Survival Of The Fittest

(Naoko Raidon continued from Retribution)

He didn't bother moving any of the numerous bodies; he simply frowned at the splayed outlines of corpses beneath white sheets.

Someone had taken care of thse people. He idly wondered who.

As of this moment, Naoko Raidon had nothing left in him. He had wandered down the mountain and into the dark of night; he'd made his battered, limping way to the Infirmary because he needed to treat his injuries and, effective as his multiple first aid kits were (every body he'd come across he'd raided for its first aid supplies), he wanted to be sure there was nothing more he could do.

Turned out there really wasn't anything here for him. Just the ghostly outlines of the dead amidst a smashed ruin of a building.

Raidon shrugged and made his way to a bed that remained upright. He wondered how close they were to the new Announcements--wondered who else had made it through the night.

Shrugged again, and went to work on his injuries.

((Fiona Sparki continued from Deep Warm Drunk))

She didn't see. She didn't feel or experience. She merely existed, walking from location to location as if she were in a blur. Fiona desperately tried to drown herself in feelings of happy optimism as she had done countless times before, but it seemed too late and much too difficult. There comes a certain point in someone's life where you just can't handle seeing so many friends/people dying right before their very eyes. It does things to you, and Fiona merely decided that she was done. She was done with being friendly and optimistic, she was done with trying to find companions, and she was done with surviving.

She'd never make it out of this, it was painfully clear to her. She'd never go off to college, and she'd never be back with her cheerleading pals or her chorus team. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable, and it was beginning to become a bit much.

Then again, she'd lasted this long, right? People had died in terrible ways all around her, and Fiona had managed to sidestep it all. How? How had the awkward, bumbling plump girl beat the odds when most others couldn't even go a day without getting blown up or slaughtered by something, or rather, someone. It was almost funny, but she had to wonder when her time was up. When was the reaper coming for her?

She was too chicken to end it all. She could have if she wanted, one quick bullet to the skull. But it was the after part that scared her. No, Fiona wasn't afraid of death. Frankly, she didn't give a fuck if she went to Heaven or Hell, or if there really was some eternal sleep. Fiona liked sleeping, so yay. Maybe, as the ancient Egyptians believed, there was a Happy Field of Food! Fuck, that sounded amazing about now. An endless field of nothing but delicious food, a buffet full of Fiona's favorites. Suicide seemed pleasing, but she had to remind herself that the ancient Egyptians also believed in a lot of other crazy things. So maybe the Happy Field of Field didn't really exist.

No, it was what happened to Fiona during the game that scared her. Once she died, where would they put her body? Would her parents ever get some closure? Would she just become a statistic? Would her existence be dwindled down to merely a name and a number, perhaps a simple description of her death? Probably mocked, too.

No, it scared her too much. She'd just have to keep going on because it was better than the unknown. Well, surviving was pretty unknown too, but it seemed lesser unknown than dying.

A building came into view, and a quick check of the map revealed that it was the infirmary. The building was in terrible condition, and something was screaming at her to avoid it. What happened the last time she wandered into some building? Her friend was shot dead, and Fiona was wearing the proof of it all over her shirt. But... she was tired and hot and sticky, and she just wanted to sit somewhere for awhile, somewhere not in the open. She wanted to draw her legs close to her chest and rest her head on the top of her knees, shut her eyes and doze.

She wanted to die like that, sleeping and peaceful. One day, an artist would paint a portrait of her. It would be called, Sleeping Girl Dies in Wait. It would be fucking beautiful. Every detail would be exaggerated, especially her eyelashes and the amount of blood coating her left cheek.

She walked up to the door and pushed it open, peered inside. A boy that she didn't recognize appeared to be fixing some injuries, using a first-aid kit or several. He didn't look too menacing, and Fiona rationalized that she looked much more frightening than he did. He should be scared of her. Rawr.

"Hi there, room for two in here? Gee, it smells terrible. You okay?"

She was striking up casual conversation, acting as if this wasn't one of the more notorious killers on the island, but she didn't really know. And if she did, she wasn't entirely sure she would mind. There were no evil people or good people, just varying shades of grey. Naoko was just a particularly dark shade of grey. Fiona happened to like the color grey.

((Josée Trembley continued from Lonley, Side by Side.))

