The very basic will to live

[Jotun†]

The human animal has been both blessed and cursed with a unique range of complicated emotions, to help us define our goals as individuals. Happiness exists to show us what we need - we are most happy when we have done something we wish to continue doing, or as a reward for doing something we knew we must. Happiness leads to contentment. As people, our goal is to find contentment. Few realize this, as equally few are ever truly content. Sadness happens when we've lost or failed to gain something we feel we need, and it so encourages, or rather, punishes us for failure. Sadness leads to depression and despair, which happens to ensure we stop failing and make way for those who succeed. Two opposite spectrums, but they don't tell everything. Also critical, perhaps the most critical emotion of all, is fear. Fear is the most basic animal instinct, it tells of danger, it tells us when to run. It also, however, stops us acting when we should to achieve happiness, or contentment. Make no mistake - fear is important and should be heeded. It also, however, needs to be controlled.

Felix could not describe what he was feeling. He certaintly was not in a good mood, but unexplainably, it was not a bad one either. There was some anger, certaintly, at being made as vulnerable as he was - on an island full of potentially deadly classmates armed with only a hammer, and unlike other spots Felix got in, he did not enter this one prepared. He would prepare himself regardless. He was somewhat saddened by the impending mass-murder, an island full of corpses was sure to be depressing. What was truly beyond description about Felix's emotions on the matter, was that he was at peace. He was usually at peace, but this was a drastic change of situation with very few positive outcomes. Even more, he felt a kind of pleasent apprehension, one he normally associated with the chaos he tried to inject into everything around him. Regardless, he simply could not explain the dejected reaction he had to the situation.

Don't think about what you feel, just feel it.

And he was willing to accept that.

****
Perhaps only pretending to drink the water WAS a wasted effort.

Felix was in an interesting situation. He was told rather violently to drink the water. After watching his homeroom teacher raped and a video giving distrubing detail to exactly what his situation was, Felix was not inclined to drink anything they gave him. Shortly after he faked drinking it, slowly dribbling it down his chin and into shirt to at least slightly empty the bottle, his classmates started passing out, and Felix thought it might have been easier to just drink it. Regardless, he pretended to pass out so he didn't stick out so badly.

Here he was, on a helicopter with several other students sleeping peacefully, and at least one, probably two men, likely armed. Had he a gun, or any chance of survival, Felix would've hijacked the helicopter right there. As it stood, he preferred to not get shot and live at least long enough to make a realistic attempt at survival in the long-term. At regular intervals students were tossed out of the vehicle, and Felix felt hands on him signalling it was his turn. Thinking it would be a funny thing to do, he went completely limp and tried rolling back to the floor. After a pointless struggle Felix amused himself with, he allowed himself to be tossed out of the vehicle. Felix opened his eyes, reacted instinctively to his height, put his feet under him to land. The shock stunned him for the moment, but he recovered gracefully by falling over into a roll and getting back onto his feet, standing tall. He looked up and waited for his bags, catching his backpack by the strap, his duffelbag falling to the ground next to him.

*****

Felix hadn't moved very far in the span of ten minutes. He took to wandering around the area - decorated solely by a large abadnoned factory and an equally abandoned though far smellier former slaughterhouse - and thinking about his course of action in the game. He had abandoned the bag filled with mostly only his clothes. The more valuable things were now in his backpack or had been in his pockets the entire time.

It did not take long for Felix to reach his ultimate conclusion on Survival of the Fittest. Unimportantly, he found the apparent philosophy behind it flawed. More imminently, he had determined his course of action. The people who forced him and others into this situation were not within reach, not if they were truly intelligent. The root of his troubles was not available to sever, so he would wait for the moment of oppurtunity. And until then, he would survive at any cost.

Holding the hammer in his hand, he spun it in place before inserting it showily into the beltloop of his jeans. Moving on, armed with only a blunt object and his wits, Felix went to search. Either for someone to kill, or for someone to die in his place... or perhaps, for death itself.

"Echo!" he screamed into the sky, listening to it resound back to him with amusement as he chose a direction.

