Survival Of The Fittest

"Happy birthday to me,

happy birthday to me,

happy birthday dear Lu-caaaaas,

happy birthday to meeeee."

[Lucas Diaz continued from Four Line Poem.]

It was maybe the saddest, most pathetic thing he had ever fucking done. After he left Thomas and the Cuck Gang and cried his piece and went through the woods and around the lake and waited for the night to fall and day to come and then dragged himself back up the waterfall, he realized just what special day it was, and that there was nobody around to celebrate it. Usually his birthday was a low-key kind of thing, just for family and a few friends. One time a few people from the Writing Club surprised him, and that was swell, but overall Lucas minded his own fucking business on his birthday. It was the one day he could do whatever he wanted and not feel guilty, so he usually just stayed indoors. There was nothing wrong with that. Of course, now he was having to deal with the fact that he couldn't spend it indoors without maybe being killed, or outdoors for that matter, and that wasn't fun, but if Lucas wanted to feel kind of normal after all that had happened—and he did, naturally—then this was a good first step.

He was sitting under a tree-bush-thing near the edge of the waterfall, feet dangling off above the drop, kept dry from the rain. He didn't intend to fall over this time. Knock on wood he wouldn't. Superstitions were for idiots, but that was one he kept himself to. Lucas wasn't afraid that there was a little bit of idiot in him after all. It was what made him, him. And that was still a detestable person, a really dispicable one, one that would really do better as a stain on the water below except for that it would be unsightly were he to do that, but he had a goal. And once Lucas got started on a goal, nothing else mattered. Nothing except wishing himself a happy birthday. When was Desiree's birthday? He got the vague impression that it had happened recently, or would happen soon, just based off of scattered memories from school. Seeing her friends excited and whatever. Maybe it would have been fun to celebrate together.

But why would she want to do that? Lucas was pretty terrible. A shiver ran through him. If she was still alive, he'd just ruin her celebration by doing something incompetent and stupid. Maybe the idea of a celebration would have irked her altogether. Was she even really his friend, in that group? She offered him chips. That was all this boiled down to, really. She offered him chips. That's all that they ever had.

Hey, Desiree?

His mind wandered.

What is it, Lucas?

Uh, I know this is dumb, but, uh, it's my birthday today.

Oh, happy birthday.

Thanks, uh, so, um, I was wondering, maybe I could have another Dorito? Just one?

Lucas hacked up a ball of phlegm from his throat and spit it out, watching it as it fell into the lake below. He picked himself up from his spot on the edge of the waterfall, dusting off his pants as he stood. A few stray raindrops fell between the leaves and stained his glasses with water. It was really kinda nasty out, weather-wise. Humid, sticky, rainy. Lucas had to wait out whatever happened next from up here, didn't he?

It was not optimal conditions to hunt someone down in, no. That'd have to wait a little bit.

((Well, he got his peace and quiet.))

Johnny saw jack shit of people the entire day. Nobody he'd seen until now had died, which was...nice? Ty hadn't murdered anyone with his goddamn teeth either. Good for him. Heard stuff, maybe guns, maybe not. Fuck if he knew. Lots of dead people. Stabbed, shot, poisoned. Didn't pay much attention to the killer names; didn't recognize them, best to assume they were a threat anyway. And if someone tried to touch his shit, he'd fucking kill them.

Johnny didn't want to run into anyone, obviously. That was the safest bet he could make, and he wasn't a gambler. The farther he got without getting into a fight, the safer he was, and staying away from people kept him safer. And so, he decided to head to the Waterfall once the announcement came on. That had been the area that would murder you for fucking being there until just now, so likely there weren't going to be as many people around. Seemed a safe bet. The woods had cover, but that meant Johnny was at risk of ambushes, too. This was the better way, he reckoned. See someone coming, shoot them if need be. Easy, right?

The waterfall wasn't far, so he'd hoped to arrive before anyone else, find somewhere to settle. He ate his food bar (he had 6 left) drank a bottle of water (he had two of those), and choked down half a loaf of one of the breads, and made his move.

Fuckin' typical, really, that someone beat him to it. Johnny heard the voice only a second before he saw who it was, and he considered bolting until the words registered. The shotgun hung limp in his hand, barrel at the ground. He just stared. There was a dude standing by the edge. Didn't look like he was gonna jump. Wasn't holding a weapon. Singing...

