Survival Of The Fittest

((Dave Dearborn continued from Daylight))

Dave didn't even know what led him to wanting to come to this place of doom. He wasn't really concentrating on where he was going right now. He was seeing a lot conveyor belts and pipes and stairs and walkways. He felt like he was in a neverending maze and he felt like he was going insane by the second.

He let out a tired sigh.

He really needed to take a nap or something. But then he was afraid of getting killed in his sleep. This was all making his mind spiral out of control as time went on. He needed to just de-stress. It would all be okay. Really, really. He just needed to stop thinking about murderers and victims.

No biggie.

.....

"Fuck."

((Alex Avanesian continued from @tracendanya You litte F**ker You made a shit of piece with your trash SOTTF it’s F**King Bad this trash game))

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty old building, reverberating off conveyor belts, walkways and abandoned machinery.

Why he'd picked here, Alex wasn't even sure himself. Logically, the town itself was where people would be. In the houses, rising from their slumber to stumble out onto the streets of a dead town and try to not end up in a similar condition themselves. In the church, praying for salvation. Scattered around the roads, alleys and backyards, hiding from the inevitable.

But that was the obvious place where everyone would gather. Easy pickings. And so someone who was serious about survival would elect to stay away, hunker down in a makeshift shelter in somewhere that would be condemned anywhere else and think they've outsmarted players. When they had went hunting, Dad tried to instill in Alex a hunter's mindset. Watch where you're stepping. Make sure you hit what you aim for.

Think like your prey.

Alex thought it was a lot easier to think like a scared, desperate person than a deer that'd probably get hit by a car or something.

Judging by the swear word that echoed as if answering the call of his footsteps, he was right.

Dave could hear the sudden footsteps that weren't his own and he stopped walking, listening carefully to where they were coming from. It almost felt like an echo of noise all around him. He was pretty sure that they were coming from around a corner somewhere. Behind him...? Yes, behind him.

Dave briefly rustled about with his bag, making sure to get the machete out swiftly. He zipped the bag back up and he let it drop to the ground with a loud bang. He needed.... He needed to be sure that they were a friend and not a foe or a killer. If they were a killer.... He had to make sure that they didn't have a gun so that he could get away or if he would have to take them out of the game.

Game...? Jesus, Dave. What are you thinking?! This isn't just a game.... People are just dying for no reason!

He turned around slowly and he waited, keeping quiet.

His grip on the machete tightened.

A bang echoed through the building, and Alex paused temporarily, waiting. Was someone with the person? Could that have been a gunshot? He didn't want to run into a shooter. For all the determination he had that this would be the day he killed again, it wouldn't do anything against a bullet. This wasn't Undertale. Determination meant nothing if you were up against something better, someone better.

When nothing else came of it, Alex continued slowly, spear in one hand. Turning around a corner, a pathway on the ground floor sandwiched between machinery and a partially collapsed walkway, the mystery person emerged: Dave Dearborn. One of the Christian types. And he had a curved blade with some sort of weird covering on the handle.

It was the perfect setting for a spear. Long. Corralled. Your prey having a short-range melee weapon. It was likely that Alex would get what he wanted.

"Hey." After a second of staring at Dave, Alex spoke. "You OK?"

Dave heard the voice talking to him and he turned his head slightly a bit more. He frowned and felt a feeling of unease. Alex Avanesian. He was pretty sure that he had heard Alex's name on the announcement. Speared Cedar Dalisay. Something that was so messed up.

He could see the spear right now and he was trying to keep himself calm. He was feeling like a cornered animal. The only way out was for him to push through Alex, but there was no way that was happening without him getting an opening. He needed Alex to have his guard down.

"No, definitely not." He commented honestly. "....You were on the announcement."

Well done, Dave! He knows that, you fool!

"...I just wanted to stay hidden. Away from people."

People who are killing. Blood.... Blood on the plane.

