Survival Of The Fittest

((Continued from This is Your Wake-Up Call...))

"Shit, didn't anyone on this Island have a little class?" Franco Sebberts frowned as he tore through the latest closest. His flashlight flickered against the stale wallpaper of the house, night had fallen and he hadn't bothered to try the lights, everywhere else the power was out. He had shed his gore soaked threads and was currently wearing a pair of black dress pants he had found in the neighbouring house, but he had not yet been able to find a trendy suit or and acceptable white shirt. "We've been through three houses and I haven't yet found a single suit my size."

Franco looked back to Russell; he didn't seem to be having the same trouble finding suitable wear. He'd been fully dress for two houses. Franco, however, liked to dress with a little style. He wandered upstairs into the bedrooms of the large household and finally found something he was willing to settle on.

"Here we are," Franco pulled a few pairs of business black suits out from the closest. His eyes gleamed with fierce delight. He threw them listlessly onto a nearby bed. "Put one of those on, Russ. I'm sure these will fit me, and if they fit me they'll fit you. We want to look presentable if we want to make allies."

Franco was about the same height as Russell, but the boy certainly had some weight on the smallish boy.  Nevertheless, Franco felt a head taller and a whole lot more powerful then anyone right now. Previous to his time on the Island most of his power was garner by playing the servile minion to others. Sure, he got what he wanted and everything was good, but he had always yearned for more. He wanted to call the shots, and not from behind the comfortable barrier of the syndicate anymore. When he got off this Island, he was going to be in charge, he would make sure of it. He had always been a leader, but at PJ Gilroy there was always some good looking chump or chumpette with richer parents to edge you out. Franco never had the look of a leader, but he had all the qualities of a great politician.

He thought about Marvin. He'd been thinking a lot about Marvin lately, it was really starting to frighten him. He couldn't believe what he had done. He still believed he had made the right decision, and given the circumstances, no one would blame him for it. He hadn't even fired the first shot, he couldn't have, and he didn't have the gut for it. He left that part to Russell, but once he'd seen it done, he had no reservations about doing it himself.

He buttoned up the shirt and slung the jacket over his shoulders, this was relatively difficult being that the only light he had was a flashlight and he was crammed into a small bathroom. He wandered back out into the bedroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He knew he cleaned up pretty well, but given the circumstances he admired himself for his efforts. He had managed to clean himself up in a de-funk kitchen sink and had wiped all the blood off with his old clothes. The suit jacket hung fairly low, making him look like a character from a Quentin Tarantino movie. He just needed a pair of shades.

For a long time it seemed, he tried to wipe out all the creases in the jacket. Giving it a perfect appearance. A perfect surface. He kept staring himself in the mirror and kept trying to feel sorry for his lost friend, but somehow he couldn't muster it up. Given the situation it was getting increasingly difficult for Franco to worry about others. He was doing what he needed to do to get him what he wanted. It's what he had always done, just never so forcefully...

He removed the suit and shouted to Russell in the other room.

"We'll camp here for the night. Make sure you eat some of that food we gathered from the other houses and get some rest. We've got to be sharp tomorrow."

Franco flopped carelessly onto the bed. Maybe he wasn't doing the right thing? Still, it was hard for him to hold those reservations when he was this well off and finally fulfilling his lifelong goal. He was going to climb to the top. The Island was giving him just that opportunity.

Russell responded to all of Franco's commands. He did not want to upset the man, plus he could not help but listen greatly. Whenever he spoak it was like beatiful music. Russell knew he was not the smartest kid in the whole world, but Franco on the other hand seemed very intelligent. Russell knew as he followed Franco around he walked like some rich bastard that he was bigger. On the other hand this rich bastard was on my side, and as long as he holds that "rubber ball" gernade launcher he was set. Russell walked into the final house, Franco seemed to be dissapointed he was looking for something big to wear. Russell was already dressed for two houses. Finnally we arrived at the final house, and during this time the sky turned dark.

We approached this house and Franco looked through the closets in the rooms finnally he spotted some bussiness suits. He seemed relieved, he did make Russell laugh when he said people had no sense of style. Humour! Thought Russell he must be a good man. Russell proceeded to look around the entire house and came accross the kitchen and thought about cooking something when Franco called him over. He walked to the room where Franco had two suits laying out, he told him to pick one of them. Russell went over and grabbed one of the suits and put it on as he was about the same size as Franco except for Russell was a little more heavy from being built.

He mentioned to Franco that maybe he could make a good meal to get our minds off all of this for now. He proceeded to the kitchen and got everything ready. He placed his bag on a bed in a different room and brought his shotgun with him he placed it on the table. He then went back to his room and got some of the rations and began to make due of whatever he had.

As Russell stayed in the kitchen he thought about that man that had died and the image passed through his mind, the fact he had shot the man and blew half of his body on the wall. He had also thought how Franco made him do it. It came apparent to Russell he needed to do it, I mean he would have had to do it sometime. Plus he seemed to have gone crazy by throwing himself and his backpack at Russell. He had it coming he had snapped and if you snap you have to know in this game you will get shot.

Franco had also mentioned that we were going to recruit others in our group. He had approached Franco in the room, he had asked him "if we do recruit other we are the original two right? They will have to listen to us we are the boss. He smiled and waited for a response.
I mean we work well together I can intimidate others and you can just talk to them; We are unstoppable!"

Russell thought of all of those family members at home, how his mom was at home and didnt want anything to happen to her child. After what his father did and all that happened I am all she has left. I know I will win this for mother. She will understand what I had to do. Atleast she knew I loved her and that she loved me. I know my father is probable watching me, and he is have a marvelous time watching me squirm. Unlike him I will not be like him. He is a weasel and a loser. I am a winner. Fate has given me a good parnter and a shotgun while you deserve to be hung!