"What the fuck." Johnny said aloud, well and truly stumped.

Lucas turned around.

"Oh, hey, Johnny," he said, "well, ain't this a surprise."

There wasn't really anything surprising about it. Johnny was just one fucking guy. Just one fucking guy, on this island, with one fucking gun. So what if he walked in on the whole birthday singing thing and made Lucas feel sorta uncomfortable. Creepy dude. Didn't matter at all. Lucas barely knew him anyway. He was almost certain Johnny didn't know his name. Didn't even know that this was his birthday. Probably. Nobody really knew. Lucas kept that on the down low, and now was wishing he hadn't, because it would have been great if someone else were to come back and wish him happy birthday right now. Seeing Sakurako would be nice. Wait, where was the pickaxe? He dropped it here, right? Someone must have just decided to yeet it into the void.

"It's my birthday today. June twelve. Eighteen years old. Made it. Feels nice."

He smiled and relaxed his posture a bit. Johnny probably wouldn't shoot him either. If he hadn't done it already, he probably wouldn't now. He was a rebel. If he was told to kill, he wouldn't kill. If he was told not to kill, maybe he would. Who knew?

"Say, you happen to run into Erika past couple days?" Lucas asked, "I'm looking for her. I have a message from one of my friends."

...Seriously?

"Seriously? Shit, dude." Johnny didn't really know what to add to that. His fucking 18th birthday here. That was like, an extra level of demented fucked-up-ness. Johnny didn't really know what to add to that. Well, he knew what he could say, but..."Uh, happy birthday, man. Fuck, though."

He crossed his arms, gun nestled against his chest like a baby or something. Johnny considered what Lucas was asking, furrowing his brow. Erika...the name rang a bell. Quiet girl, one of the stoner kids...Ty's girlfriend, right? Oh. "Shit, she killed someone." Johnny said aloud. He studied Lucas' expression.

"Haven't seen her, no." He was honest. Hell, it didn't matter to him, whatever was going on there. If he had seen her, he'd have said as much. " I ran into Ty, 'fore he ripped someone's throat out with his fucking teeth, but I dunno about her."

Johnny shrugged. "You wanna kill her? Revenge or something? Or what?"

Lucas laughed and shook his head. At a lot of things. Some rain bounced off a leaf and caught him in the shoulder. Johnny's observation that this was all fucked up was right, and so was his seeing through Lucas' half-truth. Yes, Erika killed someone. Sure, she was with another murderer. That was good info, but not the info he wanted to hear.

"No foolin' you, huh?" he said, shrugging his shoulders, "yeah, she shot my friend. My only friend here. And I want to take my revenge, but knowing she's associating with other killers and knowing the weaponry that she has and what I'm stuck with—"

He held up the swords and crossed them over each other like crossbones beneath a skull.

"—hell, it was just the Minecraft shit before I asked someone for this one. I set out with a strong feeling and I don't know how strong that feeling is anymore. I don't know how strong my will is. But I don't want to half ass this. Under no circumstances can I fuck this up."

A sigh came from his mouth, followed by a high pitched whistle noise as if he was observing the emotional weight of the statements that he just made. But that was feeling sorry for himself, and he didn't want pity, and he didn't deserve sympathy, so it must have only been a whistle or else he was already slipping up.

"So how've you been, man?"

Johnny shrugged again.

"Well I mean, good luck. I don't blame ya, and I'm not about to stop ya."

Lucas was talking some melodramatic shit about force of will and taking revenge. Johnny preferred plain talk, but he didn't know Lucas much. Maybe he was just like that. Fuck, there were worse sins out here than talking funny. Revenge was like...who cared? Lucas, clearly. Not Johnny. He had people he liked, sure, but going out of his way to kill people for their sake was just a waste of time and energy. They'd have to die anyway, for him to live, and he wasn't so good a person he was gonna kill himself for their sakes.

Fuck. This was such bullshit.

"I uh, got shot at like a minute after I woke up, but he missed. Gervais, it was. Ran into Ty around the same time, actually. He seemed uh, not super cannibal-y at the time, but I dunno."

Johnny crossed his arms. "Ran into uh, Drew, the gay guy, and he'd got shot by Gervais. That was yesterday, wasn't dead then, didn't die since I guess. Juliette and Julien were with him, but I wasn't interested in playing doctor."

