Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Camilla opened her eyes to a wooden floor.

[G010, Camilla Bell - START]

Her hand brushed its fingers against a duffel bag. She blinked. Why was she here, again? A faint odor lurked in the air, but was not quite there, like a ghost. She could ask that about a lot of things. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the bus and having this dream of waking up tied to a chair or something, and the Actual Danya was rambling about how they got put into sotf-

No. Nononono.

Immediately she jerked up to a sitting position, and her breath began to shake even as it took in more and more air. Yet, her lungs could never reach their height in their shrunken panic. It wasn't a dream. She looked to the duffel bag again. It had some sort of code on it, G010. She supposed it was hers. Her hand raced to open and rummage through it, and pulled out the first metal-ish object she felt, and held it defensively against her chest. Alas, it was only a walkie talkie. At that realization, she gently placed it to the side, and began to browse through the contents of the bag again, this time slower, and methodically.

Some kind of food bar (and a bunch of them), a cracker tin, a loaf of bread. Another one. Good, that meant plenty of food.
Another walkie talkie, and a manual for it. Could be useful. She set that aside with the other one she had removed.
A map, a flashlight, a compass. At least she won't be hopelessly lost. She could only bitterly smile, remembering the last time she forgot a map when exploring, when in possession of a flashlight.
A first aid kit. Will definitely come in handy. And underneath that was some brochure called "Mr Danya's Guide to Survival". Camilla figured how to survive was easy enough- don't get murdered. Avoid anyone who might murder her. That would be a good plan for now. She can ride it through the game without-

No, no she can't. If she was to leave, someone was to die at her hand. Her heart sank- even more on realizing that she still had not found a weapon. That was until she noticed the extra duffel bag, and immediately unzipped that one to examine its contents.

Just the keychain she had in her side-bag on the trip after getting it from a gift shop. Damn. Now Auntie would never get to see it.

She would never see Auntie again, in all likelihood.

At the thought, she drew in another deep breath. She recalled being hungry on the bus, and reached into her bag for the cracker tin. However, she froze as she grasped the lid. Her fingers trembled.

She looked around her. A series of stalls, probably a stable for horses then. All the normal things for stables were there- shelves of equipment, and a doorway outwards to a green pasture. She couldn't stop staring out into that pasture, out into possibilities. What- or who- else is here?

[MethodicalSlacker]

[Max Rudolph continued from Ich Bin Ein Berliner]

The zoo-like area close to the rice paddies seemed like an adequate, if unsettling, place to start. The two larger buildings would draw the attention of those searching for shelter, as they would hope to find an easily fortified place to stay—precisely what these structures appeared to promise. It was the paths leading up to them that drew his attention. That, and the stables, smaller buildings off to the side. He could find a hiding place within and stake out the approach for those he knew would follow his words, give an oath to his cause, and join him in his noble pursuits.

With one bag slung over his shoulder—the second had been discarded shortly after it was located, its only possibly useful contents (a shirt and some socks) moved to the ration-bag—and his man-catcher gripped tightly in his hands, gaping maw pointed down and out, he crept through the doorway into the stables, lightly pushing the door open with his foot.

However, it appeared instantly that there was no consideration for stealth necessary, for a girl was sprawled out on the ground before him. Judging from her seated position, she had likely not yet shaken off the soporific effects of the sleeping gas. It was important, if he meant to make a good impression, that he attempt not to appear threatening. However possible that was with such an evil implement in his grasp, he did not know, but carefully chosen words could offset bad appearances. He moved the man-catcher to his right hand and set it down like a staff, teeth pointed straight towards the ceiling.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

[TheLordOfAwesome]

[B025: Lucas Abernathy - START

Lucas groggily opened his eyes, sitting up and placing a hand on his head. God did it hurt...

"Man, I had a real fucked up dr-" He stopped in his tracks as he looked around. He found himself in some kind of building, a stable in fact.

He sat frozen for a moment as the gears in his head ticked, until his eyes widened in fear as realization finally hit him. He reached up to his neck and felt the cold metal band attached to his neck. Oh fuck. This was real. he wasn't on a bus anymore sitting next to his girlfriend, he didn't just dream up being abducted for Survival of the Fittest. He actually was abducted. Ms. Garcia... was actually dead. Shot and killed right in front of him on a fucking stage by some demented psychopath.

