Survival Of The Fittest

Connor Lorenzen sat in the grass, legs extended in front of him, intently studying a small tuft of weeds that spurted from the middle of a small patch of dead grass. Absently, he used the knife on the multitool to pick at the dead areas around the growth. Stabbing out the decay from the ground, he picked intently at what looked to be a gnarled root. It wasn't strong by any stretch, so with a little bit of pressure, the root came loose, coming out of the ground in front of him and spreading all of the way to where the green grass came alive once more.

For the moment, he empathised with that one, persevering splash of green.

((CONNOR LORENZEN V7 START))

None of it seemed real in his eyes, and so it felt like an annoyance; an inconvenient distraction rather than a horrific, life-or-death struggle. He'd watched it all, disaffected at the entire ordeal. The awful visuals, the recollection of who the men standing at the front of the room were. When all hundred-and-fifty-plus of them had watched Ms. Garcia be executed with as much prejudice as the evil men could muster, he barely felt the fear at all.

It was there, no doubt at all. He'd be a monster were he not afraid of what all of this meant. There would be something seriously wrong with him if he didn't believe that this was easily the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He did, he recognized that. Nobody escaped from Survival of the Fittest. On face value, each and every one of them were doomed to die here, save one. No one had escaped from this hell in more than ten years, and Connor had heard the reports. No one was coming to save them.

No one was coming to save them, anyways.

Thinking back to his conversation with Erika only the night before, Connor actually smiled. He felt chagrined. Fate had taken his words, turned around, and said 'oh, yeah?' You want to make your own way, Connor? Be your own man? You want to help people around you? Well, how about you deal with the most horrific terrorist group in the history of the world kidnapping your class. How about you deal with that?

Connor jabbed the ground with the multitool again.

He didn't know how he'd deal with that. What he was certain of, though, was how his parents would deal with that. His father would make a big stink, of course. He'd hire any and all news media that he could, call a press conference before anyone was ready to truly judge that they were kidnapped. He'd rant and rave, and then he'd try and buy them off.

The United States always said that they wouldn't negotiate with terrorists, but Steven Lorenzen considered himself bigger than that.

"Whatever it'd take, huh pop?"

So that was it, then. Steven Lorenzen had more money than he'd ever even admit to anyone. Oil was a profitable business, and what would a major terrorist organization do with all kinds of limitless resources - in exchange for one lousy kid? Connor felt awful, but he knew exactly what he had to do from here on out.

For as long as possible, he had to stay alive.

He knew that there was a delay on the broadcast. Connor had heard the impassioned cries of parents who wanted their kids back, only to realize that they'd died long before their fates were ever made public. So even if his father put it together, which he undoubtedly would rather quickly, it would still take, what - days? Two or three? All he had to do was hold out for two or three days, and eventually the terrorists would come, collect him, and trade him for all of the money in the world.

For a second, he felt guilty about it. Felt bad for Wyatt, for Madison. Bret and Tyrell. Erika, whom he'd just truly gotten to know only a day prior. He felt bad for Jeff, for Ace, for the guys on the football team and the cheerleading squad. His heart ached for all of them; even the ones he had no time for - Ivy, and even Lorenzo; the reprehensible rapist himself.

None of them deserved their fate. He would mourn them, once he was home and he was able to. But until then, he would play along. Play fate's game. His luck hadn't been all bad, he mused as he folded the knife up on the multitool. This was at least something that was useful, that he could defend himself with.

The only other thing he had to play with were his wits. As he sat in the grass, Connor Lorenzen gathered that for now, it would be enough.

Ohhhhh shit. Ohhhhh fuck.

[B081 - Mike Brown START]

Mike was walking. Walking was easy, easy to just go 'round, stroll around, do things, wherever you went. Walking meant there were feet on the ground, keeping you moving, keeping you going. Walking meant that you weren’t thinking, ‘bout those things that went bump in the night, your greatest fears, or the fact that some terrorists and shit were forcing you to kill all y’all friends or be killed. Nothing was going great about that. Not one bit.

