Survival Of The Fittest

((Continued from Forever Falling: Part I))

Busting into the doors of the hospital, a disgruntled Paris ran through the empty white hallways looking for some kind of escape from his brother Andy.  Voices of his brother seeped into his head, tormenting the boy even more; "Paris what are you running from?" "Do you think you can hide from your little brother?" "Don't you want to see me again?" A screech of sneakers ripped thorugh the air, as Paris pounded the metal stairs; asending towards the top of the building. He had to get away.....His brothers voice pounded in his brain, it like like his head was about to detonate at any second. I need to get away.....Get away..... Paris' mind started to crack, however it has not completley shattered just yet. His character had been imprisoned and now his mind had produced this desperate persona, he looked like a total freak! But physical apperances, dignity, or pride didn't matter now. Paris' concern was to get away and block out that terrible voice that continued to shred his sanity to pieces. The strile halls didn't seem to end but stretch into an infinite prospective; as paris turned a conor he came to sudden halt as the appearance of Brittany Ashworth appeared in the middle of the hall. She looked normal, well before the boy puncutred a raw hole through her throat. "Heya Paris, long time no see...." she said with a smile as she started to walk toward him.

A wild eyed Paris pointed his knife at Brittany, covering his mouth with a trembling hand. "I-It can't be......Y-Your dead......." he stuttered, the hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end. His heart raced, blood pumped swiftly through his many veins; spreding to various places in his body. "What? Dead? Oh I know....I have you to thank for it." Paris almost tripped over himself as he stumbled backword, Brittany was the first person he killed in this dire game. He found her in the lobby of the hotel, that was the first time he had shedded blood. He suddenly remembered the constant sea of blood pouring from her mouth and neck area, he shuddered at the memory. What have I done...? Paris had turned into some kind monster, sure he was a smartass at school but killing people? The Gossip King's motto was to use words as your weapon not actual knives! The boy whipped around and headed in another direction, up the stairs and into another labyrinth of hallways. Paris' head turned in different directions, looking for a root to sanity. Unfortunatley on the next floor his head turned directly into the eyes of Preston Grey. Immediatley the floor lost a grip of the boys legs, and he ended up on the ground bewildered at the calm apperance of the boy. "Well looky here.....Didn't think you'd run into me now did yea?" Paris scooted away from him, he didn't want to be near the phantasm that has materialized in front of him.

Paris had a run in with preston when he took Anna Dibenidettinna hostage. He let her go in exchange for his fake water gun, and so as punishment the boy thrusted his knife into the boys crotch. A painful death that demeans the life of any male humanoid. Quickly getting up the boy began to run away from Preston, he breathed heavily as the air thickened on him. "You can run but you can't hide!" he called with a light smirk. The boy had just about had it with running into the past, up another floor Paris went running and running. His legs felt tired and ached under his emotional weight carried around in his head. He couldn't  run for much longer, their catching up to him rapidly. He wouldn't be able to escape....But I must... Sprinting up another stairwell a sudden voice was heard in the back of him. Turning around Busting into the doors of the hospital, a disgruntled Paris ran through the empty white hallways looking for some kind of escape from his brother Andy.  Voices of his brother seeped into his head, tormenting the boy even more; "Paris what are you running from?" "Do you think you can hide from your little brother?" "Don't you want to see me again?" A screech of sneakers ripped thorugh the air, as Paris pounded the metal stairs; asending towards the top of the building. He had to get away.....His brothers voice pounded in his brain, it like like his head was about to detonate at any second. I need to get away.....Get away..... Paris' mind started to crack, however it has not completley shattered just yet. His character had been imprisoned and now his mind had produced this desperate persona, he looked like a total freak! But physical apperances, dignity, or pride didn't matter now. Paris' concern was to get away and block out that terrible voice that continued to shred his sanity to pieces. The strile halls didn't seem to end but stretch into an infinite prospective; as paris turned a conor he came to sudden halt as the appearance of Brittany Ashworth appeared in the middle of the hall. She looked normal, well before the boy puncutred a raw hole through her throat. "Heya Paris, long time no see...." she said with a smile as she started to walk toward him.

