Survival Of The Fittest

Darkness.

All around her, Heather Tilmitt could see nothing but darkness enshrouding unknown figures in the distance. Never in her entire life had she seen it so completely dark outside, with the only light shining down being that of the flickering stars overhead. Perhaps that was because when you lived in the city, you couldn't see the stars, and street lights lit up the roads even at night. Some people might have found it peaceful, but Heather only found it eerie, like the way you feel when you're walking down a dark alley in a bad neighborhood late at night. Her muscles were tense, and every little gust of wind had her wheeling around with her designated MP5K pointed dead ahead. She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking through the darkness, but a stinging pain incessantly shot down her sides, telling her it had been quite a while.

The past few hours of her life had been nothing less than horrifying, but someone like Heather Tilmitt couldn't quite grasp the situation she was suddenly presented with. Just a few hours ago, they had all been on the bus. She had opted to sit in the back along with Lance and some of the other delinquents of the school. Heather had smuggled some pills and a bit of alcohol into her overnight bag, but she'd made sure not to tell Lance about it. He'd just complain anyway. She didn't see the big deal about it, but ever since she had gotten pregnant, Lance had started to make a big deal about everything she did. They'd entered a tunnel on the way to the campgrounds they were attending, and the next thing Heather knew, they were in a room. Everything from that moment onward was a haze. The teachers were dead, they were told they had to kill one another...

And now she was here.

Ahead of her, the silhouette of a small building began to come into focus. Heather squinted her eyes in an attempt to identify the building in front of her. She moved closer slowly, the general fear of another contestant being in the area preventing her from rushing into the shelter. Her grip tightened on the MP5K as she looked at the building, and immediately, a sudden urge overcame her. Heather leaned forward, momentarily dropping the weapon she was clutching in her hands, and jolted sharply to the right before bracing her hands on her knees and expelling the bile that had suddenly risen up in her throat. She coughed and sputtered for a moment before wiping the tears from her eyes and reaching down to once again pick up the gun. She wasn't sure if her nerves were getting the best of her or if she was just suffering typical morning sickness, but either way, it was a horrible feeling.

"Stupid baby..." she muttered as she straightened upright once again and ran her arm across her mouth to wipe away any traces of bile that remained.

She hadn't been awake for very long at all, and judging by the fact that it was still dark outside, most of the other contestants were probably just waking up as well or still being deposited on the island -- at least, that's what she figured. That meant that it was pretty unlikely that her classmates were up and moving around, so somehow, it seemed pretty logical to assume that the building she saw in front of her was probably empty, unless the terrorists had actually taken the time to get off the helicopter they'd deposited everyone on and hoist somebody into the clinic itself, and that seemed pretty unlikely. Still, it was probably a good idea not to make a lot of noise, just in case...

The door to the clinic opened with a loud squeal, and immediately, the dust that assaulted Heather's nose from the old and worn out building caused her to burst into a fit of coughing. She wheezed to gain her breath before her coughing finally came to a halt. The building was so dark she could barely see her hand in front of her face. The sole provider of light in the room was one small curtainless window that let the moonlight shine through and illuminiated a few feet the old wooden floor. A light sigh escaped the brunette's lips and she began rummaging through the designated daypack she had slung around her arm earlier. Finally, she found the object she sought -- a flashlight. It occurred to Heather that using it probably wasn't a good idea seeing as it could alert some of the other contestants, but she really had no other choice.

The large flashlight she had been issued illuminate the room quite adequately, and in the dim light she could finally see her surroundings. It vaguely resembled some sort of reception area, with a few old chair lining the walls and sitting back to back in the middle of the room, a table with an old lamp sitting on it, and a table harboring a stack of magazines that were so old and ill-kept that the ink on them was hardly even legible. There was a small open area in the front of the room that was probably where the receptionist used to sit, and there were doors on either side of the tiny lobby. Heather kept one hand on her gun, preparing to ready it should the need arise, and entered the door on the left-hand side. She peered in slowly, using her flashlight to illuminate the room. The room was almost completely vacant, with no windows. There was nothing inside except what looked like an old examination table and rows upon rows of cabinets.

Maybe this would be a good place to stay. Nobody could see me, and I could use one of the chairs from the lobby to barricade the door in case anybody came in here... but... if they break down the barricade, I'm a sitting duck. Or maybe it's a sitting whale. One thing's for sure, I couldn't get outta this place. I'm way too huge. It's all because of this stupid, stupid baby. It's ruining my whole life, and now it's gonna kill me! Unless...