‘Sides, being out in the green was meant to help clear your mind, nature working it’s hocus pocus or whatever as you basked in the sun. If there was magic here, it certainly wasn’t any good one, but Mike would’ve also had to confess he didn’t know ay sorta shit about magic, so yeah. Whatever.

Either way, he was still here, still walking, air horn in hand, feet moving one in front of the other through the woods. One, two, one, two. It was a rhythm, a steady beat, not ceasing or slowing. It was just like practice, one after the other, all these parts coming together like one great big puzzle. It was a song, the sound of his sneakers impacting the path. There was a beat, bringing him forward, a constant steady one.

Worst thing was, though, he couldn’t decide whether this was the tune to a war song or a funeral hymn.

He gripped onto both the duffle bags hanging ’round his shoulders, trying to support their weight with his own arms. He’d woken up on sand, sun looking him straight in the face, and’d been real cool. No fuss, no muss, just got his things, packed up, and left, like that. Naw, there definitely was no crying, no matter how red his eyes were. Definitely hadn’t acted like a dumbass and a wuss.

Mike continued going on that route, trying to avoid any brambles, bushes, bodies-

Oh, shit. Landed on that topic again. The thing was, Mike was trying real hard to swerve around that thing, avoid remembering the fact that he saw Ms. G's dead body, blood pooling around her like some sick sorta puddle, but now that his brain had decided to go there, it was stuck there, like a little thing that just refused to get out. Stuck, squirming, just sitting there, and it hurt. Hurt a lot, but he could do this, he was strong, but really?

In his heart of hearts, bless his soul, mike knew that he wasn't gonna make it. Real smart people out there, real tough people, people who'd been through shit and got out okay. What did he have going for him? Being the fricking relief pitcher? Wasn't a whole lot of prestige there, even if he still loved going out onto the field. Maybe he wasn't exactly the brightest of people, maybe he still had no sense of direction (and he was pretty sure all this wilderness was a circle or something), but he could tell basic stuff. He knew basic facts. Like, the fact that he had next to no shot in hell coming up and doing something here in this-thang. Wasn't a game. Games didn't end with friends dying.

Someone'd have to know what to do, though, just not him.

The guy sitting just a ways off the path, picking at some leafy shit would, right?

Connor was literally Prom King, after all, and maybe that was kinda stupid, but he was one of the jocks around who wasn't an idiot, and was nice too, prolly a bit too nice, if he kept on keeping on with Madi-

Wasn't the time to judge, though. Now was the time to find someone else to do something.

"Hi?" A wave, and a reluctant question. His voice came out reedy, uncertain, just as if he was still eleven and his balls hadn't dropped yet. Real great job. He would've smiled, tried to give some kind of lightening up, but this was way too much of a bummer to do something like that, so instead he walked just a bit closer, neither smiling nor frowning.

"Shit's pretty fucked, ain't it?"

"Fucked," Connor looked up from his place on the ground, "ain't even the half of it."

The quarterback didn't make a move to get up from the ground. Instead, he still sat, legs outstretched, tapping the multitool against his hand as though he were listening to some sort of song that only he could hear. In the most awful of situations, anyone out there could have been the method of his own deliverance. Any of his pals, any of his teammates could have been the ones who decided to take him out. Had it been someone like Jeff Greene in front of him, Connor might have reacted differently.

But Mike Brown? Not a chance. Mike Brown was more liable to step on a snail after a rain shower and spend the next twenty minutes apologizing to it. He was a flaccid example of a human, someone that he didn't think would be anything more than a blubbering mess in a situation like this. He was a nice enough guy, but nice didn't count for much when it came to life and death. In life, people were one of two things - there were leaders and there were followers.

Mike Brown was a follower, through and through. Being a follower, he'd stumble around without a purpose until he found a leader to tell him what to do.

Now being a leader? That was something that Connor knew how to do.

Sighing, he took a look up at the trees that seemed to surround them from every direction. In a different situation, this wouldn't have been a bad way to spend an afternoon. It was warm, and if he shut his eyes and let his mind wander, he could have imagined that he was on vacation. But now was not the time for that. If he didn't play his cards right, he would never again have a chance for that.

"We're all in some real trouble, Mike. Y'all know it's probably safer to stick together." He gestured to the trees. "Seems pretty easy to get lost in all this."

