Survival Of The Fittest

((Continued from: I am Legend/Out for Blood))

A new place to stevan, The hillside cliff. He wasnt aiming for this place, but it was where he ended up and, hell, it didnt bother him. The cliffs edge came into view and he walked closer. He stood at the edge looking accross the island, Just wondering who was out, who were still alive from the people he'd seen. Wjhhere was blood boy since he had left him? Probally dead, or trying to hook up with another unsuspecting victem.

He cracked his neck, from left to right, as he walked away from the edge, not more than thirty meters. He slung his bag from his shoulder and promptly fell to ground after it, using it as a substitute pillow.

He took out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and was about to take one out before he thought.

If anything, this is whats going to kill me.

The packet was slid back into his pocket, and he put his arms over his head for extra comfort.

He didnt know who'd he come accross next, Nor' who they were or why they decided to come here. Frankly he didnt give a shit. He was here now just to do his assigned job, kill off as many students as possible, and let the rest either commit suicide or be killed by another playing student.

Another thing he didnt get was this whole 'playin' thing anyway, I mean they were here for a reason, and one reason only, and that was to do what stevan had been doing, and in the previous couple hours doing well. The so called 'good guys' knew what they had to do and to get home, yet still they denied it. Why must they live in disallusion? you kill, you survive, you go home, that was the game, and thats how you played, simple as, but they just wouldent do as they were told. I guess they didnt take nearly as much pleassure as The freak did in it, but i guess there just 'soft'.

He did have to hand it to them though, They did have balls for denying there ticket home, trying to take on danya, trying to find ways to get past the boats guarding the surrounding waters. They were brave.

Freak could of chosen that path too, but simply chose not too, His life in solitude had taught him no one was to be fully trusted. Maybe this was just a way of stevan getting himself noticed, Of course he knew the game was being broadcast around america, probally the world, and with the lime light set firmly on him what else could he do? Jump of that cliff over there so people could laugh at him? Team up with a load of hero wannabes and be a pacifist only to be a lamb to the slaughter? no, He could make himself recognized for once, show all them people that thought he was dog shit, His teachers, classmates, and most of all his father. The piece of shit that the freak was spawned from. Nothing but a drunken woman beater.

He thought back to the time when he and his mother were sitting in the lounge, watching one of those reality t.v shows. Of course he was not yet known as freak, and was a the naive age of just seven. Yet his father came in drunk once again and immediately targeted the boy, Picking him up by hands and throwing him on the floor, All for just a seat, all this abuse just for somewhere to sit. When his mother intervined to defend her son, the abuse was quickly changed and directed at her, the devout cchristian, taking her beatings as a punishment, from god, from someone who doesnt exist. A young stevan would always get up dust it off and try to defend his mother in return, And each time without fail, He would see that bloody fist come towards his face.

He beleived this was his time, his time to strike back at the world, take on the terrorist act as his own and become world famous for murdering human beings.

Fuck this! so what if it kills me, its why i started in the fucking first place.

He thought as he pulled that pack out from his pocket and put the cancer stick between his pale lips. His fathers zippo revealed to the world as it was flicked open with a flip of the wrist, then run accross his leg with some speed. The flame slowly rose from the lighter and was placed on the tip of the white stick.A light hissing noise, followed by a flare of orange and yelklow occured.

His lips wrapped around the cancer, as he took a deep breathe, inhaling the toxins as he did so.

There he lay and wait, for something to happen. he was in a new place, hoping to meet new people, what could go wrong?

((OOC: Coming from Sing of Tomorrow.))

The answer to the question came in many forms. One, being a man clad in bulky black, his face covered to destroy any humanity to his appearance. It worked well to McLocke's advantage, and, even better, fit his character. Magical, mystical, monsterous magician McLocke. A bit of alliteration to help add to his waning focus. Didn't work too good, since he wasn't the biggest English fan. What he was a fan of was the adrenaline rush he had been feeling ever since he stepped off of the plane. No remorse, no thoughts, only that pounding in your chest and ears. Nothing could be sweeter to focus on.

From on top of the cliff, he had the glorious view of a student lying down on the dirt, using his daypack as a pillow. And, my, oh my, was he smoking? McLocke licked his top lip, moistening it and making it shine. Aren't you a little young to be into that sort of thing, good sir? Then again, they were American. At this age just about all of them had contracted enough STDs to make an innocent puppy dog. Fuck. Ever heard of abstinence?