A grotesque smile spread across Heather's features. Something had clicked in the back of her mind, and all of a sudden, she knew exactly what she had to do. She had heard all about this game, and their whole class had heard it straight from Mr. Danya's mouth. Only the fit survive, and in her current state, Heather was anything except fit. The enormous bulge in her belly prevented her from doing much of anything except hobbling around and throwing up every few minutes. As long as she was pregnant, she was as good as dead... but... but if she wasn't pregnant anymore, maybe, just maybe she had a shot at surviving the game. Heather wasn't quite sure how this would work, she'd never been pregnant before, after all, and she'd definitely never attempted what she was about to do.

She slid her pack down onto the ground beside the examination table and placed the MP5K on the countertop nearby. Now, how was she supposed to do this? All of a sudden, the lightbulb in her mind flashed on and Heather remembered seeing that old lamp sitting in the lobby. It didn't look all that heavy, but it looked like it was made out of something pretty durable. It could probably withstand a lot of punishment. It was simply perfect. Heather re-entered the lobby slowly and shined her light around once more to ensure that she hadn't been greeted by any unwanted visitors since she entered the examination room. Fortunately for her, the coast was clear.

Heather moved slowly over to the lamp, the old wooden floors creaking lightly with every step that she took, and grabbed the object from the table it was sitting on. It took a good yank to pull the cord loose from the unidentified plug-in it had been attached to, and Heather nearly fell backward as the cord came out of the wall but somehow managed to remain on her feet, stumbling back a few steps to regain her balance. Heather sighed loudly as she hoisted the lamp up and carried it back into the examination room. She placed it on the floor for just a moment before positioning her flashlight on top of the counter where it illuminated the completely windowless room. Now, she could see what she was doing. She moved back to the door and closed it, searching for a lock but, much to her disappointment, finding none.

It didn't matter all that much anyway. Hopefully, this wouldn't take too long, and she could be on her merry way. Heather grabbed ahold of the lamp once more before taking a seat on the examination table and sitting the blunt object beside her. She wondered momentarily if this would hurt at all. She was sure the bludgeoning part would be painful, but Heather had dealt with pain before. What would happen after? She decided it didn't really matter what happened after. Anything was better than having this god awful thing inside of her any longer, making her fat, making her sick, sucking away all of her life energy. She was going to die if the baby lived, so what did she care if it died so that she could survive? To Heather, this was completely logical. She took a deep breath and laid down on the examination table, relaxing her body for a moment and resting the lamp gently on her stomach.

"Listen, baby..." she whispered with contempt, "Or Abbi, or whatever the fuck your name is supposed to be. This is how it's gonna be. It's either you or me, and it's not gonna be me... so you... you have to go now. I don't want you and I'm tired of you. You've been ruining my life for the past six months, and I just can't take it anymore. It's time for you to go back to whatever festering pool of sewage you crawled out of... because... I'm not gonna die here because of you, understand? So, this is where we say our goodbyes and part ways. Bye bye, baby."

With that, Heather raised the lamp high above her stomach and slammed it back down into it. The resulting pain caused Heather to let out a primal scream, and she fought back the tears that rushed from her eyes. It was probably the most painful thing she had ever experienced... but she wasn't done yet. She couldn't stop until she was sure that that awful creature was dead and gone. Her hands shook violently from the torrents of pain that coursed through her body, but Heather forced herself to raise the lamp up once again and slam it back down into her stomach. She let out another anguished scream and stopped for a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"No..." she choked out in pain, "No, no, no... can't stop. Won't stop."

Once again, the lamp went up, and once again, it came down on her stomach. Over and over she repeated the process, and each time, the unadulterated pain coursing through her entire body made it harder and harder to continue, but she made herself. If she could have seen below her stomach, she'd have known that her entire lower torso was covered in her own blood and it was starting to seep through her jeans and out onto the examination table she was laying on. She could barely breathe in between the choked sobs and pained gasps that she emitted every time the lamp came down, but she forced herself to go on. She had never felt such ungodly pain in her entire life.

"Don't... stop..." she found herself whispering at first, but each time the lamp came down onto her stomach, the whisper got louder and louder until she was screaming at the top of her lungs, "Don't... STOP! NO! Don't... STOP!"

---

Where are you? C'mon, I know you're out here somewhere... I've gotta find you before somebody else does. I've gotta keep you safe, Heather. For me. For the baby.

