Survival Of The Fittest

((B036- Benjamin Ward continued from Handoff))

"What's the status on the distance looking like?" Ben called out back to his group. Even when walking, they had a system. Ben always led the pack, box cutter in hand. Following Ben's lead, the one reading the map would be sandwiched in the middle. Following whoever was checking to make sure they didn't wander headfirst into a danger zone, the one in the rear carried the heavier supplies within their bag. It'd make sense for Ben to be the one carrying the heaviest load, given the years of football training adding to impressive musculature, but Ben needed to be agile and on his feet. Ben had no qualms delegating that job of pack mule to either Oscar or Janie.

Whoever was holding the map didn't really need to answer. As the trio approached the front steps of the building, it became clearly obvious as to where they were.

The bottom floor of the mall offered a multitude of supplies for them to scavenge. After wiping a thick layer of dust from the in-building map, Ben could make out a couple clusters of notable areas. The supermarket was an obvious must. Food was important, especially as the group ran low from their day four fund. But what Ben missed most were the unessential, quality of life types of objects. Was it absolutely necessary that Ben find a bottle of Axe brand cologne to chase the dank smell of sweat from his pits? No, but it certainly put him in a great, fucking mood to smell less like a pig.

The mall itself was functioning as normal. Despite the obvious amount of time that had passed and left the place abandoned (or should we say, mostly abandoned. Ben swore he saw a rat the size of a cat run by), everything seemed in place for them to scavenge. Adjacent to the entrance, someone in the group noted a luxury bedding store, Linens and Things. The other side revealed a supermarket. Even the kiosks sold some nice quality things. Some ritzy red wine facemask kiosk, which was far too feminine for Ben's tastes, provided a small snapshot of what life was like back home. Some bored, middle aged housewife was probably slathering this shit on her face, hoping to reverse the throws of time. If Ben could turn back time with this mask, maybe just seven days before this all started, then he'd be grabbing it by the fist full.

"Looks like we hit the jackpot guys.  Anyone opposed to making this our base?" Ben asked with insincerity; his mind was already made up. Stores offered great items for the taking. Ben was never a klepto, but in the reaches of one's mind, everyone fantasized about being able to run in and take whatever they wanted. It wasn't worth all the killing, fear and bloodshed of the island, but it was the little things that Ben had to get happy about.

Ben peeled out to a series of abandoned shopping carts. Resting at the front of the supermarket, Ben found that most, if not all of them had rusted over wheels. When he found the one cart spared from time, he pulled it forward and pushed it out. "I think this place is as good as any for the day. We can get some supplies here. Maybe even make some beds out of the sheets and pillows next door."

It wasn't home. Not by a long shot. But it was something.

(Oscar Trig continues from Handoff)

As Oscar panted his way towards the mall, shivering and dripping wet due to the rain, and carrying 20-30 pounds full of canned food and other miscellaneous objects on his back, along with his supplies, he wondered if he'd made the right choice joining this group.

From what few words they'd exchanged since two days ago, Oscar guessed that Janie was a pretty nice person. At least, she was much more tolerable than the leader of their group. How Benjamin got elected to the student council was anyone's guess. He didn't really seem to demonstrate any ideal qualities of being a leader. He sure as hell wasn't down-to-earth. In fact, it seemed like he got off on being the alpha male. Like he was their only hope, their salvation. Sure, they needed him now, Oscar had to admit that, but he wasn't the only person left who hadn't died or gone insane yet. There were still plenty of other people, and as soon as he got the chance, he'd join them.

But they hadn't seen anything else, so Oscar was stuck with them for the meanwhile. So far, he had managed to say only what he was asked to say. After all, not shutting up had brought him nothing but bad luck. But everyone had limits, and Oscar was reaching his. After a day of being delegated all of the dirty jobs, like crawling on all-fours and finding nothing except a box cutter, having to carry all these bags even though it was half his weight, and basically being used as a mule, he was drawing on his last reserves of patience.

So, he focused on the good things. On the scenery, even though he'd seen plenty of it in the past couple of days. As he entered the shopping mall, it reminded him of some of Zoe's paintings. Nature slowly creeping into concrete jungles, taking back what was theirs. It was a rather poignant idea, and it made him think of what the story was behind this place. There were plenty of things that told them certain details. The plastic eggs hidden in various places around the school, and the rusted cars and airplanes told them that this place had been left in a hurry. It also told him that this town used to be bustling. How the authorities hadn't recognized it through the cameras, he couldn't tell. It reminded him of Pripyat. It was this town in Ukraine that had been completely evacuated within two or three days. The people that lived there thought that they'd come back in a month or so, but they didn't. As it turned out, the town's main source of livelihood was the Chernobyl Power Plant.

