Survival Of The Fittest

((Nick Reid continued from Peacemaker))

Huddled uncomfortably in the shadow of a pile of logs, concealed from casual observers by their hulking mass, Nick surveyed his map and compass. They weren't infallible - far from it, really, but at least it gave him an idea of where he might want to go. Or, at least, it let him scout out his potential ideas. It wouldn't suggest them to him, which is why he was lost in indecision.

Much earlier - had it really been almost an entire day? - he'd realized how truly charmed his existence was. He'd met the baddest killer on the island, alone and unarmed, and walked out alive. In fact, he'd not only survived, he'd give him a verbal knee in the groin and commended his girlfriend (or whatever she was) for letting him get away with it all. Check and mate, Kuznetsov.

All the same, his exit had been somewhat less than cool and controlled. He'd barely had time to scoop up his bag and recover the hidden weapon that he now wore thrust through his belt loop. Running with a four-foot-long weapon in his hands was frustratingly yet not unexpectedly draining. There was really no good way to keep it. Thrust into his belt loop, his jeans sagged to one side and if the point wasn't busy catching on the ground, it could well just bury itself into his Achilles. Laying it over his should like a bindle was what he went with, though it scraped foliage and wore down his shoulder and arm. From there, he'd headed North - just simply North, which held the great attraction of being totally bereft of Ivans.

Leaving the secluded forest was a step down in terms of general safety for his unguarded rest, but his location was decent and the wooded areas didn't scream safety after all of his experiences. For a long while, he lay watching the precious hours of his life tick away - or rather, jump and jerk and stutter, slowing to a crawl one moment and speeding by the next. It was exhausting business, this survival, and Nick took to laying about like a fish to water. He'd done it back at home, back in his old life, sometimes. Much more often than he liked, often enough that his parents would give up after a half-dozen failed calls to consciousness and return hours later when the sun had moved more than anything else. Those days when he just couldn't be bothered to get dressed, turn on the light, set a single limb out of bed. The time went by then as it did now, paying no heed to consistency, a painfully slow dragging march along entropy's arrow interrupted by randomly spaced hours of blissful unconsciousness, where for just a little while he didn't have to think about psychiatrists and their insufferable expectant pauses, didn't have to think about missing lectures or failing to finish that essay he had "left in the printer," didn't have to think about anything at all.

Not that that was any concern to him now. His long repose was not, in fact, just a depressive slump, because there would be no more depressive slumps for him. He'd reached epiphany, the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel in this the darkest, bleakest of all games. Though his body was sore and bruised (hence the long rest), when he thought about it, he was really the best off out of anyone: Not only did he have a brutal equalizer for anyone else who dared to mock him, he was the island's Brain Trust. In fact, he'd formally created the Brain Trust during his down time, with himself as president, secretary, and first officer. The first meeting had been called for a celebratory nap, and he was just getting everyone back together now.

Back to the basics. How was he? "Sore and tired" came the immediate thought, but how was he besides that? He had three people who would most likely kill on sight. Alex, he knew nothing of. Ivan had a shotgun. And Maxwell had some sort of gun according to that morning's announcement. Speaking of which...

"MUCH more entertaining was our next kill, with Nick Reid doing the honours by smashing Tom Guthrie's face into a fine paste using a rock wall, so for those of you keeping count, that's two for Mr. Reid."

He was outed for good, probably. The first one was really an accident - voluntary manslaughter, maybe involuntary manslaughter in the useless courts of the world he'd left behind him. But the second one - well, there were some things that just didn't happen on accident. He could try the "vulnerable and downtrodden" act again, but it couldn't be his main strategy any more - a decent plan B, maybe, provided he had a plan C.

When it came down to it, there were only two things that would get him off the island: escape and victory. Neither was remotely likely. As far as escape was concerned, he had nothing yet, but he knew that an escape would not be built piece by piece but come together in a flash of inspiration, the ultimate manifestation of his ability to worm out of things he absolutely refused to stand for. Survival, on the other hand, was more given to careful consideration than sudden epiphany.