It was utterly useless. All she wanted to do was get her and a few of her closest friends (And her brother) back home in one piece. But every time she turned her back, something went wrong, some sick twist of fate decapitated any hope of Josée actually doing something right with her life. It seemed strange for her to think that an island that was supposed to turn high school students into murderous killers would actually bring out the best in Josée, but when she watched as Cisco wandered into the belly of rescue, smiling with joy and relief, Josée thought, for about half an hour at least, that she had done something right.

But now she was alone; everyone she had known and met on the island was dead; Remy, OC, Cisco... Kaitlyn? Josée had only known her for a few minutes before she bled to death... Because of Cisco...

But that was a complete accident, Cisco didn't have any idea what he was doing, it was all the grim reaper... As in, that boy who Cisco thought was the grim reaper... He was the one who did this. It then occured to Josée that any of the people who cruelly murdered her friends could still be alive; she had had no luck finding that girl who killed her brother. Perhaps she was just useless.

The derelict, stone building loomed over Josée. It seemed as good a place as any to rest. Cautiously, Josée slowly pushed the door open. She didn't know if she wanted there to be someone inside or not but, either way, she was about to find out. "Hello?" she called softly, listening to her echoing voice glide back at her. "Hello?" She said again.

Raidon looked up.

Two days ago--before he'd taken Mizore Soryu to the beach--his first instinct would have been to go for his weapon. Now, however, two things tempered that urge--one, his gun had only the one bullet left in it, and two, he didn't really care. The girl who had just come through the door looked harmless. Fiona, he thought her name was--punk rocker type, he remembered the hair. Nothing else about the girl really came to mind.

He'd just finished disinfected and bandaging a particularly nasty scrape on his right elbow. He set down the bandaging and offered the girl a polite nod. "The smell would be the bodies," he said, jerking his head in the direction of one of the white sheets. "Not my doing, but I have neither the energy nor the inclination to do anything about them." He gestured towards a chair that had fallen across the room. "Do excuse me for not getting a chair for you, but..." He gestured to the various bruises and bloody bits of his body and offered a wan smile. "I'm really in no position to help."

"Hello?" came the soft call. Both he and Fiona froze for a minute, and then again, "Hello?"

He glanced towards Fiona. "Friend of yours?" he asked quietly.

When Raidon explained that the smell was the decaying corpses, (of course it was, what else could it be?) Fiona merely nodded stiffly, a response that seemed more appropriate for a conversation about sports or maybe the weather. "I guess there isn't much we can do. Best to just leave them there." The idea of moving them or burying them definitely didn't sit well with Fiona. It also reminded her of Warren's burial. She couldn't help but wonder what had become of Maria. She was dead, right? Fiona wasn't sure. Everything seemed to pass by in such a blur. Names of people and places.. She wasn't sure about anyone anymore. Not that she cared. Maria was just another person that she would have lost eventually anyway.

Raidon motioned towards a chair, and she noticed that he was unusually polite given the situation. She took his action to mean that he didn't mind her company, and she slowly entered the infirmary and sat down in the chair. She felt slightly awkward, but she didn't feel endangered in any way.

The poor guy was injured. What harm could he possibly do? Fiona placed her things on the ground but laid her axe upon the table, almost as a warning of sorts. Not that her axe would d much against Raidon's gun, but it was there nonetheless. Plus she felt safe seeing it within her line of vision.

"Geez dude, you sure you alright? I have another first-aid kit if you need anything.. Maybe two." She trailed off and blinked slowly, lowering her head down and resting it on the table. This was all she wanted. Rest.

"Friend of yours?"

She heard the voice too, but she didn't recognize it. "No," she responded bitterly, not raising her head. "I don't have any friends left."

Silence responded as Josée cautiously entered the building, breathing heavily. She didn't hear anyone respond, but that didn't necessarily mean that no-one was nearby, waiting to ambush her, she slowly walked to a particularly dark corner of the room, checking that no-one was hiding in it. Her hand started to tremble. She could no longer muster up the courage to ask if anyone was nearby, slowly, she leaned against the corner of the room, facing the dark, empty abyss before her and breathed in slowly. She was tired and desperately needed to rest, but was too afraid to close her eyes through fear of being ambushed. So instead, she simply breathed in and out quietly, leaning against the corner of the wall, and staring into the darkness.

Raidon glanced back to the girl, offered another wan smile. "Nor do I," he said softly. "And I didn't have that many to start out with." He had his gun set on the table by his first aid kit, and his last flashbang set on the other side. If it came down to a fight, he was as ready as he could be.

