Survival Of The Fittest

((Shu continued from the mineral processing plant building I will link to when not on mobile I promise!!!))

"Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree," Shu sang under his breathe, mumbling through the rest of the words before the same line came up as honestly he didn't remember the rest. It was his favorite Christmas song regardless. He didn't care that he was a poser.

He loved Christmas. Not the gift giving aspect of it, though; there were too many power dynamics to it, like once you got a gift you were socially obligated to give something in return too, and the other person knew it. People loved to put chains around others' necks even if it was ostensibly for their Lord and Savior's belated and suspiciously timed birthday.

But he loved to put up the tree. It was the only specific memory he had left of his mother, real or fake. He couldn't recall her face anymore, but he could feel the brilliance of the festival of lights and tinsel and the smell of the pine needles. Every year Dad talked about how much she loved Christmas. Shu understood.

He had initially come down to this cold and depressing and ugly basement to look for supplies, but on the third box he opened he knew what he had to do.

So in a cleared corner in the darkness of the basement, barely illuminated by a flashlight set up on a forgotten box, in a research center on an island in the middle of nowhere where no one could hear you scream, Shu draped a string of tinsel around a fake plastic Christmas tree.

From the entrance to the underground tunnels, light steps could be heard approaching.

((Mônica “Molly” Oliveira continued from Dissension.))

Elsewhere in the basement, a flashlight had turned on. Light in hand, sword in the other. Like it would do anything.

What were they doing? Like, seriously. What?

Mitch was dead. She’d left him behind, and he’d run off when she wasn’t looking, and now he was dead. Kitty had killed him. Kitty, who Lúcio had so confidently stated was probably just scared.

Molly hadn’t said anything about it yet, but the tears were ruining her mascara. She’d put her make-up back on fresh that morning before the announcements, to try and feel normal, and now it was all smudged up. Now she was walking just a little ahead of Lúcio, so she didn’t have to talk about it and could pretend she wasn’t crying continuously, and hope he had the class to ignore the sniffing.

She wasn’t walking too far ahead, though. She had to keep him within her eyesight. She hadn’t kept Mitch in her eyesight.

They’d left him behind and hid, and he’d died.

They’d left Marian behind and she’d died. Was it exposure? Really? Did the terrorists actually blow her collar, when she tried to take off Oakley’s instead of listening to how stupid of an idea it was?

...Goddammit, Mitch, why did you leave? Why didn’t you listen, Marian?

Were they just going to keep hiding while classmates died just out of sight? Hoping for rescue, and hoping they wouldn’t die first? Finding new holes to hide in? Would this one not have rats? A new place, and she just wanted to hide in the hole-liest part of the building.

And why was someone singing Christmas songs?! It’s December 9th!

Molly stopped, a little ahead of Lúcio, the flashlight sweeping over the basement for the source of the mumbled singing.

Immune to the chorus of footsteps that rang in his ears, Shu hung another red ornament ball on a branch of the pale dust-covered plastic tree.

He continued to hum half-words under his breath. He couldn't stop until he found his light.

((Lúcio hadn't said much after the announcements.))

He didn't want to admit that Matt was right, but he might've had a point. There Lúcio was, talking a big game about how Kitty was just scared, and then she went and killed Mitch. Hell, maybe she had already killed Mitch before he even started defending her, for the cruel dramatic irony.

Lúcio wasn't so concerned about precisely who killed Mitch, though. It could've been anyone here, if it hadn't been her. The more important part was that a friend had died, and Lúcio hadn't stopped him from wandering off on his own. He and Marian both got killed because of Lúcio's negligence, and that was something he was gonna take to his grave.

He wasn't sure if Molly had noticed, but he had stopped to pray for them, and that's why he fell so far behind. Normally, he would've cracked jokes about being too slow, but for some reason he just wasn't in his usual joking mood. Must be something in the air, or maybe the water.

Molly was looking around for the source of the singing, but Lúcio had no intention of being as subtle.

"HO THERE," he shouted from behind Molly. "I DIDN'T REALIZE MARIAH CAREY GOT KIDNAPPED WITH US. CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH? COME OUT AND SAY HI, I'M A BIG FAN."

