Always Gold

[Mimi]

** Summer Simms, girl no. 21, start

For what was probably a first in her life, Summer Simms was finding herself terribly camera shy.

She sat motionless perched inside the back of a large utility van, legs dangling over the bumper as she stalemated with a nearby camera, neither daring to blink and admit defeat. It whirred softly, moving slightly to follow any minuscule movement she made, its glossy eye never leaving her body. In a way, she was that camera's whole world, even if it was just for a short while.  The thought alone made her heart beat slightly faster, anxiety rising in her chest like a noxious bubble.

It was ironic.

Much of her life had been driven by her need to be in the public eye, to be a star. She grew up wanting to be on TV and in movies, for the world to know her name. She'd gotten what she wanted, hadn't she? People would know who she was now. The rest of her life would be captured on tape and preserved forever. Maybe they'd have memorials, maybe her parents would be on the news talking about her death or all the things she could have done if given the opportunity. Would the people watching like her? Would they talk about what a nice girl she was and how it was a shame she was dead? Did it even matter if she wasn't around to see it?

She broke the hollow gaze between herself and the camera, not wanting to think anymore, her gaze instead falling on the scene in the van behind her. Her belongings were spread across the back area of the van, having been shakily taken stock of and never returned to their home. Her eyes fell on the phone haphazardly tossed on the floor of the backseat, making her feel more hopeless than ever. She'd tried for a good while to get a signal, but received nothing. Just silence.  In the front section, her bec-de-corbin lay with the handle end jutting from the driver seat window, remnants of glass coating the seat below. She'd woken up awhile ago and almost immediately used her designated weapon to break into the nearby van, maybe hoping she could get it to start, maybe just wanting a safe place to collect herself. She wasn't sure.

She wasn't sure about much, anymore.

Covering her face with her delicate hands, Summer took a large, shaking breath and did something she hadn't done in a long time. She screamed. A long, pained scream that echoed through the empty parking garage.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn't care what people thought about her, nor if anyone heard her, because if she didn't scream, she'd cry.

And if she cried, she'd never stop.

[NotAFlyingToy]

((Go go gadget Brandon Baxter, B067))

In the vast, echoing space of the parking garage, where his shoes made far more noise than was comfortable, Brandon Baxter was walking, clutching his bag, and trying to quell panic.

Everything he had known was different, now; beginning with that first harsh report of gunfire that sounded Mr. Davidge's final demise. It was a fact that he accepted, mulled over, and pushed to the back of his mind, an annoying factor like an argument with a team captain before the opening minutes of an important game. You took details like that, little instances that could throw you off, and ejected them immediately. Coach always referred to them as 'background noise', things that maybe you couldn't turn off completely but could drown out as soon as possible.

He forced himself to drown it all out; they were on an island, they were expected to murder their classmates, and their teacher was already dead. The terrorists that everyone already believed to have been permanently silenced were far from it; alive and kicking. Instead of lying down and feeling sorry for himself, Baxter plowed ahead, walking slowly with his hands shifting through his bag, a frown forming on his face as he rifled through its contents.

Fairly extensive med-kit, bottles of water, protein bars... four grenades.

Gingerly, he lifted one of the green, vaguely pineapple shaped grenades from the pack, holding it between a thumb and forefinger, surprised at the weight. He'd seen these before in video games and movies; pull the pin, huck it where you wanted it, wait, kaboom. He had no idea how long the timer was, and he had no idea how big the blast radius was. Both of those were things he should figure out - and soon. Before someone else decided to test their weapon on him. His examination over, he placed the grenade back into his pack, zipped it shut, and slung it back over his shoulder.

Okay, so he had grenades. Grenades were... pretty good as far as weapons go. He couldn't shoot someone with a grenade, but the threat of them was fairly large. If one of his other classmates actually started the shooting, he could scare them off. Or something.
But it wouldn't do in a close-up fight. Sure, he was bigger than most of the kids in his high school, but if a guy like Mike Eastmund or someone else with close quarters experience came bearing down on him, what good would a grenade do?