Still. No need to be careless. He knew better than to seek out trouble, but that didn't mean he was going to sit there and wait for some unknown party to start a fight with him. Better to establish, right now, what would happen if this turned to violence.

"Excuse me!" he called, raising his voice a little and keeping his eyes on Fiona. "This is Naoko Raidon. I have seven kills to my name, and while I do not have a quarrel with you I will not hesitate to add an eighth to my tally if you have any ideas about taking me down." His hand was within an inch of his gun, although with two parties in the building that made things complicated. "If you are going to do something stupid, I suggest you leave. Otherwise, you're welcome to come in."

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. And it had been him who'd wondered why Charles Dawson would want to die.

Long past time I found my own purpose. And if that meant he found a new, stupid way of doing things, so be it.

When the male student mentioned that he didn't have many friends to start with, Fiona merely mumbled to herself in response. That was the complete opposite of her, or so she thought. She had quite a few friends back in high school. She had her cheerleading friends and the friends that she gained in years of chorus. And then there were the friends that she would frequent rock concerts with, some older than her and some younger. Some people that were still out there, somewhere off this rock. It sort of filled her with a fuzzy feeling inside to know that not everyone she knew was dead. Her family was still out there. People who cared and loved her were still out there. The universe was not contained to this single island.

Right. Just keep thinking that, Fiona. It makes things just a little easier.

Remember that warm and fuzzy feeling? Yeah, it sort of turned to sub-zero ice the second that Raidon introduced himself. Fiona had thought that he was just some student. Sure, she had seen him around once or twice during school, but she didn't know him, thus the person she had heard about in the announcements never clicked in Fiona's head. She imagined the Raidon she heard about to be ruthless and psychotic, but the boy before her didn't seem so. Then again, Fiona had only been in this room for about three minutes, maybe more or less.

Even though she had barely paid attention to most of the announcements, tiny flashes of memories entered her brain, little snippets here and there that mentioned Raidon's name. He's killed seven times. Maybe this place wasn't an appropriate place to rest. Maybe she should leave. He said it himself: he didn't mind adding an eighth tally to his list.

Fiona slowly raised her head and stared at Raidon as if he was a member from the band Metallica. There was shock and surprise in her face, but there was also something else, a bit like interest and curiosity. Still, the sane part of herself was saying to leave now. Get the hell out of here.

"Y-You're, uh, You... uh.. killed seven?" she managed to squeak out.

Fiona wasn't sure why she was being so hypocritical. She herself had killed two, and it was fairly obvious that she had been in her fair share of scuffles. There was plenty of blood on her axe.

"Gee, I dunno, Raidon? You said your name was Raidon, right? I don't think, uh, that hiding person is going to feel, um, welcome? Not that you aren't welcoming! I mean, you were polite to me, thanks for that, but, uh..." Was Fiona doing something stupid? She was babbling, probably offending this guy quite a few times. "Look, please don't hurt me, dude. If you try, I won't even make it satisfying. I won't make a peep. Or cry. Or scream. I'll make this face." Fiona made a really blank face with her lips pulled down into a disturbing-looking frown. It was a face that could melt paint off of walls.

"See? I'm not dangerous- OH! You know what, I'll just, uh, put this away..." She slowly pulled the bloody axe off the table and held it in her lap. She was clearly nervous, but she'd never admit it.

"This is Naoko Raidon. I have seven kills to my name, and while I do not have a quarrel with you I will not hesitate to add an eighth to my tally if you have any ideas about taking me down."

The voice shot to her through the darkness. Looks like she wasn't alone after all; but looking into the darkness, she couldn't see a thing, she wished she had her torch with her. She swallowed hard when she realised that the boy had said he had killed seven people; could he be one of the people who killed Remy? Or the one who tortured Cisco before she saved him? What did he say his name was... Naoko?

Naoko...

Josée breathed a small sigh of relief as she remembered that it was a girl who killed Remy and a boy called Joe who forced Cisco to do his bidding. Perhaps it would be alright to approach this person, Josée didn't want to keep in waiting in case he started to think that she was planning something, so she spoke up. "Hello! Is someone there! I can hear you, but I can't see you, it's too dark. I'm Josée Trembley, I've never killed anyone, though I nearly did once to save myself. I'm almost completely defenceless. Please could you shine a light or something so I know where you are. I lost my torch days ago."

