for fuck's sake," Neill frowned, wrenching it harder and it flew past the sticky spot and opened, his hand hitting one of the bed legs. "FUCK!" he said loudly, cradling his right hand to his chest while he finished opening the zip. Immediately obvious, and on the top, was a skateboard. Neill sighed.

"Well that's just great," he muttered. "Oh so useful in this environment." He put the skateboard on the floor next to him, and placing his right palm flat atop it and rolling it back and forth. The wheels were well oiled, and even with his lack of knowledge regarding skateboards he could tell that it was a good one. Still useless though. "I'll glide over the sand and bounce over tree roots and skate on water," he continued under his breath, rezipping the bag (up to just before the sticky bit) and using the bed as a support, rose to his feet. He put one foot experimentally on the skateboard and pushed off, then fell off.

Not be be deterred, Neill tried again, many times. After about ten minutes of practice, he heard a scream from somewhere in the building and fell off, annoyed, having just about got the hang of it. A few more succesful laps of the tiny, 6 bed ward later he skated towards the door and opened it, peering cautiously into the corridor. Determining that it was safe, he rolled backwards to the bed he'd woken up on and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, deciding to go in search of the screaming person, or anyone really. On his way out again, he caught sight of a cupboard, and a light bulb came on in his head. I'm the first person here, no one else has been at this equipment yet, and seeing as I got such a shitty 'weapon', I'm entitled to whatever crap got left behind!

Dismounting from the skateboard, he wandered over to the cupboard, and wrenched it open. A bunch of packets fell in his face, and he crouched down to inspect them, gauze swabs, lancets, nothing that looked to be especially deathly, and he had half of it in the first aid kit he'd taken a brief look at anyway. Sighing at his rubbish luck, he grabbed some gauze sachets and a handful of lancets, rooting through the rest of the materials and determining them all useless. The best weapon in here was a drip stand. And that wasn't even sharp. He grabbed one anyway.

Rolling along the corridor, a drip stand rolling along beside him, Neill kept an eye out for people down every corridor. So diligent he was in this, he barely noticed he'd rounded a corner, coming in the opposite direction to Jaclyn. Who was... holding a spear! Neill stopped shortly, using one foot to brake ungracefully, and furrowed his eyebrows. She certainly didn't look like the spear carrying type. But then, who was?

"Well, hi," Neill said lamely.

'Well...hi?' If that was not one of the most pathetic openings a guy could make to a girl, then the way he rolled on in with the skateboard should take the cake. Seriously, the whole scene looked straight out of one of those movies with a geeky guy entering to meet his love interest for the flick. The thought of her being that love interest gave Jaclyn the chills and it was immediately kicked to the farthest reaches of her mind.

Raising an eyebrow to the newcomer's face, familiarity slowly seeping in as she gave him the quick look down. That didn't stop a sarcastic smirk from joining her saying, "No brownie points for composure monami."

It wasn't much longer that the face finally matched up with a pretty fuzzy identity of Neill Robertson to her. She had seen him around the campus every now and then--a friend perhaps to one of her squad mates. Jaclyn wasn't all that sure of it, but point being that he wasn't a close acquaintance. Neill's weapon was most likely that skateboard under his foot and not all that menacing. What made her grip the shaft of her spear tighter was mixture of his height with the drip strand nearby. Nothing fancy to see there. Neill was fucking 'Andre the Giant' to her 5'7 standing, meaning a greater wing span and reach. Luckily they were in a pretty narrow hallway, so no wild swings from either of them would be happening any time soon.

She stayed right on the mark. Neill didn't look at all athletic, almost sickly in fact. Push came to shove, she could always play cat-and-mouse with the sequoia and be done with this. Words weren't really her strong point, other than giving an example what R. Lee Ermy would be like if fused with a banshee. This conversation was going no where and Jaclyn doubted Neill liked being stared down by a white haired girl with a spear ready for impalement.

"You're Neill right? One of my squad mates knows you I think from the JROTC," Jaclyn pointed out, using her free hand to adjust the aviation goggles nestled amongst the nest of pristine white locks. "Seems you got shafted in the weapon's department. Ah well. Get some air-time and smash a fucker's face in I suppose?"

