Survival Of The Fittest

You've got to be shitting me...

None of it really seemed real to him, not even at all. The events of the past hour and a half just didn't seem as though they had actually happened and his mind was still trying to come to terms with it. Throughout the last ten days, Adam Dodd had sworn up and down that when all was said and done, he'd be standing tall, ready to stick it to Danya to make up for the hell that the man had put him and all of his peers through. Now... ten days later, Adam was standing, the last person alive on the island, almost as though some sort of sick prophecy had been fulfilled. And Adam was at a loss for words. He'd been at a loss ever since he'd looked down at the corpse of Jack O'Connor and had seen the blood pooling from underneath the boy's body, Jack's face and skin taking on the sickly pale colour that everyone else who had died had assumed.

It's finally over...

No sooner had the words popped into his head when Adam realized that he was wrong. His own personal hell that had been nicknamed 'Survival of the Fittest' was NOT over, not even at all. In fact, while he'd managed to outlast one hundred and twenty-two people in a glorified game of last-man-standing, he couldn't help but notice that he was still holding a weapon, he still had an explosive device around his neck, and he was still on the island of death. Things were not over, and Adam had no idea what was even going to come upon him next. Would Danya swoop down in a chopper and gun him to shreds with a gatling gun? Would the US Military intervene and save the day, much too late for everyone else? Perhaps an army of pirate ninja monkeys would descend upon the Earth and kill everyone, leaving Adam as the lone survivor, stuck on the island because of the accursed collar on his neck?

The one possibility that Adam knew was probably more likely than anything was that Danya would simply leave him on the island, and drop another group of unsuspecting students in on him, leaving him to the same fate as the winner of the first Survival of the Fittest... Sydney Morvran? Had that been his name?

It seems like so long ago that I was listening to that first announcement... the poor bastard had already died, and Danya made some joke about him and his friends... ? God, I can't remember, I think I woke up to that very announcement...

Stepping back from Jack's corpse, Adam tossed the pistol on the ground. The gun felt like it weighed one thousand pounds in Adam's hand, and seemed as though it were a foreign presence in a place that it was certainly not welcome. Glancing around the area, almost as if to check and see if there could be anyone watching him, Adam slung the backpack off of his shoulders, and sighed a deep sigh. His body was sore from the relentless battling that he'd been doing for days, especially the brawl that he'd engaged Cody in before he'd managed to kill him. His face was black and blue from the punches that had sent his ears ringing, and he had a few wounds on various body parts that were still bleeding.

But he was alive.

He definitely had mixed feelings about that, for certain. For one, he was glad to be alive, glad to feel each and every bit of throbbing pain that echoed throughout his body, from the top of his head to the tip of his toe. But at what cost had this come? Adam glanced back at Jack O'Connor again, and he knew that he'd never forget the cost. The cost had come at thirteen people that he had been forced to kill, with his own bare hands. Adam would never forget this, as his 'freedom' had come at a cost. Freedom that he didn't even know if he was going to receive as of yet. Sighing to himself, he bent down and unzipped his knapsack. The pack was filled with different kinds of ammunition, most for pistols and automatic submachine guns. Adam took all of these out and tossed them on the ground. Without a pistol in his possession, Adam had no use for all of the extra ammunition. He knew that he could just retrieve one of the many pieces of weaponry that was scattered throughout the area, but at this point, Adam wanted to lighten his load. He'd discarded or used most of his accumulated weapons, and frankly, his back was killing him. Adam figured that along with the items that he actually NEEDED in his pack (the food, water, his own wallet, two diaries that had belonged to two of his close friends, and his out-of-batteries cell phone that had probably died in the rain), he had enough strength to carry one weapon, and the ammunition for that weapon. Of course, Adam knew exactly what he was going to choose. Dumping the rest of the ammunition on the ground, Adam looked in the bag and saw only one kind left - shotgun shells.

The shotgun had been the one weapon that Adam had enjoyed ever since he had played Doom when he was a little kid. It was easily the most effective weapon against the monsters in that game, and Adam had been a big fan of it in most first-person shooters that were available on the gaming market. So when Hawley Faust had requested that Adam swap weapons with him, pistol for shotgun, Adam hadn't had to think twice about it. The shotgun was indeed one of the most powerful weapons available in the Survival of the Fittest competition, and to have it gave Adam a sense of security, even if at first he hadn't exactly planned upon using it.

My, how things managed to change in that respect, didn't they?

Stepping away from the large pile of ammunition on the ground, Adam walked around to the bushes where he'd hidden from Cody Jenson as the latter had stalked him around the valley. Adam had recalled that he'd put the shotgun underneath a bush, primarily because he'd run out of ammunition; the rest of it had been in his pack that had been across the valley. As such, discarding the shotgun and using the pistol had seemed like a better course of action. In the end, it hadn't mattered, for Cody had died thanks to the saber that Adam had taken from the body of Peri Barclay, and not by any gunshot wound. Reaching underneath a bush on the right-most side of the area that bordered the river, Adam felt the familiar feeling of the stock of the shotgun underneath his fingertips. With a smile, he removed the gun from its hiding place and quickly loaded his shotgun. His fingers shook a little as he slid the shells into the shotgun, remembering that the last time he'd done this very action, his life had been in imminent danger. That feeling hadn't seemed to go away, and Adam still found himself looking around in fear of somebody popping out of a bush, or jumping out from behind a rock. Of course, in the back of his mind, he knew that it just wasn't going to happen.

Everyone was dead but him.

Shotgun in hand, Adam turned around and again surveyed the scene where the final battle had played out. In this area, especially, the ground was littered with corpses. In his immediate viewpoint, he saw at least three above ground, three below, and one stapled to a tree with a sword. He knew that if he looked on enough, he'd be able to find another corpse, that of Blaine Eno, and there were more, some that he couldn't recognize. So many bodies and all he could do was just sigh. Taking one last look at the one place that he hoped that he would (finally) never have to visit again, Adam turned around and walked out of the clearing, stepping into the woods, where he'd fled from Cody Jenson. This time, instead of running down the path beside the river, the calmly walked it, shotgun still out in front of him as though he were going to encounter someone who he'd missed, someone who was alive.

So now what? Do I just wander around aimlessly until I have to resort to cannibalism? Is that the big fucking prize that I just won? Out-lived over a hundred people just so that I'd have some food to eat until the government of the United States figures out just where the fuck I am? Or did they flee shortly before the sun began to set, leaving us all to kill each other for no reason?

Looking up at the sky, Adam saw that it had turned a deep red, the sun already settling so that the moon and the stars could emerge from their slumber. In another life, it seemed, Adam would feel so calm, and relaxed by the setting sun, knowing that soon, he'd be peacefully sleeping in his bed, ready to greet the oncoming day, probably grumbling about waking up, but ready nonetheless.

Now all of that security, it's gone, and I highly doubt that I'm ever going to feel safe again.

Striding down the path, Adam wondered what he would do when he came to the border of the river area. The last time that he'd been here; when he'd jumped over the river itself on what was likely a lot more adrenaline than acrobatic skill, he'd taken sharp notice of the flashing red beacon that had indicated the edge of the area. If he'd chosen to foray any further along the path, he'd have exploded, thanks to the horrifying effects of the explosive collar around his neck entering a danger zone. It was a thought that he didn't want to think too much about, especially because now that he was the sole survivor, to die via collar explosion would be almost anti-climactic.

When I first came to this island
that I called by own name
I was happy in this fortress,
in my exile I remained
But the hours grew so empty
and the ocean sent her waves
In the figure of a woman
and she pulled me out to sea

Adam found himself taken quite aback when his collar crackled to life and began to speak to him, absolutely out of nowhere. The voice coming from the mike on his collar didn't belong to Danya, but rather to a tired-sounding male who Adam placed to be in his early twenties. This new voice surprised Adam, who stopped in his tracks to listen. The message was very simple, but Adam couldn't help but be surprised.

"Winner, please report to the Eastern Shore for extraction."

Blinking suddenly, Adam shook his head a bit in a sense of near-wonder. His emotions had almost shut themselves off by this point, and he simply felt numb. No excitement, no anger, nothing. Just a sense of numb feeling. Looking down at the muddy shoes on his feet, he blinked.

"What?"

The voice came through again, still sounding tired, almost as though it were a recording. Adam would have figured it for a recording if the person on the other end hadn't coughed slightly after they spoke again.

"Winner, please report to the Eastern Shore for extraction."

"The Eastern Shore... " Adam's voice almost had a sense of confusion in it, which seemingly annoyed the voice on the other end.

"Yes, the Eastern Shore. You do know how to get there, correct?"

Adam nodded to no one in particular, and still in a state of shock, his eyes narrowed and he felt the feeling of skepticism rising into his body.

"Yeah, I know how to get there - but the entire island is filled with danger zones. How d'you expect me to get over there without blowing myself up, asshole?"

The voice on the other end of the collar seemed to sigh in frustration, grunted a little, and replied. As he did, Adam heard the distinct humming that the danger zones made when they powered themselves down.

"There you go. But we're keeping an eye on you. Straight to the Eastern Shore, or we WILL detonate your collar."

The crackling sound the collar made when someone was speaking through it disappeared, and Adam again found himself alone on the island, with no voices to guide him through it. No friends, nor enemies - simply, himself.

When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
When you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away

"Extraction... "

The word seemed to have so many different meanings to Adam, and he could only imagine what inane definition the terrorists may have cooked up. It was very possible that they would remove him from the island, torture him until any information that they might have wanted to gleam from him had been given up, and then kill him. Then again, extraction could mean the very thing that he hoped it did - that all of his fighting had been FOR something, that he would actually get to go home again.

One could only hope that I'd be that lucky... though, with my track record as of late, I wouldn't put money on it, that's for sure...

Knowing that now, he really hadn't much of a choice in the matter, he figured that his best bet - his only bet, really, was to see things through, and to do what they said. Grabbing the map out of his pocket and unfolding it for what seemed like the thousandth time, Adam looked at his current position and saw that the Eastern Shore wasn't as far a walk as he figured that it was. It would certainly be easier while he still had daylight left, and if he were going to be shot down right there, he figured that he'd much rather see it coming (so that he could aim at somebody, at the very least). Sighing to himself, he glanced back at the River, and left the area behind.

---

"Oh god... "

The confused mumble was all that Adam Dodd could do to keep from screaming out in pain. The throbbing between his temples was fading in and out at a steady pace, and if there was one thing that Adam hated more than anything else, it was headaches. Ever since he had been little, he had been plagued with side-splitting migraines, pains that would force him down onto the ground and incapacitate him so much so that his parents would have to lift him into bed. It was as such that Adam figured that one day he would eventually go out with a brain aneurysm or something like that, just to do the world some poetic justice as he left.

Rocks...

His eyelids tried their damndest to snap shut, as Adam slowly realized that he was not at home in his bed, and not living down the effects of a killer headache. Perplexed, Adam finally forced his eyes open, letting his pupils adjust to the light that flowed in from the sky. Blinking a few times, Adam pulled himself to a sitting position, and beheld the site of the entire island. His mouth gaped open and he took a moment to compose himself.

"What in the hell... ?"

Mister Danya...

Oh God. The events of the past few hours came flooding back to him, so much so that he had to shut his eyes to really believe that it was all coming true. The plane, the video, the senseless murder that Mr. Danya had ordered. Who was the face? Adam didn't know. As his mind formulated its way around his current situation, Adam's stomach took a tumble. Here they were. Simply put, in a glorified game of Last Man Standing. Problem was, these were his friends, for god's sakes. Could he kill them?

Sighing, he pulled himself to a sitting position once again. Adam opened the bag that he had been assigned. Quickly, he looked over the food and water. It would be valuable to save that for later. Next, he pulled out the instruction manual. At this he cocked an eye. He'd have to flip through it, but first he'd want to find out...

What the fuck?

In his hands, Adam held (thankfully) what appeared to be a pistol. It did, however, look like an antique. He hefted the old Argentinian pistol in his hands. While it looked as old as perhaps both of his parents put together, he hoped that it would work well if he needed to use it.

... to do what, to kill someone?

Sadly, Adam sighed to himself, he may not have much of a choice.

---

Adam felt as though it were some sort of inane urging from his own memory to recall the events of the last few days, almost as though they had been from a trip that he wished wouldn't be ending. Of course, reflecting upon that certain metaphor, Adam knew that the exact opposite was true. He'd been anticipating a good time, a nice, relaxing, end-of-the-year trip to a place where he could relax and sit on a beach, and instead he got shoved right into a war. A war where there would be only one survivor, where hundreds would die, and only one would live - and of course, as fate had it, that one person ended up being him.

That's right, folks. Yours truly managed to make it out, and damned if I still can't seem to wrap my fucking head around the concept.

As he entered the Eastern Shore, stepping haphazardly around what looked to be a body part that some animal had likely dragged over from a corpse in the area, Adam glanced around the area. Since it was getting darker by the second, he couldn't quite see down the entire length of the shore, but he remembered a lot of it from memory. He'd been to the shore several times over the course of his stay on the island, and all of those times had done a lot of looking around. The very first time that he'd stepped foot in the area, he'd been searching for his best friend, hoping to find him after being separated from his group and then cut off from Andrew while miraculously managing to reach him through a phone call. Much to his disdain, he'd been successful, first swimming out to investigate the wreckage of what looked like a wheelchair, finding a pistol, and then stumbling upon the body of his friend. Adam'd been torn right up, and had wrecked a significant number of cameras in his rage. He'd left, vowing to find his remaining friends and stand by them until the end, no matter what it took. He'd later return after those aforementioned friends were all dead, a solo wanderer, mainly trying to survive on his own. He'd heard a scuffle down at the beach as he had passed by, and curious to a fault, had peered in to check it out. As it had turned out, Adam had managed to stumble upon an acquaintance of his getting strangled by another student. He'd stepped in and shot the attacker three times, pausing only to nod to the acquaintance; Gilbert, before moving on. The final time that Adam had return to the Eastern Shore had been when he'd been shot by a tranquilizer dart and had hallucinated speaking with his dead friend as he'd dragged his friend's corpse up on shore. Very little time had passed before Adam'd been attacked by a crazy girl, who he'd quickly shot to protect himself.

There's been so much fucking killing and I'm basically desensitized to it... thinking about it, I hardly feel anything anymore...

On the altar of a sunrise
was a wedding in the waves
And inside her shown a young light
from her labor I was saved
Though I've traveled long in darkness
in her harvest I'm embraced

So it was that Adam knew the area relatively well from memory, though this time, there was undoubtedly something that was different. The canoe that had been shattered by gunfire between his visits to the shore seemed to have drifted into the water, as the shoreline was now relatively clear of debris; wooden, human, or otherwise. Straining his eyes to glance down the shoreline, he saw something that peaked his interest, as it hadn't been there during ANY of his visits. Down at the end of the beach, dragged up onto the portion of the sand that the tide wouldn't get to was what appeared to be a relatively large pontoon boat. Made of what appeared to be likely a type of aluminum or metal, the boat had enough seats to seat probably about fifteen people. Adam couldn't quite tell because of the rapidly decreasing light, but it appeared to have a cage surrounding it, likely so that those sitting in it wouldn't fall off. The front of the boat had a steering wheel and a ladder/ramp that seemed to allow for easy access on and off the boat, but Adam again wasn't able to tell if it were a ladder or a ramp. Perplexed, he walked down the shore, looking at the boat with an intense scrutiny.

Perhaps because it was the first thing that he'd seen that hadn't seemed to belong on the island of death, or because it was something that hadn't been here during any of the other times he'd been in the area, but ideas began to populate themselves inside of Adam's mind. When the terrorists meant extraction, did they mean that they were simply going to give him a boat and let him ride off into the sunset? It almost seemed too good to be true. Adam's hopes rose suddenly, but he then dashed them almost as quickly as they had risen.

The fucking collar! God damnit! If this stupid fucking thing wasn't still wrapped around my neck, that'd be a perfectly fucking plausible option! Unless there's something on that boat to help me get it off, I don't see me being able to get anywhere! Maybe that's the big joke. They give me a way off, but if I decide to take it, or get too over-zealous and jump on right away, I get my head blown off for my stupidity. Fucking assholes, I'll show them where to take their fucking charity... they can take it and stick it right up their own asses!

Incensed as he finally came to a stop in front of the boat, Adam scratched his neck with the tip of his shotgun. It didn't seem to all add up to him, but he assumed that since he was here, he might as well at least take a look on the ship to see if there was anything of use on it - like a device to remove the collar from around his neck.

Suddenly, without any warning at all, they were everywhere. Adam took quite a few steps back in absolute shock, and held the shotgun up, pointing left and right, trying to determine how in God's name he could have been so blind about it. The boat had worked it's magic perfectly, and all of a sudden, Adam knew just what was going to happen. As he'd taken a step towards the boat, soldiers had seemingly stepped out of the shadows, all masked, assault rifles at the ready, all pointing towards him. His already-pale face became that much paler as he glanced around at all of the guns pointed his way. If the plan was to lure the winner here and kill him or her, Adam knew that he was already dead. The bright glare of their shoulder-lamps made his hand come up to shield his eyes, and the area, at least, where he was standing, was instantly lit up.

"Drop the shotgun."

Adam's eyes darted back and forth between the different terrorists. He couldn't tell which one that it was who demanded him to drop his weapon, but the man (whoever he had been) sounded like he meant it. Adam didn't know if he was in much of a position to argue with these terrorists, thanks to the amount of ammunition that he knew would likely be pumped into him if he disagreed.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not. Something about wandering around unarmed... I dunno, the last ten days seem to have really drilled that into my head as a BAD fucking idea."

The lead terrorist stepped forward, gun still pointed right at Adam's head. The tone in his voice suggested that he hadn't appreciated Adam's sarcasm very much.

"Drop the fucking gun, or you're as dead as the rest of the corpses on this island."

Sighing a bit, Adam looked over the shotgun in his own hands. It had been through a lot while on the island, almost as much as he himself had been through. Starting out as the assigned weapon of Boy #22, Hawley Faust, it had switched hands several times, going from Hawley, to Adam, to Amanda Jones, and back to Adam upon Amanda's untimely death. Adam had dropped it when he'd been fighting Cody Jenson, and then had reclaimed after everything was said and done. To leave it behind almost seemed criminal, as though he were leaving behind a close friend, and Adam shut his eyes and sighed again before dropping the weapon in the sand.

When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
When you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away

Nodding slightly, the man who had moved ahead of the group gestured to another terrorist, who walked quickly over and retrieved the weapon, unloading it and then quickly tossing it into the darkness. The man then moved back to his position alongside of the others. The lead terrorist spoke up again, this time issuing another instruction.

"Now empty out all of the weapons and ammunition that you have on your person into the sand."

Adam shook his head slightly, knowing when he was beaten, and removed the pack from his back. Opening it up, he dumped the contents into the sand, and then bent down to pick up the things that he hoped they would let him keep - his wallet and cell phone, along with the two diaries that he'd picked up that he'd shockingly found out belong to Hawley and Madelaine. Stuffing them back inside of the pack, he zipped it up, glancing down with a half-smirk at the bullet holes that riddled the sides of the pack, remembering those instances where he'd been shot in the backpack and not stopped to realize how lucky he'd been. Slipping it back over his shoulders, he glanced up to look at the lead terrorist, unable to resist the sarcasm that gripped him.

"Man, you guys just don't miss a beat, do you? If you're wondering, the only things that I have left have sentimental value to me, so unless you feel like being complete fucking assholes who want to dehumanize me along with forcing me to fight a war with my friends; I'm not giving them up."

The lead terrorist's eyes glared into slits, and he stepped forward, his voice even sterner than it'd been before.

"When I said ALL of your weapons, I meant it, dipshit! I know that isn't it!"

Blinking in surprise, Adam wondered what the man meant. All of the weapons that he'd been carrying had been in his pack; he hadn't had anything else...

Does he know about the knife? Fuck! I thought that I had that concealed well enough! Adam's fingers slipped into his pockets, almost upon instinct, and his eyes widened when he realized what the terrorist had ACTUALLY been looking at. Inside of Adam's pocket was a device large enough to cause an imprint in the pocket of his jeans. It was, in fact, the taser that he'd grabbed off the body of some kid long ago, and had only used to stop himself from getting raped by Jonny Lamika in front of the helicopter crash.

Clinging to the hopeful thought that the terrorists didn't know about his concealed weapon, Adam slowly brought the taser out of his pocket and dropped it in the sand below. Exhaling, he brought up his hands in a gesture of futility.

"All right, man. That's it. If you're going to fucking shoot me, why don't you just get on with it, instead of making me feel any more like a prisoner than I already do?"

Gesturing with one hand to the man beside him, several of the terrorists lowered their weapons and hurried over to the pontoon boat, taking positions near the front of it in order to push it into the water. The main terrorist ignored Adam's question, and simply kept his weapon trained upon Adam. He watched as the terrorists eased the pontoon into the ocean, one extracting a key from a pouch on his vest, unlocking the gate to the boat and lowering what Adam now saw was neither a ramp nor a ladder, but in fact stairs. Three of the men quickly made their way onto the stairs, one going into the presumed pilot's area and starting up the boat. The motor made a whirring noise as it started up and began to run smoothly. Two of the men that were still standing behind the main terrorist made their way over to where Adam was standing and stood behind him, their weapons still drawn.

"Step onto the boat."

Glancing around, Adam knew that with all of the guns pointed at him, his options were incredibly limited. In fact, they were essentially limited to one thing, and one thing only: complying with whatever these men said. It didn't, of course, mean that he had to like it.

"You guys know that if I get on that boat and you go too far away from the island, you're all going to be covered with the contents of whatever I ate for lunch today? So, like... mushy crackers and my own blood?"

The man just glared at Adam.

"That will be taken care of. Just get on the boat."

Now the spires and the gables
grow in orchards to the sky
And the blessings on my table
multiply and divide

Slowly, Adam took a step forward, bracing for the impact of bullets that never came. Shoulders slumping, he began to walk towards the boat, the aim of the two men behind him almost burning a hole through his back. As he stepped towards the boat, he finally came to the realization that he was stepping off of the island, likely for good.

This is the one moment that I've looked forward to since I woke up ten days ago, and for some weird reason, I'm almost apprehensive. Maybe because of the fact that I don't know how long I'm going to live past this point, but for some reason, it seems as though I'm leaving something important behind. It seems odd, but I've almost become accustomed to the island, as though it's something that is so important to me that I can't leave it behind. If I do manage to live to be an old man, like I'd thought, these few days are going to undoubtedly be some of the most defining moments in my entire life. Maybe it's just that I know I'm leaving something behind that has changed me so much, and altered how I look at things, and how I'm going to live my life. Could it be that I've gotten used to be running for my life? Can someone ever actually get used to that? I suppose...

...I suppose I'm about to find out...

As he neared the edge of the beach, something caught his eye. It wasn't anything that hadn't been there before, yet it was undoubtedly something that he probably would have noticed quite quickly, especially if it hadn't been for the boat sitting on the shoreline. Stopping suddenly, he looked over at this object, lying beside a tree, and something inside of his mind screamed at him that he needed to make sure that he returned this object back home with him. Walking over to the object, ignoring the surprised shouts of the terrorists who'd been 'guarding' him, he thought of the best way that he could possibly manage to do this. Grimacing, he leaned down, and picked up the object, straining a little bit under its weight.