Panicked he tried to stand, but stopped when he heard someone's voice just a little ways away from them. He didn't catch what they said but it sounded like a guy. Lucas looked to his side and saw a duffel bag next to him with a tag that read "B025" on it. He guessed that was suppose to be him. He quickly opened up the bag in search for whatever weapon was assigned to him. It didn't take long as the weapon that was given to him took up a good portion of the bag: a shotgun. Lucas had no idea what the make or model was but it was a honest to god shotgun and that's all that mattered really.

Other than that there were a few supplies. Food, water, a couple boxes of ammo for the gun, first aid kit, a little book on SOTF, a fvew other items of importance, and a little instruction booklett about the shotgun — his shotgun.

The fact he had to remember that this weapon was him only settled the reality of the situation and he wasn't sure he liked it. He was scared, terrified even. While he always liked a good scare, it was always good fun not a fucking life or death scenario that he has found himself in. In one fell swoop he went from an ordinary guy in what was basically a teen slice of life flick to being in a horror remake of the Running Man.

And he would have to kill if he ever wanted to get home. To see his family again. To see his mom, his dad, his sisters...

God... That was a fucked up thought. He didn't want to kill. He refused. They expected them to kill because that was the reality of the situation? Well fuck 'em! He would reject their reality and substitute it with his own!

...Except the same couldn't be said for everyone else.

Right not others were out there. Some like him, not wanting to kill, and others... well... Those were the fucked up ones. And he would need to fight them if he ever wanted to go home. To see Camille again.

"Camille..." He whispered to himself. Fuck, she was stuck on this god forsaken place too... Was she okay? He hoped she was. If she died then he wouldn't know what to do. He hadn't even told her that he...

No.

No, she has to be alive. He would find her. But first he has to get out of here.

Sneakingly he reach for the gun and picked it up. The moment the cold metal of the firearm touched his hand he sharply inhaled, holding his breath in. He took the bag's strap and put it around his shoulder and held the gun in his hands. He looked around once more to see if he missed anything. His suitcase wasn't here. Guess that means the assholes responsible for this had it. Fuckers.

He exhaled and crouched, moving over to the exit of the stall he was in, being carefully not to alert whoever it was that was in here with him. He held the gun close, knowing full well he hadn't loaded it, and assuming the terrorists hadn't loaded either. He doesn't want to kill, but he could hope the sight of a gun would scare whoever was here off at the very least. He breathed in and out, trying to psych himself up, his grip tightening on the gun. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

He counted to three in his mind, and pulled from behind his cover, standing to his full height and pointing the shotgun in the direction he heard the voice, and yelled something that was unintelligible to his own ears.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Camilla brought her arms up defensively on hearing someone's voice, and catching sight of... Jesus Christ what even was that gun? She lowered them though, upon realizing what he was saying. Not completely lowered though. And she kept a hand on her duffel bag, as she looked the newcomer in the face.

"Hm? No, I-"

At that moment, she heard someone screaming about putting your hands up and dropping a weapon, she thought. Her first instinct was to yelp in fear and scuttle the best she could so her back was up against a stable door, only for it to swing open at her touch and leave her looking up at the ceiling again. She lifted herself up slightly with an arm and swept her duffel bag back to her with the foot that was near it- hooked it in one of the handles and dragged it over, then clutching it with the right hand. She looked up to the source of the sound- she thought she could vaguely recognize the guy.

"Don't shoot!" were the next coherent words out of her mouth. "I have-"

There was a moment where she drew in a breath, to face the harsh truth.

"I have... nothing," she whispered as she lowered her head again, hoping whoever was holding that gun would take mercy on her.

Here she was on an isolated island, surrounded with people who had weapons and weren't afraid to use them, far away from her friends. Declyn, Drew, Theo, Julien... for the love of god, if they survive at all only one can leave. And was leaving even winning? One of them having to take a life just to get a chance to see their family again, none of them should have to do that. None of them deserved to be here.

