Survival Of The Fittest

Reg Robson woke with a start in the grass nearby, staring up at the sky. It seemed to be early morning, being that Reg could feel the dew on the grass seeping through his shirt. Quietly sitting up, Reg took in his surroundings. He was surrounded by a lush forest, and about 30 yards to his right was an immense tree with a gaping hole in it.

Reg next noticed a pack with his name on it. Quickly shuffling through the contents, Reg found the issued book explaining just what was happening.

No way in hell am I ever going to play a game like this. Its inhuman.

Reg threw the book back in the bag with disgust and continued with his rummaging. His hand found what he assumed was issued weapon, a screwdriver. Flathead, about 6-7 inches of steel with a orange rubber grip handle.

"At least I can use this to access some areas might not get to." Reg mumbled to himself.

Reg lay back on the grass and stared the sky. He was surprised at how little effect the realization that he could die at any moment was having on him. It was way to surreal for the environmentalist.

After a few moments, Reg got up, picked up his pack and decided to check out the tree itself. It was a magnificent tree. Reg did a circle of it before checking out the hollowed out part. He noticed a lot of initials carved into the inside. After admiring the tree's inside for a moment or two, Reg did another walk around of the trunk. As he passed the right side of the tree again, a small breeze picked up, bringing an unfamiliar coppery scent to Reg's nostrils. Looking in the direction of the smell, Reg could see the grass and leaves were disturbed.

Sprinting over the the spot, Reg soon figured out what the coppery smell was. The corpse of a girl who's name escaped him, lay bleeding from the head, dead on the ground in front of him.

Now it was very real. All of the thoughts Reg had before about being okay with being on this island rushed out of him, and new thoughts of 'Its real.' and, 'Why are people killing each other?' filled his mind.

Stepping back slowly Reg tried to push the thoughts out of his head, but just couldn't. The boy who had been raised under the impression that every person was good in some way, was getting his wake up call.

A splendid time is guaranteed for all
And tonight Mr. Robson is topping the bill.

(B65: Start)

Dorian Ibanescu had been walking non-stop for over a day. His tired, aching muscles were finally starting to burn, which was a sure sign that he needed to take a rest somewhere. He had incidentally slept through day one and the majority of day two, having woken up during the class's second night on the island. The majority of his trek was spent pondering the reality of his situation, and grieving the deaths of many of his fallen classmates. The shock of the situation still hasn't escaped him; this was by far the most traumatizing event Dorian had ever experienced in his life.

"How can they actually do that to each other...in cold blood? A few days ago, we were all getting excited and packing our stuff onto a bus, and now we're all killing each other? What the hell has gotten into everybody? It's those terrorists we should be going after, not each other..." he thought to himself. Dorian felt like a sane person trapped in an asylum, with very few rooms in which he hadn't visited, and very few patients he hadn't seen. During the day and a half he'd been walking he'd bore witness to many murders at the hands of his classmates, but had always managed to stay hidden, using his incredible endurance and speed to escape before anyone had noticed him.

These tragedies were consequently the reason why Dorian had opted to venture into the jungle, where he figured many students would be avoiding. He'd taken time to notice the harsh weather conditions at the beginning of the day, and had finally reached his destination; a hollowed out tree that had been indicated plainly on his map. It was likely to be one of the more isolated places on the island, and would still provide him enough shelter to escape the imminent downpour. Dorian began to smell something odd and unfamiliar in the air as he approached the tree, but blew it off as a typical scent of the jungle. The curiousity of the smell didn't have much time to register with him, however, as his eyes caught sight of one of his classmates, seemingly transfixed by something on the ground.

Dorian immediately recognized the tall, somewhat lanky boy as Reg Robson, an environmental activist from Southridge High, and sighed in relief. Given that he could probably only trust a few people on the island now, Dorian was glad he ran into Reg of all people, one of the few whom he almost had absolute faith in. He had met him on several occasions before, as Dorian also volunteered through the biology club to clean the school and surrounding neighbourhood, and was aware of Reg's charming and friendly nature. He wasted no time in approaching him, a smile having formed on his face.

"Reg...hey! Man, am I glad to see you," he started, but Reg seemed to be spaced out, or otherwise distracted. "What's eating him?" Dorian wondered, turning in the direction in which Reg had been staring just moments before, when the most disgusting thing he had ever seen greeted his eyes. It was the corpse of a girl, bleeding from her head and lying in the grass. Dorian had evaded the majority of the killings before, but this was the closest he had ever gotten to a corpse...and one that he recognized, at that.

"Kristin..." he muttered, staring in a mix of bewilderment and paralysis at her body. Luckily for him he'd always possessed a strong stomach, but the sight and smell (which he now realized eminated from the corpse) were still considerably overbearing. Dorian turned away, opting instead to enter the hollowed out portion of the tree and setting down his bag and his daypack against one of its walls. He took a seat beside his belongings and looked back out over towards Reg, hoping to God that he wouldn't have to make use of the pepper spray he'd been issued as a weapon.

