Survival Of The Fittest

"Hey," he said, looking at a face behind the camera, "I bet you didn't know I knew how to make a fire.

"So, basically, one time, there was this dude on the forum, you know, that one. I've told you the name. So, like, he was this wilderness geek, liked to talk about 'returning to monke' or whatever, the kind of guy you'd expect to go full-on Unabomber mode.

"I liked making fun of him. And the best way to get under his skin was to get pedantic about how he did things. If he bragged about something he did, then I'd look it up in detail and tell him that he was wrong about something stupid and minor.

"So anyway, he's proud of his fire-starter skills because he never grew out of being an Eagle Scout. Or maybe he's just an arsonist," he shrugged, "but who cares? Anyway, I looked up all the best ways to start a fire and kept correcting him about every little detail.

"It only took him about half an hour to throw a fit and call the staff on me. I got a warning."

A grim laugh sounded.

S031: ABHISHEK PANICKER — CONTINUED FROM "Dirty Harry"

Abhishek warmed his hands over the campfire he'd built. The smoke hung in the air, swishing, swirling, dancing in circles with the mist from his breath. The pyre's embers smoldered at his feet, ashes and dust, just a few feet from the toppled log he'd chosen as his seat.

He huffed in satisfaction. After that fiasco back at the station, he had no interest in staying there. The further he got from danger, the better. It wasn't like Corbin could chase him all the way here—even if he still wanted blood after that fight. Not with that fucked-up leg of his.

Still, he hadn't covered as much ground as he would've liked. By the time he'd cleared most of the path, he hadn't yet made it to his destination, the town—only as far as the higher paths of the mountain. He'd have hit the trail again, but the fire was cozy and warm. Oh, and his legs ached.

"Fucking aesthetically-minded workout schedule," he lamented. "Good for absolutely fucking nothing."

His jury-rigged weapon lay beside him, propped up against the log, out of the fire's way. It hadn't seen any use yet, but it was within his reach should self-defense prove necessary. Who knew what was out here? Wolves or, worse—gasp—human beings. Neither knew how to take a joke.

He chuckled again.

The announcements had come and gone, and soon enough John was on the move. The mountain pass, even if it didn't go up to the summit, probably provided good recon opportunities. He could use it to scout out locations and the like. Perhaps he could deduce the locations of Janice and Katelyn, or, as far-fetched as it was, find them directly from up here. Maybe he could find Juanita and protect her from the various killers that skulked about on this godforsaken ice rock.

What he didn't expect to hear this early, however, was another voice.

Maybe it was foolish of him to not expect someone else to already be this high up on the mountain, but there were still over one hundred of his fellows on this island. They could be perched anywhere.

John was fairly certain he recognized the voice, too. It was one of the most recognizable voices in his class, for all the wrong reasons. When he rounded the corner, he definitely confirmed the identity. It was Abhishek Panicker, one of the most edgy, unbearable trolls to disgrace the halls of John Endecott. While he was just rambling about fire towards a camera, John wouldn't have been surprised if he mentioned how awesome North Korea or his hogwash ideology was.

Abhishek may not of been the worst person to run into, it was clear to John that he'd be no Angelo. Heck, even Zora would've been nicer to run into.

And so, John did not engage with the other boy. Instead, he kept his eyes locked firmly on him while he silently crept past him in order to find a better vantage point-

A sudden crunch under his boot quickly put a halt to whatever plans he was cooking up.

All John could do was groan internally and wait for Abhishek to turn around.

[Bethany Lyon walks away from the Fissure uncertain.]

Her thought had been to get a better view from up high, get the lay of the land. On some level, it had also been with a view to nostalgia. Climbing mountains had indeed been a part of Beth's personal hell for some years, but the times she'd shared that experience with Shawn had been the happier ones. Bringing the pair back to something familiar had a kind of comfort to it, even if it was a comfort based in a shared bad experience.

However, the notion of getting a good view over the mining town swiftly left her mind when Bethany first saw the dim light of fire off in the distance. She nudged Shawn, quietly noted the direction, suggested they check it out. There was an outside chance that the fire had been abandoned, that was the best case scenario. Next best was that friendly sorts were sitting around it singing kumbaya. More realistically the duo might have to bargain for access, and pessimistically they might have a fight on their hands. Bethany liked the odds of getting one of the first three outcomes. Even in the third case, they'd get to stand near the warmth while they argued their case even if they should eventually be turned away. Because at that moment, the prospect of the warmth of a real fire appealed to Bethany Lyon very much. She'd rejected the notion of building her own, gravitated towards the derelict and unheated buildings in a vain hope of denying her father the satisfaction of seeing his stupid father-and-pseudo-son adventure trips turn out to be vitally useful to her, but she couldn't deny the allure of a pre-existing fire.