She mouthed the words of prayer she had not used in a long time, but no sound came out.

But if anyone of her friends were going to die on this island, let it be her. No, no, she still had family waiting- no, they deserve to leave more. But surely they would want her to live too? At the thoughts that flooded her head, she could only curl up on herself more, dragging the duffel bag with her by virtue of not remembering to let go of it.

It became fully apparent to her the reality of the situation, how she could die with one wrong move.

No, she was going to die.

"I don't want to die..." she whimpered, as she brought the duffel bag towards her and practically hugged it.

[MethodicalSlacker]

Well, this certainly was a predicament.

Max grimaced slightly. There was an enemy hiding in the shadows. Whether allied with this supposedly dainty girl or not, one situation had led him to another. For future events, he had to keep this principle in mind—the despicable use of the innocent as bait was not beyond the strategic capabilities of his adversaries. That alone would lead a less-principled individual to consider themselves outmatched, perhaps. Or, they would attempt to fire first. If Max had been assigned a more lethal weapon, he might have assented to this Lucas' demands. If it meant that he and this innocent girl, Camilla, would leave with their lives, then he might have.

But Max also saw a potential payoff, if he took the gamble that Lucas was not expecting counterattack. He could rely on the surprise of seeing the man-catcher—a terrifying implement by any means—hurtling towards his personal vicinity to catch him off guard. The reward? The earned trust of Camilla, a captive audience for his set of principles, and, if that didn't work out, some supplies for his troubles. The consequence, should he fail? Potentially death.

After a couple seconds, Max decided to let things ride out a little while longer. If Lucas shot, then he would have fired anyway. If he relented, then Max had the option of either talking things out or preemptively striking. In that case, Max had an answer to return to Lucas' incredibly loud request.

"No."

His man-catcher stayed where it was at his side.

[TheLordOfAwesome]

There two people in front of Lucas, Max Rudolph and Camilla Bell. Max Lucas knew very little about, in fact he couldn't think of a time he had any meaningful encounter with the guy. Camilla he had a better idea about, she was that cute chick from the gardening club. He briefly wondered if he had ever asked her out but quickly pushed that thought aside because it was a dumb one, Of course he had. He was 94% sure he had asked every girl in his class out at some point.

This she relented to his demands, showing that she was unarmed. But her sitting on the ground, hugging her bag and whimpering made feel a tinge of guilt at upsetting the poor girl. No doubt she would understand once they cleared this whole thing up. Maybe they'll look back on this and laugh. Assuming they both live long enough to look back on it. Not that he was going to do anything to her or Max. He really didn't want to hurt anybody and they hadn't done anything to him yet.

Max on the other hand just said "no".

"What?" Lucas said in a small voice, genuinely confused. He hadn't actually expected someone to say no. He had a gun after all, normally you are suppose to do what somebody says when they have a gun. At least that's what happened in the movies. "W-Why not?"

Confusion began to override his previous emotional state and he lowered his gun until the barrel pointed at the ground. He just stood there, looking at Max like he was an alien.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Camilla could only hear the laconic exchange between the two boys. She wasn't even sure of their names, not at that moment. At least the confrontation didn't seem overly hostile... no, that was a lie, steadfastly holding onto your weapon without surrender, that was not-

Breathe. That's what she was supposed to do in a situation like this. Yet, her lungs failed her. Of course burying her face in a duffel bag didn't help one bit, but she couldn't bring herself to stop clinging to it, the only steadfast thing in her world as her mind raced a marathon a minute. She pondered closing the door of the stable she ended up in, but figured it wouldn't be much help in an honest-to-god firefight. If that was to happen, nothing could save her except maybe running. But where would she run to? Wherever she could go, someone else could be there, and they could have weapons too, and-

Breathe.

She lifted up her head and inhaled deeply, once. Then she let go of that breath. It didn't change much. She could still feel her fingers twitching, and her heart thumping against her chest. While she could still keep her head up, she looked to the other two boys- then lifted herself back up so she was on one knee, just about ready to get up, but not quite yet. Her hand still firmly clasped a handle of the bag.