Connor made no move to get up. The drugs in his system had mostly worn off, but he still found himself strangely devoid of energy.

"How're you doin'? Still in one piece?"

He'd get up when he needed to, not a moment before. He tapped the multitool against his leg, now. It felt good, reminded him that he was still alive, that things needed to be done.

((B054 - Drew Woods - Start))

Drew was still in a dreamland thanks to the knock out gas and his body was feeling heavy. His stomach was feeling queasy but he didn't feel himself waking up in the grass somewhere. He could hear muffled voices but his eyelids were not forcing themselves open so he was stuck in his dream. Or was it a nightmare that he feared that he would never wake up from?

He did not know.

He felt a whimper escape from his mouth and he wanted someone - anyone - to wake him up from his nightmare.

((Matthew Hunt V7 START))

The first thing Matthew saw when he opened his eyes earlier was an immensely bright light directly in front of him. Putting his hands over his eyes, he rolled over onto his chest and face before he opened his mouth to yawn.

And got some grass in his mouth when he closed it.

That got him to wake up a bit as he spat it out. Lying on the dirt wasn't exactly his cup of tea. Hell, he didn't like sleeping outside in general, much less without a mattress, blanket, or even a pillow.

So yeah, that’s a way to start this fucking nightmare.

It took him a few minutes for him to even wrap his head around the situation. It was happening. It was fucking happening. Survival of the Fittest. Deaths all around, fun for the whole family. Unless their children happened to be on it.

Right now, he was carrying his organization-provided duffel bag and a big umbrella. He didn’t exactly know what to expect, but there it is.

As he was walking for who knows how long, he saw two guys some ways, one of them sitting. He didn’t even know the name of the guy sitting by the tree, but he at least knew Mike Brown. He was nice, but he wouldn’t exactly rely on him for schoolwork.

Hmm, talk to a guy who I don’t know and a guy who isn’t reliable, or try to go at it alone...

Well, I should at least try to see what that one guy is like, at least.

He then walked towards them, keeping some distance away so he wouldn’t make them nervous.

“So, have we gotten started writing our wills?”

[G43 - Regina Petrov Game Start]


Her mind was spinning, and for some reason she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Ever since she awoke her mind just kept replaying that horrible scene on a loop. Vice Principal Garcia, shot in the back on the head, her body laying limp and unmoving on the ground while the man who’s committed the horrible deed continued to talk as if he’d done nothing. It was awful. She felt like she could still smell the stench of the blood. Regina reached up to wipe the loose tears that fell from her eyes. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. She had to be as brave as she could. Now more than ever.

Her booties slipped a bit on a patch of grass as she made her way through the woods and fell against a tree to catch herself. She sighed heavily. Sure, it was just a small thing, but everything felt so heavy now. She tentatively reached a hand up to softly caress the metal wrapped snugly around her neck. It was ice cold to the touch, and feeling it there sent a shiver down her spine. This was all really happening. There was absolutely no denying that now. Terrorists had taken them and trapped them somewhere to watch them all die.

Another tear slipped out and down her cheek.

Adonis, Camille, Lucas, Valerija, Caroline, Abel, and everyone else they went to school with was going to die here on this island. It felt like she was punched in the gut when she really thought about it like that. These people she’d known most of her life, that she grew up with, that she went through all those good and bad times with… None of it mattered anymore because all but one of them was going to meet their inevitable death here and nothing was coming to save them. Regina pushed herself off the tree and stood herself back up. She adjusted the duffel bag on her shoulder.

She’d barely peeked inside it when she awoke, finding nothing resembling any kind of weapon inside. One part of her was happy about that. No weapon meant she didn’t have to deal with the idea of hurting someone. The other part of her felt frightened. That also meant she had nothing to defend herself with. The only thing inside that bag that wasn’t supplies was a stupid Halloween mask of the president, which she’d promptly tossed into the trees and marched away from. She didn’t need anything stupid like that. She just needed to find some people.

If she could find some of her classmates then maybe she could find some peace of mind as well. At least as much as she could have in this situation.