Excuse me, sir. Before you punch my face in, can I put something in your pocket?

He needed something like a club. Something to give him an edge if he got close. He'd put money on other kids getting knives or swords or something, and who knew what fucking psychos these kids would turn out to be on the island?

What else he needed was a crew. If he could hook up with some other guys on the football team or something, that'd be tops. General Patton would probably know what to do, and he wouldn't say no to getting on Mike E's good side, either.

But first, he needed a weapon. Something heavy he could use if people got too close.

As that thought floated through his head, a loud, echoing scream pierced the relative silence of the garage, ricocheting around his head in a sudden explosion of noise and confusion. Brandon dropped into a crouch instinctively, the duffel bag thumping against the ground and causing him to wince. Grenades wouldn't explode if hit too hard, would they? That wouldn't make sense, seeing as they were meant for war, and if soldiers tried to roll and the grenades compressed, they'd explode and-

The scream continued, and Baxter began to move, adjusting the duffel bag so that it wouldn't scrape along the floor, his hands clenching to fists. The sound was hard to pinpoint because of the echo, harder still to figure out if it was a scream of fear, or rage, or what have you.

The fact that it was female drove him onwards, moving quickly and keeping low toward the back of the garage, where a utility van parked, doors open. He rounded the van, giving it barely a passing glance -

And there sat Summer Simms, screaming her fucking face off.

"Woah, woah, Summer! HEY!" he barked, dropping his bag - and wincing again - as he moved closer to her, his arms outstretched in a stop motion.

[Espi]

[[Theodore Fletcher Continued from Deep Breath Deep Breath]]

Shit. Fucking Hansel.

Theo had run for a while before getting tired. He'd gotten through the forest alright, avoiding any sources of sound or potential human activity. Eventually, he'd become too tired to run for much longer. He'd decided to stop, and to rest at this...nuclear site? That held bad omens, but Theo didn't really mind. It wasn't like there was any material left, right? He was feeling calmer; Hansel was likely not after him, and he'd probably missed.

Theo found a pathway, and following it he found himself in a parking garage. He'd never been a fan; they were too big and crowded with cars. This one was classically gray stone and pillars with markings on the ground, and it was mostly abandoned; he didn't seem to hear people.

Scratch that. People detected.  He heard a loud, piercing scream and jumped. He then realized that the person might be in trouble, and slowly, slowly followed the source down the isleways. He didn't want another Hansel, after all.

Okay, maybe he hadn't quite recovered. His stomach clenched up again.

"Hello? Who's there?" He called out cautiously, walking forward slowly. The gun, the stupid gun, was clenched tightly in his left hand. The safety was on, though it was still cocked. He aimed it at the ground. "I'm armed, but not hostile!" That was unlikely to be encouraging, he noted, but there was only so much he could do in this situation.

[umop-ap!sdn†]

(B034, Joey Caputo, Start.)

He left his position on the second floor of the parking garage to take the stairs down to their level. He'd been looking over the side to see if anything was going on, and when he saw Brandon enter. Joey slung his bag over his shoulder, gripped his knife, and made for the stairs, excited to have somebody he knew was a solid ally in whatever this was.

He'd already gotten his shit together. Now he just needed to get a small group together and keep everybody calm until an opportunity for... something better... arose. As he descended, he heard a shriek getting louder and louder as he neared. The fact that it continued on implied nobody was attacking the screamer, but all signs of alarm in this kind of situation demanded caution. Joey hit the last step and turned around the corner, Brandon was approaching the girl, seemingly trying to calm her down. Nothing violent seemed to be happening, yet.

"Sounds like a party in here."

He soon recognized the pretty girl who must have screamed, and suddenly became aware of a third person at the entrance of the garage. Before he could greet Brandon, he saw Theo's gun. Joey quickly raised his hands and moved towards him. He would come talk to Theo while Brandon calmed Summer down. Joey's duffle bag fell from his shoulder, but the strap hooked into his elbow joint. His other hand held a big ass knife, Kiki.

