Survival Of The Fittest

(Andrea Raymer continued from Out on a Tether)

It'll be a hatch. Yeah, that's it, it'll be a badass hatch here in the jungle and the Secret Chopper Crew will go down and there'll be a whole big command center set up and then I'll sneak down once they leave and then...

Aarrgh. What the hell was that old expression? Cart before the horse or something? Her dad would've known. Whatever it was, they hadn't even seen the Secret Chopper Crew yet. For all she knew, the chopper had come to toss Mr. Kwong onto the island with a collar for shits and giggles. But bottom line was that this was like serious fucking business now and she couldn't wander off with her rambling thoughts.

Because they were seriously rambling now. Might be all the Wellbutrin she'd downed earlier in lieu of her regular meds. She didn't like doing that, didn't like that she was just experimenting, but she had to string out the good stuff for as long as possible, and if that meant taking these new pills and shipping her cerebrum out to new adventures unknown, them's the breaks, to use another of those expressions, and Jesus argh the song lyrics were actually preferable to this stuff, just do that and--

Everybody's got a hunger, a hunger they can't resist
There's so much that you want, you deserve much more than this
But if dreams came true, oh wouldn't that be nice
But this ain't no dream, we're living through tonight
You want it, you take it, you pay the price

--damnit Bruce that's not particularly subtle and kinda pessimistic but it could help her calm down a bit.

And focus. OK. Where was she?

Ah yes, the Chopper Crew tossing Kwong on the island.

Of course, she'd prefer that to some other possible scenarios. Andrea was the fangirl, remember, and any fangirl worth her salt knew what happened way back in v1 when a helicopter full of terrorists touched down. She hadn't told Allen about that. Wouldn't be wise. But she had to dive into the deep end of the pool at some point. And flinging some terrorists into the game to slaughter kids wholesale didn't make sense given the death rate had shown no sign of dropping. Besides, if they did discover something like that, well, she and Allen were keeping their distance for a reason. Andrea had it all planned out.

After the initial paranoia wore off, it hadn't taken Andrea long to decide she needed to investigate the chopper firsthand. Greedy fantasies being led straight to the generator had invaded her thoughts, and she rationalized that even assuming that was overly optimistic, they could still glean a shitload of potential information from finding out in the flesh what was up. Convincing Allen hadn't been difficult. He seemed to be on board once she'd assured him they'd hang back and never charge blindly in. And he'd also come up with their mission's cover story for the cameras.

They'd been keeping south of the oversized road where, to Andrea's best guess, the helicopter had landed a couple hours ago. So far, their journey hadn't borne any fruit. The copter itself had touched down beyond their sightline, and roared back up and vanished into the wild blue yonder from whence it came not long after. So, since it had to have SOME purpose for being here, and since they hadn't caught sight of any new weapons or rations or mystery boxes, that could only, her superlogic declared, mean they'd dropped one or more unknown persons onto the island. How clever she was.

Andrea and Allen had tracked westward to get to the road, so they were continuing that way for now. She figured whoever came from the chopper was also heading that direction, if for no other reason than because she would've seen them otherwise. Bah, her kingdom for a pair of binoculars; they'd be pretty damn useful right now. Ah well.

She scribbled a couple lines in her notebook, then passed it along to Allen.

-They're probably heading to the woods over there, it's been a DZ 2 days now
-Liz Polanski's prob. there too, makes sense that she'd hide where ppl can't find her

Of course, they couldn't just barge into a dangerzone in search of death and glory. But they could follow. And then wait. And then... well, who knows what they might find out?

"Yeah, the chopper's definitely gone, so, uh... that sucks," she said. "Guess it wasn't the Marines after all."

Verbalizing any of those thoughts would be primo dumb though. Hence her totally casual banter about expecting the cavalry to arrive. Danya would fall for it, guaranteed, because Danya was stupid and assumed the same of everybody else.

"I dunno. Maybe they dropped some teachers on the island; I think I remember reading they did that in one of the early runs, like the non-televised ones. But we should probably stay away from the road down there, just in case. You uh, want to stop for lunch or something?"

Andrea had gone through the bag they'd picked up from Max Neill a while back, and while there'd been nothing in the matter of weaponry or other interesting stuff, they had grabbed his assigned food and water along with some protein bars and candy. She'd harbored some hope of an secret drug stash or something equally illicit, but apparently their late Student Council President had been as wholesome as he'd seemed. He was no Andrea Vanlandingham, that much was certain.