So she crept forward, taking the lead armed as she was, slowing significantly once the crackle of burning wood became much more clearly audible and the light went from dim-and-distant to warm and inviting.

Apparently, somebody else had the same idea: around the same time that Beth turned to whisper that she could hear somebody speaking, she heard a loud crunch on the far side of the fire.

Both sounds raised several questions.

Beth elected to hold off and see what came of it.

Shawn wasn't so confident about getting a good view of their surroundings himself, having already traversed this route less than a day ago, but compared to the likely clusterfuck that was the town he couldn't complain much.

((Shawn Bellamy continued from Fissure))

Besides, he was much more interested in one of the other locations mentioned on the map, one that served as a potential alternative to the two main settlements: The campground. It was relatively remote compared to town, not to mention potentially full of useful camping equipment for them to scavenge, assuming that their organisers decided to leave them anything useful. One thing he couldn't help but notice was that a lot of buildings were missing various essentials: Phones, on-site medkits, fire axes. It seemed they weren't too keen on people making use of their environment, probably to try and encourage those like him who were assigned something worthless into being creative.

Regardless, the appearance of smoke in the distance put his thoughts on hold, ducking down behind Bethany as they slowly closed in. Smoke of course likely meant a campfire, and a campfire meant people, and people meant opportunity. Or danger, neither of which was mutually exclusive.

Naturally curious, and emboldened by his alliance with Bethany, he followed to begin before silently gesturing her to remain put as he took a left turn, clambering cautiously up a small outcrop to get a better view of the campsite. From his small vantage point, he could see the fire up ahead and a figure sitting beside it, though said figure's identity remained uncertain for the moment. He did however catch a glimpse of a third party, someone who had also happened across this site and gone ahead and revealed themselves.

With a decent view of the situation unfolding ahead of him, he gestured to Bethany to join him, content to wait and watch for now. No need to get involved just yet, unless of course a powder keg found itself in need of a little push...

Abhishek flinched at the sound, a crunch in the distance—distinct from the light crackles and pops of the fire. His hand darted to his weapon and wrapped his delicate fingers around it. Then, he glanced back at the camera and opened his mouth again.

"Someone is here."

With that, he looked to the source. It was another of the class's resident military bootlickers—wow, there sure were a lot, huh?—John. Caught red-handed in the act, it seemed, of sneaking up on him. Abhishek wondered what sorts of nefarious purposes were on the other boy's mind.

The last time he'd given an inch to one of his ilk, they'd taken a mile. Nobody, no matter what they said, was so above it all. They weren't any better than the rest because they had so little dignity to be willing to profane themself before the state.

Sure, this might have been nothing. Innocent until proven guilty. Abhishek didn't spare a thought to that idea. John was sneaking and slithering around, but he'd claim otherwise. Everyone would. There was no reason for Abhishek to believe a single word out of his mouth.

He knew better than to trust words. Words were easy.

It wasn't hard to lie. All you needed was conviction. Then, any number of words would flow—a river of excuses, reasons, justifications, and all other sorts of bullshit. Dirty water still flowed the same as if it were clean and clear. Falsehoods would fall like apples from a ripe orchard.

"Hey there," he said, voice imbued with false nonchalance. A smile widened on his face, teeth like daggers. "Seems like you had a major malfunction in your stealth programming. Anyway, last I checked, I'm not Bin Ladin, and you're not a Navy SEAL.

"So, with that in mind, I'd like to ask you something: what's the need for all the cloak and dagger?"

Welp.

One misstep was all it took to get yourself embroiled in a situation you never wanted to be a part of. Oh well. Of course, it would be best if he stopped misstepping in the future, because while Abhishek seemed harmless, for now, anyway, he was sure that there were other people who weren't going to be as... accommodating as Abhishek was being right now. In fact, he knew there were people who would probably kill him on sight. John made sure to improve his stealth programming.

He looked at Abhishek, his smile so wide it felt like he was looking at a communist Cheshire Cat.

"The cloak and dagger? Well, the reason why I was sneaking past you was because I didn't really feel like interacting with you. No one in their right mind would."

He took a step back from Abhishek. Abhishek was more annoying than imposing, but then again, Katelyn was just about the least imposing person in John Endecott, and she'd already butchered two classmates. Looks were certainly deceiving on this island. John needed to keep that in mind.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to continue my trend of not interacting with you. I can keep going up the mountain while you keep monologuing to the man behind the camera. Does that sound like a good trade?"