A wild eyed Paris pointed his knife at Brittany, covering his mouth with a trembling hand. "I-It can't be......Y-Your dead......." he stuttered, the hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end. His heart raced, blood pumped swiftly through his many veins; spreding to various places in his body. "What? Dead? Oh I know....I have you to thank for it." Paris almost tripped over himself as he stumbled backword, Brittany was the first person he killed in this dire game. He found her in the lobby of the hotel, that was the first time he had shedded blood. He suddenly remembered the constant sea of blood pouring from her mouth and neck area, he shuddered at the memory. What have I done...? Paris had turned into some kind monster, sure he was a smartass at school but killing people? The Gossip King's motto was to use words as your weapon not actual knives! The boy whipped around and headed in another direction, up the stairs and into another labyrinth of hallways. Paris' head turned in different directions, looking for a root to sanity. Unfortunatley on the next floor his head turned directly into the eyes of Preston Grey. Immediatley the floor lost a grip of the boys legs, and he ended up on the ground bewildered at the calm apperance of the boy. "Well looky here.....Didn't think you'd run into me now did yea?" Paris scooted away from him, he didn't want to be near the phantasm that has materialized in front of him.

Paris had a run in with preston when he took Anna Dibenidettinna hostage. He let her go in exchange for his fake water gun, and so as punishment the boy thrusted his knife into the boys crotch. A painful death that demeans the life of any male humanoid. Quickly getting up the boy began to run away from Preston, he breathed heavily as the air thickened on him. "You can run but you can't hide!" he called with a light smirk. The boy had just about had it with running into the past, up another floor Paris went running and running. His legs felt tired and ached under his emotionakl weight carried around in his head. He couldn't  run for much longer, their catching up to him rapidly. He wouldn't be able to escape....But I must... Sprinting up another stairwell a sudden voice was heard in the back of him. "Where do you think your going?" Turning around Darren Oaklan stood leaning on the ramp of the stairwell. A screaming Paris flailed his arms as he continued his tormenting journey thorugh the hospital. Paris finished Darren by slamming a Christmas Star into his head, not a pretty sight. It was back at the residential area where he saw Garry for the first time on the island. Christmas didn't seem so jolly anymore, as it never was in the Persphone household. Andy, Brittany, Preston, and Darrens voices pulsated through his body. Slamming sharp spires thorugh the pores of his skin, it was painful, it was stressful, it was killing him!

Finally Paris had reached the top of the hospital, one more set of doors and he'd be out on the roof. But as soon as he started running the image of Licinia Vinici appeared adjusting her classes. "You fucking bastard......You'll pay....." The Gossip King shut his eyes tightly and ran foreward and ran through the image of Licinia became transparent. The doors to the roof opened with a heavy blow as Paris stumbled, falling to the ground. Turning around all those who had killed his sanity appeared but this time in a distorted way. Brittany lumbered with blood flowing from the punctured hole in her neck; Preston had a fleshy puss leaking from his crotch area, Darren with a star slammed thorugh his head, and lastly Licinia Vinci with bleeding chest. All of them encircled Paris, moaning from the searing pain the boy had caused them. And then the ringleader of this vengeful souls came forth, his brother Andy. He had a slashed red throat, and appraoched with those black eyes. Paris stood up, and pointed his knife at these twisted memories. "Stay back! I'll kill you all! I swear!" "You'll join us soon, just you watch..." "No!" Paris scooted back getting toward the edge of the hospital, his brigade of enemies getting closer and closer. "Its time for you to pay for all the things you've done..." "STAY BACK!" he screamed "There will be no mercy for you......." "I said stay BACK!!!!!!!!!!" And that was it, the ground ended and paris tipped backwords, falling toward the open air. Andy and company stopped as they witnessed Paris, tumbling backwords, free falling yoward the cement ground. "AHHHHHH!!!!!" A wild scream tore through the sky, and all that Paris could see was the smirk on his little brothers Andys face. Falling, thats all the Gossip King could remembered as he sored through the air, guiding him to the deepest bowels of death. ANdys eyes burned holes in Paris', he screamed as he continued to fall, fall, and fall. There was no stop, the wild sensation of death wrapped around him as he continued to fall. The shadows exploded into flames and engulfed the boys body, as another scream echoed thorugh the forever falling abyss.

And that was the end of Paris Persphone.