As he thought of this, he worried for a few seconds that that was the same story for this island, and that they'd die of cancer or something. But then he brushed those thoughts away since the wildlife was still very much alive, and the terrorists wanted a good show. They wanted blood and guts, and while hair falling in clumps and people vomiting blood was certainly gruesome, it wouldn't exactly be the best show for them. Oscar certainly wouldn't give them a nice show, that was for sure.

On the bright side of things, he'd managed to accomplish two of his goals. He thankfully found his pencil and paper, and was going to scribble out the image of this lagoon he'd stumbled upon a few days ago as soon as he got the chance. Also, there was a kiosk selling cigarettes, so he got four or five packs of those. He wasn't really sure if cigars had an expiration date or not, so he decided to use up the cigarettes that he'd brought with him for Disneyland first.

After smothering the embers of flame with his shoes, he answered Benjamin. "Yeah, it's perfect. Look, I'm gonna go change because it's freezing and my clothes are soaked."

Without waiting for a reply, he wandered over to the Linens and Things store and stripped off his shirt nad jeans, leaving him standing in a pair of boxers. His skin was damp and clammy, and now was dotted with goosebumps, but at least the rain had washed off some of the dirt that had accumulated on his face. A cold wind blew through the mall. Along with the almost deafening roar of the rain, and what looked like a bloody pillow fort nearby, it was rather unsettling. Since he wasn't wearing much, it left him feeling vulnerable. Unsafe. He quickly replaced his clothes with another pair of jeans and a black shirt covered with a rainbow of colors, some of them part of the design, and some that were specks of paint.

((Janie Sinneave continues from Handoff))

Janie had taken responsibility for the map. She'd borrowed Ben's, given how hers was lost in the woods days ago, and had been the person directing them around the island and its various head exploding zones. At least, that was it in theory. In actuality, unless Benjamin was actually about to get his neck blown open by one of these zones, he just went wherever he wanted and stopped wherever they needed. Which was fine with Janie, at least, less work for her.

Oscar was a nice change of pace from the hotheadedness of Ben. He was calmer, easier to get along with, and she could talk about her troubles with him rather than bottling them up inside and releasing them at awkward moments, like back at the school. Oscar didn't talk much, just listened. Either way, Janie needed this release so badly. She told him briefly about her family, her friends, and what she wanted to do after she graduated. The latter-most subject was uncomfortable to think about, but it was something at least. If she were half a yard taller and half her weight heavier she probably would have helped him carry their stuff but as it stood she was neither of those things so she'd do more harm than good. She wasn't a girl scout who knew her maps, but she was doing the least amount of damage where she was in their group.

It felt odd how they'd never run into anyone else over the past few days. It was like they were in their own isolated little world, their own personal hell. To be perfectly honest she'd felt like that ever since Rebecca abandoned her at the school. There were no masked bad guys, no unknown elements to battle, just the three of them against each other. The uneasiness was felt by all, but especially so by Janie. She didn't like it. She hated being alone, especially after her horror story in the woods and it was at the point she'd do anything not to feel that way again. Even if a hothead like Benjamin was in the picture.

And now, sheltered from the icy rain thundering down on the roof outside, they were exploring a mall. The school proved there were children on this island, and now this place proved there was commercialism on this island too. Janie had never known such places existed, scattered around the oceans of the world. School was always filled with stuff she never planned on using in the real world, so there's a chance she missed it somewhere along the line.

Benjamin was set on making this place their home. Oscar agreed and wandered off into the Linen store, and after a while Janie nodded.

"Yeah, it looks good here."

Not much else to say. Benjamin sure as hell wasn't going to listen to her if she disagreed, she knew that much of him already. He'd made up his mind. After a few more seconds of silently standing around, she followed Oscar into the store. She wasn't really concerned with what he was up to, since he seemed to be changing in the corner. She did, however, notice the bloody pillow fort riddled with bullets. Tilting her head, she got down on her knees and took a closer look.

What didn't strike her first was the fact that somebody had probably died right in front of where she was kneeling. What struck her first was the fact that she was incredibly tired and she didn't realize it until looking upon a stack of pillows. God, what a thing, pillows. She never appreciated how awesome they were and how much they helped someone sleep until she'd had to spend the last week resting her head on her bag. She ran her hands across the collapsed fort wall in front of her and eventually pulled out the cleanest pillow. There was a splash of blood on it, but that was it. It had long since dried into a deep memory, but looking at it still made her tired as hell.

