Four Students Remaining.
So this is it. I...I can't even believe it, myself. I'm here in the final four, and everyone else is pretty much armed to the teeth. Wonderful.
As Sidney Crosby stepped over what he had guessed to be the dividing line between the Warehouse and the River, he heard his collar 're-activate' itself with a resounding beep, one that send a shiver down his spine. Once he'd heard the device somewhat deactivate himself, he'd pondered trying to take it off, but just because Danya had deactivated the danger zone part of it didn't mean that he'd deactivated the whole 'take it off and your head explodes' part. So when he stepped into the River for what would likely be the last time, he shivered involuntarily. With all that he'd been through, he figured that it was only natural.
Stepping into the outskirts of the River, he glanced down at the map in his hands. The River was a fairly large zone on the island, and in fact ran the entire length of the river itself, with a portion jutting out into the clearing and the small bridge that found itself near to the warehouse, where he'd first encountered - of all people, Adam Dodd and Cody Jenson. Strange, he figured, how the two people who I first met up with at the river, under completely different circumstances, are now coming back for one final showdown - at the very place that our 'fates intertwined'. Shaking his head, he nervously checked his pistol again.
He had four clips. He'd managed to grab a few off of some corpses that he'd discovered along the way, but it was still rather unsettling. He knew that Jack probably still carried his original weapon - the knife, and whatever weapons that he'd managed to scavenge from the terrorist he'd killed. Adam Dodd was armed to the teeth, especially if what he'd heard on the announcements was true about him having the largest kill-count. Cody Jenson was a predator if he was armed or not - he'd seen him kill a girl with his teeth, and the memory still gave him shivers down his spine.
That memory was something that he'd never forget for as long as he lived - as long or as short a time as that may be.
"How am I doing? How am I doing!?" Sidney's voice raised a few octaves at the question.
"Cody, you just...you just raped and murdered someone...how the hell do you think I'm doing?"
"I would say, that you're ready for evening tea."
Cody then began laughing, his form shaking in its prone position. This caused Madelaine's body to shake a bit, creating a surreal scene. He then stood up and zipped up his pants, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.
"She was good, a real spinner."
This brought another smile to his face, which was still covered with blood.
"I just figured I would enjoy myself, seeing as we're all stuck here. Plus, she gave me this."
Cody gestured to the still bloody wound on the back of his head.
Shivering again, he replayed the scene in his mind's eye. Madelaine Shirohara had been alive and well moments before, and then when Sidney Crosby had wandered off, he'd made the grisly discovery that had haunted him since he'd seen it. He'd never, at the time, guessed Cody Jenson for a rapist. Not at all! As he'd thought at the time, he'd heard the rumours about how Jenson was a locker-room cancer, and how most of his coaches hated him, but ... he'd never known how true that it was until that moment where the two had come face to face. And the revulsion that Cody had spoke with, the anger that had laid upon his face at simply seeing him - it frightened him. It frightened him a lot, because he'd never really known Cody all that well. And if the boy hated him that much...he had figured himself to be in serious trouble (as if he wasn't already).
So here he stood, one member of the final four. He'd outlasted over one hundred other kids to get here, one hundred other people and he was in the final four - and so was Cody Jenson. Sidney wasn't a big believer in fate. He never had been. He always had figured that people created their own destiny. Nothing was ever predestined. But he'd be damned if he didn't find himself rethinking his own philosophies. To be here in the final four with those specific three people raised a lot of red flags - for instance: Adam Dodd had saved his life, very recently, and apparently been raped for his troubles. Adam Dodd had also sworn that he would hunt down and kill Cody Jenson if it cost him his very life - the two girls that Cody'd killed were apparently close friends of his. Cody Jenson had issues with Sidney Crosby, and also with Adam Dodd - though if he knew that he had problems with Dodd was debatable. Then, there was Jack O'Connor. Jack didn't fit in much. Sidney had issues with Jack, stemming back to Jack being such a prick at the warehouse, and threatening him when he'd opted to leave (a move that had likely saved his life). And here he was in the final four as well.
One would think that it would all be predestination. That those four specific people, all with ties to one another, would end up in the final four?
As he thought about it, something became frighteningly clear to him, and it caused him to shiver again (internally, he wondered if the shivering was actually from the wound on his foot, but he pushed that thought into the back of his mind). All of them had specific ties to him, and not necessarily to everyone else. If the four of them faced off, would all three of them go for him first?
I suppose, we'll have to make sure that something like that doesn't happen.
Glancing around, he saw that the area beside the river was surrounded by quite a few sturdy-looking trees. If he could manage to hide in one, and emerge when the big battle was over, he might stand a decent chance of coming out alive - especially if the three others did battle. Hiding, at this point, might be his best perogative.
As he strode into a familiar area - the one that was stained with dried blood, and contained three telltale lumps in the dirt - quite evidently three gravesites, he recalled a tree that he'd slumped down beside. It was well-sheltered, and overlooked the whole valley. If he could manage to climb up there, odds were that he might be able to outwait the big fight. Walking over to the tree, he looked up.
Climbing would prove to be very difficult, and he hoped that he'd be able to manage. Grasping the sides of the tree, Sidney began to shimmy up, very slowly. Much to his surprise, his method, while slow, was working.
I can't believe this, it's almost like it's too good to be true...
He winced as soon as the thought passed through his mind, as a small insect of sorts landed on his face as he looked upwards. Being about six feet off the ground, Sid couldn't help but let out a small little shriek, reaching to brush off the bug, but at the same time losing his grip on the tree and falling to the ground, landing head over heels. As he landed hard on his rear, he managed to dislodge the insect, but fell in the dirt.
Damnit! If anyone heard that and they're anywhere close, I'm a sitting duck.
Sitting up and stretching his neck, Sidney pulled himself to his feet to try again. He'd have to get up there relatively soon. Night was quickly approaching and it was beginning to get cloudy. In a few hours, light would soon be a priviledge that they would soon lose, which would make any wrong moves even more deadly.
Endgame
The roar of the engine of Loretta echoed throughout the entire island as Cody traversed the turns, dips, and uneven terrain of the island. The wind blew wildly in his short hair, which had grown out quite a bit from the barely-there haircut he had adorned during the hockey season. He felt completely free as he glided carelessly across the island at full-speed, hitting bumps and ramping into the air on the rough terrain. For once in his life, Cody Jenson felt something he had never before experienced; Cody felt liberated. Grinning wildly, Cody gunned the engine of the motorcycle and went sailing full-force over the ledge of the lookout point... and for a moment, he genuinely felt as though he was flying.
During the short distance he had walked between the ravine and his final destination, Cody Jenson had been daydreaming. He had been thinking about a time that never was and an event that would never occur. It had all happened when the confining silver collar that encircled his neck had made an awkward beeping noise back at the ravine, signifying that for a short period of time, the collar had become dormant. Never, not once, did it occur to Cody that perhaps he could remove the collar and escape this came. No, Cody Jenson never had any intentions of escaping. Never any intentions of walking away.
A haunting and crackling tune echoed out from the depths of his dehydrated body through his chapped and peeling lips as he strolled haphazardly through the desolate wasteland that the island had become during the past week and a half. The entirety of the land mass was littered with the rotted and half-eaten corpses of the dead, and the stench could only be described in one word: inhumane. The smell of dried blood and rotten carcasses filled Cody's nostrils and he fought back the urge to vomit up the meager portion of food which he had devoured not long before.
As the blonde-haired boy exited the dense thicket of trees he had been wading through and entered the clearing near the river, his eyes widened and he stopped a moment to catch his breath. This place... it seemed like so long ago now that Cody Jenson had been here. This was the place where it had all began. This was the place where he had enacted his retribution against Madelaine Shirohara, and this was the place where he had first smited Adam Dodd. This was the place he had encountered Sidney Crosby after the brutal rape of Madelaine Shirohara. It was at this moment that they all saw Cody Jenson for what he truly was, and the threat that he would surely be.
It all happened here.
"We're going to play a game. Here's how it works. If you scream, you die. If you bite, you die. If you poke, or squeeze, or claw, or don't cooperate, you die. Sound fair?"
Looking out over the horizon, the entire area surrounding the river seemed to have been colored orange by the evening sky. From his position concealed halfway in the thicket of trees he had wandered out from, Cody could see three lumps of fresh dirt rising up from the ground surrounding the river. A sinister smile creeped onto his lips as he spotted them. Surely, three freshly buried bodies lie buried beneath the earth for the worms to feast on. Surely, Cody Jenson was responsible for the deaths of two of the three corpses buried in the shallow and poorly-crafted graves.
"I just wanted to let you know... I never planned on letting you go.
He remembered this place, these events, almost as vividly as the day he had lived them. He had relived the moments again and again in his mind, from his brutal rape of Madelaine Shirohara to his encounter with Sidney Crosby to the stray bullet that resulted in the death of Adam Dodd's one true treasure. Even now, as he stood there gazing out into the silent and seemingly unoccupied river, he recalled these events with stunning clarity. Somehow, though, it all seemed so surreal. Like a dream. Maybe... maybe everything was just a dream? Perhaps none of this was real.
"...Cody? Cody, what...what are you doing? I..."
No, this was real. This was fate. This place, this event, this moment... it was all fate. Cody had been playing into the hands of destiny this entire time. Everyone here had been playing right into destiny's greedy palms. Only Cody knew, though. He knew even then what the events that had transpired would result in. Now, as he stood on the river which had once before been a colossal battlefield, he couldn't help but smile to himself. It was only fitting that the last battle be fought in this place. There had been many before this, but this one... this one would be the battle that would end the war. This battle would determine who the one true winner of Survival of the Fittest was. This battle, an epic collision between Gods on this island, it was predestined. Now, Cody Jenson was on the brink of war.
"It's no wonder you never made the junior team, because all the coaches knew you were fucking bananas!"
Finally venturing out from his hiding place in the thicket, Cody reflexively let the shotgun he had acquired from Clemence drop to his side, instead removing the smaller firearm he had tucked away in the front of his pants. After turning off the safety, Cody proceeded into the nearby area of the river, his knuckles clinging so tightly to the small firearm in his palm that his entire hand had begun to turn a pale peach, almost white, in color. A solitary bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, eventually running in between his eyes and the length of his nose before finally dropping off the end and splashing down onto his bare chest. Cody didn't care about that, though. All he cared about was finishing this game once and for all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving. Someone was already here. Perfect. His eyes darted around wildly as he slowly stalked toward his prey at a silent pace, and then, Cody Jenson began smiling. It started out as a lop-sided smile that formed on only one corner of his lip. Eventually, however, the smile grew until the corners on both sides of Cody's lips were raised into a sinister arch. The smile only grew from there, Cody's lips parting to reveal the pearly-white teeth that lay behind them. The very person that he saw scurrying desperately up the nearby tree was him. So it really was destiny, after all.
"Sidney fucking Crosby!" Cody shouted with glee.
Raising the small handgun up to within aiming distance, Cody pulled the trigger, sending a solitary bullet flying toward Sidney. Luckily enough for Crosby, Cody had purposely missed, and the bullet embedded itself in the tree just above Sidney, sending wood chips flying from the century-old tree bark as it pounded into the tree, embedding itself inside. The maniacal smile never left Cody's face as he looked at him, his gun still pointed high in his shaking hands.
"It really is destiny, you fool! It really is! You'll meet your end, Sidney Crosby. You'll meet it by my hand!"
Stalking forward a bit, Cody fired another bullet wildly, not taking the time to even properly aim his gun. He wasn't looking to take Sidney Crosby out with the small firearm he currently wielded. Oh, no. Sidney Crosby deserved a fate much worse than a quick and painless death. Sidney deserved to be tortured. He deserved to have his body hacked limb from limb with the handaxe Cody currently had strapped to his back. Cody would make him suffer. He would make him pay for the constant upstagging, the constant outdoing. Cackling softly, Cody continued to stalk toward his fellow hockey player.
"Always better than me. Always trying to outdo me, Crosby. Trying to prove you were better than me. You're NOT better than me! Do you hear me?! You're not better! I'm the best! I'm better than you could ever dream of being! I'll prove it, Sidney Crosby. I'll prove it here and now! I'm better than you, god dammit! I'm BETTER!"
Firing off another round toward Sidney, Cody flicked the safety on swiftly before shoving the handgun down the front of his pants. In one swift movement, he had undone the handaxe that had been tied to his back and now wielded the blood-covered weapon in his hand. A menacing gleam passed over Cody's glazed-over eyes as he looked at Sidney Crosby. Before him stood a man he'd hated for years. A man who upstagged him at every turn. A man who surprassed him at every corner. Now, Cody had the chance to prove to Sidney Crosby, to himself, and to the entire world that he was better than the sniveling coward before him. Now, the tables had turned. Now, they were playing by his rules. Now... was his time to shine.
"DIE!"
The single word echoed throughout the clearing as Cody Jenson took off in a full-on sprint from where he had been standing. Wheeling the handaxe back in the air as he ran, Cody never faltered. His vision focused purely on Sidney Crosby, and he saw nothing else. Crosby would die a slow and painful death at his hands. This was how it was meant to be. He would eliminate Crosby from the final four before the other two contestants ever arrived. You can't be late to a competition, you know. That's how you get disqualified... taken out of the running. In Sidney's case, he should've probably been late. Without any hesitation or remorse, Cody Jenson swung down wildly with the axe he wielded in his hands, hoping to connect with the form of Sidney Crosby.
It comes down to this... I'll prove I'm better than you, Sidney. I was always better than you.
During the short distance he had walked between the ravine and his final destination, Cody Jenson had been daydreaming. He had been thinking about a time that never was and an event that would never occur. It had all happened when the confining silver collar that encircled his neck had made an awkward beeping noise back at the ravine, signifying that for a short period of time, the collar had become dormant. Never, not once, did it occur to Cody that perhaps he could remove the collar and escape this came. No, Cody Jenson never had any intentions of escaping. Never any intentions of walking away.
A haunting and crackling tune echoed out from the depths of his dehydrated body through his chapped and peeling lips as he strolled haphazardly through the desolate wasteland that the island had become during the past week and a half. The entirety of the land mass was littered with the rotted and half-eaten corpses of the dead, and the stench could only be described in one word: inhumane. The smell of dried blood and rotten carcasses filled Cody's nostrils and he fought back the urge to vomit up the meager portion of food which he had devoured not long before.
As the blonde-haired boy exited the dense thicket of trees he had been wading through and entered the clearing near the river, his eyes widened and he stopped a moment to catch his breath. This place... it seemed like so long ago now that Cody Jenson had been here. This was the place where it had all began. This was the place where he had enacted his retribution against Madelaine Shirohara, and this was the place where he had first smited Adam Dodd. This was the place he had encountered Sidney Crosby after the brutal rape of Madelaine Shirohara. It was at this moment that they all saw Cody Jenson for what he truly was, and the threat that he would surely be.
It all happened here.
"We're going to play a game. Here's how it works. If you scream, you die. If you bite, you die. If you poke, or squeeze, or claw, or don't cooperate, you die. Sound fair?"
Looking out over the horizon, the entire area surrounding the river seemed to have been colored orange by the evening sky. From his position concealed halfway in the thicket of trees he had wandered out from, Cody could see three lumps of fresh dirt rising up from the ground surrounding the river. A sinister smile creeped onto his lips as he spotted them. Surely, three freshly buried bodies lie buried beneath the earth for the worms to feast on. Surely, Cody Jenson was responsible for the deaths of two of the three corpses buried in the shallow and poorly-crafted graves.
"I just wanted to let you know... I never planned on letting you go.
He remembered this place, these events, almost as vividly as the day he had lived them. He had relived the moments again and again in his mind, from his brutal rape of Madelaine Shirohara to his encounter with Sidney Crosby to the stray bullet that resulted in the death of Adam Dodd's one true treasure. Even now, as he stood there gazing out into the silent and seemingly unoccupied river, he recalled these events with stunning clarity. Somehow, though, it all seemed so surreal. Like a dream. Maybe... maybe everything was just a dream? Perhaps none of this was real.
"...Cody? Cody, what...what are you doing? I..."
No, this was real. This was fate. This place, this event, this moment... it was all fate. Cody had been playing into the hands of destiny this entire time. Everyone here had been playing right into destiny's greedy palms. Only Cody knew, though. He knew even then what the events that had transpired would result in. Now, as he stood on the river which had once before been a colossal battlefield, he couldn't help but smile to himself. It was only fitting that the last battle be fought in this place. There had been many before this, but this one... this one would be the battle that would end the war. This battle would determine who the one true winner of Survival of the Fittest was. This battle, an epic collision between Gods on this island, it was predestined. Now, Cody Jenson was on the brink of war.
"It's no wonder you never made the junior team, because all the coaches knew you were fucking bananas!"
Finally venturing out from his hiding place in the thicket, Cody reflexively let the shotgun he had acquired from Clemence drop to his side, instead removing the smaller firearm he had tucked away in the front of his pants. After turning off the safety, Cody proceeded into the nearby area of the river, his knuckles clinging so tightly to the small firearm in his palm that his entire hand had begun to turn a pale peach, almost white, in color. A solitary bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, eventually running in between his eyes and the length of his nose before finally dropping off the end and splashing down onto his bare chest. Cody didn't care about that, though. All he cared about was finishing this game once and for all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving. Someone was already here. Perfect. His eyes darted around wildly as he slowly stalked toward his prey at a silent pace, and then, Cody Jenson began smiling. It started out as a lop-sided smile that formed on only one corner of his lip. Eventually, however, the smile grew until the corners on both sides of Cody's lips were raised into a sinister arch. The smile only grew from there, Cody's lips parting to reveal the pearly-white teeth that lay behind them. The very person that he saw scurrying desperately up the nearby tree was him. So it really was destiny, after all.
"Sidney fucking Crosby!" Cody shouted with glee.
Raising the small handgun up to within aiming distance, Cody pulled the trigger, sending a solitary bullet flying toward Sidney. Luckily enough for Crosby, Cody had purposely missed, and the bullet embedded itself in the tree just above Sidney, sending wood chips flying from the century-old tree bark as it pounded into the tree, embedding itself inside. The maniacal smile never left Cody's face as he looked at him, his gun still pointed high in his shaking hands.
"It really is destiny, you fool! It really is! You'll meet your end, Sidney Crosby. You'll meet it by my hand!"
Stalking forward a bit, Cody fired another bullet wildly, not taking the time to even properly aim his gun. He wasn't looking to take Sidney Crosby out with the small firearm he currently wielded. Oh, no. Sidney Crosby deserved a fate much worse than a quick and painless death. Sidney deserved to be tortured. He deserved to have his body hacked limb from limb with the handaxe Cody currently had strapped to his back. Cody would make him suffer. He would make him pay for the constant upstagging, the constant outdoing. Cackling softly, Cody continued to stalk toward his fellow hockey player.
"Always better than me. Always trying to outdo me, Crosby. Trying to prove you were better than me. You're NOT better than me! Do you hear me?! You're not better! I'm the best! I'm better than you could ever dream of being! I'll prove it, Sidney Crosby. I'll prove it here and now! I'm better than you, god dammit! I'm BETTER!"
Firing off another round toward Sidney, Cody flicked the safety on swiftly before shoving the handgun down the front of his pants. In one swift movement, he had undone the handaxe that had been tied to his back and now wielded the blood-covered weapon in his hand. A menacing gleam passed over Cody's glazed-over eyes as he looked at Sidney Crosby. Before him stood a man he'd hated for years. A man who upstagged him at every turn. A man who surprassed him at every corner. Now, Cody had the chance to prove to Sidney Crosby, to himself, and to the entire world that he was better than the sniveling coward before him. Now, the tables had turned. Now, they were playing by his rules. Now... was his time to shine.
"DIE!"
The single word echoed throughout the clearing as Cody Jenson took off in a full-on sprint from where he had been standing. Wheeling the handaxe back in the air as he ran, Cody never faltered. His vision focused purely on Sidney Crosby, and he saw nothing else. Crosby would die a slow and painful death at his hands. This was how it was meant to be. He would eliminate Crosby from the final four before the other two contestants ever arrived. You can't be late to a competition, you know. That's how you get disqualified... taken out of the running. In Sidney's case, he should've probably been late. Without any hesitation or remorse, Cody Jenson swung down wildly with the axe he wielded in his hands, hoping to connect with the form of Sidney Crosby.
It comes down to this... I'll prove I'm better than you, Sidney. I was always better than you.
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When the bullet had exploded above him, sending wood chips down onto his head, Sidney Crosby had jumped with a start. He'd been naive to think that the others wouldn't be around until far later - most had probably hurried to the River to get a tactical advantage on the others, which Sidney now realized that he'd wasted. He'd had the advantage, and he'd spent the time climbing up a tree.
Fucking stupid, Sid!
Of course, as the second shot went a WAY wide of him, Sidney finally looked up into the face of his assailant, who was quickly walking towards him from the other end of the valley. Sid wasn't surprised to recognize him - for at this point, he knew all four who were still alive. It was, of course, the dread that had been in his stomach that had risen up though, when he saw that it was indeed Cody Jenson who was striding towards him with a pure look of hatred on his face. He was shouting things, too, but since he was relatively far away, Sidney couldn't quite understand him. Of course, the one thing that he DID understand was when Cody began to sprint towards him, waving a handaxe, screaming "DIE" at the top of his lungs. For a moment, he froze. The fear was nearly overpowering, and he basically watched the other boy run towards him, clearly intent on lopping his head from his body. As Cody got closer, Sidney simply sat, gaping, until a little voice in his head that had been screaming at him to get out of the way finally took full control of his body and sent him diving out of Cody's way.
Pulling himself quickly to his feet, Sidney was filled with a sense of fear. This was it. He'd have to kill Cody Jenson, or else he wouldn't be going home alive. Backpedalling a bit, Sidney fumbled getting his gun out of his pocket. Finally managing to extract it, he thumbed off the safety and pointed it at Cody.
"F-fuck you, Cody! You have such a...an inferiority complex! It's not my fault that I'm blessed with hockey talent! You've just got to accept that there are going to be people who are better than you in this world. So what if I'm a better hockey player that you are? You still had the talent to be one of the best in the world! You would've made the NHL, no problem! But you always had a screw loose, Cody! You always had issues, and that's why you were never as good as your potential said!"
As Sidney was yelling at Cody, he was stepping back some more, until he backed into a tree.
"But I guess I've got some good news for you, Cody. I can tell you what you're definitely better than me at. It's not hockey, though. I can say with all certainty that you're a better psychopath than I'll ever be! You're a better rapist than I'd make. And you'll definitely look better as someone's bitch in a prison cell than I ever would! You know that, right Cody? If you ever get out of here, they're probably going to arrest you for rape! Jesus, I hope that they lock you up and throw away the key. You can kill me, but if you get out, you're only postponing the inevitable anyways."
After his long speech, Sidney gulped and raised his pistol at Cody's head. He'd figured a new tactic, trying to convince Cody that death was only a matter of time for him, and maybe, just maybe, he could convince Cody to kill himself.
"So...y-you know what you should do? Just...put your pistol to your head and end it all! That way, people will remember you not as Cody Jenson, the rapist, but Cody Jenson, the victim. The sad little boy who got taken to SOTF and couldn't handle it, so he took his own life! T-then your legacy won't be so ...tarnished!"
It was his best hope, and Sidney had no idea if Cody was buying it. Internally, he knew that he wouldn't. The problem was, Sid didn't know if he'd be able to actually pull the trigger.
Fucking stupid, Sid!
Of course, as the second shot went a WAY wide of him, Sidney finally looked up into the face of his assailant, who was quickly walking towards him from the other end of the valley. Sid wasn't surprised to recognize him - for at this point, he knew all four who were still alive. It was, of course, the dread that had been in his stomach that had risen up though, when he saw that it was indeed Cody Jenson who was striding towards him with a pure look of hatred on his face. He was shouting things, too, but since he was relatively far away, Sidney couldn't quite understand him. Of course, the one thing that he DID understand was when Cody began to sprint towards him, waving a handaxe, screaming "DIE" at the top of his lungs. For a moment, he froze. The fear was nearly overpowering, and he basically watched the other boy run towards him, clearly intent on lopping his head from his body. As Cody got closer, Sidney simply sat, gaping, until a little voice in his head that had been screaming at him to get out of the way finally took full control of his body and sent him diving out of Cody's way.
Pulling himself quickly to his feet, Sidney was filled with a sense of fear. This was it. He'd have to kill Cody Jenson, or else he wouldn't be going home alive. Backpedalling a bit, Sidney fumbled getting his gun out of his pocket. Finally managing to extract it, he thumbed off the safety and pointed it at Cody.
"F-fuck you, Cody! You have such a...an inferiority complex! It's not my fault that I'm blessed with hockey talent! You've just got to accept that there are going to be people who are better than you in this world. So what if I'm a better hockey player that you are? You still had the talent to be one of the best in the world! You would've made the NHL, no problem! But you always had a screw loose, Cody! You always had issues, and that's why you were never as good as your potential said!"
As Sidney was yelling at Cody, he was stepping back some more, until he backed into a tree.
