Survival Of The Fittest

((I know you told me not to have Roland follow you, but Zed and pals were already headed here before then. ): Sorry.

Continued from Don't Panic...))

Zachary "Zed" Foreman was tired as he trudged through the door of the hotel. And hurting. Much more the latter than the former, but at least his Spanish Tickler of Vengeance (as well as his new "friends") gave him solace and hope. Now all he needed was relief. Of course, relief was something he was NOT going to get with the putrid smell that quickly permeated his sinuses.

So much for the welcome reception...

A few more steps quickly brought him to, and a squishing, cracking noise with one step brought his gaze down to, the source of that stench.

Before him lay a corpse, and one that had clearly been there a while, judging from the insects and other vermin that had already gathered to feast on its remains. Judging by the look on its face it had probably went on to the life hereafter in unspeakable if not instantaneous pain. He didn't recognize the face, but from the remains of the vest it wore he could deduce it was from Gilroy Academy, or at least its virtual equivalent. A good chunk of that vest - and the body covering it - looked like it had been bitten off by a large animal, and fragments of plastic circled a large gash in its neck.

Looking at that gash caused Zed to choke, an action further hampered by the plastic collar that tightly wound around his jugular.

"Urk...Oh God..." were the last words out of Zed's mouth, with retching material following very close behind. As much as he was convinced he was in a video game, he never realized that it could get this graphic, beyond the degree of his first-hand experience. He staggered back, and tried to lean on his party, wiping the stuff off his mouth with his sleeve. At least the vomit covered up some of the bloodstains and that look of unearthly agony plastered on the corpse's face...

Calm down, Zed! This is probably just the survival horror section of the game...

((Andrew continued from Don't Panic))
((Nich continued from Don't Panic))

Andrew had never seen a dead body before. Not even when Kim had bitten it back at Hobbsborough, and the school had been put on full lock down. He had been curious as to what she would look like, untouched post-mortem, the leading role in the scene of her demise. Now, here lay a kid from the Gilroy Academy, his face remaining contorted in his death scream and his putrid stench filling Swainson's nostrils. He nearly puked his guts out, as Zed had just done, but was just able to hold it in. He was much more terrified than revolted. It felt as if any second, the boy's sightless eyes would blink and he would smile and say, "you're next, Swainson."

"That's fucking nasty," Nich choked, covering his nose with the collar of his shirt. The smell was unbearable.

Andrew's gaze remained fixed on the corpse of the Gilroy student, until finally a crucial gear in his head turned and he suddenly turned to his friends. "What if the killer's still here??"

"Well (shit)," Nich said, wincing as he let down his mighty shirt-guard and the smell made its way up his nose, "it looks like his collar exploded, so...see? Look here." He made his way over to the body and pointed to the dead kids neck. "Maybe he tried to take it off. Boom!" he made a gesture like his neck was exploding. Andrew wretched, but managed once again not to hurl.

The description of how that boy could've died had ironically caused Zachary to stop retching, as he came to realize (again) that he also had a collar of similar nature. This collar now felt like it was choking off blood flow to his head, making him very dizzy. He now found it hard to maintain his grip on the Spanish Tickler he had wielded securely since he cleaned himself in the river, and he inadvertently slung his injured arm over Andrew's shoulder, wincing as he did so.

Get a hold of yourself! For all you know that corpse was just spawned there for dramatic effect!

And Nich still didn't explain the large chunk of meat and viscera bitten out of the side of that kid's chest. Thankfully, Zed was not looking at that.

Logic seemed to dictate that the boy that was the corpse had lost that half of his torso first. Then in his pain the collar was somehow triggered, by whom was beyond him. Zachary imagined that the collar explosion was the vicious, instantaneous release. Somehow, he partially figured that it was also the "loser's way out," though if the boy had to go through pain like that then there was probably no other option...even if that corpse was a pitiful Gilroyal and not a battle-hardy FS.

"I need...to relax..." Zed struggled to say...

Andrew was able to support the slightly taller boy with a little effort. "Take it easy, dude," he said. He was beginning to wonder if it would've been a good idea for all three of them to remain in the sewer where they'd been reunited.

"Let's just get a fucking room," Nich grumbled. He tried to ignore the gruesome remains of the body in front of him and gingerly hopped over the reception desk, grabbing several of the dangling keys from their hooks. Some were missing, but Nich payed them no mind; the island had been evacuated right away. Nich stuffed the keys in his pockets and, after a moment to deliberate, went about clearing the wall of every key on every hook, tossing each one into his daypack and zipping it back up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Andrew asked, still tending to Zed.

