Survival Of The Fittest

{{continued from The Stench of Reality}}

Damn this rain...

Laeil made her way across the sand, breathing hard as she kept an eye out for what she was here for.

That was a close one... She thought to herself, the incident that had occurred just a short while ago resurfacing in her mind. Not only had she failed to kill anyone at the chapel like she hoped, but she had been caught off guard by Will coming after her with a gun. With three other people in his way, he had went right past them to go after her.

And why not? Danya had just announced over the entire island that she'd be issued a brand new weapon here. She could imagine other students lurking at the fringes of the dangerzone, waiting for her to get her weapon so they could rush in and take it from her (and of course, eliminate another student from the competition.)

And then there was the other two winners. Lenny and...Harry, right? She took a quick look around to see if anyone was following her. Paranoia was starting to take its toll. She had no doubt that if she ran into one of them they would probably try to kill her and take her weapon as well. She doubted that she would put up that good of a fight, either. She was out of breath from running all the way here, trying to escape from Will. She didn't know if he had tried to follow her after she ran off; she didn't bother looking back as that would just slow her down. She considered dropping her pack to help her run faster, but she figured that it would offer some protection if Will had managed to get some shots off in her direction.

Her legs screamed at her to stop and rest for a moment, but she couldn't allow herself to. The sooner I get my weapon and get out of here, the bett...

She stopped as a crate came into view, with her name spray-painted right on the side. Finally... She went towards it, speeding up her pace until she reached it, dropping her duffel bag and jamming her sword under the lid to pry it open. Finally pulling the lid off, she looked inside to find...

"What the hell is this shit?" Inside the crate were eight bottles with rags stuck in the top, and filled with some kind of liquid. She picked one out of the crate and stared at it for a moment with a confused look on her face until a light bulb went off in her head. "Wait, these are molotov cocktails, right?" She dug through the crate, hoping to find a lighter or some matches among the contents (after all molotov cocktails are fairly useless without something to light them on fire), then sighed as she failed to find any. "Goddammit." What she had hoped would be her secret weapon against the other students turned out to be nothing but a big slap in the face.

"...wait a minute. There's all kinds of junk lying around the island. There's got to be a lighter or at least some matches somewhere." Re-encouraged, she opened up her duffel bag and pulled out some of her clothes, wrapping each bottle up in an article of clothing and setting them back in the bag.

"Right...now it time to go." She took another look around for anyone else before she slung the bag back over her shoulder. The bag was considerably heavier, but she would manage. "First I need to find someplace to get some rest, than it's back to work." A twisted smile appeared on her face as she set off. "There's people here that need to be punished, after all. And there are others who don't need to be punished, but they will anyway, because that's just the way life goes..."

{{continued elsewhere}}

((Lenny continued from The Continuing Story of Bungalow Reg))

Elizabeth stayed behind in the forest, away from the danger zone. Lenny didn't like the idea of leaving her alone, but it would only be temporary. He remembered when he and his sister were on this same shore earlier. There had been a bit of drama going on, as Lenny and his sister pretended to be helpful to a couple bandaging up some wounds. It seemed forever ago since that time.

Now Lenny was here, looking at the crates on the shore. One of them had already been opened, and Lenny looked around. He saw nobody else, but this would have been a great place to hide, and attack someone to get their prize weapon. Lenny saw his name spray painted in red on one of the crates and went up to it. He thought of going in the other students crate and taking his weapon as well. Though that would be cheating, and Danya already proved his point against cheaters.

Those kids smashing the cameras, they had no chance. Lenny wanted to have a chance. Wanted to give his sister a chance.

Opening the crate he saw a handgun with a lot of extra magazines lying around. Lenny knew about handguns from target shooting with his sister and father. His sister was a better show than him, but given the current situations, Lenny wouldn't let his sister have the gun. She didn't have the guts to pull the trigger when the situation came. Lenny did.

Picking up the Beretta Px4 Storm Pistol. It felt so good in his hands. Smiling, he tucked it in his jeans, and covered it with his shirt. He then went to work transferring the extra ammo to his pack. When he was done, he strolled back up the shore towards the jungle.

((Lenny Priestly continued at Nervous Solitude))

((continued from Dork of the Manatee))

Harry was the last to arrive at the shore. Given that there were to be two other players showing up, he wasn't sure what to expect. He doubted Danya would let any of them take what wasn't theirs, so he wasn't too worried that his prize would be missing. What had him a little more anxious was the prospect of either of the other two winners waiting for him nearby with their own prizes loaded and drawn. He kept a close eye on the screen of the GPS, which he'd fastened to a superfluous drawstring he'd removed from the daypack on his way to the drop point. Now it hung conveniently from his neck.

The GPS indicated that there wasn't a soul in the immediate area--at least not one wearing a collar--and Harry eased up as he spotted one lone crate a short ways away. Boy, did that simplify things. He hastened his approach toward the crate and opened it excitedly, smiling shiny diamonds as he set eyes on a nasty-looking firearm. He wasn't even sure how to classify the big mean motherfucker until he withdrew the accompanying 12-gauge boxes, and even then he had a hard time believing that it was a shotgun. But, there it was, printed right on the cover of the manual: "Pancor Jackhammer Automatic Shotgun."

Harry cast one last loathsome glance at the BB gun in his possession before tossing it carelessly into the sand. No need for that anymore. He wasted no time in stashing the ammunition in his daypack, along with the manual, and tucked the powerful weapon under his arm so he could get a look at the GPS. He needed to find a vacant spot where he could figure out how to use the Pancor, because at the moment he wasn't even fucking sure how to load it. Still, he was in a fantastic mood.

"I guess Courtney had a gun in her after all," he mused, heading off.

((continued in Rinse, Repeat))