He looked out across the waterfall. "I dunno, I guess I'm better off than most folks. Can't complain, I guess. Mean, I got a gun, and I'm not fucked up or hurt or anything." A pause. He wasn't big on small talk.

"What about you? Sorry 'bout your friend, obviously. But uh, holding up alright besides that?"

(Jeff Greene continued from The Spirit World)

Jeff had been sullen all day after hearing the announcement, and the rain hadn't been helping matters, though at least his shield had made for a good makeshift umbrella. No names had been mentioned, no one had been blamed in the death of Cammy. He thought he'd be relieved by that, but he realized that he'd almost been looking forward to everyone hating him. It would have made interactions on this island so much easier if he thought that everyone was gunning for him. He'd just walk up, punch people in the face, and that'd be that. Now he wasn't so sure...it'd probably be considered rude or something.

His arm wasn't so sore anymore. Still hurt to move it, and he wasn't going to take it out of the sling until he was absolutely sure that it was safe, but at least it was on the mend. He had had a look at it when he turned in to go to bed. His upper arm was twinging and his elbow was giving him troubles. Must have bent it weirdly when he took the brunt of that hit. But luckily, he'd be able to have it out sooner than later.

He hadn't come to the waterfall for any reason, just seemed like a good place, and it had just opened so he figured he'd take a look. He wasn't surprised to see people there, chatting, by the sound of things, about how things were going, and taking advantage of a bit of brush to hide out from the rain. He didn't catch the details over the steady stream coming down, but it seemed like fairly regular, downright easygoing small talk.

Sure, he could do small talk.

"Mind if I get in here?" he asked, edging into the small bit of shade that this makeshift canopy provided. He had the shield, yes, but holding his arm above his head was proving to be a little annoying. Even with the profile that he and the shield cast, he'd still be...mostly dry. He caught sight of yet another shotgun (Jeez, how many of them did they hand out?), which gave him pause, but at this range, he had 50/50 on bopping the kid before anything unpleasant happened.

"Don't mind this," he said, indicating the sling. "Some guy with green hair hit me with a sledgehammer. Shield didn't protect me worth shit."

See? He wasn't confrontational all the time. He could do casual just fine. Easy.

"Gervais," Lucas repeated, "noted."

Lucas did not really know who Gervais was.

The name was a little familiar, sure, because at this point everyone's names were, just a swirl of syllables and nonsense that he had picked up in the background radiation of George Hunter High School's toxic fucking social system. More background characters with names than Lucas could reasonably expect himself to shake a stick at without getting at least really fucking tired around the halfway point. It's not like they'd kill anyone, anyways. Johnny escaped unharmed, and Ty went on to kill some people as expected, and the J-Platoon implicated in Johnny's memories as present at one point or another for a shooting, Julien and Juliette, they were alive and kicking and probably would be for a while because they were important. Lucas couldn't make a dent in that. People around here had firepower. Lucas had some shitty swords and a promise to keep.

"Things so far were okay, before, well," Lucas said, "you know. It was fun, almost. I didn't like everyone in my group—Thomas, Sean, Desiree—but they were agreeable a little more than half of the time. Until Desiree got shot. Then everything went to shit. I wanted to go avenge her and Thomas threatened me when I tried to leave. He stuck a gun in my face, too. But that didn't stop me from—"

He was interrupted by the arrival of a second waterfall over-looker. His name was Jeff. Why were there so many fucking people with names that started with the letter J walking around? Jeff had a broken looking arm, and a shield. The shield was interesting. All heroes needed shields. Lucas already had the sword, and it didn't look like Jeff was going to get much use out of the shield in his current state. Maybe he could talk him out of it like he talked to Zach. Probably not. Jeff wasn't fucking tiny. Quite the opposite, actually. He wasn't a goddamn Carter, but he was fairly big. Bigger than Lucas, at least.

"Oh, sure, come on in," Lucas said, scooting over a bit. The heavy smell of rain was stronger where Lucas moved to, just a few feet away. Maybe it was the rain coming down harder. Maybe it was the thinning of the foliage. He was still dry, just a little less dry-feeling.

"Green hair?" he asked, "Sledge? That'd be Lorenzo, right? Jesus Christ, there's too many fucking killers running around to even keep track at this point."

"Sorry, man."

What else was there to say? Fuck, his friends were literally dying. What was Johnny supposed to do, pat him on the shoulder? He stared out across the waterfall again.