Holding that pillow in her hand, she wandered out of the store to where Benjamin was still scoping out the supermarket with a shopping trolley. She intended to follow him, since she sure as heck wasn't exploring a decrepit mall on her own without any means of defending herself. Benjamin wouldn't want her around while he did his thing, but she wanted to follow anyway.

But the pillow felt so soft in her hand...

Ben offered a weak smirk when his allies agreed. He obviously didn't expect any defiance, but it was still reassuring that they were still servant to his plans. The way Ben saw it, the longer they were alive, the more hope there was. Someone would have to go looking for these teenagers. People still searched for Jimmy Hoffa. Ben liked to think that a bulk of a senior class was weighted heavier than some mafia goon politician.

"Alright guys, lemme think of a game plan here." Ben took a second to mull over his plans. They could just go around and case the joint. But that chaos would just lead to disorder and weaken his leadership. Ben had to keep his group under his thumb better. Ben knew that they needed him to survive. They were weak. They weren't survival types. Ben was. Ben could get them out of there somehow. Guard them. What Ben couldn't admit to himself, or god forbid either of them, was how much he needed them to listen to him. He relished in the power he held over them. It was as close to home as he was going to get here.

Ben finally came up with a mental checklist. "We're gonna look for a few things. First we need to find a way to get warm. If we get sick here, we're fucked. The supermarket won't have a grill, but maybe we can find something else flammable and get a fire going." That was a start. Sitting around a fireplace could give the group some unity, or at the very least, a way to stave off pneumonia.

"Next we're looking for dry food. Jerky is the name of the game. Protein, salt, all that good stuff." Janie was a vegetarian, as far as Ben could recall her saying to Oscar earlier. Sorry, but we don't have time for that hippie bullshit. Ben had little patience for someone intentionally starving themselves. But then, he thought of an alternative. "Beans are good too. Lotta protein in those canned ones. Let's see if we can track down a couple."

He craned his head away from the cart. Both of them had wandered off without telling Ben, essentially leaving him with his thumb up his ass and talking to himself. While it wasn't surprising that the duo split off from Ben every so often, it did make Ben's job as the leader all the more difficult. Yet at the same time, he knew that they needed each other. He could cover their asses from the Hansel Williams's of their class, but survival wasn't solely a physical endeavor. Ben wasn't good at that emotional crap. He thrived purely through lasting another day with his group intact. Janie, as a girl, probably needed a gentler touch. A touch that Ben couldn't offer her. In that respect, Oscar was useful. More so than he was useful as a pack mule, at least.

The more Ben thought about it, the more both of them reminded him of Elaine. His sister was also the type that needed to be coddled and protected. A liability here was an endearing trait back home. As much as he hated weakness in others, their dependance on him wasn't an insignificant boost to Ben's ego.

He contemplated angrily yelling at them for leaving his side, but he figured that they could use the moment. Maybe they thought Ben was an asshole, but he wasn't a total monster.

Whatever they'd talked about in that store, Janie looked a lot worse off than Oscar. The girl's eyes looked glazed over and half-lit. Her glasses could barely contain the exhaustion that plagued the entire group. They were all exhausted, hungry, grumpy, whatever emotion you'd feel after hearing about a dozen of your classmates dying per day.  It wore on Ben too, but not as much as it wore on the sickly girl. "Shit, Janie. You don't look too good. You getting sick?"

That was about as much compassion as Ben could register.

Oscar vaguely understood what Ben was saying. He didn't really need to anyways. He was probably thinking up some plan, taking charge as usual. Restating the obvious. He just nodded in agreement even though he wasn't looking at him. Oscar then turned around and noticed Janie near Benjamin. He didn't hear much, but Ben sounded concerned.

Oscar ran over to the two and noticed Janie's expression. "Does she need anything?"

So it was really that noticeable, huh? Funny how Janie hadn't even noticed it herself until she saw that little reminder of what life should be like. Pillow clutched under her arm she nodded slightly as both Benjamin and Oscar showed concern over her growing state of drowsiness.

"No, it's-I'm okay guys, I just...god, I haven't had much sleep in ages, just....yeah." Janie mumbled. She shook her head slightly, as though it would help in keeping her awake. Instead she just felt dizzier. Janie was tired and it showed in her voice and movements. Her stomach felt tight and her eyes were a struggle to stretch open.

"So-uh, it...I...don't think anyone's been in that store for a while," Janie motioned over towards the store featuring Oscar's clothing and a bloody pillow fort. To be honest, Janie kind of wanted to check again, just to be sure that was all that was in that building. To be even more honest, Janie just wanted to sit on the only stretch of softness she'd seen in over a week. No matter how dusty, grotty, and possibly bloody it was.