That's right. She always supposed to be the level-headed and responsible one. She wasn't allowed to panic like this, that was a stupid mistake, especially now of all times. That's what she kept telling herself, as her eyes darted back and forth between the two strangers, both of them with some sort of firearm. If anything happened, she would run. Run off, find the others, and get them all together.

Of course, her shaky breath betrayed her true intentions for preparing to run. She swallowed, and waited.

[MethodicalSlacker]

A frown slipped through onto Max's countenance. An empty threat. If this Lucas had intended to fire the shotgun, he would have. It appeared to be the situation that Lucas was simply scared out of his wits. An understandable reaction, but no good reason to point a firearm at somebody. Did he not know that it was unwise to point a firearm one did not intend on firing? Trigger discipline was the first thing his father taught him, the couple of times he had been taken to the range.

"Because I don't want to," he replied.

Max swung the man-catcher down and grasped it with both hands, pointing the toothy end at Lucas.

He never liked guns. So cold, so impassive. Yet cleanly efficient. They deprived fights of ideals, reducing them to reaction times and focus—to fights, that was, and nothing more. The man-catcher was something of a perfect weapon, for him. It took the violence out of altercations, and let him simply speak his mind, provided that he could get his enemy into a sufficiently restricted position. He hoped that he did not have to do that to Lucas, here; it would decrease his ethos with Camilla, and it would not play well to the cameras—several of which he had spotted on entrance, sunlight glinting off their lenses. Nowhere was safe from their gaze, it seemed, though he had not expected anything less.

"I would rather you put that thing away," Max explained, "so that we may talk."

[TheLordOfAwesome]

"...But I have a gun." Lucas reasoned, shifting the gun in his hands slightly to emphasis his point. This had taken a weird situation. He wasn't angry or anything, but this was completely different than what he had thought would happen. "This doesn't make any sense!"

He eyed the mancatcher in Max's hands and shifted uncomfortably. That didn't look like it could kill but it would like hurt and Lucas sucks in a fight, and Lucas did want to avoid a fight as long as he could. He only did this because he thought he would be scaring off someone dangerous and all he had was a girl on the floor clearly scared out of her mind and a guy who was pointing a toothy thing at him. Lucas looked around nervously, his fingers rapping on the forend of the shotgun.

"I, uh, really don't want to fight." Lucas said, looking at Camilla with sympathy. "This really didn't go the way I was expecting. I was kinda hoping you'd guys would be scared off and I'd avoid this, I guess? I mean, this thing isn't even loaded." He paused and looked at the shotgun. "I think. I mean, I don't know if those pricks loaded this thing before putting it in the bag and I didn't really check."

That was probably something he shouldn't have mentioned, but these guys didn't seem like they were going to do anything.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Camilla hauled herself onto her feet with her duffel bag over her shoulder, despite believing her knees would betray her stance. The guy with this... toothy gun thing, he might be a problem, but probably only to the other guy. But there was a way out. She could bolt for the door if need be. The other guy seemed alright, non hostile at least, and maybe a bit sympathetic to her plight. For now. It took two to have a gunfight, and she doubted that the unloaded shotgun would stay unloaded for long in event of danger- if it really was unloaded at all.

She had imagined it would be easier to breathe if she stood up straight, but she couldn't notice much of a difference. Despite swallowing a few seconds prior, her throat felt dry again, so she gulped again.

Her eye kept wandering to the exit. She felt like she ought to say something here, but what could she say to defuse the situation? After all, Camilla was never the master of talking herself out of sticky situations. Or talking to people in general, really. All the worse here because now that she thought of it, there was no way to tell if there'd be a fight other than to wait and see how people react.

People. Why do they have to be so hard to read?

"I guess..." she started before shutting her mouth for a second. There was nothing she could say to make it better. Was there? "I don't think any of us want a fight really."

[MethodicalSlacker]

"It's best to always assume that a gun is loaded," Max warned, "so putting that away is something I'd still like for you to do. And, as for the prospects of a potential fight, you would be correct. If you do not intend to fight with me, then I do not intend to fight with you."

He lowered his man-catcher.