She snorted at that last comment. Instead of trying to make peace and negotiate like civil people in the world, she goes and throws a suggestion of how to use a skateboard in a 101 killing class. Reeaaalllll smoooth... Now her conscious felt bad for teasing his entrance earlier.

"Where are you heading anyways Neill?" she asked with a small shrug, trying to keep the mood somewhat light. "Gonna head off to some quest with that mighty wooden 'steed' and 'javelin' of yours oh-brave-knight?"

Ray listened to the guy outside tick off a list of things that he was fairly certain he hadn't become yet

yet could start right here one less person between you and getting back

and relaxed. He wasn't about to go charging out there though. This fucker could come to him. Ray pushed the door open and propped it with his foot on the hinge. He got his first look at the guy, and while he didn't look like he was about to kill anybody just yet, Ray had reason to be wary. He wasn't small by any means, and looked like he was in good shape. If the guy was just acting nice, Ray didn't think it'd necessarily be an easy fight to win. Especially if he had something better than his own stupid fucking bottle in his daypack. Ray was sure he'd seen the guy around school, but then, he couldn't be sure. He didn't place meeting people high on the priority list.

"Not crazy, last I checked. You?"

So finally, the door opened. To Brendan's relief, he wasn't attacked by a crazed psychopath, and was instead faced with one of the wrestling crowd, the people he would never talk to in his life. He could barely remember most of their names, and this guy in front of him was no exception. Still, he probably didn't recognise him either, and realised he still had someone to answer too.

"Nope. Not crazy. Tired, hungry, almost been shot, seen people shot, and scared shitless, but not crazy."

Brendan wasn't really sure whether his lame attempts at humour would do anything. He had seen and memorised most comedy acts he had watched, but to try and recreate them was...pathetic.

"So can I come in?"

Ray stared the guy down for a minute, still thinking. The guy seemed to be more worried about living, than killing, like him. He stepped aside in response to Brendan, clearing the door.

"Free country." He said.

He kept his eyes on the guy, though. He wasn't about to let anyone get behind him. Not now, not fucking ever. Trust right now was water in the desert, and this guy hadn't quite proven to Ray he deserved a drink.

Ray stepped back and leaned against the wall next to the door. He saw the guy's daypack, and wondered what goodies his fellow student had gotten. He was willing to bet it was better than a bottle.

"There's someone on the other side of the hospital. They don't sound too happy." He said as he inclined his head toward the eastern side of the building. Part of him wanted to investigate, maybe hook up with a bigger group, but another part of him screamed at him to just get the hell out of the building.

Awesome, wasn't it? He had a place to stay now, place to rest. Brendan's legs were starting to get weary, so he slowly walked through the door, and noticed Raymond's eyes staying on him all the way. Understandable, at least. They didn't know each other that well, hell he'd only been at Bayview a year, and there was nothing stopping him from thinking he was a killer.

"Thanks."

Brendan's eyes graced the old, dark building and found themselves a bed. Walking that ever bit faster than before, he started over to the bed, threw his bag on it, landing with a hard *thud* on the mattress, and Brendan soon followed suit. He spread his legs down the raised hospital bed, and was soon facing the ceiling. Raymond mentioned something about other people. No, that wouldn't work for him. Other people just raised the chances of them playing the game. There was nowhere to run here, and if they were crazy, and wanted to play, he wouldn't be able to flee as easily as he could have back at the beach.|

"If you want to, you could look. If they come to us, we'd have the..."

Brendan trailed off, still trying to remind himself to not embrace the situation he was in.

As a peace offering, while bringing the bag up to his chest, he unzipped it, unceremoniously flashing metal to the rest of the room, pulled out the decorated box with the grotesque face still hidden inside his bag, and tossed it onto the nearest table, knocking over an empty pill bottle. He watched as it clattered to the ground, then looked back at Raymond.

"Boy 42 - Brendan Wallace. Assigned weapon - Blow-Up doll. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

((Charlotte Cave continued from Where is my Mind?))