"I can help you guys out later, with...with whatever, I just...just need to rest my eyes..." Janie muttered, and it would be the last they'd hear from her as she shuffled her graffiti converse across the tiling and towards the best looking rest area for miles; the carpeted back corner for Linens and Things. Whatever Benjamin needed to do, whatever Oscar needed to do and whatever they needed to do for all of them or for each other, they could sort it out for themselves. A few minutes later, Janie had grabbed a sheet that was floating around and was out for the count in the corner.

((Don't worry about it! You're doing fine.))

"Okay? You look like you're about to keel the fuck over." Sensitivity wasn't a strong suit of Ben's.  "No, you're going to get some sleep. You're not going to be useful to me if you're stumbling around."

She seemed to listen as she assigned herself to a small section of the bedding store, leaving Oscar and Ben to pick up her slack. "You better not get sick on me, neither. One load's enough." Ben callously expressed dissatisfaction. Ben wanted his football team. A group of hardy, tough guys would be apt at surviving until rescue came. Even if Hansel Williams, Mara Montalvo and Max Sawyer had all come at them at once, he knew his team could fight them off. This group wasn't ideal, but Ben supposed he could find a way to use Oscar Trig and Janie Sinneave.

Ben gripped the handle of the shopping cart and barreled in through the entryway of the supermarket. The assault of rotting produce and spoiled dairy on Ben's nose upon entering made him want to turn on his heel. Ben had been in some pretty dank locker rooms in his days back home, but the smell of decay and neglect brought up the rancid taste of vomit in Ben's mouth. "This place is fucking sick."

Ben marched onwards, swiping his cart alongside the first few aisles. If they wanted dog food, they were certainly in luck. A huge majority of the (people) food that this store once stocked was either taken during the initial clearance of the island, or had suffered from the lack of underpaid high school employees to refresh the shelves. Everything was just sitting there fermenting. Ben couldn't help it; he was going to puke.

"Oscar, take this." Ben shoved over the cart to him. Ben had the fortitude to last all of eleven minutes in the supermarket before his gag reflex had taken hold over him. Oscar seemed to have a lot less trouble with the smell. As far as Ben was concerned, Oscar was a man enough. He didn't need Ben to stand over him while he wandered around and stalked out some groceries.

Ben peeled out of the supermarket for a few brief moments in a vain attempt to regain his fortitude. His stomach had other plans. A rancid garbage can greeted him mere feet away from the supermarket entrance. Coagulated ketchup liquefied out of the basin of the can, matched in it's pungency by the smell of cheese being overcome with mold. He wasn't going to avoid it, was he?

Ben threw up. Ben threw up a whole lot. He emptied ingredients into that trashcan that they couldn't afford to lose. Vomit was a surrender of perfectly good supplies. A can's worth of corn, beans and peanut butter, a horrid amalgamation of acidic upchuck, was more that Ben's fair share of food wasted.

Ben wanted to wait outside, check on the gates maybe. Anything that kept him out of that supermarket. But then Oscar would have that on Ben. Where Ben pussied out, Oscar could brave the rotten scent of spoil. Ben couldn't let Oscar have that victory. He couldn't let anyone have that victory over him. He was Benjamin fucking Ward. He shrugged off offensive tackles on a daily. It would take more than rotten produce to knock him down.

"Let's just keep going. I don't wanna spend anymore time in here unless absolutely necessary." Ben groaned as he reentered the store, breathing carefully through clenched teeth.

Small talk was difficult to uphold with Oscar. They had no grounds of commonality. Ben was struggling to find some way to keep himself relevant. Oscar needed Ben, that was for sure, but other than that, what else did Ben know about the kid? He obeyed orders, and that was exactly what Ben needed him to do. But Ben could see how Oscar acted when with Janie than when they were all together. This was the first time they were one on one, and it was painfully quiet.

Knowing how the days worked around here, things wouldn't be quiet for very much longer.

Oscar's eyes furrowed in irritation for about a second. Useful? That was what Ben had to focus on? Oh well, at least he managed to keep up a facade of being concerned for at least a few seconds. Good for him. That's the only thing that matters. Not her well-being, but her usefulness.

He clenched his teeth. Don't say another word. Shut up. That's one of the rules, along with 'Don't be stupid', that'll get him though this island. If he only says what he needs to, only says what'll satisfy Ben, even for one more day, it'll be enough. Oscar will find a way out of this group soon enough. Or at least, to get away from Ben.