So, what did he have? Well, a large sword, martial prowess with said sword, blood on his hands (and on his face and on his clothing...), three molotovs (the lethality of which was backed by Danya himself), and a face that a mother would kind of quietly slip away from. He was, in short, horrible company. That was good. He could pick his battles. Approach on his own terms, go after who he needed to. And who should he go after? His track record with the unenlightened wasn't the greatest, and the deadly were only becoming deadlier. He'd nip it in the bud. Gather intel, wait for Maxwell and Ivan to expend their ammo and then make them beg for death before the end. And for direction? Southeast was out, and the only real alternative lay Northwest. Once he cleared the cliff side, he'd make the choice, East or West. For now, though, he just needed to move.

He walked among the stumps and broken husks of felled giants, checking the compass as his only real guide in the repetitive sea of dead trees. The sun was bright but not too hot, though, and the terrain, while uneven and loose in some places was perfectly fine to walk on. Taking a breather sitting on a convenient stump, he thought that it all would have been almost pleasant if he wasn't so hideously exposed.

((Fiona Sparki continued from Walkabout))

Fiona Sparki and Nik Kronwall had been walking in complete silence for several hours now. There wasn't much to say, and Fiona, still feeling like an annoying pest, didn't want to.. well.. annoy Nik. As the two left the docks and headed back in the direction of the town center, Fiona kept her eyes peeled for anyone that seemed notable. She wasn't entirely what constituted as notable.. Someone from cheerleading or someone who was hell-bent on murdering everyone, but she wanted to run into someone. Anyone. She wanted to ask if anyone had seen Evelyn or her fellow cheerleaders or even Nik's brother.

But, as it presently stood, the two came into direct contact with no one - just the air itself. Fiona caught glimpses of her classmates in the distance, but she couldn't bring herself to raise her voice above a whisper and call out to anyone. It could bring unwanted attention or, surprise!, death. Fiona wanted to avoid being dead as long as she could. She quite liked being alive and breathing and eating.

The pair skirted around the town center (neither wanting to re-enter the square where Warren had been killed and buried) and headed in the direction of what the map warranted as the "felled forest south." Fiona honestly wasn't sure what this meant until she finally arrived there.

Ah. The name definitely suited the place... It wasn't much of a forest at all; it was mostly a health-hazard with fallen logs and great visibility everywhere. And by great visibility, Fiona realized that a gun-toting killer would be able to see the two of them just standing here amongst the fallen trees and piles of logs. The obtuse cheerleader looked down at her axe and back up at the land around her. She could deal. She would have to.

Speakers crackled to life, causing Fiona to draw an inward breath and gasp. It shocked her every time, hearing something other than utter silence speckled with the occasional gunshot. She slowly looked over at Nik and paused as the list of names were called off.

...

Fiona's face fell noticeably. She made a noise that sounded like a mix between a sob and a choking sound. It was unreal. It was horrible and and and and monstrous! It just couldn't be real. All these people dying in such morbid ways, all by the hands of the people she'd been attending school with for YEARS! She felt betrayed. She felt as if everyone she had been in classes with (some since kindergarten!) had all been wearing masks. And this game, Survival of the Fittest or whatever the hell it was called, was designed to take these masks off and replace them with bomb-collars and weapons... Sickening. Saddening. Sobering.

Fiona looked down at the dirt and shook her head violently, causing her blonde and green dreads to whip around like snakes. "This is fucking bullshit. I just.." She shook her head again and went silent. There were no words to describe this. Just an emotion akin to rage, sadness, mourning, and confusing... Maybe even eagerness. An eager urge to survive and ensure that everyone you ever loved and cared about survives too.

Fiona's ears prickled and she immediately looked up. There was another student walking amongst the fallen piles of trees and logs. He occasionally checked his compass, but he honestly didn't seem threatening or anything. To be honest, Fiona didn't really recognize him, but... He was so close to them. How could she not say something? She watched as the boy sat down in a stump nearby and before he could notice them and spring to action, she summoned a cheery smile and called out, "Yo, man!"

