Survival Of The Fittest

{{continued from The Science of Selling Yourself}}

Hannah spend the first hour or two of her most recent trek through the jungle emotionally numb from her recent brush with death, the scene playing over and over in her head. The whole thing had happened so fast. One moment she was talking with that blonde-haired boy, the next the was falling over dead from a shot to the head, the killer then taking a couple shots right at her, the bullets punching right through that useless plastic shield.

Just an inch or two to the left and...

Eventually, she started to calm down, remembering the bullet that had struck the baton and deflected away from her. Seriously, what were the odds of that? The bullet whizzing by her head was certainly a close call, but the second bullet deflecting off her baton and missing her was nothing short of a miracle.

She reached up for her lucky hat. Maybe there was actually something to it, after all.

After a moment, Hannah started to feel like she had forgotten something, then stopped suddenly as she realized what it was.

"Oh no..." She turned around and looked behind her. Quincy, Warren, Morgan, James. They were nowhere to be found. She made no hesitation in cursing herself out. In her moment of shell shock, she had gone and left SADD right behind.

They'd probably be better off without me... She thought, letting out a sigh. She wasted no time becoming a liability as soon as she joined SADD. When she wasn't freaking out, she was passing out. But then she remembered the stuff about the collars and the virus messing with the terrorist's computer systems that she and Quincy had writtin down. That's right! I need to get this to Neil! She started moving again, then after a minute or two... ...where IS Neil, anyway? She remembered that Neil had gone off to check on Matt and Dominica, who had gone off to collect their BKA weapons, but had he mentioned where the drop-off point was supposed to be? After some thorough brain-wracking, she failed to come up with a location. "Well, that's just great. I'm looking for someone with absolutely no idea where to begin looking."

The break in the trees came suddenly, and a large body of water. Oh good. I could do with stocking up on water again. She thought as she walked closer to the water. Not wanting to get her clothes wet again, she pulled off her shoes and socks, and rolled her pant legs up before trudging into the water with an empty water bottle. She dipped the bottle in and filled it to the brim, pulling it back up and taking a sip before gagging and coughing. "Salty!" This was obviously no place to get more drinking water.

It was then that she noticed it. A hand sticking out of the water. "Huh?" She stared at it blankly for a moment before giving in to stupid curiousity and reaching down to pull on it. She was greeted with a dead body, it's face a bloody pulp. "AAH!" Stumbling back, her foot hit something, and she looked down to see what it was, quickly regretting it as she saw another dead body. From there her eyes just seemed to lock on to dead body to dead body, to dead body, submerged in the water.

"Oh...God..." Rushing back to land, she fell to her hands and knees. Then her brain decided to give her a sucker punch by reminding her that she had just tried to drink water from that lagoon. That she had just taken water in which those corpses were submerged, and put it in her mouth.

It didn't take long for the nausea to come, and for her to empty the contents of her stomach all over the ground, until she was sure there wasn't even anything left.

"What..." She said, gasping for breath. "What the hell happened here?"

((Quincy Archer continued from The Science of Selling Yourself))

"There you are!" Quincy barked at Hannah. He entered with his bag hanging from his right shoulder and holding his new ida sword in his right hand. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been, you thick berk?"

He looked around the area at the corpses that Hannah uncovered, and promptly lost the desire to chew Hannah out. "Bloody hell, what happened here?" he asked. "Hold on, this is where Wade Wilson went loony, isn't it?"

The senior class's trial on the island was swiftly approaching the realm of magical realism. Ask the man on the street if it was possible for a mentally ill man to flawlessly kill a full group of five sane people, given a randomization of weapons, and you would get 'maybe'. This answer, however, is one tainted by various slasher and psychological horror films; the real answer is, "No. Of course not." And yet it happened, unless Danya had flat out lied on the announcements; highly unlikely, from what he saw of V1.

Whatever happened to the laws of probability, or physics, for that matter?

-----

[font=Courier]Sound and Fury Revisits Survival of the Fittest

Previously on Sound and Fury, I reviewed the disturbing cultural phenomenon of Survival of the Fittest, a television programme broadcast on all channels for ten days in late June. Initially I was sceptical of the programme's realism, noting several instances which could have been nicked verbatim from various slasher films in terms of creativity, unlikelihood, and sheer gratuitous amounts of gore and titties. I also noted that deaths were the main focus, with characterisation as an afterthought, and concluded that the programme was written by a large team of writers of varying levels of talents who seemed to be in tenuous contact with each other at best.