"Taking all of the keys," Nich responded, slinging the pack over his arm.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It just seems like a good idea."

"Whatever."

"12A."

"Huh?"

"That's the room. Let's go." Nich glanced at the key in his hand again and read it aloud. "12A. That'll be on the first floor, right?"

"The hell should I know? Help me out."

Nich palmed the key and lent Swainson a hand with helping Zed walk, the trio making their way down the silent hallway. It wasn't long before they arrived at the door corresponding with their number, and Nich fumbled with the key, trying to hold his comrade up and unlock the door at the same time.

"Hurry up, dude, Zed weighs a ton."

"Yeah, yeah."

Nich unlocked the door and opened it hastily, not remotely concerned that it might be inhabited by someone else. The fact that he posessed the key was assuring to say the least. The room was nothing special, but it certainly was inviting given the situation; there were two beds, a bathroom, a TV, a coffeetable and a chair in the corner. The two dragged Zed in and set him down on one of the beds. Nich dropped his bag on the ground and headed towards the glass sliding doors on the opposite end of the room, drawing the blinds and looking out for a moment. No one. "Lock the door," he said.

Andrew complied without hesitation and made his way back to the bed Foreman was sitting on, throwing himself upon it and curling into a fetal position. "I'm so fuckin' tired," he mumbled.

Nich seated himself on the other bed and began to take off his leather boots; the feeling of cool air on his feet was refreshing. "I'll stand watch first if you guys want."

"I'm fine with that," Andrew droned, grabbing an adjacent pillow and placing it under his weary head.

"You wanna grab this bed, then? I'll take the chair."

"Mgffjgn..."

"Whatever." Nich went to the chair and sat down, lounging and putting his feet up. He tossed the axe on the coffeetable and snorted. "I'll just make sure no one kills us, then."

Zed tried not to literally burden the two as they helped him up and into the room. It was something he was definitely thankful for.

Not long after he was rested on the bed, he slowly sat up (a very painful decision, given that it forced some blood to the affected area) and looked around for his bag. When he saw where Nich had put it he got slowly...slowly!... out of bed and fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled whump. He moaned as he tried to get up, eventually having to crawl over to the backpack and pick out the first-aid kit. This, of course, he did with one hand, his other still firmly gripping...the handle of his Spanish Tickler.

Nich was already keeping watch from the coffeetable.

"You'll know...where to find me...if you need me..." he muttered as he crawled off.

His next destination...the bathroom. What he would do in there was strictly his own business, but at least this time he'd have a better grasp of what he'd be doing now that he was relatively safe in the overall privacy of the hotel room.

Zed didn't close the door for fear of a "Heeeeeere's Nicky!" or Hitchcock-ish Psycho moment, but he did hope the clacking of the Tickler against the tiled floor would at least tell them that he was still at threat. He dragged himself into the bathtub, pulled off his pants, (took out what medications and extra bandages were needed,) and got to work.

Nich relaxed and blew out a deep breath, surveying the room. 'Not bad,' he thought, putting his arms behind his head. 'We can hole up here safely for a while. Maybe even use it as a home base.'

Andrew was still passed-out on one of the beds, and Nich couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't afraid to trust either him or Zed. He hadn't even been remotely wary of them when they ran into eachother, and he had been (and still was) defenseless. 'Maybe I should start trusting the guys a bit more,' he thought. 'Maybe if we work together...' Fuck. It always ended there. There was no back door out of this sick game. There was no alternative.

Nich spotted a mini-bar near the window, and for a split-second it peaked his interest, that is until he realized that it had been broken into and cleaned out. Must've been the terrorists; they'd taken pretty much everything useful. Probably even the corkscrew.

"Shit..." he sighed. "I could really use a drink right now."

((I would not recommend a Content Warning for this as we're assuming the "camera" is outside the bathroom. Plus, I have yet to explicitly mention exactly what it is that Zed's working on. Maybe it's really his arm and not his third leg.))

Nich and Andrew could probably hear groans and grunts coming from the direction of the bathroom as Zed tried to fix himself up using as much precision as he could muster. He was relaxed, but also quite tired. Of course, the surgeon-in-ICU mood was there as well, as he did not discount the threat that anybody could just walk in and finish the job Venus started, with even more extreme prejudice.

If all else fails...this Spanish Tickler could be useful...I mean...it's not the car, it's the engine, right!?

Of course, Zed was facing a more important emergency as one could tell by the fact that these groans and grunts were becoming more laced with pain. Apparently, enough nurturing could indeed cause untimely growth spurts, which were painful when the rest of the body could not keep up. At least the skin could...if not for too long.