Thus far, Charlotte's battle to maintain her tenuous grip on consciousness had been fought to a stalemate. Her steps had been slow and plodding as she limped alongside Robert, arm still slung over his shoulders. Shouldn't be far now... c'mon, infirmary, I know you're out there somewhere. She looked to Bobby, smiling reassuredly. I'm glad I was able to help, but...

"Hey," she inquired, "tell me something. Why'd you... y'know, why'd you come back for me? I knew what I was getting myself into. That... that the whole stupid finger idea wouldn't work. I just wanted to buy you guys time to get out safe... you didn't have to come back. Probably would've been smarter... so why risk it?" She knew Bobby was part of GodSPEED, that he and Rachel Gettys had a thing. It wasn't that Charlotte harbored any ill will toward Rachel, but the two had differing ideas when it came to how they practiced Christianity, to say the least. Charlotte's sexuality, meanwhile, was a well-established fact at Bayview Secondary, and it was doubtful Bobby didn't know about it. She didn't presume to know much about him, but when she added two and two together, it seemed somewhat odd that he'd volunteer Charlotte, "sinner" that she was, his assistance.

She was, of course, glad she was wrong. It was refreshing to know that even here, where so many people were certain to be out to kill each other, that she was, in more ways than one, not alone.

Within just a minute more, the two came on what appeared to be a small, abandoned clinic. "Seems like this is it." She was still in a haze, so she hadn't yet noticed that the door was ajar, or that voices were coming from inside.

Though he knew her name, and that meant that obviously they had encountered each other enough, Neill was still faintly surprised that Jaclyn knew his. He shrugged as she insulted his intro, and then proceeded to introduce herself in a far more interesting manner, Neill found himself intruiged, though her tightened grip on the spear made him feel just a tiny bit afraid of her. Just a tiny bit. He stepped off his skateboard with his right foot and used his left to roll it back and forth a few times, as though demonstrating that it did, in fact, work. It was a rubbish weapon choice, he appreciated that, but fun in these surroundings.

"True," he said, considering the skateboard. "Or I could just run away really really fast, or skate away, or whatever the term is," in the meanwhile trying to figure out what friend it was that they had in common, and he couldn't think of any of his that were in the JROTC, which, now that he thought about it, was some kind of army training thing. Fuck, this girl had military experience! Sort of. Neill wondered if she knew how to use a gun, or if spear throwing was taught. Were spears much used in the mocern military? Somehow he doubted that.

Neill grinned at her words, referring to his 'wooden steed' and 'javelin' despite them being about the least useful steed and javelin in the world. Now an actual horse, if he knew how to ride one, might well be useful. I wonder if there are any horses? Nah, they'd just get eaten most likely... He gave Jaclyn a furtive glance, and decided that she wouldn't be a threat in the next couple of seconds and took a moment to wipe his glasses clean on his shirt, talking as he did so, looking at her all the while. She was actually still fairly clear, being as he was long sighted and she was a sufficient distance away.

"Hah, if only I had a quest!" Neill said with a grin, feeling in a surprisingly chipper mood. "Currently I'm still trying to convince myself that this is all a dream and I'll wake up in the morning laughing," he trailed off as voiced drifted up from his right. He nodded towards it, "in the meantime I guess we could use some allies?" he suggested tentatively, actually feeling quite comfortable in the hallway. It felt safe, even with a spear bearing girl in it.

((Robert Barron cont'd from Where is My Mind))

The journey from the cabin had been slow going, a hard slog over rough terrain. Between his knee and Charlotte's own injury, He'd kept quiet most of the way, just being there for her, providing the strength that she needed to keep moving. Part of him felt guilty that she'd ended up so badly hurt trying to save him. And of course, there were still Owen and Petrushka to worry for. Phil was still out there, and still dangerous. As they finally approached their destination, he could feel Charlotte starting to sag more and more. Eventually, she stopped, turned to him and smiled.