"Hopefully we can keep finding supplies. That's, uh, especially recently that's one of the things they do to make sure you don't hide out the whole time, cause you'll run out after a few days. And back in like, the first season there were nowhere near as many kids, so the game didn't last as long."

((Allen Birkman continued from Out on a Tether))

Allen glanced over the notes Andrea gave him, memorizing the information, then closed the book and handed it back to his companion. 'Man, Liz is in for a whole load of shit if she gets herself caught by them,' Allen thought, reminded of Lucy's untimely and gruesome death thanks to the girl's destructive actions. It had to have pissed Danya and his goons off to no end, and he really wouldn't want to be in her shoes right about now.

It was a big risk they were taking themselves, making their way in the direction the helicopter was heading, but as long as they kept their distance from whatever was happening, nothing bad would come out of it, right? And with the flat terrain of the felled forest, they could see for miles in pretty much every direction. So there was virtually no chance of a sneak attack on them.

"Sure, let's stop for a bit," Allen replied, plonking himself down on the nearest tree stump and sighed noisily. He reached inside his bag and pulled out a half-eaten candy bar that he'd plundered from the late Student Council President's bag. He chewed on the remainder of the snack, wondering just how much weight he'd have lost through not eating alone. He was sorely tempted to snack on another bar just to satisfy his hunger, but he fought it, knowing he had to conserve their supplies.

Just in case the people watching them grew suspicious, Allen had suggested to Andrea they use the excuse that they were walking past the logging road and instead heading towards the western side of the island. Well, there was an element of truth in that, since he hadn't been that way before and once they'd done what they were going to do, they probably would go on their merry way and explore on that side of the island afterward. Like Andrea said, hopefully they'd find a couple of discarded duffel bags in the process. Goodness knows the supplies picked up from Max's bag weren't going to keep the pair of them going forever.

The memory of visiting the boarding school and viewing the plaque entered his thoughts again at the mention of the earlier version of the deadly game. 'Sidney Crosby... you poor guy...'

"Hey, uh, Andrea," Allen started, tossing the empty wrapper to the floor, "since you're clued up about the whole Survival of the Fittest stuff, would you know who Sidney Crosby was?"

((Roland Hayes and Dutchy Ayers continued from The Long Road Home))

((Light GMing for Dutchy here.))

As Allen and Andrea talked in the morning light, another pair of students wandered in from over the horizon. The game had not been kind to Roland and Dutchy during the last six days, and the morning had seen them at the lowest point in their entire lives. They walked a good five feet apart from each other, at least, and their eyes rarely met. In fact, Dutchy seemed to cringe whenever he caught a glimpse of Roland, quickly looking away and shaking. Roland responded by simply hanging his head, where it usually stayed as he walked. He said nothing, only occasionally sniffling and glancing at the sharp tip of his harpoon.

Dutchy seemed afraid of him now. Practically petrified, as though Roland was putting a gun to his back and forcing him to go with him. And why not? Roland had gone completely crazy, saving Dutchy from a fucking suicide attempt and dragging him to the infirmary for the sinister purpose based on a psychotic delusion that Dutchy's head injuries were more serious than they actually were. How dare Roland show concern for him.

Oh yeah. That's not all he did.

Since the incident at the house, Roland had made great haste to the south, carrying both his and Dutchy's daypacks on his shoulders and escorting Dutchy, whose head injuries made it hard for him to keep up with Roland. They finally got there, only to discover that anything that had remained in the infirmary had long since been pillaged. Whatever the terrorists hadn't gotten when preparing the island, the students had come across. Really, what did Roland expect? They had five days. That's 120 hours.

So Roland was stuck desperately trying to look at Dutchy and determine the extent of his injuries. All he really knew about diagnosing brain injuries was looking into the eyes, and Dutchy's eyes looked perfectly normal, if a little tired from their experience. The question in Roland's mind was far from settled, but all in all, this was just one more thing he couldn't do shit about, and just had to deal with. He finally fell asleep on an examining table, somehow avoiding tossing himself onto the floor during his restless dreams.

Then the announcements happened. And Roland's worst fears came true.

