Survival Of The Fittest

Fuckin eh! My god damn head hurts. Both of them

Kyle awoke with the combined feeling of being kicked in the head and in the nuts. It wasn't the world's most pleasent feeling ever, but he'd get over it. After all, he is a soccer player. He gets kicked all the time, and fights through it.

Unlike those fucking Italians. That fucker took a dive on the headbutt from Zidaine.

Setting aside his thoughts of the soccer world, Kyle slowly stood up to observe his surroundings. He found himself inside a small building in what appeared to be a rather large industrial area. The area was massive, as different buildings scattered across the grounds seem to go on forever. At the far end of the line of buildings, there appeared to be the still smoking remainants of a building, which appeared to have exploded.

Damn I'm a good sleeper to have not heard that. Rizea thought to himself.

Kyle then noticed the daypack that had been set near him. He carefully opened it up and removed the manual Mr. Danya had provided. As he read he remembered a day where he been surfing the net, and someone linked him a video to some scenes from a game where kids were killing each other. Apparently, Kyle had just found himself in that very game.

Now I find myself with a tough choice. On one hand, I could play this game like a pussy and try to just make friends. The positive in that, is that the group dynamic can allow for easily manipulated minds. The downside is that I'm not sure if anyone is dead yet, so my list of possible friends, is quite vague at the moment. On the other hand I could play this game like a man and kill some people. The upside to that is I could win the game, while gaining some international exposure. The downside, is that I could make enemies, and if I piss off the wrong person, I'm as likely to die as anyone. Decisions, decisions. Ah fuck it, I may as well shoot someone before I die. Now what kind of gun did I get?

Kyle then put his manual back into the bag and began rummaging through it. His long and pale fingers searching for the cold steel of a gun. His hands eventually came into contact with some metal, but it wasn't a gun.

Binoculars? What the fuck am I supposed to do with these, look at the person to death? Well, looks like I'm gonna have to find some moron with a gun to steal

It was then that Kyle felt the rain coming down.

You know...maybe I'll wait until this passes to venture out. In the mean time, may as well see how well these glorified glasses work.

With that, Kyle began scouting around the area he was in.

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Rob stumbled on to the grounds of the Industrial Yard, trying to scamper for cover from the rain. Matty and Anna wer eclose behind him, obviously thinking the same thing. The rain was not letting up at all.

God I hate the rain. Like of all the times in the world that God could decide to take a piss on us, he chooses one of the days that I'm stuck on an island with a stoner who's addicting to pussy, and a snobby little hot chick that I've decided to protect. Yessiree Bobby, you got yourself a perfect day going here.

Rob reached a nearby warehouse and found the door was unlocked. He pulled open the door and waited for the other two.

"Come on guys, move your asses, I want to get out of this rain sometime before the next announcement!"

((OOC: Sorry Leo, didn't know. Thought it would be better to post two to show a seperation. Won't do it again. Sorry and again, and thanks for the edit.))

"Ah, calm down ya little pansy!"

Matthew didn't like the rain anymore than Rob, but it was something he'd have to deal with. He didn't exactly like the idea of killing peope either, but here he was. Stuck.

Anna was a girl, who seemed maybe a year or two younger than he. He didn't really care that she was younger, but damn was she cute he'd think. There was an innocence to her that he was more attracted too, more than her actual body. (Though that wasn't half bad either)

Rob was fine, he'd do what he needed to do, but what about the girl? Did she really have what it took to stay alive? Would she be willing to kill someone if it came down the wire, even if it ment killing on of them?

"Anna, is there something I can carry or do for you?"

He looked at her with the most sincerest eyes, though not wanting to look like a whip son of a gun infront of Rob, he put emphasis on the word 'carry' as he gave her the "one two" look over.

Damnit...

((continued from Walking to School))

Now it was really starting to pour. Bryan picked up the pace as he headed towards the warehouse, which was adjacent to the industrial yard from day one. As he passed that same truck he'd used for cover, he half-expected his first opponent (those two runaways didn't count) to be waiting for him still behind the dumpster. But that was bullshit. Just his imagination fucking with him. He had to admit, though, there was a constant feeling of vulnerability on the island that he'd never felt anywhere else. Was he expected to have, really?

He was forgetting about Tori. She was counting on him and he was standing in the rain looking for ghosts of enemies. At least she was with Mari. And Seth was on his way, too. Once they were all reunited, they could...

...they could...

....