As he turned around, the lead terrorist was almost shocked to see that Adam had picked up, in a classic example of a fireman's carry - the corpse of Andrew Lipson, and intended upon bringing it aboard the pontoon.

Walking towards the pontoon boat, Adam struggled under the weight of the corpse, but had a determined look on his face that threw all of the terrorists off their guard for a moment, which let Adam walk right past the surprised ones on the ground. The leader was the first to regain his composure, and shouted out immediately.

"Put that down, you can not bring that with you!"

Adam ignored him, continuing on until he hit the water. Not bothering to hesitate at all, he walked into the water, the cool water splashing into his shoes and waking him up a little bit. Grunting, he struggled over to the stairs, where a terrorist was standing at the top, slack-jawedly blocking the way. The lead terrorist again shouted out to Adam.

"Can't you hear? I said - put it down!"

This time, Adam turned towards the terrorist leader, and looked him dead in the eye, exchanging cold stares with him, and then grunting out his response.

"It's my... best... friend... you fucking asshole! He... deserved... more than... this!"

The solider just looked Adam dead in the eye, raised his weapon, and took a very careful aim, speaking very slowly and very clearly so that Adam could not help but understand him.

"If you do not put that fucking corpse down right now, I will shoot you where you stand. Danya said that you were not to be harmed, unless you put up any resistance. But do not be fooled, I will not hesitate to kill you. Now... put it down."

As Adam heard the man's utterly serious words cut right to the point of the matter, he realized that he likely wouldn't get anywhere trying to bring a corpse aboard. He had no bargaining power, as there was a multitude of ways that the terrorists could likely arrange to kill him, most of which would likely be immensely painful. Head sagging a bit, he slowly shifted and let the corpse slide off of his shoulders and into the water, without so much as a splash. Adam's eyes held to the water, as he watched his friend's body drift away in the waves.

"Goodbye, dude... "

When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
Yeah when you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away
Yeah when you come down to take me home
when you come round you'll make me whole
Yeah when you come round to take me home

Adam's moment of solitude was almost rudely interrupted by the prodding of a rifle at his back, intended upon relaying the rather clear message that he was to walk up the stairs and get onto the boat. The metallic railing that surrounded the stairs was cool, and to the touch it seemed like an unfamiliar sensation against Adam's calloused hands, that seemed so used to carrying weapons. There had been guns, knives; baseball bats... Adam had essentially been holding a weapon for the past ten days straight, hardly stopping to put them down, knowing that if he did, it could mean the difference between life and death. So as he pulled himself up onto the stairs, his dripping feet leaving wet trails on the steps that he slowly walked up, almost having to pull himself onto the pontoon. The two soldiers who'd been following him continued to do so, and the lead man, who was already on the pontoon gestured to a seat right in the middle of the boat, which Adam slowly walked over to and sat down on. As he sat, he was facing towards the back of the boat, giving him a look at the shoreline. His eyes scanned down the length of the beach once more, only half-listening to the footsteps of the soldiers as they all boarded the pontoon. Adam found himself relatively surprised that he wasn't handcuffed, but truth be told, all thoughts of escape had pretty much left themselves on the ground of the island, along with the pile of weapons that he could see sitting on the shore from when he'd emptied his pack. There just didn't seem to be a point to even attempting anything at all. He was surrounded by terrorists with assault rifles, and the only place that he could attempt to run to was the island itself, a place that frankly, he'd be happy if he never saw again.

I've lived a lot of places in my life - two different houses in Canada, one in the United States of America, and then this island, my home for the last couple of days. It's really a crapshoot where I did more growing as a person - here, or Canada. It's unfortunate, but I'd almost have to go with here. Ten days of my life, and it honestly seemed like a fucking year. But while I'd love to go back to Canada, this fucking place will be the bane of my dreams, the place of nightmares for me likely for years to come. And what's next for me? Fucked if I know. They're taking me to a place that I don't know of, for a purpose that I don't know about. Apparently Danya wants something with me. Hopefully it'll be to toss me on the next plane out of the shithole, and not to toss me back into whatever diabolical fucking scheme that he's plotting now that this is all over. Maybe if I get the chance, I'll do what I said I would do. I'll kill him, and when the guards shoot me, my death won't have been in vain. I suppose... I suppose we'll have to see what happens now.

As the boat began to move away from the island, Adam got his first look at the beach from afar. As he looked down the entire beach, using what little light there was left to take a look at the full extent that Survival of the Fittest had done to the once-serene landscape. Corpses lay strewn amongst the beach, and Adam could now see that there were far more than he had realized. Perhaps he'd been blocking the sight of them from his mind, but there seemed to be at least four corpses lying in various places on the beach, blood staining the ground in some areas, what seemed like a haze of destruction surrounding the area. Feeling his mouth drop open, Adam couldn't help but mutter at the sight.

"Damn... "

As he gaped at the landscape before him, he failed to notice one of the soldiers come up behind him and jab some sort of device into the collar around his neck. A loud beeping noise sounded, and Adam's eyes went wide with horror. Had the soldier just activated his collar? The beeping noise sped up as the seconds passed, and Adam's horrified look could likely only be matched by anyone who'd been in a similar situation. Bracing himself for the inevitable explosion, Adam only had seconds to think about what his last thoughts would be, and from his perspective, they weren't exactly the ones he'd been intending to have.

I didn't even get a proper last meal...

Of course, as the beeping got to its apex, and Adam clenched his eyes to brace himself for the feeling of having his head blow off of his shoulders, he was incredibly surprised as the beeping collar suddenly stopped, and simply fell off of his neck and into his lap. Opening his eyes in surprise, he stared at the collar that sat in his lap, the one restraint that had prevented him from escaping the island. How many times had someone said something like 'we'll be fine if we can get these collars off'? Adam knew that the phrase had come about quite a bit - in fact, he'd said it himself, and after all of it was said and done; his collar was lying dormant in his lap. Not wanting to let it lie near his genitals any more than he absolutely had to, Adam picked up the collar and, without thinking about any possible consequences for his actions, tossed it overboard and into the water, where it quickly sunk away from sight. He then put his hand up to the skin on his neck that had previously been encased by the horrific device and rubbed it tenderly. One of the terrorists behind him burst into a chuckle, and Adam slowly turned his body around and stared the man right in the face. On one hand, Adam could not believe that the man would be making light of such events, but knowing that he was likely one of the ones who believed in whatever sick cause Danya had set up for Survival of the Fittest, he couldn't exactly be all that surprised that he was laughing. Being the one poor bastard who got to survive through their hellish plan, though, Adam wanted to shut the man up, as the laughing was making him nauseous.

"What the fuck is so funny? I've had explosives strapped to my neck for the last ten days, and the second that someone takes them off, you're damn fuckin' snappy that I'm going to toss it into the ocean. What, you don't think so? Here, we'll do this, then. You give me another collar, get one of your little buddies to strap it to your cock, and then we'll make it beep a few times - then see who's throwing what into the ocean."

The man's expression instantly hardened, and his eyes became flush with embarrassment. Glaring, he shot back with a retort.

"How about you turn the fuck around, or I'll toss YOU into the ocean. How's that sound, smart guy?"

Adam smirked, his sarcastic side coming to the forefront. His smirk turned into a slight grin, which he quickly hid from the terrorist. Through it all, Adam was glad that at the very least, while he'd lost almost everything else - he still had his sense of humour.

"Sounds like a piss-poor excuse for a comeback, but hey. You're the man with the REALLY big gun... but, I'll shut up."

Slowly turning around, the smirk still retained on his face, Adam heard one of the other terrorists unsuccessfully stifle a chuckle. Good. Any victory against these guys is huge, even if it's just a small moral victory for me... God only knows I could use any kind of moral support right now... Tuning out the terrorists, Adam looked back again at the island. Since they were far enough away, Adam was able to see the other parts of the island, like the Lookout point that he'd first started on, and the Lighthouse that him, Hawley, and Alan had been attacked at. Seeing these places from a distance just reminded him more and more of memories that seemed to have taken place so long ago...

But they'll always be fresh... no matter if it's two hours, two months, or two decades from now... I'll always remember... always...

Sighing to himself, Adam simply watched the distance increase between him and the island, getting lost in his own thoughts, and his own memories, with a small fraction wondering just what would happen next.

Send my soul away
Send my soul away
Send my soul away
Send my soul away

Survival of the Fittest: Day 10
Post-Game
A Freighter Somewhere in the Ocean


To Adam, the hours had melted away as though they were layers of an ice cube, finally becoming so warm that the final layer dissipated into moisture. Of course, time couldn't actually be compared to the burning of an ice cube, but his damaged mind was finding all kinds of odd metaphors that he'd never thought of before. Upon the pontoon boat reaching its destination - a large ship that looked a lot, to Adam at least, like a battleship, it docked with the large ship and he was ushered aboard. It took Adam a lot more energy then he'd figured to climb up the rope ladder onto the ship, and it was then that he realized that his body was a lot more damaged than he'd originally assumed. Upon getting to the deck of the ship, which was rather sparsely populated, two of the terrorists marched him into the interior of the ship and into what seemed like an infirmary of sorts. Adam had reflected at the time that it doubled as a prison, as there was undoubtedly no way out of the large room, nor was there anything in it he could possibly use as a weapon if he were thinking of escaping. As he sat on the examination table in the center of the large room, he observed his surroundings with a sense of awe. Nobody seemed to be coming into the room with any urgency, so Adam assumed that he was basically here to wait until they got to whatever destination they planned on heading to next. Adam was a little surprised that he was feeling as emotionless as he was, but he attributed it primarily to shock. That and a rather large feeling of fatigue. He hadn't slept much in the last ten days, and what little moments of sleep he'd had were barely enough to keep him from going insane.

Adam had sat on the bed for what seemed like an hour before a man had come into the room, accompanied by a terrorist, who was still masked. The other man, however, was a thin man, unmasked, whose facial features were primarily punctuated by a thick mop of brown hair that sat upon his head in a style not unlike a surfer. His dark eyes betrayed a thick intelligence about him, and Adam couldn't help wondering what kind of sinister ideas this man had in store for him. What Adam didn't expect, of course, was the man to instruct him not to move, telling him that if he did, he would be shot. The man then ordered Adam to remove his shirt, which Adam gingerly did so. The man took one look at the condition of Adam's chest and arms, and his eyes widened a little. Sighing, the man then ordered Adam to lie on his back, to which he did. What happened next, Adam wasn't exactly sure, as when the man reached over and began to pull out the stitches in Adam's axe wound, the pain was so great that he passed out.

Adam woke up much later, in a different room, shirt neatly folded in a corner. The room was again a nondescript room, the metallic walls the exact same as the infirmary walls had been. Still shirtless, Adam managed to take a glance down at his arm and realized that his wound; formerly adorned with pink stitching thanks to the late Hawley Faust, had now been professionally stitched up and affixed with a brand new bandage. Ditto was the gunshot wound in his shoulder, and all of the other various gashes, including a bandage on Adam's ear that didn't stifle him enough from hearing anything, but was enough to cover the ugly hole that Kaige had blown in the side of his head. Wearily, Adam grabbed his shirts off of the ground next to him, and while they were covered in blood, dirty, and stunk to high heaven, he opted against going shirtless, especially around these men, who Adam knew were as brutal as they come. Hearing footsteps at the door, Adam quickly patted his ankle, and much to his surprise, the concealed combat knife still rested on his ankle, the strap holding it in place. Adam had no idea if it would come in handy at all, but having it made him feel all the more secure, especially in the situation that he now found himself in. Snapping himself out of his own thoughts, he looked up as the door to the small room opened, and a terrorist filled the doorframe, weapon pointed at Adam. The man had ordered Adam up, and once Adam had lazily complied, his arm was grabbed, and he was rather violently lead down the hall and tossed in another room.

So it was here that Adam Dodd found himself, looking again with confusion at the third room that he'd found himself in, again with the nondescript metallic walls that seemed to stretch on without any meaningful texture at all. Scratching the stubble on his face (which at this point has almost turned into a full-out beard), he looked around this new room that he'd found himself in. It was a very simple room, and apart from the metal on the walls, the only furniture - in fact, the only things in the room at all were a wooden table and two chairs, one on either side. It reminded him quite a bit of an interrogation room. The only difference that Adam saw to that of a normal interrogation room was that there was no two-way window, and there was another door on the other side of the room.

Yeah, what the fuck is this shit? I feel like I'm in some episode of Law and Order, or CSI... who's going to pop out of that other door? Gil Grissom? That fuckwit David Caruso and his 'I'm just going to try and talk like a badass, because that's the same way I act in every movie' character? What about Andy Sipowicz? Maybe it'll be like Family Guy, and he'll just show me his ass and I'll tell him anything he wants to know. God, what the FUCK is with all of this cliché cloak and dagger crap!? They're carting me from one fucking room to another, saying nothing, and just waiting for me to snap.

"This is fucking ridiculous... "

Adam was only able to mutter that one thing before the door opened on the other side of the room, and he twirled instinctively to avoid being caught off guard. Said door opening was committed by someone who had abandoned all shreds of identity, had abandoned all form of humanity (at least for this very moment). This man, looked like he had gone through hell and back, but much to Adam's surprise he couldn't be more than in his mid-forties. The brown hair that adorned his head had wisps of grey and the cool brown eyes that found themselves staring right at Dodd seemed to hold a mixture of laziness and interest in the boy. The mans face however betrayed said eyes, as he was wrinkled and all around a bit ugly, the brownish mustache and goatee covered with a bit of liquid that had to be either saliva or sweat, but as the man approached the two chairs lazily Dodd finally got view of the rather stocky figure before him.

The man was big, not fat, but stocky. Yes, stocky would describe the man perfectly, the so called appearance of largeness that he conveyed was betrayed in which the speed that he walked, over all showing that the man was too fit to have wasted away his body due to a lack of exercise. He stared at Dodd and a small smile approached his face.

"O' Canada, eh?"

Unknown Date
Unknown Time
A Freighter Somewhere in the Ocean


The voice was sarcastic, yet instead of the booming mockery that hundreds had been accustomed to for ten days; it was softer, more humorous. Perhaps this figure didn't feel the need to taunt Dodd, perhaps he had felt the feel of success and would let Dodd go without much discussion. Yes, and all of a sudden you'd find Adam Dodd waking up and finding out that he was now three hours late for school and had just had the most in-depth dream in all history, meaning, no that wasn't going to happen.

But, still the man stared at Dodd with a gigantic smile on his face, before continuing on with his speech.

"Adam, I know that your greatest wish right now would be to kill me and I'll tell you that mine would also be to have these terrorists shoot you, but before we do all of that final confrontation between good and evil crap, let us have a talk... it seems that judging by your morphine induced rants, you have a lot to say to me."

The look on Adam's face could have told a blind man that Adam was absolutely taken aback by the appearance of this new man, this man who needed no introduction - as the booming voice was enough to identify him. Caught completely off guard, Adam absentmindedly took a step backwards, but composed himself and shut his mouth. It was then that Adam did something that likely caught the man in front of him off-guard as well.

As he stared at the man in front of him, Adam Dodd began to laugh, first a small laugh, quickly building until Adam was laughing near-hysterically, giving the impression that he was some form of mental patient that hadn't taken his medication for the day. Taking a moment to calm himself down, still laughing a little bit, Adam shook his head at the man standing in front of him.

"Dude... hah... wow... fuck you, man. Fuck you. You want to have a talk? Fine. We'll talk. What shall we talk about? The weather - it's not so bad out today. A little windy, but hey, who's complaining? Or maybe we can talk about, oh, I don't know, sports, or something. You got any favourite sports teams? I'm a big Leafs fan, could you tell? Or, uh, oh, I don't know, we could get into the tiny little matter of you being the bastard who decided it would be a fun little idea to play a novelty game of human chess with the lives of me and my classmates. Y'know, we could talk about that too. But fuck, I'll leave the discussion open for you, MISTER DANYA. You want to shoot the shit? Honestly, I'd much rather just shoot you instead, but since I'm weaponless, gunless, and I'm no Bruce Campbell and I can't chainsaw you to death, I guess I'll have to suffice with a little talk. So... what can I do for you?"

The sarcasm was evident now, and Adam's tone suggested that he almost couldn't believe that this moment was finally happening. Danya simply smiled at Adam's laughing spree, seemingly disinterested. When brought up to the discussion of what to talk about, Danya thought for a moment, and it seemed that he wouldn't say anything for about ten seconds, before he finally spoke.

"Well we could talk about what great jerk-off material Maddie's rape was; forgive me for that pet name, but I won't hesitate to admit that I felt her up while she was knocked out. Oh! I know what we can talk about, Amanda's tits, nice firm ones, really great to feel... mmm... we could talk about how everyone saw your inch worm, not once, but twice... really Dodd, you ruined quite a few fan fictions out there." Danya smirked as he looked at Dodd "Or we could talk about how you are without a doubt totally gay for me! I mean seriously Dodd, was thinking about me what caused that hard on when Kaige fucked you? Because if there is one thing that had been a constant through this crazy journey we call Survival of the Fittest, it was you thinking about me, and really Dodd, I'm touched, but I have a wife and kids, y'know... I can't deal with lumberjacks who fuck beavers in their spare time." he paused "Besides I heard maple syrup was a very bad lubricant."

Adam scoffed at Danya's attempts to rile him up, though he had to admit, the subjects he mocked were sensitive ones.

"Oh wow, look at you! You can whip out Canadian stereotypes! Good for you! Is that all you've got? Come on! I expected more out of you, Danya! Shit, you're the one person whose name I've been cursing up and down the island for the entire stint - you're the one that every single person who died out there feared in some capacity, and the best you can do is remind me of shit that I already knew? Yeah, I knew that you liked to jerk it to the rape of little girls. Yeah, I GET it - you like young girls. But the best material that you can come up with is some lame shit about me being a fucking lumberjack? Go to hell. You don't know me at all. You don't know what it was like down there. You said coming in to this that the winner would be the 'Survivor of the Fittest', basically the one person who would outlast everyone else and prove that they deserved to live. Well, Danya... here I am. I won. I'm the last one left. Doesn't that... grind your gears, a little? That I said I'd win, and I'd stand in front of you at the end? I mean, don't tell me it didn't get under your skin at least a little bit... "

"Not really. I actually was betting on you; doubt you could've done it without me. I mean besides that you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me, but really, that's just going on details alone. Now, Dodd, I'll admit that maybe the last few words were uncalled for, but what the fuck? I'm a busy man, can't go around spending my time talking to kids, figured I'd get you to jump at me and let the terrorists kill you before we started this discussion, was that so wrong?" Danya said, but he didn't allow Dodd to answer.

"No Dodd, don't answer that. But, seriously, you DO want to talk to me. You DO want to get home, imagine how horrible it would've been if all that hallucinating you did on the island was for naught and you just died right here, right now." Danya then looked at Adam and said surprisingly calmly "I've asked you to kill your friends and you did that. My next request is something a lot harder to do, and that is to talk to me in a civil tone, can you do that Adam?"

Adam grimaced and bit his tongue, taking a second to compose himself.

"Well, that is asking a bit much, but I think I can probably... attempt it. If for no other reason than I don't feel like getting shot at again. But...all kidding, sarcasm, and anger aside... Danya... I battled through your fucking game for ten days. I lost pretty much everyone I cared about, everyone I knew from school, and most of the people in my fucking grade. I saw countless people die, I killed like, something ridiculous like fourteen people myself, and I basically went through a war, simply for your game. So... I've got to ask you... why?"

Danya sighed at Dodd and looked at the boy with a really deep form of regret, really if the mean Danya that everyone had come to hate existed, he was gone in that one moment replaced by a man who was without a doubt going through something human-esque like remorse. As Danya stood there for a good minute he then looked at Dodd in the eyes and said calmly.

"I can't tell you that Adam, but I'll tell you that injustice is a horrible thing and that sometimes you need to sacrifice something inconsequential to prevent injustice, said injustice being the United States, and something inconsequential is your life." Danya paused as he looked at Dodd, "A few years ago, I met a kid, real smart kid, we went into a coffee house and we started talking about terrorist attacks against the U.S. and this kid gave me an idea. Columbine, as you know, was two American children killing thirteen other kids, and it brought the nation to its knees, so we decided to do it on a larger scale - hundreds of kids killing hundreds of kids. The number goes to about 200 if you count the kids from the last game. Does the name Sidney Moravan ring a bell? Yeah, he was the survivor from the last game, died on day one in this one... we planned that if we reproduced Columbine, kids killing kids, we'd bring the nation to its knees." Danya sighed.

"And I'll be frank, what you've survived today is a turning point in America's history, and Dodd, be grateful that you survived this, be grateful that you'll get to see it unfold." Danya smiled "Because I guarantee you, it ain't something you're going to want to miss."

Adam's face scrunched up as he listened to Danya's story, to the explanation that hadn't at all been what he was looking for. Shaking his head a little, he asked again.

"But... see, Danya - here's what really fucks with my mind a little bit. As you're aware, I was down there for the whole ten days. I met a lot of people - who are, of course, all dead right now, thanks to you. But... here's the weird part, Danya - and let me throw some names at you, here. Japan. England. Russia. France. Canada. And, like... Andrew Lipson. Cody Jenson. Sidney Crosby. Adam Dodd. Gilbert Archambault. Martyn Ferdinand... "

Adam trailed off, and then shook his head again.

"Danya, none of those names I said to you were Americans! If you meant to bring the American nation to its knees, why would you involve Canadians, Brits, Japanese, and whatnot? If you're so hellbent on bringing the U.S. down, doesn't it piss you off just a little bit that your little competition was won by a Canadian?! In fact, the final four - three of us were Canadians, man. Like, it can't just be that, because you guys went out of your way to get a diverse group of people! You kidnapped a fucking handicapped kid from his house - see, that's the big thing, too. What the hell, man? You had to know that he had no fucking way of surviving this - and he died here. Andrew Lipson was my best friend. You kidnapped him from his house, and you brought him here to die. Where's your justice there, Danya? Where's your turning point? Okay, I understand Crosby - here's a big sports figure that's still just a kid. But Lipson? Doesn't make any sense, man. Maybe my life is forfeit to you, but to me it means a hell of a lot, and it makes me really wonder who the hell you think you are to say who lives and who dies."

"Who is god?" Danya said with a small smile "Dodd, I'll be frank, that's all I'm telling you, I don't need to be bothered as to why I picked these people, I mean honestly, it spiced things up a bit! It tested you guys! It's easy to kill a regular kid, but what kind of sick fuck messes with a handicapped dude? And the answer is once again, GOD! Lipson didn't get killed by SOTF, he got killed by a fucking lightening bolt - fuck, you were talking to him! I mean, let's be rational here, it's one thing to blame me for bringing Lipson here, another thing to say he died because of me, it could've happened to him anywhere, besides, I'm sure that Lipson dying here gave you some motivation! Nothing like the avenger, nothing like it, and it gave you enough adrenaline, I would say more than anything... in fact I'd go as far to say that Lipson's death is what you'll never get over. You killed Jenson... but who's left to murder, Dodd? Who are you going to kill to avenge your wheel chaired bound companion? No one. Shit happens." Danya sighed "Is there anything else that you wanted to talk to me about, besides of course all of your friends that died? I get it that you're pissed off about it, but seriously Adam, stop with the pity party... "

Adam scratched his stubble. "Pity party? Y'know Danya, for an old fucker like yourself, you certainly have the vocabulary of some lame fucker who watches Will Ferrell movies and jumps for joy whenever he tries to be funny. I think that I've earned the right to stand here in front of you and bitch and complain about whatever the fuck I want to. Remember, I won your little game - I won your little competition. So if I want to talk about Andrew Lipson - you know what? I'm going to. He was my best friend - me, him, Adam Amato, Andrew Ponikarovsky - we were tight, man. We had a fucking tight friendship. The kind of guys you would trust with your life. Lipson and I got shit on by some big company, they moved our families to the States, and then this shit happens. You came along. Andrew was the one guy I've known forever that I was able to talk to about anything, y'know? He was my best friend. And who messes with a handicapped dude? You do, man. You do. As much as I may be pissed about you being responsible for the death of my friend, I'm not even touching the other names that I'd love for you to disrespect - Amanda Jones, Madelaine Shirohara, Hawley Faust... I'm sure you know who THEY are. They're all people who had better character in their short lives than you ever will in yours."