He didn't know how long he'd managed to stay calm. It couldn't have been for any substantial amount of time. The first thing Dutchy saw of Roland awake was him swinging a chair around at everything else he could find. Glass was smashed, wood was splintered, and metal was warped as Roland's throat wore itself out screaming and tears flowed from his eyes. When the chair finally broke into fragments too small for him to do any damage with, he used his fists and feet, knocking as many holes as he could through the hollow walls of the building. But as much as he wanted it at the moment, he couldn't bring down the building with his bare hands, and he wore himself out before even finished scarring one wall.

He sobbed to himself for another minute, then noticed Dutchy cowering in the corner, lucky not to have been hurt by Roland's rampage. Not knowing what else to say, Roland suggested getting a move-on, and Dutchy immediately complied, scared of what might happen if he hesitated.

Now Roland stared at his harpoon, picturing himself shoving it into his gut, or perhaps holding the sharp edges to his wrists and cutting away. He had such great reason to do it, to. His sister, sweet Lillian, the one girl who deserved this hellhole least of all, was dead, and the only other friend who wasn't god knows where on this rock thought Roland was going to kill him. Was there even any point in meeting Sarah and Bridget again?

"Dutchy..." he finally said after an hour of silence. "Dutchy, please say something."

Pathetic. But what else could be said.

He didn't know why he'd done it anymore. It had been stupid. It hadn't solved anything. It had been STUPID. The cut was still there, visible underneath his light blond hair. He couldn't have hidden it, no matter what he'd told himself in those first few minutes. Roland had hauled him halfway across the island like that.

Roland knew he wasn't okay. And that was what hurt most of all. Dutchy would have never done that in Minnesota. He was terrified of blood. Terrified of injury, pain and suffering. Danya had already beaten him.

Dutchy wanted to stall. He wanted to tell Roland to lie when they found the others- IF they found the others. But he wouldn't. Roland cared about him.

And that was the only reason he was still...

He shouldn't care about me.

Dutchy couldn't forget the infirmary. The announcement had woken him up, just like all the one's past. He heard the name. He'd lain in silence, his head pounding with grief. He didn't know if he wanted to cry anymore, if he could even manage to cry. It seemed pointless. No one would care if he wept or not. Crying was in itself becoming a hollow act, a ritual devoid of meaning. He hated himself for even thinking like that. He'd only moved when Roland began to tear the room apart.

The first few minutes of the attack had been terrifying. Roland was violent, a monster from Dutchy's darkest nightmares, a warped imitation of his friend, fueled by his hatred, destroying anything he could get his hands on. Chairs broke, glass smashed. Roland's shouts pierced through Dutchy, hurting him more so then he'd ever hurt in his life. It wasn't bloodlust, it was pain. He screamed until Dutchy was sure his friends throat was bleeding. Roland had been broken, and there was no way for Dutchy to stitch him back up, not with all the love or medicine in the world. Roland had died, just as he had died. Dutchy had nearly puked in fear. He couldn't be exactly sure when his friend had calmed down enough to notice his presence. Dutchy saw the regret in his eyes and instantly felt more shame. Roland still had responsibility. He still had to keep it together, he still had to smile and pretend it was all okay, a feat Dutchy could never again hope to replicate.

If I wasn't here, he could have found her in time.

Dutchy was sick all over his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He was as cold as ice the next day, shaking as he shouldered his pack and followed Roland out of the infirmary. He'd changed his t-shirt, but it counted for little. The idea had stuck in his mind, taking root until it was the only thing he could think about. That, and his friends rage. He wasn't scared of retaliation. He was scared of the reality of it. There were kids in the dark, committing far greater atrocities then Roland would ever be able to manage. He wasn't just going to die, he was going to die horribly.

Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's what I deserve. I gave up. Roland could've found her if I wasn't on that beach, if I'd woken up somewhere else. They could've found someone useful there- someone who'd escape. Instead there was me. What am I good for. I've just ruined everything.

The walk had been mostly quiet. Neither of the two had been in the mood for talking. Dutchy didn't know what to say, if anything, about Roland's sister. He wasn't sure if there was a God. He'd like to believe it, he'd been told there was one. But there was so much suffering he doubted it could be true. It didn't matter if he believed or not. Danya's island didn't have a God.

"Dutchy, please say something."

He looked up at his friend, struggling hard to keep from shaking. He had no idea what was going through Roland's head. What did he feel? Sorrow? Anger? Pity? Guilt?