...'Better get moving, then,' he thought to himself, making his way towards a nearby entrance. The school was to the northeast. He wasn't going to waste time going around, and he didn't feel like hopping the high fence again; he'd slipped off the top of one before. It was unpleasant. Bryan hated the rain.

Looking through the binoculars, Kyle's eyes came to rest on a young man carrying a shotgun. The boy appeared to be seeking temporary shelter as well.

A shotgun would be a beautiful thing to have. So much power in such a portable form. Better than these fucking binoculars.

The boy headed right for the building Kyle was at. Kyle looked around quickly for some sort of weapon. His eyes came to rest on a small piece of brick.

It'll have to do. I'll knock this bastard out, take the gun and blow his fucking head off. I can't die out here, I have a future. Major League Soccer will be calling my number soon. I'll be making millions, and livin' large. If these bastards want to stop me from realizing my destiny in MLS, then so help me, I'll kill every last one of them.

Slowly and quietly Kyle positioned himself behind the door for the coming attack.

Bryan walked through the doorway and was hit in the side of the head with a small brick. Actually, it was about a half-a-brick, but at the moment all he knew was that he'd been japped, bad. His grip on the SPAS-12 was abandoned as one hand shot up to where he'd been hit, between the temple and the ear, and the other, unprepared for the weight of the barrel swinging downward, fumbled accordingly. The shotgun clattered heavily on the ground, and he stepped back with one foot, clutching his head and seeing the all-too-familiar white lights for a second.

There wasn't any time to think. There rarely ever was when you were hit over the head with something. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and gut rage felt from the blinding pain pushed him to retaliate as fast as he could. Grabbing frantically in the direction he figured his attacker would be in (probably going for the shotgun), he attempted to throw a knee into his opponent if he found him.

"...you--fucker!"

Matthews nerves were on edge and he could have screamed as loud as a chick at the sound of something hitting the ground hard near them. Lucky for those around him, and also, his own pride, he was able to scream in his head and show the upmost concern for what was going on.

Due to it raining, Matthews vision was blurred somewhat. He was worried that someone might be coming after them and he'd have to try and protect them with that he had.

"Rob, did you hear that?"

Of course he did. He'd be retarded if he didn't considering it was loud enough to make him jump. Already in his head, he was trying to figure out what he'd do. Would he leave Anna here with Rob? Would Rob and him go check it out?

"Listen, I'm going to take a look see. Anna, be careful, stay here and protect Rob."

Rob had indeed heard the sound. It was coming from extremely close by. Rob heard Matty say that he would go investigate.

Fuck that. Matty's nerves are shot. He'd be better here.

"Matty. As tempting as it is to let you go get shot in the ass. Come to think of it, that would be pretty funny, but all jokes aside. I think it is better if I go. I'll take the SMG in case I get into trouble. You stay here and keep Anna close to you. Take my pistol, and keep it aimed on the door. If anyone tries to come in, you shoot. No questions asked. To let you know it's me, I'll knock three times on the door. Don't argue it. You know I'm a better shot anyways."

Not like you need to be a good shot with a fuckin SMG

With that Rob slowly exited the shelter, closing the door tightly behind him. He made his way over to the building where the sounds were coming from.

What the fuck is going on?

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The piece of brick had found its mark. The brick cracked the boy's skull, but it wasn't enough to knock him out. Kyle dodged the boy's body, and made a leap for the shotgun.

"Fuck." Kyle exclaimed in pain.

The boy had wheeled around, and seemingly by chance hit Kyle in the ribs with a knee. This caused Kyle's hand to knock the shotgun even farther away.

Kyle slowly arose to face his opponent. It was then that he noticed the boy was regaining his senses, and the boy was extremely pissed off.

I gotta get out of here.

Kyle made a break for the door, hoping the other boy was still groggy enough to allow for a slight headstart.

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Rob came up to a window on the next building over. He looked in to see a struggle between two other boys. Drawing the SMG closer to his body, Rob slowly crept towards the door. What he would do when he got to the door, he had no idea.

Success. That knee very well might have saved his life entirely. Within a second the white lights dissappeared and he saw the gun hit the ground a second time; his mighty brick-wielding adversary was already bolting out the door.

"You better run, asshole!" he snarled, ignoring the throbbing pain in his temple as he grabbed the fallen shotty and pursued the tall boy through the entrance he'd just used.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

Kyle had glanced back just in time to see that his pursuer had not only grabbed the shotgun. He was gaining on Kyle.

Kyle made a quick left in between two buildings. Ahead of him he saw what looked like a fire escape ladder, with two rungs low enough for him to jump and grab. It was his only chance, since it was now obvious that he could not outrun this boy.