[Cyco†]

((Continued from Don't Panic))

Swainson let out a cry of surprise, turned on his heel and pointed the minute Glock 27 towards the piercing sound that filled the area for a moment, then died away steadily. His hand shook, and the handle of his designated weapon was already slick with sweat from his palms. He had just started to calm down, and now this? Who the hell shouts 'ECHO!' when they're surrounded by people ready to tear them limb from fucking limb? It definately wasn't Nich; it sounded nothing like him. Andrew wouldn't dare risk negotiating with him, much less stick his head out to take a look. Not when he had a good enough weapon that he'd give away his position like that. Either he was packing some serious heat, or he was a total fucking idiot.

'Wait,' Andrew thought, 'Wait...I can take advantage of this. Maybe I can get the jump on him and blow his fucking head off before he even knows what hit him. Maybe...maybe I can kill him and take his weapon. He doesn't know I'm here...does he?' A look of terror came over Swainson's face, but he quickly shook his head and dismissed it. 'Come on, Swainson, get it together. There's no way he could've seen you. You just entered from the opposite gate. Dumb shit,' he scolded himself, wiping sweat off his brow and adjusting his cap. He tried his best to slow down his breathing, but it wasn't working. He didn't want to risk stepping out into the open where that guy was waiting...

'R-right, no problem, no prob...' he thought, gathering up his courage and making his way silently to the corner of a small portable in the middle of the factory yard. It, combined with the fence and a large pile of tires, had acted as an efficient wall between him and his adversary, and for that he was grateful. He approached the corner and pressed himself flat against the wall of the portable, raising the Glock to eye level beside him. He was gonna get that fucker before he got him. He listened intently and tried not to make the slightest sound. Swainson was kind of unsure of what to do next, but he could hazard a guess.

[Jotun†]

Felix picked up his pace, hoping to get into cover and catch someone who had heard his yell on the way out. He didn't care if they came looking for blood or numbers, both would have worked. He kept careful watch of his surroundings as he made his way to the edge of the area, past a run-down portable and into cover. At least, that was the plan. Something happened very quickly. Felix walked past the portable and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

The whole situation seemed to flow into Felix's perspective faster than light. The gun, base don it's square frame, was a glock. It's wielder was a smaller than Felix, though a fellow redhead who was extremely tense and jumpy and seemed to have the fullest intention on blowing Felix's head of. Unfortunately, though Felix was fast, he was not as fast as his thinking was and he was completely off-guard.

[Cyco†]

It had worked; the poor chump had fallen right into his clutches. Swainson was ready for him. A smile met halfway with a grimace on his twisted visage, and Andrew pulled the trigger, revelling in his own primal instincts for a split-second...and tasting the agony of carelessness the next.

Unfortunately, in his haste to get out of the open earlier, Andrew had been oblivious to the fact that the safety on his Glock was still on. The trigger refused to plunge. The element of surprise had been flushed down the ol' toilet because he'd made a rookie's mistake.

Panic set in during the following moment, and Swainson's first instinct was to toggle the safety switch off. He fumbled desperately with the Glock, trying to correct his mistake as quickly as possible.

[Jotun†]

Somehow, the half-moment of tension didn't last. Felix was staring death in the eye, for a brief time. And then the devil's gun didn't fire.

There was something humourous about the scene. As soon as Felix saw his assailent's eyes harden, he'd thought he was dead. And then he wasn't. A second later, he still wasn't. Felix's eyes moved to the safety lever above the trigger. The safety was switched on. Felix grinned.

"That's adorable." He said, both patronizing and threatening in the same two words.

This boy had just attempted to kill him. If Felix had his way, he'd come as close as to dying as he ever would in this hellhole. Deciding it was time to defend himself, Felix grabbed the boy's wrist and slammed it against the wall of the portable, forcing his grip to release the gun. Catching the gun in his right hand, Felix pointed it at his victim, quickly flipped the lever and pulled the trigger, uncaring about the boy's quickly cut fate.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Felix looked at the gun, apprently unloaded, then looked back at the boy he'd just attempted to murder, who had made the incredible oversight in the first place.