"But I guess I've got some good news for you, Cody. I can tell you what you're definitely better than me at. It's not hockey, though. I can say with all certainty that you're a better psychopath than I'll ever be! You're a better rapist than I'd make. And you'll definitely look better as someone's bitch in a prison cell than I ever would! You know that, right Cody? If you ever get out of here, they're probably going to arrest you for rape! Jesus, I hope that they lock you up and throw away the key. You can kill me, but if you get out, you're only postponing the inevitable anyways."
After his long speech, Sidney gulped and raised his pistol at Cody's head. He'd figured a new tactic, trying to convince Cody that death was only a matter of time for him, and maybe, just maybe, he could convince Cody to kill himself.
"So...y-you know what you should do? Just...put your pistol to your head and end it all! That way, people will remember you not as Cody Jenson, the rapist, but Cody Jenson, the victim. The sad little boy who got taken to SOTF and couldn't handle it, so he took his own life! T-then your legacy won't be so ...tarnished!"
It was his best hope, and Sidney had no idea if Cody was buying it. Internally, he knew that he wouldn't. The problem was, Sid didn't know if he'd be able to actually pull the trigger.
Fight or flight, Sidney Crosby. Fight or flight. Which will you choose?
A disappointed sound escaped the lips of Cody Jenson as his foe, to no surprise, chose the option of flight. An expression of mild annoyance formed across Cody's features as Sidney managed to scramble past him, completely avoiding the blow from the handaxe. Instead, the axe had embedded itself in the tree that Sid had been climbing from the sheer force of the attack. If Cody had managed to hit him, he might've split Crosby in two. Cody smiled inwardly at this knowledge. But, the fact was, he had missed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sid backpeddaling in the other direction and fiddling with his gun. Cody, meanwhile, braced his foot against the tree, yanking with all his might and finally managing to remove the handaxe.
He watched the metallic object grasped tightly in Sidney's palms with mild curiosity. Had he been thinking rationally, he would've completely disguarded his handaxe and blasted Sidney Crosby into the beyond with the shotgun that currently hung from his chest. All sense of rationality, however, had long since escaped the confines of Cody's mind. Rationality, clarity... terms such as these were long forgotten in this place. Only two things prevailed over all else: the will to survive and basic, primal instinct.
As Sidney backed away from Cody, all the while pointing that menacing metal object toward him, he began to speak. The stuttering, sniveling wimp that was Sidney Crosby had finally begun to grow some balls... at least, that was the front he was pointing on. Cody saw right through his facade. The fact remained, Sidney was scared shitless. Even someone as unobservant as Cody Jenson could hear it in the hockey player's voice. Still brandishing the bloody handaxe he'd carried for the better part of his time on the island, Cody began to stalk toward his arch-rival.
Sid's words were lost upon him. All Cody saw was a whiney, sniveling baby, trying to fight a physical battle verbally. Sidney Crosby was a coward. He always had been, he always would be. Right up until the time of his death, which Cody assured himself would be very, very soon. As Sidney stumbled backward into another tree, Cody smirked. How had this clumsy fool ever been the "best"? How had he ever become the "next big thing"? Ludicrous, all of it! As the sniveling, condescending little coward continued his verbal tirade upon Cody, all he could do was smile that sadistic smile and continue to stalk ever closer to his victim.
As Sidney's words rang out in his ears, Cody stopped momentarily, mere feet away from Sid. His head cocked to the side lightly, and the smile vanished from his lips momentarily. Within seconds, however, the smile had reappeared, and the handaxe he currently wielded was once again ready to attack. End his own life? Why would he do a thing like that? He hadn't fulfilled his destiny yet, Sidney Crosby and Adam Dodd were both still breathing. Before it was all said and done, both of those men would die by his hand. That was the one certainty that remained in Cody Jenson's discombobulated mind.
"They'll lock me up, eh?" he muttered at almost a whisper, the hatred he felt for Crosby evident in his words, "See, Sid, that's where you're wrong. You assume too much, and that'll be your undoing."
Smirking slightly, Cody sidled up toward the tree, keeping his eye on Sidney Crosby. The handaxe currently rested at his side, but at any given moment, Cody had the ability to swing his arm around and hopefully embed the sharp object into the flesh of his nemesis.
"What makes you think I wanted out, Sidney? What makes you think I ever had any intentions of winning this thing? You're no better than me, you filthy coward. I've heard your name in the announcements. You've killed people. Face it, Crosby, you're no better than I am. No better than everyone else on this island. We're all the same. We're all murderers. Do you think, even for one second, that if you ever went home, they'd praise you as Sidney Crosby, sole survivor of that terrible game? Of course they wouldn't, you idiot. It'd be Sidney Crosby, the next big thing... he was such a good kid, a friendly kid... but he murdered those people on the island. He murdered them in cold blood so that he could survive."
Cody's voice had taken on an almost mocking tone as he spoke. Stopping momentarily, Cody began to heave, the presumed internal bleeding that had been going on for a long while now once again threatening to tear its way up Cody's throat and through his mouth. Fighting back the coppery taste that once again filled his mouth, Cody spit a globule of the red muckusy substance out on the ground in disgust.
"So Crosby... maybe you should take your own advice. Maybe you should put that gun to your head and pull the trigger... that is, if you even know how to fire it correctly. My guess is that the two people you managed to massacre in this place were purely dumb luck on your part," the sly smile once again returned to Cody's lips, "And I'm willing to bet that I'd be right, wouldn't I? Do you really think you could kill me, Sidney? I'm right here, you coward. Pull the trigger."
At the range from which Cody stood, a bullet coming from either of the boy's guns would surely be fatal to the other. Cody, in his apparent insanity, insisted upon taking Sidney Crosby down with the bloody handaxe that had sent many an islander to their grisly demise. Not once did he seem to take into account that Crosby could, in theory, pull the trigger and end his life before Cody ever even got close enough to swing the axe. It never crossed his mind. Cody wasn't worried about it, though. People like Crosby, the only reason they'd ever managed to get a kill under their belt was pure, unadulterated dumb luck.
"Fight me, you coward!"
Cody's voice raised an octave as he shouted out the command. The handaxe was once again raised into an attacking position as Cody stepped back a few feet. The look of raw hatred had once again overtaken Cody Jenson's features as he clung tightly to the axe with both hands, the ferocity with which he held the weapon apparent in his white knuckles and trembling hands. Once again, without even really realizing what he was doing, Cody was charging at Sidney Crosby. A primal scream erupted from his lips as he thrust the axe toward Crosby wildly. As he charged, he recalled Sidney on the hockey rink, that ever-smiling, ever-dopey look plastered to his face after the game. Cody resented him. He resented everything about him. Now, it was his turn to upstage Sidney Crosby. It was his turn to take away Crosby's most prized possession: his life.
A disappointed sound escaped the lips of Cody Jenson as his foe, to no surprise, chose the option of flight. An expression of mild annoyance formed across Cody's features as Sidney managed to scramble past him, completely avoiding the blow from the handaxe. Instead, the axe had embedded itself in the tree that Sid had been climbing from the sheer force of the attack. If Cody had managed to hit him, he might've split Crosby in two. Cody smiled inwardly at this knowledge. But, the fact was, he had missed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sid backpeddaling in the other direction and fiddling with his gun. Cody, meanwhile, braced his foot against the tree, yanking with all his might and finally managing to remove the handaxe.
He watched the metallic object grasped tightly in Sidney's palms with mild curiosity. Had he been thinking rationally, he would've completely disguarded his handaxe and blasted Sidney Crosby into the beyond with the shotgun that currently hung from his chest. All sense of rationality, however, had long since escaped the confines of Cody's mind. Rationality, clarity... terms such as these were long forgotten in this place. Only two things prevailed over all else: the will to survive and basic, primal instinct.
As Sidney backed away from Cody, all the while pointing that menacing metal object toward him, he began to speak. The stuttering, sniveling wimp that was Sidney Crosby had finally begun to grow some balls... at least, that was the front he was pointing on. Cody saw right through his facade. The fact remained, Sidney was scared shitless. Even someone as unobservant as Cody Jenson could hear it in the hockey player's voice. Still brandishing the bloody handaxe he'd carried for the better part of his time on the island, Cody began to stalk toward his arch-rival.
Sid's words were lost upon him. All Cody saw was a whiney, sniveling baby, trying to fight a physical battle verbally. Sidney Crosby was a coward. He always had been, he always would be. Right up until the time of his death, which Cody assured himself would be very, very soon. As Sidney stumbled backward into another tree, Cody smirked. How had this clumsy fool ever been the "best"? How had he ever become the "next big thing"? Ludicrous, all of it! As the sniveling, condescending little coward continued his verbal tirade upon Cody, all he could do was smile that sadistic smile and continue to stalk ever closer to his victim.
As Sidney's words rang out in his ears, Cody stopped momentarily, mere feet away from Sid. His head cocked to the side lightly, and the smile vanished from his lips momentarily. Within seconds, however, the smile had reappeared, and the handaxe he currently wielded was once again ready to attack. End his own life? Why would he do a thing like that? He hadn't fulfilled his destiny yet, Sidney Crosby and Adam Dodd were both still breathing. Before it was all said and done, both of those men would die by his hand. That was the one certainty that remained in Cody Jenson's discombobulated mind.
"They'll lock me up, eh?" he muttered at almost a whisper, the hatred he felt for Crosby evident in his words, "See, Sid, that's where you're wrong. You assume too much, and that'll be your undoing."
Smirking slightly, Cody sidled up toward the tree, keeping his eye on Sidney Crosby. The handaxe currently rested at his side, but at any given moment, Cody had the ability to swing his arm around and hopefully embed the sharp object into the flesh of his nemesis.
"What makes you think I wanted out, Sidney? What makes you think I ever had any intentions of winning this thing? You're no better than me, you filthy coward. I've heard your name in the announcements. You've killed people. Face it, Crosby, you're no better than I am. No better than everyone else on this island. We're all the same. We're all murderers. Do you think, even for one second, that if you ever went home, they'd praise you as Sidney Crosby, sole survivor of that terrible game? Of course they wouldn't, you idiot. It'd be Sidney Crosby, the next big thing... he was such a good kid, a friendly kid... but he murdered those people on the island. He murdered them in cold blood so that he could survive."
Cody's voice had taken on an almost mocking tone as he spoke. Stopping momentarily, Cody began to heave, the presumed internal bleeding that had been going on for a long while now once again threatening to tear its way up Cody's throat and through his mouth. Fighting back the coppery taste that once again filled his mouth, Cody spit a globule of the red muckusy substance out on the ground in disgust.
"So Crosby... maybe you should take your own advice. Maybe you should put that gun to your head and pull the trigger... that is, if you even know how to fire it correctly. My guess is that the two people you managed to massacre in this place were purely dumb luck on your part," the sly smile once again returned to Cody's lips, "And I'm willing to bet that I'd be right, wouldn't I? Do you really think you could kill me, Sidney? I'm right here, you coward. Pull the trigger."
At the range from which Cody stood, a bullet coming from either of the boy's guns would surely be fatal to the other. Cody, in his apparent insanity, insisted upon taking Sidney Crosby down with the bloody handaxe that had sent many an islander to their grisly demise. Not once did he seem to take into account that Crosby could, in theory, pull the trigger and end his life before Cody ever even got close enough to swing the axe. It never crossed his mind. Cody wasn't worried about it, though. People like Crosby, the only reason they'd ever managed to get a kill under their belt was pure, unadulterated dumb luck.
"Fight me, you coward!"
Cody's voice raised an octave as he shouted out the command. The handaxe was once again raised into an attacking position as Cody stepped back a few feet. The look of raw hatred had once again overtaken Cody Jenson's features as he clung tightly to the axe with both hands, the ferocity with which he held the weapon apparent in his white knuckles and trembling hands. Once again, without even really realizing what he was doing, Cody was charging at Sidney Crosby. A primal scream erupted from his lips as he thrust the axe toward Crosby wildly. As he charged, he recalled Sidney on the hockey rink, that ever-smiling, ever-dopey look plastered to his face after the game. Cody resented him. He resented everything about him. Now, it was his turn to upstage Sidney Crosby. It was his turn to take away Crosby's most prized possession: his life.
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The blood drained from Sid's face as he realized something that terrified him beyond all words: Cody Jenson was right. He HAD been a coward here in Survival of the Fittest. He'd hidden behind people that he'd called friends - when the truth was, that he was no friend. He was simply a scared teenager who tried to brandish a gun to get his own way. He'd whined, complained, and tried to stick to large groups, in the hope that when it came time to run, Sidney wouldn't be the one at the end of the line, the one who ended up falling because they just weren't quick enough.
And if it's true, Sid, it makes you no better than him.
Setting his jaw, Sidney got pissed. It wasn't enough that Cody Jenson had revealed that he had a serious hate on for Crosby. In fact, if Crosby'd originally known Cody to be on the island, he would've felt safer, as though he had a serious ally. But then he found Cody, raping and murdering an innocent girl. Hell, would it have mattered if she wasn't innocent?
And here they were, the final four, and Cody Jenson, of all people, was calling Sidney Crosby a coward. No matter how true the words might have been, Sidney knew that hearing that from a person of such reprehensible character as Cody Jenson was not something that he was prepared to accept. So putting on his best stone-faced glare, he fired back at Cody, his words sounding more defensive than anything.
"Wel-I...f-fuck you, Cody! What the hell do you know? Those two kills were accidents! Chance, he...he was being attacked and she threw him in the way, and...the other one, I just had a knee-jerk...well fuck you, then! Your name's been on every announcement for the last few days! You RAPED someone, Cody! You didn't even care, you just...took what you probably couldn't have gotten even if you tried! Is that why you did it? She turned you down, so you took it anyway? You make me sick, Cody!"
The hand holding the gun trembled slightly as he fired back his last insult before Cody came rushing at him.
"I'd bet Danya himself would kill you if you won the game! You're just a waste of space, Cody! You'll never be as good as me, even if you kill me! You'll always be second-best!"
As Cody came at him swinging the axe, Sidney nervously squeezed off a shot from the pistol, a shot that went nowhere close to Cody. Being so scared had reduced Sidney's hands into quivering masses, and the gunshot went off to the right. As it did and impacted into the bushes, he saw a little squirrel run up a tree in fear.
Odd, that's the first animal I've seen this whole time...
Cody slammed into him, swinging the handaxe viciously. Sidney felt a stab of pain as it cut into his arm, the blood running down his arm as he tried to push the boy off of him. Finally getting angry enough to fight back, Sidney gave Cody a shove, and fired back with a few punches to the abdomen.
And if it's true, Sid, it makes you no better than him.
Setting his jaw, Sidney got pissed. It wasn't enough that Cody Jenson had revealed that he had a serious hate on for Crosby. In fact, if Crosby'd originally known Cody to be on the island, he would've felt safer, as though he had a serious ally. But then he found Cody, raping and murdering an innocent girl. Hell, would it have mattered if she wasn't innocent?
And here they were, the final four, and Cody Jenson, of all people, was calling Sidney Crosby a coward. No matter how true the words might have been, Sidney knew that hearing that from a person of such reprehensible character as Cody Jenson was not something that he was prepared to accept. So putting on his best stone-faced glare, he fired back at Cody, his words sounding more defensive than anything.
"Wel-I...f-fuck you, Cody! What the hell do you know? Those two kills were accidents! Chance, he...he was being attacked and she threw him in the way, and...the other one, I just had a knee-jerk...well fuck you, then! Your name's been on every announcement for the last few days! You RAPED someone, Cody! You didn't even care, you just...took what you probably couldn't have gotten even if you tried! Is that why you did it? She turned you down, so you took it anyway? You make me sick, Cody!"
The hand holding the gun trembled slightly as he fired back his last insult before Cody came rushing at him.
"I'd bet Danya himself would kill you if you won the game! You're just a waste of space, Cody! You'll never be as good as me, even if you kill me! You'll always be second-best!"
As Cody came at him swinging the axe, Sidney nervously squeezed off a shot from the pistol, a shot that went nowhere close to Cody. Being so scared had reduced Sidney's hands into quivering masses, and the gunshot went off to the right. As it did and impacted into the bushes, he saw a little squirrel run up a tree in fear.
Odd, that's the first animal I've seen this whole time...
Cody slammed into him, swinging the handaxe viciously. Sidney felt a stab of pain as it cut into his arm, the blood running down his arm as he tried to push the boy off of him. Finally getting angry enough to fight back, Sidney gave Cody a shove, and fired back with a few punches to the abdomen.
Second-best? Always... second-best?
Cody Jenson may have shown no physical acknowledgement of the spiteful and bitter words coming out of Sidney Crosby's mouth, but internally, that word hit him like a bag of bricks. It was the very reason he'd resented Sidney Crosby for so long. Sid was better than him. He was better at hockey, he was a better, more likeable person... he'd always been just a step ahead of Cody Jenson. He'd always managed to take away Cody's hopes, his dreams... and all the while, the fool never knew. He never knew what he was doing. He didn't care that he'd upstagged Cody and taken what was rightfully his over and over and over.
He was snapped back from his reverie as he felt his own body collide with that of Crosby's. He had instinctively swung the axe toward his foe once again, and this time Cody Jenson grinned with sheer glee as he felt the sharp object enter Sidney's arm. His face contorted into a sinister grin as he heard the slicing of human flesh and saw the bright red substance that oozed from the newly-attained cut on Sidney Crosby's arm. For a moment, he was all but mesmerized by the red waterfall cascading down Sidney's arm. It had begun. The moment he had fantasized about many sleepless nights was finally upon him. He could finally get his retribution!
And I'll make you bleed out, Crosby. Slowly. Painfully. You'll feel it... till your very last breath.
It was at that moment that the unexpected happened. Sidney Crosby actually decided to fight back. Cody found himself unwittingly stumbling backward as his rival shoved him away. Within seconds, an immense pain gathered within his abdomen. It took Cody a few moments to decipher what had just happened in his mind. He replayed the incident mentally within a matter of seconds, not sure when or how Crosby had decided to fight back. All Cody Jenson knew was that currently he was on the wrong end of the stick, and Sid's punches had impacted him directly in the stomach.
The blows to the stomach that Crosby had dealt out caused Cody to release the handaxe in surprise, sending it flying off behind him somewhere. Growling slightly at the loss of his favored weapon, Cody stood doubled-over for a moment, hands placed on his knees, looking directly at the blood-stained grass on the ground. It wasn't necessarily that the punches incurred by Sidney had done all that much on their own. It was the fact that the coppery, metallic taste of blood had begun to fill Cody Jenson's mouth once again when Sidney had decked him.
He closed his eyes for just a second, immediately opening them again and rising to his full height. The pained expression that had overtaken his features in that instance immediately returned to the sinister glare that he'd taken on only moments before. Once again, a wide-lipped smile past over the boy's features, only this time, when he grinned, the pearly-white teeth he was once owner to shown a reddish-brown in color from the blood that had washed from his stomach into his mouth.
"That's more like it," Cody whispered as he spit another mouth full of blood to the side.
As much as he hated to admit it, his time on the island seemed to be running short. His body had grown weak and fragile over the course of the past few days, now even so much as that the punch Sidney Crosby had dealt out had once again spurred the internal bleeding that was happening inside Cody Jenson. Or maybe it was like that all along. At this point, the boy didn't really know. Sighing a bit, Cody made no attempt to retrieve his handaxe, nor did he go for the shotgun slung around his chest. He wouldn't shoot Crosby, not unless he was forced to. He wanted to make Sidney suffer. He wanted to take the things away from Sidney that Sidney had viciously taken from him again and again.
"You'd know all about taking things, wouldn't you, Crosby? Taking things that aren't yours... that's what you're best at. You took everything from me! My glory, my fame, my pride... my dignity... my career! You took it all! Taking and taking and taking! Never giving anything back! I hate you, Crosby! I hate you, do you hear me?!"
Cody once again lunged at Sidney, this time stealthy raising his knee in an attempt to hit his arch-nemesis in the groin and take him to the ground. Almost immediately, without even checking to see whether or not his hit had connected, Cody Jenson's bloody hands were reaching out, attempting to wrap themselves around Sidney Crosby's neck and slowly choke the life from the other boy. Cody's strength was waivering, however. He could feel it. Forcing back another cough, Cody closed his eyes and let out another primal yell, not sure if he'd even grasped Crosby in his clutches at all. Now, he wasn't sure of anything. Only one word rang out in his mind.
Kill.
Cody Jenson may have shown no physical acknowledgement of the spiteful and bitter words coming out of Sidney Crosby's mouth, but internally, that word hit him like a bag of bricks. It was the very reason he'd resented Sidney Crosby for so long. Sid was better than him. He was better at hockey, he was a better, more likeable person... he'd always been just a step ahead of Cody Jenson. He'd always managed to take away Cody's hopes, his dreams... and all the while, the fool never knew. He never knew what he was doing. He didn't care that he'd upstagged Cody and taken what was rightfully his over and over and over.
He was snapped back from his reverie as he felt his own body collide with that of Crosby's. He had instinctively swung the axe toward his foe once again, and this time Cody Jenson grinned with sheer glee as he felt the sharp object enter Sidney's arm. His face contorted into a sinister grin as he heard the slicing of human flesh and saw the bright red substance that oozed from the newly-attained cut on Sidney Crosby's arm. For a moment, he was all but mesmerized by the red waterfall cascading down Sidney's arm. It had begun. The moment he had fantasized about many sleepless nights was finally upon him. He could finally get his retribution!
And I'll make you bleed out, Crosby. Slowly. Painfully. You'll feel it... till your very last breath.
It was at that moment that the unexpected happened. Sidney Crosby actually decided to fight back. Cody found himself unwittingly stumbling backward as his rival shoved him away. Within seconds, an immense pain gathered within his abdomen. It took Cody a few moments to decipher what had just happened in his mind. He replayed the incident mentally within a matter of seconds, not sure when or how Crosby had decided to fight back. All Cody Jenson knew was that currently he was on the wrong end of the stick, and Sid's punches had impacted him directly in the stomach.
The blows to the stomach that Crosby had dealt out caused Cody to release the handaxe in surprise, sending it flying off behind him somewhere. Growling slightly at the loss of his favored weapon, Cody stood doubled-over for a moment, hands placed on his knees, looking directly at the blood-stained grass on the ground. It wasn't necessarily that the punches incurred by Sidney had done all that much on their own. It was the fact that the coppery, metallic taste of blood had begun to fill Cody Jenson's mouth once again when Sidney had decked him.
He closed his eyes for just a second, immediately opening them again and rising to his full height. The pained expression that had overtaken his features in that instance immediately returned to the sinister glare that he'd taken on only moments before. Once again, a wide-lipped smile past over the boy's features, only this time, when he grinned, the pearly-white teeth he was once owner to shown a reddish-brown in color from the blood that had washed from his stomach into his mouth.
"That's more like it," Cody whispered as he spit another mouth full of blood to the side.
As much as he hated to admit it, his time on the island seemed to be running short. His body had grown weak and fragile over the course of the past few days, now even so much as that the punch Sidney Crosby had dealt out had once again spurred the internal bleeding that was happening inside Cody Jenson. Or maybe it was like that all along. At this point, the boy didn't really know. Sighing a bit, Cody made no attempt to retrieve his handaxe, nor did he go for the shotgun slung around his chest. He wouldn't shoot Crosby, not unless he was forced to. He wanted to make Sidney suffer. He wanted to take the things away from Sidney that Sidney had viciously taken from him again and again.
"You'd know all about taking things, wouldn't you, Crosby? Taking things that aren't yours... that's what you're best at. You took everything from me! My glory, my fame, my pride... my dignity... my career! You took it all! Taking and taking and taking! Never giving anything back! I hate you, Crosby! I hate you, do you hear me?!"
Cody once again lunged at Sidney, this time stealthy raising his knee in an attempt to hit his arch-nemesis in the groin and take him to the ground. Almost immediately, without even checking to see whether or not his hit had connected, Cody Jenson's bloody hands were reaching out, attempting to wrap themselves around Sidney Crosby's neck and slowly choke the life from the other boy. Cody's strength was waivering, however. He could feel it. Forcing back another cough, Cody closed his eyes and let out another primal yell, not sure if he'd even grasped Crosby in his clutches at all. Now, he wasn't sure of anything. Only one word rang out in his mind.
Kill.
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Sidney couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Cody Jenson's mouth. Of course, now that he realized what those words were, and they took a split-second to settle in, Sidney could not but come to one very simple, and very basic conclusion.
Cody Jenson's fucking crazy. He's always been fucking crazy. He was always the best at hockey and once he got into the same league I was in, he wasn't the best anymore, and that drove him absolutely fucking nuts. Jesus H. Christ.
The more that Cody talked about Sidney taking things that supposedly belonged to HIM, the more that the look on Sidney's face became a look of almost pure pathetic pity for this poor boy. He was so desperately disillusioned, it was a wonder that he hadn't started killing people before Survival of the Fittest. Shaking his head for a second, Sidney fired back a reality check right back at Cody.
"Things that I've taken from YOU? Are you kidding me? What the hell have you even had that I've taken from you? You think I took places from you on teams? You're nuts, Cody, nuts. I'm a CENTERMAN, you're a fucking defenseman! Get it through your head! I haven't taken anything from you, I've worked as hard as you have to get to where I was, and I tried not to do it at the expense of anyone else! Jeez, you're mad at me for all these things, taking your pride, your dignity?"