Jeff Green arrived, and Johnny glowered at him a little. He was a jackass, for one, and he had a bigass shield, and if he rushed them, it might be bad. Were riot shields bulletproof? He wasn't sure, and he'd rather not need to find out. Johnny looked him up and down warily. "Fine."

He looked back to Lucas, but kept his eye on Jeff in the meantime. "Lorenzo killed too, yeah?" Lorenzo was a freak if there ever was one; no surprise he went nuts out here. "Just gonna get worse from here, man. Iunno what to tell you."

And Johnny didn't, because he didn't really know what he was telling himself. Was he glad people not him were dying? Sure. Was it still shitty? Yeah. And he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later, and that bugged him. The later, the better, really.

So...Green Hair was named Lorenzo, eh? Now that Jeff made the connection in his head, he filed it away for future use. He wasn't bad at names, per se. He'd just never put in the time or effort to learn them. Well, as the saying went, better late than never.

Say, now that they mentioned the name, wasn't there a Lorenzo in the announcements? Yeah...he killed someone named Sapphire Waters. Guess Jeff's instincts were right on the money. If he'd let that rat-bastard worm his way into the group, there'd be more than one dead...okay, he was going to stop right there with that. Just thinking about it was making his stomach tighten up.

Shotgun Kid was eyeing him suspiciously. Couldn't blame him. Jeff'd been standoffish with a guy about his size just yesterday. Who could be blamed for assuming the worst of him as well? Jeff nodded at him, just accepting the very mild assent that he was being offered.

The conversation continued, and Shotgun K---actually, no, this was stupid. This guy had a proper name, and Jeff was going to use it.

"Didn't get your name," Jeff said. "Relax. I'm not murdering people." The thought had crossed his mind that he should be, seeing so many guns around the place. This shield was becoming less adequate the more shotguns he came across, and going off the announcements, the kids on this island had all kinds of small arms besides. He had the nailbat in his bag, but if he had to close the distance, he didn't put much stock in his ability to outrun a bullet.

He couldn't rob these people though. Not them. They didn't deserve it. Yet.

Lucas took a moment to adjust to how Johnny had just adjusted his perception of things. Things were going to get worse. No shit, eh? That much was obvious, Captain. He leaned his head back and exhaled sharply. Shield-y Jeff asked Johnny what his name was and added basically the first amateurish sign that someone was exactly what they were saying that they weren't—he denied something that none of them asked about. Lucas looked him over. He didn't see any signs of any fucking blood or anything. The telltale signs of an I-killed-someone. And it was a bit early for that.

He turned away and looked over the waterfall. The back of his neck felt a little sore, seared in. Maybe he got a bit of a sunburn while he was outside the first day. He wasn't used to sunburns. Usually, he just tanned, without sunscreen. It was an interesting sensation. Not especially painful, but one that occupied a lot of the space he was using to experience the world in a sensory way. His back also hurt a bit, from slouching a lot these past couple days. He was hungry, but he didn't want to open his bag and get water inside. The rain was starting to smell sort of foul. Maybe these were smelly plants, surrounding him, he thought. It wasn't unlikely. He'd never been anywhere tropical, and tropical places usually had that. Smelly. Plants that did.

"I'm probably a piece of shit for saying this," Lucas did, "but I'm kinda bored."

Lucas raised his hands up in front of his chest and cracked his knuckles.

((OOC: Espi has given me the handler rights for Johnny. So from this point onwards, I will be his handler.))

Johnny returned Jeff's inquiry with a grunt, the corner of his mouth twitching and baring teeth. Would've been nice to be able to believe him, but there was 20-ish people that probably had the same thought and were probably fed the same "oh I'm not murdering you" shit.

Not that Johnny himself was going out of his way, either (jury was still out on if he ever had the misfortune to run into Gervais again), but relaxing killed. The best he could muster was awkward pleasantries.

"Johnny," he replied flatly before turning back to Lucas. His grip stayed tight on the shotgun.

Lucas said some shit about being bored, like being bored was a bad thing here. Johnny opened his mouth to speak but held back at the last second, instead resolving to just awkwardly rub the back of his neck. As much as it was stupid shit to say, he didn't need to get beat down even more. Johnny had the flu on his last birthday and he was dying and it pretty much sucked, but it was Disneyland compared to here.

He thought about what else to say when he looked at the river, at the stones lined up haphazardly along the bank.