"Yeah. I was. Because Fitz and Tully attacked me." Alex pointed to his busted nose and mouth with his free hand, still keeping his gaze on Dave's blade. As he spoke, he took a step forwards. "We were in a room - me, Fitz and Tully, Cedar and some girl called Dawn. Tully had smoke grenades, and he pulled one and rushed me. And then Fitz tried to shoot me but shot him instead. Cedar ran at me - I think she was just trying to get away, and I panicked and..." Letting out a sigh, Alex glanced down at his spear.

"Yeah." He concluded his lie of an explanation that way, shrugging. "And then Fitz killed that poor girl yesterday."

Dave was on edge. Liable to run, liable to attack, liable to do anything. If Alex could calm him down, get close enough, this would be quick enough, then he could head on to the town and see what pickings were there.

Dave's eyes glanced between Alex and his spear. He wasn't sure what to think about Alex's explanation. He could also see that Alex was trying to get closer to him and he instantly took a step backwards. He knew that that was a bad move to do as it would only trap him more like he was in a cage. He had to make sure to not be caught like a prey. He couldn't let Alex have him.

"I see, I see. An accident...." He said a bit too quickly with a bit of panic in his tone of voice, making sure to keep a steady hand on the machete. "Sounds like Fitz is letting this all get to him. But I'm sure...."

He hesitated for a few seconds. Trying to see an opening to get away. Alex was in the way. So that meant that he would have to do something unforgivable.

"I'm sure that you don't want to hurt anyone else, right?" He let out a nervous, awkward chuckle.

An hint of hope mixed in the hopelessness and paranoid.

Maybe he was going a little too quickly. A little too fast. He didn't want to scare Dave off, nor did he want to provoke him into attacking. But to Alex, this was his chance to show that he was able to do this, to kill, that Cedar wasn't just a fluke. That he was better than Fitz and Dawn and every other player who'd stumbled their way into playing without so much as a prior thought about the realities and tactics of SOTF.

Alex took another step forwards, stretching his back with a little arc that puffed his chest out. It wasn't even intentional, his back was just kinda stiff from all the walking, but it was only once it was done that he realised it was both weird and intimidating, maybe. A quiet groan slipping out of his lips, he nodded. Didn't matter. Wasn't like Dave would be talking about it. His friends would make fun of him for it, but if he got to see them again he would have more issues.

"Wouldn't hurt a fly, Dave. Don't you worry." He gave him a confident smile, the missing teeth making him look like a little kid proudly displaying how his baby teeth were missing.

Just a little closer now.

Dave suddenly let out a louder laugh. He couldn't help it. Alex was lying right to his face and he was trying to intimidate Dave. He could see that and the worse thing was, was that it was working without meaning to. Dave was already on edge and he was definitely in the category of "I can't really trust anyone here". Friend or foe or killer or victim.

All Dave could really do, was trust just himself.

"Liar." Was all he said before he tried to move around the spear.

His machete was trying to swing at Alex's arm, wanting to disarm him and make him bleed.

Dave's eyes were starting to look a bit wild, letting out another laugh. His mind felt a bit broken.

Alex was aware that yeah, he was being kinda weird. It didn't make tactical sense to try and spook the guy with a machete, but something inside him was forcing him that direction. He had to admit, it felt good to menace someone. To mock someone who would be easy pickings for anyone they stumbled upon.

But he'd clearly overstepped. Dave let out a crazy laugh and swung for him, Alex jumping backwards to avoid the worst of the injury. Even still, the blade had left its mark, a little gash on his right arm that... didn't seem to really be bleeding much, at least not yet. It hurt.

The corners of Alex's lips turned upwards.

As Dave laughed again, Alex lunged for the machete hand, trying to knock it out of his hand — or even take his hand out of commission if he could. He'd made a little tactical error, but it was nothing that would save Dave. A gash was nothing compared to a spear in the stomach or chest.