She waved at him and lowered her axe. Choosing a log that was a reasonable distance from Nick's, Fiona sat down to share a breather, her eyes not moving from the other boy. She knew that she should probably be suspicious of this boy (he could be a killer. She had no idea who he was in all actuality), but he seemed alright, she supposed. "I'm Fiona. Fiona Sparki. You haven't seen a gal named Evelyn around, have you?" she asked in a slightly loud voice, her smile not evaporating from her face.

Even in such a place ripe with bloodshed and death, Fiona still couldn't wipe the smile from her face when she spoke with other people. It was just her custom: smile and be friendly.

((Nik Kronwall continued from Walkabout))

It had been a very quiet walk from the Docks to wherever they were now. Nik had noticed a few times that Fiona looked like she wanted to say something but instead she remained silent. Part of Nik did wish she would say something, yet a stronger part of him was fine with the silence. He was still shaken about what Staffan had done. Deep down, Nik knew that there was a chance Staffan had killed Brent out of self-defense but the way Danya had worded the kill on the announcements spoke otherwise.

When the speakers came on again, Nik's eyes darted to the nearest one, his body fluttering with nervousness. Would Staffan be on the announcements again? Maybe Evelyn? It turned out neither one of them were mentioned. For the first time in the last day, Nik felt a small sense of relief and relaxation come over his body. The relaxation feeling was broken by Fiona's swearing about the announcements. Nik just rolled his eyes and pressed on.

It wasn't long until both he and Fiona stopped. Another boy was walking amidst the forest surrounding them. The boy sat down on a stump, apparently oblivious to their presence. Nik was all but prepared to grab Fiona by the arm and make a break for it, when the girl decided to loudly announce their presence and take up a seat on a nearby stump of her own.

Nik slowly followed her over to the stump and stood right behind Fiona. As a pre-caution, Nik stuck his hand in his pack, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his gun.

"Hello." Nik said, nodding to the boy, wanting to hear if he'd seen Evelyn.

Nick's surprise quickly turned into fear, then kept going right into anger. What in the world did he think he was doing staring off into space like that? There was no doubt in his mind that he could take on Reiko or Kris or Maxwell or whoever decided to point a gun at him next, but he'd get nowhere if he kept forgetting the single most important part of survival - always always always keep your mind on your surroundings. He knew he'd have to face down a gunman sooner or later, and four feet of steel meant absolutely nothing if they picked him off before he even got close. Twenty-one feet, that's all he needed. Twenty-one feet.

Not that it all mattered now, because the pair was already well within the zone, and the fact that he wasn't dead now stood as good evidence against hidden gunmen. The girl's mannerisms - Yes, I know you're Fiona, and so do people a mile away now - would've violated his comfort zone in the best of times, but now he felt an urge to physically back away to lessen the force of her personality. A quick thought flashed through his mind (did that mean personalities followed the square-cube law?) before he answered.

"Ey."

Too bad Danya doesn't give out special prizes for being the worse conversationalist on the island.

He chewed his lip, considering his words and trying (without much success, he ventured) to size them up without being too blatant. There was definitely something about the boy. He could've sworn there was some connection with the announcements, but if there was, it eluded his mental grasp entirely. On a more tangible note, he did keep his hand in his bag, which probably meant he was either thirsty or armed. What most worried him though - or at least put him very squarely on the wrong foot - was the fact that Fiona had even gotten so close. Didn't she know who he was, what he'd done? Surely they'd heard the announcement. But if they just didn't know who he was...

"Uhh, Evelyn Reed?" Homophones could be so nice sometimes when you needed to seem to know someone. "Lemme think for a sec." Casting his face into mock thoughtfulness, he got slowly to his feet. Leaning on the sword was a gamble, but as long as they didn't see the molotovs or notice the specks of blood he felt so conscious of...

"No, I can't say that I have, sorry. Excuse me, it just kind of feels weird sitting with this thing on my waist like that." That would definitely qualify as a bad move. He wasn't fooling anyone "casually" leaning on something you could kill a freaking armored knight with. Sheer stupidity, that's what it was - he could draw it quickly now, but it was an astoundingly obvious and not altogether friendly move. He could smooth it over...