Raidon couldn't help it; he laughed.

Doing that a lot lately.

He couldn't help it. There was something so absurd about the girl carrying the bloodstained ax telling him she'd be no fun to kill, as nervous as could be, her words streaming out. It was a short laugh, but it helped break the tension somewhat; he'd been afraid the girl would go for him, and wondering how he'd deal with the other person in the Infirmary with them once he'd lost that last bullet.

"I'm not trying to be welcoming," he said, smiling. "Nor am I trying to be discouraging. I'm simply letting them know the cost, should they be hostile." He inclined his head. "Since you didn't burst in here swinging, I sort of assume you to be calm." He knew her name, now--Fiona, she'd killed before, but...

Well, so had he. And far more than she, as he recalled.

The voice from the wall, after a moment of long quiet, quickly related a long story. Raidon nodded and fished around in his bag, until he found a flashlight. As he shone it towards the wall, however, there was a long squeal of static.

"Greynolds here, again." Raidon couldn't help but take a little pleasure in the sound of the exhaustion in the man's voice. Someone, somewhere, had struck a real blow against these sons of bitches. His neck cricked a little when he heard Lombardi's name, and wondered if it had been Leidman who'd inflicted all the damage upon Lombardi before their fight. It made sense, he reasoned--if Lombardi had had to attack him physically, as Greynolds was implying he had, then he might have taken considerable damage along the way.

Again Lombardi's name, but this time it was to confirm that Raidon had killed him. Raidon offered a cold smile to Fiona. "I understand if that makes our relationship a little more strained," he said, surprised at how light-hearted he sounded. "But as you can see, I didn't exactly put a bullet through his skull." He gestured down over his body. "You'd be surprised how difficult it is to-" He broke off as heard what Greynolds had to say.

"...Julian Avery, who died shortly thereafter, from wounds sustained in his earlier tangle with Maxwell Lombardi..."

For a moment he was completely unaware of Fiona Sparki or the approached Josee; for a moment he was entirely aware only of his memories. Julian Avery and he had spent only a day together; the boy had witnessed his first foolish murder (God Scott can you forgive me for my stupidity my weakness and my fear) and then quickly parted ways. But they'd brought Lombardi down together once.

And it appeared they'd done it again a second time. Albeit unknowingly.

The flashlight sank from numb fingers. He collapsed heavily back into his seat. "Oh," he said, weakly. "I...oh."

They'd threatened to kill each other, more than once. They'd each been at the other's mercy, more than once. They had lived a violent relationship, and they had parted in anger.

And now Julian Avery, the last friend he'd had on the island, was dead.

(Charlie DuClare continued from Lies Lies Lies)

Playing hide and seek with a miracle.

Where is it? Behind that tree, over that hill, probably maybe- nope! Good guess, though. Good guess and keep searching, checking anywhere for evidence of anything. Anything. It would be alright if she turned over a rock and learned that it'd all been a lie and they were always going to be trapped on this island. Cause that'd mean she was learning things. And that's how we grow.

And she was starting to feel small.

Not sad, not afraid. Still gliding along, chirpy, bossy, with a shout back to Aaron or to Aileen every so often that they needed to keep moving, they needed to get to the bottom of this. Not sad. But small, slight, more air in her than anything else. Light-footed, hollow-boned, aching for a sight that could puff her up and make her normal again.

Fool's errand, huh? Well, so was happy. And how she had happy, even if it was this weird off-kilter kind of thing that was hollowing out her bones and making her raise her voice. So normal couldn't be that far off. All she had to do was get to the bottom of this. Slap on a deerstalker, take out a magnifying glass, and what's this over here in the mud? A footprint! No, no, more than a footprint.

A clue!

It was entirely possible that she was being too silly about this.

It was entirely possible that she ought to actually stop and think for a second. And reason out that the first thing to do was try and find other people. Maybe they knew something. Maybe there was a resistance going on already and they just needed to find the right people to enlist.

Haha, enlist? In the resistance? Now there's silly and there's just silly. Charlie with a gun in her hand and war paint on her face, shouting about how they'll never take her freedom. Frame that picture and laugh.

But before you do, check out that building not so far away and tell Aaron and Aileen to shut up even though they haven't said anything for a while. Cause you're listening. And there's a sound, sound of a voice or maybe two or maybe three four five, there's someone in there and it's gonna be fantastic.