((Intervention, anyone?))

"You ok, dude?" Nich asked, wrinkling his nose. He hadn't arrived on the scene in the forest fast enough to discern how the bitch had harmed Zed's crotch, but he could guess what his poor buddy was going through.

"What happened to him, anyway?" Andrew grumbled, turning over and casting a glance at Nich.

"I dunno...some chick.....yeahhh, I dunno."

"Sounds like he's dying."

"Sounds like he's fucking a threading die."

"Tell him to leave it alone or it'll get worse."

"Zed! Leave it alone or it'll get worse!"

"You should go give him a hand," Andrew chuckled as he threw his head back into the pillow and tried to get back to sleep. He had a terrible, sickly feeling in his stomach; partially because of the corpse in the lobby, but moreso because he was going to die soon. Everyone was going to die. He wouldn't be surprised if those assholes killed the winner, too. They were global terrorists, for fucks sake. What honor did they have? 'We're all dead,' Andrew thought as he nodded off.

Zed moaned again, and Nich winced. "Poor bastard..."

"Al- most- done...AAGH!" It was becoming impossible to tell if Zed was either or both of reeling from or enjoying what he was doing.

At least the poor bastard was getting something done right. Zed whimpered and moaned as he finished applying medications to the most severely damaged areas. With his strength dwindling - and blood staining a good portion of the bathtub ceramic - he went to work on the bandages. The old ones - who knew what color those were - lay strewn across the floor. It would have been best for everyone in the room not to get within five meters of that thing once Zed got those out of the way.

"HRAAAGH!" It wasn't nearly as bloodcurdling a scream as when Venus had so cruelly degraded him, but it would've scared someone. Of course, that was just one scream, followed by...

"Hugh...ugh...shit...that was..." they could hear him say, once the new bandages were snugly wrapped around his settling merchandise. He'd decided to wrap them extra tight in his passion, that way they'd be broken in properly. Once that started to occur, Zed lay back in the bathtub, taking weary breaths of utter relief...and started to drift off to slumber...