Not a surprise, really. It didn't take long to identify the voice as Abhishek, perhaps Bethany's least favourite person in all of JEM, so no, she wasn't surprised to hear the other speaker didn't want to interact with him.

Assuming that was the truth, of course. Bethany didn't particularly want to speak to the commie either, but her reason for sneaking around had been to figure out who he was first, if he was armed, if he had friends with him, and most importantly: if he was likely to share his campfire with her an Shawn. Maybe the further-off voice belonged to someone with similar thinking, or someone who'd already identified him but had violence in mind. Ah well, it was academic, Abhishek had spotted him either way, and now they were talking.

Beth leaned in close to Shawn's ear, whispered.

"Do you recognise the other one?"

Oh. Of course it was Abhishek, why the hell not.

Shawn made little secret about how much he fucking despised tankies. How they glorified murderous dictators and authoritarian regimes, preaching the evils of capitalist society whilst reaping its many benefits. He doubted the shifty little gremlin would look so smug if he woke up one day to find himself trapped in a Siberian Gulag, or that his social credit score was reduced because he trolled the wrong guy online.

The fact that he was a provocative little shitlord didn't exactly help either. Not that Shawn ever let him get under his skin or anything, god forbid. He knew better than to let griefers like Abhishek rile him up. Took a hell of a lot to get an intellectual like himself to lose his cool.

God, even his voice makes me want to...

As for the other guy, well, John always struck him as decent enough. Not someone he knew all that well, but neither did he have any beef with him. Not that he would've cared much if the situation between him and Abhi were to escalate...

"Yeah, John I think... Davis that is, navy kid..." he whispered back to Bethany, turning to his friend with a concerned look in his eyes. "Don't like Abhishek's tone..."

Surprise of the fucking century, that.

"Something tells me he isn't going to let John go that easily."

"Sure," he said, with a tilt of his head. "But you're leaving something out of the equation, aren't you?"

Abhishek's smile was still there. A crocodile's grin—leering, sneering, teeth bared. He wasn't about to fold so quickly, not when he still had cards to play, aces hidden up his sleeves. Words were easy, remember? So why should he settle for them alone?

"See my weapon?" he asked; it was a rhetorical question. He raised his hand—and the weapon clasped in his grip—into the air, then let it rest on his shoulder. "It's on full display. But yours is still hidden. I've got a big problem with that."

A pause for emphasis.

"How do I know that you're not gonna take a few paces," he took a breath, "and then shoot me in the back?" Words were easy. Trust was hard. "It's happened before."

His expression still didn't change. His fingers skittered across the surface of the wood, their rhythmic tap echoing in the empty air. For a moment, it felt like you could hear a pin drop. All that mattered at that moment was getting every scrap he could.

John had nothing to hide from the pathetic 'man' he was currently talking to. While the stick with the ninja star thingies may have been intimidating if it was in the hands of someone who was competent, that would could not be used to describe Abhishek. John pulled the knife out of his pocket.

"See this? It's a parachute knife. Ain't got any ranged capabilities whatsoever."

John stuck the knife back in his pocket.

"Besides, unlike you, I have a set of morals that I follow. One of them is to not commit violence against other people, unless they do it to you first."

John stepped a few paces north, away from Abhishek and his weird, unnatural grin.

"So, if you'll excuse me," John drawled, already tired of interacting with Abhishek, "I want to get out of here."

It was difficult to get under his skin, but Abhishek managed to worm his way under there and start biting on his nerves. He just wanted to get out of here as quickly as he could. He had people to find.

Was the little gremlin being careful, or was this escalation? EIther answer seemed plausible. History had taught Beth the truth to the adage if you want peace, prepare for war to an extent, but it had also demonstrated how disastrously overpreparing could go. When protecting oneself becomes an act of aggression in itself, well, it serves the opposite purpose. Unless that was the point all along.

After all, Beth herself had long been guilty of just that. Everything short of the first blow, then claim innocence. Just one of the many things she felt the need to repent for.

So what was it? Preservation or incitement?

John certainly didn't seem to be biting if it were the latter, but didn't that simply leave him open to being attacked first anyway? Abhishek had his weapon up and readied now, an important change from before the other boy had approached. Meanwhile John and his set of morals had shown his hand and then put the damn knife back away. Bethany could understand showing Abhishek the knife, sure, but then you keep it in hand until the threat passes.

Or maybe the similarity between the branch-with-pointy-shit-in-it and Aracelis' nail bat was warping her perception of the whole scenario. Because when she looked at Abhishek's weapon, what she saw was the gruesome ruin of Przemek's face.