So she opened a door and poked her head in. Waved hello and asked,

"Hey guys, sorry- does anyone here know anything about the whole resc-"

((Aaron Hughes continued from Lies, lies, lies))

They were on an incredibly stupid wild goose chase, but Aaron didn't care. All they were doing now was killing time until the end was close enough for it to be time to kill other things. They'd looked around, all over. He was letting Charlie and Aileen lead. Easier that way. It kept them placated and allowed Aaron to rest. There was no need to justify things when he wasn't guiding them, and he was still clearly the leader overall. It was just delegation. He should have thought of this ages ago.

Live and learn. He'd just keep going, use every little trick he picked up, and make it to the end. He'd never really quite understood the abstraction of experience points and leveling up in roleplaying games, but now he thought he saw what they represented. The more you knew, the more you survived, the smarter and better and more dangerous you were.

Aaron was pretty smart. Always had been. He was dangerous, too. That came with having a group, a gun, and an uninjured body. He was quite possibly one of the best contenders remaining on the island. He liked it that way.

And now, in their crazy rovings, they were where Aaron had wanted to go in the first place. Charlie was in front, conveniently serving as a minesweeper, not being quiet or subtle and generally just making people aware of her presence. If she died in a hail of bullets, that would be the cue for Aaron and Aileen to dive for cover. It wouldn't really be a good use of resources, but that didn't matter. It was better to be wasteful than dead.

And then, of course, there were the new announcements. The only thing that mattered was that Lombardi had been brought down, by another big-ticket killer, at that. Aaron knew of Raidon. The boy was another chess player. He was a strange one, always a little off somehow. Maybe that was just hindsight correcting for the fact that he'd killed a bunch of people. Didn't matter. Aaron would be watching for him.

He was not expecting to find him so quickly.

As they moved into the infirmary, Charlie still in the lead, Aaron tried to think of the sort of place where dangerous chemicals would be stored. No luck. Someone was talking somewhere, distracting him. He should be paying attention to the voices, though. They were of more immediate importance. He snapped back to full alertness just a second after Charlie opened the door to the room.

In that instant the world was frozen. Aaron saw him. Raidon. He also saw the girl, some girl he didn't know. They were talking. That made her Raidon's presumed ally. An accessory to murder, then. Also dangerous. Charlie was in the doorway, saying something stupid. Aileen was behind him a bit. The angles were atrocious. He wasn't in a good position. It didn't matter.

One thing Aaron knew was that you didn't talk to a mass murderer, didn't try to reason with an intelligent sociopath. You saw them, and you went for your gun, and you started to fill the room with as much lead as possible.

So that was exactly what he did, fumbling his gun from his pocket and firing half a dozen shots into the room, in their rough direction, not aiming, not even trying to hit, just keeping them off balance for a moment while he thought up a better plan.

Raidon said something about assuming Fiona to be calm, and she rapidly nodded her head in quick succession, much like an eager dog. "O-Oh-Oh, yeah, definitely. I can be calm- very, very calm." She gulped and stared at Raidon as if he had a few heads, but she was slowly relaxing a bit. Her frantic babble clearly hadn't offended him, and he didn't seem eager to try and off her, so... Everything was okay. Everything would be just fine. Fiona was sure of it.

A third voice made itself known, and it frightened the blonde for just a moment, before she realized that there had always been a third person in the building, but she had yet to show herself. Apparently she just couldn't find them, and she needed a light, but she wasn't hostile. Her name was Josée Trembly, and the introduction reminded her that she hadn't quite introduced herself.

Raidon clicked on his flashlight and aimed it at the wall, and Fiona realized he wasn't so bad. She looked over at him and flashed a nervous smile. "I'm, uh, Fiona. There was only one Fiona in the senior class, I think. Oh, but there was probably only one Raidon.. Eh, probably only one Josée too.. Okay, never mind." She shut her mouth but retained the same slightly nervous smile.

And then there were the announcements. Fiona jumped a little when she heard them, and she realized that this was the first time in awhile that she was actually paying attention to them. Usually the announcements were just a mere backdrop in the scene of Fiona's life, something playing in the background but nothing she was paying too much attention to. Now she was paying attention but only because she didn't have anything better to do. Plus, Raidon was focusing hard, as if this was his favorite radio station or something. Fiona felt like she should probably listen as well, but there was something in her brain that kept her from fully paying attention.