Sidney looked him dead in the eyes, and said the last thing that he would say before Cody caught him square between the legs with a knee, fighting dirty like always.
"How can I take something from you that you didn't even have in the first place!? You're a pathetic excuse for a human - you always have been, and you always will be! That's why you didn't get anywhere, Cody - it was your own damn fault, not mine! It's not my fault you IDOLIZED me!"
The knee caught Sidney unawares, and his faced paled a shade of green as the blood rushed to his face and his groin brought him to the ground. He hardly had time to moan in pain when Cody grabbed Sidney's throat and began to throttle him. Sidney felt the air began to squeeze out of his lungs. Trying to bat at Cody's sides, Sidney failed miserably, his injured arm essentially out of comission due to the pain. As Sidney choked and his eyes bugged out, he continued to try and fight Cody off, to no avail. As he felt the black spots begin to cloud his vision, Sidney couldn't help but wonder what the hell the deal was with people trying to choke him to death.
Cody Jenson's fucking crazy. He's always been fucking crazy. He was always the best at hockey and once he got into the same league I was in, he wasn't the best anymore, and that drove him absolutely fucking nuts. Jesus H. Christ.
The more that Cody talked about Sidney taking things that supposedly belonged to HIM, the more that the look on Sidney's face became a look of almost pure pathetic pity for this poor boy. He was so desperately disillusioned, it was a wonder that he hadn't started killing people before Survival of the Fittest. Shaking his head for a second, Sidney fired back a reality check right back at Cody.
"Things that I've taken from YOU? Are you kidding me? What the hell have you even had that I've taken from you? You think I took places from you on teams? You're nuts, Cody, nuts. I'm a CENTERMAN, you're a fucking defenseman! Get it through your head! I haven't taken anything from you, I've worked as hard as you have to get to where I was, and I tried not to do it at the expense of anyone else! Jeez, you're mad at me for all these things, taking your pride, your dignity?"
Sidney looked him dead in the eyes, and said the last thing that he would say before Cody caught him square between the legs with a knee, fighting dirty like always.
"How can I take something from you that you didn't even have in the first place!? You're a pathetic excuse for a human - you always have been, and you always will be! That's why you didn't get anywhere, Cody - it was your own damn fault, not mine! It's not my fault you IDOLIZED me!"
The knee caught Sidney unawares, and his faced paled a shade of green as the blood rushed to his face and his groin brought him to the ground. He hardly had time to moan in pain when Cody grabbed Sidney's throat and began to throttle him. Sidney felt the air began to squeeze out of his lungs. Trying to bat at Cody's sides, Sidney failed miserably, his injured arm essentially out of comission due to the pain. As Sidney choked and his eyes bugged out, he continued to try and fight Cody off, to no avail. As he felt the black spots begin to cloud his vision, Sidney couldn't help but wonder what the hell the deal was with people trying to choke him to death.
Cody Jenson's partially glazed-over eyes rolled down to look at the face of his arch-nemesis. Sidney Crosby, once considered handsome by many the rabid fangirl, no longer had those award-winning and charming features. His eyes were bugged out, causing him to look like some strange and foreign insect. His face was turning a sickly blueish-purple in color and soon enough, Cody assumed, the blood veins would be bursting and leaving Sidney's face in that swelled-up and unearthly state for the short remainder of his life.
Not so pretty now, are you? Not hot stuff anymore, are you, Crosby? You're nothing. No one. Just another body on the burn pile. Just another body!
Cody's eyes rolled back in his head as his grip tightened around the hockey player's throat and a twisted and demented expression overtook his already sinister-looking features. The blonde-haired boy grinned in unadulterated pleasure, as though he were getting off on slowly strangling the life out of Sidney Crosby. Indeed, it felt good. It felt very good. Cody had wanted this for so long... he'd wanted Sidney out of his life for good. He'd wanted to wipe Sidney Crosby off of the face of the planet himself, and now he was getting his chance.
He continued to wring his hands around Sidney's neck, putting an immense amount of pressure on the windpipe his thumbs were currently forced into, and the glazed-over expression completely overtook his features as he listened to the involuntary gurgles and gasps for air that were emitting from the dark-haired boy he was slowly but surely strangling to death. However, somewhere inside the sinister mess of madness that was Cody Jenson's mind, something was a bit off-kilter.
He'd wanted this for so long. He'd dreamed about this moment, fantasized about it. So then... why didn't this feel as good as it was supposed to? The intoxicated pleasure and sense of fulfillment that he had gotten when he'd maliciously executed Elsie Darroch and Clemence de Rousseau... it wasn't there. It wasn't supposed to end like this. It just wasn't. Sidney Crosby was supposed to be tougher than this. He was supposed to go down with a fight, not like a baby unable to fight back.
Keep going, you fool. Kill him. KILL HIM! This is what you wanted, Cody! You've fantasized about this moment for years, and it's finally here. Kill him now, before the others come! Eliminate him from the competition. There are bigger fish to fry, you shouldn't waste your time on this worm. Do you think he'd waste his time on you?
Despite himself, Cody felt his grasp on Sidney's throat beginning to waiver. It was too easy. It wasn't supposed to be easy. The momentary ecstasy that Cody had felt as he had begun to choke the life from his foe was now gone, and all he could feel was a deep sense of remorse. Not remorse for the fact that he was attempting to brutally strangle someone he'd played hockey with since practically childhood. No, not once did Cody regret his attempt to end Crosby's life. What he did regret was that Crosby hadn't suffered.
No, Cody. Make him suffer! You don't want it to end this way, you know you don't! You want him to fear for his life. You want him to beg you to spare his life. You want him to experience all the mental pain he caused you for years, and you want him to feel it physically! Don't strangle him to death. Make him suffer, teach him a lesson. Make sure that Sidney Crosby remembers you from here into the afterlife! Make him experience pain and suffering like he's never felt before!
The voices wouldn't stop. They grew louder and louder, arguing amongst themselves within the confines of Cody's mind. The insanity that had overtaken him was at war with his rationality. On the one hand, it was only common sense to eliminate Crosby from the competition before the others got there. Cody could still his weapon, he could hide, and he could gain the upper hand on Adam and Jack before they ever arrived. If he did that, he might actually stand a chance at winning this thing.
Then again, why bother? Cody had no desire to win this competition. The moment that Cody Jenson had waited his entire life for was finally here, and Sidney Crosby's fate rested in Cody's sweaty and calloused hands. For the Pittsburg Penguins star player, Cody Jenson would be the judge, the jury, and the executor. And the torturer. A sick and twisted smile once again formed on Cody Jenson's lips as insanity vanquished its more timid and merciful counterpart.
In the blink of an eye, Cody Jenson's hands released their deathgrip on Sidney's neck and slammed it backward into the grassy earth surrounding the river. Sidney Crosby would feel pain like he'd never felt before, and he'd feel it at the hands of Cody Jenson. Cody watched on with mild curiosity as the life slowly seeped back into Sidney's lungs. Sidney had been on the brink of death, Cody was sure of it. For the length of time he had undergone asphyxiation, it was bound to take a while for Sidney to regain any strength, any ability to counter or fight back to what would happen next.
One hand found itself firmly planted upon the forehead of Sidney Crosby, effectively forcing his head back into the dirt. Cody's other hand slowly crept down his exposed leg, into the boot which he adorned. From within his sock, the bloody dagger he had used to brutally stab Clemence to death emerged, its blade gleaming as menacingly as ever. Cody brought the knife up, inspecting the dried blood that covered the blade. Still using one hand to force Sidney's head back, Cody twirled the blade around, studying it carefully. It next found its way up against the base of Sidney's throat, and Cody's features once again alit in that sadistic smile.
"You don't deserve death, Crosby. You deserve a fate much, much worse."
Slowly, carefully, Cody ran the knife across the base of Sidney's neck, watching in mild amusement as the small cut formed across Sidney's throat and the bright crimson liquid inside began to ooze slowly from the wound. It was a minor wound, at best, but this was only the beginning. Cody wouldn't give Sid the satisfaction of having his throat slit. Not yet, anyway. It wasn't painful enough. No, Sidney Crosby would undergo ungodly torture before his execution, and Cody would see to that. Bringing the knife up to his mouth, Cody slowly ran his tongue across the crimson-stained blade, savoring the taste of Sidney's blood as it filled his mouth.
"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment, Crosby. I've lived and breathed this moment for years, and now it's finally here!"
With the flick of his wrist, the knife Cody wielded only moments before found itself embedded in Sidney's hand. Grinning wildly, Cody looked down into the face of his nemesis once again, the smile adorning his face growing ever wider. Cody's hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand that only seconds before was subjected to the brutal knife injury, and Cody looked at it with curiosity. Clutching Sidney's thumb, Cody began pulling backward, harder and harder, until a sickening crack was heard from the digit. At the noise, Cody shuddered with delight.
"If you do make it out of here somehow, you'll never play hockey again. I'll make sure of that. I'll take it away from you, just like you did from me."
Cody grabbed Sidney's index finger, twisting and pulling, grinning all the while, until another audible crack was heard. Satisfied with the grotesquely mutilated finger, Cody moved on to Sid's middle finger, then his ring finger. Upon hearing the audible snap of Sid's ring finger, Cody allowed the deformed hand to drop. He continued to straddle Sidney, his eyes still in that glazed-over state that they'd locked into, and his hands slowly crept backward to the tire iron that had been slung over his back like a sword. It would've been easy to place the shotgun to Sidney's stomach and blow his organs across the ground, but this wasn't the time. Not yet. He hadn't suffered enough yet. Cody absent-mindedly felt the cold metal of the tire iron as his hands grasped ahold of it. In mere moments, it would be pulled from its harness and would be slammed into the face of Sidney Crosby. At least, if Cody had his way.
They won't even be able to recognize you by your dental records when I'm finished with you, Crosby. You won't have any teeth left for them to identify you by. I swear it.
Not so pretty now, are you? Not hot stuff anymore, are you, Crosby? You're nothing. No one. Just another body on the burn pile. Just another body!
Cody's eyes rolled back in his head as his grip tightened around the hockey player's throat and a twisted and demented expression overtook his already sinister-looking features. The blonde-haired boy grinned in unadulterated pleasure, as though he were getting off on slowly strangling the life out of Sidney Crosby. Indeed, it felt good. It felt very good. Cody had wanted this for so long... he'd wanted Sidney out of his life for good. He'd wanted to wipe Sidney Crosby off of the face of the planet himself, and now he was getting his chance.
He continued to wring his hands around Sidney's neck, putting an immense amount of pressure on the windpipe his thumbs were currently forced into, and the glazed-over expression completely overtook his features as he listened to the involuntary gurgles and gasps for air that were emitting from the dark-haired boy he was slowly but surely strangling to death. However, somewhere inside the sinister mess of madness that was Cody Jenson's mind, something was a bit off-kilter.
He'd wanted this for so long. He'd dreamed about this moment, fantasized about it. So then... why didn't this feel as good as it was supposed to? The intoxicated pleasure and sense of fulfillment that he had gotten when he'd maliciously executed Elsie Darroch and Clemence de Rousseau... it wasn't there. It wasn't supposed to end like this. It just wasn't. Sidney Crosby was supposed to be tougher than this. He was supposed to go down with a fight, not like a baby unable to fight back.
Keep going, you fool. Kill him. KILL HIM! This is what you wanted, Cody! You've fantasized about this moment for years, and it's finally here. Kill him now, before the others come! Eliminate him from the competition. There are bigger fish to fry, you shouldn't waste your time on this worm. Do you think he'd waste his time on you?
Despite himself, Cody felt his grasp on Sidney's throat beginning to waiver. It was too easy. It wasn't supposed to be easy. The momentary ecstasy that Cody had felt as he had begun to choke the life from his foe was now gone, and all he could feel was a deep sense of remorse. Not remorse for the fact that he was attempting to brutally strangle someone he'd played hockey with since practically childhood. No, not once did Cody regret his attempt to end Crosby's life. What he did regret was that Crosby hadn't suffered.
No, Cody. Make him suffer! You don't want it to end this way, you know you don't! You want him to fear for his life. You want him to beg you to spare his life. You want him to experience all the mental pain he caused you for years, and you want him to feel it physically! Don't strangle him to death. Make him suffer, teach him a lesson. Make sure that Sidney Crosby remembers you from here into the afterlife! Make him experience pain and suffering like he's never felt before!
The voices wouldn't stop. They grew louder and louder, arguing amongst themselves within the confines of Cody's mind. The insanity that had overtaken him was at war with his rationality. On the one hand, it was only common sense to eliminate Crosby from the competition before the others got there. Cody could still his weapon, he could hide, and he could gain the upper hand on Adam and Jack before they ever arrived. If he did that, he might actually stand a chance at winning this thing.
Then again, why bother? Cody had no desire to win this competition. The moment that Cody Jenson had waited his entire life for was finally here, and Sidney Crosby's fate rested in Cody's sweaty and calloused hands. For the Pittsburg Penguins star player, Cody Jenson would be the judge, the jury, and the executor. And the torturer. A sick and twisted smile once again formed on Cody Jenson's lips as insanity vanquished its more timid and merciful counterpart.
In the blink of an eye, Cody Jenson's hands released their deathgrip on Sidney's neck and slammed it backward into the grassy earth surrounding the river. Sidney Crosby would feel pain like he'd never felt before, and he'd feel it at the hands of Cody Jenson. Cody watched on with mild curiosity as the life slowly seeped back into Sidney's lungs. Sidney had been on the brink of death, Cody was sure of it. For the length of time he had undergone asphyxiation, it was bound to take a while for Sidney to regain any strength, any ability to counter or fight back to what would happen next.
One hand found itself firmly planted upon the forehead of Sidney Crosby, effectively forcing his head back into the dirt. Cody's other hand slowly crept down his exposed leg, into the boot which he adorned. From within his sock, the bloody dagger he had used to brutally stab Clemence to death emerged, its blade gleaming as menacingly as ever. Cody brought the knife up, inspecting the dried blood that covered the blade. Still using one hand to force Sidney's head back, Cody twirled the blade around, studying it carefully. It next found its way up against the base of Sidney's throat, and Cody's features once again alit in that sadistic smile.
"You don't deserve death, Crosby. You deserve a fate much, much worse."
Slowly, carefully, Cody ran the knife across the base of Sidney's neck, watching in mild amusement as the small cut formed across Sidney's throat and the bright crimson liquid inside began to ooze slowly from the wound. It was a minor wound, at best, but this was only the beginning. Cody wouldn't give Sid the satisfaction of having his throat slit. Not yet, anyway. It wasn't painful enough. No, Sidney Crosby would undergo ungodly torture before his execution, and Cody would see to that. Bringing the knife up to his mouth, Cody slowly ran his tongue across the crimson-stained blade, savoring the taste of Sidney's blood as it filled his mouth.
"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment, Crosby. I've lived and breathed this moment for years, and now it's finally here!"
With the flick of his wrist, the knife Cody wielded only moments before found itself embedded in Sidney's hand. Grinning wildly, Cody looked down into the face of his nemesis once again, the smile adorning his face growing ever wider. Cody's hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand that only seconds before was subjected to the brutal knife injury, and Cody looked at it with curiosity. Clutching Sidney's thumb, Cody began pulling backward, harder and harder, until a sickening crack was heard from the digit. At the noise, Cody shuddered with delight.
"If you do make it out of here somehow, you'll never play hockey again. I'll make sure of that. I'll take it away from you, just like you did from me."
Cody grabbed Sidney's index finger, twisting and pulling, grinning all the while, until another audible crack was heard. Satisfied with the grotesquely mutilated finger, Cody moved on to Sid's middle finger, then his ring finger. Upon hearing the audible snap of Sid's ring finger, Cody allowed the deformed hand to drop. He continued to straddle Sidney, his eyes still in that glazed-over state that they'd locked into, and his hands slowly crept backward to the tire iron that had been slung over his back like a sword. It would've been easy to place the shotgun to Sidney's stomach and blow his organs across the ground, but this wasn't the time. Not yet. He hadn't suffered enough yet. Cody absent-mindedly felt the cold metal of the tire iron as his hands grasped ahold of it. In mere moments, it would be pulled from its harness and would be slammed into the face of Sidney Crosby. At least, if Cody had his way.
They won't even be able to recognize you by your dental records when I'm finished with you, Crosby. You won't have any teeth left for them to identify you by. I swear it.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
This time, it was Cody Jenson who never saw it coming.
Out the door just in time
Head down the 405
Gotta meet the new boss by 8 a.m.
The phone rings in the car
The wife is workin' hard
She's running late tonight again
As Cody had choked the life out of Sidney Crosby, who'd felt the black spots come over his vision as he was strangled, he had gotten quite incredibly involved in killing his arch-rival. With every snap of bone and every wound that he inflicted upon Sidney, he felt a sick sense of satisfaction and glee - that much was evident on his face. Crosby moaned from the intense agony in his hand, and as Jenson broke his fingers, he screamed in pain as much as his injured throat would allow. The grimace on his face showed how much pain he was in, and as he got a glimpse at his mutilated and broken hand, he felt his hockey future shatter.
God, I'm going to die, and this crazy psycho is going to kill me...I never figured I'd go out like this...
So as he saw Cody Jenson raise the tire iron high up in the air, Sidney did the only thing that he could do to save himself at least some pain in his final moments - he shut his eyes and refused to watch Cody Jenson ram the tire iron into his face.
Of course, if Sidney Crosby had kept his eyes open, he would have seen Cody Jenson bring down the tire iron that had once belonged to Madelaine Shirohara as hard as he possibly could, only to be stopped by a phantom hand that seemed to emerge from the shadows. The hand grabbed Cody's arm, and stopped the tire iron from getting any closer to Sidney. Much in surprise, Cody looked up at Sidney's mystery saviour, and almost couldn't believe his eyes. It was much like a two for one deal. Of course, he didn't have much time to react at all.
"Cody!" The smiling face of Adam Dodd greeted him with a sarcastic-sounding greeting, before he was met with a very solid blow to the face; courtesy of one of the heavy Mag-Lite flashlights that they'd been assigned, sending Jenson sprawling off of Crosby and to the ground.
Well
I know what I've been told,
You got to work to feed the soul
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
Since he'd left the waterfall, the morphine still running through his system, Adam Dodd had taken his time making his way to the River. It was probably the last place that he'd wanted to make a return to, and as he figured that he'd already spent days in the place - which had proven to be more than hellish, he had planned to use up every inch of time that he had to avoid it until the deadline. He'd taken the roundabout route to the River, and had done a bit of scavenging for ammunition. Truth be told, he hadn't found much. Mainly a few clips from the bodies that he'd found as he passed by them. One thing of interest that he had found as he went through the bodies was found at the Makeshift Hospital.
He'd been wandering around, checking the bodies around the area for weaponry and ammunition, reflecting upon when he'd first stopped here almost ten days prior, and had discovered the body of Helena van Garrett. It'd been such a shock to him - having seen bodies before, it wasn't what disturbed him, but rather it had been KNOWING the owner of the body that had really shocked him. At that point, him and Alan Shinwrath had been trying to get the drop on Hawley Faust, who'd barracaded himself inside. He'd shot at Hawley and skimmed him. Ironic that he'd first met up with the boy by shooting him.
But now they're all dead. Alan, Hawley, Helana...all of them. All except me, Cody, Jack, and Sid.
As he'd scanned the corpses amongst the hospital, he'd looked over one that belonged to a boy that he knew from school and had met briefly on the island - Chance Burton. It looked as though his collar had exploded, and the boy's once-mysterious gleam had all but vanished from his dead eyes. Adam had tried not to look as he'd gone through Chance's bag, feeling ever-so-much like a graverobber. He hadn't found any ammunition, but when he went to inspect his pockets, he found something cradled under his arm - a small book, one cover missing, a watercolour painting on the back. It looked like such a serene book, yet it looked like something that a girl would carry. That wasn't what got Adam's attention.
It looked like something he'd seen before.
So that he could tell himself he wasn't insane, he picked it up and looked at the first page. It wasn't a usual sort of notebook, and appeared to be a diary of sorts. It had pictures all over the front page, and an identification stamp inside that had the information filled in. According to the diary, it belonged to one Madelaine Shirohara. The pages were yellow and looked as though they'd been wet, and Adam gaped as he pried the small book out of Chance's dead hands. Flipping to the first page, he read the quote affixed upon it:
It's the same life whether we spend it laughing or crying.
I can't believe it...
A small shiver went up his spine as he stood up, placing the journal quickly in his bag, along with his rather large supply of weapons, ammunition, and personal effects. He felt it odd that he'd have found something that belonged to someone who he had become so close to on the corpse of what appeared to be a random kid, but Adam knew better than to question fate.
It's dealt me one fucking hell of a shit hand already, who the fuck am I to question it? What'd even be the point?
Adam had stood up and moved on.
You've got your love online
You think you're doing fine
But you're just plugged into the wall
And that deck of tarot cards
Won't get you very far
There ain't no hand to break your fall
So here he was, standing up above the broken and battered form of Sidney Crosby, who - despite Cody Jenson's best efforts, appeared to be alive and recovering from some sort of throat injury. Jenson, who was just coming around from the blow that he'd sustained courtesy of Adam's heavy flashlight, was now bleeding profusely from his nose, and had what Adam thought to be a positively evil grin on his face as he began to get up. Adam, of course, didn't feel that letting Cody to his feet was a courtesy that he deserved, so he let him know it, while delivering a harsh kick to the midsection.
"Cody fucking Jenson, how about that!? Man, you really had me! I was RIGHT THERE. You could've killed me, and I would've been none the wiser. But you didn't. You helped me out, rebandaged my wounds, and let me go on my merry way. Y'know, I don't know if that's your sick little way of trying to, oh, I don't know, ensure that karma doesn't bite you in the ass too much, but from here on, it doesn't matter. Karma can do whatever the hell it damn well pleases. It can let you be...it doesn't really matter. You know why, Cody? Because I'm here now, and I'm going to kick your ass no matter what. I'm going to kick it, and then I'm going kill you, so you know what my fucking friends felt before you fucking killed them!"
As Cody had gone down, Adam stomped at his midsection a few more times, before delivering a swift kick to the head. Cody's neck snapped back, but he grunted and tried to roll out of the way of the kick. As the boy became slightly out of Adam's reach, he didn't try and lunge towards him but instead took the flashlight he'd been holding and whipped it towards Cody's head, the heavy light striking the boy directly in the face, sending him sprawling backwards.
"Karma? Karma wasn't the one you had to worry about, Cody. I was the fucking one that you should've been worrying about!"
Well
I know what I've been told
You gotta know just when to fold
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
That's right
Spitting onto the ground in front of him, Adam watched as Cody Jenson groaned a little and coughed up blood. As he began to try and bring himself to his feet, Adam kicked him in the face again, and watched him go down, this time his body becoming limp, Jenson's blood smearing Adam's shoe. Glancing at Cody, he backed up and stepped over to where Sidney was trying to catch his breath, and painfully looking at his mutilated hand.
"You all right?"
Coughing, Sidney managed to shake his head, and held up his hand for Adam to see. Adam winced at the sight of Sidney's hand, and glanced back over at Cody's unmoving body. Looking back at Sidney, Adam set his pack on the ground and opened it up, rifling through it, and pulling out a familiar little bottle. He hadn't used all of the morphine up in the waterfall, and while he knew deep down, in the back of his mind, that stopping to help Sidney was stupid, he couldn't help it. The boy was clearly not a murderer, nor was he a legitimate threat to win the game. As such, Adam felt obligated to help him out, being as he was a fairly normal human being, as opposed to being a psychopathic person who was trying to kill him. Loading up the needle - the last needle that he had left, he quickly gave Sidney the shot, and tossed the used hypodermic away.
"There, man. That'll help for the pain. I'm not even going to try to do anything about those fingers, but...the pain should disappear in a few minutes. Just hang tight, okay?"
Nodding weakly, Sidney opened his mouth to try and say something. Adam stifled him.
"Nah, man. Don't talk. Just...as I said, hang tight, wait for it to kick in."
Sidney shook his head.
"N-no...this...important. Cody...he thinks that he's...some sort of larger than life..." Sidney coughed and tried to clear his throat. "...he's convinced that I've taken something from him - that I ruined his career. He thinks...that I stole his dignity, that I stole from him. He'll...kill me if he gets the chance. And you...he's mentioned you at least once...sees you as some sort of...I don't even know."
Adam held up his hand and interrupted.
"Sid. The guy's a fuckin' lunatic. Come on. You know the world of pro hockey as well as I do. Hell, you're in it. Every fucking scouting report on that guy said that he was a fucking dressing room cancer, and when he blew his knee out, people said that frankly, he probably wouldn't have made it anyways, not with his mindset. You stole shit from him. Nothing. He's just fucking crazy. Besides - he stole my girlfriend's life, and the innocence and life of one of my close friends, so he's the one who's got some fucking owning up to do."
Sidney shook his head.
"All...all I wanted to do was play fucking hockey."
Adam shut his eyes for a moment, and sighed slightly, looking back at Sidney with a fierce determination in his eyes.
"All I wanted to do was live past age fucking twenty, man. Now...just sit down, I'm going to go put an end to this son of a bitch."