He doesn't deserve this.

Dutchy opened his mouth, struggling to form words. It had been so long since he'd talked out loud it felt as he were forgetting bit by bit. He hesitated, unsure of what exactly he should say.

"I'm sorry Roland. I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- back at the house. I'm sorry for that. And just-" He paused, looking around, nervous and fidgeting. He needed to say it. It'd been on his mind long enough. God forgive him. Better yet, let Roland forgive him.

"Roland I..."

Töluð orð verða ekki aftur tekin

"I- I..."

Töluð orð verða ekki aftur tekin

"Roland I, I think. If- If we can't- if they don't come for us - I don't want you worrying about me I- I think you should-"

Töluð orð verða ekki aftur tekin

What was he doing? What was he saying? Tears seemed to permanently stain his face, no matter how often he'd wipe them off. They flowed freely again as he choked on his words, barely believing himself and what he was suggesting. This wasn't him. He wanted out. He didn't want to linger and remind Bayview of what they'd lost.

Best to be prepared.

"I'd like it to be you if- if it comes to... that."

((Alice Blake continued from Stay Frosty))

Fucking danger zones. Fucking death island. Fucking Danya. Fucking Tim. Fucking Vic, running off, leaving her alone. Fucking everything. Alice was one stubbed toe from falling to her knees and cursing the heavens. She was bitter and angry, hurt, betrayed, and feeling more then a little hopeless. If it wasn't for Bounce urging her onward, God, she didn't know what she'd do.

If wasn't that Vic was gone, not really. It was how she had left. If she was killed, show down at Alice's side, that would be one thing. No doubt Alice would be wracked with guilt and horrible sorrow, but she could accept that. Maybe even learn to cope with it. Something. But this, Vic making a conscious choice to leave her behind? That was worse by far. That at some point in her thought process, Vic decided that Alice was dead weight and she'd be better of on her own. Alice would put on a brave face for Bounce, but it was killing her.

Trying to figure out the why, the reason, whatever it was that compelled Vic to strike of on her own. Was it something Alice had done? Some example of an incapability to protect Vic? Or did Vic just get tired of her? Maybe this was just a long time coming, and Vic was just seizing the opportunity presented to her.

There were enough scenarios or imagined reasons that Alice would have gone mad trying to cover them all. They all boiled down to the fact that it was just her and Bounce. All alone on a big island, effectively unarmed and defenseless. If Alice could put aside her personal problems for a second, she could try and think of a way around that. Bounce has a gas can, but that would hardly ward of an assailant. She had six bullets and no gun to fire them. Once again, she wished she were Macgyver.

If they were being optimistic when taking stock of any assets, they could mention that she was a fit and athletic young woman. Which might have been a boon, if she didn't have a concussion and a gunshot wound. As it was, her abilities were diminished somewhat. At the very least, Bounce still had her smarts. Now they just needed someone with a rapier and they could have the trifecta of brains strength and steel. As it was, well, let's hope Bounce had some diplomatic skills to fall back on.

Back in the town square, Bounce had mentioned the sawmill. Being the muscle in the outfit, Bounce's wish was her command. Being the sick bastard in charge of the island, Danya decided that it wouldn't be that easy and made the quickest route go through a danger zone. Which was how they found themselves in the felled forest to the south of the sawmill. It was her idea that they loop around, clearing the danger zone and heading up to the sawmill.

So, that was what they did. There was a period of preparation and they set off. They hadn't been moving long before the announcements started up. For a heart-stopping second, she thought she had heard Vic's name. During that second, she froze, her ears straining, as if she'd be able to hear some secret message hidden under Danya's voice. After another second, Alice decided that it was just a mistake. The result of a tire iron to the head, if you will. Just to save Bounce the possible trouble of thinking the same thing, she glanced over her shoulder. "Wasn't Vic." She said simply, confidently. Putting that moment of terror of mind, they kept going. She half-listened to the names rattled off, back after her scare, she didn't listen too closely.

And she kept right on going until she spied two figures ahead. Once was sitting, the other standing. Judging by the bit where neither had moved, she would have guessed that they hadn't seen them. Alice looked at Bounce, before nodding at the pair. "They haven't seen us. What do you want to do?"