"Hey, tell me something. Why'd you... y'know, why'd you come back for me? I knew what I was getting myself into. That... that the whole stupid finger idea wouldn't work. I just wanted to buy you guys time to get out safe... you didn't have to come back. Probably would've been smarter... so why risk it?"

His answer was immediate. "It was just the right thing to do, you know. I thought we were all making a break for it, and when you didn't come out, I got worried. I'm not going to be able to run far, so I hid." He indicated his knee brace, in case his problems weren't clear. "And when I heard you scream- You shouldn't have had to go through that. Not for me."

He paused. In his head, at the time it had seemed like the only path. On reflection, it had been foolhardy at best. He'd heard Phil's threats. And yet he'd gone back to help her without hesitation. Maybe it was time to stop hesitating about other things. "Besides, we gays have to stick together." Now that he'd said it, he felt so relieved. If he ever made it off the island, he was in no doubt that he'd have to have a long talk with his parents, but there would be time enough for that. For now, he had to try and get some help for Charlotte. "Now come on, we're almost there."

The clinic itself was small, but Robert hoped that it would have enough supplies that he could at least clean and dress his companions wounds properly. Petrushka had done an admirable job as a field medic, but he wanted to make sure that there was no chance of infection.

"Seems like this is it."

"I guess so. Wait here, I'll make sure its ok." He approached the open door, and listened. A voice he half recognised was talking about allies. It was more promising than talking about targets. He knocked on the door and spoke loudly. "Hello? Who's in there? I have a wounded girl out here. Can we come in?"

A smirk creeped onto her rounded face. This guy knew how to toss out the words and get a momentum going for conversations. Not a bad skill to have in a time like this, but it made her uneasy. The longer she stayed with Neill, the more apparent it became this guy wasn't a fighter at all. If the situation got too hot...the biggest threat this guy would possible use is the almighty 'magic' that is talking. That wouldn't do at all. Sure, words could kill, albeit it's a mental breakdown that takes a lot of time and care. It also didn't work on those who were either too stupid, hearing impaired, or really just didn't give two shits about what you were saying. Unfortunately for her associate, she happened to fit into one or more of those categories.

Jaclyn was poised and ready to toss out a 'wiseass' comment herself, when a small ruckus right outside the building caught her attention instead. Instincts issuing the orders, she motioned for Neill to move towards a wall and out of sight, which she soon did right after to a window-side. Taking extra care to keep the spear concealed behind the edges of the wall, Jaclyn peered over towards the direction of the sound.

The sight of seeing a girl moving around with a lot of effort and her male companion was all that could be viewed. How ironic. Neill was just talking about allies and look who comes waltzing on in! That would be a nice, rosie-posie picture wouldn't it? Jaclyn didn't like the smell of it. Perhaps they were really what they appeared and just needed help; that didn't excuse the fact that one of those members is now a liability until they were treated. She herself, knew some first-aid from JROTC, but that meant setting aside the only thing that offered good protection. Having not actually gone through boot-camp for the military, Jaclyn's knowledge in CQC was all but limited to street brawling. That skill was not something she would be using to win championships anytime soon, just knowing enough to disarm and get away as soon as possible.

"Now it's a decision between being a good Samaritan...or being a survivor." She sighed. Neill would want to save them, no doubts there. Jaclyn gave him a small glare, as she turned her head to face him to whisper, "I rather not have liabilities trail around or a really big group. Makes it hard to move about. Figuring some random idiot would see a legion before a small squad first after all..."

All this over analyzing was making her head hurt. She shifted her grip on the spear for a bit and fixed the aviator goggles onto her face. A forceful habit she did while in a pinch. Moments passed, and the people outside were still waiting. Any longer would raise suspicion, so out went the 'gut' feeling!

"Give me your names! I don't care to associate with people who don't have one." Jaclyn shouted back, something that would buy them a few more seconds to think. She wouldn't waste them either, immediately returning her attention to Neill.

"Hey...you don't have to stick around for this. More than likely, I'm gonna patch up the wounded girl and see what they know. Ain't expecting much, but the more intel the better. Do what you will Neill."

Her focus was now back to waiting for their response.