"Err, while we're at it, I'm looking for a few people as well. Alex white, Ivan, Jennifer Perez? There's been a bit of a, uh, separation, and I really don't know what area of the island they're even in."

He could've kicked himself for mentioning the BKA winner.

((Orpheus Campbell continued from Time Is Not On Our Side))

It was offical. Orpheus had the worst sense of direction in the history of huge cooking football players. They had slept for a bit, but he still hadn't managed to find Josée, or even shelter. Almost more damning, he hadn't been paying very much attention to the announcements beside making sure she was dead. So his classmates had all pretty much gone crazy? Fun.

God, he was so damn sick of trees. Endless trees, everywhere he went. Still, he could admit he was lucky. He was still alive, Josée was still alive, and no one had tried to kill him yet.

He felt like the Pied Piper now, playing his silly hot pink keytar. It was possibly the silliest thing he had done so far, but it kept him in a passble mood.

He looked up and noticed a group of three standing in front of him. It didn't look like they were having a bake sale either. Still, maybe someone had some information he needed.

"Hey, have anyone you seen a short girl named Josée? Kinda mean, probably got on your nerves in some way?"

((OOC: Sorry folks, but Nik is needed elsewhere. Also, the GMing of Fiona's actions were ok'd by Zombie))

Nik turned to face the newcomer, brushing off what she asked with a shrug. There was still something uncomfortable about the situation. Nik still hadn't got a really good look at who the boy was. His voice sounded familiar though. Nik's mind instantly flashed back to a classroom where the boy in front of him was answering a question. It was the teacher's response and the name she used that snapped Nik back to reality.

"Fiona, we're leaving, right now." Nik said in the most serious tone he could muster.

Nik pulled the gun of the bag and pointed it straight at the newly realized Nick Reid.

"Don't move a damn muscle." Nik growled.

The announcements from Danya once again rang through his head, only this time it wasn't regarding his brother. Nik remember hearing Nick mentioned as one of the killers on the island. He could end Nick right here. Get rid of the danger to everyone out here. No. It wasn't his place. Nick Reid would have to atone for what he'd done somewhere down the line. If Nik ultimately was the one who put the stop to him, so be it, but Nik Kronwall was not about to just join up with his brother on Danya's famous list of killers.

"You there," Nik said, addressing Orpheus, "I'd stay back if I were you. He's a killer."

Once Fiona had backed up, almost right into Nik, he whispered quietly into her ear, all the while keeping both eyes fixed right on the standing Nick Reid.

"Look. I know it will be hard, but we need to find somewhere to rest. Let's go back to town. One of those houses is probably our safest bet."

Nik took Fiona under her arm with his free hand and began walking backwards away from the scene, his Colt 45 still pointed at Nick. Once they were at what he determined as a safe distance, Nik turned, relinquishing his grip on Fiona's arm and taking her by the hand as he began to jog.

You could have stopped him Nik. You could have stopped him right then and there. If you couldn't stop a killer who was standing still, what good will you do against the others? What are you going to do when you see Staffan again?

"If I see him again..."

((Nik Kronwall continued elsewhere))

((Rizzo Vitoria continued from Time Is Not On Our Side

Rizzo dutifully followed OC as he led. He was generous with allowing him to rest and try to catch his breath, Rizzo was thankful for that. He still ached but at least he had stopped vomiting. He had been able to keep a few crackers in his stomach.

"Hey, have anyone you seen a short girl named Josée? Kinda mean, probably got on your nerves in some way?"

Rizzo looked up, noticing the group ahead. He stayed behind the bigger teen, practically hidden away due to his size.

"Fiona, we're leaving, right now. Don't move a damn muscle." one boy stated, looking very seriously at the other, then glancing in his direction. No, OC's direction. "You there, I'd stay back if I were you. He's a killer."

Rizzo's eyes widened - there was a killer right in front of them? And all they had was musical implements? Not. Good. Was that a... Sword? Shit.