((Ash Morrison continued from Darken Your Clothes and Strike a Violent Pose))

This was.... terrible. No, more like the usual. She had to get used to this situation. Ash had nearly run out of supplies again, and people were milling about. All she needed was a distraction before she could swoop in and grab their stuff.

Was that what she wanted to do, though? Ash could just try and bargain with them.

The thought put a slight smile on her face, although the amusement faded quickly. That was a silly idea. There was no way that she could make a peaceful trade in these times. It was unfortunate, but depending on people to not kill her during the 'game' wasn't a smart idea.

She wasn't going to question her decisions, not if the issue was one of morality. At least, that's what she resolved to do. It was a fact that she had already stolen from a corpse, and she wasn't about to quit any time soon. As soon as she finished justifying her crimes to herself, a calm expression spread over her face.

The endlessly looping thought of survival at the expense of dignity repeated itself once more, moving her focus back towards thievery. Ash wouldn't figure her plight out, not even if she took the time to try and think about it.

Like a broken machine, she could only repeat the same functions over and over until she was jarred out of it. Even back when she was hiding from Reiko, the loop was there in a more prolonged fashion. Hide, scavenge, consume, sleep, repeat. Those were the five steps that she would take no matter what she thought about or how she decided to change her behaviour.

Now, step one would be take place. Crawling on her belly to try and avoid detection, Ash watched over the group with cold eyes and waited for her chance to take what she needed.

((Stay Frosty --> Bounce))

Travelling with Alice was a lot less wearing on Bounce's mind than travelling with Victoria.

That shouldn't really have made sense. Alice was injured, Vic had been in full health. Then again, Alice had actually stood up to the confrontation back in the town square, when they'd met that guy at the beach... Vic had made her take the lead. ... Bounce still resented that, a little. She wasn't the tall confident, good looking one... Bounce was the one that looked like she spent all of her time in front of a computer scr- oh wait.

Maybe it was because Alice was her friend, and Vic was just Alice's girlfriend.

Her paranoia had paid off, apparently, Victoria had gone running at the first sign of trouble.

Bounce felt a little vindicated by that. Slightly bad for Alice, of course, but mostly satisified that her gut instinct had been correct.

So... that just made the little Russian wonder if she was making a big mistake by going against said instincts and trusting that Aaron actually had half a clue and a decent idea. Hm. Well, it was either that or stumble around blindly until one or both of them were killed, and neither Bounce nor Alice was armed. One of the rare occasions where there would be strength in numbers. A lot of people to put her trust in... but Aaron seemed to have had them together, at least to an extent. It was secondary reliance, once again... but this wasn't a strategy that was going to work.

Wandering around never ended well.

Bounce was studying her friend's tired, determined face when the announcements kicked on, had opened her mouth to pose a question when...

Shit.

Casual, off hand. But... it was Vic. She'd been killed in between now and running off from them earlier. Shit. Alice's girlfriend... Just because Bounce didn't want to travel with her didn't mean she wanted her dead.

Alice brushed it off. Crap, that just made it worse. It was an outright denial of the truth. ...She knew, she must've heard. To turn around and say so brazenly the complete opposite of what was on the announcement.... Goddammit Vic. Why the hell had she had to run off and get herself killed!? That just ruined all of this. Finally with somebody she could actually trust, and what was going to happen? Bounce was going to have to ground her in reality and tell her that her girlfriend HAD in fact just died.

Wow... Yelizaveta. That's sensitive, right? Somebody's dead and all you can think about is the effect on your game? Not the emotional impact on the fact that it's the damn closest person to your best friend that died? Cold... just cold.

Sensible, maybe.

Bounce was still trying to figure out how to 'break' the 'news' when Alice turned to ask her for advice. Startled, it took Bounce a moment to process the question.

"Ah... best to keep our distance for now, I think. Allow them to make the first move. We don't want to provoke anyone."

((Andrea/Allen combo-post GO!))

Well, that was a bit of a random question.

"Sidney Crosby? As in the Sidney Crosby from V1?" Andrea asked, just to make sure Allen hadn't gotten confused with another person of a similar name. There was a Sydney in the same version as Crosby, but he wasn't well known at all, in fact he was only the second person to die and was easily forgotten, wasn't he? 'And just what's that got to do with Allen's question? You need to quit going off on that tangent.'