However, recent events have led me to rethink this perspective, specifically the fact that Adam Dodd now attends my school. Yes, Adam Dodd, the survivor of the first series of Survival of the Fittest and the character that I felt easily stole the show, is flesh and blood, and a member of my senior class.

First impressions went rather poorly. I caught sight of him after the rumours had spread to my ear, and after I spilled by milk down the front of my shirt in shock, I moved closer to him, in order to get a better look. He was not amused, and promptly asked, "What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a Canadian before?"

That was the same voice I'd heard so often on the telly. "Dodd?" I asked.

He sighed and nodded his head. "Want an autograph?" he replied.

I had to excuse myself, as I felt faint and didn't believe I could carry on the conversation. Nevertheless, I'd seen all the information I needed. His appearance was somewhat altered by the years after his ordeal; he barely shaved, he looked thinner and more fit, and he ultimately gave the impression of a teenager who had recently been released from juvenile detention. The most telling mark of all was his left ear, which turned out to be nonfunctional upon closer inspection. This is a result of having his real left ear blown off by terrorist Angelina Kaige during the programme; the ear I saw must have been a surgical reconstruction.

Now I admit to being conflicted. The events I saw on the telly couldn't possibly have occurred in the real world, and yet here at my school stands a man who will vehemently argue in defense of the truth of the events he endured two years ago. I don't know what the answer is, but I intend to find out, starting with watching the second series of Survival of the Fittest. Hopefully I'll have more to go on by the time I update next.

Yours Sincerely,
The Late Arthur Aldridge.[/font]

Hannah looked up as she heard a familiar voice, spotting Southridge's mean brit approaching. Oh, good... She thought. Quincy was probably the last SADD member she wanted to be alone with, but it was better than being alone if (or when, she was sure) they were approached by another "kill everything that moves" style player. And if Quincy was here, that meant Warren, James and Morgan couldn't be too far behind, right?

Picking herself up and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she watched as he closed in on her. She had no idea what a 'berk' was, but she was sure it wasn't good. "Sorry..." That was all she could really think to say. Then Quincy's attention turned to the dead bodies in the water. "Wade? He did all this?" She remembered Danya talking about him going out and killing five people at once. She was tempted to write it off as just Danya screwing with their heads, but it looked like it really happened after all. "He was such a nice guy..." She was forced once again to marvel at how easily the ACT turned otherwise 'nice guys' into bloodthirsty monsters.

Finally deciding that she had enough of looking at corpses for the moment, she turned back to Quincy. "Where are the others? Didn't they follow after?"

((Warren Pace continued from The Science of Selling Yourself))

"Well," Quincy replied, "Warren is still at the chapel, paying his last respects to the man with the hole in his neck. Oh, here he is now."

Warren dejectedly plodded from the brush and joined Quincy and Hannah by the edge of the lagoon. "I could have told you he wouldn't make it," Quincy told him, receiving the bird from Warren in response.

"Anyway, I don't know what others you're talking about," he continued.

"Morgan and James were at the chapel, too," Warren mumbled.

"Really? I didn't realize they were a part of S.A.D.D.. Regardless, our priority should be locating the other members of our group. They have been gone for a day now, and we'd have a much better chance of escaping with their help. Any ideas on where to look?"

((Mark Continued from Sound and Fury))

Mark finally came to a clearing on the far side of the lagoon. This jungle was starting to get to him. Each confused journey seemed to take far too long and Johnny and him weren't talking like they used to. Maybe the screams and sounds echoing out around them cut short their need to socialize. He turned back with with a clever grin pursing his lips.

But his face fell flat. Johnny was gone. And Mark was alone again.

His dad and he were at the park again, like they did every few weekends. He was thirteen, but never too old to go out with his father. They would talk about his mother, where she could be and they could be, general things about the world and the past. They would go out no matter rain or shine, every third Satuday, just to spend the day outside and away from all the nights they just spent crouched over the chess board.