As soon as they entered the supermarket, Oscar noticed a pungent smell. It wasn't that unexpected, considering that this island had been abandoned for God knows how many years. Oddly enough, it wasn't that bad for him. Maybe he'd gotten a cold from walking in the rain, he didn't know. He'd walked past garbage cans that smelled worse than this. It surely didn't smell as bad as some of the bodies Oscar had seen while he was alone.

Ben was more adversely affected than Oscar, it seemed. After just a few minutes, he just left Oscar in the middle of the store, without even saying a word. Sure, Ben could act all tough and mighty and act like he owned the two, but as soon as he sniffed something bad, nope, too much, can't take it.

While Ben threw up in a garbage can, Oscar sent his shopping cart through the aisles and only found two packs of crackers, one loaf of stale bread, and some honey. Not much, but it was better than the maggot-infested pork in the meat section.

Eventually, Ben manned up and went back into the store. Oscar mentioned to him what he managed to salvage while he was gone, and then they just went on their way, without another word. Fine with Oscar. He wasn't too interested in chit-chat, especially with him.

They got out of the supermarket with the aforementioned supplies plus some canned food which had probably expired several years ago, a first-aid kit, tape, a flashlight, batteries (which he weren't sure would even work), cigarettes, and some oil pastels. When they went back to the Linens and Things store, they found that Janie was still asleep. Oscar looked over at Ben.

"Hey, anything else to do?"

Ben briefly studied the way that Janie was sleeping. She'd curled a spare sheet around her torso, cocooning herself childishly. Only the smallest tuft of green hair escaped the sanctuary of fabric that she'd contorted her body into. The rhythmic breathing skipped briefly, but then continued into a soft, consistent purr.

In a way, Ben was jealous. Janie and Oscar could sleep so soundly while they had Ben around. They might not have liked him, but Ben knew for a fact that they were the safest they'd ever been since Seattle when watched over by him. Of course, that safety was unreciprocated. In a fight, Ben knew how quickly Oscar and Janie would perish trying to defend the group. That scenario played over and over in Ben's head as he tried to sleep. Every rogue bird that landed on an adjacent twig, every rat that scurried across the floor, even the wind rapping at the windows were enough to wake Ben. Everything outside was Hansel Williams. Everything outside was Mara Montalvo. Everything outside was Benjamin Ward himself, determination and anger.

And here Janie could sleep. She trusted him so much. They both must have, surely they felt safe with Ben. He'd never considered the wants and desires of others much above his own in the past, but here he needed them to trust him. He needed people to follow him. What was a leader without faithful followers? Ben couldn't be alone again.

"See that gate?" Ben pointed upwards to the front of the store. Every mall store had that hulking metal gate that sectioned off the store at closing. The bars were sparse enough just to tease at what the store held inside, but not enough to enter through. It wasn't the Great Wall of China, but if the outside came in, Ben could buy them time for an assault.

"We're going to need to find out how to bring that down. Preferably even lock it." Ben thought back to the map they'd approached while walking in. Somewhere by the defunct Asian goods store, there was a security office. Security as in, the one with all the keys. "Let's go. I'm gonna see if the security left behind any keys. We could bring that gate down, lock it, and be safe until something better comes along."

The mall wasn't a fortress, but it was the best they had now. Ben was going to defend it.

But, perhaps, it was already too late.

The sounds of gunfire was a strange phenomenon to Ben. He'd played shooting games from time to time. Hearing the bark of gunfire in the game was second nature. If anyone had been prepared for war, Ben would have considered himself the prime guy.

Why was it, that when the shooting erupted from the floor above them, that Ben's heart stopped? His face went pallid. His palms ran rancid with cold sweat. Ben had stayed alive through avoiding conflict and securing themselves for waiting out the violence. How was he supposed to react when violence found them.

"Get down!" Ben called out at Oscar who'd trailed behind him. They now stood directly outside of the Linens and Things store. Oscar could easily trail his way back in and hide behind the mountains of pillows and blankets. Ben was out in the open. All Ben could think to do was duck and cover within a small kiosk. Someone would come by with a loaded gun. The box cutter that imprinted it's textured frame into Ben's white knuckled grip failed to measure up.

Go away. P-Please go away.

((Katarina Konipaski continued from Credit Default Swap))

Katarina descended the stairs to the lower level, her heart still pounding, streaks and splashes of blood drying over her skin and between the threads of her shirt. With every step she glanced around herself, but the shades and the vigilantes haunting the corners of the building seemed only to exist in her imagination. The butt of the scythe thumped dully over the ground as she reached the bottom step and stopped, leaning on it, letting her brow twitch and sweeping back a wisp of hair from her face. It was an unexpected, frustrating, borderline frightening sort of fatigue that dulled her movement and worked her breathing into a steady pant. It would pass before long, of course, but the fact remained that fighting involved a surprising level of exertion, and as fit and fed as she was, poor sleep and a host of other things made such exertion quite unwelcome.