A nod from Allen confirmed that her assumption was indeed correct, so she continued. "Um, oh yeah, Sidney Crosby. He was supposedly one of the top hockey players of his age, at least until he was captured, that is. Most people know him now as one of the final four in his version of SOTF."

"Whoa, whoa, he actually made it that far?" Allen asked in disbelief. "H-how many people did he kill to get there?"

"Oh, to be fair, there were only around, what, 120 students in V1. He didn't really do a whole lot either, although he did manage to get Amanda Jones killed, which pissed Adam Dodd off to no end, not to mention Cody Jenson who was trying to kill him." Allen stared blankly at Andrea as she explained, having absolutely no idea who any of the other people that she was rattling off actually were. "If I remember correctly he got two kills in, though one was an accident."

"So what happened... y'know... in the final?" Allen asked.

"Well, Cody and Dodd also made it to the 'endgame', as they like to call it, and Cody went to shoot Dodd. However, Sidney leaped in front of him and took the bullet, allowing Dodd to finish off Cody. For someone who was widely considered a coward throughout all of V1, it was a pretty brave thing to do and okay Allen I think you'd better turn around we have company right behind us."

Allen swiveled around quickly on the tree stump, so fast that he lost his balance and fell off sideways. "Whoa!" he cried out, trying to push himself back up onto his makeshift seat but failed to do so. "Ugh, stupid tree," he cursed, righting himself on the ground and looking ahead where Andrea was staring. Two girls, both with black hair, were standing in the distance, and looked to be staring back at them. "Um, what do we do?" he asked, getting back to his feet.

"Depends on who they are and how friendly," Andrea said, squinting her eyes to get a better view at the pair. 'Well this has made things a lot more complicated. Can we even trust them? Can we trust anyone, for that matter? Can I trust Allen-okay, that was a stupid question.'

Andrea took the notepad and scribbled something hastily onto the top piece of paper. "Okay, we'll let them come over if they want to, but be prepared for anything." She then showed Allen the message she'd written:

do NOT tell them anything!!!

And then Andrea quickly scrunched the piece of paper up again. Allen simply nodded in agreement.

((Insert apology for tardiness here))

Roland turned back to look at Dutchy. He'd just offered to give his life to let Roland live, if it came to that. The same intent made him crack his head on the mirror, made Roland panic and go to the infirmary, set off a chain reaction that put them there. "I... I..." What could he possibly say about that?

"I'll make sure it doesn't come to that," he said, knowing he couldn't do that at all. Then again, maybe he'd be right after all. There was no way that both of them would survive to the final four.

No! He couldn't think like that. But how could he put on a happy face now? He'd told Sarah to meet him in the infirmary, which he'd left a battered wreck in one room, and now he had no idea where they were. It was pure dumb luck that he'd managed to find her or Dutchy or Bridget at all, and he wouldn't get lucky twice. They might as well be across the sea for all it mattered.

And without Sarah, Roland was truly fucked. She'd always been the brains of the activist club; for all the research Roland liked to do about politics, he'd never had what it took to propose new ideas, to do anything except simply sharing information with other people. Sarah was the one who came up with the plan, the plan that he could barely remember after the trauma of the past day, and he didn't know if he could pull it off by himself. Should he try to follow it? Should he try to find Liz Polanski or some other potential escapists? Should he take his chances with that helicopter he saw in the sky a few hours ago?

His question was answered for him when he caught a glimpse of Bounce Volkova.

Bounce was a student he hadn't exactly been on good terms with throughout his stay at school. On a few occasions, whenever the subject of SOTF had been brought up, he'd gotten into a heated argument with her about it. She was one of the fans, the ones who thought it was staged entertainment that couldn't possibly be real. Even before Roland knew those kids were truly dying, he'd hated the show because of how phenomenally ugly it was. If the rape and murder of Madeleine Shirohara was supposed to disgust the audience to their fucking core, mission accomplished, but so what? It wasn't compelling television, it was pointless, repetitive slasher bullshit.

So he and Bounce had a strained relationship. When the topic didn't come up, they got along okay. He hoped that would be the case now, now that their perspectives on the game were significantly closer. "Bounce!" he called out to her, before remembering to drop his harpoon. "It's me, Roland! I'm unarmed!"

Whatever you do, he told himself, do not say "I told you so!"