He hadn't understood the purpose of telling him the foreign name of his weapon, but it had at least helped him name it. He kept it in sight to show he wasn't trying anything sneaky. There wasn't an agile or stealthy bone in his body anyway. He turned Kiki over in his hand so she was pointed away from Theo.

"Don't worry, I got it. Rock beats scissors, gun beats knife, and Baxter probably beats Simms if she doesn't get a hold of herself." Knowing his buddy's temper, he foresaw a backhand in her future. He approached very slowly. A scared kid with a gun was a very delicate situation.

He talked more quietly to avoid startling the boy further. "You aiight bro? You looked pretty freaked when you were booking it here." He was hoping nothing too fucked up had happened yet.

[Mimi]

She screamed for a long while, long enough for her throat to become sore and raw, stopping only when she heard her name. Her hands slid down her flushed face, now cupping her cheeks as she met Brandon Baxter's gaze as he approached her like she had a bomb strapped to her chest. While initially relieved to see someone she was relatively close with back at Aurora, or as close as Summer allowed herself to get, she couldn't help but think back to the video of the two girls from the seminar. They were best friends apparently, according to Mr. Danya, whom himself proved rather surprising with his youth.

So, either he was lying or the game really did change people. There was nothing stopping Brandon, whom she couldn't exactly classify as a best friend, from killing her right there. It scared her and she hoped it didn't reflect too badly on her face.

"Oh, hi, Brandon," She said softly, removing her hands from her face and affixing a bright smile to it instead, as if nothing had happened. Part of her knew it wasn't normal, to switch so rapidly from one extreme to the other, but it was second nature now. She was so used to pretending and defaulting to a smile that she didn't know how else to act, she didn't know what emotion she should be feeling, so she just smiled. It was all she knew how to do.

"Sorry about that. I just needed to get it out, y'know?"

Not a second later, Theo's voice reverberated off the concrete walls at ear-splitting volume, sending Summer's heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach when he mentioned he was armed. Brandon and she were, thankfully, a ways away from the entrance, but the threat was still imminent. Catching Brandon's eye, Summer shot him a concerned look, hoping to pick his brain and find out what they should do. Despite her earlier concerns, or paranoia or whatever it was, she trusted Brandon, which was all too evident when she sidled closer to him, masking half her body behind his large frame as she did so.

"Should we hide?" She whispered softly, voice shaking as she eyed the pathway to the entrance.

[NotAFlyingToy]

Baxter's response was to nod, slowly, his eyes also glued to the pathway, where a higher-pitched voice and one he more recognized mingled and discussed. He thought he heard Joey's lower tones, but he couldn't be sure - the reverberation and echo of the cement and steel of the parking garage messed with his perception of sound. Quietly, he lifted his finger to his lips, crouching low again and moving towards Summer in a walk that wasn't far from a duck's waddle.

His gaze shifted deliberately to her weapon, and then moved back to her, sliding his duffel bag from his shoulder - the tag, B067, matching the jersey he sported - and placing it at the lip of the van. When he was close enough to her, he began to whisper.

"Slide to the back, take my pack and yours. I'll take that," he pointed at her oddly shaped melee weapon that was visible in the front seat, his lips twitching at the ridiculousness of it, "and wait here. If they move on, we'll leave."

Still imitating the duck, he shuffled around the van, easing the driver's side door open with as much stealth as a football player could muster, sliding the absurd melee weapon from it's cradle and hefting it in his right hand. He let the door close without latching, and quack-walked back to the back of the van.

His gaze locked onto Summer's, his blue eyes serious, usually mirthful expression sombre and strained.

He excelled at utilizing emotions and was even better at locking them away. He could draw on anger and filter it out, channel calm or nuke it. He was the starting defensive lineman of a team that went all the way to the playoffs, and a requirement of his position was to be bigger, stronger, faster than the guy across from him.

He was Brandon fucking Baxter. This may have been a different playing field, a different game, and it may have different rules, but it all boiled down to one thing. The only thing that mattered.

Winning the game.

"If they come looking," he continued in a whisper, turning so that his back was to Summer, his stance wide, muscles tightened around the weapon, "I'll take care of it."