Fuck it. He was gonna roll with it.

"...Wanna skip rocks or some shit?"

This conversation wasn't going well. Jeff could see it in their faces, in the way they sneered at him. He wasn't used to putting people at ease, never had the need for it before, and he especially wasn't comfortable with the way that the kid without the shotgun was looking him over. He tightened his grip on his shield, widened his stance slightly...

And then nothing. The two of them acted like he was basically a nuisance, doing their best to focus on anything but him. Was he good then, or were they just subtly hinting that they wanted him to go away? Even Johnny's reply felt terse, and he was surprised that he got a name out of him at all.

Fine, whatever. He was getting used to assholes. If they wanted him to leave, he could just keep on going.

Just as he was about to turn away, Johnny threw him a curveball, asking if they wanted to skip rocks. Friggin' rocks. In the rain. Jeff's lip tightened, examining his face for any signs that he was being mocked. As far as he could tell, this was 100% sincere. Not exactly encouraging.

"Hmph. Fine," he grumbled. "What else is there to do?" Besides the obvious, of course. But sure, he could take a break from fighting for his life and trying to get home to his family so he could skip a friggin' rock. Why the heck not?

Jeff stepped out of the tree's protection down to the river bank, still glancing back at the other two with narrowed eyes. He kept his shield at the ready, watching their feet for signs of sudden movement, crouching down to examine the rocks at the shore. Truth be told, he'd never done rock skipping before. He didn't know what the ideal rock would be, but he assumed something small and light.

"Okay, don't screw me on this," he said as he slid the shield onto the rocky ground, picked up a fairly smooth-looking rock, and chucked it upriver. It sank with a plonk. Not a single bounce.

"Typical," he growled.

He wasn't expecting much from his first try, but he thought that there'd at least be something, a sign that he had some idea of what he was doing. Maybe there was a technique to it that he was missing. But whatever the case, that was his turn. 0 points for Greene. Annoyed with himself and slightly embarrassed, he immediately slipped his hand into the shield and backed up, letting someone else have a try at this 'fun' game.

Well, that was a novel idea. Not really. But it beat doing nothing. Lucas got off his ass and looked around on the ground for a rock himself while Jeff took his turn. He was never too great at skipping rocks, but back home he could maybe get a skip or two if he had a good one. Something smooth and flat, which for some reason he didn't feel like he'd find too easily out at the top of a waterfall. The location conjured a very specific image of a very specific kind of stone in his head. Something jagged and short, more a ball than a disc, boring and standard and like something you'd find anywhere, not of the cool, lake-bed sort that was good for going across.

Lucas surprised himself, though. He found a rock that was halfway perfect. One side was almost totally smooth. The other had a jagged bump on top, but that probably wouldn't matter all that much. He wasn't going to be skipping that side. He took it in his hands, cold and damp and slightly smelly for some reason, and walked over to the edge of the water just beyond the cover of trees. Dots of water caught in his hair and on his clothes as he drew his wrist back and then flicked his hand forward, sending the rock out over the rushing river.

It skipped one time before it landed in the water with a wet plonk.

"Hey, not the worst," Lucas muttered to himself, stepping back under cover.

"Alright, Johnny, your turn."

Wow. They really were gonna do this shit, huh? Skipping rocks in the motherfucking rain.

Jeff leapt at the opportunity like a kid doing something out of passive aggression after telling them not to. Johnny was gonna say somethin' about how "you can leave if you fucking want", but the mad lad actually took a rock and yeeted it in the river. The oaf had no technique at all, but Johnny was more surprised that he actually went for it. That didn't really say a lot, but it did say a little bit.

Lucas gave a modest attempt with modest results. So now it was up to Johnny to school these bitches.

One hand still awkwardly gripped on the end of the shotgun because there was no way in hell he was gonna let that baby out of his sight, Johnny left the protection of the tree and scanned for the perfect-ish rock along the bank of the river. One called out to him, with a nice weight and size and mostly smooth on one side and forgivably on the other. It would do.

He gripped and bounced the stone in his free hand a couple of times. And then with one flick of the wrist he chucked it. It

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'd its way across the river before unceremoniously drowning.

"Yeah, that's how it's fucking done!" A smug grin weaseled itself onto Johnny's face as he looked back at Lucas and Jeff. Sometimes being a loser with nothing to do and nowhere else to go at a river had its perks.