You've crossed the finish line
Won the race but lost your mind
Was it worth it after all
I need you here with me
Cause love is all we need
Just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall
Standing up, Adam left his pack on the ground beside Sidney. He figured that if he'd misjudged Sidney, all that the boy would have to do was pick up a pistol and shoot Adam down. Though with the way that his fingers are looking, I doubt he'll be doing any shooting of any kind in the near future...
So now that Sidney was out of the equation, Adam knew that it was time to finish off Cody Jenson. The one guy that he'd devoted his time to finding and killing. It hadn't been hard - the finding him. It had taken awhile, but all he'd had to do was outlast mostly everyone else (the actual hard part), and he'd finally found him. So as he turned back to where he'd left Cody, he pondered to himself - how would he actually do it? Would he make him suffer, like he'd done to Madelaine? Or would he do him quickly, just to get it over with? Adam hadn't made the conscious decision to kill anyone in cold blood while he'd been here - most everyone he'd killed had either been attacking him, or a friend. Actually killing someone in cold blood would be difficult, and Adam knew that he likely wouldn't be the same afterwards. Though...it had to be done. Of course, that might prove to be easier said than done, as Adam gasped, pistol in hand, as he turned around to face the body of Cody Jenson.
The body which was nowhere to be found.
Looking around, a half-frantic, half-angry expression on his face, his eyes darted back and forth. Cody's body had evidently gotten up and walked away, or was hiding somewhere, without even a trail of blood to lead him. Glancing quickly around, Adam took a few steps forward, and looked deep into the woods, his back turned to the other side of the woods.
Where again, Adam Dodd would just not see it coming, although he should have.
Well I know what I've been told
Gotta break free to break the mold
But I can't do this all on my own
No I can't do this all on my own
I know that I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
Out the door just in time
Head down the 405
Gotta meet the new boss by 8 a.m.
The phone rings in the car
The wife is workin' hard
She's running late tonight again
As Cody had choked the life out of Sidney Crosby, who'd felt the black spots come over his vision as he was strangled, he had gotten quite incredibly involved in killing his arch-rival. With every snap of bone and every wound that he inflicted upon Sidney, he felt a sick sense of satisfaction and glee - that much was evident on his face. Crosby moaned from the intense agony in his hand, and as Jenson broke his fingers, he screamed in pain as much as his injured throat would allow. The grimace on his face showed how much pain he was in, and as he got a glimpse at his mutilated and broken hand, he felt his hockey future shatter.
God, I'm going to die, and this crazy psycho is going to kill me...I never figured I'd go out like this...
So as he saw Cody Jenson raise the tire iron high up in the air, Sidney did the only thing that he could do to save himself at least some pain in his final moments - he shut his eyes and refused to watch Cody Jenson ram the tire iron into his face.
Of course, if Sidney Crosby had kept his eyes open, he would have seen Cody Jenson bring down the tire iron that had once belonged to Madelaine Shirohara as hard as he possibly could, only to be stopped by a phantom hand that seemed to emerge from the shadows. The hand grabbed Cody's arm, and stopped the tire iron from getting any closer to Sidney. Much in surprise, Cody looked up at Sidney's mystery saviour, and almost couldn't believe his eyes. It was much like a two for one deal. Of course, he didn't have much time to react at all.
"Cody!" The smiling face of Adam Dodd greeted him with a sarcastic-sounding greeting, before he was met with a very solid blow to the face; courtesy of one of the heavy Mag-Lite flashlights that they'd been assigned, sending Jenson sprawling off of Crosby and to the ground.
Well
I know what I've been told,
You got to work to feed the soul
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
Since he'd left the waterfall, the morphine still running through his system, Adam Dodd had taken his time making his way to the River. It was probably the last place that he'd wanted to make a return to, and as he figured that he'd already spent days in the place - which had proven to be more than hellish, he had planned to use up every inch of time that he had to avoid it until the deadline. He'd taken the roundabout route to the River, and had done a bit of scavenging for ammunition. Truth be told, he hadn't found much. Mainly a few clips from the bodies that he'd found as he passed by them. One thing of interest that he had found as he went through the bodies was found at the Makeshift Hospital.
He'd been wandering around, checking the bodies around the area for weaponry and ammunition, reflecting upon when he'd first stopped here almost ten days prior, and had discovered the body of Helena van Garrett. It'd been such a shock to him - having seen bodies before, it wasn't what disturbed him, but rather it had been KNOWING the owner of the body that had really shocked him. At that point, him and Alan Shinwrath had been trying to get the drop on Hawley Faust, who'd barracaded himself inside. He'd shot at Hawley and skimmed him. Ironic that he'd first met up with the boy by shooting him.
But now they're all dead. Alan, Hawley, Helana...all of them. All except me, Cody, Jack, and Sid.
As he'd scanned the corpses amongst the hospital, he'd looked over one that belonged to a boy that he knew from school and had met briefly on the island - Chance Burton. It looked as though his collar had exploded, and the boy's once-mysterious gleam had all but vanished from his dead eyes. Adam had tried not to look as he'd gone through Chance's bag, feeling ever-so-much like a graverobber. He hadn't found any ammunition, but when he went to inspect his pockets, he found something cradled under his arm - a small book, one cover missing, a watercolour painting on the back. It looked like such a serene book, yet it looked like something that a girl would carry. That wasn't what got Adam's attention.
It looked like something he'd seen before.
So that he could tell himself he wasn't insane, he picked it up and looked at the first page. It wasn't a usual sort of notebook, and appeared to be a diary of sorts. It had pictures all over the front page, and an identification stamp inside that had the information filled in. According to the diary, it belonged to one Madelaine Shirohara. The pages were yellow and looked as though they'd been wet, and Adam gaped as he pried the small book out of Chance's dead hands. Flipping to the first page, he read the quote affixed upon it:
It's the same life whether we spend it laughing or crying.
I can't believe it...
A small shiver went up his spine as he stood up, placing the journal quickly in his bag, along with his rather large supply of weapons, ammunition, and personal effects. He felt it odd that he'd have found something that belonged to someone who he had become so close to on the corpse of what appeared to be a random kid, but Adam knew better than to question fate.
It's dealt me one fucking hell of a shit hand already, who the fuck am I to question it? What'd even be the point?
Adam had stood up and moved on.
You've got your love online
You think you're doing fine
But you're just plugged into the wall
And that deck of tarot cards
Won't get you very far
There ain't no hand to break your fall
So here he was, standing up above the broken and battered form of Sidney Crosby, who - despite Cody Jenson's best efforts, appeared to be alive and recovering from some sort of throat injury. Jenson, who was just coming around from the blow that he'd sustained courtesy of Adam's heavy flashlight, was now bleeding profusely from his nose, and had what Adam thought to be a positively evil grin on his face as he began to get up. Adam, of course, didn't feel that letting Cody to his feet was a courtesy that he deserved, so he let him know it, while delivering a harsh kick to the midsection.
"Cody fucking Jenson, how about that!? Man, you really had me! I was RIGHT THERE. You could've killed me, and I would've been none the wiser. But you didn't. You helped me out, rebandaged my wounds, and let me go on my merry way. Y'know, I don't know if that's your sick little way of trying to, oh, I don't know, ensure that karma doesn't bite you in the ass too much, but from here on, it doesn't matter. Karma can do whatever the hell it damn well pleases. It can let you be...it doesn't really matter. You know why, Cody? Because I'm here now, and I'm going to kick your ass no matter what. I'm going to kick it, and then I'm going kill you, so you know what my fucking friends felt before you fucking killed them!"
As Cody had gone down, Adam stomped at his midsection a few more times, before delivering a swift kick to the head. Cody's neck snapped back, but he grunted and tried to roll out of the way of the kick. As the boy became slightly out of Adam's reach, he didn't try and lunge towards him but instead took the flashlight he'd been holding and whipped it towards Cody's head, the heavy light striking the boy directly in the face, sending him sprawling backwards.
"Karma? Karma wasn't the one you had to worry about, Cody. I was the fucking one that you should've been worrying about!"
Well
I know what I've been told
You gotta know just when to fold
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know, I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
That's right
Spitting onto the ground in front of him, Adam watched as Cody Jenson groaned a little and coughed up blood. As he began to try and bring himself to his feet, Adam kicked him in the face again, and watched him go down, this time his body becoming limp, Jenson's blood smearing Adam's shoe. Glancing at Cody, he backed up and stepped over to where Sidney was trying to catch his breath, and painfully looking at his mutilated hand.
"You all right?"
Coughing, Sidney managed to shake his head, and held up his hand for Adam to see. Adam winced at the sight of Sidney's hand, and glanced back over at Cody's unmoving body. Looking back at Sidney, Adam set his pack on the ground and opened it up, rifling through it, and pulling out a familiar little bottle. He hadn't used all of the morphine up in the waterfall, and while he knew deep down, in the back of his mind, that stopping to help Sidney was stupid, he couldn't help it. The boy was clearly not a murderer, nor was he a legitimate threat to win the game. As such, Adam felt obligated to help him out, being as he was a fairly normal human being, as opposed to being a psychopathic person who was trying to kill him. Loading up the needle - the last needle that he had left, he quickly gave Sidney the shot, and tossed the used hypodermic away.
"There, man. That'll help for the pain. I'm not even going to try to do anything about those fingers, but...the pain should disappear in a few minutes. Just hang tight, okay?"
Nodding weakly, Sidney opened his mouth to try and say something. Adam stifled him.
"Nah, man. Don't talk. Just...as I said, hang tight, wait for it to kick in."
Sidney shook his head.
"N-no...this...important. Cody...he thinks that he's...some sort of larger than life..." Sidney coughed and tried to clear his throat. "...he's convinced that I've taken something from him - that I ruined his career. He thinks...that I stole his dignity, that I stole from him. He'll...kill me if he gets the chance. And you...he's mentioned you at least once...sees you as some sort of...I don't even know."
Adam held up his hand and interrupted.
"Sid. The guy's a fuckin' lunatic. Come on. You know the world of pro hockey as well as I do. Hell, you're in it. Every fucking scouting report on that guy said that he was a fucking dressing room cancer, and when he blew his knee out, people said that frankly, he probably wouldn't have made it anyways, not with his mindset. You stole shit from him. Nothing. He's just fucking crazy. Besides - he stole my girlfriend's life, and the innocence and life of one of my close friends, so he's the one who's got some fucking owning up to do."
Sidney shook his head.
"All...all I wanted to do was play fucking hockey."
Adam shut his eyes for a moment, and sighed slightly, looking back at Sidney with a fierce determination in his eyes.
"All I wanted to do was live past age fucking twenty, man. Now...just sit down, I'm going to go put an end to this son of a bitch."
You've crossed the finish line
Won the race but lost your mind
Was it worth it after all
I need you here with me
Cause love is all we need
Just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall
Standing up, Adam left his pack on the ground beside Sidney. He figured that if he'd misjudged Sidney, all that the boy would have to do was pick up a pistol and shoot Adam down. Though with the way that his fingers are looking, I doubt he'll be doing any shooting of any kind in the near future...
So now that Sidney was out of the equation, Adam knew that it was time to finish off Cody Jenson. The one guy that he'd devoted his time to finding and killing. It hadn't been hard - the finding him. It had taken awhile, but all he'd had to do was outlast mostly everyone else (the actual hard part), and he'd finally found him. So as he turned back to where he'd left Cody, he pondered to himself - how would he actually do it? Would he make him suffer, like he'd done to Madelaine? Or would he do him quickly, just to get it over with? Adam hadn't made the conscious decision to kill anyone in cold blood while he'd been here - most everyone he'd killed had either been attacking him, or a friend. Actually killing someone in cold blood would be difficult, and Adam knew that he likely wouldn't be the same afterwards. Though...it had to be done. Of course, that might prove to be easier said than done, as Adam gasped, pistol in hand, as he turned around to face the body of Cody Jenson.
The body which was nowhere to be found.
Looking around, a half-frantic, half-angry expression on his face, his eyes darted back and forth. Cody's body had evidently gotten up and walked away, or was hiding somewhere, without even a trail of blood to lead him. Glancing quickly around, Adam took a few steps forward, and looked deep into the woods, his back turned to the other side of the woods.
Where again, Adam Dodd would just not see it coming, although he should have.
Well I know what I've been told
Gotta break free to break the mold
But I can't do this all on my own
No I can't do this all on my own
I know that I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
Red.
It was all Cody Jenson had seen when the mysterious enigma that had spared Sidney Crosby's life grabbed ahold of his arm and prevented him from delivering a deadly blow to the skull of his nemesis. Cody had looked up in awe and sheer astonishment at this last second interference, and the only thing he saw was the blunt end of a flashlight as it cracked into his nose with a sickening thud. The next few moments were a complete blur to Cody. All he saw was red. The red that covered his entire face and spilled down his bare chest in torrents, the red that covered his arms and hands as he lay in a fetal position on the ground holding his face in sheer agony. Red where the body of Sidney Crosby lay in its prone position. Red where the mystery figure that had been revealed as Adam Dodd stood. Red everywhere.
His glazed-over eyes rolled about in his head until the figure of Adam Dodd came into view. Cody smiled that sadistic smile as he watched Adam from the corner of his eye. In a place and time where survival was the name of the game, this far into the game, with the end on the verge of the horizon, where only one would ever see the light of day again, leave it to Adam Dodd, saint of saints, martyr or martyrs, to extend his hand and help someone who would surely shoot him in the back given half a chance. Did he not realize that when it was all said and done, either himself or Sidney Crosby would have to die?
Cody vaguely felt his body rise from its fetal position on the ground and into a staggering standing position. As he stood up, the entire world seemed as though it were spinning at an uncontrollable pace. Taking a moment to regain some sense of normalcy, Cody's eyes focused on the redhead currently nursing Sidney Crosby's wounds. As Cody's vision finally came back into focus, he grinned sadistically and reached down to once again grasp the tire iron he had attempted to end Sidney's life with only moments before.
You really are a fool, Adam Dodd.
Slowly, quietly, Cody Jenson crept into the nearby shrubbery, his stealthiness attributed only to the last shred of sanity that remained within the confines of his mind. Clinging to the now bloodied tire iron tightly, Cody stared out into the sanctuary of the river, a place that now reeked of death and destruction. Now was the time to add two more bodies to the half dozen who already called this place their grave. Silently, Cody crept through the dense shrubbery circling the river, a quiet shuffling forming the only audible noise as he did so. All the while, Cody never took his eyes off the duo who sat in quiet conversation amongst themselves for those few brief moments.
As he came up behind the two, out of the view of either, the shuffling noise stopped and the words being exchanged between Adam Dodd and Sidney Crosby became clearly more audible. They were talking about him. Cody's eyes narrowed in anger as the vicious and hurtful words spilled freely from the redhead's lips. How dare he! What did he know? He was nobody, nothing! Just some sappy high school student who got thrown onto this island and never had a real chance at doing anything anyway. People like Adam Dodd, they were better off to die here. That boy was a festering nuisance upon the bowels of humanity, and Cody Jenson would see to it that he was eliminated from this game, and all others, permanently.
But then... then there was Crosby. Fate had dealt him quite the hand here and had served up both of those that he had sworn to terminate at the same time. Herein was the problem. Who to dispose of first? Cody couldn't make out the harsh rasping noises coming from the throat of Sidney Crosby. He could, however, hear the audible and booming voice of the redhead quite nicely. Cody gritted his teeth in anger as Adam continued his tirade, never knowing that his words were being taken in by the man who had sworn to bring his life to an end. Reaching up, Cody absent-mindedly pulled himself up onto the lowest branch of the nearby tree with quite a bit of effort. His struggle was made that much harder by the tire iron still being clutched tightly in his hands, but inevitably, he made his way into the tree.
Here, he had the perfect vantage point. Neither Sidney nor Adam seemed to have noticed him, despite the ruffling noise he had made when he'd attempted to climb into the tree. Cody grinned with glee at this fact. His eyes focused in on Adam Dodd as he finished his quiet chat with Sidney and stood up. The baffled and befuddled look that passed over the features of his foe as he suddenly realized that Cody had vanished from plain sight sent chills up Cody Jenson's spine. As Adam looked around dumbfoundedly for Cody, his grip on the tire iron tightened. A sick and sinister grin once again overtook the features of the blonde-headed boy as Adam drew ever closer to his hiding place.
And once again, there was red. Anger, resentment, hatred, jealousy, all boiled up to one culminating point as Adam Dodd approached Cody's private sanctuary. As he raised the tire iron up into the air to prepare for his strike, all Cody Jenson saw was red. In one fell movement, Cody Jenson sprung from the greenery of the tree he had stationed himself in, tire iron held high in a sword-like fashion. Cody fell through the air with what could only be considered some amount of grace, the sinister grin leaving his lips just long enough for a primal scream to emit from them as Cody fell, tire iron held in a position which he hoped would completely bisect the foe who stood beneath him.
Seein' red again...
It was all Cody Jenson had seen when the mysterious enigma that had spared Sidney Crosby's life grabbed ahold of his arm and prevented him from delivering a deadly blow to the skull of his nemesis. Cody had looked up in awe and sheer astonishment at this last second interference, and the only thing he saw was the blunt end of a flashlight as it cracked into his nose with a sickening thud. The next few moments were a complete blur to Cody. All he saw was red. The red that covered his entire face and spilled down his bare chest in torrents, the red that covered his arms and hands as he lay in a fetal position on the ground holding his face in sheer agony. Red where the body of Sidney Crosby lay in its prone position. Red where the mystery figure that had been revealed as Adam Dodd stood. Red everywhere.
His glazed-over eyes rolled about in his head until the figure of Adam Dodd came into view. Cody smiled that sadistic smile as he watched Adam from the corner of his eye. In a place and time where survival was the name of the game, this far into the game, with the end on the verge of the horizon, where only one would ever see the light of day again, leave it to Adam Dodd, saint of saints, martyr or martyrs, to extend his hand and help someone who would surely shoot him in the back given half a chance. Did he not realize that when it was all said and done, either himself or Sidney Crosby would have to die?
Cody vaguely felt his body rise from its fetal position on the ground and into a staggering standing position. As he stood up, the entire world seemed as though it were spinning at an uncontrollable pace. Taking a moment to regain some sense of normalcy, Cody's eyes focused on the redhead currently nursing Sidney Crosby's wounds. As Cody's vision finally came back into focus, he grinned sadistically and reached down to once again grasp the tire iron he had attempted to end Sidney's life with only moments before.
You really are a fool, Adam Dodd.
Slowly, quietly, Cody Jenson crept into the nearby shrubbery, his stealthiness attributed only to the last shred of sanity that remained within the confines of his mind. Clinging to the now bloodied tire iron tightly, Cody stared out into the sanctuary of the river, a place that now reeked of death and destruction. Now was the time to add two more bodies to the half dozen who already called this place their grave. Silently, Cody crept through the dense shrubbery circling the river, a quiet shuffling forming the only audible noise as he did so. All the while, Cody never took his eyes off the duo who sat in quiet conversation amongst themselves for those few brief moments.
As he came up behind the two, out of the view of either, the shuffling noise stopped and the words being exchanged between Adam Dodd and Sidney Crosby became clearly more audible. They were talking about him. Cody's eyes narrowed in anger as the vicious and hurtful words spilled freely from the redhead's lips. How dare he! What did he know? He was nobody, nothing! Just some sappy high school student who got thrown onto this island and never had a real chance at doing anything anyway. People like Adam Dodd, they were better off to die here. That boy was a festering nuisance upon the bowels of humanity, and Cody Jenson would see to it that he was eliminated from this game, and all others, permanently.
But then... then there was Crosby. Fate had dealt him quite the hand here and had served up both of those that he had sworn to terminate at the same time. Herein was the problem. Who to dispose of first? Cody couldn't make out the harsh rasping noises coming from the throat of Sidney Crosby. He could, however, hear the audible and booming voice of the redhead quite nicely. Cody gritted his teeth in anger as Adam continued his tirade, never knowing that his words were being taken in by the man who had sworn to bring his life to an end. Reaching up, Cody absent-mindedly pulled himself up onto the lowest branch of the nearby tree with quite a bit of effort. His struggle was made that much harder by the tire iron still being clutched tightly in his hands, but inevitably, he made his way into the tree.
Here, he had the perfect vantage point. Neither Sidney nor Adam seemed to have noticed him, despite the ruffling noise he had made when he'd attempted to climb into the tree. Cody grinned with glee at this fact. His eyes focused in on Adam Dodd as he finished his quiet chat with Sidney and stood up. The baffled and befuddled look that passed over the features of his foe as he suddenly realized that Cody had vanished from plain sight sent chills up Cody Jenson's spine. As Adam looked around dumbfoundedly for Cody, his grip on the tire iron tightened. A sick and sinister grin once again overtook the features of the blonde-headed boy as Adam drew ever closer to his hiding place.
And once again, there was red. Anger, resentment, hatred, jealousy, all boiled up to one culminating point as Adam Dodd approached Cody's private sanctuary. As he raised the tire iron up into the air to prepare for his strike, all Cody Jenson saw was red. In one fell movement, Cody Jenson sprung from the greenery of the tree he had stationed himself in, tire iron held high in a sword-like fashion. Cody fell through the air with what could only be considered some amount of grace, the sinister grin leaving his lips just long enough for a primal scream to emit from them as Cody fell, tire iron held in a position which he hoped would completely bisect the foe who stood beneath him.
Seein' red again...
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Stepping backwards for a moment, Adam felt a serious sense of dread fill the back of his throat, and as he stopped to ponder that feeling, he felt something heavy collapse on top of his shoulders and back, followed by the stinging pain of something heavy and metallic hitting him in his injured shoulder. A split-second before this heavy object collapsed on top of him, Adam heard the infuriated scream of what could only be Cody Jenson. Falling to the ground, pistol falling away from his body as he hit the dirt hands first, he tried to get up but was stymied by the boy who had landed on top of him. Grunting loudly, he tried to roll Cody off of his back, and managed to partially succeed, though the other boy was grabbing onto his shirt like it was a lifeline. Ramming an elbow into his gut, he heard a loud 'oof' and managed to roll away. As he began to get to his feet, Cody lashed out and kicked him in the knee, sending him tumbling back down to the ground.
Son of a bitch...
Again trying to bring himself to his feet, the pain evident in his kneecap now, he came face to face with the enraged face of Cody Jenson, who was in the midst of picking himself up. Growling at Adam, he swung a quick left hook towards Adam's jaw, which Adam managed to block, only to be greeted with a hard punch to the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, Adam was then knocked back by a small uppercut, which sent him staggering backwards, and let the blood flow freely from his newly-split lip. Blinking a few times, Adam looked up only to see Cody striding purposefully towards him, a sadistic look spread upon his blood-streaked face. Much to Adam's surprise, he didn't aim his attacks for his face, but rather, he kicked him in the shin, sending Adam stepping backwards again. Cody then took a run at Adam and tried to tackle him over. Expecting the move, Adam tried to maneuver himself back so that his back braced against a nearby tree, but the impact hurt just as much as it would have if he'd been thrown to the ground. Cody Jenson might have been crazy, and a murderous rapist, but he was also well-built and had the body of an athlete. Grunting in pain, Adam responded by trying to hit Cody with a poorly-aimed punch to the face. Cody anticipated this, and blocked the fist, punching him squarely in the throat. As his throat closed up on him, Adam coughed hard, and let himself be caught in the side of the head with another hard punch that sent him to the ground yet again.
Damnit! I've got to get some offense against this motherfucker or I'm dead!
As he spit blood into the dirt, Adam attempted to regain his breath, but grimaced in pain as Cody delivered a swift kick to his ribs. As Cody kicked him in the ribs, he laughed, a sound that was most unpleasant. As he laughed, he began to taunt Adam, occasionally pausing to kick him in the side again.
"I don't think you realize how much I've been waiting for this moment. You see, Adam...you and me, we're not so different...and our paths have been set, ever since I first ran into you on this island..." He stopped and delivered a fierce kick to the midsection that sent Adam sprawling and gasping for air. "...ever since the warehouse, when those girls said your name with such...awe. Since then, I've known, that you and I? We were destined to meet up. We were destined to face off. Moreso that Crosby. Moreso than anyone." As Adam attempted to crawl away, Cody kicked him again in the chest, sending him rolling around in agony.
"...in fact, some might say that it was destiny. This whole...scene. It was destiny. Our meeting in the river, it was destiny. You know, Adam...you said something about me killing your girlfriend? Well, I've got to tell you, she was a great kisser...and your friend? A demon in the sack. Especially with all of that blood..." Cody launched another kick at Adam, who this time was ready for it, grabbing his foot and sending a punch squarely towards Cody's testicles.
Surprised as he was to see that his kick had been blocked, Cody was even more surprised when white-hot pain erupted through his body and sent him keeling over, tears coming into his eyes as he attempted to overcome the shooting pains that Adam had caused him. For his credit, Adam was simply trying to put some distance towards him and Cody, so that he could regain his breath.
Goddamnit, this asshole may be a psychopath, but he's strong. I'm no pro-athlete, I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this...even IF I keep sacking him...