McLocke growled, growing feral and detatching him from the rest of his mind. He could feel it now, the rush inside growing stronger and stronger. It was time. Everything was set in place. Time to go. Time to kill. Yes. So sweet. Prepare yourself, smokah, yah gonna get smoked the hell out of. Of course, that'd be hard for McLocke to do, seeing how Danya had given him the shortest end of the stick. Some sort of knife and that was about it, aside from the kevlar, camouflage gear, and balaclava.

He walked over to the easiest part of the cliff, pushing down on it and causing it to crumble. Down, down, down, he slid, on balance taught to him through all his years. Down... McLocke jittered a bit, hitting the bottom hard. Screw it.

You can have the first move.

His arms outstretched to welcome it. The large knife glinted in his right hand, despite the dried blood.

Oh, c'mon, kid. I won't bite. ...Too hard.

It had hardly been fifteen minutes before he heard that sound, landslide? Another new person to meet,greet and kill? He slowly pulled himself up, sitting on the dirt like a small child, Cigarette in mouth, and smoke flowing from his lips he slowly looked around. His hand was placed on his ever so faithful shotgun.

The figure came into view and it was not at all expected. Not one of those weedy little schoolkids, but a soilder clad in camo.Not to threatening really. Looked more like a fancy dress outfit. Not even a plastic gun to complete the outfit.

He slowly rose uyp, using his spas 12 as a rest as he did so, lazy as ever. It must be one of those terrorist guys, the big guy said they would be coming and this must be it. Confronted by an armless terrorist, the new death dealers on the island, the one to take out the compition, Yet nothing more than a knife in hand. If he won, not only would he get to go home, but he would also be famous, killing a terrorist, and a a fucking muscley one at that. He had to laugh out loud

God i wish i didnt like this.

Bringing that gun to hip height and speaking to him. "So your the terrorists? not much really, thought you'd all have M16's and whatnot,you've let me down" he said while cokcing that shotgun of his, of course he knew uit didnt have to be cocked, but mayb he was doing it to be threatening, Like when someguys causing trouble in a bar and the barman picks up his pump action and cocks it, imforming the troublemaker to leave.

So...Enter the hero, The one to take down the first terrorist, But if he did win would he really want to go home? Back to american family he'd been stationed with, then back to cruddy old england to be moved from foster parent to foster parent. Or if he asked kindly enough, danya would grant his wish and let him stay, maybe a box of cigarettes and a new arsenal too go with it.

He took the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the floor, it sizzling in a small clump of grass

"So are you going to drop that knive or am i going to to shoot you? i just cocked my shotgun?"

((Coming from: Girl #50 - Let it Bleed))

The cut on his face was stinging still well more than stinging but the best you could get out of him would be "Its stinging".Damn male machoness eh? That 49 round wielding weapon was still gripped tightly in pale and now bloodied fingertips as he would move across the open space towards the cliff.

No cover.This place was too good to be true, someone was here that was for sure he could catch the odd word on the wind aswell as the smell of Nicotine.The smell of the Nicotine was more than enough to attract the long haired student.

His cravings were begining to kill him and he did indeed have his own cigarettes but maybe he could ask for one from the student? Maybe a nice little talk and a cigarette or maybe he would just choose to mow down the student when he or she reached for her carton of cigarettes.Well he wasnt much of a people person but when cancer was involved he would make an exception.

The strap of the Ingram was resting on his shoulder and so fingertips would finally release the weapon to let it hang at his side as he moved towards the smell of that wonderful drug he loved so much.

Boots padded at the ground as he walked casually to the sound of the smoke.The two figures came into his view, one dressed all in black and the other holding a stick? and he seemed to be talking.

Closer and closer did he move until finally he could recognise that "stick" the boy was holding and indeed the boy who was.Stevan and his shotgun with yet another new found friend.

He would get his smoke for sure now although the sight of the black covered figure would cause him to oncemore wrap his hand around the handle of his weapon as he finally came to a halt a foot or two behind his friend.Just in time to catch the end of his little speech.

"I Heard" he said with a smirk at their on running joke as the Ingram snapped up towards the black figure and a burst of rounds would be fired towards the figure.Better safe than sorry, friend or enemy it was all the same.

Maybe eight or nine rounds were spat from the barrel of the weapon.

Whoever the guy was he defintly didnt come from any school around here and judging by the camoflauge he wasnt here for the scenery.Terrorist? Stevan had made a good point, you woudl expect more judging by the announcments.