Adam took a step towards Danya, a scowl on his face.

"So what now, jackass? Do you toss me back into your next game? Is that what you're going to do? Is it some sick little thing that the winner doesn't actually win? Syd Morvran sure got the shit end of the stick, what's there to say that you aren't going to show it to me, too? I've been hell-bent on getting to the end for one reason - so I can go home. That's the one thing that motivated me, really, it is. I wanted to go home. I wanted to take my friends with me, but unfortunately, that didn't happen. But here I am, just me, standing here before you, completely defenseless, covered in bruises, cuts, and wounds, staring up into the face of pure evil. What's next? Hm? What ends up being next for the winner of Survival of the Fittest? What ends up being the next step for Adam Dodd, eh, Danny?"

"I was actually hoping for tea, but y'know Dodd, you can get your little wish to go home. It really doesn't matter to me, but know of course that it is difficult. You know, that whole 'getting you into the country' thing. But, whatever you wish, it doesn't matter to me."

Danya sighed "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make fun of Will Ferrell, he's a genius, and I mean Anchorman? Fucking awesome." he sighed, "but that is neither here nor there. I ask you, Adam... are you fucking finished? Really? I made you kids kill each other, we get it! We in here were subjected to every one of your tiresome rants. I ask you Dodd as we stand here right now... now what do you do? What is your plan? I mean, I see a spark in you, Adam. I could let you be my terrorist. You did kill with such heartlessness, how would you like to hijack the kids for the next game? I mean wouldn't that be all sorts of fucked up, put a collar on you, make you subject kids to the next game... or maybe you can become me, sort of like 'the new Danya'... that would be pretty kick ass. As you can see, I'm old, and I need an apprentice... but...then again, I could just kill you now. It would make things a lot easier, don't you think?"

Adam's face hardened, and his eyes went cold as marbles.

"You know something, Danya? This entire time, you've mocked me relentlessly. You've basically enjoyed what you've done here. I can see it in your eyes. But you weren't the one who went through all of this. You didn't play in your own game. Probably smart of you - with all of that fat, you probably wouldn't be able to waddle away from anything, let alone survive. You talk like you own the world - and maybe, in your own sick, twisted mind, you do. You could kill me right now, but then you'd be defeating yourself. Instead of proving a point, you'd basically just be labeling yourself as a mass murderer. If there isn't a survivor, then you don't win, Danya. Do you get that? If you kill me, then the US has no reason not to hunt you down as relentlessly as they did Saddam Hussein. You have to leave me alive, Danya. Which for you, is a shame. Y'know why?"

"No, but somehow I feel like you're about to tell me. So spit it out, Dodd, tell me what have you learned in these past ten days that should make you value human life? Tell me why, after killing over 200 kids should I even care? The point is made, the American people SAW you kill the kids, and your survival means nothing except that they have some strain of hope. But for the sake of dramatics, please, tell me why you need to live?" Danya said with a gigantic smile of his face.

Adam simply shook his head. "If I die, you fucking idiot, then you have nobody to believe you. For all the public knows, we're all actors on some sick new reality show that the US government is putting on to garner support to attack some third world country somewhere. You have to let me live, because as the winner, as the survivor, I give you credibility. It's credibility that you don't even come close to deserving, but it happens. Also, Danya, it's credibility that you won't be around to see."

As Adam was about to make another point, the lights began to flicker, and a sound that seemed to indicate a massive power failure could be heard all around. Adam blinked once, before slumping in his chair, letting his confusion sink in. As he wondered what could be going on, his eyes immediately widened, as he knew exactly what was going on.

It's Jack O'Connor's virus!

As he saw the confused look on Danya's face, that was the opening that he needed. Bringing his leg up to his hand, he quickly grabbed the knife from the holster that he was wearing around his ankle, and hid it underneath the table on his lap. He managed to do this in one fluid motion; so much so that Danya wasn't able to see him do it, as he had began to look around with confusion at the flickering lights. Adam simply grinned at Danya, whose attention immediately went back to Adam, who had begun to talk again.

"You want to know what I've learned in the past ten days? I've learned a lot, Danya. And at the end of it all, you know what I've realized about myself? Get ready for this - it's completely your fault, too."

Adam looked at Danya, straight in his beady little eyes, and smiled a small smile.

"I've got nothing left to lose."

It was then that Adam took Danya completely off-guard, flipping the wooden table up towards Danya, who, instinctively put up his arms to shield himself. Jumping up out of his chair with more speed than he figured he had at that moment, Adam gritted his teeth and slashed upwards towards Danya's face. The knife ran itself all the way from the lower-left bottom of Danya's chin to his upper-right temple, spilling his blood onto Adam's sleeve. Screaming in surprised pain, Adam quickly brought the knife down and stabbed Danya right in his large gut, twisting the knife as it stabbed into the man's chest. Danya went down quickly, and Adam gave him a big kick in the gut as he did. Blood began to run down the blade of the knife and onto the ground as Danya writhed in agony. Adam gave him another kick to the stomach, and began to yell loudly at Danya as he kicked away at him.

"How the FUCK does it feel, Danya? HUH!? How does it feel to spill your own blood for no good reason?! How the FUCK does it feel!? All of those rants you mentioned - they weren't tiresome - they were a whole bunch of fucking warnings! I TOLD YOU that I'd be here, being the one person who would be responsible for your death! I fucking told you that you'd be the last person I'd ever fucking kill! SO HOW DOES IT FEEL, DANYA!? HOW DOES IT FEEL TO FEEL LIKE I HAVE FOR THE LAST TEN DAYS? YOU STOLE MY FUCKING LIFE, DANYA! YOU STOLE IT, AND FOR THAT, YOU HAVE TO DIE!"

As Adam gave Danya one big kick, both doors burst open and terrorists with guns instantly swarmed into the room, obviously set off by the virus and wanting to protect their leader. As soon as they saw that Danya was on the ground, and bleeding, Adam felt a powerful punch hit him in the jaw, and he went sprawling back into the wall. This let two of the terrorist grab him and fully restrain him, his jaw throbbing from the punch. Spitting blood onto the floor, Adam watched as a few of the other terrorists helped Danya to his feet. One of them, who Adam recognized as the lead terrorist from the pontoon boat, motioned to Adam with his gun.

"Should we kill him, boss?"

Adam simply looked defiantly at Danya with a bloody smirk.

"Shit... " Danya groaned getting up slowly, "You got me Dodd, you got me good. There is no way... not allowing laptops on the island next game... then again, what does it matter? Flicker the lights a little bit? Was that the best you could do?" Danya rubbed his gut. "Fuck, Adam. What were you trying to do, kill me? Did you really think that you could do that and get out of here alive? You kept saying that you placed such a premium on survival." Danya asked slowly, probably not realizing the irony of his own words.

"Well, I'll be honest, I thought that you were just a fucking useless little kid, but you've got some fucking balls!" Danya said in amazement before looking at the nearest guard.

"Did you see that? Kid kicked my ass! And wouldn't you know it, Jack O'Conner deserves some fucking respect, I thought that he basically did nothing. Hey, Johnson! Go get his skull, I want it to be a paper weight." Danya said laughing wearily, his face turning a sickly colour.

"Well, Adam, that was pretty good, and I've decided that I'll go through the tedious process of sending you home. Oh, and if you ever want to take me up on the terrorist offer, fuck... you might not make that bad of a terrorist with moves like that..." Danya got up and sighed "You stay frosty, Dodd... that was pretty awesome." and with that the juvenile response, Danya rubbed his face "Let's get out of here... I need some medical attention... and I believe that Dodd has given me an idea, after we drop him off... let's just go home, I think we all deserve it after this ten day roller coaster... " and with that, Danya got up, rubbed his face and left the room, most likely leaving a few stunned terrorists in his wake.

Adam himself was rather surprised at the response. He half expected his body to be pumped full of bullets, and when Danya decided that he would actually send him home, Adam's mouth dropped. As he watched Danya walk out of the room, he couldn't help but wonder if the other terrorists were as stunned as he was. It seemed as much, anyways. Adam simply kept looking at the doorway, not wanting to make a move, nor wanting to break the silence. Instead, one of the terrorists did it for him.

"Well, you heard the man... "

That was the last thing that Adam heard as something large and heavy slammed into the back of his head, and he collapsed into a heap on the ground, knocked completely unconscious.

Unknown Date
Unknown Time
Unknown Location

As the world came back into some semblance of focus, Adam Dodd had no idea if he were even alive anymore. The throbbing in the back of his head seemed to be completely concentrated in one very specific area, and he felt as though he had a complete lack of balance. Adam also felt quite groggy, and his mind didn't seem to be working properly yet as he fought to regain consciousness. As his mind came around, the first thing that he realized was that he was lying down, and everything was black. Groaning a little, he tried to roll around, quickly realizing that his hands were bound. Panicking a little bit, he tried to move his head around, but came to another realization - his head was covered in a black hood-like object, something he assumed was like that seen in crime films, whenever someone is taken hostage or kidnapped, to prevent them to see where they're headed. Coughing a little bit, Adam's head began to take in more of the sounds around him, as he finally began to retain his full awareness. It sounded as though he were in some sort of vehicle, a fact that was confirmed by the occasional bumping and grinding of what sounded to be an axel underneath him, along with the stopping and starting that would match up with him being in some sort of automobile.

I think the big question would be... where the hell am I?

Attempting to listen to the sounds around him, Adam simply managed to focus in on his throbbing headache some more. The bruise on the back of his skull hurt like hell, and judging by the fact that Adam had managed to go up against what he figured had to be the personification of Satan himself, and somehow managed to live to tell the tale, he felt pretty good about that. Though, he couldn't help but think to himself that he had no idea for even how long he would be alive at this point, being as that he was bound and essentially shut out from the rest of the world. Danya had said that he would send him home, even after Adam had attempted to kill him, and he had no idea if the man were being truthful or if he were just getting his men to toss Adam from a cliff. All Adam really knew right now was that he seemed to be in a car of sorts, his head was absolutely swimming, likely from the beating he'd taken from the soldiers, and he could feel that he was still wearing his knapsack. Attempting to scratch an itch on his leg, he flexed his hands out, testing the strength of the ropes that bound his limbs. They seemed to be attached rather firmly.

So here we are, at the end of the line, one way or another. It's sort of like the endgame of Survivor, the time when the jury asks you questions to determine who they believe should get the million dollar prize. If you're at that point, you know that there's nothing more that you can do for yourself. It's what Probst always says: 'now the power shifts to the jury'. Only this time, there's no jury of my peers, this jury is made up of stone-cold killers, none of whom know me nor give a flying shit about me. I have virtually no say in what's going to happen to me - do I win the million dollar prize, or do I have to settle for the runner-up prize? I guess I'd have to admit that I'm pulling for one over the other. How can I not? The winner gets to escape with their life; the runner up doesn't get anything but cold death. And maybe that's how it's all going to end - with no winner at all, only runner-ups. I can't say that I'd be all that pleased - in fact, in the moments before I died, I'd be downright pissed off, but I guess the positive would be that I could say that I fought all the way through it, and never gave up. Not like anyone would ever know, though. I guess we'll just have to wait and see where this car ride takes me.

Moving his neck to one side, Adam winced as it cracked rather loudly, the sound echoing in the interior of the vehicle. Adam did the same thing with the other side of his neck, trying to loosen his muscles up, a solitary thought in the back of his mind wondering why he was so stiff to begin with.

How long have I been unconscious for...?

Adam hardly got the chance to think it over any further before he felt the vehicle slow down a little bit. A voice spoke out - apparently, he wasn't alone in this vehicle, though Adam couldn't hear what it was that the man said. Someone else replied back to him and again, the words were incomprehensible, thanks to the black sleeve around Adam's head. Adam heard the sound of what he thought might have been a door opening, and without any warning, he was wrenched to his feet. Dazed, his legs feeling weak, Adam struggled to maintain his balance as he felt arms holding him upright. The vehicle was still moving, causing Adam to wonder what exactly was going to happen to him. Someone grabbed his hands and dragged them upwards, running something along the length of rope, causing it to become slack and nowhere near as tight as it had been before. Adam was surprised, but even more surprised when a pair of hands impacted against his chest and sent him sprawling backwards, out of the vehicle, and flying through the air. Adam seemed to hover in the air for a second, and with an impact that knocked the wind right out of him, Adam Dodd landed on solid ground.

It's the perfect time of year
Somewhere far away from here
I feel fine enough, I guess
Considering everything's a mess.

Grunting as the air passed from his lungs, Adam rolled around on the ground, feeling grass beneath his fingertips as he struggled to find his breath. Managing to do so after a moment, he tested the rope that had been restraining his hands, and found that as soon as he put pressure on the rope, it snapped apart, falling to the ground and letting him flex his wrists and stretch his arms, the joints popping as he flexed them out. Finally, Adam brought his hands up to the black sheet that was overtop of his face, and pulled it off, his eyes instantly shutting tight as the bright sun slammed onto his face. Recoiling a little, he blinked several times, trying to let his eyes adjust to the new conditions that he had been thrown into. Finally, Adam opened his eyes and looked up, and what he saw hit him as hard as a slap in the face. Slowly, he scrambled to his feet, letting the knapsack slide off of his back and hang in one hand, gaping at the sight in front of him.

Barry Coleson High School, on a normal summer day, would likely be looked at as an upper-class high school, for it was a large school and had an air of superiority about the building itself. The school and both of its floors stretched a wide expanse of area, and the parking lot would sit beside it, ordinarily filled with cars of all different types and colours. Behind the school was a track, as well as a football field, both so that the school's various athletic teams would be able to practice for any upcoming games or competitions. What satisfied the requirements that Barry Coleson High School needed to become a state-of-the-art, middle-to-upper class high school was the flag that stood in front of the school, proudly displaying the American flag for all to see.

Well, here it was, a normal summer day, and Barry Coleson High School looked exactly as it should, and exactly as it probably would on any other day of the year. The parking lot looked a little fuller than usual and Adam saw that there seemed to be at least six police cars parked in it, and the flag that stood out in front of the school was at half-mast. Everything else looked exactly the same. His mouth still agape, Adam looked around, taking in the sights that seemed to have been familiar in another lifetime. The neighborhood around the school, the sidewalks, and the parks - they were all there. Adam couldn't believe it.

He was home.

Adam glanced down at himself. He still looked as he had on the Survival of the Fittest island - clad in his customized Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, underneath it his green Audioslave t-shirt, with his usual jeans and black Nike Shox. The Leafs jersey had holes in it thanks to the various battles that he'd been in, and it was a mess, covered in dirt and blood. His jeans were ripped at the knees, also having various splotches of blood staining them. His black shoes didn't even seem to be black anymore, but stained with blood and dirt, seemed to be a dark purple. Adam knew it, he looked like hell, but he was alive, and he was home. The self-imposed silence that he'd taken was shattered by a familiar sound of the school bell going off, signifying the end of one period, telling the students to head to their next class. Eyes going wide, Adam felt a strong sense of familiarity making its way back into his head, struggling to remember where he'd likely be heading to at this very moment.

There's a restaurant down the street
Where hungry people like to eat
I could walk, but I'll just drive
It's colder than it looks outside.

Taking a step towards the school, Adam then instantly turned around and threw up all over the sidewalk. Mostly bile and water, Adam couldn't bear to take a step towards the school. Outside, it was deserted, so he knew that the likelihood of class going on right at this very second was rather good. As much as he wanted to walk inside of the school, he couldn't bring himself to take another step towards the building. He didn't know what would occur first - the horrible feelings that all of his friends were never coming back there or a mental breakdown when he was assailed with questions. His stomach growled fiercely at him, and he realized that if there was one place he needed to go - it was home. His family would likely be worried sick about him, and probably going through various stages of anxiety. He needed to go home, and reassure them that he was all right, even if it were only a half-truth. Physically, he assumed that after the patch-job Danya's cronies had given him, he'd likely survive. Mentally... that was a different story. Though, at this point in time, the shock of being free and alive was causing his emotions to be rather dulled. Pulling himself up, he turned away from the school and began to walk down the sidewalk, towards his house.

Adam didn't live too far away from the school, and usually walked to school on most days that it wasn't blizzarding, unless he had some obscenely large project to hand in, or something like that. It was about a ten minute walk, but it wasn't a bad place to live, all things considered. It was close to his school, and in the distance between his school and his house, there was a small shopping center, with a few fast-food places, a supermarket, video store, and other essentials. Feeling the warm summer breeze on his face, Adam turned and began to walk in the direction of his house.

The real world just doesn't seem so real anymore. There is so much that we, as a society take for granted in our day-to-day lives. From being able to pop into the supermarket and grab a couple of pizza pockets for dinner, to crossing the street safely. There's just so much shit that goes on in this world that none of us realize how lucky we are to be living in a so-called 'safe' society. The last couple of days, they've really been a wake-up call, if nothing else. If I can take one slight positive; one silver lining away from this motherfucker of a storm that descended upon us, it's that I certainly know how lucky we are to be able to live the way that we do. Without people shooting at us when we go out to grab the morning paper. Without bombs dropping upon our houses in the middle of the day. Without being forced to enlist in the army upon your sixteenth birthday. It's kind of fucked up, that we live in a country that so many people have such strong issues with. Canada - it's the same. People in both countries think that there are so many different problems that we have that - if they aren't fixed, it'll be the end of the world! Well, y'know what? We've really got it easy. You can't help but realize, especially when you basically live through that kind of life - not knowing who's out to kill you, or if a bomb is going to go off at any second. That's a lot of what the last ten days taught me, if nothing else. Was the lesson worth it? Was it worth killing twelve people, losing all of my friends, and basically living in a war-zone?

Fuck no.

But it happened. There isn't much that I can do to change that, and really, I have to take out every positive that I can from it. At this point, I can't allow myself to grieve; I have to shut off the emotions. I know that if I turn them on again, I'll break down. I need to be strong, for my family, for those whose brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, girlfriends and boyfriends all perished in Survival of the Fittest. It's sort of like when you're the captain of a hockey team, and you have a losing record. You need to be strong, stand up to the media, and be the face of the team. Well, this time, instead of representing a team of hockey players, I'm representing someone completely different.

This time, it's almost one hundred and twenty of my dead peers.

It's like a dream - you try to remember but it's gone...then ya
Try to scream but it only comes out as a yawn, when ya
Try to see the world beyond your front door.
Take your time 'cuz the way I rhyme's gonna make you smile, when ya
Realize that with a guy my size it might take a while, just to
Try to figure out what all this is for.

Adam stopped in front of a large building that seemed to ominously loom in front of him. He'd been walking with his head up, his eyes constantly scanning the streets in an almost paranoid manner, but his brain has essentially been tuned out. As such, he'd ended up at a place that he hadn't been anticipating on heading, but all the same, he was most definitely glad that he was here. It was evident to him just which part of his body had been guiding him, and as he put his hand out and pushed open the door to the local McDonalds, Adam mused softly to himself that he hadn't eaten anything aside from stale crackers for over a week. Stepping inside of the fast-food establishment, he saw that it was basically empty, save for a few elderly ladies having a lively discussion at the front of the restaurant. The smell of grease wafted into his nostrils, and Adam had to admit - as much as he knew the fast food was horrible for him, it would probably be the best damned meal that he'd ever tasted in his life. Wandering over to a table on the side of the restaurant, Adam removed his knapsack from around his shoulders, and set it down on a chair. He hadn't even taken a look inside of the back - he'd hardly realized that he was wearing it when he'd been tossed out of the vehicle, and he'd just gotten up and began walking. Half-wondering if the backpack would contain some sort of weapon that would get him arrested when he pulled it out, he reached in and searched around for a familiar leather pouch - his wallet that he'd kept on the island, and not discarded.

There was no good reason to keep it, but I did anyways. Maybe it was some sort of subliminal effort to keep my prior life intact. Then again, I don't really like to throw shit away, and losing my wallet is always a pain in the ass...

Taking his wallet out of the decrepit brown pack, Adam slowly removed his debit card from the front slot of the wallet. It felt weird that he was taking out his card again, after almost consigning himself that he'd never be able to do it again. Of course, Adam's emotions were dulled due to the shock, so as he wandered over to the short line-up in front of the counter, he was unable to feel any of the lingering nostalgia that he had. The smells of the greasy food had awakened the sleeping giant that was Adam's appetite, and his stomach growled quite loudly, so much so that the man standing in front of Adam did a half-look back at him. Sniffing, he curled his nose and glanced back up, walking quickly to the register at the far end of the counter. Adam figured that he smelled horrible. He was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. He hadn't showered in days. And here he was, standing back in the real world, where people were going to look at him in disdain because he smelled awful. Adam grinned a little. Being as he'd just fought for his life and essentially won, he couldn't give two shits about the way that he smelled.

Blinking once, the older woman at the cash registered beckoned to him, as the cash register was free, and Adam stepped up to make his order. Glancing up at the menu, he felt an odd inkling to order what he normally would in such a situation, but somehow, it seemed... that his normal order wouldn't be sufficient.

"Can I get... one twenty pack of Chicken McNuggets, a large chocolate milkshake, a super-sized fries, and a bunch of sweet and sour dipping sauces?"

The clerk stared at him for a second like one would stare at an old homeless man or a weed junkie looking for some snacks to satisfy a craving. Adam didn't bother to stare back at her, but simply opened his wallet and produced his debit card. He supposed that in essence, he probably looked the part. His formerly blue Toronto Maple Leafs jersey was stained with dirt and blood, causing it to look a dirty brownish red in spots, as opposed to the deep blue that it'd been before. There were holes in his clothes in many a place, from his shoulder where he'd been shot to the knees of his jeans, which were both ripped, his knees skinned from some encounter that Adam couldn't even remember occurring. He was certain that his ear probably looked none the worse for wear, either, and he couldn't help but wonder just what Danya's doctors had done to that. He hadn't shaven in at least eleven days, and while Adam had no way to tell what day it was, or how long he'd been out for, he could feel the facial hair on his face that told him that it'd at least been two weeks.

Two weeks, eleven days, six months, fifteen years... time is starting to seem like it isn't so relative after all. In fact, it's just seeming that every minute is ten times LONGER than it's supposed to be.

Handing the clerk his debit card, Adam gazed around the restaurant once more. The man who'd been in front of him had gone and sat down in the back of the dining area, and the elderly ladies had stopped their lively conversation and were staring right at him. In fact, now that he actually realized it, everyone in the restaurant who was within view of him was staring directly at him. The clerk slowly handed back the debit pad, and Adam focused really hard to try and remember his PIN number.

It's... jeez, it hasn't been that long, has it? Seems like another life that money was ever an issue...