"You're a fucking idiot." Felix couldn't help but be amused just the same, and he then attemped to pistol whip the boy across the bridge of his nose to make up for not having shot him.

[Cyco†]

This was not going well.

Andrew let out a yelp as the small yet solid butt of the subcompact flew towards his face, but with a combination of luck and panicy reflexes, he managed to throw his left shoulder inwards and narrowly dodge the attack. He now had his front pressed against the portable wall, his hand still pinned by the other boy's firm grip. The attack had missed, but he sure as hell wasn't risking another one. Andrew scrambled in between Felix and the wall, ducking under his arm and making a break away from him. However, his arm was still firmly held in place, and he was unsuccessful in his attempt to break his adversary's grip. Swainson's arm acted as an anchor and he was jerked back fiercely; his feet flew up in the air in front of him and he landed flat on his back with an unpleasant thud, not to mention an exclaimation of surprise and alarm.

"--fuck!!"

[Jotun†]

It was not terribly difficult to restrain the panicking twerp and manhandle him onto the ground. He was smaller, less controlled. Felix might've had to try harder if he kept a cool head, but as it was it wasn't very difficult to stop him getting away. Felix saw an oppurutnity in the brat's helplessness, however. Felix kept hold of his wrist and droppe dhis knee on top of the boy's chest, holding him down. He put the gun in the back of his jeans, not worried about it going off becuase it wasn't loaded, and drew his hammer from his belt loop. Felix raised it, and, with his wrist and arm helping it along, brought the hammer down, right next to the boy's head.

"Listen up." Felix was stern, yet his order seemed to purr instead of bark. Still satisifed he was intimidating, he continued. "I'll let you walk away if you give me your bag and the ammo for your gun. You don't die that way. Otherwise, I'll crush your skull." Felix gently tapped the boy on the forehead with the hammer to make his point.

[Cyco†]

The falling knee effectively knocked the wind out of him, and when the stranger finally offerred him an ultimatum, all Andrew could do was wheeze, cough and nod. When the coughing subsided, he gestured with his head towards the pack leaning against the portable wall.

'That went well,' he thought, hoping that the assailant would relieve the pressure from his chest soon. He'd just screwed himself over twice as bad as before.

[Jotun†]

It had been lucky enough that Felix was not killed, but it was outright amazing this situation had gone as well as it had. Putting the Hammer back in it's loop, Felix pushed down hard to help himself up.

"Get up from that spot for anything less than to save your own life, and I'll start feeding you your teeth." How pleased Felix was with the current arrangements leaked int his threat, making him sound genuinly sadistic. Felix went to check the bag. Buried under the usual provisions was two magazines of nine millimeter bullets, totalling thirty-four bullets. Redarwing the gun from his pants, Felix loaded it with one of the magazines and closed the bag, shouldering it with his own. Tunring the safety of the weapon abck on, Felix returned it to the position in the small of his back and prepared to leave.

"You want some advice?" Felix offered over his shoulder. "You have no food, water or weapons. Were I you, and thank god I'm not, I'd keep a cool head and maybe try talking things out. or, hey, just be better at killing. Whatever works for you, champ."

[Cyco†]

The only thing was, Andrew wasn't there. He'd scrambled to his feet and darted off around the corner of the portable and out of sight the second Felix had turned his back, not stopping even to grab his own duffle bag. He didn't make the slightest attempt to try to warn Felix of the guy with the shotgun...