She snapped back to reality when Raidon spoke to her again. Apparently the announcement mentioned someone else that he had killed, but Fiona just waved her hand and offered a spacey grin. "Huh? Oh, no. No strain at all, it's cool, it's cool.. Do what you gotta do, ya know? Gee, Maxwell sure killed a lot of people, right...? I mean, someone had to bring that monster down." She nervously laughed, a bit of madness edging her words.

Fiona jumped again as the flashlight flickered, light darting across the wall and narrowing to a point just near the floor. The plastic tool had fallen with a clatter, and Fiona looked from the flashlight to Raidon, realizing that he had dropped it in shock. Had he heard something bad? Obviously. Now Fiona felt awkward. She wasn't sure what to do, what to say.

So she did what people always did in bad situations. She leaned over and patted his shoulder. "It's, uh, okay. It'll all be alright." Fiona felt like slapping herself over that, but she would also rather pat someone's shoulder than do nothing at all. Fuck, what if she angered Raidon? She stood up, ready to sprint out the door and away from the infirmary, but she realized something.

There was someone else in the doorway, and in a sickeningly slow flow of seconds, Fiona realized it wasn't Josée. No, her voice had come from the other side of the building. These were people she didn't know, or rather, a girl.. It wasn't coming together quite yet. It all happened quickly, three people entered the room and took in the sights, but the two girl's presence lost out to the male's. He didn't take a breath, didn't think, merely raised his gun and littered the room with a flurry of bullets. Fiona remembered stepping back and raising an arm. Something hit that very arm, another hit her just below the rib cage, and a final scraped the side of her face, carving a tiny path that oozed with blood.

It burned and hurt terribly, and as her vision faded, Fiona realized that there wasn't actually a light at the end of the tunnel. It was just, well, her vision tunneling because she was most likely losing blood at a fast rate. She wanted to have final, frantic thoughts about afterlife and her presumed state of dying, but it was happening too quickly to compute. She was aware that she couldn't move her arm, and she was slowly sinking to the floor. Fuck, there was a lot of blood. Plenty of it, really. She didn't really pay attention to anyone in the room, merely herself. She figured no one else really mattered, and if anyone else was shot and dying? Good luck. See you in the afterlife.

Fiona pulled off her jacket and held it against her bleeding abdonmen, hoping to staunch some of the blood, but she knew she was a goner. She didn't have much time left. She knew that she was probably only shot at because she was sitting with a known mass killer. Gee, great idea, Fiona. All she wanted was a measley little rest. She'd thought nothing of catching some z's beside him, not realizing that people might consider her an accomplice, although she was nothing of the sort. She was just a trusting and non-judgmental person.

Fiona took a few ragged breaths, realizing that her saliva tasted like blood. Kay, so she surely didn't have much time left now. This was it. The final hurrah. She was finally free from this fucking game. Long gone were the days with Nik and Evelyn and Autumn and Stefan. That was so long ago... It was a wonder that Fiona had survived this long at all. Now seemed like a good way to go. She pushed her jacket away from her lap and leaned back, her body edging against a wall. Delicate lashes fluttered closed, and the only sound audible to her was the sound of her own ragged breath. Any moment now.

And she was gone.





Or so she thought. She thought that her death would be a quick one. She'd shut her eyes and the eternal sleep would come. For some reason, she felt energized. She felt good, as if she'd never been shot at all. Fiona opened her eyes and looked around the room, slick and clean. White. Raidon and the kid who shot her were there, as well as a few others, but it seemed strange. They were staring at her, but they were paused, as if someone had froze the scene of a movie and stuck it here before her eyes. She stood up and checked her persons, but her wounds didn't look bad. She could make it. The bleeding had stopped.

"It's okay," she said, but her voice sounded far-away. No one looked relieved.

A warm golden light enveloped the room, filling the dark corners with a shimmering light. Fiona looked around to gaze upon the beauty, and her eyes met her axe. The blood that was splattered upon the blade was gone, replaced by some yellow-golden substance that looked almost like honey. It seemed sacred almost, not as macabre as blood. The axe beckoned for her to pick it up, so she did. It felt like it belonged in her hands.

But everything went dark. The scene unpaused itself, and the faces staring before her weren't faces of friendship or comradeship. They were scary. Twisted, almost. They didn't do anything, they just stared. The boy who shot her was still holding his gun.