Punching in a number that he guessed was his PIN, he handed the debit pad back to the clerk and waited to see if the little green screen on the front would deny him the meal of his lifetime. It did not, and Adam's shoulder sagged a little, as though some weight had been lifted off of him. The clerk gave him his receipt, and then stepped over to the milkshake machine to begin to make his meal. Still, the drive-thru attendant, the ladies at the table to his right, the man who'd been in front of him, and the kitchen staff who weren't making orders still kept staring at him, almost as though they'd seen a ghost. Scratching some dirt off of his hands, Adam called out to the clerk in a soft voice.

"Excuse me... ah, I have two questions... first of all, what day is it today? Like the exact date?"

The clerk swallowed as she turned back to Adam, setting the milkshake down on the tray in front of him.

"It's July 1st."

It's the perfect time of day
To throw all your cares away
Put the sprinkler on the lawn
And run through with my gym shorts on.

Adam's eyebrows lifted in surprise. It hadn't been all that long, then, that he had been knocked unconscious from the ship to here. Surprisingly, it had taken them a day or two to get him back to the United States, and here he was, standing on American soil, in one of the original American establishments - McDonalds. Of course, that wasn't that went through Adam's mind first, when the woman said that to him.

July 1st? Well fuck me, it's Canada Day.

In what was somewhat of a tradition for Adam; at least as long as he'd lived in the United States, on every Canada Day, he would light off fireworks on the night of Canada Day, and him and his family would travel back to Canada and visit with all of the friends that they left behind. The holiday wasn't much more than an excuse to go back, but it was because of that fact that Adam treasured it so much. It was, therefore, ironic that today, of all days, was one of his favourite days of the year. Nodding, he asked his second question.

"Cool, thanks. Uh, it looks like you guys might take awhile for my food, so, um, since you didn't have any other customers, do you mind if I sit down first? I want to go wash my hands."

The clerk nodded vacantly at him, then caught herself staring, and nodded more assertively. Nodding back, Adam sauntered off, slowly moving around the corner towards the men's washroom. As he'd picked at the dirt, Adam knew that what he really wanted to do was wash everything away. The grime, the dirt, the blood. All of SOTF; he wanted it all washed down the drain in some small McDonalds in upstate New York. Entering the washroom, he looked around, and stepped in front of the sink. As he did, he was looking into the mirror, and was absolutely taken aback at what he saw.

Being as Adam hadn't had any access to cleanliness during the past eleven (now thirteen) days, he hadn't seen himself in a mirror, and hadn't seen the physical toll that Survival of the Fittest had taken on him. As he stared at his own reflection in the mirror, his mouth stared at the mirror, gaping as though he'd seen the reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself.

The boy staring back at Adam was not the same slightly overweight, happy-go-lucky boy who'd left to go on the trip. At first glance, Adam saw that he had in a very short time lost an almost unbelievable amount of weight. His face was noticeably thinner, and he wondered how much weight he'd actually lost. The Leafs jersey was stained all over, and amongst the holes and blood stains that he'd seen before, the jersey was noticeably too big on him, much like his jeans. Thanks to the invention of the belt, Adam hadn't noticed too much that the jeans had become too large for him, but as he looked at himself in the mirror, it was very noticeable. Lifting his shirt up, he saw that his chest was blue and purple with bruising, and it looked like he'd burnt off quite a considerable amount of fat from his midsection. Letting his shirt fall down, he turned on the tap with the red handle, hoping to get the water so hot that it would scald him. Squirting some soap onto his hands, he rubbed it in furiously, so much so that the viscous liquid turned a gritty reddish brown. Waiting a few seconds for the water to heat up, Adam sighed. He still felt a dulled feeling of self-awareness, and at this point, he wasn't feeling any emotion at all. He couldn't say that it felt good to be home - because it didn't. It didn't feel bad, either. It didn't even feel.

I believe this is what they call 'post-traumatic stress disorder'. Army dudes get it a lot after they go through a big battle.

Plunging his hands into the scalding water, Adam's eyes opened wide as the familiar feeling of pain zipped through his hands and activated the pain sensations in his brain. Gritting his teeth, he kept his hands under the water, forcing the dirt and grime off of them, immersing them completely. Only able to keep this up for about ten seconds, Adam turned off the hot water with his elbows, his hands shaking from the scaldingly hot water. Shaking his hands off a bit, he grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and dried himself off. His hands now looked an almost ghostly white, a stark contrast from the rest of his exposed skin, which was tanned with grime. Painfully making a fist with both hands, he sighed, and walked out to the table that he'd left his pack at, slumping into the seat and sighing softly again. It wasn't long before one of the staff came and deposited the tray onto his table, softly murmuring "enjoy your meal" before quickly making his way away from him.

Take a drink right from the hose
And change into some drier clothes
Climb the stairs up to my room
Sleep away the afternoon.

Adam stared at the meal in front of him. He hadn't eaten anything but crackers and water for the last eleven days, and this was the first 'real' food that he would have. Adam's mouth had been salivating almost since he'd entered the McDonalds, and this was indeed the pinnacle of what he'd been waiting for. It was the feeling of normalcy, as slight as it was; of sitting in a McDonalds munching away on some McNuggets. Slowly, Adam opened the McNuggets and picked out the first one that he saw on the top of the carton. Holding the small piece of chicken in his hands, he smiled a sad little smile, and took a big bite out of the nugget.

It would prove to be the best damned meal that Adam Dodd had ever eaten.

July 1, 2005
The Dodd Household
Ithica, New York

As Adam walked up the driveway to his house, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of a reception that he was in for. He'd pondered it since he'd left the McDonalds. His parents would have undoubtedly taken this very hard, especially his mother. Adam had faith in the fact that his dad would probably be playing the role of the shoulder for her to cry on, all the while silently stewing and wanting to take some sort of harsh action. He was almost certain that his dad would be pissed off; not at him, but at the whole situation. His little brother, Oliver, who was 7, would likely be confused about the situation. Oliver, however, was basically a genius, and could understand concepts that some teenagers still had trouble grasping. However, he wasn't emotionally mature, and that would likely hinder his understanding of what had happened. And as for Luke... Adam grimaced. Luke was somewhere in Canada in an inpatient psychiatric facility after he'd lost control of himself and attacked Adam, nearly killing him. Adam hadn't spoken to his brother since that time - he'd stupidly held a grudge for the whole incident. He'd never let himself completely forgive Luke, even though the doctors had said that what had happened was an adverse reaction to the medication that he'd been mistakenly prescribed for depression. It was a stupid thing to be angry about, and his parents had said that even Luke had no memory of what had happened, or what he had said, but Adam did. Which, of course, was the problem.

It's like a dream - you try to remember but it's gone, then ya
Try to scream but it only comes out as a yawn, when ya
Try to see the world beyond your front door.
Take your time 'cuz the way I rhyme's gonna make you smile, when ya
Realize that with a guy my size it might take a while, just to
Try to figure out what all this is for.

So as Adam slowly walked up the concrete stairs leading to his front door, he wondered what kind of reception he would get from his family. Who knew if they'd watched the program, but Adam privately hoped that they hadn't. He'd definitely done things that he had not been proud of - such as killing fourteen people, and getting almost raped, and then actually raped. He'd lost his temper on more than one occasion, and had cursed enough to make most sailors wince. All in all, he couldn't say that he was proud of his conduct, but he knew that it was what had to be done for him to survive. All of the killing, all of the swearing - it had been necessary for him to be standing here, at his own door, at this very moment. Stomach full from the McDonalds that he'd eaten, Adam raised his fist to knock on the door, and then stopped.

I don't... I don't know what it's going to look like when I get in, so... maybe I just want to go and sit down on a couch. That green one in the living room. God, damnit, I love that couch. But... I don't want to make a big scene before I step into the door...

As per his decision, Adam then just pressed down on the latch to his door and pushed a little. The door, much to his surprise, opened with very little noise.

His house was almost exactly as he'd remembered it, right down to the same pile of CDs that he'd left on the floor next to the long table in his hallway. In fact, it was almost TOO similar to how he'd left it. The feeling was almost eerie. Stepping in, he closed the door behind him and removed his shoes. Leaving his pack on the bench beside his door, Adam slowly stepped into his own house, almost as though he were a stranger there.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

There was no response.

"Hey! Mom? Dad? I'm home! Oliver? Anyone?"

Still, nothing.

It was here that Adam got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe, somehow, Danya had gotten to his family, too. It was a bad feeling, and it was a thought that Adam didn't want to think about, but as he wandered into the kitchen, it was a thought that seemed to be gathering steam the more time that it remained in his head. The kitchen definitely did NOT look the same as it had been left. Usually, his kitchen was in various states of disrepair, usually looking like a family lived there and had only sporadic bursts of time to clean it. Instead, the kitchen was spotless, the only blemish being an empty pizza box sitting on the kitchen table, next to a pile of papers. Curious, Adam wandered over to the papers, and began to read them to see what they were. Most of them seemed to be bills and a few letters, but one smaller piece caught his eye. It was a list, in his father's writing, that seemed to be a to-do list. On the list were usual chores, like 'get beer, buy light bulbs, gas car', but one made him raise his eyebrow in surprise. 'Call Connie + Oliver + check on them' was an intriguing item on the list, and made Adam wonder just what had happened to his family. He saw checkmarks on all the items on the list, sans the first three, and Adam assumed that his father must have been out doing those at this very moment. Sighing, Adam sauntered out of the kitchen. Looking at his clothes, he knew what he'd have to do next. The shower was something that he'd sorely missed, and now that his hands were clean, it only made sense that he should follow suit for the rest of his body.

I think that I need this moreso than I may even realize.

Pinch Me
Pinch Me
Cos I'm still asleep.
Please God
Tell Me
That I'm still asleep

It took Adam about an hour in the shower to scrub off all of the dirt, blood, and grime and he took another five minutes to shave completely, leaving a gaunt-looking face underneath all of the bandages. Adam had seen his ear earlier at the McDonalds, and it seemed as though Danya and his doctors had simply stopped the bleeding, but not done anything other than the basics. A trip to the hospital would undoubtedly be in order. As he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling more refreshed than he had in two weeks, Adam stepped into his own room, clad in only a towel, all of his other clothing sitting in a ball on the floor of his bathroom. Carefully opening his drawers as though he were afraid of a bomb going off in them, he chose out a pair of boxer shorts, some pajama bottoms, and a big, comfortable orange sweatshirt that was at least three sizes too big for him. Putting on the new clothing made him feel good, and he ran his hand through his now-clean hair. Aside from the various wounds and bruises all over his body, Adam couldn't help but feel peaceful. He certainly didn't feel good, and he was definitely still in shock from the whole thing, but feeling was beginning to return to his body, and his mind.

Moving back to the bathroom, he looked at the heap of clothing on the floor. It was stained in blood, sweat, and grime and all were basically ruined. Looking at them closely for a moment, Adam then picked them up, an idea forming in his mind. He knew what he was about to do would probably be viewed to some as reckless and/or idiotic, judging by the amount of money he could likely sell these clothes for, but Adam just didn't care. He wanted to leave SOTF behind completely, and expel it from his life. It would be his own little way of taking his life back, even though he knew that such a feat might not be possible. Walking downstairs, Adam entered the family room, the area that had his television set and some other couches, along with his fireplace. Tossing the clothes on the couch, Adam knelt down (all the while, grimacing in pain) and opened the doors to the small fireplace. He reached over to the wood box beside the fireplace and grabbed out some kindling, placing it around the bottom of the fireplace. It hadn't been used in quite some time, due to it being summer, and Adam knew that a fire in the middle of the summer might be looked at as unusual, but he didn't care. He wasn't doing it to keep warm, that was for sure. Grabbing some paper from the box, he tore it up and layered it around the kindling. Satisfied, he reached over and grabbed his jeans, which had been through so much. Emptying the pockets of his wallet (he wouldn't want to have burned that); he folded the pants up and placed them into the fireplace. He did the same with his socks and Audioslave t-shirt, hesitating for a moment on his Leafs jersey. The jersey had cost him over two hundred dollars, both for the jersey and to get his own name put on it. But it was also a reminder of SOTF, of his dead friends, and of the killing.

"Ah, fuck it. I'll buy another one."

Sighing, Adam folded it up so that the number (77) and name (DODD) on the back were visible to him, almost as a way of watching SOTF burn away. Adam contemplated throwing his shoes in there as well, but decided against it, as the fumes would likely make it rather unpleasant within his house. Satisfied with his makeshift burial ground for his clothes, Adam reached up to a cup on top of the fireplace and removed a matchbook. Without any hesitation at all, he lit a match and set fire to one of the papers on the side of the set-up. The paper, to its credit, burned quickly, and it quickly caught fire with Adam's pants and spread to the rest of his clothes, which made strange sounds as they burned.

It's almost symbolic, as if I'm letting spirits out as I burn my clothes. Well, my friends... I hope you rest in peace.

As he watched his jersey burn away into ash, Adam nodded at the fireplace, satisfied at the job that it had done. He closed the doors on the fireplace and then stood up and walked into the next room.

On an evening such as this
It's hard to tell if I exist
If I Packed a car and leave this town
Who'll notice that I'm not around?
I could hide out under there
I just made you say 'underwear'
I could leave but I'll just stay
All my stuff's here anyway.
It's like a dream - you try to remember but it's gone, then ya
Try to scream but it only comes out as a yawn, when ya
Try to see the world beyond your front door.

Settling in on the aforementioned green couch, Adam pressed a small button on the side, and the end of the couch reclined, so that Adam could put his feet up. It felt amazing. Amazing to not have to worry about anyone shooting you, amazing to not have to be running for you life or shooting at anyone. For the first time in almost two weeks, Adam relaxed. He was completely alone now, and there was nobody to try and kill him, or taunt him.

That, of course, was when the door to Adam's house opened, and a man stepped inside, carrying a shopping bag and a case of beer. Adam sat up quickly, and looked at the man, who closed the door and turned around before he spotted him. Instantly, the man's eyes went wide and he dropped both the case of beer and the shopping bag, the sound of beer bottles breaking echoing through the hallway. As yellow liquid began to leak out from the case of beer, Adam weakly stood up and looked at the man, who was looking at him as though he'd seen a ghost.

"... Adam?"

Adam nodded, a few slight tears in his eyes as he looked at the one man who he considered to be his ultimate hero; the one man who he'd looked up to for his entire life, the one man who he'd kept in his thoughts and tried to emulate when he'd been fighting for his life.

"Dad... I'm home."

Adam struggled to keep it together, as breaking down in front of his father wasn't something he wanted to do - just yet, anyways. He'd vowed to keep it together for his family, and here was his father, looking at him with an incredulous look on his face as he slowly stepped forward.

"Adam... you're... home... "

Adam smiled slightly, an honest smile, and he knew that the internal battle not to break down sobbing was going to be one that would be more difficult than his fight against Cody Jenson.

For Paul Dodd, seeing his son sitting in the couch in his family room was absolutely the last thing that he anticipated upon seeing when he arrived home from his errands. For the final battle of SOTF, the feeds had cut out, and Danya had come on the screen and promised that when it was all said and done, we'd see the final battle. "In due time", he'd said. This, of course, had almost driven Paul mad. He'd been almost fanatically following Adam's progress, watching over him at every second that he could, almost trying to make up for some perceived failure as a parent to watch over their child. Of course, Paul hadn't failed at all, and it was only because of terrorists that Adam had been kidnapped. That hadn't made it any easier for him.

So to see Adam here, in the flesh, meant only one thing: Adam had won SOTF.

For almost two weeks, Paul had been the anchor of his family. He'd stood by and consoled his family when everyone had found out about SOTF, and had been acting like a pillar, not showing any emotion. Paul wasn't generally the type to show much emotion as it was, but he knew that the time that he'd be spending while Adam was fighting for his life would be some of the most important days of his life. Because of that, Paul had been as stoic as he could, simply watching, and hoping.

So as he saw Adam standing in front of him, Paul's shields fell. Without words, he dashed over to his son, and grabbed him up in a furious bear-hug. Paul wasn't a big man, probably about 5'9, but the hug he grabbed Adam in was as fierce as someone who stood at over six feet tall.

It was then that Paul Dodd did something that Adam had never seen him do, not once in his entire life. Paul looked at Adam, looked into his eyes, and broke down, sobbing guttural sobs that echoed throughout the house. Adam was, at first, unsure of what to do, but then just hugged his father closer. He didn't really know what to say, but then again...

Take your time 'cuz the way I rhyme's gonna make you smile, when ya
Realize that with a guy my size it might take a while, just to
Try to figure out what all this is for.
Try to figure out what all this is for.
Try to see the world beyond your front door.
Try to figure out what all this is for.

He didn't need to say anything. He was home, and that was all that mattered.

July 4, 2005
The Shirohara Residence
Ithica, New York

In a small, quaint neighbourhood that felt unknown and foreign to Adam, a row of aged and run-down houses, small in size, stood together near the edge of an arterial freeway that flooded what might have been a relatively peaceful atmosphere with the needless clamour of traffic. Within the living room of one of these quaint homes, Adam Dodd waited patiently, his right arm down at his side, almost as though he were trying to blend in with the wallpaper. If not for the white bandage on his ear and the cast on his left arm, he probably would have managed it. From where he was, the rest of the living room, tiny and modestly kept, was in full view.

Like the rest of the house, the room was rather plain and appeared to be decades old, its whitewash walls stained and faded in colour to a dusty colour. The carpet was also faded, and worn to barely more than a mere fray in several places. However, it appeared as though the particular family living in this house have had struggled in order to make the best of their quaint living space. For one, the room, though modest was tidy and well-kept, and had a rather accommodating feel to it. From where Adam waited, he could see the various frames and photos of the same people adorning the shelves, walls, and cabinets...

...A young couple waving excitedly to the anonymous photographer on the surf of a beach.

...A small girl proudly holding a plastic watering can at a park fountain.

...A smiling woman holding a sleeping infant.

...A small girl playing with a tiny boat at the edge of a fish pond, with an even smaller girl at her side.

...A couple, an adolescent girl, and a small girl standing together and smiling together in front of a view overlooking the ocean.

All of these pictures, everyone's so happy. There's no war, no fighting, and no thought of worry on any of their faces. It reminds me so much of my family, way back in the day...

Looking around towards the other side of the room, his eyes came across a corner where an open-fronted display cabinet stood, looking out of place in the living room as though it had only recently been placed there...

Set upon the selves of the cabinet were a small number of items that Adam could see, all placed purposefully in an uncluttered and tidy arrangement. For one was an armful of lilies gathered in a glass vase, now wilted yellow and on the verge of shedding their darkening petals. Other than that, there was little else than a small candle that was half-spent...as well as a particularly large frame that contained what appeared to be a school photo of a young girl with dark eyes and dark hair, wearing a tidy uniform.

A once-living, now-dead Madelaine Shirohara seemed to look back at Adam and smile gently as his eyes met that of the photo.

Adam continued to wait in uneasy silence, fully aware of the ever present feeling of tension within his surroundings. What might have been a peaceful and warm atmosphere inside this modest, yet snug home was harrowed by a dark and forlorn cloud, and the vaguely distinct feeling of emptiness and loss. From where he waited, Adam could hear the sounds of movements, furtive and nervous, coming from one of the other rooms. Along with muffled footsteps were the barely discernable voices of a man and a woman, murmuring together in secret.

The broken phrases and questions that sounded through the thin wall that separated the kitchen and the living room were full of anxiety, and formed a conversation that was barely coherent.

"...what should we do?"

"...should we tell him to leave?"

"...what if he won't leave? Should I call the police?"

"...he says he wants to talk. He says he's a friend of..."

"...what if he does something...?"

Without warning, the small head of a small, auburn-haired girl poked into the living from behind the wall. Large, hazel eyes stared up towards where Adam was sitting. It was difficult to tell whether she were scrutinizing him or merely observing him curiously. Shedding her initial timidity, the small girl wandered innocuously into the living room, making her way to the cabinet where the framed photo of the late Madelaine Shirohara stood. The small girl didn't look older than three or four, and there was a minimal amount of resemblance between herself and the much older girl in the photo. Though she pretended to mind her own business, it was clear that she couldn't help but steal a curious glance or two at Adam every so often.

My god... she has Madelaine's eyes... they're the exact same eyes... wow. She reminds me so much of her, it's unbelievable... not even in the way that she looks, but just... in her spirit...

It was not long until a young, somewhat nervous-looking woman made her way into the room with a tray laden with mugs and a small teapot. Her tired-looking face, though young and good-natured, was darkened with lines of anxiety and a sense of joylessness. She also appeared to be quite nervous, quite fragile, as though the slightest mishap might shatter her.

The very sight of Adam seemed to do little more than dismay her further, and even the sight of her own young daughter within a two metre vicinity of him did not seem to help her unease in the slightest.

She quickly opened her mouth. "Miram, your juice is in the kitchen. Go get it from Otou-chan, okay?" Her words, though calm in a sense, held a trace of unsteady resolve. The small girl looked towards her mother, before looking towards Adam again with a taciturn expression on her face. Only a few seconds later did she run out of the room to obey.

Only with her daughter out of the room and out of hearing range did Shoko Shirohara seem to calm down, ever so slightly. With an unsteady grasp, she set the tray down on the coffee table between Adam and herself, settling herself on a couch opposite to where Adam sat.

"I made us tea," she informed him absently. It was apparent that she was struggling to sound gracious.

Even the small metal tea kettle on the tray looked as cold as stone. Two of the three mugs laden on the tray each had names on it, "Jase" and "Shoko", respectively.

A man of his mid-thirties entered the room, just as Shoko Shirohara was unsteadily pouring tea into the nameless mug in front of Adam. Unlike his wife, Jase Shirohara didn't look as though he were about to drop into a faint any second now. Nevertheless, his anxiety was clear in spite of his effort to maintain an even and reticent expression. His dark eyes were hardened and harrowed with something along the lines of either distress, or perhaps even sadness.

He settled down next to his wife as Shoko poured a mug for him, and then for herself. In a slight jolt of nervousness, she held the kettle tipped over for too long, and a line of tea ran down over the edge of her overfilled mug to spill slightly at its base. Looking greatly embarrassed, and even more dismayed, Shoko whispered an unheard apology and hurriedly went ahead to wipe the mug clean...

...until she saw that there were no napkins to clean the tray with. So resignedly, she left the mug as it was without drinking from it.

Jase looked briefly at her silently, as the vaguest expression of pity on his face. However, it vanished the moment he glanced to look at Adam. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it for a moment, wallowing in indecision. In the end, he decided that the only thing was to do was to get straight to the point as quickly as was possible. This meant that he would have to ask something Adam, and in turn connect himself and the rest of his family with this unknown stranger whom he wanted nothing to do with, and nothing more than to put more than a thousand miles of distance away from his family.

It was his sense of reason and tolerance that allowed him to say otherwise.

"Why have you come here?"

Adam grimaced a bit at the question and felt really uncomfortable. Here he was, intruding in the house of someone who he considered a close friend. It had been probably almost a week since Madelaine had actually died, and her family was likely deep in mourning. Adam couldn't keep track of the days. On the island, time had lost quite a bit of meaning. He could blatantly see that his presence unnerved her mother and her father seemed, at times, to be staring a hole right through his forehead. That seemed to be happening quite a bit more as of late - the staring. People who passed him on the street seemed to gaze and him and weren't able to look away. It felt intrusive, but then again, intrusive was what he was doing here, right now. Sitting in the living room of a family that he didn't even know, bringing up memories of their dead daughter.