((Continued in Don't Panic))

~~~

((continued from Built to Survive))

Bryan made his way through the gate of the industrial yard and saw two assholes scuffling with eachother in the distance. They didn't seem to notice him; they were too busy dealing with eachother to even look his way. He broke into a jog, trying to close as much distance between him and the two before they noticed him and he would have to take the shot. A low clunking sound issued from both his pack and his SPAS-12, which forced him to slow his approach a bit to ease the noise.

At this point the little twerpy guy spotted him and bolted. Bryan sped up again, closing quick on the remaining boy; he was a little over 30 feet away. He suddenly noticed that the stranger was in posession of a handgun. There was no way to halt his attack though, not now that he'd committed to it so thoroughly. Plus, in a second the boy would most likely spot him, considering the noise his gear was making.

There was a small, broken-down truck off to the side he could use for cover. Bryan kept his eyes locked on his target, raising the shotgun to gut-level and aiming as best he could. The way the boy was turning, he would see him any millisecond now. Just as he came up beside the truck, he halted to brace himself; he decided it was better to overestimate the recoil than under. He squeezed the trigger firmly and a mighty roar issued from the weapon as he fired his first shot, after which he immediately pulled off of his beeline and sidestepped hurriedly behind the rear of the old truck, pumping the SPAS and ejecting the used cartridge from the barrel. He had quite a surge of adrenaline going, and did his best to keep himself from charging out again like a fucking lunatic. Instead he brought the gun to eye-level and poked it out again, ready to fire another round.

[Jotun†]

Felix only noticed as he finished talking, the now-distant puttering of footsteps on cement. Turning around, he saw that the other guy had run off. Felix immediately realized he was scared and ran off, and shrugging, Felix made to leave again. Except he realized that the guy could not have been scared of Felix, because Felix said he was not going to kill him. And was already getting ready to leave. He heard more footsteps, these ones getting closer, and accompanied by the shuffling of a bag. Felix turned.

Another guy - a bigger one, even, was moving to take cover around a truck, his eyes set on Felix. Felix could not see very well from the distance, but he held some sort of shotgun, and judging by it's shorter length, it was made for combat. And it he was pointing it right at Felix. Felix dove onto his hands and knees, heard the sounds of metal on metal as the buckshot collided with the portable's sheet metal walls behind him, followed very closely by the sound of the shot itself. On his hands and knees, Felix scrambled around the corner of the portable, recovering and drawing his own weapon.

He pulled the slide back, chambering the first round. His muscles tightened with anticipation, and Felix quickly spun around on his feet, crouching, and aimed for his aggressor, both hands holding the gun. To Felix, it seemed to take forever to aim, but somehow he knew it was only about half a second. He pulled the trigger and moved back into his hiding place, hearing the distant shatter of glass indicating his bullet hit the truck's braking light.

He knew he could not really fight this out. A Glock was well-suited to greater ranged combat, but Felix had never used a handgun in his life. Granted, he knew how to - but he had never practiced. A shotgun wouldn't kill him from the distance his enemy was at, but it would cripple him, leaving him vulnerable for the rest of the stay on the island, and possible allowing the shotgun's wielder to move in close. Eying the opposite end of the area, there was a gate through the chain-link fence, likely where the Glock's former owner ran off to. There was quite a bit of cover between here and there, and for a time Felix would have the portable he was hiding behind now covering him completely. Readying himself, Felix took off for the gate, the fastest 100 meter dash he would hopefully ever have to make in his life...

((Continued in What do you...?))

[Cyco†]

The first shot had missed. As Bryan peered out from behind the safety of the truck, he couldn't see head or tail of his opponent. That is until the bastard poked out from behind the portable and fired a shot into the tail light adjacent to him. It exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, and Bryan pulled back behind the truck, cursing softly. It would've been far too late if the shot had been just a little more accurate. He'd have to be more careful.

He couldn't be sure whether the boy was still standing there with his semi-automatic, waiting for him to pop out like a game of whack-a-mole, so he threw himself down on his stomach and peered through the sizeable gap between the frame of the truck and the ground. Once again, nobody was there.