She continued her walk through the trees, listening intently for any sign of other people. She stopped for a moment and hesitated. What if people were already attacking each other?

NO!

She looked forward with conviction. She had to think positive. If she let herself fall into despair this early she’d never survive! And she planned on surviving! She just needed to find some people and figure out a plan. Filled with a renewed vigor she marched forward with purpose.

Minutes passed like hours as she continued her search for any signs of life. A bit of her go-getter attitude had slipped in the loneliness. All of a sudden she heard a sound. It was faint but it sounded like people talking. She quickly moved towards the sound, desperately trying to find it’s source. She stumbled through some trees and before she knew it she was standing in front of three boys from her school.

The first she recognized immediately. Connor Lorenzon, quarterback and prom king. It was hard not to recognize that imposing figure. The next boy was someone she knew in passing. Mike Brown she was pretty sure. They’d had a class together here and there but she didn’t know him well. And last but certainly not least was Matt Hunt. She smiled happily when she saw his face. They were friends in school, not particularly close, but friends nonetheless. It was good to see a familiar and friendly face.

Suddenly she realized all three were staring at her and she felt a wave of sheepishness wash over her. She held up her hands in a disarming way and laughed awkwardly.

“Hey, guys. Sorry to just pop out of nowhere.”

Mike shrugged. Was the easiest thing to do here, to do now, considering everything was really just going to hell in a handbasket.

" 'M aight, I guess..." He began, but trailed off soon after.

What was there to add, really? They were still here, they were still stuck, they were forced to kill each other. Nothing had changed about that in the least few seconds, and maybe the silence he could just slip in to, listlessly floating away like a log on the river. Just go, yeah, just not be here anymore, let everything pass over. Wasn't that he didn't want to care, 'cause he did, he really did, wanted to help the people e liked, find a way out, but putting everything in? Putting it all out there?

That was the most terrifying bit.

Still, Connor did seem like a big man with a plan, which meant that someone had drive, which was good. He could just be a passenger, taken for a ride, was all fine with him. If he didn't have nothing to contribute, Connor evidently did, which made sense 'cause he was a quarterback, and they were in charge of all that planning stuff. Right? Eh, sounded right. Anyways, he had something to say, and that was more than Mike had, so he let him have at it. He fiddled with his wristbands, more out of a nervous habit than anything else.

Maybe there was something he could've added, something more to seem like less of an idiot, but then, Matt Hunt pulled over. Matt was cool, for the most part, kinda snarky, a bit too much for Mike's taste, but yeah. Alright. Didn't know if the joke about wills landed, but it was something to keep his mind off of everything. Something to keep some kinda time rolling.

Right behind was a lady - Gina? Something like that, yeah. He sorta knew her, here and there, a heyo in the hallways, but not much more. Never much need to, before this.

He smiled at the newcomer, arms open to show that he meant no harm. "No problem, dude. We just here discussin' our wills, ya know." Mike raised his eyebrow, just a tiny bit. "Regular, everyday kinda stuff."

So Mike Brown was scared; Connor almost smiled at the thought. Not at Mike's fear, of course. Goodness, he wouldn't begrudge anyone for being afraid right now. The fact that any of them were able to keep it together at all was a minor miracle. No, Mike's fear indicated to Connor that he hadn't lost his senses - he was still thinking like a regular person, like the person that he'd been in school. His plan would be a lot easier to bring to fruition if he had someone else who was fully behind it; Mike could very well have been that person. Tapping his multitool once more, Connor glanced behind Mike as some new arrivals filtered into the area. The first was a heavyset boy that Connor didn't know. He bust onto the scene with a grim quip, which told Connor a lot - gallows humour was a defense mechanism and this boy was obviously clinging to it.

Finally, Regina Petrov burst out of the woods, giving Connor another reason to smile; this time instead of hiding it, he did. Perfect. There could not have been a better set of people to collect in a situation like this. Regina was a helper, the kind of person who was almost always looking to do what was right, what was proper. If there was a bake sale or a dance that needed someone to help out with, you knew you'd see Regina there. Provided the weight of their circumstances hadn't crushed her entirely, she would be an asset he could use as well.