Pulling himself to his feet, Adam spit out more blood from his split lip. His ribs and chest were quite sore, and his muscles screamed at him. While the morphine hadn't worn off completely, it was dulled, especially now that he was in such a battle. His emotions, especially. While for the last few moments, he'd been in a primalistic-survival mode, Cody's words began to sink in, and his anger brimmed to the surface. Turning to look at the boy who was just getting to his feet, he reverted back to the pre-'fighting to the death' days and decided that one very simple option was in order. It seemed silly, especially with what had transpired in the last few days, but all in all, it seemed right.
Adam took one look at Cody, and flipped him off.
"Y'know what? FUCK YOU! I’ve never been this angry, this aggravated at somebody before. Hell, I’ve never even thought that I would actually KILL them if I got the chance! But you, Cody? You just take the fuckin’ cake! I mean, you have got to be the most evil fucking person on this entire island – dead OR alive, with the possible exception of Danya. An’ for fuck sakes, man, you even give him a run for his fucking money!”
Stepping towards Cody despite the protests of his aching ribs, he walked right up to the boy and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him to his feet and looking him right in his eyes. Without saying a word, he cocked his fist back and swung at Cody, who just watched as Adam’s fist impacted right into his nose, sending even more blood down his face and onto his chest. Much to Adam’s surprise, Cody then did something that he couldn’t possibly have expected – he grinned a big grin and began to laugh a maniacal kind of laugh; the kind that would give children nightmares. Taken aback, Adam flinched and loosened his grip on Cody's neck. This gave Cody the opportunity that he'd been looking for. Still in a daze himself, Cody rammed his head forward, taking Adam directly in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Shaking Adam's hand off of his collar, he punched him in the kidneys, and then as Adam involuntarily bent over, Cody delivered a fierce uppercut that split his lip open even more, and sent Adam again to the ground. Blood was now freely flowing from both combatants, and Cody couldn't help but remember the last time he'd felt so alive, so energized by a fight. It had been during a hockey game, and if he recalled correctly, had been one of the defining moments of his life.
It'd been back in the previous winter, during a hockey game that he was playing against London. Cody'd been on a tear during the game, and already had two goals and his fair share of defensive plays. He had been sitting on the bench with about ten minutes to go in the third period, and Cody was feeling pretty damn good about himself. The team was up by a goal, and Cody knew that the next ten minutes would be very important, especially because his team was in the midst of a fight for a playoff spot. London, of course, was the team to beat in this particular year, and would go on to become the Memorial Cup champions, as well as setting a record for going undefeated. At the time, Cody didn't know that - of course, because it hadn't happened, but if he had, he wouldn't have cared. In his mind, he was the kind of player who could change the outcome of a game, much like Wayne Gretzky, or Mark Messier could. In fact, in his own mind, he believed himself to be the second coming of Bobby Orr. Forget all of the hype around Crosby - the kid was a snot-nosed punk who didn't deserve to be on the same ice with him. As Cody lost himself within his own delusions (or dreams, depending on the perspective), the rest of the players on his bench watched as the winger on Hartford’s top line gave London star Dave Bolland a huge whack across the shins, sending the referee’s hand to the air and upon the touch of the puck, sending that winger to the box for two minutes. Upon receiving a tap on the shoulder from his coach, Cody had snapped out of his daydreaming, and leapt over the boards and onto the ice to play defense on the penalty-kill. Penalty-killing had been one thing that the Hartford team had been forced to work on; more specifically, Cody himself, as during the game prior, Sidney Crosby had made a mockery of it, scoring four times on the power play, and deking Cody a few times as well. This was one instance where Cody was intent upon proving that he would not be embarrassed like that again.
Lining up on the side of the faceoff circle, next to Bolland, who was one of London’s top scorers and a threat himself upon many an occasion, Cody knew that he would have to shadow his man almost exclusively on this PK, because Bolland himself was gunning for the hat trick, having scored twice during the game as well. As they both waited for the linesman to drop the puck, Cody glanced at Bolland and couldn’t resist making a remark. Anything to get the other player off of his game – something that Cody was pretty decent at doing.
“Hey Bolland, you might want to take a few acting lessons after the game, because that was fucking awful!”
Bolland looked back at Cody with a look of distaste. “Go fuck yourself, Jenson. You’re the one who needs the acting lessons, then you can learn how to act like a REAL defenseman…”
Cody glared back at Bolland, and gave him a swift cross-check as the linesman dropped the puck. The two centremen jostled for position, and Cody again shoved Bolland, who was trying to get to the front of the net. The puck squeezed out from between the two players and was picked up and fired away by one of Cody’s teammates. Unfortunately for Hartford, the puck was kept in by Steve Ferry, one of London’s younger defensemen. Ferry dished it off to the other defenseman on the line, whose name Cody didn’t know. That player held it and drew one of the penalty-killing forwards over to him, then passed it off to Ferry again, who was quarterbacking this particular powerplay. Cody had never had too much respect for Ferry, who’d badmouthed him during a game earlier in the year. Cody had been astounded. Who the hell did he think that he was, trash talking HIM? He hadn’t figured to give him the time of day, nary the respect that Ferry THOUGHT that he deserved. Cody was supposed to be the next Bobby Orr, and Ferry? Not even close. Hell, Ferry’d be lucky if he ever made the NHL, according to Cody.
Getting his head back into the game, he saw that Ferry was quickly examining his options and dished the puck on the side boards back to another London winger. Bolland moved over to the side boards, leaving Cody to defend the space in front of his net. The winger passed it back to the point again, and the defensemen cycled it up near the point, trying to catch the Hartford players out of position. Finally, Ferry dished it off to Bolland, and Cody saw his opportunity. Leaving his position in front of the net, he lowered his shoulder and as Bolland began to skate towards him, Cody lunged towards him, attempting to catch the winger’s left shoulder, which would send him tumbling to the ice, and hard. What actually happened left Cody confused for a split-second, and then fuming with white-hot rage the next. Bolland, seeing Cody’s check coming, slipped the puck ever-so-slightly between Cody’s legs, and ducked under and around him, maneuvering so that all Cody hit was air, and he fell flat on his face. Bolland then picked up the puck, faked a pass to the centerman that had collapsed inwards and was just right of the left post, and smoothly picked the top left corner with a wrist-shot that seemed almost effortless. From his prone position on the ice, Cody heard the loud siren and almost instantaneous roar of the London crowd that signaled a goal had been scored. Growling, he pulled himself to his feet and looked over at his net, where the goaltender was angrily fishing the puck out of the net. He then glanced over at the celebrating Knights players, when the crowd broke up and Bolland skated by him, a big grin on his face, laughing.
“Oh SHIT, looks like you’re still recovering from getting deked the fuck out last week!”
As Bolland skated away, Cody simply stood, a blank look on his face. Something snapped within him, and Cody skated up behind Bolland and, without any warning at all, dropped his gloves, ripped off Bolland’s helmet, and began to pummel the player with punches. To his credit, Bolland tried to fight back, but Cody’s surprise attack let him have the upper hand. That, and the fact that Cody was in a frenzy. All that he saw was red, and he just kept pummeling Bolland in the face over and over again. Even when he knocked the other boy out, he kept on punching. He kept on punching even as the referees pulled him away. He even kept on punching as they threw him out of the game and he walked down the hallway. He just kept on punching the wall, still seeing red, his fists becoming bloody and red. But Cody didn’t care. Cody was happy. He wore a grin that seemed to spread from ear to ear. He was happy, because Bolland had made him look like an idiot, and he’d made him pay. Just like, he vowed, he’d make Crosby pay. It was, in fact, that moment in time, that Cody Jenson decided that he would make Sidney Crosby pay. He’d make him pay for making him look foolish. He’d make him pay for bumping him off the Junior team. He’d make him pay for everything that he’d ever done to Cody, real or imagined. That decision, that of course, was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out how. But Cody simply smiled as he walked into his dressing room. He’d have years to figure out how to do that. Their fates were aligned. Cody and Sidney were both slated to be drafted as top draft picks, and if their paths crossed in the NHL…Cody would wait, until Sidney was on top of the world, and then…he knew what he would do – he would ensure that the smarmy little bastard never played hockey again.
So here he was, and in an oddly roundabout sort of way, he’d managed to fulfill that little goal. Sidney Crosby would undoubtedly never play hockey again – and at the very least, if he somehow managed to live and escape Survival of the Fittest, he would be a marginal player at best. The pleasure that Cody’d taken in breaking each one of Sidney’s fingers had been unmatched by anything else in life – well, perhaps raping Madelaine Shirohara, but he shrugged that off. Crosby had been his mortal enemy for as long as he could remember, always one step ahead of him, always making sure that he was ‘the best’, stealing Cody’s thunder. He had always sworn that he’d make the bastard pay, but the best part was that now, he’d be able to kill him, too. At this point, he knew that the odds of him living much longer were slim, but as long as he was able to kill Crosby, his goals would have been reached. Of course, the small problem that was Adam Dodd had interjected itself right in the middle of the entire situation. Dodd was an interesting problem that Cody had. He’d had an epiphany while on the island that Dodd was in fact that one who he’d REALLY been fated to meet. The way the girls had spoken of him, the way that people had respected him and listened to what he had to say…the fact that he’d killed more people than anyone else…Adam Dodd was the one that he was supposed to match up with. In his old life, it’d been Sidney Crosby, but now…now, it was Adam Dodd. He was the one that was standing in between Crosby and him now, and it seemed fitting that such a ‘larger than life’ figure was being protected by somebody that was supposed to be a ‘nobody’.
My, how the roles have changed…
Now, however, Cody turned his attentions back to Adam Dodd, who was picking himself off of the ground with a groggy glaze over his eyes. Dodd hadn’t been looking for a headbutt in the face, but he’d undoubtedly managed to find one, courtesy of Cody, and that made him smile even more. As Dodd finally dragged himself to his feet and shook his head to try and clear out the cobwebs, Cody stepped towards him and jabbed him sharply in the throat. Adam’s breath again left him, the boy gasping for air as he stepped backwards, going on the defensive. Cody, of course, would have none of that, and he ran at Adam, tackling him back overtop of a stump, knocking the wind out of both boys.
Across the valley, Sidney Crosby was staring at the mangled wreck of his hand, almost oblivious to the battle that was being waged around him. Adam Dodd and Cody Jenson were battling it out, and Adam Dodd was essentially getting his ass handed to him, but all Sidney could do was selfishly look at his own wounds, almost mystified by the feeling that the morphine injection had given him. He felt no pain, only a sense of detachment, as he tried to wiggle his fingers and saw only parts of his fingers actually move. A sense of awe enveloped him as he slowly realized that with such an injury, if he were to ever get off of the island, he’d probably never play hockey again. A career-ending injury, especially if surgery couldn’t reconstruct the broken bones in his fingers. Career-ending. The words seemed to shout at him, and a feeling of malaise fell over him. His hockey career, all thanks to Cody Jenson, would be over. All thanks to some psychopathic OHLer with a bum knee, who had an inferiority complex and a creepy obsession with him. Fame, of course, was not all that it was cracked up to be – that much, he knew. Media following you, stalkers, and the like. So if he were to live, all he’d be known by was ‘Sidney Crosby, former pro-hockey player. Irreperably scarred for life by Cody Jenson.’ It was odd, in a way. Sidney surmised that Cody wanted to harm Sidney so that every time somebody thought of Sidney, they’d immediately bring up Cody’s name too. It was like a tattoo, it wouldn’t go away, and it’s mark would always be left upon you.
Or like a cancer.
Lowering his hand, Sidney watched as the two boys brawled all over the small clearing. Sidney knew that if he were to jump in and help Adam, the odds that the two of them would manage to subdue Cody were a lot higher, but Sidney stayed right where he was. No matter how much Adam had helped him, and no matter how many times he would save Sid’s life, it was every man for himself. A fight to the death. Sidney wanted to live, and he was counting on the fact that in the end, Adam would probably manage to kill Cody and probably Jack, too. Then he’d probably just sacrifice himself, because he’d be so torn up by that point. Which, of course, was what Sidney was counting on. He hadn’t, of course, counted on how the morphine would make him feel in the next few minutes.
As Sidney watched, Cody managed to drag himself up off of the ground first. Adam, who by this point was beginning to weaken, swung a weak punch towards Cody’s leg, connecting but doing next to no damage. Cody just kicked out his leg and knocked Adam back to the ground. Spitting out blood, Cody looked over the area, and his eyes settled upon the gun that Dodd had dropped much earlier in their battle. He was getting tired off this back and forth. Undoubtedly, he was more wounded than Adam Dodd was, and undoubtedly he had internal injuries which would eventually end up slowing him down, enough so that he wouldn’t be able to finish off both Dodd and Crosby. The gun gave him an idea – simple enough, but an idea nonetheless. The time was nigh that he would shoot them both, starting with Dodd, then Crosby, and then, he would finish off with the grand finale of all – himself. Nobody would get the privilege of killing Cody Jenson, and everyone would know that the only person who outlasted him did so because he killed himself. Smiling, Cody walked towards the pistol.
Dragging himself off of the ground, Adam Dodd knew that he was in some serious trouble when he saw Cody Jenson eyeing the pistol that he’d dropped before during one of Cody’s attacks. Cursing under his breath, Adam spit blood – mostly coming from his lip, onto the ground, and dove to tackle Cody as he turned his back to him. Succeeding in bringing the boy down, Adam knew that he would have to get to either his pack or the pistol on the ground before Cody did, and if he could do that, he’d probably be able to take care of Jenson. As Cody went down, Adam launched a few punches at the back of his neck. He knew that if they landed, Cody might stay down long enough for him to grab the pistol and gain the upper hand. His punches did indeed land, but Cody was in enough of a rage that he managed to shrug them off, and rolled over, trying to get Adam off of him. This move surprised Adam, who threw Cody off of him, and lunged at the pistol, which was about seven or eight feet away. He fell about a foot and a half short of the weapon, and Cody, seeing this, threw himself at Adam, sending him sprawling to the ground to the right of the weapon. Picking himself up, Cody ran over and grabbed the pistol, just as Adam grabbed ahold of Cody’s arm and forced it upwards, the two boys grapping over the weapon. Cody tried to fire it a few times, to release Adam’s grip, but the two boys were locked in a mortal struggle for the weapon.
If he gets the gun, I'm fucked. That's all there is to it...
Adam knew that one way or another, things were going to come to a head. He hadn't even thought much at all about what this meant, and was still running on adrenaline, the morphine still slowly wearing off, so with each punch and kick that Cody gave him, the pain was becoming more and more evident. Soon, his body would start to ache and likely begin to give out. As such, he used all of the strength that his bruised and battered arms would allow him to try and keep the gun out of his face, trying not to let the weapon's gaping maw get into any place where bullets would strike his body. Cody, of course, was fighting equally as hard, and while Cody was definitely the stronger of the two, his internal injuries were causing him some difficulty holding onto the gun, so the fight was fair, and even.
From his position a short distance away, Sidney Crosby watched as the bullets went off into the air, and the two boys struggled in near-silence over the pistol that could end up being the end of one of them. It was odd, to Sidney, to be witnessing something that almost seemed epic in its proportions. This was the final four of SOTF, the worst (and possibly last) ten days of his life, and here he was, sitting around, like a coward. Like the coward that he'd known he was since about day six. He thought about it for a moment. If Cody got the gun, it was all but over for him. He alone wouldn't be able to defeat Cody, because Cody had already injured him enough. Cody would torture him, and kill him, and what was Sidney even doing to try and stop that from happening?
Nothing. That's what, you stupid fuck.
So Sidney Crosby watched, as finally, the gun was wrenched free, and the loser was pistol-whipped to the ground, falling and rolling a few feet away. As the boy got to his feet and looked at the other boy holding the gun, Sidney again chastised himself.
You've done fuck-all this entire time. Sidney Crosby, the next big thing, has been the next little pussy. You didn't even help Dodd when you could, you didn't do anything for him at all. Cody broke your fingers, and all you could think about was whining to yourself about your hockey career. This is your life here. You've done nothing. Jenson was right. You are a coward, and a waste of space. This entire ten days, all you've done has been think about yourself, and you haven't given a fuck about anyone else. If Dodd hadn't stopped and literally been tortured and humiliated and almost killed for you, you'd be dead at this point. And what the fuck have you done for anyone else?
Nothing.
It was then that Sidney realized truly, what was going on. Cody Jenson was the one with the gun, and Adam Dodd was the one without, slowly climbing to his feet, a look of sarcastic defiance on his face, shaking his head. Cody aimed the gun at Adam's chest, and grinned that evil, sadistic grin that he had constantly found himself sporting.
"I told you that you were a fool, Dodd. You think that you can kill ME? Your two whores are going to go out with more dignity than you will. Them? They didn't have a chance. You? You had a chance, and you fucked it up. You failed, Adam Dodd. You failed at life. So now, you're going to die, a failure - always to be remembered as the guy who couldn't pull it off. And what do you have to say for yourself, failure?"
Still shaking his head, Adam looked at Cody real hard, and with a defiant look in his eyes, slowly raised his right hand and extended his middle finger.
"Two words, real simple: Fuck. You. Heh. A failure? You've got to be kidding me. Even if I die right here, right now, I'll still be more of a success than you'll ever be. My middle finger has more dignity than you'll ever have. And you know what's great? People are always going to remember you as the guy who stalked down Sidney Crosby. How he was your own personal little obsession. I hope that feels great, man. I really do. When they tell your life story, and really elabourate on the part where it tells about how you had a man-crush on Sidney Crosby, and when he rejected your advances, you killed him in a jealous rage."
Scowling, Cody cocked back the chamber on the pistol. "That's not true, and you know it, Dodd."
Smirking, Adam shrugged slightly. "Nah, maybe not. But that's the glory of it all, Cody. You and I both know that you probably won't survive too much longer, not with the way that you look, or how you were coughing up blood a few days ago. And so when you die, nobody's gonna know. You know who writes history, Cody? The winners. Or, in our case - the survivors. You die, and you never know...all history'll ever know of Cody Jenson was that he was some failed hockey player who wanted Sidney Crosby's cock. So...what d'you have to say for YOURSELF, failure?"
Adam essentially spit the last sentence at Cody with a venom in his voice that trancended expression, and hit Cody full on, angering him to no end. All that Cody did was scowl at Adam Dodd, and raised the pistol towards him.
"It's time for you to die, Dodd."
Cody depressed the trigger, sending a bullet flying towards Adam Dodd's chest. Adam looked at the bullet flying towards him in almost what appeared to be slow-motion, almost in a state of awe at the fact that here, and now, he was actually going to die. He was actually going to lose to Cody-fucking-Jenson, of all people. That, of course, was the last thought that Adam Dodd actually thought...
Dropping his pack on the ground, Adam didn't have enough room to unsling the shotgun from around his back as the terrorist jumped up at him with a look of fury on his face. As such, he just grabbed the strap, and swung the large gun around, driving the barrel of the gun into the man's gut, causing him to grunt and leap back. Taking a step back himself, he saw Sidney out of the corner of his eye, pulling himself to his feet, rubbing his throat and grimacing. Against all better judgement, he glanced at the boy, and with surprising authority, he bellowed orders to the kid.
"Get outta here, Crosby! Save yourself, man!"
Sidney glanced at Adam Dodd, somewhat in shock at the fact that he wasn't dead, thanks to oxygen deprieviation. He hadn't seen Adam since his friends had been killed at the river days before. Thinking back to it, Sidney realized with a start that of everyone who'd been standing in that River, they were all likely dead, except for the two of them. At Adam's insistance to run, Sidney needed no instruction, for he turned, and began to run quickly away from the scene of what was likely to be a fierce battle.
"CROSBY!"
Surprised at hearing his name again, he stopped in his tracks and again looked at Adam, who was eyeing the terrorist, who was still getting to his feet, keeping his distance from the red-head. Adam then turned his head and looked directly at him, meeting his eyes in a gaze that would chill him for the rest of his natural life.
"You owe me."
The blood drained from his face, Sidney felt as though he were staring into the face of death itself. Of course, thanks to some ridiculous stroke of luck, he would live to tell the tale. Nodding almost vacantly, he held the gaze with Dodd for a split-second longer, and then turned and bolted from the area as fast as he possibly could.
...before he felt himself tumbling to the ground as an impact blew into him that literally sent him flying. As the breath again was knocked out of him, Adam wondered to himself if this was indeed what death felt like. He wondered if this was actually how Amanda had felt, how Hawley had felt, as their lives slipped away from them.
Is this all how it's really going to end? Fucking SHIT!
Adam gasped for air, and coughed harshly to himself as the air began to return to his lungs. Frowning, he was confused. Generally, when one dies, they don't lose their breath and regain it again, do they? He hadn't ever seen it happen up to this point, so-
It was then that he finally managed to sit up and look down at his chest, which was free of any holes. The Toronto Maple Leafs crest was still fully intact, which was where the bloody hole would have been if Cody's bullet had pierced him. Instead, he was sprawled out to the side of where he'd been, instead of being thrown backwards. That, of course, could only mean...Adam looked up at Sidney Crosby, who was standing with an odd sort of expression on his face, looking into the woods. Adam's eyes widened as he saw the ugly hole that had blown through Sidney's chest, which was now beginning to ooze black and red blood.
Cody, for his part, was shocked, as he had NOT seen Sidney coming.
With a sudden feeling of urgency, Sidney lunged towards Cody and wrestled with him for the gun, snapping Cody back into the real world. As the two wrestled each other for control of the weapon, Sidney grimaced and turned his head to look at Adam, who was on the ground, shocked at Sidney's selfless act. He smiled slightly, and his voice was even, almost as if he knew that he'd just signed off on his death sentence.
"I guess we're even now, huh?"
Sidney's smile was cut short by Cody regaining control of the weapon and shooting him again in the stomach, the morphine the only thing that was letting him retain his footing. As Sidney looked down at his stomach, he yelled out one final thing to Adam.
"Now RUN!"
Adam didn't need a second warning. Sidney Crosby had taken a bullet for him, which was more than he could say for Sidney's last ten days, and that was incentive enough to try and take a new lease upon life. Jumping to his feet, Adam scrambled into the bushes and began to run down the length of the river, scooping up his bag as he passed it. He needed to move to a new area, somewhere that was of a better tactical advantage, and while the river wasn't the biggest area, and the small clearing was the only place that didn't have a large blockage of trees, he knew that he'd have to find somewhere that was at least out of sight. As Adam disappeared from view into the bush, Cody pelted one last bullet into Sidney's stomach, causing Sidney to stagger back a few steps, and shakily look at Cody one last time.
"I'll always be better."
Using seemingly the last of his strength to utter those four words, Sidney Crosby collapsed to the ground, consciousness quickly leaving him as quickly as his knees were to hit the ground. For someone who'd been a self-labelled coward for most of his life, Sidney Crosby had made the ultimate sacrifice, had made the ultimate selfless decision, and it had cost him his life.
Son of a bitch...
Again trying to bring himself to his feet, the pain evident in his kneecap now, he came face to face with the enraged face of Cody Jenson, who was in the midst of picking himself up. Growling at Adam, he swung a quick left hook towards Adam's jaw, which Adam managed to block, only to be greeted with a hard punch to the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, Adam was then knocked back by a small uppercut, which sent him staggering backwards, and let the blood flow freely from his newly-split lip. Blinking a few times, Adam looked up only to see Cody striding purposefully towards him, a sadistic look spread upon his blood-streaked face. Much to Adam's surprise, he didn't aim his attacks for his face, but rather, he kicked him in the shin, sending Adam stepping backwards again. Cody then took a run at Adam and tried to tackle him over. Expecting the move, Adam tried to maneuver himself back so that his back braced against a nearby tree, but the impact hurt just as much as it would have if he'd been thrown to the ground. Cody Jenson might have been crazy, and a murderous rapist, but he was also well-built and had the body of an athlete. Grunting in pain, Adam responded by trying to hit Cody with a poorly-aimed punch to the face. Cody anticipated this, and blocked the fist, punching him squarely in the throat. As his throat closed up on him, Adam coughed hard, and let himself be caught in the side of the head with another hard punch that sent him to the ground yet again.
Damnit! I've got to get some offense against this motherfucker or I'm dead!
As he spit blood into the dirt, Adam attempted to regain his breath, but grimaced in pain as Cody delivered a swift kick to his ribs. As Cody kicked him in the ribs, he laughed, a sound that was most unpleasant. As he laughed, he began to taunt Adam, occasionally pausing to kick him in the side again.
"I don't think you realize how much I've been waiting for this moment. You see, Adam...you and me, we're not so different...and our paths have been set, ever since I first ran into you on this island..." He stopped and delivered a fierce kick to the midsection that sent Adam sprawling and gasping for air. "...ever since the warehouse, when those girls said your name with such...awe. Since then, I've known, that you and I? We were destined to meet up. We were destined to face off. Moreso that Crosby. Moreso than anyone." As Adam attempted to crawl away, Cody kicked him again in the chest, sending him rolling around in agony.
"...in fact, some might say that it was destiny. This whole...scene. It was destiny. Our meeting in the river, it was destiny. You know, Adam...you said something about me killing your girlfriend? Well, I've got to tell you, she was a great kisser...and your friend? A demon in the sack. Especially with all of that blood..." Cody launched another kick at Adam, who this time was ready for it, grabbing his foot and sending a punch squarely towards Cody's testicles.