As the other two ran off, Rizzo became fixed to the spot he stood in. There was a killer. Here. In front of them. He knew he wasn't strong, but he was fast. When feeling fine and taking his pills. Without the caffeine flowing through his system, he was dead in seconds. Guaranteed.

"Oh shit, do something OC..." he whispered, his voice barely even conveying the words. Things were fine when there were just killers on the island - now there was ONE IN FRONT OF THEM.

Most people, or at least those that knew Fiona, probably considered her a little slow or dumb. She was the overly perky and optimistic type with not a lick of common sense or logic. Fiona knew what most people thought of her, knew that most people probably labeled her as the fat and happy cheerleader with the mentality of a slow ogre, but she didn't mind much. She would prove them one day. One day, her secret intelligence would shock everyone around her.

Was now one of those times?

..No. Fiona was being as unobservant and dumb as ever. No, she didn't realize that Nick was a killer. No, she wasn't paying attention to the fact that he had one bag stuck in his hand, probably gripping some sort of weapon or, oh hell, a gun. She didn't even notice the specks of blood or the signs of struggle that were obviously on the boy. If there was an award given for the most oblivious person on the island, Fiona would probably receive it without even realizing it.

She chalked it up to just being tired. Yeah, that's it. Regardless, there she stood with her large eyes glued on Nick, her face molded into a look of patience as she waited for his response. She was hopeful that he had seen Evelyn, but his response came out negative. Fiona shook her head and planted her palms onto her knees. "Oh, shoot. Well, if you see her around, just give us a holler, alright?" she asked with a smile, smoothing down her bangs. She usually kept her thick hair pushed back with a headband, but.. it must have gotten lost on her transportation to the island. She could have sworn that she was wearing it on the bus ride to "camp"...

That's when she noticed his sword. Way to go AGAIN, Fiona. Not noticing something completely obvious. Her eyes doubled in size, and she raised her eyebrows in shock. "Wow-ee! Look'it that thing. Badass." She was about to comment on her weapon which looked slight in comparison to this Nick person's. He was asking about a few of his own friends, which Fiona responded quite similar to his response concerning Evelyn. "No, sorry.. I'll keep my eyes out for them. I know of Jennifer Perez, but the other two I'm unfamiliar with. Oh wait, Ivan? Didn't he..." She trailed off, running a hand across her chin. If she had a beard, she would be stroking it right now.

Her thought on Ivan hadn't been given enough time to stew, and her mind was focused on something else -- another boy who had approached. This boy was a bit more familiar than Nick; she recognized him as Orpheus from one of her classes. She managed a slight wave but shook her head in response to his question. "No, sorry. I can keep an eye out for her," she suggested helpfully, looking around as if any of these people might appear from mid-air. "I hope you guys find who you're looking for! I'm really just looking for-

"Holy shit, what are you doing?" Fiona asked, eyes wide. She was staring at Nick who had just pulled a gun out on Nick. Was she missing something? Was there some detail that had been conveniently left out for her? Maybe Nick stole Nik's twinky or something.. or maybe they just had too similar of names..

"He's a killer."

Fiona's heart nearly stopped. She kept glancing from Nick to Nik to Orpheus and back to Nik again. "Oh dear," was all she managed to croak out, taking careful steps into the careful protective zone of Nik. He whispered something in her ear, something, but she was barely paying attention. She just nodded. It wasn't like she was scared.. more like excited, but.. Nick was a killer. He didn't seem so dangerous, but it was hard to weed out the psychos from the crazies from the killers from the killers-by-defense. Maybe Nick was one of the above or neither. She honestly didn't feel like finding out. Nick's shiny sword could end up through her head.

The two slipped away from the scene as silently as they came. Just as Nik kept his gun pointed at Nick, Fiona kept her eyes glued on Nick, giving him an unreadable blank stare. And once he was out of view, she looked ahead and jogged out of sight with Nik.

"I think I teamed up with the right guy."