Today was only a little different. They talked about the bigger picture, about how things fit together and planned things out like chess moves. The sun was dimming as they headed back to the vehicle. His father just wouldn't get to the point! "What is it, Dad?" he pleaded, with the fading rays of light warming his eyelids. He just stood for a moment, his dad babbling as he walked forward across the street. The skidding of a car was the first thing to get Mark's attention back, his eyes shimmering forward to see the red car plummet into his father and dragging him through the red light traffic, the collisions beginning to pile up and the screech of breaks all around.

He was alone, eyes wide as the engine smoke rose from the busy street.

He couldn't help but let his demeanor fall, but only for the briefest second. His pained expression and weak knees were quickly burried back into his graceful smile, standing tall again. I'll make you proud, Dad.

Mark turned to greet the three by the water, his mind buzzing with a memory he just couldn't grasp. Like he recognized one of them.

((Jordan Redfield continued from The Taste of Blood))

Jordan Redfield hated the rain. Back in the Highland Beach, he was accustomed to sunny weather, and when the rain was falling, he was sitting with Josh at their apartment and couldn't care less about it. Now, he was forced to get along with it, during his journey. As he could remember, it started to fall right before he met Mortimer Jones - first person he encountered on this island. The rain was also accompanying him, when he killed Julia in self defense, and when he talked with Priestly twins. Even when... no wait, that was all. Jordan couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe, that within eight days, he met only four peoples. FOUR. That's even less than this wacko Wilson killed in one strike...

Not that lack of encounters was something bad. Jordan was quite happy with it. After all, the less people, he will meet, the less chance, he will cross the path with some some crazy player like Bobby Jacks. His plan was to survive. So far, so good, mostly because he didn't met too many students. But, there was one main problem with his survival, that Jordan had to solve: His arsenal. Hunting knife, and scimitar were definitely good close combat weapons, but... they were for close combat. If Lenny felt like it, he could have killed Jordan with ease, just because he would shot him, before Jordan would answer with anything. Jordan was in serious need for a gun... When he thought about it, he considered several options:

a. Steal the gun from someone.
b. Find it, near some corpses.
c. Backstab someone with his knife, and take the gun.
d. Kill someone in brutal way, to win BKA award.

Since point b was highly unlikely, it went out pretty fast. Points c and d involved killing another students, so they were also rejected (Jordan barely managed to reconcile with Julia's death by now, and he wasn't eager to kill again). And so, point a officially became his plan number 1.

Another problem arose: to steal a gun, he must either use his sneaking, or social skills. Since his sneaking skills could be compared, to those of a pink elephant, he was forced to make some contacts with others. Although Jordan was recognized as a friendly guy, those with good memory, could also recognize him as a Julia's killer. But since Jordan really had no other choice, he had to take the risk.

After whole day of almost mindless wandering through the jungle, he finally found a place, that was on the map. Ironically that was the Lagoon. Again. The place, when he met Mortimer, where his real adventure on the island begun. Jordan quickly spotted three students. He easily recognized football team member Warren Pace, and slightly weird English kid Quincy Archer. After quick brainstorm, he also identified the girl. Her name was Hannah. The surname? This one he forgot. He remembered Hannah mostly because of her weird beret, she was wearing. No idea why, but that wasn't the case. Jordan didn't heard any of their names during announcements, so he safely presumed, that none of them were a player.

Right. No real danger, as long as they wont try to take me out, for accident with Julia. Let's hope, they don't remember every kill on the island. At best, I will make some temporary alliance, and hopefully get a gun. At worst, I will know their weapons, when they will point it at me... You can do this diplomatic way... Let's go for it...

With those few words of self-assurance, Jordan stepped out of his hideout in the jungle, and made few careful steps toward the group. Right, when he was about to tell some typical greetings like 'hi! I'm not playing' etc. another boy emerged from the other side of the jungle. This time, Jordan had no idea, who he was...

And so, I just doubled quantity of peoples I met here... Great... Just great...

Just then, Warren arrived on the scene, and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. But where were Morgan and James? Weren't they SADD members, too? Well, it took a bit for Warren to get here behind Quincy, so maybe they're on their way, too. Though the way Warren had mentioned them, he sounded like they hadn't followed them.