She stared up at the crescent blade hanging gore-stained above her bowed head. Rivulets of blood ran down to the tip and around the wooden handle. Tiny bubbles slid over a film of slippery blood and popped into tiny flecks that landed on her shirt or disappeared as they fell. She hated to do it, but it really was just a bit too much. The bags on her shoulders, the weapons stowed inside them, the remaining half of her ammunition secreted in her pockets, together they had to weigh a couple dozen pounds already at the very least. A matter of energy. Of practicality. It seemed like betrayal to give up the weapon that had given her so much, maybe (she felt an unpleasant sort of lurch in her stomach) that defined her to those who were paying attention to it all. But her energy was precious, her ability to maim and kill undiminished with the little weapon she'd looted at range or up close. And the thing had to weigh twenty-five pounds, probably even more.

The rain would greet her outside, but she didn't want to stay in that building any longer. There were other places with roofs, and they'd likely prove less nerve-wrackingly voluminous and complex, she thought. Even as she straightened up and glanced around she swore she could hear the echoes of whispers or watch the briefest flickers of movement in the corner of her eye. Real or imagined, she really wasn't in the mood to find out.

With a clatter that sent her heart pounding anew, the scythe hit the hard, tiled floor. She looked around once more as she strode to the nearest exit, and then ducked out through the door in search of safer shelter.

((Katarina Konipaski continued in Drawing to an End))

Each step the stranger made broke down on Ben's nerve. Where was Ben's courage, his strength? Once he'd been so brave when dealing with the catastrophe on Day 2. God, that seemed like forever ago. Back when there were only eight kids dead. Ben tried not to pay too much attention to the dead, just their killers, but Ben knew the numbers of innocent classmates dwindled. Their ranks being replaced by ruthless, psychotic killers, barely recognizable as students that Ben wandered past in the hallways.

The girl with the fiery red hair was no exception. Ben barely knew her name, Kat Konipaski, yet she was responsible for so much terror. It wasn't fair. The girl was barely the width of his forearm, yet she'd managed to get her hands on a gun, eliminating any sense of fairness in this whole fucked up system. Ben could have survived easily if he'd had a gun. No one in their right mind would fuck with him. The operative word was "the right mind," as sanity seemed to be a rare luxury as the days progressed. As far as Ben was concerned, everyone outside of his group was crazy.

The girl veered towards his kiosk. Ben didn't dare to peer out to see just how close the girl was. Did she see him? Ben violently shut his eyes and staunched his breathing. His chest cried out in pain, begging for air. Thankfully only he could see hear spastically his heart tremored. The steps continued. Her could hear her labored breathing. She had given someone chase. The victim must have thought that they could escape the hail of gunfire. Ben knew better. Not even he could outrun a bullet.

Mom, Dad, Elaine. I was going to make you all proud. Ben lamented that he'd never get the chance to make his family proud. He lamented that he'd never make himself proud. He prepared for certain death as best he could. He'd offered a weak prayer to God. Ben would have called him a dick for putting him there in the first place, but Ben wanted to get on God's good side. If he had to die here, there had better be heaven awaiting him after all this.

The footsteps got quieter. And quieter. Then, a welcome sound; the front door craned open. Ben had a reprieve. A stay of execution. Mercy.

Cautiously, Ben peered his head up over the kiosk. Not a soul in sight. The girl he'd caught seconds of with a quick glimpse was long gone. The only proof that she'd ever been there was the grotesque scythe she'd left behind. It looked cumbersome for most to wield, heavy blade, decently long wooden shaft, but the blood that garnished the entirety of the weapon was proof that the girl figured out how to use it anyway.

Everything's clear. Ben had to remind himself ten times before he braved stepping out from the kiosk.

Out of safety, he'd checked the front entrance before walking over to the scythe. The weight felt nice in his hand. Evenly distributed, long enough for him to comfortably grip. He'd cursed Katarina's arrival moments earlier, but now he could almost thank her for her contribution. Almost.

Ben was dragging the blade over his thigh, clearing off some of the fresh blood, when he noticed his companion step out of his hiding place.

"Oscar. Glad you're okay." Ben tucked the wooden handle's thick girth into his belt loop. In the way that cowboys carried pistols to their side, Ben's new scythe hung by his side, blade pointed backwards.

"See what I mean about defense? That bitch came outta nowhere and nearly capped us. We gotta get serious about defense." Ben looked around the store. The front would need to be barricaded, their store would need to be locked up. All the entrances only invited death. Ben wasn't sure how many more times they could escape it.