((Fiona Sparki continued in Fountain of Youth))

Nick really just wanted Nik and Fiona to go away. He was feeling irritable enough, but Fiona having the nerve to act happy sent him over the edge. And not only that, but there was another kid there, and that set off an even more disproportionate response, and he thought he should just excuse himself bluntly and leave, because he was always rather blunt, maybe even churlish, and he didn't want to get involved in an endless stream of pleasantries and inquiries, and screw manners on this island and now Fiona was getting suspicious because he'd mentioned Ivan and-

Gun.

His thoughts snapped back into focus and whirled around that deadly little piece of metal. This was the third time this had happened (though only the second that he knew about), and he'd have to stare down the barrels of many more before the experience got any less jarring. Thankfully there was no hardened killer behind it this time. And if he'd survived back in the forest (he almost chuckled in spite of himself because seriously, how had he gotten away?) he could worm out of the situation now.

He thought about pulling some awesome action movie stunt. Grab the gun, knock it to the side, do a commando roll, whatever. There had to be some sort of dynamic reaction that he could use to take control of the situation. Nik was within the melee zone - if he dashed forward, accelerated like a jackrabbit, grabbed the heavy metal of the sword's hilt and swung upwards...

He would get shot, that's what would happen.

And then, suddenly, surprisingly, Nik was walking away. That was it. Threat neutralized. Sure, he was keeping the gun trained on Nick - but really, there was no way he was actually going to pull that trigger like that, much less hit his target. That was good. And yet...

Almost subconsciously, he traced a finger along the hilt of the estoc. He wanted to run after them, sprint flat-out until he could reach Nik, shove the sword right through his neck. And if he turned and fired? All the better. Because that meant he could sense Nick, sense the oncoming angel of death, feel that barrier between life and death grow hopelessly thin as Nick Reid, the most dangerous man on the island, came with the speed and fury of the devil himself! And then Nik would see, Fiona would see, every student on the island would see that they'd crossed the wrong guy. They'd take him seriously then. He'd be able to run with the big dogs. Maxwell, Clio, whoever - swap gore stories before fighting like equals, but Nick would come out on top, always on top because this was Survival of the Fittest and what was he if not the fittest...

And then he remembered that Orpheus was still standing there.

"Um, hi there," he said. "I- uh, yeah, you know, I'm a reasonable guy. No wanton raping and pillaging or anything. Look," he said, pulling the sword out of his belt loop and tossing it onto the ground, point lying next to the stump on which he promptly sat down. "I'm gonna be 100% honest here, I don't want to go after you or anything, I'm really going after those guys who can't keep it together. Maxwell and Ivan, guys with a screw loose. I mean, I got that sword," he gestured to it, "off a guy who killed someone with it. One less armed predator, yeah?"

Nick hoped Orpheus would buy the explanation. He'd embroidered the truth just a bit (but come on, how was Phil not going to die from that?), but on the whole he thought he was being pretty honest. After all, if he could best a fellow player, so much the better for his reputation. For now though, he really didn't want to go after someone just trying to enjoy their last days. Were OC to attack, of course, that would change in an instant. The sword was within easy reach for a reason, and he'd soon learn why the word pummel is derived from pommel.

"I don't really care where you got that sword."

It was like Orpheus was listening to himself speak. He felt Rizzo behind him, not like he would stay if something went down. Rizzo would let OC die, if it came down to that. No question.

"You killed someone, that's on you man. Unless you're trying to kill me you're not my problem right now."

Man, Momma is probably shaking her head at me right now.

Wasn't he supposed to help stop the killers? Or tell them they were wrong, or take a weapon, or something? Instead, he was looking the other way.

He would make up for it later though. Soon as he found her.

"You attack me, I'll fight back. Again, have you seen my friend Josée?" This was starting to piss him off.

Rizzo couldn't believe how cool and calm OC was acting! This guy admitted killing and obviously had more than one weapon if he 'acquired' a new one. If there was any food in his body, Rizzo was certain he would have soiled himself.

But what could he do? He couldn't defend himself, let alone stop a killer. Even IF that killer was targeting other killers.

"Like some kinda fucked up Punisher..." he muttered to himself. He'd watched that film. And if he was going after Ivan, it was pretty fitting. Especially if the fight took place through several apartments...