Smooth, Adam. No matter which way you slice it, it's an awkward thing to do, especially since only one person came out of the event that their daughter died - you.

Staring at the floor for a moment, he thought very hard at what he was going to say, and finally looked up and stared Madelaine's father in the eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you ... a little bit about your daughter. When we... uh, when the, um... well, I think that there are some things that you probably need to know, and some things that I need to say."

All that came as a response to Adam's words was a long stretch of hesitant, uneasy silence. Both mother and father looked at Adam in slight surprise as he spoke those words, though they had expected him to say something along those lines before their discussion began. They looked at one another, either unsure of how to take Adam's offer, if they were even to take it at all.

As they fell silent, the buzz of a bicycle chain could be heard, approaching then disappearing, along with the laughter of children. Somewhere from the kitchen, a muffled voice, electronically distorted as though coming from a decade old television set, spoke primly, while being interrupted at several intervals by interference. While most geese mate for life....minority who will often divorce and find another mate.... contrary to other nesting birds such as duck.... both parents protect the nest and their young ....results in a higher survival rate for the goslings in order to offset the small number of offspring...

Jase found this as an opportunity to break the silence, along with some of the tension. "Miriam, could you please turn down your nature program a bit?"

"Okay," came the simple reply, followed by a dampening of the electronic voice.

"Thank you."

Settling back down, Jase lifted a hand to his face, pushing narrow and rimless glasses half an inch further up the bridge of his nose, as though to mask his unease slightly.

"I see."

His voice was quiet and simple, though with an undertone of some vague and ambiguous feeling. Beside him, Shoko played with her pale hands in her lap nervously, as though deliberating to herself, fighting some impulse to say something out loud. When she didn't say anything, the father continued.

"I suppose then that means you knew her. You knew our daughter in some way, then. What relation you might have to her, I would not know." He took in a deep breath, as though to ease the tension he felt.

"If you have anything at all to say, then say it now. We're listening."

But it seemed impossible to miss the look of apprehension and distrust on the faces of both mother and father, as though they somehow feared the very explanation that Adam offered to give them.

Adam nodded his head a bit, and then began what he knew was going to be a very difficult thing to say.

"You're right, I did know Madelaine. It's weird, though - how we met. My, um... my girlfriend, Amanda... they were friends, of a sort, I guess. How they met, I'm not really sure, but I met Madelaine when Amanda and I got together on the island. There were five... six, I guess, if you count Marcus, who were a really tight-knit group. I hardly knew her from school at all, but on the island... well... we were close, as odd as it sounds."

Adam scratched the side of his face, and continued.

"But I'm not here to tell you about how I knew your daughter. What I am here to tell you is what kind of a person she was. In my experience, you see the true side of people when they're at their worst, under really intense pressure. As I'm sure you can both imagine... Survival of the Fittest really fell into that category. So those of us that were with Madelaine, we saw her for what she truly was."

Adam paused, and nodded slightly, almost as if he were verifying what he was saying.

"Your daughter was in every sense of the word, a hero."

Following Adam's words came another stretch of silence. Both mother and father had long since fallen silent. At Adam's words, their reactions differed. Jase's hand moved up yet again to adjust his narrow glasses, but the way he held it there for a moment longer than usual made it look as though he wanted to cover his face for some reason. Beside him, Shoko's head bowed to gaze her hands in her lap, though not before a flash of tears could be seen in her dark eyes. Neither spoke a word for the moment that followed.

Even from the kitchen, not a single noise or voice could be heard.

Jase was the first to compose himself. As always, he was the one to speak while Shoko remained silent, as though unwilling or too uncertain to speak.

"A hero," he repeated quietly. He looked into Adam's eyes, as though trying to discern whether Adam was truly sincere or was merely mocking them. But as always the more calculating, suspicious side of him resigned to being overshadowed by empathy and tolerance. "Madelaine...she stayed strong the whole time, didn't she? She'd always been like that, always knew what was best for herself, and for others. No, she never cared what happened to her, it was always about others...us, and Miriam..."

He looked towards Adam calmly. "It's kind of you to call her such...but that is the person we've known Madelaine to be ever since she was born. Even if she is a hero...first and foremost, she is our daughter."

The phrase was not one meant to show contempt, or to invite an quarrel. It was simply a statement, one that sounded as though Jase had the need to make clear. And only by making such a statement did Jase appear to relax, and look slightly more accepting to Adam's presence, in spite of the fact that he was the only one recovered in one piece from the very thing that stole their daughter and destroyed her.

"She had friends."

Shoko spoke now, her voice barely a murmur, more to herself than anyone. "She had friends with her. She must have felt safe with you people, or else she wouldn't have trusted you so much... Who knows, maybe she was even happy."

She coughed slightly, choking in her tears while her husband looked on in concern, though he knew not what to say while she continued.

"You say you were close to her...that you were her friends, and were with her while she was still alive."

It was then that she lifted her head to stare at Adam, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Then why did she die? She should have been safe with you. You said you were close to her, but still....still she ended up...she was..."

She cut herself off, a pale hand lifting to her mouth. Beside her, Jase had taken to staring out the window, where a number of crows conglomerated on a lawn near the street, pecking at the dirt.

Tears were now running down Shoko's face as her voice rose slightly. "We moved here to escape it! We risked everything, our belongings, our freedom, and our lives to come here, because we wanted our children to be safe from the Act... We didn't want to see our children killing or ended up being killed by other children just because of some totalitarian government law. It wasn't supposed to happen! We gave up so many things just for our daughters...but it happened to her anyways. The program took her when we thought we could escape it..."

"Dear..." Jase started, fearing for his wife, but Shoko continued relentlessly.

"But still....she should have survived. If she had truly been close to friends, she might have lived! Weren't you with her? Wasn't anybody there to stop it from happening? Weren't you with her when she was... Or was it you?"

Shoko's voice fell sharply into a whisper as she stared at Adam, her red eyes searching desperately for an answer. "Were you the one who killed her and took her from us...? Is that how you won? Is that why you came here? To apologize for killing her?"

As Adam listened to Shoko's anguished words, his eyes moistened and a tear ran down his face. Quickly, almost so much that neither of them would notice, he wiped it away and shook his head very slowly. He looked at the floor, and mouthed the word no. Taking a second to compose himself, he shook his head again, his voice almost a whisper but regaining its strength a second later.

"N-no. I didn't kill her. When Hawley died, I... well, Madelaine was the one who managed to keep our spirits up. Of our little... motley crew, I guess you could say that I was the leader. I made a promise to them all - to Madelaine, to Amanda, to David... I promised all of them that I would do my best to keep them all safe, and to try and figure out some way of escaping from it all. And y'know what? I tried. I really, truly did. It really all boiled down to one thing. It was one moment, I guess. We stopped... we stopped to rest at the River, and I took a moment to myself. I took one moment to think and just be by myself."

Adam shook his head again, obviously very affected by this whole thing.

"After that moment was over, I then realized that I'd messed up. I slipped, and now, after taking the moment to be by myself, I had no one. Where was I when she... when Madelaine died? Where was I? I was sitting on a rock, not one hundred meters away, and I had no idea what was going on. I kicked myself from the moment that I found out. I did more than kick myself. I hated myself. So... if you accuse me of being the one who killed her... I didn't perpetrate it, but... I let her down, so I'm no better than the scumbag who did."

Adam paused for a moment, and let his thoughts settle into place.

"I came here to let you know how important your daughter was to a lot of people. All of us, from Hawley to Amanda, we all cared for Madelaine a great deal. We knew her only a few days, but we knew how wonderful a person that she was. Her death... would have hit us all really hard... "

He paused.

"... if anyone else had been alive but me."

Adam grimaced, and cleared his throat.

"I felt so guilty after that. I basically wandered the island with no purpose for a day and a half with no friends, no one to talk to, no one to look out for. It's the worst feeling in the world to know that you've let people down, especially good people like Madelaine. It's what they call 'survivor's guilt'. You could say that I wished it had been me instead of her. In fact, I'd give my own life up in one single second if it could bring them all back to life. I'd do it in a heartbeat. It may seem like a stupid, or even inconsiderate thing to say, coming from me, but I promise you, that's the truth."

Adam glanced out the window at the birds, and sighed a little.

"I'm not going to lie to you both. I did things on the island that I wasn't proud of. I'm not going to pretend that I lay back and let everyone else die around me. I fought, tooth and nail for my own life. I fought for my friends, and I promised them that I wouldn't let anything happen to them. It... it was a promise that I couldn't keep. And I am so goddamn sorry that I couldn't bring your daughter back to you alive and even moreso than I couldn't stop her final moments from being what they were."

Both mother and father could do nothing else but listen to Adam yet again as he spoke, explaining everything. All they could do was stare in silence as everything was unfolded before them, the very circumstances and the very events of the tragedy from Adam's point of view. It was as though they, themselves were reliving all that had happened not to them, but to their daughter, and the people she had been with at the time.

Neither Jase nor Shoko had never watched a second of SOTF in their life. Only through the very premise and the very concept could they possibly have any idea of the atrocity it truly was...yet somehow it felt as though simply the hearing the tale of the one who survived SOTF being told out loud before them had affected them more than any clip, recording or footage ever could.

Jase was the last to break. Though he was probably the most level-headed and most rational member of the household (aside from Madelaine, perhaps...but that was in another lifetime), it happened anyway. Once again, he lifted his fingers to the rim of his glasses, this time holding it there, head bowed and face out of clear sight.

Shoko, on the other hand, had bourne more than enough strain, and was well beyond the limits of her own self-control.

"...What makes you think that you have the right to say any of that?" she asked Adam, her voice once again in a trembling whisper. "I don't know who you are, or where you came from, or how you survived it all, nor do you know us, or even Madelaine all that well. Yet given that, you went through all the trouble to find us anyways, even though you and I are complete strangers. And now you're here if only to tell us that you feel guilty, and that you would have given your life for Madelaine if given the chance. You, a complete stranger and one who had only met Madelaine for little more than a few days, would have the contempt and the gall to somehow believe that you have the right to say any of that?"

Before Jase or even Shoko knew it, the woman, no older than maybe thirty three, had risen to her feet, her voice rising into a shrill, anguished tone.

"Did you think it would ease our loss? Did you think it would comfort our pain, even? Or did you simply wanted to let us know just how much you cared for her safety and well being, even though you let her down? Did you?"

By now, Shoko was in a state beyond any sort of self control, all of the pain and anguish gathered up inside her surfacing at last to make how she truly thought and felt about the entire tragedy apparent.

"Our daughter didn't have to suffer the way she did. She deserved none of it! She has done nothing to merit such...such horror... Our daughter, she didn't have to go through any of that. Yet nonetheless, as fate would have it, there was someone out there the world who for some reason beyond any comprehension...somehow saw her fit for shame and torment. He broke her and then he killed her, stole her life and all the dignity and innocence that she ever had! It wasn't supposed to happen, yet someone...somehow...."

It was then that Jase suddenly winced, as though he had not at all expected any of this to come from Shoko. Grimacing, as though he had caught sight of something that he wished he never saw, he turned away, covering his mouth slightly as Shoko continued.

"Our daughter...she deserved better... more than the life we left behind, and more than the way she died. Even if she wouldn't have survived either way, she didn't have to suffer. She might have died peacefully, or quickly, or at least for the sake of her friends. I know, because she is my daughter, and I know her better than you ever could have. And that is why that I know...

"...that if she truly felt that she was with true friends during that time, and if you were one of the friends she trusted like you say you were, then she would have gladly given up her life for them. Even yours."

The mother's pained words seem to resonate through the empty air, in spite of the silence that followed. Following her outburst only came stunned silence, from Jase, who still covered his face as though ashamed of revealing his emotions, and from Shoko herself, who only now seemed to realize what she had just said and suddenly become more aware of herself.

Immediately, she cringed, as though in shame or embarrassment, and lowered her head, whispering shakily.

"I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."

In that moment of sudden self-awareness and reflection, tears came again to Shoko's large eyes, and this time, they overflowed. Soon, her cheeks were dripping with tears as they fell to the fraying carpet between choked sobs. Pitifully, Shoko was forced to cover her soaked face with a hand, wrapping her other arm around her form as though wanting to comfort herself.

"Excuse me...I have to..."

In mid-sentence, she had already fled, disappearing from view as she turned a corner.

The sound of an aged door closing shut could be heard, followed by the muffled sound of a running tap.

July 4, 2005
The Shirohara Residence
Ithica, New York

Adam had to admit that he was completely taken aback by the ferocity of Shoko's intense anger. He understood completely as to why she was as angry as she was. It only made sense. Madelaine had been her daughter, a person that she had likely tried to bear in her own image, and she had obviously loved her quite a bit. Adam knew this, but her words stung all the same. It brought up a sense of guilt in Adam that he hadn't felt as intensely since directly after Madelaine and Amanda had died. She was right. Who was he to come in and tell them things about their daughter - things that they likely already knew, and things that they probably didn't want to hear. Was it for his own sick satisfaction? Or was he really doing it for Madelaine... ? The answer was unclear, but he just sat there and took it. He found some way in his mind to justify it, some way to convince himself that he deserved her anger, even though, deep down inside, he wasn't all that certain of anything anymore.

Left alone to tend to the visitor sitting before him, Jase sighed heavily, removing his hands from his face and quickly working to regain his composure, though his eyes too were moistening rapidly. Not knowing what exactly to say concerning the matter, he turned his attention to the window, decorated with plain, worn curtains that hung limply at either side of the cracked frame.

Outside, the crows had long since scattered.

It wasn't long until he slowly turned to gaze back towards Adam, looking at him thoughtfully before offering an apologetic smile.

"I didn't....I never realized she knew that much about how Madelaine....about what happened to her," he remarked offhandedly. "We never watched SOTF, because of..."

His head gestured meaningfully towards the kitchen.

"So instead, we asked people. We asked whether or not she was still alive. No details, none at all. We thought that all that mattered was whether or not she was dead...but then..."

Jase drew in a deep breath, leaning over to fold his hands between his open knees.

"Then I heard...that she had died. And only then did I start to wonder... who would do such a thing? Madelaine had never done anyone harm, or wished anyone ill will...so who would have the nerve to take the life of someone who was so harmless, so innocent, and so kind to everyone? Who would be so willing to forsake their honour to commit such a crime, to murder someone like Madelaine? It was then that just knowing she was simply dead wasn't enough for me to know anymore, in spite of the state of shock I was already in."

His face hardened as he uttered his next words, gripping his hands together tightly.

"And because of that, I found out what happened to her...that before her death, our daughter...had been brutalized. All it did was hit me harder, and make me continue to wonder more and more.... Who could possibly do such a thing?"

It was then that Jase looked at Adam directly in the eye, the first time he had ever done so, ever, since he had stepped foot into the household and asked to talk. Jase's grey eyes squarely met Adam's brown ones, as the young man, barely in his mid thirties, for the first time made a genuine and sincere attempt to see eye to eye with the one who had survived the very ordeal that had killed his daughter.

"Tell me...Adam, was it? Were you there when she was killed? Or perhaps after she was killed? Maybe...just maybe. Perhaps you would know...perhaps you are the only one who knows just who would have the nerve to do such a thing to her. And perhaps you would even know...if there could possibly be any justice done for our daughter."

By this time, Adam's hand was pressed against his chin, giving him the impression that he was deep in thought. His eyes, however, expressed that he was listening loud and clear to the words that Jase was saying, and each and every question was taking a little bit out of him. It was indeed a strenuous activity for Adam to be sitting in this room, speaking with the parents of someone who had died while he had lived. He'd already been suckerpunched by the policeman father of Jacob Starr while in a police station, and he knew that some parents likely wanted to do the same, if not worse.

But while some were angry, Jase Shirohara seemed to have a fire in his eyes, an almost quiet fury, that as he looked Adam in the eyes for the first time, seemed to demand answers. So, forlorn and speaking quietly, Adam gave them to him.

"His name was Cody Jenson. He was an OHL hockey player, who played defense. He was a high-ranked prospect and was a person that a lot of people said would go places. Far as I could tell, he had a very serious handicap that would have prevented him going anywhere. That being that he very deeply disturbed. I... I wasn't there when Madelaine died. It's something that I have been kicking myself for since the day that it happened. I stumbled upon the scene... maybe about ten minutes after it was all over and done with. It... it happened so fast. Even... even Crosby, who got there sooner than I did couldn't do anything. I thought exactly what you probably did when you heard - why her? Of all the people, why did that have to happen to the nicest, kindest, gentlest person on the entire island? Of all people, Madelaine was the best. She had such a good heart. Even when... when Nanami... when that happened, she still tried to make things right, even when it was too late... she was the best person on that island, bar none, sir. Bar none."

Adam hesitated, and put his head down for a moment to compose himself. There was a moment of silence between the two, until Adam put his head up again. This time, instead of the forlorn expression, there was a darker one, an expression of hatred and despair all rolled into one. Voice even, he continued.

"And justice?"

Adam hesitated for a moment.

"Sir... you never watched a bit of Survival of the Fittest, and for that, you are in a very lucky minority of people. I will tell you what befell Madelaine's killer, but ... I need to know that you want to hear it."

As Jase took in Adam's words, and what he was describing before him of the one who had taken the life of his eldest daughter, he fell into silence yet again. But unlike before, when his state of silence had been due to awkwardness and indecision, there was an expression on his face that was unlike any that had been seen since Adam entered the household. Though unreadable still, his expression seemed to reflect a hidden, controlled feeling of cold indignation as he took in Adam's description of his daughter's murderer.

As he listened, Jase automatically moved his hands to where the tea mugs stood, still untouched and full, curling his hands around the base to find warmth...

...only to find that there was none. The tea, which had been only lukewarm to begin with, had fallen to a stone cold state.

Jase withdrew his hands, just as Adam made his offer to tell him what exactly happened of the very person who saw fit to shame and murder his daughter before the entire world. Though he seemed inclined to listening to what Adam had to tell of the matter, Jase looked as though he were deliberating carefully, placing the curve of his finger to his lip as he frowned in deep thought.

He turned to glance briefly towards the other end of the room.

The tap in the bathroom continued to hiss with running water.

From the kitchen, an electronically distorted voice sang in a mournful lilt, while the voice of a small child attempted to sing along with it,

"With every new day
Your promises fade away
It's a fine day to see
Though the last day for me
It's a beautiful day"

Jase deliberated further, but this time he did not ask his youngest daughter to turn down the volume. Rather, he turned back to Adam, once again regarding him with the most serious and most even of gazes.

"Then I'll tell you this. I want to hear it. I'd rather hear the story from someone who had been there than from anyone else, or from some television program. I want to hear it from you, the truth, your story, everything. I want to know. So please, tell me."

Adam nodded grimly, and looked Jase right in the eyes, and did not move his gaze until he was completely finished speaking.

"I stalked him around the island for four days straight.

After Amanda and Madelaine died, I had nothing left. I freaked out, and went off on my own. I was... well, I was in a bad place because all of my friends had died. I had nobody left. My whole group, plus my best friend, who I never got to meet up with had all died, and all of their deaths felt meaningless. I guess, in the end, it boiled down to me wanting to give at least someone the proper respects that they would never get in that sick competition.

So I stalked him around the island for four days straight. It was difficult - I had no idea what he looked like, or even what he was wearing. All I knew is that I was looking for someone named Cody Jenson, and when I found him, I was going to inflict upon him the kind of hell that he inflicted upon my friend. I looked high and low, everywhere on the island, and frankly, in a sad sort of way, it's what kept me alive. I chose not to stay with any group, even those that had people I knew and trusted. I chose to stay on my own, because I knew that I couldn't have anyone else with me. He had ruined an innocent life, and now I had taken on the responsibility to ruin his."

Adam stopped for a moment, collecting himself, ceasing the budding rage from getting any further. Just the thought of the boy made him queasy.

"I actually found him once, and it was under the strangest of circumstances. I'd been shot by a tranquilizer dart and was basically passing out, and he, for whatever reason, bandaged me up and stayed with me until I woke up. He then told me that he was someone named 'Andrew Stevens' and this other crap that wasn't true. He seemed really off, and while I had alarms going off in my head, I did nothing and he left. He seemed to know who I was, which scared me a little, but I was convinced that I needed to find him. I had to make him pay for what he did to Madelaine."

Adam then put his fist to his mouth, looking down with a look of absolute shame on his face. Shaking his head a little, he looked back up at Jase.

"And then something happened which intensified things even more. On the second-last day of it all, one of Danya... he was the one who organized the entire thing, the man whose name I cursed right up until I met him and then some... one of his terrorists that he'd put on the island for some stupid reason... attacked me, and in saving a friend's life, I got... well, I... "

Adam's eyes filled with tears, and he brushed them away.

"... she raped me, and shot me in the head. I don't know how, nor why, but she completely fucked up, and blew my ear off, but didn't kill me. When I recovered from the whole thing, I... I guess something in me had snapped, because all that I could see was... Madelaine... and knowing what she'd gone through... the shame of the whole thing... it infuriated me."
Shaking his head a little, almost as if to shake the memories out, he looked back up at Jase with cold eyes once more.

"Sooner than I could realize, it was the final day, and it turned out that there were four people left alive, and Cody Jenson happened to be one of them. I found him when he was attacking Sidney Crosby, the famous hockey player - who he had some grudge against for God knows what reason. It was then that all the anger I had within me poured out and probably got the better of me. I came very close to dying, if it hadn't been for Crosby. He took a bullet for me, and let me get away. Cody and I fought some more, and then it ended quickly."

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

"I stabbed him through the chest with a sword, which stuck right into a tree, and then I carved the word 'rapist' into his chest with a hunting knife. I assume that when he died, he was in an excrutiating amount of pain, and he felt the humiliation that I know he caused Madelaine. Mr. Shirohara, I made it my goal on the island to find Cody Jenson and make him pay for what he'd done. I found him, and I made him suffer like no human being should suffer. Especially not your daughter. I took his life in cold blood, which is something that I hadn't done. I'll be honest, I killed twelve people last week. Most of them, I killed to save someone else's life. Madelaine was one of those people. In doing so, I left a big part of my humanity on that island. But when I killed Cody Jenson, in cold blood... what scares me the most, is that I didn't feel half as bad about it as I hoped I would. But... I think that it's because I felt that he deserved it. For what he did to Madelaine. Nothing else. So is that justice? I don't know if she can ever get justice for all that happened. The best someone could do is bring down Mr. Danya. I tried and failed miserably... well... maybe not miserably, but I still failed. But justice for Madelaine? The way that I see it, sir? There were two killers at work there. One, I made pay for what he'd done. The other... I don't know if anyone will be able to do that."

Adam stopped, and finally looked at the ground. For what seemed like a long three minutes of silence, Adam looked up again, his eyes damp from the emotion of what he'd been through.

"I understand if you don't think much of me, for all of that. To be honest, I don't think much of myself right now. But I want you to know that Madelaine meant as much to me as pretty much anyone on that island. She was an incredible person and she had everything stolen away from her that she deserved to have with her - her life and her dignity. I could not, and would not let that stand. So I did something about it in the only way that I could at the time. I know it's probably not what you would have done, but I hope that you can take at least some small solace in knowing that the son of a bitch suffered ten times more than your daughter did when he died."