Dutchy could only nod weakly at Roland's answer. The sheer nature of his request seemed to have struck the bigger boy, and although he vowed he wouldn't let it come to that, Dutchy wasn't naive anymore. Death was inevitable. Maybe Roland would make it, but he didn't stand a chance.

He didn't want a chance.

I'm going to die. I'm already dead.

"Okay." He managed to whisper, so soft it was barely intelligible amidst the various other sounds of the forest. Dutchy stared down at his shoes thinking of home, thinking of his parents and his room and his comics and the chants of his favorite soccer team coming from the speakers, thinking about collage and trips to a far off island...

I don't want to wait until the end. I want it back now. It's not greedy. I'm not asking for much. I just want to... to... go... with that in my mind. While my mind is still clear, while I can still remember what I was like.I need to go now before something else happens. Before Roland does something, hurts himself for me. I couldn't- no, no, not that. He can't get hurt. He's been so kind. I've been so terrible, I've been a horrible person and he's been so nice, and it's already cost him so much...

Roland doesn't get it. I... I have to go now, want to, don't I? And I need him to help me...


"Roland I... I want it to be like th-"

And suddenly, Roland began to yell, dropping his harpoon to the ground. Dutchy nearly jumped out of his skin, before realizing he was shouting towards a girl, standing in the foliage nearby, two in actuality. Dutchy did a quick nervous shamble, his arms bunched up against his chest as if he were desperately holding his guts in. As pathetic as it was, he kept behind Roland, his heart pounding. He didn't know who they were all that well. Bounce, he'd heard of her, but hadn't had an opportunity to meet her. The girl she was with was a complete unknown.

Are they... Are they going to hurt us?

Dutchy hated the thought, but he knew it was a possibility. He'd met precious few students outside of his core group, some boys back at the house, although his memories of the encounter were foggy.

Stupid Dutchy. You're so stupid!

He had no idea who had been doing the killing for the most part, aside from a few of the major players. The dead had taken up much of his time. Now, the fear was building once again. Dutchy struggled to suppress shakes as the two girls took notice of them. It would be up to Roland to handle them, he was in no state to talk to anyone. More guilt leaked into his mind and Dutchy found himself unable to look at the girls, staring embarrassed towards the ground, face red, on the verge of tears.

Why am I still here...?

((Okay, really short and really temporary place-holder post so Alice doesn't get put on the inactive chopping block. I will expand and improve upon this at a later time. But not now.))

Alice watches Andrea and Allen carefully but doesn't move, on account of Bounce's advice. She murmurs her consent to Bounce to follow what she says, saying something along the lines of, "We'll wait and see what they do, then." She looks grim and suspicious, like a female Punisher.

Before anyone else can do anything that involves walking anywhere, Roland calls out and grabs their attention. Alice goes all Mama Bear and quickly steps in front of Bounce. She's tense and distrusting, eying the opposite pair carefully. On one hand, they know Bounce. On the other hand, one of them had a harpoon. Admittedly, a dropped harpoon, but it was still a threat.

Alice doesn't look away from the Dutchy and Roland, but she tilts her head enough so that Bounce could hear her and other group couldn't. "What do you want to do? Remember the other group as well. We could potentially be trapped here if this is some sort of trick." Not that she thought it was a trick, she just wanted to be prudent. She wished she still had her gun.

Ash looked with a vague feeling of curiosity at the two groups, temporarily snapping out of her trance to evaluate the situation. One boy was calling out to a girl nicknamed Bounce, dropping his harpoon for some reason. Was he trying to be non-threatening? Maybe the two knew each other back in school. She recognized the second boy, however. Dutchy was his name, if she recalled correctly. He was quivering in fear, as far as she could tell.

He is a burden to his friend. Nothing but useless weight.

She couldn't ignore him, though. One pair of eyes was all that was needed to spot her. A carbide lamp wouldn't be able to match against a harpoon, no matter how much strength she had. With Bounce's companion stepping in front of her as a shield, the opportunity Ash had to sneak down vanished. Without a word, she sunk even lower into the foliage. Those two were- Wait, something was off here. Didn't she see another two walk around earlier?

Am I sure that there are only four people standing there?

She briefly glanced around. As far as she could see, there weren't any extras. But a feeling of unease crept its way into her stomach. If she was caught, she would die. What could she do to make her job possible? What could she do to distract them? She was more than ten feet away from them. If there was another group, then she couldn't get away without being chased. She couldn't afford to waste energy like that.