[Espi]

Theo didn't hear anything else until Joey Caputo came out of nowhere.

Well, technically he just walked down, but close enough.

Joey was armed, Theo noticed immediately. He gripped the gun, both his hands wrapped tight around the handle, but the safety was flicked on. He held it at his side. He looked at the other boy, not wanting to look hostile. The thought crossed him that maybe Joey would attack him, too. Would he be able to shoot the boy if he came charging? Maybe. He'd already shot at Hansel, though he wanted to believe it was an accident. Still, the situation was uncomfortably familiar.

"Joey." He said, slowly and calmly. "I'm fine. Nothing happened."  Theo knew he was a shit liar, but he also knew Joey wasn't especially bright. It was a risk to lie, but Theo didn't know Joey's relationship with Hansel. If he found out what happened, Theo knew he'd need to bolt. Otherwise another...event would be imminent. Theo would need to be very careful in this encounter.

The memory of the shooting, still fresh, burned in his mind. He could've killed him. He may have. He may have murdered an irritating, but ultimately innocent, human being. The idea made his guts twist up. It made him want to cry, and curl up in a ball and beg for forgiveness.

Even worse was the thought that it might be a good thing. Maybe they'd count it as intentional, and he'd stave off the inevitable detonation of all collars. He doubted it; people were likely to kill, and by now death was certainly happening somewhere. Still, the whispering being in Theo's voice, telling him he did good, was unsettling.

Theo then processed Joey's words for the first time. Something about Summer? Summer ran for class president, he was sure. And Baxter? Probably Brandon, a classic jerk jock. Wait. Was Brandon attacking Summer? Theo suddenly inhaled sharply. "Joey, what's going on? Where are Summer and Brandon? Are they fighting?" he said, coldly. He liked Summer; she was a nice girl, probably losing it on the island. He thought of running then, getting away so Brandon didn't turn on him, so that he'd live a little longer.

But would he be able to live with himself? He needed to make up for his mistake with Hansel. If Hansel was on the announcements tomorrow, Theo wanted to make sure at least one person was kept off by himself.

[umop-ap!sdn†]

"Uhhhhh." Joey looked around. Brandon was out of sight.

"Guess they left. I didn't see any fighting, naw. Bax's got a temper, but he wouldn't... uhh.. yeah, no he wouldn't." He continued looking around from where he stood.

But Joey was the one with the questions. Theo'd come here booking it from somewhere. He was holding a gun and avoiding answering questions. Joey couldn't afford to ignore suspicions. He thought for a moment on what to say next. The kid knew something about something, and any information was important. The kid also had a gun.

He tried to do the situation math in his head. Walking away from this kid meant turning his back on an armed, shady person who had just been instructed to kill all his classmates. That was no good. Talking to him, he'd be able to get some information, and maybe make an ally out of the kid with the gun. Guns were better than knives, and even Taylor fucking Swift knew that two was better than one. He didn't have to commit to a side just yet.

"Aight bro. Let's just talk..." Joey set down Kiki and started moving towards Theo at a very slow pace, hands up. "I woke up up there," he pointed up at the ceiling over them, "bout an hour ago. I watched from over the edge to see who was around." If Joey recounted calmly and honestly, Theo might reciprocate. He tried to look and sound as harmless as possible. "I saw Bax walk in here, 'n I saw you running this way 'fore I came down. Bax talked to Summer, I guess they left, and..." He gestured around to show he was at the present. "That's everything I know."

His stocky arms were now out to the sides and slightly in front of him. He wanted to show he had nothing to hide. The distance between them was about ten feet. Joey stopped so Theo could lay down his weapon and close the gap.

He took deep slow breaths. The gun was pointed at the ground. He had no reason to panic, and the calmer he stayed the calmer Theo would be.