Startled by Lucio's loud voice, the steps suddenly stopped.

((Daenerys "D" Todd continued from the caged mind craves the comfort of home))

The voice was not one Daenerys recognized, and unless the guy had already gone insane, there was at least one other person nearby.

She saw the a flashlight darting across the room, seemingly searching for someone. It had yet to aim at her. Once it did, she would be standing in the middle of the tunnel. Behind her were around 200 meters until the next curve. And the cooler would slow her down.

With both staying and leaving risky, D remained in place, listening what would happen next.

Molly jumped as Lúcio decided to bellow at the top of his lungs right behind her, the flashlight clattering to the ground as it slipped out of her hands.

“What the hell, bro?” Her voice came out damp, making it all the more obvious that she’d been crying even without a look at her face. She picked up the flashlight, taking the chance to try and scrub the tears away. It mostly just smudged her eye make-up further. Then she straightened up and pointed the light at the source of singing.

…

Oh shit, that was Shu.

...Nope. Nope. Nopenopenope. She’d rather run into Kitty than run into him. The only thing she could think of that would be worse would be running into one of her own exes, and that had only been a thought that occured once she heard 'Shu strangled his girlfriend' over the announcements.

“Weshouldgorightnow,” she mumbled under her breath, though it was so rushed and quiet that it was barely audible at all. Her grip tightened on the zweihander. Despite her mumbling, she didn’t think to stop shining the light at Shu and his decision to celebrate Christmas barely a day after turning up on the announcements.

The singing abruptly stopped with Lúcio's interruption. Shu froze, bent over the cardboard box with a silver, dusty round ornament in the palm of his bandaged hand.

The ray of light in front of him danced around before settling back on himself, his face half-illuminated and shadow projected onto the wall and the tree behind.

He perked back up, fixated on and staring at the ornament in his hand with a neutral expression on his face.

Several seconds later, he looked up and glared at Molly with gritted teeth.

And then he flung the ornament at Molly and Lúcio with all the strength of David.

The ornament hit Lúcio square in the chest, shattering on contact, the glass shrapnel exploding out from the point of impact. A few of the wayward shards flew directly at his eyes. He had made no attempt to dodge, not expecting the attack, and like Goliath, he was punished for his boisterousness.

Or at least, he would have been, if he wasn't wearing a thick, heavy parka and snow goggles. In reality, he barely felt the impact through the hefty fabric, and didn't even register that some of the shards had hit his goggles.

"Oy you fuckin' anime twink!" he shouted. "If it weren't for my parka, that could've hurt!"

He gently elbowed Molly, a sibling's way of telling her to let him handle it.

"Great aim, though?" he said nonchalantly, as if they were back at school. "Honestly, I'm impressed. I probably wouldn't have hit that shot and I play lacrosse."

So Shu was predictably as belligerent as strangling his girlfriend suggested. Lúcio was still having trouble believing that the lanky boy had it in him, but maybe that was because he thought Shu was kinda attractive. It was never the people you suspect that end up being crazy, and always the pretty boys with mysterious histories and questionable auras.

"No need to be violent, though," he pleaded. "We're not here to hurt you. What are you even doing here?"

Having a longer set of lines to work with allowed Daenerys to identify the talking people.

It were the Oliveira-twins. Two friendly classmates D had moderate contact with in her daily life, albeit not enough to call them friends. Now they stood between her and survival, just like everyone else. She would have prefered running into the Zima-twins, who she had less of a connection with.

Apart from that, the two being together was good for them. It meant that they had both one person to rely on. D knew little about SOTF, but too much about how one person standing up for you could make a difference. While Daenerys herself had a few friends she could have tried to team up with, that possibility had most likely left with the light behind Roberta's eyes. Anyone who would fully trust a murderer was a little too gullible to make for a reliable teammate. Plus there would always be the danger of actually making it to the Final 2 together.

Judging from the conversation, an unknown third person just attacked Lúcio. Not her fight. Maybe they would kill each other, and maybe the sole survivor of the fight would be hurt enough to allow D to rush in and reap all the rewards without any trouble. But that was one maybe too much to bet her life on. Especially since she wasn't hurting for resources at the moment.