So, if this guy let them leave - what then? Rizzo wanted to stay with OC no matter what - but travelling the island looking for this Josée? What, was it a rare Pokémon or something? What if they'd been travelling in the wrong direction? Or passed them and missed them by half a mile to their left?

Sure, Rizzo had nobody to look for and just wanted to live as long as possible... But he wouldn't have minded seeing Janet one last time. Preferably nude and spread-eagle for him...

At least he was still a teenage boy despite all the old-person aches and pains...

Everything seemed to be rolling along nice and smooth.

Nick found himself getting more and more irritated.

Orpheus seemed a little irritated too. Or maybe he was just trying to be both implacable and threatening at the same time. Either way, he wasn't acting happy.

Nick felt a little better.

All the kid wanted was to find some girl Nick hadn't seen. After briefly considering telling him that she was dead (his usual flat reply, though he was unaccustomed to situations where people might be inclined to believe him), he considered for a moment how to answer. He thought of Jennifer, standing in the gloom, telling him he didn't deserve to die, the only freaking person on the island who didn't seem to want him dead. Finding her again, begging her acceptance, letting his thoughts flow freely as his tears, knowing that there was someone out there who held more than just contempt for him, the closest he'd get to a friend until the brutal ending of his life...

He thought of Tabi, kneeling before him, coughing, as Ivan beat him to the ground. The fury in his eyes, his willingness to kill for her. And then Tabi herself, robbing him of his peace, taking away a chance to leave the island far behind him. He felt longing again, but this time a longing to see Ivan lying in a bloody heap, watching Tabi die in front of him, feeling the loss Nick felt. You could take your couples, he decided, and chuck them off the nearest convenient cliff.

"You know," he said, picking up the sword that OC had infuriatingly failed to attempt to steal, "I think I have seen her. Not up close, of course. No use patting down every dead body I come across, I'm sure you'll agree." The words didn't feel right at all. But as far as he was concerned, his conscience could go hang itself. Useless thing would only get him into trouble anyway.

The conversation was clearly over, but before he strode away, he thought, it would be cool to do some little flourish or whatever with the sword, demonstrate his utter contempt or whatever. Something that would get OC raving about how smooth and skilled and deadly he was.

The estoc flipped through the air, glinting in the sun, and then tumbled out of Nick's hands and onto the ground.

More agitated than ever (which made him feel a little better, because it was good old-fashioned self-hatred, the kind of rotten mood he could enjoy being in), he turned on the spot and headed back the way he'd came. If he wanted to find Jennifer again, maybe she'd still be hanging out near the tunnels. And if she was, he'd try to remember how bad of a catch he was before he did anything fancy.

((Nick Reid continued in Carpe Noctum))

Rizzo managed to start to relax a little as the psycho killer walked away. Though the fact he wasn't fazed by seeing bodies was quite disturbing. He didn't pat them down - but he did other stuff maybe?

"We should go too..." he whispered to OC, still unsure that Nick wouldn't just loop around and come attack them. Sword or no sword, he had killed more than once. Probably with more than one weapon too...
"What d'you think?"

OC wasn't impressed by Nick's show. He wasn't even afraid of him, which was crazy. Who wasn't afraid of a admitted murderer?

But he'd implied that Josée was dead, which pissed him off futher. Sure he didn't believe him, but had Nick not left, he would had a fight on his hands.

This was ridiculous, he needed to find her. NOW.

"Yeah man, no sense in being added to some asshole's kill count."

They made their way out of the woods, hopefully going to someplace that had less murderers and more friends.

((Orpheus Campbell continued elsewhere))

Rizzo walked close behind OC as he walked away - this was not a very comforable situation.

Not that anything about this was comfortable...

But here was this guy, looking for... Whoever it was... His girlfriend? His fiancée maybe? Boyfriend, even? This constant crappy-feeling wasn't very good for helping him think and retain information...

"We'll... Find your buddy..." he muttered as he followed him. At least he had a reason to keep going... Rizzo didn't have anyone to find. Any reason to survive this whole ordeal...

((Rizzo Vitoria continued in Thank You For Being A Friend))