Lance Barrett could barely breathe from the sheer amount of running he had done since he'd woken up roughly thirty minutes ago. He had barely even gone through the standard issued daypack that Danya had given each of them, and he'd only had time to find his designated weapon -- a keyhole saw, it said, although it just looked like a funny knife to Lance -- before taking off in a full-on sprint across the island. Heather was on the island somewhere, and if she was here, that meant that Abbi was in danger. He had to protect Abbi, at any cost to himself. Everything he had done over the past six months had been for that baby. She was his whole world -- his reason for living. As disgusted as he was that Danya could draft a pregnant girl onto the island in the first place, Heather and Abbi's safety was first and foremost on his mind.

He had run through a few areas now, clumsily fumbling around in the dark, and he had seen a few other classmates, although he'd attempted to stay hidden as much as possible to avoid confrontation with any of them. Right now, his sole focus was on finding Heather, and come hell or high water, that's what he was going to do, and he was going to protect that baby right up until the very end of the program. She didn't deserve something as horrible as this. She hadn't done anything to anyone, she hadn't even been born yet, and although he could only smirk somewhat at the fact that Heather probably deserved to be here, that only meant that Abbi would suffer too, and no matter what, he simply couldn't let that happen.

Up ahead of him, another building came into view. Lance slowed his pace to a jog, and finally to a slow walk, as he approached the small building. It didn't look to be very large on the inside, and the only view of the interior of the building came in the form of one small window on the side. Warily, Lance approached the building, clutching his keyhole saw tightly in his hand, and peered into the window. Nothing. No maniacal killer with a chainsaw, no crazy alien ready to rip his flesh from his body. Simply darkness. Maybe that was the scariest thing of all. He could vaguely make out what looked like it might have been a door on one side, and so reluctantly, he headed up to the front of the building and quietly twisted the doorknob. The creaking noise it made as it opened startled him, but not nearly as much as the rythmical thumping noise he could hear from somewhere in the building.

"No! No! Don't! Stop!"

The blood drained from Lance's face and he found himself unable to breathe for a moment. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't blink. He knew that voice all too well, and suddenly, an unimaginable sort of fear swept over his entire body, not for himself, but for fear of what he would find on the other side of the door. It took him almost a full minute before he once again found the power to move his legs, and although his entire body felt as though it were made of stone, he forced himself across the lobby of the hospital and to the closed wooden door where the screaming was come from. With a swift kick, Lance kicked the door wide open, almost knocking it completely off the hinges in the process. What he witnessed in the next moment would cause him to come to a complete standstill, his body shaking violently.

"H-Heather...?" Lance gasped out almost inaudibly.

The vase that Heather had been pounding into her stomach clattered to the ground with a loud bang, and she turned her head to look at Lance feebly. She attempted to sit up all the way, but her body only slumped back down into its half-upright position on the examination table. When her eyes came into contact with Lance's figure, she relaxed noticably, but immediately thereafter tensed up again. Lance Barrett had barely crossed her mind since she'd woken up on the island. Instead, she had been far more concerned about herself and making it out of the game alive. Seeing him now with some sort of blade in his hand made her nervous. The dumbfounded and stunned look on his face only furthered her concern, and after a moment, he finally seemed to find his voice.

"Heather... what are you doing... what did you do?"

"I solved a problem," Heather muttered half inaudibly.

"What'd you do...?" he inquired once again, this time, moving closer into the room.

Heather forced herself up on the examination table and wheezed lightly before putting her hands on her sore and bruised up stomach. She coughed loudly and then turned to look at Lance. He stared at her in horror, still trying to take in the whole bloody scene, and she simply shrugged her shoulders and laughed quietly. Heather's laugh made something snap within Lance. She sat there, laughing, like she didn't have a care in the world... like everything was going to be okay... and meanwhile, all Lance could see was the pool of blood that she was lying in, but he didn't see Heather's blood. He saw Abbi's. He had always been afraid that Heather's partying and recklessness would endanger Abbi's life, but never in his wildest dreams did he think that Heather herself would be capable of maiming and injuring, if not outright killing, his little girl.

One second later, Lance's wrist was planted firmly around Heather's throat, and he pushed her head back into the table as he brought the saw up to her throat. For what might have been the first time in her life, Heather was truly horrified. Lance's face was only a few inches from her own, and the savage look in his eyes was completely bonechilling. It was like he was running on autopilot, like no one was even home upstairs... like he had completely snapped. Heather found tears rolling down her eyes, both from the pain of the injuries she had inflicted upon herself and from the sheer horror of Lance forcefully grabbing her and shoving the saw up to her neck.