Then I will just have to play them.

Joining them was out of the option. She couldn't trust them to not turn on each other, as she found out with Samya's betrayal. However, she learned that groups tended to fracture along emotional lines. Her target was clear. The unfortunate one would be Dutchy, whose weakness was evident and easily exploitable.

The only question was how she would do this. How would she split the harpoon boy and Dutchy? She didn't have an established method or a clearly thought out answer. So, Ash chose the only option she could see: Improvise. If she failed, she would just retreat to a safe distance and harass them again later.

Picking up a small rock, she took aim and threw it at Dutchy's legs.

((Terribad, but I could not be in less of a posting mood)).

Okay, easy, easy... They'd been spotted, that was fair enough, that factored into Bounce's plan. No guns in sight meant that for once she'd actually made a good call.

A call of her name put a wrench in that. Bounce spun around to regard the new pair approaching them. The stocky black one knew her name, wait, did she... did she actually know who this guy was? Hayes. Hayes something? Something Hayes? They'd... spoken. Ha, spoken was one way of putting it. Argued might perhaps have been a better term. He always seemed to be under the impression she thought it was fake, which was... untrue, but Bounce had never bothered to correct him.

It had haunted her back home and now, more than ever, it haunted her that... even with that knowledge, she'd still watched it. Bounce wasn't naive, but she was morbid.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it abruptly as her eyes caught something whizzing through the air.

Both Andrea and Allen turned to face Roland and his companion the moment he called out to Bounce. "Where the hell is everyone coming from?" Allen whispered to himself, alarmed that they hadn't even noticed the two boys until they'd got within shouting distance of them.

Andrea, meanwhile, was not only concerned by how Roland and Dutchy had arrived without either of them noticing, but also the name he was shouting. 'Is that Roland Hayes? And he's calling out to... oh, it's Bounce,' she thought. "Just... just perfect," Andrea muttered sarcastically. Two girls into SOTF and a boy completely against it. And they were all about to meet up in the middle of the program they loved/abhorred. 'There's gonna be fireworks, that's for sure,' Andrea thought. She would have laughed at the irony of it, but she didn't know how Allen would react to a brief fit of the giggles. Probably would think she was crazy. Probably be right as well. And she couldn't afford to lose Allen, she needed him, dammit.

Andrea and Allen looked back and forth between the two sets of newcomers. A harpoon fell to the ground by Roland's feet, leaving him unarmed and looking a lot less like a threat. Neither Bounce or the other girl had moved much, only turning to face Roland. No weapons on hand either. Guess things weren't as bad as Andrea had initially thought.

In a moment, things became worse than Andrea had initially thought.

Something came sailing through the air out of, well, nowhere. "What the-?!" Allen cried out upon seeing the projectile, while Andrea simply froze when she saw it. 'Holy fuck. Holy fuck is that a grenade?' she frantically thought. 'Oh, oh wait, Allen's got the grenades, it's just a rock. A rock that's about to hit that blond guy-'

She blinked.

'Crap.'

(Light GMing, which I assume is alright.)

He didn't get much of a reaction besides people turning to look at him. Bounce and her friend turned, as well as another couple he just caught out of the corner of his eye. In the short amount of time before he heard Dutchy cry out in pain, he noticed that Bounce's friend looked a bit apprehensive, but Bounce seemed like she wanted to talk back. Meanwhile, that other girl - another fan of the show, if he remembered correctly - just stood there with her friend.

Before Roland could wave to them and ask them to join the party - plenty of room on the failboat for everyone, after all - he noticed that Dutchy wasn't standing anymore. He'd fallen over, clutching at his knee in pain. Roland couldn't see any serious injury; nothing like a gunshot or a stab or a bruise. "Dutchy, what's wrong? What happened?"

The boy looked down at a rock, a signal Roland didn't understand at first. But then he got an idea, noticed that the thing wasn't covered with dirt like every other rock around. It sat on top, like it'd been dug up and put back down again.

Goddammit.

Roland grimaced and picked up the makeshift missile in one hand and looked around. He didn't think any of the four people he'd seen had thrown a rock or anything, but maybe they'd just been too quick for him. "Who threw this?" he asked. "Who the fuck threw this?" A tone of annoyance had crept into his voice now; this was exactly the sort of shit that he didn't need right now.