[Mimi]

Summer nodded silently in response to Brandon's commands and carefully climbed back into the hutch of the van. She didn't know what to say, nothing felt genuine or particularly appropriate. It was something new for her, normally she knew just the right thing to say at just the right time, like instinct. It was all so calculated back home, the words she chose and how she presented herself, all with her public image in mind. Often, she wondered if she even had real feelings or if the persona she'd constructed had taken over everything. But here, was there even any need for something like that? Being nice and amicable wasn't going to save her from dying. Sure, maybe boys like Brandon or her friends would want to help her, but she'd die all the same. There wasn't anything to gain anymore.

"Be careful," She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched Brandon duck around the edge of the van with her bec-de-corbin. It was the least she could offer, just a small word of caution. What else could she say?

With shaking hands, she quickly dragged Brandon's bag deeper into the van and shut the double doors with a quiet squeak of resist before hurriedly packing up her scattered belongings. Her ears were at full attention, listening to the soft echo of that duo's voices, but barely able to decipher much of anything they were saying, aside from her own name and Brandon's. They already knew who they were, maybe they were already sizing them up.

Clenching her eyes tightly shut and allowing herself a deep breath, Summer pushed a loosened strand of hair behind her ear.

That was silly. There was no way they'd want to kill her. Everything she'd been worrying about was just Mr. Danya's voice in her head. These were people who she spent years and years with, people she'd be nice to and helped out. They liked her, didn't they? They wouldn't just kill her. They'd remember nice Summer and all the attention she'd given them and they'd let her live.

She clenched her eyes tighter. Relax. It was just paranoia getting the best of her, that was all. Her thoughts were getting all jumbled and twisting around in her head like a tornado. She just had to relax, get herself together, take a couple deep breaths.  Collect herself. It'd be embarrassing if the cameras caught her freaking out and everyone watching thought she was insane. Nobody likes a crazy person.

Finally opening her eyes, her gaze fell on Brandon's bag and curiosity took over. It was safe to say he wasn't given anything terribly destructive, based on his need for her weapon, but she wanted to see for herself. It wouldn't harm anything just to look, although her quick glance out the van's windows to check Brandon's whereabouts may have suggested otherwise.. Before she knew it, she was unzipping the pack and digging through it contents, half expecting to find something silly like a piece of string or a board game.

But staring back at her were four very dangerous looking grenades.

[NotAFlyingToy]

For no good, sane reason, the Mission: Impossible theme began playing in Baxter's head the moment he eased around the van, hammer-scythe in one fist and his other flat on the metal surface of the parked vehicle, stabilizing him. He shot a quick, cocky grin back towards Summer in acknowledgement of her soft warning, then he was moving, bent low, careful to keep the symbol of communism from dragging on the ground.

Da-nuh-nuh, da-nuh-nuh, nuh-NA

Joey and the shrimp were talking, discussing something in tones that made it hard to focus on the words they were saying. Their words were stretched and twisted by the echoey filter that enshrouded the parking garage, accompanied by the buzzing of fluorescent bulbs and the eerie scraping of his own shoes. He paused behind a red sedan, worn and rusted from neglectful owners and time, and watched the two interact.

Theodore had a gun, and Joey had some form of knife - that much he had gleaned from their conversation. Either would be nice to have, but taking them wasn't a viable option at the moment. If he could lure them away from each other, maybe get Theodore alone...

No. Parking garage was too open, way too much cover. If he had a firearm, he could maybe even the score a bit more, pick them both off from a distance. Though he never was good at the long game. An ambush might work, but it was two on one unless Joey helped him out, and that didn't really seem likely for a dude that he lifted weights with and occasionally shot the shit over a beer in the company of. It was more the relationship you'd have with someone you could count on to help you move, rather than the sort of friendship that you'd call upon to strip a potential murderer of his gun (and possibly supplies) while playing what essentially boiled down to a deathmatch with your classmates.

Right. No weapons he could get here. Time to blow this joint.

He briefly considered trying to take Joey with him and Summer, but rejected the idea almost immediately. Joey was too physically close to Theodore, meaning it'd be hard to call the bastard over without alerting his conversation partner, and the day Baxter took a shrimpy little twat to cover his back was the day he may as well put a bullet in his head, regardless of said twat of shrimpiness was packing or not. Baxter would either hook up with Joey later in the game, or he wouldn't. Right now, he needed to think of the one and only.