McLocke's lips slowly formed a cocky smile. Maddening his appearance, he tilted his head, as if he were contemplating Stevan's question. To drop the knife, or not to drop the knife, that was the question. Whether t'is exciting in the mind to fight the guns and bullets of misfortune, or to take knife against a legion of students. And by -- Enough. It was making the pink and gray between his ears hurt. Definitely wasn't the time to go off on long sililoquies, but, rather, time to rush the enemy head on. If the smoker wasn't going to meet him, then, hell, McLocke would just need to meet him with a raised blade.

A cloud passed over his eyes as his body began to shudder. By the third shot, he was dancing, wobbling; near fall, balance regained. The kevlar had done its job with colors, catching each bullet in its intricate fabric. Ugh. Where was the coward? McLocke turned unwisely away from Stevan to face the new foe. For a moment, he was stuck between the two, wondering who would be best to take down.

Choosing the first with the shotgun, he threw the knife towards him, knowing full well that it wouldn't do anything. Didn't matter. Side stepping and gaining a new footing for the earth, he drew a second knife of equal size out of the elaborate belt around his waist. It was thrown aswell, this time at the second foe with the Ingram. Tsk.

That was when his true weapons were drawn. Two beautiful CZ-G2000 pistols, one in each hand, made somewhere in the Czech republic. Sweet. 19 rounds to each cartridge, and McLocke was packing heavy. Woo.

Game's been leveled, boys. Time to play students and terrorist.

(Continued from "Taking Stock" @Teh Well)

The gentle snapping of twigs underfoot, the light smell of fresh blood wafed through the air from the multitude of mangled corpses around the island. Eh-Sun had been experianceing these things scince she woke up on the island,after being kidnapped from her home in Andong.

As she was approching the hillside cliff area there was 2 standing figures and one bulky standing figure closer to her, wearing nothing but black, with a glint of black metal in each of his hands.

Niice, One of those terrorist Sons of bitches the big man was talking about.

Eh-Sun tucked her Taurus into her bag, and pulled out that Katana that Peri went on about, that Shinya had at one point. Unsheithing the sword as she tried to quietly walk up behind the bulkier figure, who at the time had his back towards her.

Making it up behind the male, after a good few minutes. Eh-Sun raised the sword up with both hands(the sheath is on the ground a few feet away) and swung it at one of the man's right arm, one of the arms that is holding a gun.

"C'mon dont put up too much of a struggle, and be a good little terrorsheep"

He moved when he was certain, whirling around to the left and out of the sword's path. There was another opponent now. This time some sword weilding Asian, like in those crap dub films he got back home. McLocke was amused by her. If he could laugh, he would as he shoved down on her exposed back. Simple and easy does it, little girl. Next time you draw your katana, do remember the loud noise it makes, and, better yet, learn how to actually use it.

Still got my eye on the rest of you. McLocke made sure to watch the rest of his surroundings, stealing glances between the shotgun, the Ingram, and the katana every four beats. Remember that before another one pops up outta nowhere. He liked this, though. The work out would do him some good, after all.

"shit..."

That is all Eh-Sun could think as the terrorist moved behind her and pushed her to the ground, causing her to drop her sword, whitch fell into the nearby brush.

Pushing herself up onto her knees, Eh-Sun grabbed the Cattle prod whitch fell out of her open bag along with her length of rope and her Taurus handgun. Switching the cattle prod on, She swung it behind her, at the man in black.

Anticipating the swing, he stepped away again, nearly getting hit by the electric tool. Working on adrenaline, he aimed his foot for Eh-Sun's hands and kicked out to try to make her drop the prod. Unfair bitch. Where was the fun in dodging a fatal weapon like that one? His throat clicked and gurgled, trying to form some sort of reprimand.

McLocke backed off a little and squeezed the triggers of his guns. It was a little hypocritical, seeing how guns weren't all that fun, either, but it suited the annoying girl.

Eh-Sun felt as the man's foot connect with her hands, causing the cattle prod to fall somewhere out of her immediate reach, soon after the two shots were fired, one hit the dirt near her, and the 2nd shot grazed her cheek, causing a small amount of blood to trickle down to her chin.

Feeling the slight sting of the graze, Eh-Sun dug in her open bag , and found a large silver handgun whitch she never used, yet it came with the bag she looted off that kid who was looting that Shinya kid. Pulling out the handgun and raising the gun up towards the man's waist, and fired 2 shots into the man, pausing slightly after each shot.