"You have a chance to right this, Fiona. You can keep going."

At first, Fiona thought it was Raidon speaking to her, but the voice wasn't right. The voice... was coming from somewhere below her, but axes didn't talk. They didn't possess voices. Only crazy people spoke to inanimate objects, and Fiona wasn't crazy. She knew that. She just survived two bullet wounds! She was perfectly fine, but... You couldn't just ignore a talking axe. It could mean something. Something deeper.

She screamed and hopped on the table where Fiona and Raidon had previously been sitting. She raised the axe above her head and hopped off the table, making several frantic slashes in Aaron's direction. A seering pain tore through her abdonmen, something wet dribbled down her stomach, down her pants, down her legs, to her toes, to the floor. Her vision was faltering. Her teeth were gritting against each other. The look on her face was pure mania, her eyes were blurred.

She dropped the axe and slumped to the floor, blood pooling underneath her corpse.


Fiona was edged against the wall, delicate eyelashes fluttered closed. She could hear her ragged breath. Any moment now. Any moment.

"You have a chance to right this, Fiona. You can keep going."

One last wink at the nearest possible camera, and Fiona was lights out. Her story had ended, but not prematurely. And maybe she hadn't really gone on a crazy axe rampage, and maybe she hadn't tried to attack Aaron, and maybe her axe hadn't spoken to her, but it was the thought that counts. Sometimes the quiet deaths are the most interesting ones. Fiona died quietly.


FEMALE STUDENT NO. 80 - ELIMINATED

((Aileen Borden continued from Lies lies lies))

As far as one could tell, Aileen was exhausted.

What could one say? She wasn't athletic. She was far from athletic. And all these chaos over the past week had been more exercise that she normally handled.

But she had to keep going, she must. DuClare was way ahead of her and Aaron. Yes, Aileen could do this. Just go into that building with those two. Simple as that. Just head in there, hide out, maybe see if DuClare and/or Aaron had anything planned. At this rate, DuClare seemed like a better person to trust. More rational and less secretive, which was a bonus over Aaron. But none the less, she had to stick around. She had to defend them, and besides, they would probably done all sorts of things that would have been bad if she wasn't there. As noted, Aaron was far from rational from time to time, and it cost them a lot of things in the long run. Missing out on the escape was only just one episode in a long line of them, looking back. Like when he thought it was a good idea to shoot at Rob. Or when he thought that they could get collars off by electrocuting them (to be fair, it wasn't just him, but looking back...). Or running ahead of the group all the time. Maybe he was finally starting to figure out that some of his actions were ridiculous, and that was why he seemed quiet and submissive lately, like he was expect her or DuClare to lead.

But most importantly of all... most importantly of all... she didn't want anymore death. Yes, she kept saying it, but it still happened. Had to make sure her team was safe, and wasn't doing anything irrational. Irrationality was what got most of the group killed. It made her kill Milo. It made Lily and Richard be separated from the group and be killed. It probably played a part in Tom's death. And what if those people from the gazebo genuinely wanted to come along? Even if Other Lily was psycho, or if Rocko just came off as acting like a player... what if they could have genuinely helped?

In any case, it was her job to protect them and make sure they didn't do anything stupid. They had already made enough stupid mistakes here.

So how about we follow them into the building? Sure. Why not? Okay, now to just wander in. Wait, there were voices. Whose were they?

As DuClare opened the door, Aileen could see at least two people in there. One appeared to be a male. That was someone from the chess club, right? He looked familiar... except it took her several seconds to realize who he was. Aileen wasn't good with names. This was a fact everyone knew by now. But she was able to figure out his name much quicker than usual. That was... oh fuck. Raidon Naoko. Not good. Yes, he was from the chess club, that she could remember. And from what else she could remember, he was a player. To say that wasn't a good situation was an understatement. There was a girl with him, but she didn't know who. And judging by the small snippets of dialogue in there, there may or may not have been a third.

DuClare, however, didn't realize the danger. It made itself clear when she started to ask about the boats.

Aaron, however, cut her off. Apparently he didn't learn his lesson from the incident with Rob. Apparently he didn't understand why it was a bad move even now. But he did it. It seemed he was doomed to repeat history.