And Summer too, he supposed.

The Mission: Impossible theme got louder in his mind as he shuffled past the car, moving to a blue SUV, scanning around the parking garage for signs of an exit. He spotted the bold EXIT sign almost immediately; five car-lengths from his position, a concrete staircase rose from the garage, assumedly into the daylight.

A green sign beside it said STAIRS, with an illustration of a white man ascending them.

Sweet.

Baxter turned tail, his jersey and white shirt ensemble catching the light as he shuffled back towards Summer, opening the van doors with as little noise as possible. The second he saw her, he opened his mouth, frowned at her sifting through his shit, then dismissed it immediately.

"We're leaving," he whispered, pointing towards the exit. "You go first, I'll carry the stuff."

[Espi]

Theo didn't trust Joey.

The guy had a knife, a curved hand-held thing. Theo didn't want to be anywhere near him with it. Plus, his story seemed off; Brandon and Summer just happened to be here, but he didn't see them because they conveniently left right before he got there? No, this seemed like a trap. There might've been a guy with a sniper rifle watching him or something.

As Theo thought this, he immediately suppressed a laugh. Wow, he really was paranoid already! A fucking sniper! That was stupid. This was stupid, Theo was being stupid. There was no way anyone was out to get him, or anyone. The game would be played, sure, but that didn't mean people'd target one particular person for no reason withy such an elaborate plan. That'd be ridic-

Theo heard the sound of shoes scuffing the ground.

"Back off." He said calmly, trying to quell the terror he felt. He didn't expect there to be anyone here. That was improbable. So the idea of someone watching him made him very uncomfortable. He raised his gun, aiming it in the general direction of Joey. "I'm leaving, so you can call off your buddies or whatever." He shouted out, "Don't attack, or I'll return fire!"

Theo backed up quickly until he reached the steps, at which point he raced down and out, heart pounding and terrified. He needed to find a place with nobody there, or at least people he could trust. Who he could trust, he wasn't sure. But there was probably some harmless person who he could feel safe with for a bit.

Most importantly, he needed to stay alive until the rescue came. That was the only way he'd stay alive unless he won, and Theo didn't believe he could win. It was just unlikely.

He kept running.

[[Theodore Fletcher's story continues in What a Rush]]

[umop-ap!sdn†]

Joey blinked a few times. The kid must have been pretty rattled. Joey turned back around and scooped up his weapon, brushing her off to make sure she didn't have any gravel on her. If only he'd gotten a sheath for it, he wouldn't have had to worry about how to carry it without slicing his jeans.

He looked around the lot. It was dim, silent, and ominous in every way. The fact that he was a participant in Survival of the Fittest made everything seem that much darker, dimmer, and more perilous. He waited a moment after Theo left. He had no intention of hanging around the garage that seemed to radiate danger. He hoisted his bag back up over his shoulder and moved towards the exit, peering his head out to make sure the jumpy little gun man wasn't aiming at the exit to make sure Joey didn't follow.

Theo had gone towards some buildings, it was probably best to avoid him until he got a grip. If he ever did. He might snap and start killing students out of fear. Somebody might even kill him before he had the chance to calm down. The poor kid, he was in for hell. Joey stepped out of the garage and into the sunlight. He turned to face the opposite direction the boy had gone in. He took a deep breath and started towards the only thing in site, woods.

It was a cute defense mechanism really. Walking in the opposite direction of the kid who's surely going to snap mentally or be literally snapped in half by another student. Joey could head in whatever direction he wanted, but in the end, he and Theo had the exact same chances of the exact same fates. They were both in the same fight to the death, they were both going to kill or be killed.

He didn't even realize how little he mattered on the island. He slung his bag over his thick shoulder and moved towards the forest. The tag identifying him faced behind him. Joey didn't realize that, to the terrorists, the only difference between him and Theo in this game was 007.