MALE STUDENT NO. 7 - PARIS PERSPHONE - DECEASED

Garry arrived at the hospital, cheerily singing the tune of John Lennon's Imagine as he slowly followed Paris. It was a relatively calm place, no corpses visible in the immediate area. He called for the other boy (Damien) to catch up to him. Garry scanned the area, looking for Paris. Wait...What's this? Garry looked around the corner of the hospital to find a very dead Paris Persephone. Dead? He's dead? Garry's eyes lit up. So the fucker finally gave up. It seemed like he'd jumped off of the top of the building, but the look of sheer horror frozen onto his face suggested something else. Perhaps he had changed his mind on the way down? Hah. It was sad, really. "Well well well...Guess who's still alive?!" Garry asked the corpse in a sing-song tone. "ME! You're dead, i'm still standing here! You were pathetic. Although I admit, Paris, you were quite a bit more successful on this island then I was. Until you died."

Garry looked closely at Paris. Most of his bones were broken, his neck had been snapped like a toothpick. But he was still mostly intact. "Mind if I collect a little...Trophy?" Garry gingerly crouched down towards Paris' lifeless body, and very calmly pulled out his knife. He began viciously tearing away at Paris' neck, blood pooling over the ground from his freshly pulverized body. At last, Garry pulled Paris' head from his shoulders, a small piece of his spine dangling out. But he was not finished yet. Garry used the knife to pop Paris' eyes out of their sockets. He cut away at the skin, carefully severing the muscles and tendons. Within minutes, all that was left was a bloody skull, small pieces of sinew dangling off of it; Paris' brain had been messily ripped out. Garry threw the knife to the ground, and let out a scream befitting of a prehistoric barbarian. "I WIN, PARIS!  I WIN!!!"

((Continued from Part 1, Residential District))

Damien Carter-Madison had been eagerly tagging along with this giant since the residential district. The light was still fairly low out, meaning it was also pretty cold. The androgynous child was shivering in his rather androgynous clothing, though his women's denim jacket meant he didn't shiver nearly as much as he did when he wore the now-tattered rag that now formed the sling for his barbed-wire Louisville Slugger. The relatively little added weight of the Magnum bullets that filled his cargo jeans pockets along with the "prize bag" that now substituted his daypack kept him fairly steady.

At least with the breeze blowing in his direction he didn't have to worry about his hair blowing in his face.

All this time, he had tried as much as possible to keep a relaxed aim on what he hoped was his future prey that he sometimes forgot where he was actually going. It wasn't hard to do given Garry Dodd's size. In fact, amidst the strain placed on his left arm by the sheer weight of the Colt Anaconda, he had managed to temper his grip so he didn't have to worry about unexpectedly pulling the trigger until he felt the time was right. Still, his arm was getting tired and he couldn't do it forever.

Damien felt a sense of déjà vu as they approached the building despite the fact that he didn't remember even stopping at this humble complex. Instead, he felt like someone he knew very well had been here before, but he couldn't put a name on it, even from from those on his list who were already dead.

Going around the building, Damien felt the need to look through one of the windows. In the low light, he managed to spot what appeared to be a very large corpse sprawled across the floor of one of the rooms. It wasn't a very pretty sight...in the traditional sense. It was definitely something that put a smile on Damien's face...and a good sense of foreboding into his mind. Speaking of corpses, it wasn't long before they encountered a more fresh one sprawled across the hospital's front lawn. Judging by Garry's reaction, this looked to be the same person he'd seen bolting from the scene at the Residential district a short time ago.

The sight of Garry's extraction of the once-running-man's head made Damien giggle like a little girl. For a moment there he almost felt like a girl whose boyfriend just won her the top-prized stuffed toy at a carnival game. From the perspective of someone like Roland - or rather, Nicole Carter-Madison - Damien was like that little devil encouraging the giant to continue on his bloody, sinful rampage. Speaking of bloody, sinful rampages, a close inspection of the corpse as it was disfigured gave him a new impression.

Were it not for the apparent disfigurations of falling from the roof of this building, Damien figured the boy would have been one of the beautiful people...just like those on his list. Hell, it even started to bother him that the now-dismembered prettyboy in front of him had killed himself instead of letting Damien do the honors of putting him out of his misery. Why the hell was this giant plundering the corpse and taking away his honor?! But Damien realized he was getting lost in his own thoughts, and quickly shook his head before looking around.