Surprised as he was to see that his kick had been blocked, Cody was even more surprised when white-hot pain erupted through his body and sent him keeling over, tears coming into his eyes as he attempted to overcome the shooting pains that Adam had caused him. For his credit, Adam was simply trying to put some distance towards him and Cody, so that he could regain his breath.
Goddamnit, this asshole may be a psychopath, but he's strong. I'm no pro-athlete, I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this...even IF I keep sacking him...
Pulling himself to his feet, Adam spit out more blood from his split lip. His ribs and chest were quite sore, and his muscles screamed at him. While the morphine hadn't worn off completely, it was dulled, especially now that he was in such a battle. His emotions, especially. While for the last few moments, he'd been in a primalistic-survival mode, Cody's words began to sink in, and his anger brimmed to the surface. Turning to look at the boy who was just getting to his feet, he reverted back to the pre-'fighting to the death' days and decided that one very simple option was in order. It seemed silly, especially with what had transpired in the last few days, but all in all, it seemed right.
Adam took one look at Cody, and flipped him off.
"Y'know what? FUCK YOU! I’ve never been this angry, this aggravated at somebody before. Hell, I’ve never even thought that I would actually KILL them if I got the chance! But you, Cody? You just take the fuckin’ cake! I mean, you have got to be the most evil fucking person on this entire island – dead OR alive, with the possible exception of Danya. An’ for fuck sakes, man, you even give him a run for his fucking money!”
Stepping towards Cody despite the protests of his aching ribs, he walked right up to the boy and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him to his feet and looking him right in his eyes. Without saying a word, he cocked his fist back and swung at Cody, who just watched as Adam’s fist impacted right into his nose, sending even more blood down his face and onto his chest. Much to Adam’s surprise, Cody then did something that he couldn’t possibly have expected – he grinned a big grin and began to laugh a maniacal kind of laugh; the kind that would give children nightmares. Taken aback, Adam flinched and loosened his grip on Cody's neck. This gave Cody the opportunity that he'd been looking for. Still in a daze himself, Cody rammed his head forward, taking Adam directly in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Shaking Adam's hand off of his collar, he punched him in the kidneys, and then as Adam involuntarily bent over, Cody delivered a fierce uppercut that split his lip open even more, and sent Adam again to the ground. Blood was now freely flowing from both combatants, and Cody couldn't help but remember the last time he'd felt so alive, so energized by a fight. It had been during a hockey game, and if he recalled correctly, had been one of the defining moments of his life.
It'd been back in the previous winter, during a hockey game that he was playing against London. Cody'd been on a tear during the game, and already had two goals and his fair share of defensive plays. He had been sitting on the bench with about ten minutes to go in the third period, and Cody was feeling pretty damn good about himself. The team was up by a goal, and Cody knew that the next ten minutes would be very important, especially because his team was in the midst of a fight for a playoff spot. London, of course, was the team to beat in this particular year, and would go on to become the Memorial Cup champions, as well as setting a record for going undefeated. At the time, Cody didn't know that - of course, because it hadn't happened, but if he had, he wouldn't have cared. In his mind, he was the kind of player who could change the outcome of a game, much like Wayne Gretzky, or Mark Messier could. In fact, in his own mind, he believed himself to be the second coming of Bobby Orr. Forget all of the hype around Crosby - the kid was a snot-nosed punk who didn't deserve to be on the same ice with him. As Cody lost himself within his own delusions (or dreams, depending on the perspective), the rest of the players on his bench watched as the winger on Hartford’s top line gave London star Dave Bolland a huge whack across the shins, sending the referee’s hand to the air and upon the touch of the puck, sending that winger to the box for two minutes. Upon receiving a tap on the shoulder from his coach, Cody had snapped out of his daydreaming, and leapt over the boards and onto the ice to play defense on the penalty-kill. Penalty-killing had been one thing that the Hartford team had been forced to work on; more specifically, Cody himself, as during the game prior, Sidney Crosby had made a mockery of it, scoring four times on the power play, and deking Cody a few times as well. This was one instance where Cody was intent upon proving that he would not be embarrassed like that again.
Lining up on the side of the faceoff circle, next to Bolland, who was one of London’s top scorers and a threat himself upon many an occasion, Cody knew that he would have to shadow his man almost exclusively on this PK, because Bolland himself was gunning for the hat trick, having scored twice during the game as well. As they both waited for the linesman to drop the puck, Cody glanced at Bolland and couldn’t resist making a remark. Anything to get the other player off of his game – something that Cody was pretty decent at doing.
“Hey Bolland, you might want to take a few acting lessons after the game, because that was fucking awful!”
Bolland looked back at Cody with a look of distaste. “Go fuck yourself, Jenson. You’re the one who needs the acting lessons, then you can learn how to act like a REAL defenseman…”
Cody glared back at Bolland, and gave him a swift cross-check as the linesman dropped the puck. The two centremen jostled for position, and Cody again shoved Bolland, who was trying to get to the front of the net. The puck squeezed out from between the two players and was picked up and fired away by one of Cody’s teammates. Unfortunately for Hartford, the puck was kept in by Steve Ferry, one of London’s younger defensemen. Ferry dished it off to the other defenseman on the line, whose name Cody didn’t know. That player held it and drew one of the penalty-killing forwards over to him, then passed it off to Ferry again, who was quarterbacking this particular powerplay. Cody had never had too much respect for Ferry, who’d badmouthed him during a game earlier in the year. Cody had been astounded. Who the hell did he think that he was, trash talking HIM? He hadn’t figured to give him the time of day, nary the respect that Ferry THOUGHT that he deserved. Cody was supposed to be the next Bobby Orr, and Ferry? Not even close. Hell, Ferry’d be lucky if he ever made the NHL, according to Cody.
Getting his head back into the game, he saw that Ferry was quickly examining his options and dished the puck on the side boards back to another London winger. Bolland moved over to the side boards, leaving Cody to defend the space in front of his net. The winger passed it back to the point again, and the defensemen cycled it up near the point, trying to catch the Hartford players out of position. Finally, Ferry dished it off to Bolland, and Cody saw his opportunity. Leaving his position in front of the net, he lowered his shoulder and as Bolland began to skate towards him, Cody lunged towards him, attempting to catch the winger’s left shoulder, which would send him tumbling to the ice, and hard. What actually happened left Cody confused for a split-second, and then fuming with white-hot rage the next. Bolland, seeing Cody’s check coming, slipped the puck ever-so-slightly between Cody’s legs, and ducked under and around him, maneuvering so that all Cody hit was air, and he fell flat on his face. Bolland then picked up the puck, faked a pass to the centerman that had collapsed inwards and was just right of the left post, and smoothly picked the top left corner with a wrist-shot that seemed almost effortless. From his prone position on the ice, Cody heard the loud siren and almost instantaneous roar of the London crowd that signaled a goal had been scored. Growling, he pulled himself to his feet and looked over at his net, where the goaltender was angrily fishing the puck out of the net. He then glanced over at the celebrating Knights players, when the crowd broke up and Bolland skated by him, a big grin on his face, laughing.
“Oh SHIT, looks like you’re still recovering from getting deked the fuck out last week!”
As Bolland skated away, Cody simply stood, a blank look on his face. Something snapped within him, and Cody skated up behind Bolland and, without any warning at all, dropped his gloves, ripped off Bolland’s helmet, and began to pummel the player with punches. To his credit, Bolland tried to fight back, but Cody’s surprise attack let him have the upper hand. That, and the fact that Cody was in a frenzy. All that he saw was red, and he just kept pummeling Bolland in the face over and over again. Even when he knocked the other boy out, he kept on punching. He kept on punching even as the referees pulled him away. He even kept on punching as they threw him out of the game and he walked down the hallway. He just kept on punching the wall, still seeing red, his fists becoming bloody and red. But Cody didn’t care. Cody was happy. He wore a grin that seemed to spread from ear to ear. He was happy, because Bolland had made him look like an idiot, and he’d made him pay. Just like, he vowed, he’d make Crosby pay. It was, in fact, that moment in time, that Cody Jenson decided that he would make Sidney Crosby pay. He’d make him pay for making him look foolish. He’d make him pay for bumping him off the Junior team. He’d make him pay for everything that he’d ever done to Cody, real or imagined. That decision, that of course, was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out how. But Cody simply smiled as he walked into his dressing room. He’d have years to figure out how to do that. Their fates were aligned. Cody and Sidney were both slated to be drafted as top draft picks, and if their paths crossed in the NHL…Cody would wait, until Sidney was on top of the world, and then…he knew what he would do – he would ensure that the smarmy little bastard never played hockey again.
So here he was, and in an oddly roundabout sort of way, he’d managed to fulfill that little goal. Sidney Crosby would undoubtedly never play hockey again – and at the very least, if he somehow managed to live and escape Survival of the Fittest, he would be a marginal player at best. The pleasure that Cody’d taken in breaking each one of Sidney’s fingers had been unmatched by anything else in life – well, perhaps raping Madelaine Shirohara, but he shrugged that off. Crosby had been his mortal enemy for as long as he could remember, always one step ahead of him, always making sure that he was ‘the best’, stealing Cody’s thunder. He had always sworn that he’d make the bastard pay, but the best part was that now, he’d be able to kill him, too. At this point, he knew that the odds of him living much longer were slim, but as long as he was able to kill Crosby, his goals would have been reached. Of course, the small problem that was Adam Dodd had interjected itself right in the middle of the entire situation. Dodd was an interesting problem that Cody had. He’d had an epiphany while on the island that Dodd was in fact that one who he’d REALLY been fated to meet. The way the girls had spoken of him, the way that people had respected him and listened to what he had to say…the fact that he’d killed more people than anyone else…Adam Dodd was the one that he was supposed to match up with. In his old life, it’d been Sidney Crosby, but now…now, it was Adam Dodd. He was the one that was standing in between Crosby and him now, and it seemed fitting that such a ‘larger than life’ figure was being protected by somebody that was supposed to be a ‘nobody’.
My, how the roles have changed…
Now, however, Cody turned his attentions back to Adam Dodd, who was picking himself off of the ground with a groggy glaze over his eyes. Dodd hadn’t been looking for a headbutt in the face, but he’d undoubtedly managed to find one, courtesy of Cody, and that made him smile even more. As Dodd finally dragged himself to his feet and shook his head to try and clear out the cobwebs, Cody stepped towards him and jabbed him sharply in the throat. Adam’s breath again left him, the boy gasping for air as he stepped backwards, going on the defensive. Cody, of course, would have none of that, and he ran at Adam, tackling him back overtop of a stump, knocking the wind out of both boys.
Across the valley, Sidney Crosby was staring at the mangled wreck of his hand, almost oblivious to the battle that was being waged around him. Adam Dodd and Cody Jenson were battling it out, and Adam Dodd was essentially getting his ass handed to him, but all Sidney could do was selfishly look at his own wounds, almost mystified by the feeling that the morphine injection had given him. He felt no pain, only a sense of detachment, as he tried to wiggle his fingers and saw only parts of his fingers actually move. A sense of awe enveloped him as he slowly realized that with such an injury, if he were to ever get off of the island, he’d probably never play hockey again. A career-ending injury, especially if surgery couldn’t reconstruct the broken bones in his fingers. Career-ending. The words seemed to shout at him, and a feeling of malaise fell over him. His hockey career, all thanks to Cody Jenson, would be over. All thanks to some psychopathic OHLer with a bum knee, who had an inferiority complex and a creepy obsession with him. Fame, of course, was not all that it was cracked up to be – that much, he knew. Media following you, stalkers, and the like. So if he were to live, all he’d be known by was ‘Sidney Crosby, former pro-hockey player. Irreperably scarred for life by Cody Jenson.’ It was odd, in a way. Sidney surmised that Cody wanted to harm Sidney so that every time somebody thought of Sidney, they’d immediately bring up Cody’s name too. It was like a tattoo, it wouldn’t go away, and it’s mark would always be left upon you.
Or like a cancer.
Lowering his hand, Sidney watched as the two boys brawled all over the small clearing. Sidney knew that if he were to jump in and help Adam, the odds that the two of them would manage to subdue Cody were a lot higher, but Sidney stayed right where he was. No matter how much Adam had helped him, and no matter how many times he would save Sid’s life, it was every man for himself. A fight to the death. Sidney wanted to live, and he was counting on the fact that in the end, Adam would probably manage to kill Cody and probably Jack, too. Then he’d probably just sacrifice himself, because he’d be so torn up by that point. Which, of course, was what Sidney was counting on. He hadn’t, of course, counted on how the morphine would make him feel in the next few minutes.
As Sidney watched, Cody managed to drag himself up off of the ground first. Adam, who by this point was beginning to weaken, swung a weak punch towards Cody’s leg, connecting but doing next to no damage. Cody just kicked out his leg and knocked Adam back to the ground. Spitting out blood, Cody looked over the area, and his eyes settled upon the gun that Dodd had dropped much earlier in their battle. He was getting tired off this back and forth. Undoubtedly, he was more wounded than Adam Dodd was, and undoubtedly he had internal injuries which would eventually end up slowing him down, enough so that he wouldn’t be able to finish off both Dodd and Crosby. The gun gave him an idea – simple enough, but an idea nonetheless. The time was nigh that he would shoot them both, starting with Dodd, then Crosby, and then, he would finish off with the grand finale of all – himself. Nobody would get the privilege of killing Cody Jenson, and everyone would know that the only person who outlasted him did so because he killed himself. Smiling, Cody walked towards the pistol.
Dragging himself off of the ground, Adam Dodd knew that he was in some serious trouble when he saw Cody Jenson eyeing the pistol that he’d dropped before during one of Cody’s attacks. Cursing under his breath, Adam spit blood – mostly coming from his lip, onto the ground, and dove to tackle Cody as he turned his back to him. Succeeding in bringing the boy down, Adam knew that he would have to get to either his pack or the pistol on the ground before Cody did, and if he could do that, he’d probably be able to take care of Jenson. As Cody went down, Adam launched a few punches at the back of his neck. He knew that if they landed, Cody might stay down long enough for him to grab the pistol and gain the upper hand. His punches did indeed land, but Cody was in enough of a rage that he managed to shrug them off, and rolled over, trying to get Adam off of him. This move surprised Adam, who threw Cody off of him, and lunged at the pistol, which was about seven or eight feet away. He fell about a foot and a half short of the weapon, and Cody, seeing this, threw himself at Adam, sending him sprawling to the ground to the right of the weapon. Picking himself up, Cody ran over and grabbed the pistol, just as Adam grabbed ahold of Cody’s arm and forced it upwards, the two boys grapping over the weapon. Cody tried to fire it a few times, to release Adam’s grip, but the two boys were locked in a mortal struggle for the weapon.
If he gets the gun, I'm fucked. That's all there is to it...
Adam knew that one way or another, things were going to come to a head. He hadn't even thought much at all about what this meant, and was still running on adrenaline, the morphine still slowly wearing off, so with each punch and kick that Cody gave him, the pain was becoming more and more evident. Soon, his body would start to ache and likely begin to give out. As such, he used all of the strength that his bruised and battered arms would allow him to try and keep the gun out of his face, trying not to let the weapon's gaping maw get into any place where bullets would strike his body. Cody, of course, was fighting equally as hard, and while Cody was definitely the stronger of the two, his internal injuries were causing him some difficulty holding onto the gun, so the fight was fair, and even.
From his position a short distance away, Sidney Crosby watched as the bullets went off into the air, and the two boys struggled in near-silence over the pistol that could end up being the end of one of them. It was odd, to Sidney, to be witnessing something that almost seemed epic in its proportions. This was the final four of SOTF, the worst (and possibly last) ten days of his life, and here he was, sitting around, like a coward. Like the coward that he'd known he was since about day six. He thought about it for a moment. If Cody got the gun, it was all but over for him. He alone wouldn't be able to defeat Cody, because Cody had already injured him enough. Cody would torture him, and kill him, and what was Sidney even doing to try and stop that from happening?
Nothing. That's what, you stupid fuck.
So Sidney Crosby watched, as finally, the gun was wrenched free, and the loser was pistol-whipped to the ground, falling and rolling a few feet away. As the boy got to his feet and looked at the other boy holding the gun, Sidney again chastised himself.
You've done fuck-all this entire time. Sidney Crosby, the next big thing, has been the next little pussy. You didn't even help Dodd when you could, you didn't do anything for him at all. Cody broke your fingers, and all you could think about was whining to yourself about your hockey career. This is your life here. You've done nothing. Jenson was right. You are a coward, and a waste of space. This entire ten days, all you've done has been think about yourself, and you haven't given a fuck about anyone else. If Dodd hadn't stopped and literally been tortured and humiliated and almost killed for you, you'd be dead at this point. And what the fuck have you done for anyone else?
Nothing.
It was then that Sidney realized truly, what was going on. Cody Jenson was the one with the gun, and Adam Dodd was the one without, slowly climbing to his feet, a look of sarcastic defiance on his face, shaking his head. Cody aimed the gun at Adam's chest, and grinned that evil, sadistic grin that he had constantly found himself sporting.
"I told you that you were a fool, Dodd. You think that you can kill ME? Your two whores are going to go out with more dignity than you will. Them? They didn't have a chance. You? You had a chance, and you fucked it up. You failed, Adam Dodd. You failed at life. So now, you're going to die, a failure - always to be remembered as the guy who couldn't pull it off. And what do you have to say for yourself, failure?"
Still shaking his head, Adam looked at Cody real hard, and with a defiant look in his eyes, slowly raised his right hand and extended his middle finger.
"Two words, real simple: Fuck. You. Heh. A failure? You've got to be kidding me. Even if I die right here, right now, I'll still be more of a success than you'll ever be. My middle finger has more dignity than you'll ever have. And you know what's great? People are always going to remember you as the guy who stalked down Sidney Crosby. How he was your own personal little obsession. I hope that feels great, man. I really do. When they tell your life story, and really elabourate on the part where it tells about how you had a man-crush on Sidney Crosby, and when he rejected your advances, you killed him in a jealous rage."
Scowling, Cody cocked back the chamber on the pistol. "That's not true, and you know it, Dodd."
Smirking, Adam shrugged slightly. "Nah, maybe not. But that's the glory of it all, Cody. You and I both know that you probably won't survive too much longer, not with the way that you look, or how you were coughing up blood a few days ago. And so when you die, nobody's gonna know. You know who writes history, Cody? The winners. Or, in our case - the survivors. You die, and you never know...all history'll ever know of Cody Jenson was that he was some failed hockey player who wanted Sidney Crosby's cock. So...what d'you have to say for YOURSELF, failure?"
Adam essentially spit the last sentence at Cody with a venom in his voice that trancended expression, and hit Cody full on, angering him to no end. All that Cody did was scowl at Adam Dodd, and raised the pistol towards him.
"It's time for you to die, Dodd."
Cody depressed the trigger, sending a bullet flying towards Adam Dodd's chest. Adam looked at the bullet flying towards him in almost what appeared to be slow-motion, almost in a state of awe at the fact that here, and now, he was actually going to die. He was actually going to lose to Cody-fucking-Jenson, of all people. That, of course, was the last thought that Adam Dodd actually thought...
Dropping his pack on the ground, Adam didn't have enough room to unsling the shotgun from around his back as the terrorist jumped up at him with a look of fury on his face. As such, he just grabbed the strap, and swung the large gun around, driving the barrel of the gun into the man's gut, causing him to grunt and leap back. Taking a step back himself, he saw Sidney out of the corner of his eye, pulling himself to his feet, rubbing his throat and grimacing. Against all better judgement, he glanced at the boy, and with surprising authority, he bellowed orders to the kid.
"Get outta here, Crosby! Save yourself, man!"
Sidney glanced at Adam Dodd, somewhat in shock at the fact that he wasn't dead, thanks to oxygen deprieviation. He hadn't seen Adam since his friends had been killed at the river days before. Thinking back to it, Sidney realized with a start that of everyone who'd been standing in that River, they were all likely dead, except for the two of them. At Adam's insistance to run, Sidney needed no instruction, for he turned, and began to run quickly away from the scene of what was likely to be a fierce battle.
"CROSBY!"
Surprised at hearing his name again, he stopped in his tracks and again looked at Adam, who was eyeing the terrorist, who was still getting to his feet, keeping his distance from the red-head. Adam then turned his head and looked directly at him, meeting his eyes in a gaze that would chill him for the rest of his natural life.
"You owe me."
The blood drained from his face, Sidney felt as though he were staring into the face of death itself. Of course, thanks to some ridiculous stroke of luck, he would live to tell the tale. Nodding almost vacantly, he held the gaze with Dodd for a split-second longer, and then turned and bolted from the area as fast as he possibly could.
...before he felt himself tumbling to the ground as an impact blew into him that literally sent him flying. As the breath again was knocked out of him, Adam wondered to himself if this was indeed what death felt like. He wondered if this was actually how Amanda had felt, how Hawley had felt, as their lives slipped away from them.
Is this all how it's really going to end? Fucking SHIT!
Adam gasped for air, and coughed harshly to himself as the air began to return to his lungs. Frowning, he was confused. Generally, when one dies, they don't lose their breath and regain it again, do they? He hadn't ever seen it happen up to this point, so-
It was then that he finally managed to sit up and look down at his chest, which was free of any holes. The Toronto Maple Leafs crest was still fully intact, which was where the bloody hole would have been if Cody's bullet had pierced him. Instead, he was sprawled out to the side of where he'd been, instead of being thrown backwards. That, of course, could only mean...Adam looked up at Sidney Crosby, who was standing with an odd sort of expression on his face, looking into the woods. Adam's eyes widened as he saw the ugly hole that had blown through Sidney's chest, which was now beginning to ooze black and red blood.
Cody, for his part, was shocked, as he had NOT seen Sidney coming.
With a sudden feeling of urgency, Sidney lunged towards Cody and wrestled with him for the gun, snapping Cody back into the real world. As the two wrestled each other for control of the weapon, Sidney grimaced and turned his head to look at Adam, who was on the ground, shocked at Sidney's selfless act. He smiled slightly, and his voice was even, almost as if he knew that he'd just signed off on his death sentence.
"I guess we're even now, huh?"
Sidney's smile was cut short by Cody regaining control of the weapon and shooting him again in the stomach, the morphine the only thing that was letting him retain his footing. As Sidney looked down at his stomach, he yelled out one final thing to Adam.
"Now RUN!"
Adam didn't need a second warning. Sidney Crosby had taken a bullet for him, which was more than he could say for Sidney's last ten days, and that was incentive enough to try and take a new lease upon life. Jumping to his feet, Adam scrambled into the bushes and began to run down the length of the river, scooping up his bag as he passed it. He needed to move to a new area, somewhere that was of a better tactical advantage, and while the river wasn't the biggest area, and the small clearing was the only place that didn't have a large blockage of trees, he knew that he'd have to find somewhere that was at least out of sight. As Adam disappeared from view into the bush, Cody pelted one last bullet into Sidney's stomach, causing Sidney to stagger back a few steps, and shakily look at Cody one last time.
"I'll always be better."
Using seemingly the last of his strength to utter those four words, Sidney Crosby collapsed to the ground, consciousness quickly leaving him as quickly as his knees were to hit the ground. For someone who'd been a self-labelled coward for most of his life, Sidney Crosby had made the ultimate sacrifice, had made the ultimate selfless decision, and it had cost him his life.
Do you think about
Everything you've been through
You never thought you'd be so depressed
Are you wondering
Is it life or death
Do you think that there's no one like you
As he scrambled through the bushes as fast as his tired legs would carry him, Adam Dodd found that he had come to a crossroads. It was, in fact, quite an important set of events that he had to make a very important decision about. It was something that, if he made the wrong decision, would likely be something that he'd look back on and curse himself for, at least up until his untimely demise. Looking at the path in front of him, he thought for a split-second, and made his decision. Summoning his strength, he leapt over the small stump and managed to clear it, coming down with a thumb and maintaining his speed. It's kind of fucked up, he thought, that at this point in my life, the difference between jumping over a stump and going around it can mean the difference between taking another breath of oxygen and getting shot in the face!
Wiping the sweat off of his brow as he ran, Adam followed the river downstream a bit, occasionally glancing behind him to see if Cody was following him. Undoubtedly, the boy wasn't too far behind. The fear that had risen in his chest as Cody had shot at him had all but vanished, and yet seemed to be replaced by a strange sense of sorrow. The words that Crosby had said to him with a strange little smile were still resonating themselves throughout Adam's brain, and he couldn't help but hear them, over and over again.
"I guess we're even now, huh?"
Out of all the people on the island that he'd helped, Sidney Crosby had been the one that had directly affected him the most. Of course he hadn't known Sidney before the game, not directly, anyways, and like most people, was at least slightly jealous of the ridiculous talents that he seemed to be able to maintain in hockey, but when he'd seen that Sidney Crosby was in trouble, he'd jumped to the boy's rescue. He knew that Sid had killed a couple of people himself, but Adam almost felt that he...owed it to Sidney, at the very least for taking out his rage upon him once he'd found the carnage that Cody had left behind him. He'd been so torn up inside that he'd literally picked up the teenager and shaken him against a tree, half-unaware of what he was doing, running on the base emotion of anguish. At that point, he'd been a lot more 'together' as it was. At least, that was how he looked at it now. Things had, in his view, degenerated quickly from that moment in time.