"Dude, you should come inside...it looks like a storm's coming."

It took the first couple drops of rain, before Reg woke from the trance like state he'd been in. He heard Dorian's voice, and a sense of relief came over him. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn't even notice Dorian arrive.

Walking slowly over to the hole in the tree, Reg didn't know if he felt guilty or not about how happy he was to have found Dorian. Was it selfish to want to embrace a happiness that many of his friends would not see on the island?

The rain started to really come down as Reg sat down under the cover of the tree.

"So, this isn't what I had in mind when I got on the bus." Reg said, trying to force a smile.

Dorian was incredibly thankful that Reg attempted to lighten the mood, despite the obviously dreadful atmosphere that the boys now found themselves in. That was the great thing about finding Reg; it was one of the few people on the island that he could safely assume wouldn't be out to get him. Unfortunately for him, this positive reinforcement of his situation didn't last long, as the announcements roared to life around Dorian, telling of the previous day's events. The death count seemed to have slowed down, which he supposed was a good thing, but the fact that none of the major killers on the island had been offed yet didn't do much to comfort him.

"No...I...yeah, me either," He barely managed, still unable to comprehend the sheer scope of their situation. How do high school students turn into murderers in the course of less than a week? If they were all back at Southridge, surely they wouldn't have turned into this, right?

Sure, Dorian understood the fact that their lives were at stake, but what could possibly prompt them to all kill one another? "We should be focusing on getting rid of those terrorists, or getting out of here...then again, didn't that Danya guy say that if at least one person doesn't die every day...then we all do?" The very thought of everyone he knew dying in a massive shockwave was almost too much to bear, and Dorian had to cough to cover up the fact that he was starting to get choked up just thinking about the possibility.

Another thing he couldn't understand was how some of the students he'd heard of on the announcements had managed to turn into cold-blooded killers so quickly. How did people like Nathanial Harris and Gabriel Theobaldt find themselves so capable of taking their friend's lives so readily? He supposed that some of the kills must've been in self-defense, but those two in particular always seemed to come up on the announcements.

"Here's a better question; how did freaks like that Blood Boy kid even get into the public school system? Who lets you wear a mask on your face all the time? The rest of us aren't allowed to wear hats. What a rip-off." The sharp sarcasm he found himself using inwardly was surprising even to himself. Had the game really started to get to him? Was he honestly starting to dislike some of his classmates just based on things he'd heard?

He wouldn't have any of it. Dorian replaced the pepper spray back into his daypack, instead taking out one of the bottles of water and sipping from it mechanically. They could play this sick and twisted game all they want, but he wouldn't have any part of it. There had to be a way they could get out. Him, Reg, maybe a few other people that were trustworthy...there had to be something they could do.

Dorian turned to Reg suddenly, another thought popping into his head. "So, uh...what was your assigned weapon? I got that pepper spray..."

"Screwdriver." Reg mumbled, as he pulled the weapon out.

Reg couldn't help but think that somewhere out there in the world, there were people watching him and Dorian under the tree, listening in at their almost monotonous conversation. He also wondered if his mom had been informed of the unfortunate predicament her son had been faced with. What she would think of it? If she would even watch it?

"You know, Herbert Hoover once said, 'Older men declare war. But it is the youth that must fight and die.' I think I can see why he said that." Reg paused for a breath before continuing, "Like we're just a bunch of teenagers. What is there to prove to the world by having us kill each other. What good comes of it? Nothing. My whole life I've been taught to look for and embrace the good in everything, and then I'm put here. In a warzone where my own friends are my enemies. What is there that is any good here?"

Reg rose to his feet, and stared at the jungle while the rain still feel. It was serene now, but for how long?

"Like Dorian, I don't know what I'm going to do the first time I run into someone who is actually playing this game. I just can't kill someone."

"Then we have to get out of here before that happens," Dorian responded almost immediately to the end of Reg's explanation. Dorian hadn't ever watched the other versions of SOTF over the air, but he was familiar with the concept. "If we can get these collars off, then, maybe..." He began, but was unsure of what they'd be able to do after that. Even if they did find a way to get the "tinker-proof" collars off, what next?

Scraping his mind for ideas, or at least for things that could be beneficial to the two of them and the other students, Dorian was beginning to develop a headache. Their predicament was beyond incredible, and the usually cool, calm and collected individual was starting to get slightly irritated. How could people he'd been good friends with for years suddenly find it within themselves to go around killing each other? All the students he'd heard about on the announcements, both victims and their murderers, shocked him to the point of disgust. It was inhumane, it was unthinkable. Every time Danya's voice came on the announcements, he just wanted to reach in there and...