"Now c'mon y'all," Connor turned the charm up a notch as he slowly rose to his feet, "let's not put us in the dirt before the fat lady's even had a chance to warm up."

Now standing at his full 6'5", Connor had a bit better idea of the layout of the area than he had from his seated vantage. Slipping the multitool into the pocket of his jeans, he made a show of taking a deep breath and mustering a warm smile for everyone around him.

"I'm glad to see everyone's in one piece. We've got about a thousand things that can go wrong right now, so that we're all still standin', that's definitely somethin' we can't forget." Brushing his jeans off, he looked from person to person. Thinking for a moment, he allowed the smile to fall.

Panic wouldn't do anyone any good, and if Connor was going to manage to institute his plan, he needed to get everyone on the same page. He was good at motivating on the football field, but this wasn't any field he'd ever been on before. For all intents and purposes, it was a battlefield; Connor wasn't a field general anymore - he was a real general.

So it was time to rally the troops.

"Look, guys. I'm no fool. I know the score, I know how this goes. We're in some real trouble right now." Connor glanced all of them, pacing a little as he spoke.

"I'll be honest with y'all. I'm scared. I'm scared shitless. But I reckon if we stay together, we're far stronger than we would be if we're apart." He furrowed his brow for a moment. "School was one thing, you know? We have our friends, our feuds... but you heard 'em. You might not even be able to trust your best friend anymore."

Faces flashed in his mind; Bret, Wyatt, Ace.

Madison. Poor, sweet Madison. Connor felt a twinge of regret. If this went the way he expected, the odds were high that he'd never see Madison again. He wished she could come with him; she deserved a chance to live. But he knew that the terrorists would never make that kind of exception.

"I'd like to trust all of you. We're all scared, but we're all in this together." He paused. "If we can stick together, stay alive - maybe we can figure a way out of this? People have done it before, right?"

Connor sighed, letting just a bit of his genuine fear show through in the form of uncertainty. He made a show of pushing it away.

"I sure don't want to kill anyone, and I can't think any of y'all do either." He held his hands out in front of him, the hopefulness genuine on a few different levels. "So what do you say, guys? Would y'all join my team?"

It was corny as fuck, Connor couldn't deny that, but he knew the image that he had. He was the prom king, the football captain, the quarterback. He had charisma and he knew that people gravitated towards him because of it. So in leaning into that image, he gathered that they might just follow him because of it. Forming a group would help him with his ultimate goal - sure, but it wasn't like it would do them any real harm, either. He'd be getting their minds off of imminent demise, and that had to count for something.

He could only hope.

Drew was trying to force himself out of a cold, cruel darkness and he felt his hands clawing at each other. His fingernails were digging into his skin, leaving some scratch marks on him and his nails has bits of tiny blood on them. Doing that seemed to have worked as Drew's eyes suddenly snapped open and he blinked a few times in confusion, feeling a little groggy.

He sat up slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. He felt something tightening in his chest and his breathing was starting to get a little heavy. He was starting to freak out because he was all alone and he had no idea what to do and he remembered the blood and.... and....

Where was he?

Where was he?!

WHERE WAS HE RIGHT NOW?!!!

Drew felt tears starting to fall as he grabbed the sides of his head with his hands and he let out a scared, loud howling scream.

"I DON'T WANNA DIE!! I DON'T WANNA DIE!!! HELP ME!!! PLEASE, HELP MEEEEEEE!!!"

Drew then curled up in an a feeble, weak-willed ball and he continued to sob like the scared kid he was.

Matthew couldn't help but smile when Regina entered his line of sight. So far, it seemed to be going relatively well for being on an island that's inevitably going to become littered with bodies. Maybe it won't be as bad today as he thought.

After...whats-his-face gave his speech, he snorted in amusement. Here he was, worrying about being alone for quite a while, and he got an offer to form a group. And it's all optimistic, the 'everybody is stronger if they stick together' spiel. Can't really deny that he's good at doing speeches on the spot, though.

He looked off to the side as he thought about it. Sure, being with a group is better than going it alone, but he didn't know anything about this guy. What if he turned out to be an asshole? What if he's willing to throw him under the bus to save his own skin? That said, Matthew would be with people he could trust and it would give him a chance to see what he's like...