She slowly took a few steps back, intending to retreat through the tunnel she had barely emerged from.

Crack!

The glass she stepped on sounded as loud as a landmine.

Molly squeaked at the sudden thrown object, dropping the flashlight entirely once more to put both hands on the handle of her sword. The light continued to keep the room lit, landing on its side, though now it lit Shu from underneath instead. It didn’t make him look good. It only enhanced the chills she got looking at him.

Didn’t Lúcio realise that this boy just wasn’t right? Strangling his girlfriend, and now he was humming Christmas tunes in a basement? Throwing the ornaments at them like they were the ones in the wrong? And yet Lúcio was just… talking?

God. Matthew was right. This was so stupid. And she might have said that the terrorists would make everything sound worse… but, like, shooting his girlfriend might have been understandable. Bad, but it was something that could happen by accident. But strangling? With barbed wire?

Molly hated confrontation. That still held. And normally she’d handle it like Lúcio. Talk, but pretend nothing bad had happened. But not here. Not with Shu. She knew they should turn tail and run. But she couldn’t. Not without Lúcio. She'd never forgive herself. Her parents would never forgive her.

But if he… thought he could handle it… then for now, she’d--

Crack!

Molly turned sharply towards the noise, raising the zweihander. Already on edge, the blade trembled.

Shu was so close, but the light he sought was slipping through his fingers and fading away like the finest sand in the desert. Everyone kept ruining his attempts to find happiness, even here. His face flushed red from all the rage boiling inside, melting his icy exterior into puddles of water.

The cracks of glass in the background set him off harder as he snatched more and more ornaments from his reserve and hurled them at every direction in a blind rage.

"Just go away!" he cried, his voice cracking like a melting glacier. "Leave me alone!"

Lúcio startled at the sudden crack of glass, before covering his face with his arm as Shu started wildly pelting the area with ornaments.

"Okay this is," Lúcio began, interrupted by another ornament striking him in the chest.

"...bad," he continued, noticing his sister's obvious distress. "We should..."

Another ornament hit his leg. Molly and Shu needed a moment to calm themselves, and whoever was creeping needed to come out. He wasn't gonna let anyone get hurt here. Or, at least, not hurt badly. He glanced around for a place to take shelter from Shu's tantrum, his gaze resting on a stack of boxes a few feet away from them. He gently took hold of his sister's shoulder, ushering her towards cover until both of them weren't in line of sight of Shu.

"Shu, we're giving you a moment," he called out. "Whoever else is there, just shout or leave. Nobody wants a fight."

He stopped, then craned his head over to Molly's ear and cupped his hand over his mouth.

"Molly, you good?" he whispered. "If you wanna bail, then we can bail."

Maybe five seconds after Lucio called out to the darkness, he received an answer.

"It's me, Daenerys. I am not looking for a fight either."

A slight pause.

"Just for a place where no one tries to kill me."

Shu flipped the fuck out abruptly, hurling ornaments every which way. One nearly cracked Molly in the face, missing by an inch before shattering behind her.

She might have lashed out at Lúcio with the sword – not hard, but a little – if the hand on her shoulder hadn’t been gentle when it guided her to the boxes. She exhaled hard once they were at least out of sight, but immediately Lúcio got back on his communication thing, when this guy was just… how much worse did Shu have to do before Lúcio stopped giving him chances?

“We are not giving him a--” she started to hiss, grip still tight on the sword.

The other voice spoke up.

Molly lowered the zweihander somewhat, but said under her breath to Lúcio, “She was on the announcement, too.”

Still, better Daenerys than Shu. She didn’t really remember much about who Daenerys had killed. It had been right after the announcement had brought up Mitch, so… her hearing hadn’t been all there, she only remembered at all for how pop-culturey the name was. Heck, she might have mixed up Daenerys with one of the dead, but that clearly wasn’t true.

“Your call on D,” she muttered to Lúcio. “But I want to put distance between that… that psycho… and us.”

It took a lot for Molly to use harsh language or insults towards anyone.