The idea hit Dorian like a sack of a bricks. For the last two days, it hadn't been Danya's voice on the announcements, but rather that bumbling buffoon who seemed more inept than Paris Hilton pre-rehab. He wasted no time in explaining his methodology to his companion. "Reg, Danya's not on the island right now, remember? It's been that other terrorist doing the announcements for the last few days, and he doesn't sound like he's got things under control at all. If we're gonna get off the island, now's our chance. Come on! There's still hope. We've gotta find some people who aren't completely crazy and come up with a way to get out of here."

Dane felt as though he had been walking forever. The tall, wet grass was awkward to move through and his old shoes were drenched with water. He was sure that everyone could hear his squelchy steps, he briefly considered taking them off but surely that would be much worse? Who knew what kinds of poisonous plants were lurking in the forest. He checked his map, any minute now he should be coming across a hollow tree. Hopefully he could lay low for a while and think of some kind of plan.

Dane heard a faint conversation, the voices were familiar but he couldn't place them. He crouched down and peered through the long grass. He could see the hollow tree and two boys talking, it was Reginald and Dorian, on the ground near to them was the body of a girl. It was Kristin. Had those two killed her? And now they were just casually conversing. Had they adapted to the game that quickly?

Dane was conflicted. He'd always heard nice things about those two, could they have killed someone? It could have been self-defence after all. Dane opened his bag and took out his weapon, a Smith & Wesson .357. Dane had never fired a gun before, he'd never even held one, but he'd seen enough movies to have a good idea what to do! He put the gun in the inside pocket of coat hoping it couldn't misfire.

He took a deep breath, stood up and walked out of his hiding place towards to the boys.

"Hello!" He called out nervously, his eyes were drawn to the dead body, "What happened? Did you…" His voice trailed off, he couldn't finish the sentence. It was a terrible accusation to throw at someone. He looked at the two of them; hoping one of them would end the awkward silence that had fallen.

(B72 is go.)

Dennis checked his map again. Judging from the distance of the sun, the wind's orientation with the Pythagorean theorem, and the parabola of the sun, he was...
"Completely fucking lost." He mumbled, with an eye roll. "Fun."

He resisted the urge to pull on the collar again. It was so damn uncomfortable, not to mention continuously having a knife to his throat wasn't exactly awesome. He had quite a few ideas as to how to get it off, but he wasn't nearly sure enough to try.

"Hello?"

Hey woah wait. That voice was awfully familiar. Dennis looked around for the source, as a kid stood up from the grass where he had been hiding. He was facing away, toward two other guys further away, but he could still tell who it was.

"Dane!" He half-yelled, walking forward. Dennis knew him from the baseball team. He joined it for a year, but lost interest in the sport's slow pace and didn't sign up again the following season. He and Dane still knew each other pretty well, though.

The tone of Dane's voice, made Reg fully aware, that he was being accused of murder.

Well, maybe not accused, more questioned. Afterall, he is in the right to be suspicious given the circumstances.

Before Reg could answer however, another student, whom Reg remembered as Dennis came upon the group.

"Okay, well, Dane no, neither Dorian or I killed her. Both of us arrived not 10 minutes ago seeking shelter from the weather," Reg said Dane before turning to Dennis, "And welcome Dennis. You and Dane are both welcome to join in under here, get yourselves a bit dried off, and maybe help Dorian and I. Dorian has just brought up a good point, that for the last couple of announcements, it has not been Danya's voice on the announcements. That either means his voice box got ripped out, or he's not around running things right now. With him not here we could make our move. Rebellion gentlemen. It may be brutal, but it gets stuff done."

Dane ventured under Hollow Tree, he gave a little shake to get rid of stray raindrops and thought about Reginald's proposal. Rebellion? Did Reg seriously think that it would be possible? There were cameras everywhere and probably microphones as well.

"I don't know…" Dane began, "I don't think we could, won't our collars explode?" He fiddled with his own collar absentmindedly then dropped his hands to his side as he remembered the possible implications. At least Dane could take comfort in the fact that Reg and Dorian hadn't killed Kristin, they seemed to be trustworthy enough but did he want to put his life in their hands?

"What do you think Dennis? Rebellion? Sounds impossible. Surely people have tried it before?" He looked at the three faces staring back at him, he didn't want to rain on their parade but someone had to be the voice of reason!

"I don't wanna give 'em the satisfaction of playing this screwed up evolution test or whatever. Rebellion it is." Dennis nodded, pushing some of his hair aside to get it out of his face. He looked down to the corpse nearby. "And I don't think they'd kill us with the collars...at least not right away. They want to screw with our minds first, it's the whole reason for this contest thing."

EDIT: This was a bit longer but it was under the assumption that the collars had a knife that cut your throat and that's how it worked, but NUUUUU. D:< I had epic plans. Epic ones! And now they're just pissed away.