"Neil said he was going to find out what happened to Matt and Dominica, right? And they went to pick up their BKA weapons. Maybe we should head there first." Hannah said as Quincy brought up finding Neil and the others, unaware that the hospital, the drop-off point for the BKA weapons, had become a dangerzone.

Just then, Hannah noticed a rustling off in the brush. She hoped that it was Morgan and James, but by now she knew that it could very well be a player come to shoot them all down. "There's somebody out there." She said quickly, backing up behind Warren.

Unfortunately it wasn't Morgan and James. Instead, who else would show up but...some guy. Hannah didn't remember him from the barracks shootout. Things had gotten too hectic, too quickly for her to have noticed him. And just then, Some Guy was quickly joined by Some Other Guy. Well, actually, Hannah recognized this one. Jordan Redfield, Southridge's resident ladies' (best friend) man. It must really suck, not being able to get a girlfriend because they all see you as "just a friend." Not that she had any feelings for him, but she still couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

But he wasn't the same as he was back in Southridge. And neither was she. And neither was Quincy, or Warren, or Neil, or Bobby, or Wade, or that guy who shot at her at the church. She couldn't afford to trust people based on past experiences any more. It would be sure to cost her her life.

"Hold on," Quincy told Hannah. "Just because the announcements are on the fritz doesn't mean the danger zone reassignments aren't. We should be prepared to leg it if we enter the area and our collars start beeping."

"Uh, Quincy," Warren said, and pointed towards the two new arrivals.

Quincy looked in their direction and frowned, raising his sword at both of them. "Right. I'm going to ask you blokes three questions and you're going to give me three answers. Three questions, three answers. If you don't answer these questions, you can't stay here with us.

"One: Who are you and what're you doing here?
"Two: What're you armed with?
"Three: Have you seen Neil Sinclair, Matthew Wittany, or Dominica Shapiro?"

((Ok... Since questions are going to both Mark and Jordan, I suppose, there is no matter, who will respond first. Sorry to everyone if breaking the post order disturbs you))

After the first reaction of the group, Jordan quickly concluded, that the Englishman was some sort of a leader... Well, Quincy's Ida sword pointed right into the Jordan's chest, was even bigger argument supporting his theory...

On the plus side, Jordan was now pretty certain, of the very important thing: Nobody had a gun here. Or, they were hiding it, but that was pretty doubtful. After all, any kind of pistol was still more threatening than a sword.

You missed this time Jordan. Time to retreat and...

"Right. I'm going to ask you blokes three questions and you're going to give me three answers. Three questions, three answers. If you don't answer these questions, you can't stay here with us." Said Quincy. Not that Jordan wanted to stay with them, but if he already came out, and showed himself, answering their questions was fair enough.

"One: Who are you and what're you doing here?'
Two: What're you armed with?
Three: Have you seen Neil Sinclair, Matthew Wittany, or Dominica Shapiro?"

Whoa, wait a second. Neil Sinclair? The leader of this group SADD, who was destroying cameras around the island?

Jordan was paying close attention to all announcements, and so he knew, that Neil, Matt and Dominica were the trio that killed Blood Boy. AND they won BKA award. BKA award meant guns, so if those three were part of the SADD... then maybe, just maybe he should stay with them. Anyway, Jordan needed a confirmation. After all, no one guaranteed that, they're looking for them, 'only' to kill them all.

Jordan turned to the other boy, that emerged from the jungle. "So... I'll start, ok?" he asked.

He gave a 'don't worry, nothing is gonna happen' look to Quincy, when he took his knife and scimitar from his pack.

"So... The name is Jordan Redfield. I was wandering through the jungle, since yesterday. I admit, I lost myself. This encounter is pretty random."

He took a deep breath before he continued

"As you can see, I have only this knife and sword. Don't worry, I'm not gonna use them". He quickly hid both weapons back to his pack, and threw it to the ground, to show them, that he isn't planning anything.

"As for the third question. No. No I didn't met them, in those last 8 days. You are a SADD members, aren't you?"

Mark kept up his grin as the one with the funny accent spoke. He tried to remember them from school, tried to think back, but his head was feeling fuzzy from all of this. First that body... ugh. Mark didn't want to think about the past. The present was what mattered. He had to move the pieces in front of him.