...Oh, what the hell. He could ask the others for their opinion about him. However, he at least needed to get one thing.

"Sure," Matthew said, looking at him again, "that sounds like a good idea, but I honestly don't know a thing about you. Hell, I don't even know your name."

Soon afterwards, his eyes widened as he heard a loud scream and he almost immediately turned towards where he thought it came from. Was someone already being murdered?! They just got here!

"What the hell?!"

Regina smiled wryly at Mike’s comment. It was obviously a joke, and the fact that there were others who still retained their sense of humor in all of this awfulness warmed her heart just a bit. She hadn’t been wrong. There was a chance for them to beat this place. There had to be! She knew she just had to stay strong and keep moving forward. She couldn’t let the fear and despair take her over. If she did that…

No, she didn’t want to think about what that would mean.

Connor began to speak, standing up from his seated position, and Regina listened intently. He spoke in an uplifting way, but also rather bluntly. He was right, they were in a lot of trouble. This was a scary place to be, and they were all scared to death. If they couldn’t at least admit that much, then they probably wouldn’t survive for very long. Being scared was good. It meant they were still alive. Connor mentioned not being able to trust their friends and Regina felt a pang in her chest.

She couldn’t believe that. No.

She couldn’t believe that all the memories they all shared, all the times they were there for eachother and helped pull one another through the years had all been erased now that they were here. She couldn’t believe that any of her friends would be driven to the point where they were able to hurt one another. That’s where she drew her line in the sand. If she stopped believing in people then she may as well fling herself from the nearest cliff, because what was the point in trying to survive if she had to suspect everyone, even those she held dearest to her heart?

She smiled when Matthew confessed to not knowing who Connor was. That was fair, she thought. They may have all been classmates, but not all of them ran in the same crowds, or had classes together. They were a big school, after all.

“You’re right. I don’t want to kill anyone. I’d like to believe no one does. And Matthew has a point. We should probably properly introduce ourselves, just for clarifications sake.” She looked from one boy to the next as she spoke. They all seemed like good people. She wanted to believe she could trust them.

Then came the scream.

Regina turned her head from one side to the next, attempting in vain to locate where the voice was coming from. All of a sudden she felt very scared. Was someone being attacked? Where were they? Could they get to them in time? Even if they did, what could they do?

THERE’S NO TIME FOR THIS!

“Who’s there?! Are you okay?!” She shouted out to the woods without a second thought. If she could do even a little to help, then that’s what she would do.

So, yeah, Mike 'sposed he'd said his piece, his small, tiny piece of word space or something, and then Connor had stood up and began delivering this long, inspirational speech about how they all ought to work together, how they all ought to be careful 'bout who they trusted, and yeah, those were all good, valid points, especially coming from Connor. He was the leader man, with the leader plan, with all the leader-like ideas to go along with that, and he was taking charge. Cool, great, all those things, mmhmm.

He had nodded along with Connor's words, taking them in as he tried to avoid accidentally setting off the air horn with his limbs. He was still clinging to it, because why not, really, and it wasn't as if killing was exactly his plan for the next few days, because his plan was following...Connor, it seemed like. All type-A and coordinated and with his shit together, towering all over them just like that.

And okay, maybe he did kinda find it hot how he was taking charge all like that, but Connor was as straight as an arrow and like, this was not the place for that, so Mike was never gonna be caught dead saying those thoughts aloud. Or alive, really, 'cause he wasn't gonna be coming out of this place in anything except a body bag. Whatever, no one'd know anyways. Leadership just got a guy's engines revved up.

In this great big song, he was backup harmony, and maybe that's where he was destined to be. Or something. In any case, it was time for new thoughts and new actions.

Like a little snicker at Matt's remarks 'bout not knowing Connor, which was a pretty big social nah, really, but Connor'd probably explain himself. No need to do much of anything, all the need to just lay back and take it all in. "Yeah, we gotta pretty tight group here," he said, speaking in a tone that was pretty close to a verbal shrug. Small things, yeah, small things. Focus on groups, and not on death, and not on murder. Totally succeeding at that, and totally chilling.