Finally, she responded to Shawn, maintaining her stage whisper.

"No... he's trying to start a fight he can tell himself was self defence. What did Mr. Jordan call it in the Cold War? Brinkmanship?"

Well now, things were getting interesting.

Shawn observed John and Abishek's little interaction from afar, stewing over all the many things he could do to try and prod them both into taking action.

Despite the obvious tension in the air, he suspected that the scene before him would eventually peter out if left uninterrupted. Abhishek, like most communists, was all talk. Shawn doubted that he'd ever be the one to make the first move, not unless he was backed into a corner. As for John, it was pretty clear that he was trying to deesculate the situation, which was... Well, counterproductive. After all, the faster his classmates finished each other off, the sooner he could get off this damned rock.

That did leave the question of what exactly he could do to spice things up a notch, ideally without drawing too much attention to himself and Bethany. The latter of whom he also needed on board for whatever nonsense he could conjure up on short notice. Come to think of it, perhaps he didn't even need to come up with anything too complicated, thinking back to what she whispered to him before they left the mine far behind them...

"Maybe, yeah. Assuming he doesn't just take advantage of John presenting himself on a silver platter like that..." he whispered back, silently readjusting his glasses. "Either way, I have a horrible feeling John's going to get himself hurt if he's not careful"

"Unless..." he continues, slowly turning his head to Bethany. "We step in and do something about it, first."

"Fascinating," Abhishek noted. "Alright, then. I don't have any more concerns about you. Unless you try to rush me like I'm B-site or something." He couldn't resist one more jab. "You wouldn't do that, though, would you? You're so noble, after all."

He tutted, fingers still dancing on the grip. His lips slowly closed—from the face of a crocodile to a snake, grin wide but teeth hidden away. Abhishek shoved his left hand into his pocket, and let his posture relax, a mockery of the situation and all its danger.

The first thought that came to his mind was brinkmanship. To push the boundary as far as it could go, to get everything he wanted and more. To move the doomsday clock's hand as deep into the darkness as possible—of course, there was a reason midnight had never ticked away.

"But," he opened again, "your friends don't have those qualms, do they? I can hear their whispers in the bushes." Soon, another volley came—a broadside at John's bow. "So much for your iron-clad morals. Man, you've got the spirit of 'Semper Fortis' down pat."

He'd heard the chittering voices: not in any significant detail, but their outlines in the wind. Ambush. But, with some slight repositioning, his back was to the fire. They couldn't flank him now. If they wanted trouble—and, judging by their skulking, they didn't—he'd bring some trouble.

"Jig's up," he said, a final word on the matter.

When Abhishek began talking about 'his friends,' his face turned into a look of genuine confusion. Friends? What? Were there other people following him and he didn't even notice? If that was the case, then he really needed to work on his perception skills, because they were clearly sorely lacking.

Although, considering what kind of a person Abhishek was, he could just be yanking his chain. It could've been a diversion of his, something to pester and prod him about just to get him angry, like a horsefly. In fact, that's exactly what Abhishek was, a horsefly. Someone who was nothing but a loud annoyance and whose only purpose was to bite you with little stings to rile you up. What a foul little man.

Still, just in case the world's least annoying communist wasn't lying to him, he turned around and focused his eyes at the bushes Abhishek was aiming his improvised stick blade at. He didn't see anyone in the bushes or the outline of anyone in the bushes, but maybe they were just beyond them.

"Hey, possible people. If you really are just hanging out in the bushes, feel free to come out. We're no harm to you."

No sooner had Shawn suggested stepping in to come to John's aid, Bethany's hand was forced as Pol Pot's strongest soldier apparently overheard their hushed conversation. She'd been trying to whisper, but then again, her whole life she'd gotten used to whispering under the ambient noise of human civilisation. Not dead air punctuated only by the crackle of an open fire. Bethany had learned many things on excursions into the wilderness with her father, but how to whisper quietly enough not to be heard by a paranoid tankie only a short distance away was not one of those things.

So, screw it. Stepping in.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Bethany's answer was curt, sure, but wouldn't anyone be wise to judge for themselves who was and wasn't a threat? She emerged from concealment, pickaxe quite visibly brandished. One hand gripped near the base, the other rested just before the business end, ready to go.

"You, I trust. It's him we were keeping a low profile from. What do you say, Panicker? Seems a fire is according to your ability, and heat is certainly our need. Surely you're willing to share?"

Not the perfect phrasing, but the idea should be clear enough, she figured. Awkward butchering of that one Communist maxim, with a side of asserting her own position.