Defense was the new name of the game. Avoidance was the first version. Now they needed to up their planning. Ben took out the box cutter from his jean pocket. The blade was wimpy and ineffective in comparison to the new weapon he commandeered. He didn't need it. "Oscar, here."

Ben handed the box cutter to Oscar. After a brief period of deliberation, he added the following. "Give that to Janie. We need to defend ourselves, and she's too scrawny to fight back with just brawn alone." Ben thought he was being considerate. Oscar would just get the next best thing they found. It all seemed so fair to Ben.

Oscar was tempted to say 'OK, boss' every time Ben spoke, because that's what they were, right? Ben was their boss, and they were his servants, his assistants. Before he could continue on this train of thoughts, gunshots cracked through the air. Without registering what Ben said, he immediately dived down behind a bed, unsure of where the other two were.

Suddenly, there was so much to say and do. Oscar wasn't ready. He was thinking of a plan, any plan, to get out of this situation, but all of them were half-baked, not viable. He was trapped, and he had no weapon.

The seconds stretched into minutes. The already-cold air became freezing, and Oscar was paralyzed. The only sounds to be heard were the sound of blood rushing in his head, his heart beating, and that dull thump. He didn't dare look up to see who it was. All he knew was that she or he was dangerous. At the same time, there was so much, yet so little to do. He wanted to say his final goodbyes, to have some more chit-chat with Janie, maybe to make things alright between him and Ben, to get out of this place, anything but lie here without a chance. But it was impossible.

The silence was so absolute that when that something clattered onto the floor, and the footsteps came back, he almost shouted. But his voice caught in his throat, thankfully. He waited for a few more seconds before he dared get up.

Nothing. The coast was clear.

Oscar's heart was still pounding in his chest. His breathing was still rapid and his eyes were wide open when he heard Benjamin.

For a moment, just a moment, Oscar smiled as he received the box cutter. It wasn't much, but if, no, when something like this happened again, he'd at least have a chance. No more being helpless. Besides, he found it. It was only right. Ben wasn't finished however.

It was a small thing, and yeah, they could find some other weapon for him, but Oscar had been on his last nerve for a while, and this was the straw on the camel's back. It was obvious that he wasn't appreciated here, so why bother trying to put with him? Janie was fine, and maybe the two could stand each other for a little longer, but not Oscar.

With the box cutter in hand, he started walking towards the exit of the mall without a single word being said. No goodbyes, no final comebacks, because that was the rule. Don't say what you don't need to say.

And then there was nothing. No words that said, "Yes, Ben, I'll get right on that." No paralanguage that conveyed obedience through a simple nod that said, "Got it." Oscar didn't even give Ben an acknowledging outburst of anger. Oscar's face was as blank as a canvas as he simply gave up and walked right past Ben.

Ben stood static, his brain still trying to process what the hell was going on. Ben could deal with debate. Student council prepared him to tear apart any combatant. Did they propose a new idea? Ben could come up with three reasons why they were wrong in seconds flat. Did they want to take budget away from some club? Ben could figure out why each penny was necessary for the club. All these powers of callous debate, and here he stood, still as a statue.

"Just where the fuck do you think you're going?" Ben's voice traveled towards Oscar, when his legs wouldn't.

Nothing.

"H-Hey. I'm talking to you. Get the hell—" Ben's voice trailed off as Oscar gained distance, barely acknowledging Ben's increasingly angry tone. Oscar may have turned back all of one time, giving an exhausted look, before turning his body towards the exit.

He's leaving us? After all I did for that little shit?

Ben's legs unlocked from the stasis brought by shock. Confusion, bewilderment and disbelief dashed off to the side, replaced by Ben's characteristic raging hatred. Fury powered him as he propelled himself a good distance, taking a charge towards the exit. Oscar's fingertips mere inches from the door, when Ben's body craned in between defiance and freedom.

"You have three fucking seconds to tell me what the hell you think you're doing." Ben pointed his index finger towards Oscar's brow, threateningly close to his eyes. "I do all this work to keep you alive, and you're going to puss out and walk away? What kind of fucking loyalty is that?"

Fuck him. Ben slept mere hours while Oscar and Janie had it so easy. Oh, Ben was an asshole, boo fucking hoo. Someone had to keep them running. Janie and Oscar had time to listen to each other's sob stories only because Ben kept them alive. They ate the best they had in almost a week because Ben knew how to find them supplies. He knew where to find shelter from the rain, so they wouldn't get soaked. So if Ben had to be the asshole that got results, he was still getting them goddamn results.