Dorian was caught slightly off-guard when a rustling in the bushes alerted him to another person's presence, but was slightly relieved to see Dane emerge from the undergrowth. He was relatively well-acquainted with the athlete, having affectionately coined the nickname 'Ziggy' for him at one of many pep rallies that seemed much too long ago to him now. In his opinion, it made him sound slightly more personable and a bit less like a knight out of the tenth century. He wasn't sure if the name had ever caught on with anyone else, or even if Dane enjoyed being called that, but it was just one of many high school nuances that he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever be able to fondly remember again.

"Hey Ziggy..." Dorian had begun rather blandly, but was quickly interrupted by Dane's next line of thought. The bewilderment in his speech befuddled Dorian slightly, but only until he realized that Dane's eyes were transfixed on the corpse of Kristin Washington lying but a few feet away from them. Dorian couldn't see any visible weapon on Dane, so the question didn't seem like it was laced with any intention of threatening the two. Deciding to remain calm and rationally explain the situation to him, Dorian turned towards his daypack and began unzipping it, fumbling around inside.

While he was in the process of retrieving his assigned weapon, he overheard Reg explain the situation to Dane. Immediately after he seemed to address Dennis, whom Dorian hadn't even noticed showing up yet, but after glancing quickly over his shoulder he realized that it was the same Dennis he'd noticed usually hanging out with Dane in and around Highland Beach. Deciding he was still not in any imminent danger he returned to searching his pack while the other three conversed about their plans.

Dorian finally found what he was looking for, and withdrew the pepper spray with some degree of difficulty from under the mass of his remaining provisions in the daypack. He also removed the map of the island from the pack, realizing that the four of them had better get moving, lest they all become sitting ducks. The morning announcements were about to chime up again, and once the dangerzones were declared for the day, anything was possible. He decided that he'd rather be prepared than caught off-guard, and began glancing down steadily towards the map, concentrating on finding somewhere that would be beneficial to the boys' escape plan.

Realizing that he'd forgotten to address Dane in regards to his question, Dorian looked up and held the pepper spray up loosely in his left hand. "This is all they gave me. I couldn't kill anyone with it if I tried..." He stated rather plainly, for there was no other way to phrase it. "In fact, I don't think I could kill anyone...at all..." He thought to himself on an aside, but shook the thought out of his mind. Dorian placed the pepper spray in his pocket this time, deciding it would be better to keep it there incase the need to use it ever arose.

After about thirty seconds of silence between the crowd, Dorian finally piped up. "There's a lookout tower sorta near the coast on the map. If we're going to find any way to escape, our best bet is probably to start there. At the least, it'd give us a vantage point..." His unfortunately adaptation to their current circumstances was rather unsettling to Dorian, but it was all he could do to keep his cool without exploding in a mix of fear and rage. He wasn't sure how he felt anymore, but he didn't bother to think about it too much. He replaced the map into his daypack and zipped it up, hefting it over his pack and grabbing the duffle bag he'd brought along on the trip. Rising from his current position, he looked at the three of them.

"We should head there. I've memorized the way. Let's go, before this place gets too crowded," he whispered somewhat stoically, trying his best to maintain his composure in light of their current predicament before walking out of the hollow tree and into the jungle. If he couldn't defend his friends, at the least he could try to lead them out of danger...or so he hoped.

(Dorian Ibanescu continued in A View to a Kill)

Dennis turned to follow, but slowed to a stop. He turned around, looking at the dead body again. He knew this girl, he'd never talked to her too much and couldn't place a name, but the face was familiar enough. He closed his eyes as a shudder slowly made it's way up his spine, dying out in his neck. The shock value of a dead body certainly didn't help, but what disturbed him most was the fact that it shed light on just how much those steps that Danya fucker took to encourage murder were working. It wasn't great for his faith in humanity, to be sure.

He was reluctant to turn and leave, even though Dorian was rapidly slipping out of view. This couldn't have been the first corpse, and certainly not last, but simply leaving it behind felt...wrong. Unceremonious. Insulting, a little. He steeled his will, telling himself that he couldn't dwell on every classmate who met their end here as he'd probably be dwelling for the rest of his life. Finally resolving to follow in the interest of self-preservation, he closed the girl's eyes, hoping to give the encounter some sort of closure.

It didn't.

(Dennis McDonald continued somewhere else.)

Dane took one last look down at the corpse as Dennis closed its eyes. Dorian had already headed off and Dennis was sure to follow. Dane didn't want to be left alone but he didn't want to die in some pointless rebellion. He weighed up his options, he knew that there was strength in numbers and surely it would be safer in a group? He looked at Dennis' retreating figure and reluctantly followed with a worried sigh.

(Danesfort Zygmunt continued elsewhere)

"Well, so much for that idea. I guess I'm going to try and get out of here myself."

((Continued in The Continuing Story of Bungalow Reg))