Nich spent the next half-hour treating the three cuts in his arm from earlier, unwrapping the blood-stained bandana from his bicep and examining them closely. "Not too bad," he mumbled, grabbing the first-aid kit from his daypack and withdrawing both the antiseptic and the unused roll of bandages. Difficult as it was using only one hand to do so, he wrapped the affected area firmly, re-wrapping the bandana after he was satisfied with the job; he certainly would be able to take his time if he needed to. Finishing up, he stuffed the medical supplies back in the kit and then that in the bag, zipping it up and sitting back with a feeling of accomplishment.

~~~

Nich had become quite relaxed in the last few hours and had even begun 'resting his eyes' when a piercing cry, that of a woman, became just barely audible. He shot up, startled, and grabbed the handaxe from off of the table in front of him. It was coming from somewhere in the building. One of the rooms...? He calmed down after a moment, but his spine still tingled at how blood-curdling the scream had been. One of mortal terror. It would most likely haunt him to his death.

"Swainson, wake up!" he hissed. "Zed!" Nich was sure to maintain a harsh whispered tone that wouldn't give away their position to anyone outside the room. Andrew rolled over, but didn't seem at all alarmed in the urgency of his voice. "Wake the fuck up, dude!" Nich said, louder this time, approaching his sleeping teammate and shaking him vigorously.

"Whaaaat..." Andrew moaned, looking at Nich with the hatred one will rarely find outside that of a kid who hasn't had enough sleep.

"Someone's screaming," Nich said. "It's on this floor, I think." He couldn't be sure, but the sound had eminated from the hallway outside, so he was probably right. Either way--

A gunshot. Much louder and clearer than the screaming, it peaked Andrew's interest. He gasped and shot up in a similar manner to what Nich had done, shaking his head and wiping the sweat, which had accumulated during his slumber, off of his brow. "Holy shit!" he whispered anxiously. "What to we do?? Zed! Zed!!"

Nich hastened to the open bathroom door, Foreman's privacy being the last of his concerns, and slapped the doorframe with his hand firmly. "Wake up, dude! Some shit's going down!"

Zachary Foreman's eyes had jolted open at the sound of the gunshot, which was clearly more audible than the scream. Of course, if he'd heard the scream he'd probably thought it was background noise, as part of the survival horror method. Either way, he grasped the handle of his Spanish Tickler hard and tried to go back to sleep.

I hope the AI really isn't that smart to get in here...

What really did surprise him was Nich suddenly arriving at the doorway and calling for him to get up. To this Zed responded by sitting up in the bathtub as if in bed out of nightmare. All the blood suddenly forced in a certain direction quickly reminded him that he was still trapped in this crazy MMORPG, though he did hope that his short rest helped him regain some HP. His arm, of course, seemed to be scabbing over quite well, though it was starting to itch.

"Damn...okay...what's going on?!"

Hope we're not being attacked by zombies...because I'm feeling like I'm turning into one...like Squall had the T-Virus or something.

"I can't tell yet," Nich said hurriedly, "but get your ass up." He sped to the door and looked out of the peephole, returning to the bathroom doorway and mumbling, "I think we might need to leave..."

"You're fuckin' right we do!" Andrew responded from the main room, searching around on the bed and finally finding his cap, which had fallen off during his sleep. He had seen this coming, he knew this would fucking happen! "I fucking knew it," he said, pulling his hat firmly over his head. He was still tired and had that same sick feeling in his stomach. "All it fucking takes is an asshole with a fucking gun!" He approached the other two, not needing to grab his supplies seeing as he had none. What were they waiting for? They all had to leave now!

"Chill the fuck out, Andrew," Nich said in an assertive tone, gesturing with his open hand accordingly. "Just chill out."

"You weren't there, man!" Swainson said, his eyes widening as if he were reliving that terrifying moment. "When that asshole took my stuff, I was...I was sitting there, and then this other asshole, fuckin' skinhead--I swear to fucking god he was a nazi motherfucker!--was comin' right at us, and he had this motherfuckin' sssshotgun...and...dude, there are some fuckers out there playin' for all the fuckin' chips. Fuckin' looking for people to kill. They'll look here, Nich, I know they fucking will--"

"Andrew, yo dude, Swainson!" Nich had been trying to cut him off about halfway through his rant, and finally did so by grabbing his arm and shaking him vigorously. Jesus Christ, it was like the kid totally forgot where he was, there. "Listen," he whispered, "I know they'll for sure look here if you keep babbling on like a fuckin' mental patient. Now chill. The fuck. Out."

Andrew didn't feel the need for another outburst, partially because he'd been able to vent a fair amount, but moreso because he trusted Nich; his best friend had gotten him out of some sticky situations before. He breathed heavily, but it was becoming slower, and he finally said, "what should we do then?"

Nich bit his lip. "I dunno."

Zed grumbled to himself as he stood up in the bathtub, which almost looked like a butcher had set up shop there, and mostly from Zed's own actions. As soon as he was fully erect (in the standing postural sense) he suddenly ended up falling to lean on the bathroom tile, the effort forcing still more blood to his most affected area. It wasn't a pretty sight, but at least it was something he'd managed to get up from.

He didn't pay too much attention to Andrew panicking in the next room, as it was probably just a plot device cutscene sort of thing anyway. Of course, it would probably work much to Zed's disadvantage that he didn't hear that someone had a shotgun that could probably shred his Spanish Tickler. Right now, Zed was busy using the sink to properly clean his hands. As some twisted act of hospitality, the admins had left the water running AND provided soap (like you could kill anyone with that,) though they had oddly removed the towels.

They probably read what I could have done with that flag. Damn harlot's probably the reason so many men turn queer.

As soon as Zed was finished shaking off excess water from his hands (an act that did cause him pain as he used his entire arm to do so) he re-armed himself with the Spanish Tickler and made his way out of the bathroom, hoping he didn't end up bumping into anyone on the way out...

((Compromising position anyone? XD))

Unfortunately, he did. Andrew was just about to go (attempt to) drag Zed out by the ears and get him in on the plan. Or lack thereof...soon there would be a plan(?)...

Either way, upon his hasty departure from the washroom, Zed bumped headlong into Swainson, and the latter of the two stumbled sideways into the hotel room door with a dull bump. "Oww, shit--"

Andrew's sudden move caught Zed entirely by surprise, not because he suspected it would mean his death but by the way it resulted when the two hit the door. As it turned out, the two were face to face, pressed against each other, their lips hovering mere inches away. Their hands were also touching, down by the waist area and ready to make a move.

"Uh...um..."

Zed's most affected area started to hurt again, and not in a good way. Maybe it was the trauma from a very short-lived and disastrous straight romance. Or maybe it was the seeming lack of evil intentions that seemed more genuine than that Barbie bitch. Either way it left him quite flustered in a very uke way.

Stay calm...it's not like they'd have out-and-out yaoi in video games these days...it's probably going to be censored like that Hot Coffee thing...