"Fuck you Oscar." Ben hissed, spitting his venom right at Oscar's face. "If it wasn't for me, how long do you really think you'd be here? I'm a great fucking leader, but when I get mean, suddenly all that is in the garbage? Screw you."

Ben took a breath. The silence was only cut by Ben's deep exhale.

"Look. You're probably fucking mad at me because I won't let you keep your little toy. This isn't fucking kindergarten, Oscar. I'm making you give that to Janie because she needs something to protect herself with. You're a guy, at least you have slightly better odds at surviving without a weapon. Be patient and I'll get you something." Ben's last-ditch effort at diplomacy with Oscar wouldn't go well.

Especially not as Oscar held out the box cutter; four inches of steel never seemed so terrifying. "P-put that shit away." Ben's voice dropped down to an unfamiliar level. Fear.

Anger was an emotion that Ben could deal with. Unpredictability was what really terrified him. Everything had gone well for them before this second. What changed?

Oscar was tired by the time he started leaving. All of Ben's insults, demands, threats. They had become background noise at this point. He wasn't scared anymore. He wasn't angry, not even annoyed. Just exhausted. He was a few steps away from the door, just an arm's dista-

What the fuck.

It took him a few seconds to process what was happening. Ben was supposed to be back at the kiosks, not in front of him, blocking him, how, no, what was going on.

Eventually, it registered. Oscar was usually a very logical person. That was why he had put up with being belittled for so long. It was the best choice at the time and, yeah, maybe he was scared. Who wouldn't be? And Oscar had tried his best to keep quiet, he really did. But silence was just unbearable, so he tried doing the next best thing. The discord between the two was too much, it would never work out. It would've been better to just walk away than to drag this on any longer. But now, this had been deprived from him.

At that moment, Oscar thought with his heart, not his head.

He didn't actually intend to do anything with it. Oscar hadn't lost himself that much. Just intimidation. That was all he needed.

With the box cutter pointed at Ben, Oscar only said one thing.

"Get out of the way."

((GMing approved by Maraoone))

"No."

Ben tried. He tried so hard to save Oscar and Janie out of the lingering tattered shreds of goodness in the depths of his reserves of humanity. Ben may have been tough, he may have been callous, but deep down he did try to care about Oscar's life. It was what made this betrayal painful to Ben.

Ben put his hands up in defiance. Every being of his body was rejecting Oscar's exit. Out of fear of the box cutter, but also in retaliation for being left. Ben didn't get passed over from some twig. Ben resisted every urge to ditch them out of kindness, and this was the repayment?

"You're not walking out here you scrawny ass motherfucker."

He didn't mean it.

Oscar still resisted, aggressively waving the blade at Ben. He'd been so concerned that the outside threat was going to tear them apart. How could Ben have predicted this?

"Get the fuck out of my face, you fucking load."

He didn't mean it.

The fact remained that the slick, sharp edge was still pointed at Ben. With each increasing interval of rage, Oscar's agitation rose. The blade stood stoically pointed at Ben; the distance decreasing between the sharp edge and Ben's throat was yet another constant reminder how their group had fucked up.

Ben had come close to death one too many times this last week. He could get over Joachim Lovelace pointing a gun at him; he could get over the rain of gunfire from Katarina Konipaski. He was tired of passively resisting death. No one got to decide when Ben died. Especially not scrawny ass Oscar Trig.

"Fuck you man."

With that, Ben pushed back. Ben's hands extended forward, grasping hold of Oscar's forearms. His palms were large enough to wrap around the majority of Oscar's arms. Despite how Oscar resisted, the grip was resolute. Ben had enough. He pushed back, throwing his superior weight and musculature against the boy's svelte, lithe build. It was easy to see who would win in this scenario.

Oscar skidded across the linoleum floor of the mall. A painful, shrill screech indicated Oscar's futile attempts to catch himself from being launched across the floor. The screech came to a dramatic, sudden stop as Oscar laid static on the ground.

Ben was ready for Oscar to get up and retaliate. Ben was ready for a fight.

He wasn't ready to see the box cutter, a weapon that drew out so much fear moments earlier, imbedded in Oscar's throat. He wasn't ready to smell the copper tinged arid stench of blood that rapidly filled the air. He wasn't ready to hear the horrible sound of Oscar's panicked breaths, staunched by the blade lodged into his throat.

Ben wasn't a murderer. He was a leader. He was supposed to get them all out of there, somehow. Waiting it out until rescue came. Ben wanted to keep them safe. But here Oscar was laying, sprawled out on the ground, blood pooling around him.

He didn't mean it.