Kyle made his leap, and managed to snag the bottom rung. He tried to pull himself up, but slipped. He dangled momentarily by one hand. He was able to swing around and get both hands on the bottom rung again. He went to pull himself up again, not bothering to check if his pursuer had managed to catch up

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Rob was knocked back from the force of the door hitting his head. The force caused him to get groggy. He tilted his head up to see a figure come racing out of the door screaming at the first boy.

What the hell is going on?

Rob peeked in the door and found that there were no other bodies around. Rob then turned to see where the two boys had gone, he saw them about 100 yards away from where he was standing, still chasing each other. Against his better instincts, Rob began to run after the two boys. He had no idea why, but something told him there was about to be a show, and he did not want to miss it.

The boy dissappeared around a corner just as Bryan was given an opportunity to open up a fresh hole in his back. "Fuck," he spat under his breath, afraid he might lose him as he hustled around the corner.

Nope. Idiot decided to try his luck climbing the fire escape. What good was that going to do him? Did he figure it was impossible to shoot up? Ultimately it was a wasted effort on his part, because within seconds Bryan had caught up to him, slipping the shoulderstrap on the SPAS-12 around his neck and under his arm. This kept it on his back, out of the way.

"Naww you don't," he said gingerly as he grabbed the boy around the waist, which was about collarbone-level to him. Bryan wrenched hard to get him to release his grip on the rung.

"Fuck!" Kyle screamed as the boy wrapped around his waist. Kyle struggled with his lower body, managing to land a kick. Forceful enough to push the boy back a small gap.

Kyle then pulled himself up to the second rung.

Yes. Yes. I'm going to get out of this!....or not.

The fire escape ladder, had felt enough weight on it to engage its emergency lever. This meant that the ladder would now slide down to the ground.

Fuck.  It was the only appropriate thought that Kyle could think of. He now turned to face the enraged boy behind him. There was no escaping what was coming now.

((OOC: I give Cyco permission to control Kyle's actions during the next set of events))

The struggling boy struck out forcefully with his legs and managed to push Bryan back with his foot. He was no weakling--in fact it seemed he was quite strong in his legs--but it failed to really accomplish anything besides piss his skin-headed attacker off. Bryan sprung forward again with increased gusto and was about to try another hard tug when all of a sudden the ladder gave out anyway and the tall boy came down with it.

Bryan came face-to-face with the 6'2" beanpole as he stood up, less than a foot apart now. They were similar enough in height that Bryan could look him right in the eye and see his pupil constrict, right before he drove his forehead abruptly into the boys nose. There was a wet snap and he threw both hands up to cover his face, but blood trickled between his fingers and Bryan was confident it was broken. It was a good feeling, one of triumph, the kind he always felt when he made a nice clean impact, something worthy of an instant replay. Hell, this was all being recorded anyway. Maybe they would do so. To bad he would probably never get to see the footage.

Bryan let loose a shinkick with his right, landing forcefully on his opponents lat. Located on the outside of the upper leg, this was a particularly unpleasant area to be kicked, and Muay Thai took full advantage of that. So often had the students at Neilson's done condition training on the legs, just kicking back and forth on the unprotected muscle. Bryan could only imagine how much it hurt delivered from a 4-year Thai kickboxer on a regular guy. He'd ended brawls with just that single motion; not even streetfighting hoodlums ever thought to toughen up that key weakpoint on the human body. The tall boy was caught particularly off-guard by this second attack, it seemed, and his left leg was carried up and off to the right in front of him, almost like he was in a kick line or something. This threw his torso back and put him well off-balance, presenting the quick opportunity for Bryan to lunge forward, raising his right arm in front of him, quickly reversing his momentum and driving the point of his elbow down on the tall boys chest, flooring him straight down.

Oh, but it wasn't over yet. No, no-no-no...Bryan was never allowed to ground and pound at Neilson's; Muay Thai was a stand-up martial art and ground attacks were strictly against the rules. But at the park it was always different. Stomping, mounted punching, mounted knees (if the guy was on his belly), what-have-you. Spit on him, even. It was always a good way to make the lesson stick: "you fuck with me, I fuck you up."

Bryan had selected the mounted punch, mostly because the boy had landed on his back. He followed him to the ground and straddled his legs over the boys chest. His downed opponent still had his hands over his face, and tried to shield himself accordingly, but it was no use. Bryan tore into his face with a barrage of unforgiving punches, just a left-right-left-right pattern with no particular tactic except to cave in the front of his skull.