Shout, shout, Let it all out
These are the things I can do without,
Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

Noticing there was certainly nobody else around, and that his gun was still cocked, Damien decided to resume his own, bloody sinful rampage. He raised his arm and took aim in the dead center of the giant's chest, no difficult task.

In violent times,
You shouldn't have to sell your soul...
In black and white...
They really really ought to know...

Even though even he couldn't hear himself over Garry's scream, Damien was still giggling as he pulled the trigger. The sound the gun emitted as the Magnum exited the barrel would've easily dwarfed the scream.

Those one track minds,
That took you for a working boy...
Kiss them goodbye,
You shouldn't have to jump for joy...

((*Dan Johnson, killed by Roland Kelly))

Garry had no sooner collected his "trophy" when a resounding boom broke his scream. He felt like someone had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer. He fell forward, dropping the gristly remains of Paris' head onto the ground beside him. "What the hell...?" Garry stared in bewilderment as he saw the other boy standing a short distance away from him, Colt Anaconda in hand.

Garry could feel the life running more quickly out of his body, in addition to the wound he had recieved from Paris. The massive bullet had pierced his thigh, ripping through his skin and spewing blood all over the pavement. It was excruciatingly painful, but Garry didn't have time for pain. As powerful as he could be, there was no chance he could stand up to a gun. Not a fucking chance.

Of course, he still had a knife. And a throwing arm. Ignoring the hole in his side, he grabbed the massive knife and threw it as hard as he possibly could at the gun-weilding boy before breaking off into a run. Towards the cliffs, he would go. There was no way the other boy was going to kill him. Not like this, anyways...No, there were many more interesting ways to die besides being shot. Paris Persephone was a testament to that.

He could only wonder where he would hide, or even if he could survive the amount of blood he was about to lose. Quite strangely, he remembered the lyrics to a song he had heard some time ago...


They didn't quit, they wanted his head
RA RA RASPUTIN
Russia's greatest love machine
And so they shot him till he was dead

Just like Grigori Rasputin, he had survived much. However, after Rasputin was shot, stabbed, beaten and castrated, he was thrown into a ice-cold river, and drowned. Would he suffer the same fate? Hopefully the other boy would just shoot him...No fucking way he'd want to have his dick cut off, dead or alive.

((Continued in Anticlimax))

Damien wasn't surprised in the least when his shot connected. The sight of freshly-spurting blood was - for the next few seconds - utter and pure beauty to him, like a blossoming flower. Had it lasted enough...or even better, had he actually hit a more important spot other than the giant's rear end...he would have been in a state of murderous ecstasy.

That said, the condition lasted until he realized that a rather large knife had been thrown at him, and that realization came as soon as the knife had half-embedded itself in the meat of its shoulder. It didn't go too deep, but it was hellishly (and not the "good" hellishly) painful, causing Damien to scream like a small wounded animal and recoil in pain. His affected hand tensed its grip on the shield hard enough that he could feel his fingernails making little pressure slits in his palms. His other hand dropped the gun and made for the knife, removing it almost as violently as it came in. The knife went into one of his side pockets, tearing through the pocket fabric but thankfully not into his thigh flesh.

Shout, shout, Let it all out
These are the things I can do without,
Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

Blood was already soaking through the denim jacket, the only layer of clothing covering his arm (underneath it was the top half of a sports 2-piecer). He grasped the wound, letting some of the blood mark his hand before bringing it around and looking at it.

The wound had definitely stopped him from giggling.

And ironically, the wound had caused him to start laughing. Even if he had managed to spot the giant limping away as fast as he could.

"Come here..." he groaned, his androgynous voice having hints of a cackle as he slowly stooped to pick up his gun, which currently rested on the grass, "I forgot to give you the rest of your present..."

With gun and shield in hand and a twisted smile on his face to compliment his now jarred-open eyes, Damien started after the limping giant. He started with a walk...which turned into a slow jog.

They gave you life,
And in return you gave them hell...
As cold as ice,
I hope we live to tell the tale...
I hope we live to tell the tale...

It wasn't as if he'd really lose someone so big, especially when he was leaving behind a very visible trail. Damien definitely didn't look back at the building whose original purpose had been so defiled.

Shout, shout, Let it all out
These are the things I can do without,
Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

((Continued in Anticlimax))