I'm pretty sure they were with S.A.D.D. back at that little fort thing... Whatever. They're just pawns. They're just in my way. Mark never broke his smile, never faultered as he mapped out the distances and information. A bunch of close ranged weapons is what it looked like. They couldn't get him if he ra-

What am I doing? He stopped himself. I can't start thinking like that, can't give in. They're just like me, just students. I can't go dehumanizing them or making things worse. No matter what, I just need to... to...

survive...


"So... I'll start, ok?" the other boy asked. Mark gave him a small flourish while inside he tried to rein in each thought and plan, coral his mind back to the task at hand. I can't do this, I can't start going crazy and killing anyone! I have to group up, like they did, like I should have with Johnny... His smile never failed to retain its gleam, almost ominously present, yet somehow reassuring. It almost seemed to make him look clueless and scared.

As the other boys finished he quickly started up his own side, thinking now of ways to tie himself with this group and give himself his own pawns... No, just friends. "I'm Mark, Mark Tavarian. Also lost." He tried to put a confused spin in his voice, but it wasn't too hard. He was already confused about where these malicious thoughts were coming from. His grin became sheepish as he pulled the pills from his pocket slowly. "I guess I got these as my weapon... And I haven't seen any of S.A.D.D. since you guys were all together over at those Barracks. I'm..." Divide and Conquer... "I'm interesting in joining S.A.D.D. myself. How could I do that?"

"You can join us in our search and not try anything funny, or else I'll open you up like a Christmas present," Quincy replied to Mark without missing a beat. As he stated the second condition, he pointed his outstretched sword at Mark. Was he perhaps a bit too eager to join their little club? He'd deal with it later.

"What about you?" he asked Jordan. "I realize the odds are against us, but do you really think you'll be any better off on your own, wandering around the island confessing sordid truths to whatever friendly faces you meet in the next few days until inevitably your luck runs out and you get shot or stabbed or drowned or choked? Or maybe you'll be the one 'lucky' winner, the man who watches as one by one, his friends drop dead, and eventually finishes off the last man himself. Congratulations! You win a lifetime supply of nightmares, guilt, and shame! At least with us, you have the option of keeping some friends, and pride in outsmarting our captor."

As he finished his little speech, a frowning Warren tapped him on the shoulder. "Can we talk alone?" he asked.

"Yeah, hold on," Quincy said.

The two of them walked several feet away until Warren began whispering fiercely. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, William Wallace! You don't care about his life and you know it, so why are you offering a S.A.D.D. spot for him?"

Quincy shook his head in exasperation. "Because we need manpower to succeed in our mission, Warren," he replied in a thick, condescending voice. "Do try to keep up with the rest of the class, will you?"

Warren glared at Quincy. He knew damn well that when Quincy said manpower, he meant meat-shields. The more people who could be attacked instead of him, the better. Warren would stop it, but as he hated to admit, Quincy was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. He couldn't very well stop him. He sighed and walked back to the group, followed by Quincy.

"You heard the man," he said to Jordan, doing his best to hide the frustration in his voice. "What do you say?"

Hannah stood back as Quincy took charge of the situation. She didn't really like it, but Quincy was the only one among the three of them who was leader material. As he interrogated the newcomers, she took stock of what their weapons, and then was taken aback by Mark's sudden request to join SADD, and by the fact that he was apparently there to witness the standoff between SADD and Jacks at the barracks.

Soon, Warren pulled Quincy aside to have a few words with him, leaving Hannah standing there by herself, until a few awkward moments later she followed after, listening in on the conversation. What she heard confirmed why she felt so uncomfortable with Quincy as the interim leader of SADD. He was too practical. Hannah could tell that Neil cared about each and every single member of his group, but Quincy? To Quincy, they were all probably just pawns to be played, and sacrificed when needed.

I hope we find Neil soon. She thought as the discussion between Quincy and Warren ended, and before Quincy could call to the others, she managed to add. "We should be careful about recruiting more members. If we're too cavalier about it, we might wind up recruiting a player who's trying to get more kills by hiding in a group." For some reason, Dominica came to mind as soon as she said that? But why? Well, she DID have a higher kill count then the other senior members of SADD. She quickly shook the thought from her mind and turned back to Jordan and Mark to hear their responses.