At this point, Max was not sure whether he deserved mental congratulations or a reprimand. On one hand, he had successfully and non-violently de-escalated a conflict and quite possibly saved a life through the prevention of the accidental discharge of a firearm. He had done this while only brandishing a non-lethal implement and keeping a tranquil state of mind the entire way through. Lucas had still not gotten rid of the shotgun, but with the affirmation of Max's lack of intent to harm, that was sure to come shortly. If every altercation on this island went this way, then Max would have quite an easy time finding like-minded individuals and drawing them in to his cause. However unlikely that may seem, his success here gave him a shred of optimism for the future.

On the other hand, the entire sequence of events that lead up to this exchange were shameful. He had to reevaluate his plan to use points of interest as bait for an audience. Most of his classmates, he now understood, did not possess the same state of mind he was so fortunate to inherit. They would be panicked, distraught, and violent, and the sight of someone with what amounted to teeth on a stick approaching from the shadows, launching into a long diatribe about morality or whatsoever spiel he planned for his prospective converts, would provoke not curiosity but carnage. If that gun was loaded and in the possession of a more capable marksman—or a more trigger happy individual in general—his journey would have ended with naught but one step.

Regardless, he had the attention of two of his classmates right here, right now. It would be foolish to let it go to waste.

But what was his in-road? What was a natural manner of leading into his point;—that it was worth spending what was likely their final days of life on a dangerous and dirty job?

A light-bulb went off in his head.

Natural.

Max let his facial expression sink into one of disgust. He cast his gaze off at one of the cameras in the corner of the room, pointed at the three of them. He let out a deep sigh, took a hand the man-catcher, and lightly slapped his face.

"So they've already turned us against each other," he remarked, "and so easily, too?"

His brow furrowed, and he grit his teeth.

"Goddammit," Max spat.

[TheLordOfAwesome]

"Right, uh, if you don't mind I want to keep this out in case someone... less willing to talk comes along." Lucas said, holding the shotgun in a position where it wasn't aiming in their direction, finger firmly away from the trigger.

Lucas began to relax a little as Max lowered his weapon... stick... thing. Disaster averted, Lucas guessed. This could have gone so far south so fast had cooler heads not prevailed. Lucas was about 90, maybe 76% sure this thing wasn't loaded, but Max suggesting that he should always consider this thing loaded was probably sound advice. However, it made him more comfortable to have it out. Not that he wanted to press his luck here or anything, he was just more than a little on edge with everything going on. And if this thing was loaded and trouble shows up? Then good, he and introduce trouble to his shotgun.

...He needed to name his shotgun. Lots of people name their weapons and it might help him come to terms that this weapon is his if he named it. Something cool and badass. If he had a Spas-12 he'd call it "Clever Girl". That was something to think on later.

Right now, he was having a (polite?) conversation.

Lucas looked around the room as Max did, looking at each of the cameras. As a tech person who was familiar with these sorts of thing, he was far from impressed from the choice of camera these guys had. They would work as they intended them to, but they weren't exactly top of the line models. Either they were chosen so they could be easily replaced or repaired in case of damage (which would be unavoidable given the scenario they were running) or they didn't have the budget to spring for better cameras. Or maybe it was just what they've had on hand. After all, why fix what ain't broke?

"Yeah, well, take it from me when I say fear is one hell of a motivator." Lucas said, chuckling nervously and adjusting his hat.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Following the other's gaze, Camilla looked up to the camera, right in the glassy black eye it stared at them with. Perhaps she could make out their reflections in the lens, a mirror image of the situation they got themselves in- a snapshot of what everyone back home would be seeing. Oh god, was Auntie watching? What about her parents? She really hoped they weren't.

To shed those thoughts she turned away from the camera. The toothy gun was no longer pointed at anyone- a good sign. But what he said... turning against each other... Did they really turn against each other in that moment? They'd sorted something out, didn't they? There was no indication this would last- no, no, please let them not be enemies or at least- well, maybe the most merciful end to this situation between three nigh-strangers who happened to be classmates was for them to never meet each other again after this point. Somehow, she doubted that was going to be the end result. It could be, the island was probably big enough, and there were plenty of classmates to get mixed up among. Still, she had a hunch.