It wasn't like Matthew had a choice after Rob left the two of the standing there. He couldn't leave Ann on her own, nor could he really go anywhere himself. There was noise going on outside, but he couldn't really place what it was. Basically, the only thing he could do, was make sure the girl was alright. This would happen all the time in the movies, that a chich would join some guys, and after that, they couldn't do anything, cept make sure she was alright the whole fucking time. Giving her she looked pretty, it was still a pain in the ass to have to look after her.

His mom used to make him stay home with his sister when she was sick, to help make sure she'd be okay during the day. It was alright for the most part, but around lunch or so, Matthew would just end up inviting his friends over, smoking up in the washroom and forgetting all about her. He loved his sister, Giselle, very much, but usually found her to be more like a burden at some moments.

Matty looked over at Anna, then looked at his feet.

What the hell did I get myself into?

If he was back home with his friends all at a party, he would have taken this time alone with a pretty girl to get some action going, talk her into fooling around for a bit.. basically the same old same old.

This isn't the time for that. Maybe if things clear up a bit later.... oh fuck it.

He turned his attention to the wall infront of him.

"GRAHHHHHH"

He let out a loud grunt noise as he put all his force behind his fist, pounding it against the wall. He'd do this at home when he was really pissed off about something, not really thinking that it was probably making the girl uneasy. He was just so frustrated about this whole deal. Maybe if he had done things different in his life, he might not be here. All he wanted was to be home again, even maybe just once last chance to make things right with his sister. Seeing as all he had left were his memories, he waited...

"Adams will be coming back in just a minute."

...and waited.

All that Kyle could feel was his bones breaking. He did not know how many bones compiled to give the human face its structure, but he did know that it felt like every one of them was snapping with each punch he took. His left side orbital bone collapsed from two quick blows and blood began streaming from the eye. The next shot came in and Kyle felt his jaw crack. Blood poured from inside his mouth. The pain just kept coming. Rights and lefts, and rights and lefts, each punch landing with the same bone cracking force.

Kyle's face had become a mangled piece of flesh, bone and blood. He tried to speak through the punches, but all he managed to do was cough blood into the face of his attacker. This set his attacker off even further. The attacking boy reared back and delivered on more blow to Kyle's nose. It was over. The blow had caused Kyle's nasal bone to separate and be driven into his brain.

All the pain was gone instantly. All that was left was the bloodied bleeding body of the would be soccer star.

Boy #61 - Kyle Rizea - Dead

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Rob had come around the corner just in time to see this shotgun wielding boy deliver what seemed to be the final blow to the face of the other boy.

Holy shit! Why the fuck did I follow them?

Sensing that this other kid was a danger, Rob tried to slowly back away, hoping to God that the attacking kid would not turn around.

He saw it now, he saw what a bad fucking call that was.

The tall boy was coughing up blood violently, and flecks of it dotted Bryan's face and shirt as he assaulted his grounded opponent. It did nothing to stay his hand; actually, it fuelled his adrenaline and he drove his fists harder into the contorted, mangled visage of the tall boy. Bryan's teeth were clenched so tight that his molars ached and he was sure they'd chip and break any coming second. He wasn't planning on stopping, but then again he wasn't planning on anything other than beating the living fuck out of this guy who hit him in the head with a brick.

There was, of course, no way to gauge how much fuck had been beaten out of his fallen enemy, so he just kept right on going until he felt something collapse after a hefty right. His left was already raised beside his face, and he halted it abruptly. The tall boy was dead. Bryan's heart was still racing and he was breathing heavily, but both could now begin to slow down as he'd ceased his attack entirely, taking a moment to look over what was left of the dead boys face. A lot of blood had issued from his nose, which was not only broken but now set deeper in his head. The whole area on his face that had been subject to attack had swelled-up, and bruising had established noticably along the bridge of his nose, under an eye and on the jaw. He looked entirely different than he had a moment ago when they'd come face-to-face.

Calvert didn't feel quite as accomplished as he thought he would, but he felt better at least. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve as he got to his feet, avoiding using his bloodstained knuckles. It was raining now, and all he needed to do was wring his hands a little to clean them. He turned back toward where he'd entered the alley from--

"Shhhit!"

His right hand scrambled to the handle of the SPAS-12 behind his shoulder, and his left caught the barrel of the gun as it came swinging down in front of him. They had been tailed by a kid with an Uzi.

"You want some too?" he snarled, but his voice was heavy with fatigue.