"You're trying to take her away from me, aren't you?" Lance screamed into her face, particles of spit flying up in her face in the process, "You're trying to take away the one god damn thing I have left!"

"B-but..." Heather stuttered out all of a sudden, "Don't you get it? There's no way I would've made it outta here alive if I'd have kept that... thing! I couldn't run the game like that Lance, I can't do anything except hobble around! Don't you understand that? I did it to save myself!"

"All you ever think about is yourself!" Lance screamed back, his hand tightening drastically around Heather's throat and leaving her gasping for breath, "Don't you think I'd have protected you? Don't you think I would've made sure you got out of here for Abbi?"

"You don't even care about me," Heather sputtered out, "All you cared about was that stupid fucking baby!"

"Why the hell would I care about you, Heather? You're a pathetic fucking person. You're selfish and inconsiderate and you're a fucking whore! The only reason I kept you around was for Abbi, and now she's hurt and it's all your fault! It's ALL your fault you stupid... fucking... bitch!"

Heather fell silent for a moment before turning her head up to Lance and smiling at him, "I hope she's dead."

The next thing Heather Tilmitt felt was a searing pain in her chest. Lance ripped the saw blade out of her chest and slammed his fist into her face, causing her to let out a loud yelp. He reared back again and with all his force shoved the oddly shaped object into her chest again. Her anguished screams only led him further into madness and he stabbed again and again, using his free hand to hold her down as she tried to struggle against his assault. He kept on stabbing until he couldn't see her chest anymore for the waves of crimson that were pouring from her wounds. She kept on screaming, and Lance hit her in the face once again to shut her up. He looked up at the bloody, writhing mess that used to be his girlfriend and gave her a wide, maniacal smile.

"You don't... have to worry about it anymore," Lance mused, his voice quivering, "I'm outta here... and I'm taking Abbi with me."

"Wha...?" the disoriented girl managed to utter before another anguished scream leapt from her lips.

Lance jammed the awkwardly shaped blade into the top of her stomach and began sawing away. Heather screamed in horrific pain and tried to use the last of her energy to push him away from her, but she was far too weak. Lance's free hand moved up to her face and covered it up and he continued sawing. It took nearly ten minutes before he finally managed to slit a decent sized hole in Heather's stomach. She had long since stopped screaming. In fact, she had completely stopped moving, but Lance didn't even realize that by now, she was dead. Instead, he simply slid his hands inside her stomach and pulled out the abnormally formed fetus that was lying inside. He cradled the bloody object lovingly in his arms for a moment before using the saw to slice the umbilical cord. He laid the fetus down for just a moment, long enough to grab one of Heather's extra shirts from her bag to wrap "Abbi" up inside.

Once he had the dead fetus safely in his arms, he looked at the bloody mass of flesh lying on the examination table and smirked.

"Serves you right, you fucking whore..." Lance muttered before once again looking down at the dead object cradled in his arms, "Shhh, Abbi. It's okay. We're okay now, we don't need her anymore."

Wiping the blood and flesh from the saw on Heather's pantleg, Lance tucked it away in his pocket before grabbing his pack and slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder. He held "Abbi" tightly against his chest as he headed toward the exit to the room. Outside, the sun was finally starting to peak over the horizon, and Lance couldn't help but smile to himself. Part of him had snapped completely even in the first hours of the game, and at this point, he barely even knew where he was anymore. And, he didn't care. He had Abbi, they were both safe, and to him, that was all that mattered. The rest would come later on, and all he had to do was keep Abbi safe until the end game. With a wide grin, Lance exited the lobby and walked outside the clinic slowly, feeling the warm summer breeze grazing his bloodied clothes and cheeks.

FEMALE STUDENT NO. 05 - HEATHER TILMITT - DECEASED

The now errie silence of the hospital echoed through her head. She slowly walked to the table. It was disgusting. Horrifying even. And yet... she couldn't help but smile that same delightful smile she always had. It wasn't her problem really. All it meant was one less meatshield for her to exploit. The iron chain swung lazily from where she held it firmly in her right hand. She raised it up slightly, and stared at it. Useless. Her eyes drifted over to the table beyond the carnage that was once Heater Timlett. Melina Frost's eyes shone and her smile widened considerably.