Although the screaming coming from further in the woods caused him to almost to squeeze on the air horn. He didn't actually do it, thank the Lord, but Mike was pretty certain that'd only gain him the bad kinda attention, so he just stood there, while people screamed about helping who was out there, finding out what was going on, which yeah. Smart idea, good idea, all real agreeable-like.

He took a small, hesitant step forward, before motioning to the rest of the group, air horn-free hand used.

"Think that means we all go check it out?"

Throwing on an amused smile, Connor waved his hand in the heavyset boy's direction, dismissing any perceived slight.

"Aw, heck. Regina's right, it's a big school. My mistake; I'm Connor. Connor Lorenzen." He put his hand to his chest as he introduced himself.

"Y'all might have seen me on the football field," he was matter-of-fact, though internally he thought it absolutely ridiculous that this worm didn't know who he was. Had he been living under a rock for all of high school? Sure, there were a great many people in the school whose names Connor didn't know, but he felt like he was a bit of an exception to the rule. He was on almost all of the football posters, was all over the yearbook, and had been at the very center of the only real formal moment at prom.

Connor smiled at the boy; it was no wonder. There was no way this kid had gone to prom.

"I must apologize; I don't know your name, either. You are?"

He was about to say something more when a very loud scream thundered through the area. Someone was calling for help in the bushes ahead of them. His new companions all seemed uncertain what to do, some suggested helping, some seemed stuck with fear. The sound had sent a chill down Connor's spine, and investigating was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. However, the group had just decided to stay together, to follow his lead. To back off now would undermine everything that he hoped to accomplish in the coming days.

Puffing his shoulders out, Connor took a deep breath and headed towards the noise in the bushes. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he were faced with someone trying to do bodily harm to someone else, but he'd think of something. Maybe he'd try to talk them down. Maybe one of the others had something better than a multi-tool.

"Hey, are you okay? I'm coming to help you; it's Connor!"

The identification might mean nothing to the fatty, but to the majority of the rest of the school, it meant a lot, so that's what he lead with. He hoped the others would follow his lead, but that might have been hoping just a bit too much.

Drew was still a sobbing mess as he could hear voices calling out to him and he didn't know why he was yelling for help. He really wished that Declyn was here. Oh god. No, no, no! Declyn and his other friends was here too somewhere, weren't they? This couldn't be happening. Drew felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it and he was trying to calm himself down. He couldn't.

Someone was getting closer to where he was and he felt himself tensing up, feeling more afraid that he had managed to get other people's attention. But what if they were just pretending to be nice? And then stabbed him in the back? Drew knew that his imagination was going wild over having thoughts like that. It was not helping him in his situation at that moment.

Connor...?

WHO WAS CONNOR?!

Oh.... wait. Drew remembered. Connor had been the Prom King and a jock. But he wasn't one of those jerk jocks. He was a nice guy. At least, Drew hoped Connor wasn't going to pretend to help him out as a nice guy and turn out to be a bad person. He was still curled up in a ball with tears running down the side of his face, his breathing was getting heavier and heavier. He felt like he was about to pass out.

"I....I...."

Drew couldn't get any words out of his croaky mouth and he then saw someone appearing in his line of sight.

"Don't.... hurt me.... P-Please, please...!" He wailed in fear.

"No, we should just stand here and do nothing." he said sarcastically to Regina as he followed that football guy, Connor. Matthew raised his voice to make sure the guy ahead of him heard, "My name is Matthew, by the way!"

He wasn't sure whether Connor heard or not, but that doesn't matter. Right now, finding out just what the fuck was going on was more important. Soon enough, Matthew heard a new voice close to him. Slowing down, he saw that Connor stopped and was looking at Drew, who was curled up in a ball on the grass and crying his eyes out.

If he had to guess, it was that Drew had a little bit of a problem being here right now. Granted, Matthew had a bit of a reaction like that, but nowhere near this guy. It was probably going to take a bit to calm him down, but if he really wants to be alone, that's his business.

He set his umbrella down onto the grass and walked over to Drew.

"Should I find you a blanket? You seem pretty comfortable."