((Joey Caputo continued in Wendigo))

[Mimi]

Summer clasped one of the grenades between her thumb and middle finger nearly an arm's length away, as if it were the most disgusting thing she'd touched in her entire life. Her knowledge of grenades was limited to the things she saw in movies or read about; pull the pin, toss, and boom. Holding a real one was something she never imagined she'd be doing, though, and she couldn't help but be intimidated by it. For all she knew, she could squeeze it too hard or something and have it blow up in her hands. She shivered at the thought and softly placed the grenade back in Brandon's bag.

Or she'd meant to, anyway, but her hand lingered like a claw over it and her brain started ticking. All she'd been given was the bec-de-corbin, something she couldn't even imagine using if faced with a threat. It was large and somewhat unruly, having taken her several tries just to break the window from the van alone. A grenade, on the other hand, was something she could use from a distance, buy her some time if she ever needed to get away quickly. Her eyes darted back and forth between them. Had Brandon even bothered to check to see what he'd gotten? Would he noticed if they were gone? Surely she'd need them more. Brandon was built like an ox and could rip a branch from a tree to protect himself with. Summer could barely do a pull-up, let alone overpower someone trying to kill her. Her long fingers snaked around the tough material of the grenade, her lower lip firmly planted between her teeth.

She just needed one. He'd have three to himself if he needed them.

In one swift motion, Summer transported the grenade from Brandon's bag, eyeing the the window of the van as if she were a child sneaking sweets from the kitchen. She hesitated for a moment before removing one of her energy bars, zipping up her pack, and placing the bar in Brandon's.

That was fair, right? Like a trade. She felt less like she was screwing him over that way.

In the process of zipping his bag up, Brandon opened the doors, startling her. Almost immediately, she plastered her smile on her face and tilted her head slightly. She'd read somewhere that tilting you head made you appear more attractive, although she wasn't too sure about the science behind it. If need be, she'd make up a lie. Or just omit half of the truth. She was just curious to see what they'd given him, that's all. It wouldn't be a lie that way.

Thankfully, he didn't press the subject and instead informed her that they were leaving and that he'd carry the bags. She'd tuned out what was happening outside the van once she found the grenades, but she figured it best not to pry at that moment, not when he seemed hard pressed to leave.

"That's sweet," She said softly, bracing herself on Brandon's shoulder half-purposely as the crawled out from the hitch, "But now's as good a time as any to start carrying my weight, right? I don't want to be a burden."
She smiled once more before smoothing out the hem of her dress and pulling the strap of her duffel across her shoulder. "You can hold on to that for awhile, if you want. I don't think I'm exactly the muscle in the couple, huh?" Turning, she began toward the staircase Brandon pointed out, careful to put a little shake in her walk as he followed behind.

She noticed the cameras once more before entering the stairwell, but this time there was no stare down.

Instead, she just offered whoever was behind them a small smile.

** Summer Simms, female no. 21, continued in... And God said, "Man, what are you talking about? I sent you a helicopter and a boat."

[NotAFlyingToy]

Baxter walked a few paces behind her, hiding a small smirk of his own. Gratefulness was a funny thing on a woman. It did weird things to their brains. Not only had she given him a bit of a brush and a come-hither look, he now had her big hammer-scythe - which was a big, fuckoff melee weapon if he'd ever seen one - in his grip.

Nothing wrong with intending to partner up for a while, Baxter mused. And she was right; he was definitely the most designated of defenders in this situation.

Following behind her, he played lookout, his gaze sweeping the parking lot for any more threats as they made their way towards the stairs. Theo and Joey were gone, which made his hands somewhat itch. He needed more weapons, a bigger arsenal. This thing, while undoubtedly awesome, wasn't too great at the close-range fighting, and it wasn't like he could chuck it at someone who was standing at a distance. For now, though, he was content in his role as 'big strong man' to Summer's weakling female.

And if his eyes occasionally wandered to admire the curves of Miss Simms' wonderful backside, well...

He was only human.

((Brandon Baxter, continued in And God said, "Man, what are you talking about? I sent you a helicopter and a boat!".))