Dave had managed to get a hit on Alex. It didn't look as bad that he had hoped it would be, but it was better than not getting anything on him at all. He felt as if he was about to get the upper hand on the other boy, but then he realized that the spear was still in Alex's hands. He couldn't let his guard down. He just couldn't lose now. He had to find a way pass Alex as quickly as he could.

He drew his hand back as quickly as he could when Alex was aiming to knock the machete out of his hand and he felt a stringing on the top of his hand. He could see that it was bleeding....

Alex had caught him with the pointy end.

The red was making Dave feel nauseous. He almost couldn't hold back the bile that was raising up his throat, but he swallowed it back down. Now was not the time for him to throw up.

"Get out of my way, Alex!" He bellowed angrily.

He then stomped closer to the left side of Alex and he swung up his knee to knee Alex right in the stomach. Hoping to get an opening to run away.

A cut for a cut. It wasn't much, but it was something. He just needed to get a good hit in.

Dave shouted at him, and rushed him. It was a smart play — negate the range advantage that the spear gave Alex — or at least it would have been, if Dave had decided to use his machete and go for the kill rather than trying to knee him. Alex threw himself against the right wall to dodge, out of breath for a second, sending a few weak jabs with the spear towards Dave to try and get a killing blow or at the least, distract him.

He wouldn't reply. There was no need. The red tip of the spear said all that he wanted to.

Dave should have tried to use the machete on Alex inside of his knee. Because as soon as he lowered his leg back down to the ground, Alex had started to try to jab the spear at any part of his body that was available for attack.

He felt the spear slice at his right cheek and he could feel the sticky, redness of blood rolling down his face, dripping onto the floor by his feet. He winced as more of the jabs pierced a bit through his left shoulder and another jab at cut at the side of his right hip.

"S....Stop...." He growled in frustration.

He swiped the machete at the spear and he knocked it sideways a bit.

This was his chance to make a run for it.

He turned away from Alex slightly and he started to rush forward a bit.

In this moment, Henry David Dearborn signed his death warrant.

There were many things that he could have done differently leading to this moment, but there were two things that he could have done here and now that would have saved him.

To Alex, they were as obvious as the colour of the sky.

One: He could have turned and ran the other way. Alex didn’t think it was a dead end (maybe he should check that out) but Dave had multiple chances to run. Maybe it wouldn’t have saved him, but it would have kept him living a little longer. If he could have found an exit and ran into the wilderness, he would probably be fine.

Two: Commit to fighting. In that moment where he swiped at Alex’s spear and broke his guard, he could have swung again and ripped the blade through Alex’s neck, tore into his stomach, or even just taken his hand off. He could have emerged victorious. Killed a player, or at the least badly wounded them.

But Dave wasn’t thinking straight, and he made a rather poor choice.

He got up close to his opponent, then turned his back and ran by them.

For Alex, it was immediately obvious what to do. His second chance at glory. His chance to prove himself.

Pushing himself off of the wall, he lunged and planted the spear like a flagpole in Dave’s back.

And this time, he could see all the gory details that Tully’s smoke and the chaos of the situation had hid from him when he killed Cedar.

Dave didn't even feel pain for a second.

But when he did, he let out a grunt of pained agony as he felt the thrust of the spear jerking him forward a bit. He was being kept in place on his feet, even if his feet were struggling to stay up. They already felt like they were going into shock with the numbness that had taken over.

"N-Nggh...." Was all that he could grunt out of his mouth and he could taste something metallic in his mouth. His own blood.

He coughed.

Blood splattered down onto his chin and on his clothing.

He didn't even noticed that the machete had went falling out of his hand and had slid across the floor near one of the pipe, making a loud clanking noise against it.

He then tried to pull himself forward, feeling himself screaming with completely agonizing hurt.

He knew that there was definitely a hole in his back now. He wasn't naïve about that and....

He suddenly collapsed to the ground, groaning. He then tried to half-crawl over to where the machete was. Trying to ignore his weak body.