Quincy's speech was very good, Jordan had to admit it. But, as many good speeches before, this one also had a big amount of falsehood. Especially that part about outsmarting Danya. There was no way to do it, Jordan knew it, and (probably) so do Quincy. After all, how to trick a guy, who is watching your every step, and can react with pushing 'Instant Kill' button, if things would have started going out of control? Jordan agreed with Quincy only in one point: odds were against them. Presumably every player on the island had Neil Sinclair standing at the top of his hunting list... Not to mention friends of students, killed by Danya for destroying cameras...

Moment later, Warren stepped in, and asked Quincy for a quick conversation. Jordan took his time to gather his mind, and think about eventual answer for Quincy. Did he wanted to stay with them? Definitely not. Odd thing, for a friendly guy like him, but according to his theory of survival, the big groups were dangerous. With him, there would be 5 peoples (6 including Mark, another potential SADD member), armed with a sword/knife at best. And that would be perfect free target practice for some maniac with the gun. On the other hand, if they would actually find Neil, Matt and Dominica, he could finally obtain a gun and run away, under the cover of the night. Besides, it would be good, to actually talk with others, without the fear of death hidden behind every word...

His stream of thoughts was soon interrupted by Warren. "You heard the man. What do you say?" he asked.

For a split second, Jordan could feel some frustration in his voice. But that wasn't the point... He spent the next few seconds to consider his options once again, while Hannah made a comment about being careful with inviting new members. Finally, he said:

"Fine. You have a point. You can believe this or not, but during the last 8 days, I met only 4 peoples except from you. And to tell you the truth, I'm really sick of it. I'm sick of talking only to myself, all the time. I'm sick of walking through the jungle without any purpose. And I'm sick of this GODDAMN RAIN! So yeah, you can count me in. I will happily join SADD, if the next thing we will do, will be finding some shelter. And Neil"

Ironically, it was a lie. Well, except that part about rain. That was one fucking hundred per cent truth...

Mark tried to pass off a relieved face, but wasn't really sure how it came out. "Good. It'll be nice to be around other people who aren't pointing guns at each other." He let his shoulders relax a bit, but he couldn't help feel the need to look behind him. He glimpsed for a second, cursing himself for even thinking of letting down his guard, but his curiosity was satisfied. No crazies sneaking up from behind. But what about the crazies in front? Or inside...

Mark moved forward a bit closer to the group and looked behind him again. "This whole game is getting me paranoid." He shook out his body a bit, like a shiver, causing the excess water to fall from him so more rain could just pile back on.

"What about you guys? What names and weapons were you given? I've probably seen you in school, but my memory's always been kinda poor." He hoped none of them would be able to tell he lied. He wouldn't have noticed if they sat right next to him for a year. People weren't that important.

"Hannah Rose has a baton," Quincy told Mark, "and Warren Pace here has a Colt Python, one of the best guns in the world, if you ask me."

"Get your own, Quincy!" Warren said. He nervously covered a bulge in his pants pocket with both hands.

"Oh, eat shit, Warren," Quincy snapped. "Me, I'm Quincy Archer. I have a pair of boxing gloves and Blood Boy's old sword." He did his best attempt at a flourish, which wasn't quite as impressive as he imagined it in his head. "It's not much, but as long as we stay alert, we won't do too poorly."

Neither Warren nor Quincy was too enthusiastic about the two potential recruits. Hearing Hannah's cautious warning about being inclusive brought to Quincy's mind his earlier annoyance at Neil's tendency to play Pollyanna, culminating in that fucking retarded chanting exercise at the barracks. Neil had managed to get more done than any previous student besides Jack O'Connor, but Christ he could be stupid sometimes.

"Alright, as Hannah suggested before you guys showed up, we're going to the hospital, where the others were supposed to pick up their new weapons. There's a virus that's been going through the enemy's systems, which is why the announcements haven't come on today, but that means that if the danger zones are still working, then they might have switched and we won't know their position. So if you hear your collar beeping, get back in the jungle immediately! Anyone need to do anything before we move out? Stretch your legs, ready your weapons, take a piss?"