In receptive silence, Jase waited and listened as Adam, as asked, made his explanation. Along with it, as Jase soon found out, came his confession. During the moments in which Adam told Jase his story, the entire truth, Jase could only stare at Adam, looking almost shocked and horrified, yet compelled still to listen to the entire tale at the same time. Gradually, the father's expression changed into one of mixed emotions, and by the time Adam finished, he looked as though he were in tumultuous conflict within himself.

The side of Jase that was rational, but more calculating than anything when under strain, could do nothing else but see Adam as a killer. That much was apparent, the way he simply stared within the moment that followed at Adam with the look of utmost fear and even revulsion upon his face. But aside from that, there was another part of Jase that somehow felt compelled to call compassion and sympathy to his aid. So, in spite of all Adam said he had done, in spite of the fact that he was a murderer of twelve and had killed one of those twelve in cold and hateful blood, it was that aspect of Jase that could do nothing else but simply acknowledge Adam as simply a fellow human being. Like Jase, and any other typical human being, he lived on the same earth and breathed the same air, and was driven by emotions ever inevitable, be it anger, hatred, fear, or pain. Though it seemed unthinkable to even attempt to condone all that Adam had done...Jase knew that the one who destroyed his daughter's murderer was still only human.

And it was the first time that Jase could ever bring himself to acknowledge such simple fact since he appeared at their doorstep one quiet, cloudy day, claiming that he knew their daughter during the last moments of her life.

Having taken in Adam's entire tale, his entire truth, Jase looked suddenly weakened, almost weary, as though the truth had been forceful enough to drain the little energy and conviction that was left of him. For a moment, he said nothing, instead listening to worn down voice of the television speaker as it sounded from the kitchen. All that could be heard was a baroque piece on strings, its soothing melody frayed and crackling due to the constant influx of interference and a bad signal.

Jase finally spoke, his voice sinking low into a murmur.

"You killed him," he said, his voice plain and simple. "You took it in your own hands to find justice...to find it for our daughter. And you killed him, coldly and painfully."

From the expression on his face, it looked as though Jase found it the hardest thing to believe the simplest truth even as he spoke it for himself.

"I don't know...how you could do such a thing...to human being, someone about the same age as you. Much less how you could possibly make sure that he died painfully in the end, by your own hands...and much less how you could take the lives of several more, and find the courage to face yourself when all is said and done, and you are announced the survivor. Just how? How do you learn to live with that? I just don't know. I don't understand."

For the several seconds that followed, Jase refused to even look at Adam, either unwilling or unable to, for whatever reason. Just looking at the one who had just confessed that he had killed, and had killed in the coldest of blood, seemed like the hardest thing to do at the moment.

The hardened expression that had formed on Jase's face suddenly softened, if only slightly.

"Our daughter...Madelaine must have been that important to you if you were so driven enough as to put such a responsibility into your own hands. Yet you say you only knew her for little more than a few days, that you only met her on the island. Still, you would risk your life and give up humanity for her? For someone who was a complete stranger only a day or so before?"

The young father's head bowed, his youthful features suddenly returning to view, for a moment overshadowing his adult appearance, as though he was reverting to the former energy and spirit of his younger years, if only for a moment. After all, while he had been a father for essentially half of his life, he had only been an adult for a smaller, much smaller amount of time. It was the same with Shoko. From the way the world saw it, they had still been very young when they suddenly became parents. And because of that, they were not yet old enough to forget the strength and aspiration that was so common among the youth and the young.

It was then that Jase said, his face suddenly alighting in what appeared to be cold indignation, almost anger. "I...I'm sure, that if I were in your place, I would have wanted to do the same. There's just no way I could have let such a crime be left ignored and unpunished. He took away my daughter. He made her suffer and killed her. If I knew that person was still alive, and had I been in your place, I'm sure that I would have wanted to do the same to him, to make sure he regretted what he had done... Why, if he had been the one to survive, instead of you, I don't know what I would have done....I wouldn't have been able to stand by and let him live his life peacefully. I would have wanted justice for the daughter he murdered, my daughter."

It was a heartfelt declaration of his own conviction, though naive in a sense, it reflected the youthful side of the father that still knew the strength of hope and the power in one's beliefs for what is right and what is the most important thing. It was a side he had not quite forgotten or outgrown, but never fully relived until now.

But it was not long until the father's expression melted back into one of wearyness, and he returned to the role of the adult he was now, too jaded for hope, too weary for dreaming.

"But... even though I would have wanted to do it...I don't think I could have brought myself to do the very thing you had done. Even if I had the chance...even if fate somehow gave me the opportunity to make things right again...I could never do it. I just can't. No matter how much I wanted to...to do such a thing, is just something I could never do..."

He shook his head, realizing all that he had said and becoming more aware of himself, looking somewhat awkward now that he had revealed that part of himself. For a moment, he seemed lost for words, not knowing what else to say on the matter...

July 4, 2005
The Shirohara Residence
Ithica, New York

He did however, take a moment to look towards Adam for a moment, noting quietly the more obvious signs of the injuries that the young man had collected, no doubt from his ordeal. As much as he tried to refrain from doing so, Jase's grey eyes fell upon the marks on Adam's hands, the outlines that hinted of hidden bandages on his shoulder arm, and finally the bandage covering the left side of his head, where his ear would have been.

"So in that respect...." Jase murmured, in an almost resigned voice. "I suppose I should at least acknowledge the fact that you managed to do something that I could never have done for the life of me...no matter how dear Madelaine was to me, and how I had known her for a longer time than you. You're the one who took it in your own hands in the end, and saw it through. And I suppose...from what you've told me, in a way, you had a right to that responsibility. Though you and Madelaine were essentially strangers before such an ordeal...somehow, you earned the responsibility to make things right again."

He paused for a moment, as though to recollect his thoughts, and his resolve for what he was about to say.

"However... what did it achieve in the end? None of it changed anything, and still the real criminal behind all of this is still at large. Though the one who killed her has been brought to justice...in some way at least... what good could it possibly do for Madelaine now? It pains me to say this, but now that I think about it...justice is all and well. Had I the strength, I could even thank you for what you've done, but....I don't suppose it could possibly bring Madelaine back, could it?"

It was a question that needed not an answer, for the answer was already known. Jase left the question hanging, for he did not see the need to press Adam for an answer to such an inquiry. The sudden change in his expression signaled that the subject was to be dropped entirely. And that was when he looked towards Adam suddenly, an expression on his face that had a hint of pleading on it.

"Please...don't tell Shoko."

Adam stayed very silent as Jase spoke, the pain and anguish apparent by the weary expression that the young man wore on his face. Quite evidently, Madelaine's death was in the midst of destroying her parents. Adam saw this, and opted not to speak on any more about what he had done to Cody, seeing the points that Jase made for what they were: virtual truths. The man was quite correct in a number of things that he said. Adam would have a very difficult time retaining his humanity, this he knew for a fact. But at the man's last request, Adam nodded, an understanding having come upon his face.

"No, I promise you, I will not. I guess... I guess that's really it. I came here to let you know what kind of a person your daughter was in the darkest hours of her life. She was sweet, kind, and smart. She kept us all up when we were feeling down, and we looked to her when the going got rough. I may not have known her for very long, but at the end, it felt like I did. It's sad to say that a lot of people are probably going to forget all about what happened here, but I never will. I will never forget her. And... if there's one thing that I can ask of you... it's this: please remember Madelaine for who she was, and what made you so proud of her. Don't remember how she ended up, but remember every bit of good that she stood for. When you think of her, please... think of how it was you felt when she spoke up, told a joke, or just sat in a room with you. If you remember all of that, then maybe... just maybe the pain might be a little more tolerable."

Adam slowly stood up, and sighed a little. As he opened his mouth to declare his intentions upon leaving, his eyes went wide, almost as though he'd forgotten something – which he had. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out what looked to be a small book. The book was missing both of it's covers, and was filled with writing. The pages were curled, obviously from water-damage, but the letters and words were still very legible. Adam took a look at the book, and then held it out in front of him, towards Jase.

"Oh. I... I found this on the island, clutched in the hands of a dead kid. I don't know what he was doing with it, but ... the important thing is that I found it, and I think that you should have it. I think it'll end up being more important to you than it is to me."

In Adam's outstretched hand, he held the remains of what had been Madelaine Shirohara's diary, filled completely with the writings of a girl who had touched the lives of so many in her short lifetime. Adam gestured for Jase to take it.

In response, Jase cast an inquiring look towards Adam, frowning somewhat in confusion as Adam handed the book, at first not at all recognizing it exactly what it was in its current state. Still, nonetheless, he was compelled to take a closer look out of curiosity, and took the small, worn book into his own hands. It was about that moment that Shoko finally emerged from the bathroom, tears gone, though her face was still red and tired. Returning just in time to see Adam hand the book to Jase, she wandered over for a closer look.

"What's that?"

In the meantime, Jase looked towards Adam with a questioning expression upon his face before turning back to the small book, about to turn a page. His hand stopped as his eyes caught what words were still legible, spared from water damage, upon the stiff, wrinkled page. His hands shook slightly, as though deliberating on daring to look further. In the end, his need for confirmation drove him to sort through each of the pages of the small notebook, all the while a look of realization gradually formed on his face...

"Oh...it's her..." Shoko's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, not daring to believe it.

But it was not long until an object was loosened from among the pages as Jase flipped through the book. In the moment that followed, what appeared to be a small photo suddenly slipped out of the notebook to slide onto the tray, where it landed face up, floating on the small puddle of tea that Shoko had accidentally spilt earlier.

"It's her diary," Jase said simply, though with incredulity at the very realization.

"That's right....she always loved writing. She'd always carry a notebook with her all the time, and write whenever she could," Shoko said, as though only making an oddhanded remark, trying to sound as though everything was still alright, trying for just one moment to pretend that their daughter was not dead but somewhere out in the world, and that everything was the way it should be. But as slowly it had taken for Shoko to control her tears, her eyes quickly welled up once again.

"She always wanted to become a writer...no, she wanted to become so many things. She always wanted to travel and see the world...meet new people, but at the same time she said she wanted to live with us when she grew up...and even then she said she wanted to marry and have a family of her own. She wanted to live a simple, ordinary life...but at the same time one that was beyond simple, beyond ordinary...a happy life with the people she loved. That was all she wanted."

It was at this point, the time in which Shoko reflected on a life that their daughter would have wanted but would never live, that the father's composure finally shattered completely. His face contorted in an anguished expression as he removed his glasses with a hand, covering his face with the back of it, his back shuddering slightly as tears could be seen running down the contour of his face.

Next to him, the mother turned away completely, her back facing Jase and Adam, for now simply covering her face with her hands simply wasn't enough to give her the privacy to let go of the sudden emotions that had suddenly resurfaced there and then.

Neither of them spoke a word in the moment that followed, for there was not a word that needed to be said. All that could be heard was the silent tears of two grieving parents, mourning the loss of one who was their own, now taken most unnaturally, most forcibly from this world, and leaving them with a loss...an empty void that could not be filled.

Adam watched as both adults in front of him visibly broke down as a result of the diary that Adam had managed to rescue from the island.

Instead of their daughter, they had only been able to rescue a part of her from the island... her thoughts, dreams, and emotions.

Now, he figured, was the perfect time to make an exit. A silent one, at that. Madelaine's family had a lot to deal with, and Adam assumed that this was the best time – frankly the only time he would likely get to silently slip away. The discussion had been harsh, and Adam had quite a bit to think about, himself – Jase's words stung him like a slap to the face. Unfortunately, Adam knew that they were all true, and it would be something he'd struggle with for the rest of his natural life. Not knowing what else to say to Madelaine's parents, he simply informed them of his decision.

"I'm going to leave you all be, now. I'm... I'm sure you probably want to be alone. I'm sorry if my visit has caused you any grief. Goodbye... "

With that, he slowly turned around and headed towards the front door.

Before two parents deep in sorrow, Adam was left forgotten even as he discreetly made his way towards the door, preparing to leave the household, as well as the family to mourn their loss. Neither mother nor father seemed willing to discuss the matter further in their current state, nor did there seem to be a need to. All that Jase and Shoko Shirohara could think about right now was the loss that would never be filled, the wounds that would never heal, the rift between the family that would gradually break them, and finally, the daughter that would never return to them.

As he stood and began to walk slowly towards the front door, something made him stop. Perhaps a subliminal feeling, perhaps a residual effect of the island, but he felt as though someone was watching him. Slowly, as not to induce any sort of threatening gesture, he turned around and looked at the person who was watching him.

The small, auburn-haired girl who had been in the kitchen for all this time, distracted by the decade-old television, now stood by the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen. Her large eyes looked directly up towards Adam in a quiet, non-threatening, yet somehow scrutinizing gaze.

Shoko noticed her first, and then Jase when Shoko quickly grabbed his shoulder to turn his attention to Miriam. Both reacted with alarm, possibly even with fear.

"Miriam, please go back into the kitchen," Jase started helplessly, moving towards his daughter and gesturing in an attempt to divert her attention away from Adam. But he knew that it was too late, judging from the way the three-year-old simply looked back at him with an almost defiant expression on her face. It was almost childish, the way her lips were drawn into a pout, her shoulders rising stiffly as she stood her ground. Even so, it was soon made clear just how strong her resolve was, even for a small preschooler.
Due to her height, she had to break into a run to cover the distance between Adam and herself, at whom, upon coming to a stop before him, she began bombarding with questions of her own.

"Where's Maddie? You're Maddie's friend, right? Do you know where did she go? Where did Maddie go?"

Her voice was shrill and plaintive, with nothing atypical of an ordinary three-year-old pelting an adult with endless inquiries in a futile search for the simplest answer.

"Miri, he's leaving. Just come here, okay? Don't bother him..." Shoko's voice trailed off, knowing full well the futility of the effort to divert her youngest daughter's attention from her relentless interrogation.

The world seemed freeze over as Miriam latched her hand onto the knee of Adam's jeans, continuing to ask in a voice that was pleading, and pleading desperately for a straight answer. And the more questions she asked the more it seemed that she would never stop asking until someone told her. Whether the truth would be happy or sad, it seemed as though there would never be an end to asking as long as those she asked denied her an answer.

"What happen to Maddie? Is she okay? Did Maddie get lost? Did she get hurt? When will Maddie come back? Why does Otou-chan and Okaa-chan look sad when I talk about Maddie? Are you going to tell me anything? How is Maddie right now? Does she miss me? Is she sad or lonely? Do you know? Do you?"

Adam was taken aback.

It was one thing dealing with a pair of heavily distraught parents who likely held an internal hatred for everything that Adam now stood for – being Survival of the Fittest's only survivor identified him as something that they probably should dislike, and the intense conversation that he'd had with Madelaine's parents had been difficult, if nothing else. But what he hadn't anticipated was taking pointed questions from a little girl. As the little girl bombarded Adam with questions, he was at a loss for words. Dealing with kids hadn't been something that he was all that good at, primarily because he wasn't used to it. Nonetheless, he figured that he'd better try his damndest to at least give the little girl some sort of answer. Grimacing for a split-second as he knelt down to at least be able to look the child in the face, he thought long and hard about what he would tell her. As he opened his mouth to speak, he forced himself to smile, even though his eyes looked sad.

"Well... you must be Miriam... Madelaine talked about you a lot. She always talked about how proud of you she was."

Adam's eyes fell, and he forced himself to turn into a pillar, for breaking down in front of the girl would do nobody any good.

"Maddie... she's gone on... a trip. I promise you that she's not lonely at all, and she does miss you very much. But... she told me to tell you that she's going to be gone for a long time, but even though she's gone away, she's always going to be checking up on you when you're asleep. She said that she wants you to make sure you always make sure you try hard in everything, because then you can grow up to be really awesome, just like her, and just like your mommy."

Adam sighed a little, and stood up. There wasn't much that he could say to the girl without flat out telling her that her sister was dead. The pointed questions the girl asked made him realize that her parents hadn't told her the truth, and Adam decided that he was sure as hell not going to be the one to break it to her.

All that time, Miriam gazed at him wide-eyed in rapt silence, taking in all that the tall, strange man with bandages on his ear and cuts on his hands was saying to her. With ever that childlike look that seemed to hunger for answers, it was hard to tell at first whether the answers Adam offered her were satisfactory for her at all, or whether her young mind could comprehend all that he was saying to her.

But because she was still but a child, with a naive outlook on life with a trusting nature towards the most simplest of answers, she was not yet old enough to understand just how complicated even the simplest truth could be to explain. Though it was clear she did not completely comprehend what Adam was telling her, the fact that he at least gave her an answer seemed truth enough for her, and it satisfied her.

"Oh, okay!" Miriam said, nodding vigorously to show she understood. "I'll work hard and make her proud, and I'll be good too. Maddie wants that, right? I think she does."

She turned a heel to run back to her parents, who were by now ill with apprehension at the sudden encounter between Adam Dodd and their youngest daughter. The look of relief was all too clear on Shoko's worried face as Miriam ran over to her to stand next to her and grasp onto the worn hem of her mother's dress. Less noticeable, yet apparent nonetheless was the look of the slightest gratitude on the mother's face as she turned her gaze back towards Adam.

Crouching slightly, Jase placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, as though he sought security for the only daughter he had left. Three pairs of eyes turned towards Adam as he stood before the doorway.

"I suppose...I suppose that you're leaving now," Jase murmured slightly, as a simple statement, not knowing what else to say. He and Shoko fell silent together as they looked towards the one who survived the very experiences and ordeals that their daughter could not, unable to think of a suitable farewell for this stranger. Their minds and hearts were weary and strained from the weight of their grief, as well as the discussion that had been brought up by Adam Dodd, who had seen fit to intrude into their lives out of the blue....though if only to apologize and explain everything. It seemed inappropriate to bid him to "Have a good day" given what he'd been through, and a simple "Thank you" didn't seem like the right thing to say as such a time either.

But it was Miriam who took the burden off of their shoulders and spoke out in a friendly voice towards Adam as a way of bidding him goodbye.

"Take care, okay? Say hello to Maddie for me."

As he looked over the three remaining members of Madelaine's family, the last words from Miriam hit him hard. Biting his lip to keep himself from breaking down, Adam smiled weakly at the little girl and flashed her a 'thumbs-up'. Silently, he then looked both at Jase and then at Shoko and nodded to them, a sign of respect for a family that would undoubtedly be reeling in the coming days. Turning around again, Adam moved towards the front door. Slipping his shoes on, the same, stained shoes that he'd worn on the island (he hadn't though to buy new ones yet, though he'd vehemently cleaned them off), Adam then pushed the door open and exited the house without a second word. He knew that he'd likely been the cause of distress, and in a way, he was going around, bringing up bad memories, but it was something that he had to do, lest his peace of mind might never return.

July 8, 2005
The Judah Residence
Denton, New Jersey

Stepping up onto the porch of a small red house that he'd never even seen before, Adam Dodd wondered just where his travels were going to lead him next. The past month had been chock full of emotion for him, and at times, he missed the feeling of how it had been to be a typical suburban teenager, not having to give a crap about anything except getting his homework done and waking up on time for school every day. There were times that he wondered if there would ever be a time that he would be able to go back to the life that he'd left behind; though in his heart he knew that it would never be the case. Survival of the Fittest had seen far-reaching implications for everyone involved - from all of the dead students, to the terrorists who were all now on the FBI and Interpol's most wanted lists, to the families that had lost someone, to the lone winner himself. Even the politicians in the United States hadn't been spared, as Adam knew that there was about to be a large swing as far as the political structure went, thanks to the horrific events of June of 05. So for Adam Dodd to want his old life back, to have forgotten all about SOTF and still be sitting in class, telling a joke to Andrew Lipson and tossing a pencil at River Garraty, all the while being teased about his crush on Amanda Jones by the gruff voice of Eddie Serjeantson, it just didn't seem like it was possible.

No, it's NOT possible. War changes people, and as much as it wasn't really a war as much as extreme emotional trauma, it still had the same aftereffect. It fucked me, and good.

So as he stood on this strange porch and half-wondered what he was even doing, or if he even had the right house, it was easy to say that Adam had a lot on his mind. Ever since he'd recovered from the initial shock and taken a day or two to recover, sleeping the majority of the time away with nightmare-infested dreams, Adam had been deciding what he needed to do. There had been promises that he'd made on the island to people who he considered friends, and he'd made a list of things that he had promised himself that he would do.

It's not even a promise. It's something I will force myself to do, even if it were to somehow end up in my death. I can't do otherwise, I owe it to my friends to do it, since I couldn't keep 'em alive...

Looking at the address on the paper he held in his hand, he looked at the house in front of him. It seemed to be the correct address, so, sighing ever so slightly, Adam put his hand onto the doorbell and rang it, awaiting an answer.

It seemed it was the middle of any typical day in the Judah household, least to Edgar - his dad was at work, doing whatever he did for those twelve hours he was working, his mother was in the living room watching one of her many day-time TV shows that she watched, and he, he was stuck doing the dishes, but like he said, this really was all per usual it seemed. Least as normal as it got, this past month had been a weird one, what with all these visits from people he didn't know that had come to visit his mother from New York, not to mention there was just his mother's overall sudden change in behavior, she didn't seem like her old always cheerful self, always being the bright spot in amongst there small little family.

In fact it seemed as if she was slowly becoming a shell of her former self, and he just didn't understand what was happening anymore, or he didn't want to understand. The blaring TV brought him some removal from his own thoughts, it wasn't the usual Soap, or random day-time show, by the sounds of it, it sounded to be one of the new broadcasting that had been running day and night since that... that Survival of the Fittest that had ended some time last month. To say you hadn't heard it, meant you had probably living under a rock, as a majority of the students where kidnapped only one state up in New York, the kids in the surrounding cities, as well as flooding the heightened security into New Jersey. His middle school had more or less turned into a high security prison, and soon after this happened and it became available for everyone who wanted to view it, could - it almost became like the latest card game for children, everyone talked about it and that's almost all there seemed to be too talk about.

Did you see the latest episode?

Did you see how so-and-so died?

I bet...

That's all it seemed to be to everyone, one big game, and for awhile - it seemed as though that's all it was to him, a game, he didn't believe they'd allow something like this to happen. So it had all had to be some joke, right? But when the local stations started reporting on all that was happening up in the city that a majority of these kids had came from in New York, he slowly found that unable to just put it off as some silly game. And found himself to continue to watch it, though that quickly ended on the third day when his parents forbid him from continuing to watch it - it was around then, he remembered, that his mother slowly began to become withdrawn from her family, and focused solely on the news.

Edgar found a slow sigh escaping him as he placed the last of the dishes away to dry, rubbing his hands against his jeans as he shut the water off and moved away from the sink, wondering off toward where the where the sound of the TV was blasting from, standing in the small doorway leading in the living room. Eyes scanning over the new reporter, speaking to a crying woman as her husband, boyfriend... whoever hugged her close, it seemed as though they where interviewing more parents of the kids who had died in that horrible game. Ed couldn't understand why, why anyone would want to be spoken to, let alone talk about something that had ended his or her child's life.

"Finished already?"

Blinking himself out of thought, he turned his head toward the source of the voice finding himself looking at his smiling mother, resting the folded shirt down in her lap. An older woman now, 37 to be right, her long red was tied up in a loose bun, strands of it falling about. She was simply dressed for a Saturday afternoon, not having to work at the hospital and just trying to find some relaxation in what little time she had off as of late. Freckled face, and hazel eyes musing back at her 13-year-old son, so simply sighed again at this question as he nodded his head, "Yes ma'mm."