The gun was all hers...

Sure, she could easily have saved Heather's life from that idiot Lance. She had the perfect opertunity. After all, she'd been following him in the shadows since waking up on the island. And when he crashed through the hospital doors, she snuck in and watched the scene unfold from the background, waitimng for the opportunity to strike. But it never really came, and she really didn't care. Heather was dead. End of story. Boo-Hoo. It wans't her problem.

Melina leaned down slightly to look at Heather's badly bruised face.

"Well babe, I guess you're out of luck. Thanks a million for the gun though, Love ya for it." She said with a chckle. Melina quickly left the Heather's side and grabbed the MP5K. She noticed Heater's daypack was also on the ground. Picking it up, she began to leave the room. At the doorway, she turned slightly. A frown settled on her face.

"Sorry love. It's every gal for herself. You understand." With that said, Melina exited the room. She walked to the front door only to do a double take at the veiw on Lance's back. She jumped back inside and hoped he hadn't herd her. She smiled slightly, it was too easy.

Melina walked out the door, gun pointed at the foolheardy boy.

"Babe, you're in my way." BAM! She released a shot from the rifle at his stationary body, the recoil sending her on her ass in the process.

Paul Smith was calm and Paul Smith also looked different and it became apparent that as he walked through the brush with his knife in hand, he was slow, he was cautious and even more so his trademark pony tail and long hair and instead he found himself with shorter hair and a knife coated with tiny blonde hairs to go along with it. Really, he was not so naive to think that long hair in this situation was smart and instead with his hair out of his eyes and a pile of thick hair in a pony tail somewhere in the forest Paul headed towards the clinic.

He had come to a conclusion the moment he realized where exactly his class was heading, he wasn't going to play, but he wasn't going to sit around and be killed. After all this is Survival of the Fittest, not kill to your arts content of the fittest and the cyclops of a student continued to sneak towards the brush eventually coming across a bloodied and battered Lance. It seemed that two hundred dollars didn't do much for preventing the mechanics of the game, truth be told due to the nature of Lance's state and the fact that he was now cradling something (whether that be a wound or something entirely different was a mystery to Paul), he walked towards the boy, his knife outstretched and ready to react in case Lance was indeed psycho or something.

It was then he saw Melina come out and fire her gun, landing on her ass, Paul's eye widened as he came to the realization that a player. A game motivator as some would call it had just killed someone in his presence, randomly as well and not to mention without a word of dialogue, seriously she just walked up and shot him: it was almost inhuman. What was not inhuman was the brand named Paul Smith altruism that had activated, he didn't pay any mind to Lance, a gun shot at that range was a death shot and Paul knew and accepted this, instead he chose to take an opportunity now that he was still hidden.

Melina Frost, sprawled out on the floor with a gun easily available for the taking. Paul sprinted, shockingly fast, the same amount of speed he had displayed in the tournament, went towards Melina (there was no way she would notice him until it was to late) and brought his left hand towards the barrel of her rifle, he would then use his strength (as he had plenty compared to the girl) to move the rifle away and attain a full mount on the girl. With his free right hand he would waste no time in giving her a quick warning thrust to the elbow holding the rifle, disarming her for the time being.

Killing? It was something Paul was aware of, it was something he knew would come eventually, but as of right now? His main goal was to disable Melina and continue on his way. Killing may have been a harsh reality, but Paul wouldn't become acquainted with it until the time was right.

Silence.

Complete and total silence.

Under the circumstances, maybe Lance should have found the silence eerie and uncomfortable, but as he stood there, staring out at the overgrown foliage surrounding him, he couldn't help but feel relaxed. He held the bloodied fetus tightly in his arms and hummed quietly, simply taking in the sights and sounds of the island. This was his chance to start over with Abbi. This was their new home, and he was going to make the best of it, no matter what it took.

There was only one problem.

An entire island full of his classmates stood between himself and peace, and to obtain the peace that he so desired, he would be required to slaughter every one of those people in cold blood. Perhaps an hour ago, Lance would have been mortified at the thought of it. So much had happened in not even an hour though, and now, Lance felt as though he could do anything. He'd do anything he had to do for the baby.

The voice that rang out from behind him startled him, but before he even had time to turn around, the deafening noise of a gun rang out in his ears, and the next moment, everything faded to black. Lance Barrett's body, now almost completely missing its head from being shot at close range with a powerful gun, toppled to the front, the fetus falling limply a few feet away.