I guess that was sort of the 'fuck-up' point of my week, that's for damn sure. Losing my friends...not the best point of the day, that's for damn sure. And here I am, fighting for my life like some kind of animal, against the biggest animal I've ever met.
Stopping suddenly, Adam realized quite quickly that he'd made a very fatal mistake - one that he likely wouldn't have been able to avoid, but a mistake nonetheless. He'd run in the wrong direction. Granted, he'd been running for probably almost ten minutes as fast as he could, but he'd reached the edge of the danger zone. There was nowhere left for him to go. Looking around with concern, Adam considered his options.
Okay...fuck. Maybe I can lure him here and toss him into the danger zone? Nah, that's WAY too risky. I can sit here and die. Oh, that's a FANTASTIC idea! Why didn't I think of that one before? Shit!
Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the river itself. At this point, it seemed to come together relatively closely at one specific point about two feet in front of the danger zone marker. Frowning, Adam knew that realistically, he might not have much of a choice in his options. If he didn't at least attempt to cross the river, Cody would be upon him shortly, and he would have lost his advantage.
Of course, if I fuck it up and fall into the river, then I'm done for, because that current is pretty strong, and it'll push me right into the danger zone. Which would be almost as bad as getting killed by Cody.
Shaking his head, he knew that he'd have to try it. There really was no other option, aside from going back the way he came, which would be leading him right into a potential trap that Cody would have had all the time in the world to set for him. No, there was most definitely no other way. Adjusting his pack so that it was tight against his back, Adam looked around to see the best place for him to attempt to jump the river. There was one area that seemed to jut out a little further than the other places along the riverbank, and it seemed as good a place as any. Taking a few steps back, Adam inhaled a deep breath. His chest didn't hurt as much as it had moments before, but he was certainly winded - the only reason that he'd been able to run away had likely been the adrenaline that was working overtime to try and ensure that he didn't collapse. Summoning all of the strength that he had within his body, he took a running start at the river, and once he got to the edge, he took what he could only think of as a major leap of faith.
We are
We are
We are
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
The river stretched about four and a half feet across – so it was not that long at all, however because of the fact that Adam had been suffering for days from various wounds, was malnourished, and had slept a grand total of once in the last ten days, his energy level just wasn’t as it used to be. If he were healthy, it wouldn’t be a problem at all to clear the river and still have room to spare as he landed on the other side. Of course, now, thanks to his weakened state, Adam BARELY caught the edge of the bank with his feet. Teetering on the edge, he threw himself forward and landed on the ground, just outside of the danger zone perimeter. Dragging himself to his feet, he wiped the sweat from his brow with an exhausted sigh. The morphine, while still active in his system, was undoubtedly wearing off, and the aches and pains that his body had been going through were becoming more and more readily apparent. The bloody stump that existed where his ear had been was still numb to the pain, and the wound that he had on his arm was a constant throbbing that he was almost used to at this point, but the wound that was really beginning to hurt was the gunshot wound that Peri Barclay had given him before he’d stumbled and been killed. The bullet had gone all of the way through his shoulder, and while the impact had been sudden and hadn't even begun to hurt until moments later, it was now proving to be the most alarming wound that Adam had suffered up to this point.
Walking purposefully along the bank of the river, Adam began to retrace his steps. This side of the river bank was relatively shielded from sight; the trees and foliage granted him at least that solace. The problem that he saw was that if Cody Jenson had also crossed over to this side of the river, Adam might not even see him coming until it was too late. All Cody would need to do would be to hide in the thick brush to his right, and then pop out as Adam came by. Mentally, he cursed himself for not thinking about the danger zone boundry. He'd managed to get a new lease on life thanks to Sidney's sacrifice, but he'd managed to fuck it up completely, and now he might have given away every advantage that he might have been able to gleam from the situation.
I really didn't have much of a choice, though. I had to get my pack, otherwise I'm defenseless, and anyone left would have an easy time just picking me the fuck off. I guess that the only solace to that is that if anyone's going to pick me off, it's either going to be O'Connor or Jenson. Which...really isn't much solace at all...
As he retraced his path back to where he'd come from, Adam suddenly had the eerie feeling that he was making a very grave mistake. Shaking the feeling off, he glanced slowly across the river, looking for any movement in the trees. He found none, and a small shiver raced down his spine. The silence in the air was deafening, screaming alarm-bells at him with every single beat from his heart. Cody Jenson had somehow managed to blend in with the trees, and he was doing a DAMN fine job either tailing Adam without being seen or heard, or had wandered off in a different direction altogether. This disturbed Adam, for he had no idea if Cody was anywhere even near him, or if he'd come up behind him with a piano wire, slit his throat and cackle while standing over his own corpse.
Cody's a sick fucker, but he wants to inflict as much damage as possible upon me for whatever reason. He's probably injured so much that he won't survive too much longer, and he knows it. Just wants to live long enough to do me in and then revel in it for however long his body lets him last. Well, I'm not going to let that shit happen, no fucking way.
As he walked along the river back to the final resting place of Sidney Crosby, Hawley Faust, Amanda Jones, and Madelaine Shirohara, Adam's mind essentially blanked itself out. He'd done so much thinking during the past ten days that he was mentally exhausted, and his mind kept blanking out at times, undoubtedly exerted almost to its breaking point. That wasn't to say that Adam would lose his mind. In fact, he half-wondered if he hadn't already. He just figured that the second that his mind gave out, he'd probably just pass out from fatigue. Perhaps he'd have an aneurysm, or something.
Heh, yeah, well...that's always how I figured that I'd go out...fact, it's pretty much the first thing that I thought when I woke up in this godforsaken place. That I wasn't going to die of any brain aneurysm in my nineties. I didn't realize at that point, that I'd likely die of a gunshot wound, or perhaps blood loss at the tender young age of sixteen. Fuck, sixteen. How's that for shit luck. I'm not old enough to drink, barely old enough to drive, and I'm not even legally recognized as an adult. Nobody should have to die before they're at least able to walk into a bar and order a pitcher of beer for him and his friends.
Though, I guess that'd be different, depending on what country and/or state you live in...Canada, the legal drinking age is 19, except in Quebec, where it's 18. Here in the States, it's 21, but in some places, it's lower. So that means that nobody should die until they're ABOUT nineteen, and in most places, twenty-one. Fuck, how's THAT for logic?
But, of course, once again, Adam had to remind himself that people WOULD die before they turned that age, and people already had. Of his class at Barry Coleson High School, every single person who'd been on the plane for the end-of-year field trip had died, save for him, and Jack O'Connor. Two, out of an entire plane-load. That included all of the teachers who'd come along on the trip, and that one kid that they'd executed on the plane. The kid with the hat.
God, I'd known him, hadn't I? I think I had...fuck, what was it? I think it was Comm. Tech with him. Shit, that's right. Kiel Zigelstien. That was his name, right. Danya shot him because of the fact that he was a punk, and no other reason, and Kiel wasn't even that much of a punk. He wore his hat sideways, but that was it. Fucking hell. Kiel hadn't had a chance to survive, like everyone else had. It was bullshit, too. Kiel was a decent guy, maybe a little ADD at times, but you can't hold that against him...he always meant well, and he was always happy. And Danya shot him down for wearing a hat.
Adam sighed, and continued on down the path, still seeing no sign of Cody Jenson.
Maybe Kiel was the lucky one. He died quickly, and as painlessly as a shot to the head can be. He never had to go through this emotional hell. So...maybe he was the lucky one. Ah, fuck, who am I kidding? All of us have been damned from the beginning. Even if we're the last person standing on this island, we're fucked. Mentally, and maybe even physically, depending on how badly you get torn up. Even if you don't die, you're still at least a little dead inside.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
But hey, I'm physically alive, and while I wouldn't go as far as saying that I'm okay, I'm doing a hell of a lot better than anyone else on this island. Everyone's been torn up a little, but I'm still breathing, so that's got to count for something...
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
As he walked, he looked at the river flowing calmly in the other direction. He'd all but lost his sense of direction (what little he'd had to begin with) and he was basically just following the river, hoping that it hadn't broken off at some point without him noticing. If that were the case, he could walk into a danger zone without even realizing it. Of course, the terrorists had "kindly" set up markers that denoted the danger zones, glowing a dull red on the side of the marker that was not to be entered. They weren't easy to miss, but if one were preoccupied enough, or perhaps running for their life from a psychopathic OHL player, it was very possible. Sighing softly, Adam glanced up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was a deep orange. The light would soon be gone, and to fight in the dark would be perilous. Adam didn't want to have to deal with Cody in the dark. While he was insane, Cody was still a formidable adversary, still having the presence of mind to trick Adam into believing that he was 'Andrew Stewart', and then planning several sneak attacks on both him and Sidney during their encounters before. Cody had been training to be a professional athlete, and in essence, he was probably a lot more prepared than the overweight Adam Dodd had been. Cody had been able to hold him off more than once during their last encounter, and that was with internal injuries. Thankfully, those injuries gave him a serious weakness that Adam would have to exploit as much as he possibly could.
Maybe if I kick him in the stomach enough times, he'll cough out his internal organs and that'll be that? Just like in bad horror movies? Shame that this isn't one big fucking horror movie. I'd kill to have a director pop out of the bushes and scream 'cut!' and then have everyone get up off of the ground and go grab lunch.
Finally, Adam arrived back at the clearing where he'd just fled from. This time, though, he held the shotgun in front of him as he entered, prepared to shoot anything that moved. That, of course, was the only logical action that he could take. He was in a fight to the death, and there were only two people besides himself remaining alive. He'd have to shoot anyone that he saw, if only to save himself. It was no different than what he’d been doing for the past couple of days, anyways. While he’d been with his friends, he’d been almost a different person, not capable of hurting anyone intentionally, only in defense…it had never been a ‘shoot first, don’t bother asking questions’ kind of mindset that he’d been in, not until now. He’d been mindful to ensure that he followed his own moral code – which of course, had been skewed during the course of the game. However, at this point, it was almost a moot point. If he didn’t kill them, he would die himself.
I hate this fucking game.
Much to his disdain, there was absolutely nobody in the clearing at this point in time. The telltale lumps from the graves that had been dug sat pointedly at the edge of the area, and (somewhat surprisingly) it seemed as though Sidney Crosby hadn't actually died when he hit the ground. His body was now a few feet away from where it'd been before, a trail of blood following him to the point where he'd finally collapsed. Taking a step over towards Sidney's body, Adam couldn't help but wonder if the boy was even still alive or not. As he neared the body, he grimaced at the ugly wounds in Sidney's chest, three gunshot wounds marking the Pittsburgh Penguins logo in his jersey. As Adam leaned over, his hand extended to take Sidney's pulse, he heard a cracking noise come from behind him, and then a brutal laugh.
"Fuck."
Straightening up, Adam sighed to himself, and slowly turned around, being careful not to make any sudden movements. As the other part of the valley came into view, he was greeted with a sight that he'd rather not have seen - the bloody grin of Cody Jenson, pistol raised in the air, pointed right at Adam's head. Cody stood about ten feet away from him - long enough that Adam might have a stone's throw of a chance to escape a bullet wound to the brain, but short enough that a second shot would likely find its mark. Cody grinned at Adam, an almost gleeful expression on his face as he pointed the pistol at Adam, rendering him in an unenviable position. Adam kept his eyes on the pistol as Cody cackled again.
"I've really got to hand it to you, Dodd. I never figured that - after all this time on the island, you'd actually manage to do something for me, after all that I've done for you!"
"Don't read too much into it, really."
Cody grinned a sadistic grin. "Oh, believe me, I won't. It took everything that I had to restrain myself from killing you when you compared me to Aki Berg, of all people. But you really redeemed yourself, Adam. You know how?"
"No, I can't even begin to imagine."
"You made sure that Sidney Crosby died. You ensured that he died. I was going to save him for last, but you know as well as I do, Adam, that I'm probably not going to last much longer. I hadn't thought about it - what if I died before Sidney, himself? Then he'd go on living, and I would have failed. But you...YOU made it all possible."
Adam's eyes narrowed as he moved his glance from the gun to Cody's face. He shook his head slowly, and an incredulous look passed upon his face. "Me? I made it possible? Cody...you fucking shot at me. I don't have any mind control powers, nor do I have a Crosby-magnet in my chest. You shot at me, and for whatever reason, he took a bullet for me. I didn't make shit, possible, Cody. You shot at me, you shot him, and that's that."
"No, Adam, you're as responsible as I am. You've played the game as hard as I have, and even though we're both playing for different goals, it's brought us both here. Sidney Crosby's death was a masterful collaboration between the two biggest players that this game has ever seen..."
Adam dropped his stoic visage and instead looked at Cody like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. Shaking his head, he surprised Cody by taking a step forward, momentarily forgetting about the pistol that the other boy held aimed at him.
"No. No fucking way. Collaboration? Fuck that shit, Cody. This whole time that we've been on the island, I've been doing two things - protecting myself, and protecting my friends. I managed to do one of them a hell of a lot better than I did the other. People attacked us, I'd fight back. You know, the ol' urge for self-preservation? We were doing all right, until a certain small-cocked rapist came along and eradicated my group of friends. You know who that is? I won't give you a hint, but I'll say this - you know him well. Since then, I've been wandering around, looking for you - looking to do one very simple thing: commit cold-blooded murder for the first time during this game. I'm not proud of myself, but you RAPED my goddamn friend! You raped her, goddamnit. Do you even have any idea what that does to a person?"
"My guess, is that it turns them into a submissive little fool. Just like you've become. Oh, that's right, YOU were raped, weren't you?"
"Raped? Yeah, I was. It humiliated me, it made me feel like I was a worthless piece of garbage. Y'know, I almost died, Cody. There was a point that I wished I had. But once I got out and thought about it, I was glad that I hadn't. You know why?"
Cody smirked at Adam. "Enlighten me."
"I realized that I'd been given a second chance, to make things right. Not for me. But for Madelaine Shirohara. You know who that is, right? Do you?" Cody shook his head, though he knew the answer already. "That was the girl whose throat you ripped out with your teeth. That was the girl who caused you to lose your rights as a human being. That was the girl who I promised that I'd protect. That was the girl that's going to, the end of it all, cause your death."
All throughout his speech, Adam was taking small steps towards Cody, causing the boy to back up a little bit each step. Cody figured that as long as he had the gun pointed at Adam, he would have control of the situation, for he had the gun. Adam knew that in about two steps, this likely wouldn't be the case. Cody was slowly backing towards the graves that had been dug for Adam's late friends.
"As big a figure as you are, Adam Dodd, you aren't the one with the gun. All I have to do is pull this trigger, and you're dead. If you don't have any other 'special powers', you certainly won't be able to outrun bullets. You are worthless, Dodd. As worthless as Crosby, but even moreso, because you don't have any discernable talents. You aren't a hockey god like me. You are nothing. A nobody. You always have been, since your birth, and you will be, until your death."
Suddenly stopping, Adam just smiled back at Cody, and shrugged.
"That's where you're wrong, Cody Jenson. I do have talents. I'm loyal to my friends, and I follow through on my fucking promises. So now, you have to die, and go to the hell to which you belong!"
The life I think about
Is so much better than this
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess
I'm sick of wondering
Is it life or death
I need to figure out who's behind me
As Adam essentially shouted the last bit at Cody, he lunged forward, causing Cody to take a giant, unbalanced step back. Eyes widening, he tripped back over the grave of Madelaine Shirohara, and his hand released the pistol as he toppled backwards over the mound of raised soil. Seeing his opportunity, Adam dropped his pack on the ground and tackled Cody as he tried to pick himself up. The two hit the ground hard, rolling overtop of the grave next to Madelaine's (that belong to Hawley Faust) and onto the ground. Disengaging himself from Cody, Adam wound up and leveled a big punch at the boy's face, striking him and crushing his nose even moreso than it already had been. Seeing Cody recoil, Adam wound up and punched him again. As Cody's head bounced back against the ground, the boy winced, but came up and spat blood into Adam's face, causing him to recoil, his eyes burning with the crimson liquid. Dragging himself to his feet, Cody leaped for the gun that was off to the side of the graves. At about the same time, Adam rubbed the blood out of his eyes and saw Cody's intention. Seeing the urgency of the situation, he dove into the bushes beside the river, concealing himself. Seeing Adam do this, Cody raised the pistol and opened fire into the brush, wildly shooting left and right.
Oh, FUCK!
Hearing the bullets whizzing past his prone form, Adam stayed in a missionary-position in the dirt. As a bullet skimmed his left buttock, Adam grunted, more with anger than pain. Bringing the shotgun around on its sling to the front of his body, he raised it and began to shoot into the clearing, unaware of even where Cody was. As he did this, he tried to crawl along to the river. He'd stupidly dropped his pack, where Cody would have easy access to it. Granted, he still had the two pistols in his pockets, the shotgun, the sword strapped around his waist, and the knife that he'd concealed on his ankle, but all of his extra ammunition was in that bag, along with the Uzi that he'd gotten from Peri Barclay.
This is exactly what I was hoping that it wouldn't become - a shootout, and me without my fucking ammo. If he thinks to look in that bag, I'm a fucking dead man. I could very well be a fucking dead man anyways!
As he returned fire with his shotgun, Adam's mind returned to a time that he had been so close to avoiding this entire situation. At the time, the alarms in his head had gone off, but he'd tried to keep from making harsh judgements. Truth was, he probably should have just killed the kid and kept on moving.
But those are the actions of a paranoid delusional sociopath, and I'm not one of those. I'm just a scared kid trying to get out of this shit with his life, and I'm not going to go around just murdering anyone I see. Well, at least, not at that point...what had it been that he'd said? Almost like he was playing with me...?
"Don't you see Adam? This game is not going to end on its own."
Cody was seized by a fit of coughing, and after wiping the fresh blood from his mouth, he continued.
"We have to end it. That's why we are here. Either we die, or we kill. That's the decision. Now unless you have some vigilante plan to deactivate your collar, run off and kill Danya when you don't even know where he is, much less be able to find a way off this island without one of their boats or another student killing you, be my guest. Be my fucking guest."
"I have to go find a girl, and end her life. The reason I have to do this is that she betrayed me. I also have to find a certain other person, and end his life too. These are both things that are very important for me to do before I die."
Cody grinned, which came off rather spooky due to his missing teeth and blood-filled mouth.
"...and then, I have to find and kill one more person. Perhaps the most important person on this island."
Cody chuckled. "Let's just say he has just as good of a reason to want to kill me."
Adam shook his head as he felt the bullets flying past him in all directions. Evidently, Cody had his own supply of spare ammunition, and seemed to be emptying it into the forest. Leaving the shotgun in the bush, he removed the Ballestair-Molina pistol that he'd begun the game with, and began to fire it back towards the clearing. The old pistol boomed as it fired, and Adam continued his crawl towards the river. He might be able to catch Cody by surprise, though to get into the river, he'd have to stop firing his gun, so that Cody would think that he was either dead or wounded. Evidently, though, Cody hadn't figured out that Adam was staying low to the ground, or else he might have already been shot, and not allowed to get this far. Though, there was one thing that he did remember about Cody.
He's a gamer. Cody Jenson is a gamer, he's been playing with me since the first moment that he saw me, collapsed in the woods. Ever since he did that, he's been trying to fuck with me, trick me, and whatnot. He befriended me under a false identity, and fucked around with my mind a little bit, with my emotions. Even here, when we've been fighting for our lives, he's been toying with me, laughing at me, trying to fuck with my head. Even if he knows I'm by the ground, he doesn't want to kill me with a stray bullet. He'd be gleeful to wound me and then strangle me with his bare fucking hands. Me? I just want him dead, by my hand. So maybe...I can use that to my advantage...
Glancing down at his waist, he unclipped the sabre that he'd been carrying around his waist. Unsheathing it, he dropped the sheath on the ground, and, aiming closely, threw the sword in an arc, hoping to land it in the valley somewhere at least close to Cody Jenson. Waiting for any screams of pain or at least any reaction at all, Adam couldn't help it when a grim smile made its way to his face as Cody reacted to his unorthodox move.
"Adam?! Did you just throw a sword at me? I admire your tenacity, but you can't beat me. I'm going to kill you, and then, I will finally be the best. There is no way around it, Adam!"
Fuck you, and go to hell, you fucking bastard.
Finally reaching the flowing water of the river, Adam crawled past the end of the bushes, discarded the old antique pistol, and removed the third weapon that he had in his other pocket; Andrew Lipson's Mauser M2. As he did this, he essentially jumped into the mud that the river-bank created. At this point in the river, the flow wasn't as harsh as it had been at the point that Adam had tried to jump across earlier, but it still required at least a small effort on his behalf. The shooting continued at the bushes behind him, but since Adam hadn't started shooting his pistol again, Cody was still focused on the bushes, not realizing that Adam was now wading through the water, which shocked him awake, as it's temperature was relatively cool. Wading against the current, Adam slowly made his way down the river, listening to the gunshots that Cody continued to shoot into the woods. Finally, the shooting stopped, and Adam quickened his pace through the river. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Cody as he could, while still managing to get to his pack so that he could get his spare ammunition and Uzi. Hearing Cody's footsteps traipsing off into the bush, Adam seized his opportunity. As soon as he heard Cody push through the tree-line, he himself dove out of the water and into the valley, essentially switching sides with Cody. This, of course, disabled his cover, but gave him access to his pack, which was lying on the ground on the other side of the valley. Glancing at the sword that he'd tossed at Cody, which had oddly enough, ended up sticking right out of the ground on the other side of the valley, Adam made a run for his pack.
We are
We are
We are
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
Having only the one chance at the pack, Adam sped towards the small bag that held all of his ammunition and the rest of his weapons in it. He bore down and reached out for it, but had to jump out of the way as he heard gunshots coming out of the bushes. This time, Cody Jenson himself stepped out of the area where he'd just walked into, an angry look on his face, likely about having to move about to try and kill his prey.
Prey? Fuck that shit. I'm nobody's prey! In fact, Cody Jenson is MY fucking prey! What the fuck am I doing? I'm running from him like he's been the one chasing me for this entire time! But he hasn't! He's tried to fuck with my head on every opportunity, and it looks like he's done just that! Fuck it, you're the one who's vowed to kill HIM, not the other way around!
As he realized that, the figuretive 'light' went on over Adam's head. The lightbulb was on, and Adam realized what he was doing wrong. The entire fight had been spent on the defensive, while Cody Jenson attacked him relentlessly. Instead, Adam would need to take to the offense, and put CODY on the defensive, and see how he reacted to it. Odds were that Cody, a person who was quite good at attacking people, likely had at least a slight weakness when it came to defending against attack, and Adam intended to expose this.
I just hope that I'm right - he's been pretty fucking solid at defending against me so far...I guess I'll just have to wait for some moment where his attention is somewhere else, and then do something that he just isn't going to expect. Who knows whatever the fuck THAT'll be? But in the time being, I'll just shoot at him!
Raising his pistol, Adam knew that exposing a potential weakness of Cody's would be difficult. Cody was a well-rounded fighter, and while the glaring weakness would say that his internal injuries could be used as something, Adam didn't see what. Cody had done as good a job as anyone he'd ever seen getting over those, and while his time on the island might have been numbered as a result, he didn't seem to care, and likely it wouldn't have mattered one way or another. Scrambling up, Adam pulled the trigger of the pistol and squeezed shots off towards where Cody was standing, dropping and rolling as his opponent shot bullets towards him as well. Neither boy seemed to be doing that great of a job hitting the other, as bullets flew everywhere, partially due to their awful aim, partially due to the effort that each boy was doing to avoid getting shot. It was almost like a macabre dance around the pack on the ground, though Cody hadn't looked at it yet, and was instead glaring at Adam Dodd, grinning like a madman and managing to look psychotic at the same time.
Finally the bullets stopped as both boys turned to face one another, standing about twelve feet apart, guns held at the other. Cody continued his grin, while Adam had a look of pure exhaustion on his face. Without any hesitation, Adam pulled the trigger on his gun, only to have the blood run from his face as he heard a loud 'CLICK', signifying that the gun was empty, and Adam had no more ammunition. With that grin still pasted on to his bloody face, Cody looked at Adam, and pulled the trigger, a loud 'CLICK' coming from his pistol as well. The lump in Adam's throat which had jumped to the top of his head when Cody had pulled the trigger settled back down, but now the two stood in a standoff, pointing two completely empty pistols at the other, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Figuring the idea to be a good one, Adam tossed his pistol at Cody, catching him off guard, and running towards him in a high tackle. Cody, surprised by the attack, recovered enough to see this coming, and bent over and essentially 'hip-checked' Adam, a move wholly reminiscent of Sidney Crosby's attack on Elijah Rice back in the Woods. Adam didn't expect such a move, though he should have, and as such, he was sent flying through the air, overtop of Cody and falling hard onto the ground, rolling past the prone body of Sidney Crosby, and coming to a rest beside the sword that was sticking out of the ground. The wind knocked out of him, Adam winced on the ground, grimacing at the pain that his flight had given him. His entire body was aching now, and the morphine, which had been dulling his pain, seemed to have stopped.
The life I think about
Is so much better than this
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess
I'm sick of wondering
Is it life or death?