Lillian Judah mused another smile, glancing back at the TV, the smallest flinch of something - sadness, anger, Edgar couldn't tell from where he stood flash across her features before she sighed and returned to her folding, the young red head who had more or less took his looks from this woman tilted his head ever so slightly, this was bothering him more than anything, all this emotion that spiraled around and always came back to this Survival of the Fittest. "Hey, mom?" He voiced out before he even had much thought as too how he was going to go about asking this, his mother blinking and glancing back toward her son, looking thoughtful. "What is it sweetie?"

"Well - um," Before he even had the chance to ask the question, the doorbell coming alive throughout the house interrupted him, he leaning out of the doorway leading into the living room and glancing toward the door, "My, who could that be? Are you expecting anyone Edgar?" Lillian questioned, glancing a bit from her spot.

Edgar shook his head, "No, probably just those bleeding witnesses again. I'll handle this."

Reaching the door, he sighed, already thought out what was going to be said - but when he opened the front door of their home he found himself blinking a slight at the sight. As almost if a wave of odd familiarity washed over. Brushing some of his red hair from his eyes as he looked out at the person currently standing out on their porch. "Can I help you?"

Adam blinked in what was almost surprise. As the door opened, Adam almost did a double-take at the teenager who'd answered the door. If he hadn't known better, he would have mistaken the person standing at the door for the late Hawley Faust.

That would raise questions in itself, though... jeez, redheads, they're everywhere. What is it Hawley would've said... oi?

Composing himself and realizing after his slight surprise that the boy standing in front of him was quite definitely not his dead friend, Adam reached into his pocket and removed a picture. It was the same one that Hawley had kept on him, in his wallet, the entire time that he'd been on the island, and that he'd shown to Adam shortly before his death. Glancing at the small photo of the red-haired woman, he softly rubbed the bandage over his ear, as though it had started itching. Quickly flipping it over, he looked at the back to see if there was a name written there (he couldn't recall checking while he was on the island, or even after). There wasn't. Furrowing his brow, Adam looked back up at the kid standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, um. I hope. I'm looking for this woman. I was given this address and told that I should be able to find her here. Um, do you know her, or where I could find her?"

Adam handed the boy the small picture.

Edgar found himself blinking a bit more at the other went on about all but staring, perhaps it was some random crack-head that had wondered up, that wouldn't be surprised namely the area that they called home. But there was still that sinking feeling setting over him that he knew this person from somewhere, but he found he just couldn't put his finger on it no matter how much he pushed himself to try and remember. Then again this just proved how horrible he was at remembering people's names, faces rang clear in his head, but goodness forbid.

As the other went about removing what seemed to a picture of sorts from his pocket, Ed furrowing his brow at this, watching in a slight manner as the other went about flipping the picture over, he only catching a small bit of it before it was flipped over again and the older boy began speaking, saying he had been given the picture in his hand and this address in an attempt to find someone, he not explaining as too why he was looking for this person but as the other handed the picture over to him he couldn't help the slight flash of confusion.

There was no mistake to it; it was his mother, much younger in this picture than most they had around the house. Though what bothered him the most was that though she was pregnant, from all the pictures he had seen of her when she was pregnant with him it had been shortly after she had cut her hair short, and in this picture her hair was as long as it was now, and the lack of a wedding ring on her hand brought even more confusion on him. This really wasn't making any to little sense...

"What... what is this about?" Ed questioned, flipping the picture over himself. "Who are you? And what do you want with my mum?"

Adam lightly scratched the back of his neck. He was definitely glad that he'd come to the right place, but it seemed as though this teenager was of the nosy sort, and of course, with the way that Adam looked, all beaten up and whatnot, it only made sense that he'd be a little hesitant to let him in. Sighing slightly, he looked at the boy.

"My name's Adam Dodd. I'm, uh... I'm here to speak with... your mother, I guess, about... a kid named Hawley Faust. Is, uh, is she here?"

"Hawley?" He repeated, the name bringing back a flash of another familiarity, glancing downward a slight bit as he glanced over the picture again. Survival of the Fittest... that's where that Hawley name rang familiar, and that meant... "Oh, damn." Edgar sighed, pinching and rubbing the bridge of his nose lightly.

He really didn't know what he should do, though glancing off toward where the living room was from over his shoulder he turned back of this Adam Dodd and stepped aside, opening the door the rest of the way. "Come on in... "

It was around that time when Lillian's curiosity had got the better of her, wondering away from where she had been sitting on the couch, pile of folded towels in hand. As she stepped out, she took a glance toward what had taken Edgar's attention for such a while, finding herself looking at an older boy that she didn't know, blinking some at her son. "I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone Edgar."

"He's not here for me, he's here for you."

Lily didn't say anything to this, just simply watched, moving to place the pile down in the small hamper that set at the entrance of another hall. Turning back to the door and smiling at the other male. "Well, please, come in then. What is it you need?"

Adam sighed a little as he stepped within the house. Although the neighbourhood had a bit of a silent feeling to it, the house itself had a very warm and cozy aura, and Adam felt comfortable as soon as he stepped inside. That comfort soon vanished, though, as Adam's mind remembered the burden that it was carrying with it, and his neck began to stiffen up, as it usually did when he was nervous or anxious about something. Standing in the doorway of the house, he looked at the woman who he had promised Hawley that he would find. She was indeed, as beautiful as he had inferenced when he'd spoken about her. Her red hair reminded him quite a bit of how Hawley's hair had looked, and Adam could see right away that he'd found the right woman. The woman in front of him shared a few facial features with his late friend, and if there could have been any doubt in his mind between the picture that he'd had (there hadn't been) and the woman standing here in front of him, it would have all been erased.

As it was, Adam stood in the doorway of the house, feeling oddly like someone who was about to deliver bad news to a good person. In his head, he recalled the words that Hawley had said, back on the island, in the lighthouse as they sat, recovering from a fierce battle. Adam had remembered it before as being on the dirt path, with Alan, but now that he had eaten and slept, he recalled it as it had been, back at the Lighthouse. It was, in fact, a memory that he likely wouldn't forget. None of it would be forgettable at all.

Glancing at the pictures again, he sighed. "I never saw my real mother after she was kicked out of the house that day... After I found out who she really was, I always used to wonder what she doing now. Was she thinking about me, did she still even care... guess I'll never find out now."

Adam couldn't help but wonder if the red-haired woman had thought about Hawley at all. He wondered if she checked up on him at school, or if she knew about his involvement in Survival of the Fittest. At the very least, it would be an awkward conversation between an emotionally devastated teenager and a woman who meant a lot to a person she didn't even know. That, of course, was likely the best-case scenario. It involved the least bit of emotion, and Adam would be able to let the woman know what Hawley had wanted her to tell him. Though, after the visit he'd had with Madelaine's family, he knew that the odds of that happening were very strongly against him.

"Well... I would like to talk to you about... a friend of mine. A... uh... a person you may, or may not know... uh, my name is Adam Dodd, and I'd like to speak to you about Hawley Faust."

Edgar slowly closed the door as the other made his way into their home, the young teenager's eyes never drifting that far away from him. He noting as the other went about repeating words to his mother that he had spoken to him not moments before, his mother reaction seemed to be very different from the one he had given the other male, it was the same expression she wore every time those people from New York had come, and every time she had watched the news about Survival of the Fittest, Lillian's eyes trailing away from their visitor and toward the floor, before a smile - hugely forced - came up, and she turned on Edgar himself.

"Edgar, why don't you go to your room while Adam and I talk, alright?" She spoke slowly, the reaction of what almost seemed to be tears appearing in usually happy hazel eyes. Though he was tempted to reject the request and kick this person out of the house, he found himself clenching a fist where he stood by the door, simply nodding his head and moving past both this Adam guy and his mother, and into the hall, partly shutting his door rather loudly once inside.

Lillian watched this, before turning back toward Adam, forced smile focusing on her lips again. "You'll have to excuse Edgar, and you'll have to excuse me as well." She said as she brought the cuff of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing, and dapping at her eyes a bit, "Here, why don't we sit and you tell me what you have to tell."

Moving away she moved back into the living area, grabbing the remote and flipping the TV off as the Survival of the Fittest report on the news channel continued on. Lillian taking a seat where she had formerly been sitting, sighing lightly, "It's odd really I've come to notice." She began softly...

"Ever since he was born, and when I gave him up to Jason because I knew they'd be able to take of him more than I ever hope too, give him what he needed. Protect him... Ever since I decided this, I have missed him so much, there hasn't been a day I haven't gone without thinking about my son." She said, clutching hands together slightly. "When Edgar was born that helped eased the pain and loneliness that had settled in over me when I finally came to notice... that... I'd probably never see Hawley again. But Jason kept me up to date, least as best as he could, It's just... I never figured that when I'd actually start hearing about him more was because he had died."

Adam had followed Lillian into the living room and had sat down on the couch as she did, listening to what the soft-spoken woman had to say. As she revealed that she had thought of Hawley often, almost every single day, Adam had to bite his lip. This was absolute torture that he was putting himself through. And yet, it was so very necessary.

"Yeah, it's... kind of messed up. You... you're probably wondering what kind of stake that I had in this. Well... in case you hadn't guessed by the bandage on my ear, the two black eyes... or just the general sense of recognition... I'm Adam Dodd... I was the only person who walked out of Survival of the Fittest, where Hawley died."

Shutting his eyes for a moment, Adam wondered if he'd ever be able to stop introducing himself like that.

"Hawley and I didn't really know each other before Survival of the Fittest, but he was one of the first people that I ran into on the island, and... well, we just sort of hung around after that. I can't believe that I didn't meet him beforehand, because he was a great guy. He was a little misunderstood at times, and he definitely had a bit of a problem with depression, but he was a great guy, he really was. I trusted him, and he was my best friend on the island. We watched each other's backs, and we both tried to last as long as possible, to make it out... you know, make up some kind of plan."

Adam hesitated a little bit, and arranged the words that were blustering around inside of his head.

"I don't know if you knew what kind of person your son was, but... Hawley died because he spent too much time looking after everyone else and not enough time looking after himself. He had ... a burn that he let get infected, because he forgot about it. He was too busy looking after people. He saved my life, actually. It got infected, and... he died. I can't say that it wasn't painful for him, because... his last moments weren't pleasant for any of us. He really was, in the truest sense of the word, a hero. He was a hero to me, anyways. He was one of two people that I really looked up to while I was there. He, uh... he didn't really share much with anyone but me, and so...I guess it's kind of weird that I'm standing here right now... "

"I figured you must have something to do with it, it's not everyday I have cases such as yourself show up on my doorstep." Lillian said in a fond manner, watching as he made a seat on the couch as well, and began speaking, speaking mostly of the time spent with her son - and the reason as too why he died - frowning slightly as he finished.

"Though that's another odd thing Adam." She began lightly from her position, drifting her attention downward to her fingers as they went about curling and uncurling about the fabric of the shirt she wore, breathing in after a moment and returning her attention on the sole survivor of that horrible event that those men had called a game. "You are right in saying that I don't know the kind of person my son was, and though you only spent a short amount of time with Hawley, those few days t - that is more than I ever got too while he was alive, and even more you probably knew him better than anyone, including his family, ever knew."

She sighed lightly at this, smiling softly ever how sadness was also forced down upon it. "His older brothers were the ones to tell me... they came here, shortly after it happened. They explained to me that they had watched it since they had been told about it, since they where visited by what I guess I could call a representative of the man that ran Survival of the Fittest. They went through the story to the best of their abilities, from the start all the way until he died... I - Jason never told me everything I suppose, he never did explain to me about, just how upset Hawley was, They also told me that even though the worst that could happen was happening, his brothers told me that he was so -" The sentence was cut off a bit slightly as a she let out a long breath, trying hard to stay composed, turning her full attention on the bruised and bandaged boy she was sitting with.

"That he seemed so happy, for the first time in a long time, when he was there... when he was with you and the others. That it was all of you, his friends, that gave him what every person needs - someone that cared, something we as his family didn't."

She tried hard to keep her smile at this, though it soon faded as a choked sob racked over her and she shook her head, burying her face a bit in the palm of her hands. "I promised myself... I wouldn't cry, not anymore. That I had to stay strong for Edgar, but... " She trailed off, looking toward Adam in a lightly manner as she slowly shook her head. "Never once. I never once did I ever get a chance to speak to my son, or hold him since he had been born, just... be a mother for him." She choked out, shaking her head once more as she brought her hands to cover her face.

From his position alongside the doorway leading into the living room, Edgar figured perhaps it would be best to return to his room like his mother had told him - but having stood here and listened to the exchange of words between the two, never once had he heard any mention of his mother having another child, he didn't know... any of this, and know all of a sudden he had an older brother and the survivor of something more than half the world had their eyes on sitting on his living room couch. None of this was making sense, he couldn't take hearing his mother cry and wondered if throwing this Adam Dodd out would be for the best, but before he had a chance to do anything, something broke through into his world of thoughts.

"For so long - I've wanted to say that I was sorry, for how things happened - I just wanted him to know though I hadn't been there for him, I still cared and what I did was in his best interest... I just wanted him to understand, and know that I did love him."

Adam listened to Lillian speak, and listened to how things had gone from her end of the spectrum. When she mentioned how happy Hawley had seemed, Adam nodded and scratched the back of his neck.

"We talked at length when we were on the island. I mean, when you have people wandering around trying to kill you, it's hard to trust anyone. Once you do, you... you share things, you share stories. Anything to feel normal again. I'd never known Hawley much, nor did I ever see him as one of the talkative ones around school, but he opened up to me... he told me about how he had brothers, and showed me a picture of his family. But... there was one instance... after we'd just finished fighting for our lives, that he showed me that picture, and next to it was one of this woman. She had red hair, more like Hawley's shade of red as opposed to mine. She was pregnant, and she was definitely a beautiful woman. Hawley... he spoke of her. He said that he found it in his parents' room and that he often wondered who she was, at least, until he found out."

Adam stopped, and tried to remember what Hawley had said.

"Hawley wondered if his real mother thought about him a lot, and whether or not she still cared about him. He thought about her all the time, even though he'd never really met her. He said that he wished he had known her, and he often wondered if he'd have fit in better with his real mother, because he never fit in well with his adopted one. He said that she hated him for not being a biological child... and he just wished that he would have gotten to know his real mom. Which... I guess, was you."

Adam glanced down at the floor.

"As he was dying, he asked me if I would do him one last favour... he asked me to get out of there, and... " Adam choked a little bit. "... and I promised him that I would... I'd get out, and I'd find you, and let you know... just how much you meant to him. Even though you weren't there... he always carried this with him... "

Adam indicated the picture.

Lillian found herself able to smile slightly through the tears, listening to the words that Adam was speaking - glancing the picture over a little as it was made mentioned of, reaching out slowly to take a hold it and look it over fully before a full grin mused of her features. "My sister took this picture about two weeks before he was born, I suppose I remember it well because he did nothing but kick the whole last two weeks. I'm surprised that this was kept, I gave it to Jason because we hadn't seen one another since I moved to another town in New York - hmm." She said softly, hold kept on the picture as she rested it down in her lap.

"But. As I told you, I have always wanted to make up for what happened, I remember I tried to take him back at one point, after I had married, had Edgar and had a stable life - he was around nine, if I'm not mistaken. First time I had seen him since he had been about two, it was Abigail - his stepmother - who wanted nothing to do with it though, she was the one that wouldn't allow me to take him, let alone see him. Though I suppose that it was for the better in some way at that time, he seemed happy and they had been the ones to raise them and I had no right to take him away, no matter how much I wanted too."

She smiled again though, glancing toward the picture once more. "I'm just happy to know that he knew who I was, though he might not have known how much I did care and that I wasn't there for him, I'm still glad he knew I was out there... " Lily said, brushing her hand under her eyes as she sighed.

Adam nodded once again, confirming what Lily had said.

"If nothing else, he definitely knew who you were. Y'know... there's something that I said to Hawley on the island. God knows that I can't remember when, but it's something that I know I said that stuck out to me, and I truly believe it. I told him, and I think he believed it too, because it put him at a lot more peace than he'd been in than I'd seen him, really... ever. I told him that the old saying is true - we can choose our friends, but we can't choose our family. That's how important family is. But I think that it goes beyond that. I think that no matter where your biological parents are, be they living in a different city, a different country... living in the same house, or even six feet under the ground, they have an impact upon who you are and who you end up becoming. Hawley always regretted that he was never able to contact you - again, as you said, his step-mother wouldn't allow it. But I believe that even though he never knew you; the part that you passed to him, the genetics, which creates a special bond between mother and child, that part of you was always in him and with him. I said that even though he never knew his real mother, she still had an effect on who he was, because that part of her was within him, and vice versa. I know it sounds like a lot of spiritual garbage, but it's what I believe."

Sighing a little, Adam thought back to Hawley's death. It had been an emotional time, and only Madelaine had witnessed it, and barely. Adam had been sitting with the boy when his injuries had caught up to him, and it was a moment in his life that he knew he would never forget, even if he became a demented old man who couldn't remember what he enjoyed eating for breakfast. If he were doomed to repeat any memory in history, it would be that one.

"At the bitter end... Hawley confessed to me that he had wanted to do so much more, and had wanted to show people that he wasn't like how they thought that he was. Y'know what I told him?"

He paused, the memory a lot to handle.

"I told him that he was exactly how people thought that he was. He didn't need to prove anything, to anyone. In our eyes, in the eyes of his friends, he was redeemed for whatever he thought that he needed to redeem himself for. Out there, he was my best friend, and I felt absolutely alone when he was gone. I told him that in my eyes, he was a hero, because none of us would have gotten that far without him. And I think... that in the very end... he realized it. He realized how much he meant to all of us, and I think that for the first time in a really long time, he was at peace with himself. He told me that he had me to thank for it, but... I don't think that's true. I think that all he needed was a few friends along the way to help him believe in himself again. We believed in him, and he believed in us... "

Wiping some moisture away from his eyes, he looked up at Lily.

"So I guess that's why I'm here. To tell you about your son. To let you know that he was one-of-a-kind. He was a stand up guy, and he was a person I felt privileged to call a friend... and as I said before, he's one of the few people in that game that I felt that I could call a hero, in every single sense of the word."

As Adam's speech came to an end, a period of silence followed over as Lillian sat and allowed the words to sink in, each and every one striking a small cord with the woman. Hands clutching the picture in a small manner, as she looked it over, sighing lightly as she turned her attention faintly on the picture and then on the boy sitting near her. "And... I am glad you came here today Adam, you really don't know how much this means to me. I - I always regret that I was never able to truly be a mother to my son, and that I never once told him how much I cared, how much I loved him."

Lillian sighed again after this, working herself up onto her feet and padding slowly across the room as she glanced outward slightly of the only source of natural sunlight in the room. "I'm happy to have known what a good person he turned out to be even though I wasn't there for him, even though I wasn't there to hold his hand and help him on through life like any mother should. I'm glad to have known in some way... some how that I -" She muttered, choking a bit on fresh tears. "That I in some way, ever how small it might be affected him to allow him to become the person you where with when he died."

Folding hands over the picture, she glanced it over once more.

"But, even though he isn't here anymore, I'll always have him you see? Because he was my son, my child - and I'll forever have him. Whatever better place he might be in now... but I do still have Edgar here, and I have to carry on strong for him - do what I can for him that I wasn't able to do for Hawley."

She smiled at this, though slight concern crossed her features. "But what about you? I've been so kind as too have come out, here - is there anything I can do to help you in return?"

Adam shook his head slightly, but smiled softly.

"No, but thank you. I appreciate the offer, I really do. What... what happened in SOTF is something that's going to be with me for a long, long time, and I don't know exactly how long that it's going to take me to get over it completely. Or, if I ever will. But... I do appreciate your kindness. I know it's not easy to take in what I've told you, and I hope that it doesn't cause you any undue grief. But... I guess as something that you can take solace in... if nothing else, anyways, it's the knowledge that you and he had a connection that stretched through a lot."

Adam stood up slowly, wincing as his knees stressed from the movement. Ever since the island, where he'd run a lot, and put intense pressure upon his knees, they'd hurt quite a bit. The doctors had set up an appointment for a few weeks from when he'd get them scoped, but until then, Adam was in a constant pain when he moved them.

"I've definitely taken up enough of your time, but I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. It... it's nice to speak with friendly faces rather than ones who are sneaking up and trying to kill you every five seconds... " Adam's voice trailed off as he remembered something.

"Oh! Right. There's one more thing. I know that you didn't know Hawley at all, but... maybe you can get a sense of the person that he was... from what I've told you, and from this... "

Adam removed a small book from his pocket and set it down on the table in front of Lily.

"... it was Hawley's journal. He wrote in it all the time, from what he told me, and I saw him doing it quite a bit during our down-time in SOTF. The damn thing's nearly full, so maybe it'll give you a bit of an insight as to who he was... "

As Lily sat, staring at the book on the coffee table, Adam nodded to her.

"Thanks again for seeing me, Mrs. Judah. It really means a lot to me - I made a promise to Hawley and I'm glad to be able to keep it."

Lily watched in a defeated manner as the other young man declined her offer for any type of help, it made her feel almost as if she was letting someone else done. Here this boy - probably a few years older than Edgar, closer to Hawley's age, had went out of his way after being trapped in a horrid game of life or death for ten days - and after losing so much he had found it important to keep a promise to a person he had only truly known for a few days, a promise to meet a woman that the other in question hadn't even truly seen or been around since the day he had been born - 16 years it would be in a little more than three months.

It was almost - heartbreaking in every sense of the world to watch Adam stand and ready to take his leave, she had found a connection to her dead son through this young man, he had known Hawley at his worst, and his best. Leaving the older woman at an slight sense of - ease in a sense, since she had first spoke to his brothers all that time ago.

"Well, though I am unable to help you - I must thank you Adam." She said moving to sit back down on the couch, shaking her head slightly as if disagreeing with a thought that happened to cross her mind. "You have given me solace in this - it... it means so much to known that though I wasn't even worth a mother to him, yet he still... he still cared enough to think of me, this has brought me some closure."

She watched, a bit slightly confused, as the young man went about removing something from his pocket, a small book of sorts that looked almost full to the brim of things. Lily casting it a light glance as he placed it on the table, before turning her eyes on Adam asking for an explanation that he was quick to give. Once it was clear to what it was, she reached out, taking a hold of it and looking it over, placing both it and the picture in her lap. She let out a jagged sigh, the faintest hint of tears visible once more.

"And once again, thank you so much Adam. This really does mean a lot to mean as well, though do remember if you do need anything - your welcome here," She said faintly, "I'm sure Hawley would have wanted it." She finished clutching at the journal in a meek manner.

As he said that, he nodded once more at the woman, and smiled a kind smile at her - as best as he could muster. With that, he turned around and walked out of the room, past Edgar, who was still listening in on the conversation, and right out the door, only stopping to put his shoes on. As he left the house, he felt a sense of contentment. That visit had not been nearly as emotional as the one to Madelaine's parents and for that, Adam was slightly glad. It had taken him a few hours to recover from that one, but this seemed quite a bit different.

And Hawley's real mom was such a nice lady; too... she really reminded me of him a lot... I guess it explains a bunch.

With that, he sighed to himself, and took off walking down the street.