"Where are you, you little creep..." Bryan whispered, gritting his teeth together. His heart was really going now; it was quite a rush. He waited for a couple seconds, but still no one appeared. What was up? It quickly dawned on him that the sneaky sonofabitch might be making his way around to ambush him, and he got swiftly to his feet to check his flank around the front of the truck. Nothing.

He dashed back around to his original spot and peeked out again. Still no sign of him. It was a gamble, but he quickly decided to pursue the stranger. There was no time to think twice; he could be giving him the slip right now. Bryan shot out from behind the truck and made a run for the portable, although he certainly wasn't going around the corner the two boys had dissappeared behind. He wasn't a dipshit.

Bryan made it to the portable without getting his head blown off, which he concluded was a good thing. He made for the corner, hugging the wall just as he approached it. With an extra helping of gut rage, he stepped out and raised the SPAS-12, only to see his prey halfway to the opposite gate. He snarled and followed him with the sight, trying to get a good shot in, but there was too much shit in the way to do so. The runner appeared from behind the debris one last time and Bryan fired another shot, but it was way off. Within seconds, he was out of sight.

Bryan pumped the shotgun again and spat. "Damn."

[Endless_Helix†]

<<Continued from The Time of My Life>>

Harry Constantine had stumbled into a fight. Possibly the last thing he wanted to be in right now. He'd been walking inland, looking for someone to team up with, and he found this abandoned factory. He'd been reading and walking at the same time. He clicked the saftey off on his Agram and set it to semi auto, like the manual had said; he'd already cocked it.  Now Harry had never fired a gun in his life, and consequently was very nervous.

What the hell?! Don't these people get it? The grown-ups are the enemy! Not the kids!

And with that Harry charged through the gate behind the boy with the shotgun, yelling,

"Freeze! Drop your weapons and hug the wall!"

[Cyco†]

Bryan wheeled around and squinted towards the gun-toting stranger charging through the gate behind him. He'd certainly gotten the drop on him, but still, it was hard to take orders from someone that far away. Bryan didn't bother to dignify him with a response, but instead bolted back to the cover of the truck's opposite side, which fortunately was not a difficult task. The angle between him and Mr Subtlety over there was cut off by the old Chevy in a mere two steps, and Bryan was soon safely under cover again, his back pressed against the side of the truck and his weapon raised.

'I don't believe this,' he thought, shaking his head. If that guy had taken a more silent approach, he probably wouldn't even of noticed him. He'd be a bullet-ridden corpse by now. Bryan hastily wiped sweat off his forehead with his palm, returning it immediately to the handle of the gun, which he gripped firmly with new resolve. 'If I'm gonna have any chance of survival,' he thought, 'I'm gonna have to tighten up the screws a bit.' He'd already made two big fuck-ups: first when he'd kept his head out for too long, and second when he'd kept his back open for too long. He was gonna get shot soon if he wasn't more careful.

He could just stand there beating himself up until this asshole rounded the corner and wasted him, but then he'd just be contradicting himself, not to mention dead. Bryan poked out from behind the rear of the truck, this time facing the exect opposite way he was when he made that first mistake. Accordingly, this time would be the exact opposite of last, he decided. He crouched down much more than last time and let the muzzle of the gun lead the way. He attempted to keep from sticking his head too far out. And if he didn't see the boy right away, he'd pull himself right back in and make another move. He'd survive this game if it killed him, goddamn it.

[Endless_Helix†]

FUCK!

The guy was way too far away for that to work. Harry watched as the kid ran for cover behind an old truck. In all honesty it probably wasn't the best move to run in, guns blazing.  The truck was a fairly recent model, roughly from the eighties, which means that it had all the saftey features, but very thin metal on the outside. It probably wouldn't hold up to close range SMG fire. Also, Harry could see the kid's legs underneath the truck, a little bit.

"If you come out now, you're not going to be hurt. We aren't enemies. It's the terrorists! If we all banded together and worked to find a way out... We could probably do it! Get off the island without killing!" Harry was sweating bullets, he was still in the open, and this kid seemed to be playing... Just to be on the safe side he better get under cover. There was a large green dumpster about 30 feet away, full of something reflective.

"Come on! Do you really want to have blood on your hands?" and with that Harry picked up a loose bolt and threw it at a car close to the shotgun-totter. Then he got behind the  dumpster as quickly as possible, blood hurtling through his veins.

This should block the fucker from seeing me, Harry panted as quietly as he could, back to the dumpster, I wonder what's in this dumpster?