"you shoot at me I shoot back, ya mute motherfucker"

Two glocks were drawn from the terrorist, and the knife he threw at stevan was close to hitting him, but it flew past his shoulder. He raised his shotgun ready to fire, But then that girl that peri introduced him too, Eh-Sun?, intervined and started a fight with a man atleast three times her size.


As the fight ensued, punches were thrown, shots were taken, and stevan felt the need to take some action. His shotgun was raised to shoulder level, He looked down the barrel and layed his crosshair on the terrorist. He waited for eh-sun to take her shot, Before himself firing a hail of buck shot at him. He knew full well that it wouldent do much, peris ingram seemed to leave no mark, But maybe he could catch a leg or an arm? Whatever he did it would slow the big guy down.

Yet again stevan was the background character. Just watching and waiting for someone else to kill or be killed.

His leg moved to cover his special area as a male reaction to Eh-Sun's gun. The shots, instead, found their way into his left hip, missing the bone and burrowing holes in him. Air meant to be a cry of pain squeaked out of him. Fighting these kids was more of a challenge then he thought it would be. Or, maybe it was just that they were hiding behind their weaponry and in teams. McLocke could take any of them down one on one, even if one of them had an uzi or something like that, but when it was three against one, things became much more diificult. Should've been expected, really.

McLocke was knocked off of his feet with the force of the shotgun blast. It hit him dead-on in the torso. The kevlar, although it was one of the best of its kind, tore a little around his stomach. Blood plumed around the lucky shot, and McLocke winced. It wasn't a wince of pain, but of disappointment. Why wasn't he watching them closer?

He fired a shot off at Eh-Sun, turned to face Stevan better, and shot five shots out of his right hand gun.

So he likes knives does he?

The dagger thrown towards Peri wasnt as easy to dodge at stevans as Peri actually had to move from his place to avoid it as it whizzed past the blood stained side of his face as a blurr of metal at a hairs breath from his eye.

It was all good fun pushing someone around and taunting them but things changed the moment those handguns were drawn and the Ingram was raised again towards the face of the man. He knew why the man was standing, kevlar the same as he was wearing. Who else had the luck to get this rare commoditiy on the island?

His mouth opened to let out a angry remark when the sight of Choi who was clearly in trouble changed things and soon she would be hitting the dirt and so his anger would be avoided through the entertainment of the battle between the asian girl and the large military man.

He had his weapon raised always but he had no urge to use it as the show was bloody good although he did have the urge to shoot Stevan for firing off his s hotgun while standing right next to him. The terrorist toppled and Peri cursed.

"My fucking ears, why the fuck would you do that? she was dealing with that a-o-fucking kay you long haired schlong loving asshole.." he snapped with his own voice now ringing in his ears. Choi had her piece with the man, Stevan too now and so Peri had to give into peer pressure.

At leg level to the left of the terrorist he would squeeze the trigger of the weapon before yanking the weapon right sending a stream of bullets at leg level of the male. Unless he had kevlar kneepads then that would hurt and disable the man. Two more firearms and Two more melee and some camoflauge..This guy was a tressure trove of goodies.

He would listen to peris rant with gritted teeth. Now even blood boy was having ago, who next? jesus? He would start his own comeback as he shouted at peri. "You cunt face mother fuck....." It was stopped when one of those little pieces of metal embedded itself into the top part of his arm, causing him to sharply turn left and fall to the floor.

Luckily the rest went over his body as he fell, but he had now his first wound. This getting shot thing isnt as cool as everyone makes out to be. he would think as he grabbed the shotgun tightly. He would of fired but peri got there first, No point in firing and loosing another bullet.

He gripped his arm As the burning sensation followed, although the adrenaline raised his pain tolerance.
He looked up to peri as he held that ingram, sweet as ever, Small burst of smoke coming from the tip as he finished shooting.

God bless Blood Boy

Well. Mother of fuck.

Ingram boy raised his gun. Experience came in handy with the magician's next brilliant act. Come one, come all, watch the man outrun the fire line. McLocke's nostrils flared as his heart began to pound in his ears. He strode on powerful legs at athlete's speed, jerking his body every now and then to accelerate.

Within seconds he was up at Peri's face with a gun to his throat and stomach. It wasn't the most honorable act, but, hey, when it came down to it, you had to do things like these. All acts were fair game, even using one of the most simplest techniques to your advantage. They were kids, he was an adult with experience far beyond their years.

Grinning, he pressed the gun harder into Peri's throat, daring him or one of his "friends" to try something. A shotgun blast would be too fatal, and the girl? Nothing that she could do right now.

What's your next move, boys and girl?