MALE STUDENT NO. 10 - LANCE BARRETT - DECEASED

Melina watched as Lance's head was blown apart by the powerful blast. It was sickening. Had she just done that? Had she just killed Lance? Holy shit. She murdured.... she killed him... but she was supposed to... it had to be. But it felt so wrong...

She didn't have long to dote on the subject for soon she was pounced upon and knocked out of her thoughts. She looked up to her attacker, only to find a mister Paul Smith, or, as she liked to call him Patches the Dumbass. Best to leave off the dumbass for now though. He hel her arm holding the gun down to the floor. He must not have noticed the lovely iron chain wrapped around her wrist. Perfect.

"Hey Patches. How's it going babe? What's up?" She smiled darkly. He attempted to stap the crook of her elbow. She yelled out and pulled her arm forcefully away, making the blade go a little ways into her forearm instead. She scramed in agony and swung her wrist up to meet with his head, hoping to knock him unconsious with the iron.

Melina had miraculously managed to wiggle her way out of the first stab, but she was completely and utterly mistaken if she thought the second best fighter of Southridge was going to be taken out by a simple wide arc fore-arm slap to the forehead, almost as quickly as he stabbed her forearm he withdrew his knife and executed his reaction to the attempt to dismount him: ducking. Ducking downward put more of his weight on Melina, most likely heavily bruising her chest. She was now open (due to the fact that one arm was pinned down and the other was now going over Paul's head. It was an opportunity and good fighter would take advantage of and Paul had all the intention of doing so.

With his right arm somewhere on Melina's left side he would quickly and efficiently stab at her left temple with his knife, he doubted the knife had the ability to pierce the skull, but that wasn't the point: the point was to shock and cause Melina to exude a large amount of blood causing her to abandon any hope of keeping hold of the MPK5, once she relinquished her grasp on it? Well, who knows what would happen then, but Paul would cross that bridge when the time came. Most importantly their dominant and submissive positioning made it nearly impossible for Melina to mount up an offense.

Paul's tactics would make something clear to the wannabe serial killer that is Melina: if she didn't know when to give up, the game would be over for her before it even had a chance to begin.

Melina's attack mised her target by a long shot her face turned sour when she realized it. Paul swiftly shoved the knfe to meet her own temple, and cut a little into the skin. She felt her eyes tear up. She couldn't die. Not here... not now! She had to get out!

"Paul stop! Please! I didn't want to kill him! He killed heateher! He ripped her baby out of her stomach! I was so mad! I was scared! Please!" She closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable. She only hoped he wuld belive her story.

Paul sighed as he withdrew his knife and picked up the MPK5 to walk away, if what Melina was saying was true than she had similar reasons for attacking Lance as he did for attacking her, if it wasn't? Well he was by far a more powerful and better armed fighter, even a stupid ho like Melina wasn't stupid enough to attack him. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette he smirked a bit as he newly acquired Gun pointing at Melina. The people in television land almost though Peri Barclay had returned to the island, instead though Paul shook his head.

"If your lying it won't do you much good, consider me a nice guy Melina, I'll let you go," he paused as he pointed the gun to her, " I see you again, I hear you killed on the announcement again, or you assist someone who killed someone on the announcements I will not hesitate to shoot you in the legs and physically remove your vocal chords so you never have a chance to lie again." Paul looked at her deathly serious before turning his back towards her.

"You've known me for a very long time Melina and knowing this you should also know that I don't lie and I don't bullshit people-especially when lives are at stake," he began to walk away, ready to pivot and shoot if she tried anything. He tried to repress his smile, surviving had just gotten a bit easier.

((Continued in Just a Mirage))

Melina let out a sigh of relief as Paul got off her. She rubbed at the sore spot on her chest and took a better look at her wounded arm. Not even a bad cut. She was overreacting. But still... he could have killed her. And now he had Heather's gun. And she had nothing again. How shitty. She stood quickly ad grabbed the two daypacks from the ground. Paul lectured her, and she shot him an icy glare. She stormed out of the building and past Lance's figure.

"Might as well relive you of this babe." She said as she removed the blossy saw from Lance's dead hand.

"Don't worry patches... I won't be seeing you again... It's a big island. You'll never know if the next time, I might be the one to kill you..." She smirked to herself and walked away, both pleased and angry at the outcome of her first island brawl.


((Continued in Perception is Everything))