Survival Of The Fittest

“Go, Terriers, Go!”

Fred’s eyes scanned over the stands. Teddie prancing around in his fursuit, the cheerleaders in the stands looking fucking cute in their little outfits, the whole damn school cheering them on…

He was on the move, faster and faster, down the court. The game was almost over. Three minutes. The other team were a couple points up. Sixty-nine, seventy-one. It was now or never. And he had the ball. Not Big Dick, not Donovan. Him.

Thirty feet. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten.

Fred jumped, yelled, shot, fell-


((S096 Fred Hobbes – Start))


The jolt of pain in his lower leg was what woke him up, still yelling. He wasn’t still at homecoming, that was immediately clear, even if his ankle hurt just as much as it had that night. So where was he? He rolled off of his ankle, easing the pain, and played catchup in his head, running through the time that had passed. There’d been the dance first, fucking waste of time that had been. Then… a month or so of school? Jesus. Thanksgiving? He remembered getting ready for the senior trip. He remembered the bus journey, or part of it. Then the memories ran cold.

The realisation hit Fred like a ton of bricks. He sat shivering on the rocks for a while, staring at the sea.

The terrorists had left a weapon for him. What was it, a mace? Something out of Dark Souls or Game of Thrones. Chain with a spiky thing at the end. This one was made of old scalpels, so old that Fred wondered if they were even still sharp. He didn’t test it. Even blunt it could probably kill someone from tinnitus or tetanus or whatever the rusty metal one was. That someone would probably be him, though, since swinging this shit around was a one way ticket to the afterlife. Didn’t people get like, guns in this thing? He was fucked.

Fred groaned. He wanted to cry, from the pain and the fear and the fact that this was it, the end, no triumphant finale nor second chance, just another anti-climax. Because what could he do? He had a sprained ankle and a cruel joke of a weapon and nothing else, no skills worth a damn. What was Fred?

He didn’t realise he was standing until he took the first step and his ankle, still sore, reminded him. He set off, limping down the beach. He had to find a friend, someone who would protect him. That was all he’d ever been, right? Part of a crowd.

S033-Dominiqua Ashmore-Start!

Dominiqua carefully navigated through the slippery rocks. She was scared, but she had to move. Who knows when the tide could come in. She had to find better, more stable ground. The air was cold, but her jacket mitigated this issue.

She looked out at the ocean. She'd like to take a picture, but she didn't have her camera. It likely got confiscated by the terrorists. Checking her bag earlier, she found out that her designated weapon were some self heating field rations. Extra food was nice, but she was basically defenseless.

As she slid down a flat rock, she noticed a boy in the distance. It looked like he was limping. Maybe he was hurt. It might have been a bad idea, but she decided she wanted to help the guy out. Maybe if did, she'd have an ally to watch her back.

"Hey!," she shouted, "Are you okay?"

Fred hadn’t been limping for long when someone called out. He squinted up the beach at her. Dominiqua Ashmore, tall girl, an athlete if he remembered correctly, but he couldn’t remember which sport. Not basketball. Not a teammate, not a friend, but did that make her an enemy? It didn’t look like she had a weapon. Even at this distance she couldn’t be concealing a large firearm or sword or anything. Maybe a handgun or a knife he just couldn’t see yet? His eyes fell on his own weapon, dragging along behind him. Better than nothing. He had to make a split-second decision: if she was unarmed, or just had a shank or something, he might be able to intimidate her with it. But if she had a gun? It would just escalate things. Gun or no gun, she hadn’t shot him yet, and he wanted it to stay that way. So he let the chain drop to the ground, the blades rattling as they slid down a black stone and into a small rockpool.

“…Hey.” Fred said, cautiously. How did he answer her question? Honestly, revealing his weakness, or try and put on a brave face? She must have seen him limping. He figured if there was any chance of an alliance with this girl, he needed to be upfront with her. Show her he could be trusted.

“It’s just my ankle. I sprained it at-” he trailed off, “homecoming” fading on the cold wind . The accident had been humiliating enough that he didn’t want to remind her of it. He’d already shared enough vulnerability.

“It’ll be alright, it doesn’t give me much trouble anymore. They- the terrorists-” the word felt unnatural in this context, in real life; it was a word for the news or action films not…

“The terrorists left me lying on it so it flared up, is all.”

"That sucks dude!," Dominiqua shouted back, "I'm coming over if you don't mind."

Dominiqua made her way towards the boy. Now that she got a closer look, she recognized him as Fred Hobbes. One of the basketball team members. And now that she thought about it, she had heard that one of the team members had sprained their ankle.

"So, listen," she said, "I was thinking of getting somewhere dry. And don't worry, I don't have a weapon. Not one meant to hurt anyone anyway."

She showed him one of the field rations she received as her designated weapon.

"If you want, I can offer you a shoulder," she offered.

Dominiqua drew closer, she moved to him show something, he panicked briefly, but it was just another ration. He wasn’t sure who’d drawn the shorter straw weapon-wise. The rations could be useful if you survived long enough to get hungry, but they weren’t going to do shit getting you to that point. Even a medieval torture device or whatever he’d been given stood a better chance in a fight.

“…Yeah, thanks.” Fred accepted the girl’s offer when she got close, propping himself up against her. “Mind the rocks, they’re slippery.”

He thought about their situation.

“You’ve probably got the right idea. We head inland, try and look for other people or something? If I can find my friends-” He paused, not wanting to scare her off. “Or, you know, your friends, I’m not trying to outnumber you or anything. I just think we’re gonna need more allies. Hopefully some with actual weapons.”

Speaking of, he cast another look at the rock pool where he’d discarded the bundle of scalpels. “You can have that if you want. I can’t really carry it leaning on you, and it’d just knock me over if I ever tried to actually swing it. Or, y’know, just leave it, up to you.”

(Fred Hobbes continued in These days of dishonourable peace)

Dominiqua took a look at Fred's weapon, and raised an eyebrow. Where do these terrorists find these weapons?

"Nah, that's okay," she said, "Okay, let's do this."

With Fred's arm wrapped around her shoulders, and her arm wrapped around his waist, Dominiqua carefully made her way up the rocks, Fred in tow.

(Dominiqua Ashmore continued elsewhere...)