As he left she didn't truly move from her place, listening lightly as the old door creaked open before snapping shut again. Just simply finding herself staring at the object she held in her lap, a smile finding her features slowly as the tears that she had fought hard to hold in the rest of the time Adam had been there slowly starting to fall, in the midst of this she hardly noted the other form entering the room. Mixed feelings of anger for what was making his mother upset, and sadness because she was upset slowly churning through Edgar as her stood in the doorway and watched his mother cry from her position on the couch. He wanted to say something, anything - but what could he? Though he hadn't listened to the words that had been spoken clear as day between them, he couldn't allow himself to understand them.

So... he simply stood, and watched unable to utter a sound to announce his presence to his grieving mother, the best actress in the world at that, he wondered if Adam had truly sensed how upset she was? He could tell even without seeing her, just by her voice - because it wasn't how she normally sounded - she sounded almost as if, all of this that had happened, all of this that had happened to this Hawley - she sounded as if it was tearing away at her from the inside, eating and raving on every shred of happiness she held dear...

He supposed, somewhere lost in his train of thought, she must of felt him watching because when he glanced back - her eyes where on in, red and puffing from crying, though trying, fighting to bring that everyday smile to her features. But... it just wasn't cutting it, the smile she wore was a mask of sorts, something to tell him not to worry, everything would be okay. And perhaps for a mere moment he thought that might be the truth of it all, but it all proved false far to quickly for any of them to grasp, and before he knew it, before he could understand. Edgar, too, was slowly finding his world turned inside out, and found the one person he thought could over come any problem that came into view - that person, was slowly falling away and he found her couldn't stop it, no matter how much he begged, cried, and prayed for it all to stop.

July 14, 2005
Memorial Hospital
Denton, New Jersey

"Good morning Denton! It's 15 minutes till 10 this morning on a beautiful July 14, the day will begin clear though as we go into the afternoon expect showers --"

The voice on the radio was all that he seemed to hear, though his father was standing right in front of him talking, Edgar's mind seemed to lack any ability to focus - listening to his dad one minute, the radio, the beeping of the machines that filled the hospital, one thing after another.

"Did you hear me, Edgar?"

No.

"Yes sir." He muttered slowly, eyeing his dad - dressed in his police uniform, dark eyes staring a bit down at him in a manner which he couldn't tell if it meant his dad was upset to see he wasn't listening at this moment, or perhaps it was all that was happening around them - like some twisted cyclone that was destroying everything it touched.

"I'll be back to pick you up later, if not - I'll get your grandmother to come get you alright?" David asked his son, watching as the smaller male slowly shook his head, eyes drifting off again, he lightly sighing as he rested a hand a top the boy's head, ruffling hair as he had done when Edgar had been a lot smaller, though now that seemed so very long ago. And with a curt nod, began down the stale white halls of the hospital, heading toward the elevators at the end of the hall.

Though his eyes where focused toward where his dad was heading at the end of the hall, he was hardly watching him, instead focused somewhere else. Though as thoughts slowly came into focus, and he took note that his dad was no longer there he found himself at an end. Pushing slowly off the wall that he had pressed himself against, and moving to push open the cracked door that he stood close by, glancing a bit toward the room sign as he remembered that his grandmother would be calling later to check and see so if she ever had to come get him, though staring at the plate, blue and white in color - he slowly went over it in his head...

PICU - Room 304
Judah, Lillian

Making note of this he slowly moved into the room, though it was bright out being close to ten, the room itself was as dark as they could manage to get it. Rather small, a bathroom to the right as you walked in before you walked into the main area of the room - radio humming as song he didn't know, the beeping of machines distracting him even further, though slowly eyes found the reason he was here to start with. His mother sleeping soundly, well as soundly as she had in almost a week, but that was the wonders of modern day medics, they could put the worst to sleep in less than half an hour if they tried hard enough.

It was awkward, to stand here in watch his mother like this...

All hook up to machines, an IV and breathing machine hook up to her, the nurses having to sedate her twice since they arrived at the hospital late last night, being moved from a regular hospital room to the PICU - so they could keep a closer eye on her, make sure she didn't do anything. They called it a harsh case of depression, harsh wasn't the start of it - since that Adam Dodd had visited them, everything seemed to go downhill from there. It was mostly crying at first, carrying that small book - had Adam called it a journal? - Everywhere, she had locked herself in her room after a few days and just cried - his father trying everything, but she just continued to cry.

It wasn't until last night that things had taken a true turn for the worse...

It had to have been close to eleven when it had happened, Edgar sitting up and playing one of his games, as summer break had came and he was trying to get the most out of it as he could before he had to start high school - a grade higher than his friends, and in a newer school, the combination of a Catholic school his parents wanted him to attend, and another school they didn't know much about. Though from what he had heard hadn't been the best of places to attended...

It was around that time that he had heard something shatter, his dad yelling and something he had grown used to - his mother crying, though it wasn't till his dad called out for him that he figured something might be wrong, as he hopped up from his spot on the floor of his room to rush into the living room to find one of the lamps broken, and his mum's hand bloody, still using her arm to tightly clutched that book to her chest as his dad was trying to get her on her feet.

Things just seemed to get force when they got to the hospital, he wasn't allowed in the room for a long while - waiting out in the waiting room, but even there Edgar could hear her screaming, causing the young teen to slowly try and block it all out and focus on his thoughts, and too what caused all this - and memories of that visit six days ago where renewed fresh in his mind.

"It's both of their faults that this happened... if he had never came, if he hadn't talked to you... this... this wouldn't have happened." He found himself muttering to his sleeping mother, caring less if the woman was able to hear him or not - though the tears that he tried to rub away spoke different, choking out a single phrase between the tears.

"... It's all their fault."

July 16, 2005
Centre for Addiction and Mental Health
Toronto, Canada

Adam Dodd sat at a small white table, surrounded by a room of crazy people.

To him, it wasn't all that surprising, that his comfort level now was incredibly low. As a matter of fact, he wanted to bolt right out of the room, this very second. Of course, that was impossible. Mental institutions weren't places that people wanted to be in, and Adam Dodd was undoubtedly no exception. Unfortunately for him, he had to be here, and there was no way around it.

It had been just over two weeks since Adam had returned from Survival of the Fittest, and it had been a whirlwind two weeks. After getting out of the hospital, he'd payed visits to both the houses of Madelaine Shirohara and one Lillian Judah, the biological birth mother of Hawley Faust. Adam had felt that he owed it to his two close friends to fulfill the promises that he made to them when they'd been on the island. The visits had been emotional and taxing, but in the end he was glad that he'd made them. He'd also tried to contact Steven Jones, the former VP of the United States, but the man had just about gone into hiding after the death of his daughter, Amanda. Prior to his visits, he'd visited the police and given official statements to them; being punched out by the unstable police-officer father of the late Jacob Starr. Adam had declined to press charges, knowing that the man was undoubtedly not in his right mind. Time had passed, and the ending of Survival of the Fittest had aired on television like Danya had promised, a day that Adam had tried to make himself as scarce as possible.

After that day, the phone calls had begun to pour in, from every major media outlet and talk show host in the United States of America. Everyone from CNN to Dr. Phil had wanted to speak to the winner and only survivor of the worst terrorist attack in United States history. Adam had denied almost each and every single one of them. So many of them had been like rabid dogs, trying to score what the newspapers were labeling 'the interview of the decade'. More than anything, it saddened Adam a little bit. Instead of mourning, the media was jumping all over it, glorifying it in a way that they hadn't even come close to doing to 9/11. It had sickened him. In the end, he'd actually sought out one of the few talk shows that hadn't asked him for an interview, and made it very clear that he'd like to do an interview for them and them only. The talk show had been that of Ellen Degeneres, a female comedian who Adam had always enjoyed and found amusing, and at the same time admired her 'real-ness'. The interview had gone quite well, and Ellen had made Adam feel very comfortable and had empathized with him quite a bit. The interview had gone on to be the highest segment in the new millennium when the majority of the country tuned in to watch what Adam had to say.

He'd primarily spoken of his dead friends, and had used the time to let the world know just how much his friends had meant to him. He'd detailed some of his time on the island, and had made sure to strike the point home that SOTF was not something that should be glorified. After the interview, the New York Times had blasted many of the major media outlets for their near-blasphemous coverage of SOTF as a reality television show, instead of a major terrorist attack. Much of the world's outlook on SOTF changed very quickly thereafter.

So as Adam Dodd sat in a mental institution; the white walls causing his pupils to dilate because of their brightness, he thought of all that had come and gone. He'd had such an eventful life, and in such a short span of a time. It almost seemed like he'd lived more life than a lot of sixty-year olds had, and that was a fact that he almost couldn't believe. The initial shock had worn off, but Adam was still haunted by the incident. The nightmares were a constant thing for Adam, who was a person who'd ceased having nightmares when he was six years old. They were awful, and sometimes he awoke not knowing if he was still on that dreadful island or not. There were days that he felt detached from everyone, and he startled quite easily, at every little noise. Gunshots would cause him to become a mess, shaking and quivering with no stop to it. The doctors had diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder, and he was being actively treated for it, but it didn't make the life after SOTF any easier to deal with. His emotions had returned to him, along with his sarcastic sense of humour, and while he was becoming adept at masking his bad feelings and coming off as reasonably well-adjusted considering his circumstances, everyone who knew him well knew that he was having a hard time.

Adam's time on the island had led to a lot of thinking on his behalf - both about how he would survive, his life before, and potential life after the island. A lot of that thinking had made way to a list of things that Adam had promised himself that he would do before it was too late - meaning before anything were to happen.

If there's one thing that I do know, it's that life is short. Things happen at the worst fucking moments, and things get taken away from us with absolutely no warning at all. It's fucked up. It really is. It's a damn shame that there are people like bin Laden, Hussein, and Danya out there who think that it's just their business to play God. These fuckers really have no idea how their actions are impacting other people. Well... either they don't know, or they don't give a shit. People say that there is a hope for concepts like world peace... but I don't think there is. Maybe that's a 'glass-is-half-empty' way to look at things, but as long as you have people like Danya out there somewhere, that concept will not hold. When Danya dies out, there'll just be another like him, somewhere in the world. It's a shitty cycle, but it's the truth, and it's tragic. They say that the United States Marine Corps are searching for that island, so that they can go and hunt for any clue to whom or what Danya is. Well, that and so they can bring home the bodies of all of my peers for their loved ones to grieve over. Truthfully, I don't think that they'll ever find it. I really don't. Danya picked a place that isn't easily found - he's a smart son of a bitch, and what's scary is that he's still out there. The odds are, he'll do it again. I've told them as much. They didn't say it outright, but I think they're inclined to agree. Nobody knows where he went, or even where he's from, and all that I know is that he looks like a fat Christopher Walken who isn't half as funny or charismatic as the man himself. It was actually Walken himself who said that "at its best, life is completely unpredictable". Well, he's right. But when life is at its best, or its worst, you never know what's going to happen. So you've got to seize hold of all the time that you think you have, and make use of it to the best of your potential. At least I know that now. Making a list of things that I was obligated to do was a good idea, and it's helped me get over what SOTF did to me in a lot of ways. I guess that this... this is the last item on the list, and frankly, it's the hardest one for me to do...

Adam's eyes perked up as he saw a woman walk towards him from the other side of the room. Exhaling sharply, Adam quickly rose from the table and looked towards her with a look chock full of nervous energy. The woman was a nurse at this mental institution, and she nodded to Adam as she stood in front of him.

"He'll see you now, Adam."

Adam grimaced a little, but knew immediately why he wasn't with the nurse.

"Not here?"

She shook her head. "No."

Adam sighed a little bit, and stood up, wincing a little, as his body was still slightly bruised from his experience. Some of the tendons in his knees had been damaged from all of the running he'd done, and he was occasionally wearing knee-braces to curb the pain. Unfortunately for Adam, he wasn't currently wearing them. Straightening out, he nodded to the nurse, who began to walk through the room back in the direction from where she'd come. Adam followed her, thankful to get out of the room full of crazy people. As he followed her through the narrow corridors of the hospital, he felt a growing sense of unease. Adam didn't like to be kept under lock and key under any circumstances (a residual affect of SOTF and its explosive collars), and every second he spent in this institution was another second he wondered if he'd be progressing more towards insanity than mental health. As he followed the woman through another set of doors, he almost wondered if she was taking Adam to meet with him after all. Perhaps there was another sinister plan at work, here. Perhaps Danya had returned, and gotten to him after all...

No, Adam. Danya doesn't give a shit about you, anymore. He's too busy fellating his dog or whatever stupid thing the criminally insane do for fun. You have to stop thinking about that fucker. You have him a parting gift to remember you by, so even if you don't remember him - he's gonna have a souvenir to remember you.

He'd thought that for a split-second when he'd returned home, and the thought had been terrifying to him; thinking that Danya may have had his family. Of course, as it had turned out, his dad had simply been out for beer, but regardless... it was a frightening thought.

Finally, the nurse stood in front of a door that was marked 'conference room'. Adam raised his eyebrow, as he didn't anticipate having his meeting here. He supposed, though, it made sense, to get him away from all of the crazies who lived in this place. Sighing, he straightened out his blue sweatshirt and brushed off some dust from the arm of his shirt. Fidgeting with the 'VISITOR' pass around his neck, Adam looked at the nurse.

"He's inside."

"Thanks, I'll... I just need a second."

She smiled at him with a knowing smile.

"I understand, take your time."

Grimacing, Adam knew that he could not turn away. This was the last item on the list of things that he'd promised himself that he would do, and to turn away now would mean that Danya had won. Survival of the Fittest had taken away the fear of death from Adam Dodd, simply because he'd felt it so often and so hard that after a while, he became dulled to it. So it felt odd that now, here he stood, afraid of a simple door.

It's a door. What do you have to lose? You've already lost most of the things you treasured in life, anyways. It's only upwards from here, motherfucker.

Nodding to himself, Adam grasped the doorknob and tossed the door open without leaving himself any time to stop.

The conference room resembled every other conference room that Adam had ever seen, on television, in movies, and in buildings all over the place. The ornate table sat in the middle of the room, having a black glass surface and reminding him a little bit of the conference table from Star Trek: the Next Generation. The chairs were a cushioned red, and the blinds were drawn but allowed lots of light to sneak into the room, giving the room a hazy, surreal effect to it. The walls still bore the sanitary white of the rest of the hospital, and aside from the windows which gave way to a beautiful view of some trees and a pond behind the hospital, there wasn't much to look at in the room. It was the occupant of the room, though, who drew Adam's attention, and as he looked at the kid sitting in the chair at the far end of the conference table, he was amazed at how different he looked since the last time he'd seen him.

Luke Dodd had taken a growth spurt at a very young age, and so when he turned fourteen, he was already standing at a height of six feet, one inch, and due to his medical issues (depression), he had developed horrible eating habits and had put on quite a bit of weight, weighing almost four hundred pounds since Adam had seen him last. He hadn't spoken or seen with his brother in about a year or so, since the 'incident', and to see him today, Luke looked a LOT different. Clad in the pale blue clothes that all of the patients in the hospital were in, Luke still looked tall, but his body shape had completely changed. It looked like he'd dropped almost two hundred pounds, and he now looked to have a similar body type to what Adam had - not lean, but not obese, either. His hair was no longer dyed, and yet in the same length that he'd kept it before, now having a long blonde ponytail. He still had no discernable facial hair, but had the same blue eyes that sparked with intelligence and a mischievous streak like no other. He wore an expression on his face that seemed to combine sadness and hope. He was undoubtedly not the same person that Adam had lived with a year or so before. As Adam shut the door to the room, he turned around and looked at his brother, not saying a single word. In fact, Luke beat him to it.

"Adam... wait. Don't say anything. I know you've probably got a lot of anger pent-up inside of you, and I need to say something to you first, before you say whatever it is you need to say." Luke scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat a little, as though he'd practiced saying his a thousand times over.

"That day, Adam... I don't remember a thing. I don't remember it at all, but they've told me... the things that I said, what I did... I don't know why those hateful words came out of my mouth. I'd take every single one of them back if I could. You weren't a bad brother, you were far from it. You and I had such good times when we were kids, and I treasured all of those moments. The truth is, I looked up to you a lot when I was younger. Hell, I still do. I know you're probably feeling a lot of resentment from what happened, and I get that. I really do. I just... I need to tell you how fucking sorry I am, Adam. My God, I'm so sorry. I wish that they'd never put me on those fucking pills... "

Adam looked at his brother and stayed silent. Luke continued.

"Now... I've heard what happened to you just recently. I don't know specifics, because they won't let us watch the news or read the newspaper in here - which frankly, is a fucking pain in the ass. But all that I know, Adam... is that whatever you've been through and whomever you've lost...you just need to remember that you're a stand-up guy. People have liked you since you were a little kid, and people have supported you every single step of the way. You're always the one who's lightening people up, cheering people up. Hell, how many times did you brighten everyone up around the house? From Mom and Dad's phone calls, from what they've told me... Adam, I know it's going to be hard, but you need to leave it all behind. You need to let it all out. They tell me that you've been almost emotionless at times. You can't do that to yourself, Adam. I did that to myself for a month after ... well, after what happened. It almost tore me apart. Even if you leave here, and you and I don't talk anymore... I just want you to know that no matter what, I support you, and I love you. I always have, and I always will. No matter what happens, you'll always be my brother, and I'll always stand by you."

Adam looked at his brother very carefully as he spoke, studying him. Luke was undoubtedly sincere, and what had happened between the two of them had obviously taken its toll upon Luke as well. Their relationship had frayed to this point, and Adam knew that this was likely the turning point to where his relationship with his brother would go. He found himself remembering back to when he had been talking with Hawley, back on the island, which never seemed far from his thoughts.

Whenever we goto visit, I...I can't bring myself to go. I just can't. The things he said, what he did...I never could bring myself to go and visit him, to forgive him for what he did."

A single tear rolled down Adam's cheek, which he quickly wiped away and looked at the ground. His voice, which had been shaky up to now, hardened suddenly.

"But I guess it looks like I never will, and because of my selfishness, my poor brother will never be able to know that I do forgive him for what he did."

Adam spit into the dirt, and then said nothing more.

Thinking back to that very conversation, all rational thought seemed to fly out of the window. All that he could think about was that one moment, speaking with Hawley and speaking those words. His eyes teared up and he slowly stood up and walked towards his brother, who also stood up.

Adam Dodd had held it all in, for so long. Ever since he'd awoken on the sidewalk at Barry Coleson High School, he'd vowed that he would keep his emotions in check, and be the strong one through the ordeal. He had told himself that he would not, under any circumstances, let himself break down.

Without any warning, Adam grabbed his brother by the shoulders and looked right into his eyes. Luke had a surprised expression on his face, and he would admit later that he thought that Adam was going to hit him. Instead, a tear ran down his face and he finally got off his chest what he'd been waiting almost a year to tell his brother.

"Fucking hell, Luke... I'm so fucking sorry... my god, I forgive you, man... how can I not? You're my brother... "

As he hugged his brother close, feeling safe for the first time since before the fateful trip, the tears began to roll freely down his face. Six days after he returned from Survival of the Fittest at its only survivor, Adam Dodd broke down and finally began to cry the tears of everyone who had died so that he alone could escape.

Adam knew that he would never forget any of them, especially his closest friends who had perished - Hawley, Amanda, Madelaine, David, and Andrew Lipson. Each one of them, they had lived in a nightmare and it had ended up killing them all.

On July 16th, 2005, for Adam Dodd... the nightmare was finally over.

Just like a rescue of a stray dog in the rain I was
Hungry when you found me
And you could tell by my tail and my rib cage what was
Once around me

I've been chased by a rain cloud
I was lost and nearly drowned and kicked around
But now I'm found and I won't run away

Bless your heart you gave me a home and a new start
And I will leave you never
Sleep at your feet and stay guard at you're front door
I will keep things together

I've been chased by a rain cloud
I was lost and nearly drowned and kicked around
But now I'm found and I won't run away

I killed myself, threw away my mental health but nobody was blinking an eye
Backyard, basement, falling on the pavement
Nothing Left to Say But Goodbye
Nothing Left to Say But Goodbye

It's true I ran away before but be sure
I am no tail-chaser
I know a good thing when it throws me a bone
I'm you're best friend forever

I've been chased by a rain cloud
I was lost and nearly drowned and kicked around
But now I'm found and I won't run away

I killed myself, threw away my mental health but nobody was blinking an eye
Backyard, basement, falling on the pavement
Nothing Left to Say But Goodbye

Nothing Left to Say But Goodbye

THE END

Thanks:

Well, folks, it's been a long (really fucking long) road to the end, but this is finally it. SOTF V1 has come to an end. I'm sure that a lot of us have sort of mixed feelings about the whole thing, but most of us are glad to see it go. This obscenely long document is what I feel does justice to as much of V1 as I could - mainly I tried to tie up as many loose ends in the story as I possibly could - right down to some character stuff for Adam (well, mostly character stuff for Adam) to some other small mysteries like 'who was the kid on the plane who got shot' and other little things like that.

I truly hope that you all enjoy(ed) Endgame, because I DID work my ass off on it, if nothing else. If you don't feel like reading the whole thing - I'd recommend, at least skim through it. Because of how long and how much effort that I put into this, it would mean a lot to me if you at least read it. Even if you didn't follow V1, if you hated Adam Dodd, or whatever. It would just mean a lot to me as a person if you would all read it and tell me what you think.

I know not everyone's going to like it, and I respect that. I just hope that the majority will enjoy it.

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't have some people that I needed to thank, because without them, I'd probably still be working on it.

Firstly, I'd like to thank the original handlers who RPed with the characters that were in Endgame - mainly guitarjack and another handler who doesn't want to be named or thanked...*shrug* Why, I don't know, but I guess that's his choice, for whatever reason. But many thanks to guitarjack for creating the character that became the most hated V1er.

I'd also like to thank Megami for helping out once the activity level dropped a bit, she was a huge help in getting it off the forum and onto my word document, where it stayed for what seemed like forever…

I'd like to thank the artists whose music I blatantly stole during Endgame - primarily Three Days Grace, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Barenaked Ladies, Lazlo Bane, and of course, Audioslave.

I'd also like to thank the three who helped out with the actual ending portions of it. Firstly, Slacker, who helped out when it came time to write Danya's part (who I was admittedly a little stuck on). Your help was quite appreciated.

Riserugu, thank you very much for your work on one of the scenes that we wrote. It turned out well and I'm very glad that you were able to help out with it. It seems fitting that you were one of the people I RPed with most and I'm glad I could share it with you and tie up Hawley's storyline in a way that would do him justice.

Finally, LadyMakaze, who helped me a shitload with the motivation part of it, along with helping get it off the forum and onto the Word document as well. She ALSO helped by helping write a scene for me - which is frankly a really nice deviation from my style of writing. I still maintain she's one of the best writers on here. Aside from Riser. But anyway...

One last thing - I'd like to thank everyone for waiting patiently for me to get this done. I know it's been a real pain in the ass waiting for this to get done, and wanting V2 to start, and whatnot. It's been tedious, but I REALLY appreciate you all bearing with me while I worked on this hellaciously long piece of writing.

So there you have it, guys. V1 is officially over, and we can fully move on to V2. Hopefully V2 will prove to be as interesting as we all found V1 to be, and more! Oh, and one last note: after approximately a year and a half or more playing Adam Dodd, I can say this: that is SO it for him. Game over, man. Game over.

2018 Addendum: You lie, 2006 Dodd. You weren't finished with him at all! J'accuse!