But going on hunches was stupid. All she could do was pay attention to here and now. And now, the other person was still gripping the shotgun, but he also wasn't pointing it at anyone. And he was right- fear was quite the motivator. Perhaps if she just had a good weapon-

Her eye wandered to and from the toothy gun and the shotgun.

She felt just a twinge of jealousy within, and once she took heed of it, panic rose in her throat again. She swallowed, her throat was eternally parched, and the rain would never reach that desert. As compensation, her brought her other hand over to her duffel bag and grasped it tightly.

Truly, fear was quite the motivator. She would know. So she nodded. Still, she felt like they didn't really turn on each other, not yet. Surely, it would make sense for her to point that out?

"At least none of us did anything stupid?" she consoled mostly herself. She wanted to add her little smile, the Best Medicine, to that statement, but it just wouldn't be there for her.

Now, for the other pressing matter on her mind.

"And uh. I didn't catch either of your names."

[MethodicalSlacker]

"Fair enough," he said to Lucas, "maybe you could watch the door. Just, don't point it at me. It is stre—it stresses me out."

Speaking in this manner was already grating on him, but it was doing a far, far better job of establishing him as a emotional, human agent of change than his usually somewhat monotone, refined manner of carrying himself. He slumped his shoulders, easing up on his posture, letting himself fall into something of a slouch. Max usually enjoyed the feeling of being well-poised at any given moment, but every subtle, nuanced show of weakness counted here.

"I don't understand what everyone has to be so afraid of," Max continued, "We all went to the same school and had the same classes. We should know who to watch out for, and we should know who our friends are. Why, then, do people give in so easily?"

Camilla said some words to the group about taking an ill-advised action, and how glad she was that neither of them had done so. She could not have had the knowledge, the foresight to know how inexplicably wrong this had already gone for Max. He was doing a mess of bungling through his first encounter. They were inches, no, mere centimeters from a fatality. Camilla had stood up into the line of fire only after Max had denied Lucas' attempt at a threat. She was never truly in harm's way—just Max's, in the event that he willed himself to lunge at Lucas. She stood between the real combatants, in that scenario. She was an obstacle. Thus, her entitlement to her opinions made Max feel ill.

But, as much as he would appreciate the chance to express any or all of those thoughts and considerations, they would have to wait.

"I'm Max," he said, "and, yeah. That could have gone a lot worse."

Max cast a wistful glance behind him, towards the door.

"I wonder if it already has, somewhere."

[TheLordOfAwesome]

Lucas nodded hesitantly, adjusting his stance so he could keep an eye on the door but also still keep Max and Camille within sight. He guessed he was the lookout now, armed with his likely empty shotgun. While he stood there he held the firearm in one hand and used the other to open and dig through the duffel bag and pulled out the instruction book on his gun. Might as well read up on the... Mossberg 500. Well at least he knew what kind of shotgun he had. He opened up the book, holding it in one hand, occasionally peering towards his new found companions.

Lucas gave Camilla a sheepish smile as she asked who they were. It didn't surprised that she wouldn't remember their encounter, after all, he tends to forget who he has asked out in the past.

"I'm Lucas." He paused before adding, "Abernathy. I, uh, asked you out once a while back. Probably don't remember that."

Lucas glanced back to Max. "What's there not to be afraid of?" He reasoned. "Fear and horror had always been favorite subjects of mine, and doing some looking around it became rather clear to me that most choices people make are based, in some capacity, on fears. Fear of being alone makes people seek out romantic attachments, fear of death makes people go to the doctor, so on and so forth. Even the monsters in stories are representations of fears."

He looked at one of the cheap, non-reinforced cameras that the terrorists had set up in the stable and grimaced at it. "So after being kidnapped, seeing an authority figure shot in front of them, shown a video of people who use to be friends killing each other, then told the only way to get home is if they also do that or else they'll all die, does it really surprise you that people would start losing it?"

Lucas looked at the instruction book, reading a few sentences. He paused and looked back at his gun, looking at the upper rear of the receiver. He found the safety which was thankfully on. So even if he had pulled the trigger and the thing was loaded nothing would happen. At least that's what he thought. He knew very little about guns.