A loud crack of gunfire burst in front of her. Aileen threw herself to the ground, initially thinking that she was being fired upon. But as the sounds continued, she quickly figured out that Aaron was doing it all over again. Damn it, he didn't learn. You just don't fire on killers like that. They're already potentially psychotic, and if they lived they could, you know, have reason to hate you on top of it? And what if he killed someone? What would happen then?

Aileen covered her ears as best as she could as the sound continued, and then it stopped. Alright, either Aaron killed someone, even if he was worried he was going to kill them, or they now had a pissed off murderer on their hands.

Her heart raced, while her ears rang from the noise. She couldn't possibly look up. Looking up meant knowing what was the outcome of the shooting. Either way, it wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

But slowly, she lifted her head, and from where she was lying, from behind Aaron and DuClare's legs, she could see a shape. It took a few seconds before she realized what it was, and when she did her eyes widened behind her frames, and slowly she pulled herself to her knees to confirm it, shaking as she did.

Aaron had hurt someone. That girl, who now tried in vain to cover a wound with her jacket. Within seconds, she was clearly gone.

Aileen couldn't think of what to say. They had now killed someone who was clearly connected to a known multiple time killer. Aaron had killed someone.

This... this wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be out of here. They could have gotten on those boats. That girl, for all they knew, could have gotten on a boat. And what did they do? Just... just fire on her.

Aileen let out a small sound. She wasn't sure if she was chuckling a bit at the irony or on the urge of sobbing a bit over it. It all was so horrible. Heck, maybe they had the potential to be just as horrible. Maybe they were more like the players than they thought.

Oh Aileen, which side are you on? Which fucking side are you on? Maybe they should just let Raidon shoot them all or something out of self defense! It would be so horribly ironic, being shot by some killer because their leader ran around shooting people and said killer was upset that he killed his girlfriend or whoever that girl was!

The girl, presumably, had been about to say the world rescue. Raidon promptly forgot this information as her partner stepped through the door.

He'd come here recover from his injuries. Patch himself up. Get away from the sins he'd committed, the stupidity to which he'd been subject; get out of this awful shadow and do something god damn right with his life. No matter if he could justify what he'd done or not; he'd done some of it fucking stupid (his finger attested to do that) and it was past time he stopped acting like a whimpering sonofabitch about it. Time to do what he felt was right, whatever that was. But first, get himself in shape; no point in all this misery if he died.

Died.

Died.

He was already throwing himself down as Aaron Hughes (and he remembered Aaron Hughes--the other boy in the Chess Club, decent player as he recalled) opened fire. Whatever else the past few days had cost him, they had given him this; he'd been honed in five intense fights, three of which had nearly killed him. He'd become quick, he knew danger, and he didn't sit waiting for the worst to happen. As he hit the ground, he reached out and grabbed the table leg, flipped it over.

He heard a dull thump behind him, turned his head slightly, saw Fiona's wide eyes and the blood trickling from the corner of her lip. He paused, considered bringing her to safety, then No time for that she's not my concern he turned back to the table. His bag was on the other side of the table but that was fine; he had the gun and the flashbang in his hand (when the hell did I)

This time there wasn't time to process. Hughes name might not have been on the list but he was obviously gunning for Raidon--aiming to take the top killer down. Fear? Or just logic? Wouldn't Raidon have done the same, in his shoes?

He only had one bullet in his gun, and there were three people unaccounted for.

He armed the flashbang, threw with all the strength he had, and burst from cover--to the side, not right at Hughes. He saw, in slow motion, Hughes' gun turn towards him; then it paused as Hughes' eyes turned to the metal thing clinking down five feet from him. Then a corner of wall intruded, cutting them off from each other's sight (and from the line of each other's guns).

The flash was diluted by the wall; the bang wasn't. It staggered Raidon, left him reeling and the world spinning. He stumbled, struggled to stay on his feet, looked at the ground and saw a table leg, broken off from the shattered remains of its former owner. He grabbed at it with his strong right arm, transferring the gun to his left (don't need much strength to fire a gun, don't need much strength to fire a gun, but god he felt weaker for it) and turned back.

Around the corner, and there was Hughes, one hand still over his eyes, staggering with his mouth open, the gun out. Raidon stepped closer, smashed out with his right arm, caught the boy's wrist and sent the gun flying. He started to lift his gun; Hughes threw himself forwards, knocked into him, sent him tumbling into a wall. A vague shape was coming towards him out of the corner of his left eye; Raidon lifted his gun.