"So Franco what do you have in mind after we camp here tonight?"

Franco was slightly surprised by Russell willingness to aid him. He somehow felt connected to the other boy, like killing together had brought them closer together. They were like Perry Smith and Dick Hickock, or Harry Longabaugh and Robert Parker. They were bonded by blood now. They didn't know much about each other. They had hardly talked about their lives before the Island on the way out of the hotel, but Franco could feel a strong link between them. It was a little bit surreal, considering how 'out of body' Franco felt right now. He felt like his mind was floating just a foot above his head, and that he was just watching this all going on.

He shook his head and looked over at Russell, acknowledging his plan of action. He listened carefully to what he was saying, despite his current state of mind; the weasely little politician was always on his toes. He analyzed his speech and then waited courteously to answer his question.

"Tomorrow, we follow the noises," Franco smirked into the mirror and sank his teeth into some of Marvin's salvaged rations. "We find people who are willing to compete and take this thing to the end."

He pondered the feasibility of it all. Would people willing to play really be looking for allies? It was, after all, better than striking off alone. Sure you don't have to worry about betrayal when you are alone, but the odds were certainly better for survival with a group. He continued not pondering it further. He would find a way for people to join them. He would weasel his way through to the top once again.

"Let's not have any delusions about this, Russell," Franco eyed him gravely. "If we do recruit other members me and you are priority one ok? This is important now so I want you to listen closely. At no point, do we let anyone in our group know this, and at no point shall we betray another member of our group unless we absolutely have to. Do you understand what I‘m saying?"

The question rang through Franco's own head. He knew that betrayal would have to happen eventually, but if he could get people to sacrifice themselves in the line of duty instead, well, that was different...

He didn't have any delusions about himself. Franco knew his only skill was his way with people, and his willingness to do what he needed to do to project him to the top. If it came down to blows between him and Russell, he was certain the young man would mop the floor with his cheap hair-cut. That's just why he made an ally out of him.

Marvin was different, he could've seen through some of Franco's techniques. He would have challenged Franco at every turn, and the young boy was clearly going mad as well. He was not to be had by him.

"Anyway," Franco suddenly realized he really didn't know much about Russell. He dug into the rations in his pack as he talked. Knowledge was power, even her in the most primal setting. "Tell me about yourself, Russell. What school do you go to and all that business? I figure we should know some stuff about one another, if we are going to be partners to the end."

Russell looked at Franco with interest, it was something with every word he said. He had spoken in great words like he was some sort of political diplomat. He had nodded to everything he said from following the noises to shaking his head at some of his ideas. His words seem to leave his mouth as if god was presenting him with advice.

Franco had mentioned that there would only be them two and if they did recruit anyone else it would be them two first then everyone else. Russ seem to like all of that, he had trusted Franco maybe even enough for him to give his own life to save his. Then he spoke to Russell asking about more information about him.

Russell looked deep into his eyes as he couldnt keep his eyes off of him. He began to tell him he is from Bathurst school. He had participated in many activities and had many friends. He then had told him some of his secrets that he had told noone since it happened. He told him about his father and what he had done to him. Russ was furious, as he spoke. It felt great to talk to someone before he possibly would die. Russell felt like Franco was the only person he could talk to someone about this. It was a touchy subject but he needed to speak about it.

He then turned to Franco and wiped the little tears that had come down his face. "Well enough about me tell me about yourself?" he looked at Franco as he looked like the kind of guy that seemed to want to talk about himself and did not want to make Franco angry.

Franco raised an eyebrow as Russell confessed his past willingly. He went through all the trails and tragic happenings as Franco sat indignantly across in the opposite chair. He listened closely, feigning empathy and listening for crucial points, as Russell broke into tears and confessed the abuses he went through, Franco listened even closer. His boredom broke as he listened intently, and perked up as Russell posed a question to him.

"Ah," Franco straightened himself out before speaking. "My past is slightly uninteresting by comparison. I must say that I feel the utmost regret about the situation with your father. It's a terrible thing to hear."

He stopped fingering with his grenade launcher as he spoke to Russell. He placed it delicately on the kitchen table; their flashlights - along with two others from Marvin's - bag illuminated the room. The abandoned kitchen was fairly well kept, despite its lack of use although quaint.

"I grew up in New Jersey, actually," he continued with a great deal of gravity. His trade-marked smirk would not go over well in this situation. "My father sold cars, and my mother was born into a fair bit of money. My father owns a great deal of real estate now, and we live in Kensington heights. My father is looking into buying the old dealership that he worked for."

Franco continued at some length about his life before the Island. He talked of his life at PJ Gilroy and his ‘partners' in the ‘school organization.' He didn't delve to deep, being as he didn't want to offend Russell, so he began to talk strategy and about possible recruits.

"I think with my friends at Gilroy and such," Franco carried on with an ambitious glint in his eye. "We can get a group of people together willing to fight to win this thing."

He pushed himself back from the table, the two had both eaten well with the supplies they'd gathered from Marvin and from this house, and he was beginning to wear out. He stood up and looked to the stairway.

"What say we get some rest, hmm?" Franco looked over to Russell. "We are going to be very busy tomorrow, and I want to be in tip-top shape."

Stopping halfway up the stairs to the master bedroom, he turned and looked at Russell again.

"Oh, and if you hear any noise, wake me up," Franco tapped his finger on his grenade launcher. "We wouldn't want anyone sneaking up on us, would we?"

((Continued in Weapons Drop.))