As the wind came back into his body, Adam rolled over and groaned. His landing seemed to have dislocated his shoulder, which was hanging limply at his side, causing agonizing pain to flow throughout his body. Clenching his teeth and trying to see through the tears caused by the white-hot pain, Adam was able to see Cody laughing at him, and then taking a spare cartidge out of his pocket, loading it into his pistol, which he checked, and then walked over and stood overtop of Adam.
"So this is how it's going to end, Dodd. It's almost ironic, isn't it? Your life, as you know it, felled by a simple thing that you really should have seen coming. I mean, come on, Adam! You claimed that you're such a hockey fan, how could you have missed that I was going to hip-check you, of all things? You were supposed to be number one, Dodd. The best. You were the one standing in my way to becoming the best, not Crosby, not anyone else. And here it is, that you've become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's your own damn fault, Adam Dodd. You missed what should have been really obvious to a HOCKEY fan, of all things, and you ended up with what? A bruised ego, a dislocated shoulder, and a bullet in the brain for your troubles. I'm really going to enjoy killing you, Adam Dodd. I'll complete the hat trick. First I killed your bitch, then I killed her friend, and now, I'm finishing it off with you..."
Cody's pistol was pointed squarely at Adam, who could hardly think through the pain that he was feeling thanks to his newly-dislocated shoulder. Still, though, he heard what the boy was saying, and swore to himself that he wouldn't go down without a fight. As such, he tried to rise to his feet, and only got a part of the way up before Cody, who intended to inflict as much pain upon him as he could before he shot him, booted him hard in the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground again. Much to Adam's surprise, though, the pain in his shoulder ceased as soon as Cody's boot kicked him. That momentary shock was again dulled by the impact of his back upon the ground, but he knew exactly what Cody had just done - he'd re-set his shoulder back into place. It didn't seem like he'd be able to do much about it before he was shot, but if he could somehow distract Cody...
What the hell would distract Cody enough to get him to look away, so I could pull this sword out of the ground and ram him with it?
Grimacing again as Cody looked at him, Adam opted to continue with the facade of the shoulder injury, as Cody likely wasn't aware as to what he had done. Scrunching his face into a pain-filled mask, Adam tried the only thing that possibly came to mind; the only thing that might possibly save him from the imposing visage of the most immoral, psychotic person still left alive on the island.
"C-Crosby! He's right...he's right behind you! He's...alive!"
Adam managed to spit that phrase out, before realizing how stupid that it sounded. Crosby was indeed behind Cody, yet he was lying dead on the ground, a victim of several shots to the chest. Cody knew this, as he had been the one who'd killed Sidney, who'd shot him several times, and had enjoyed it immensely. To his credit, Cody didn't buy Adam's tactics at all. Instead, he raised one eyebrow, and really sarcastically glanced down at Sidney's corpse on the ground below him. Snorting, he put his hands to his face in mock fear.
"Oh no! Not Sidney Crosby! What is he going to do, kill me with his smell? Did you really think that I'm that stupid, Dodd? Did you really think that you'd be able to fool me with that? You're pathetic. More pathetic then that dead bitch of yours, and more pathetic then that other one that showed me so much of a good time. Oh, and Adam...before I kill you, I should really tell you - she begged for me to give it to her before I tore her throat out."
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
As Cody raised his pistol to aim at Adam Dodd, Adam's shoulders sagged. He had nothing else up his sleeve, no weapons hidden in his pockets, and the closest thing that he had to a concealed weapon was the knife that he had strapped around his ankle. He was done for.
And this is how it's going to go. Cody Jenson will shoot me to death, and I'll have let down everyone else. Man, I really fucking suck at keeping promises...
Looking right into Adam's eyes, Cody smiled as his finger tightened around the trigger. What happened next shocked every single person who would ever watch the ending moments of Survival of the Fittest, that people would see and undoubtedly wonder how such a thing was even possible.
A hand reached out from behind Cody Jenson and grabbed his leg, causing the boy to turn around in absolute horror, staring at what looked like a very dead Sidney Crosby grabbing on to his leg, a venomous look in his eyes. Cody was so frightened at that moment in time that he literally wet himself. Crosby stared up at him and said one thing, that chilled even the veins of Adam Dodd, who watched the exchange with a sudden shock.
"You can't kill me, you stupid fuck! I'm Sidney Crosby, and you're a fucking nobody!"
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd (Crowd)
(We stand) We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd (We Stand)
We stand above the crowd
Cody, so horrified at the fact that Sidney Crosby had seemingly come back from the dead, turned around completely and pointed his pistol at the zombie that latched itself upon to his leg. In actuality, Sidney Crosby was not actually dead, nor had he died when he'd collapsed before. Instead of dying like Cody had intended him to, Sidney had bled internally for a few moments, waking up sporadically, trying to drag himself around the valley - thus leaving the bloody trails in his wake. He'd finally collapsed in his present position, simply waiting for death to overtake him, when Cody and Adam had began to brawl around the area. During their standoff, Sidney had felt the clutches of death begin to come for him, and when he'd glanced up to see the outcome of the battle, and seen that Cody was the one who'd held the upper hand, he pushed all of the strength that remained in his body to trying to bring Cody Jenson down.
Cody, still entranced with the feeling of horror, aimed his pistol with two hands, and shot Sidney square between the eyes, blowing half of his head clean off.
Kicking Sidney's now-dead body off of him, he shook uncontrollably, and shot at Sidney's corpse again and again, trying to kill he who cannot be killed. At least, according to Cody. After reducing what was left of Sidney's head into jelly with his pistol, Cody screamed at the boy's corpse.
"THERE! THERE YOU GO, YOU BASTARD! YOU WON'T TAKE ANYTHING ELSE FROM ME EVER AGAIN! THE GREAT SIDNEY CROSBY NOW LIES IN PIECES!"
Still shaking, Cody turned around just in time for the business-end of a sword to pierce through his chest and run him back and into a nearby tree.
(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd
(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowd
(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd
(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowd
As Adam had watched in horror as Sidney Crosby had seemingly managed to come back from beyond the grave and interject himself upon the proceedings, he quickly realized that NOW was in fact the only chance that he would have to turn the tides in his favour. Cody Jenson was stronger than he was, he was more agile, faster, and at this point, had a better weapon than Adam had. Adam knew that if he did nothing, he was all but dead. So when Cody turned around and began to scream at Cody, he reached around and with all of his effort, ripped the sabre out of the ground. As he climbed to his feet, he heard the gunshots that Cody was firing at Sidney's body, and he run at Cody, holding the sword like he'd seen so many movie characters do. Cody turned just in time for the sword to plunge through his chest, sending the gun he held in his hands falling to the ground, and sending Cody himself back into a tree, which Adam ran towards with all of his might, finally falling backwards when the sword impaled itself (and Cody) on the thick tree that they'd fallen back into. The wind knocked out of him again, Adam tried to shrug it off, and climbed to his feet to survey the damage. What he saw seemed to lift a gigantic weight off of his shoulders.
Cody Jenson was pinned to the tree, sword sticking right through his chest, blood running down his body and pooling at his feet. Cody, who was still alive, looked at the sword sticking out of his chest, and seemed to have a puzzled look on his face. Moving from the sword to Adam, who was standing in front of him, Cody tilted his head, and began to try and force himself forward, off of the sword so that he could get at Adam! Adam took a step back, surprised at the tactic, and looked at Cody for what he hoped was the final time. His words seemed hollow, and he hoped that he'd be able to speak them for the final time.
"You can't fucking admit when you're beaten, can you? Y'know what, Cody? In another lifetime, we might've been friends. You liked hockey, so did I. You seemed like a decent enough guy in the woods when I met up with you. Really, I mean that. I wouldn't have given you a second glance in this game, Cody. I was too busy trying to survive, with my friends. Friends who YOU took away. And for what purpose? To establish yourself as a better...killer than Sidney Crosby? Was that it? Or did you just have enough of an inferiority complex that you had to try and rape your way to the top? You didn't even know who it was that you killed, Cody. Madelaine Shirohara. Amanda Jones. You want to know why it is that you're going to die, Cody? You REALLY want to know? Those four words, those two names. Madelaine Shirohara, and Amanda Jones. They'll live on forever, and a scumbag like you? You'll be forgotten, Cody Jenson. You'll be forever known to history as a pathetic loser who wasn't worth remembering, and I'm glad that I could be the one to make that happen for you."
Suddenly retaining a burst of strength, Cody pushed himself forward on the sword, making a last grab at Adam, to try and choke him to death. Instead, Adam kicked him back to the tree, where the blood began to flow even more. It seemed as though the sword had now cut through an artery, and the next thing that Cody Jenson experienced would be death. Looking at Adam with a puzzled glance, he half smirked, and said what would prove to be his final words.
"You...you compared me to Aki Berg..."
Smiling now, Adam laughed out loud as he watched Cody Jenson die.
"You're damned right that I did. Aki Berg is twenty times the player that you'll ever be, Cody, and five minutes from now, you'll be dead. I hope you enjoy your eternity of damnation in the lowest cesspool of hell, because that is where you fucking belong. Words cannot express how fucking much I hate you, Cody, and as you die, the last thing that I want you to feel is me carving your legacy into your flesh."
Reaching down, Adam grabbed the knife from within his ankle-sheath. Extracting it, he grabbed ahold of Cody's shirt and cut it wide open, exposing a well-toned body, black and purple from the various wounds that he'd recieved, with a sword sticking out of the upper half of his chest. Taking the knife, Adam then proceeded to carve one word into Cody's chest, taking great pleasure in the boy's grunts, and enjoying the agony that he was causing the boy.
Cody Jenson died as Adam was carving the 'P'.
As he finished carving the one single word into Cody's Chest, Adam sighed, and looked back at the gory visage of what had used to be Cody Jenson, the word 'RAPIST' carved into his chest. Replacing the knife back into his ankle-sheath, Adam took one look at the corpse of Cody Jenson, and for the first time in over ten days, smiled a smile of pure joy. He'd done it. Adam Dodd had killed Cody Jenson.
Striding back over to his pack that was still sitting on the ground, he finally grabbed it again, and opened it up. Rummaging through it, he grabbed out his Uzi, as well as the Colt .45 pistol that he'd found somewhere along the line. He also reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, downing the entire thing in mere seconds, which gave a slight solace to his pounding body. It was almost like his entire body was hurting in unison, that it was one big wound. Dropping the empty bottle on the ground, he checked the Uzi to see that it was loaded. It was. He then took a look around and surveyed the area. On the ground was the body of what used to be Sidney Crosby, multiple gunshot wounds in the chest and his entire head essentially shot up. Stapled to a tree was Cody Jenson, a sword through his chest, and 'RAPIST' carved into his chest. Alive, slinging his pack over his shoulder, was Adam Dodd.
"Well, that's three of us accounted for...now where the fuck is Jack O'Connor?"
As he readied his weapons, Adam looked up at the darkening sky, and sighed deeply. Here he was, this was it. The final battle.
From one-twenty-three to two, and here we go...
B87 - CROSBY, SIDNEY - DECEASED... 3 STUDENTS REMAINING
B50 - JENSON, CODY - DECEASED... 2 STUDENTS REMAINING
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
Everything you've been through
You never thought you'd be so depressed
Are you wondering
Is it life or death
Do you think that there's no one like you
As he scrambled through the bushes as fast as his tired legs would carry him, Adam Dodd found that he had come to a crossroads. It was, in fact, quite an important set of events that he had to make a very important decision about. It was something that, if he made the wrong decision, would likely be something that he'd look back on and curse himself for, at least up until his untimely demise. Looking at the path in front of him, he thought for a split-second, and made his decision. Summoning his strength, he leapt over the small stump and managed to clear it, coming down with a thumb and maintaining his speed. It's kind of fucked up, he thought, that at this point in my life, the difference between jumping over a stump and going around it can mean the difference between taking another breath of oxygen and getting shot in the face!
Wiping the sweat off of his brow as he ran, Adam followed the river downstream a bit, occasionally glancing behind him to see if Cody was following him. Undoubtedly, the boy wasn't too far behind. The fear that had risen in his chest as Cody had shot at him had all but vanished, and yet seemed to be replaced by a strange sense of sorrow. The words that Crosby had said to him with a strange little smile were still resonating themselves throughout Adam's brain, and he couldn't help but hear them, over and over again.
"I guess we're even now, huh?"
Out of all the people on the island that he'd helped, Sidney Crosby had been the one that had directly affected him the most. Of course he hadn't known Sidney before the game, not directly, anyways, and like most people, was at least slightly jealous of the ridiculous talents that he seemed to be able to maintain in hockey, but when he'd seen that Sidney Crosby was in trouble, he'd jumped to the boy's rescue. He knew that Sid had killed a couple of people himself, but Adam almost felt that he...owed it to Sidney, at the very least for taking out his rage upon him once he'd found the carnage that Cody had left behind him. He'd been so torn up inside that he'd literally picked up the teenager and shaken him against a tree, half-unaware of what he was doing, running on the base emotion of anguish. At that point, he'd been a lot more 'together' as it was. At least, that was how he looked at it now. Things had, in his view, degenerated quickly from that moment in time.
I guess that was sort of the 'fuck-up' point of my week, that's for damn sure. Losing my friends...not the best point of the day, that's for damn sure. And here I am, fighting for my life like some kind of animal, against the biggest animal I've ever met.
Stopping suddenly, Adam realized quite quickly that he'd made a very fatal mistake - one that he likely wouldn't have been able to avoid, but a mistake nonetheless. He'd run in the wrong direction. Granted, he'd been running for probably almost ten minutes as fast as he could, but he'd reached the edge of the danger zone. There was nowhere left for him to go. Looking around with concern, Adam considered his options.
Okay...fuck. Maybe I can lure him here and toss him into the danger zone? Nah, that's WAY too risky. I can sit here and die. Oh, that's a FANTASTIC idea! Why didn't I think of that one before? Shit!
Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the river itself. At this point, it seemed to come together relatively closely at one specific point about two feet in front of the danger zone marker. Frowning, Adam knew that realistically, he might not have much of a choice in his options. If he didn't at least attempt to cross the river, Cody would be upon him shortly, and he would have lost his advantage.
Of course, if I fuck it up and fall into the river, then I'm done for, because that current is pretty strong, and it'll push me right into the danger zone. Which would be almost as bad as getting killed by Cody.
Shaking his head, he knew that he'd have to try it. There really was no other option, aside from going back the way he came, which would be leading him right into a potential trap that Cody would have had all the time in the world to set for him. No, there was most definitely no other way. Adjusting his pack so that it was tight against his back, Adam looked around to see the best place for him to attempt to jump the river. There was one area that seemed to jut out a little further than the other places along the riverbank, and it seemed as good a place as any. Taking a few steps back, Adam inhaled a deep breath. His chest didn't hurt as much as it had moments before, but he was certainly winded - the only reason that he'd been able to run away had likely been the adrenaline that was working overtime to try and ensure that he didn't collapse. Summoning all of the strength that he had within his body, he took a running start at the river, and once he got to the edge, he took what he could only think of as a major leap of faith.
We are
We are
We are
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
The river stretched about four and a half feet across – so it was not that long at all, however because of the fact that Adam had been suffering for days from various wounds, was malnourished, and had slept a grand total of once in the last ten days, his energy level just wasn’t as it used to be. If he were healthy, it wouldn’t be a problem at all to clear the river and still have room to spare as he landed on the other side. Of course, now, thanks to his weakened state, Adam BARELY caught the edge of the bank with his feet. Teetering on the edge, he threw himself forward and landed on the ground, just outside of the danger zone perimeter. Dragging himself to his feet, he wiped the sweat from his brow with an exhausted sigh. The morphine, while still active in his system, was undoubtedly wearing off, and the aches and pains that his body had been going through were becoming more and more readily apparent. The bloody stump that existed where his ear had been was still numb to the pain, and the wound that he had on his arm was a constant throbbing that he was almost used to at this point, but the wound that was really beginning to hurt was the gunshot wound that Peri Barclay had given him before he’d stumbled and been killed. The bullet had gone all of the way through his shoulder, and while the impact had been sudden and hadn't even begun to hurt until moments later, it was now proving to be the most alarming wound that Adam had suffered up to this point.
Walking purposefully along the bank of the river, Adam began to retrace his steps. This side of the river bank was relatively shielded from sight; the trees and foliage granted him at least that solace. The problem that he saw was that if Cody Jenson had also crossed over to this side of the river, Adam might not even see him coming until it was too late. All Cody would need to do would be to hide in the thick brush to his right, and then pop out as Adam came by. Mentally, he cursed himself for not thinking about the danger zone boundry. He'd managed to get a new lease on life thanks to Sidney's sacrifice, but he'd managed to fuck it up completely, and now he might have given away every advantage that he might have been able to gleam from the situation.
I really didn't have much of a choice, though. I had to get my pack, otherwise I'm defenseless, and anyone left would have an easy time just picking me the fuck off. I guess that the only solace to that is that if anyone's going to pick me off, it's either going to be O'Connor or Jenson. Which...really isn't much solace at all...
As he retraced his path back to where he'd come from, Adam suddenly had the eerie feeling that he was making a very grave mistake. Shaking the feeling off, he glanced slowly across the river, looking for any movement in the trees. He found none, and a small shiver raced down his spine. The silence in the air was deafening, screaming alarm-bells at him with every single beat from his heart. Cody Jenson had somehow managed to blend in with the trees, and he was doing a DAMN fine job either tailing Adam without being seen or heard, or had wandered off in a different direction altogether. This disturbed Adam, for he had no idea if Cody was anywhere even near him, or if he'd come up behind him with a piano wire, slit his throat and cackle while standing over his own corpse.
Cody's a sick fucker, but he wants to inflict as much damage as possible upon me for whatever reason. He's probably injured so much that he won't survive too much longer, and he knows it. Just wants to live long enough to do me in and then revel in it for however long his body lets him last. Well, I'm not going to let that shit happen, no fucking way.
As he walked along the river back to the final resting place of Sidney Crosby, Hawley Faust, Amanda Jones, and Madelaine Shirohara, Adam's mind essentially blanked itself out. He'd done so much thinking during the past ten days that he was mentally exhausted, and his mind kept blanking out at times, undoubtedly exerted almost to its breaking point. That wasn't to say that Adam would lose his mind. In fact, he half-wondered if he hadn't already. He just figured that the second that his mind gave out, he'd probably just pass out from fatigue. Perhaps he'd have an aneurysm, or something.
Heh, yeah, well...that's always how I figured that I'd go out...fact, it's pretty much the first thing that I thought when I woke up in this godforsaken place. That I wasn't going to die of any brain aneurysm in my nineties. I didn't realize at that point, that I'd likely die of a gunshot wound, or perhaps blood loss at the tender young age of sixteen. Fuck, sixteen. How's that for shit luck. I'm not old enough to drink, barely old enough to drive, and I'm not even legally recognized as an adult. Nobody should have to die before they're at least able to walk into a bar and order a pitcher of beer for him and his friends.
Though, I guess that'd be different, depending on what country and/or state you live in...Canada, the legal drinking age is 19, except in Quebec, where it's 18. Here in the States, it's 21, but in some places, it's lower. So that means that nobody should die until they're ABOUT nineteen, and in most places, twenty-one. Fuck, how's THAT for logic?
But, of course, once again, Adam had to remind himself that people WOULD die before they turned that age, and people already had. Of his class at Barry Coleson High School, every single person who'd been on the plane for the end-of-year field trip had died, save for him, and Jack O'Connor. Two, out of an entire plane-load. That included all of the teachers who'd come along on the trip, and that one kid that they'd executed on the plane. The kid with the hat.
God, I'd known him, hadn't I? I think I had...fuck, what was it? I think it was Comm. Tech with him. Shit, that's right. Kiel Zigelstien. That was his name, right. Danya shot him because of the fact that he was a punk, and no other reason, and Kiel wasn't even that much of a punk. He wore his hat sideways, but that was it. Fucking hell. Kiel hadn't had a chance to survive, like everyone else had. It was bullshit, too. Kiel was a decent guy, maybe a little ADD at times, but you can't hold that against him...he always meant well, and he was always happy. And Danya shot him down for wearing a hat.
Adam sighed, and continued on down the path, still seeing no sign of Cody Jenson.
Maybe Kiel was the lucky one. He died quickly, and as painlessly as a shot to the head can be. He never had to go through this emotional hell. So...maybe he was the lucky one. Ah, fuck, who am I kidding? All of us have been damned from the beginning. Even if we're the last person standing on this island, we're fucked. Mentally, and maybe even physically, depending on how badly you get torn up. Even if you don't die, you're still at least a little dead inside.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
But hey, I'm physically alive, and while I wouldn't go as far as saying that I'm okay, I'm doing a hell of a lot better than anyone else on this island. Everyone's been torn up a little, but I'm still breathing, so that's got to count for something...
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
As he walked, he looked at the river flowing calmly in the other direction. He'd all but lost his sense of direction (what little he'd had to begin with) and he was basically just following the river, hoping that it hadn't broken off at some point without him noticing. If that were the case, he could walk into a danger zone without even realizing it. Of course, the terrorists had "kindly" set up markers that denoted the danger zones, glowing a dull red on the side of the marker that was not to be entered. They weren't easy to miss, but if one were preoccupied enough, or perhaps running for their life from a psychopathic OHL player, it was very possible. Sighing softly, Adam glanced up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was a deep orange. The light would soon be gone, and to fight in the dark would be perilous. Adam didn't want to have to deal with Cody in the dark. While he was insane, Cody was still a formidable adversary, still having the presence of mind to trick Adam into believing that he was 'Andrew Stewart', and then planning several sneak attacks on both him and Sidney during their encounters before. Cody had been training to be a professional athlete, and in essence, he was probably a lot more prepared than the overweight Adam Dodd had been. Cody had been able to hold him off more than once during their last encounter, and that was with internal injuries. Thankfully, those injuries gave him a serious weakness that Adam would have to exploit as much as he possibly could.
Maybe if I kick him in the stomach enough times, he'll cough out his internal organs and that'll be that? Just like in bad horror movies? Shame that this isn't one big fucking horror movie. I'd kill to have a director pop out of the bushes and scream 'cut!' and then have everyone get up off of the ground and go grab lunch.
Finally, Adam arrived back at the clearing where he'd just fled from. This time, though, he held the shotgun in front of him as he entered, prepared to shoot anything that moved. That, of course, was the only logical action that he could take. He was in a fight to the death, and there were only two people besides himself remaining alive. He'd have to shoot anyone that he saw, if only to save himself. It was no different than what he’d been doing for the past couple of days, anyways. While he’d been with his friends, he’d been almost a different person, not capable of hurting anyone intentionally, only in defense…it had never been a ‘shoot first, don’t bother asking questions’ kind of mindset that he’d been in, not until now. He’d been mindful to ensure that he followed his own moral code – which of course, had been skewed during the course of the game. However, at this point, it was almost a moot point. If he didn’t kill them, he would die himself.
I hate this fucking game.
Much to his disdain, there was absolutely nobody in the clearing at this point in time. The telltale lumps from the graves that had been dug sat pointedly at the edge of the area, and (somewhat surprisingly) it seemed as though Sidney Crosby hadn't actually died when he hit the ground. His body was now a few feet away from where it'd been before, a trail of blood following him to the point where he'd finally collapsed. Taking a step over towards Sidney's body, Adam couldn't help but wonder if the boy was even still alive or not. As he neared the body, he grimaced at the ugly wounds in Sidney's chest, three gunshot wounds marking the Pittsburgh Penguins logo in his jersey. As Adam leaned over, his hand extended to take Sidney's pulse, he heard a cracking noise come from behind him, and then a brutal laugh.
"Fuck."
Straightening up, Adam sighed to himself, and slowly turned around, being careful not to make any sudden movements. As the other part of the valley came into view, he was greeted with a sight that he'd rather not have seen - the bloody grin of Cody Jenson, pistol raised in the air, pointed right at Adam's head. Cody stood about ten feet away from him - long enough that Adam might have a stone's throw of a chance to escape a bullet wound to the brain, but short enough that a second shot would likely find its mark. Cody grinned at Adam, an almost gleeful expression on his face as he pointed the pistol at Adam, rendering him in an unenviable position. Adam kept his eyes on the pistol as Cody cackled again.
"I've really got to hand it to you, Dodd. I never figured that - after all this time on the island, you'd actually manage to do something for me, after all that I've done for you!"
"Don't read too much into it, really."
Cody grinned a sadistic grin. "Oh, believe me, I won't. It took everything that I had to restrain myself from killing you when you compared me to Aki Berg, of all people. But you really redeemed yourself, Adam. You know how?"
"No, I can't even begin to imagine."
"You made sure that Sidney Crosby died. You ensured that he died. I was going to save him for last, but you know as well as I do, Adam, that I'm probably not going to last much longer. I hadn't thought about it - what if I died before Sidney, himself? Then he'd go on living, and I would have failed. But you...YOU made it all possible."
Adam's eyes narrowed as he moved his glance from the gun to Cody's face. He shook his head slowly, and an incredulous look passed upon his face. "Me? I made it possible? Cody...you fucking shot at me. I don't have any mind control powers, nor do I have a Crosby-magnet in my chest. You shot at me, and for whatever reason, he took a bullet for me. I didn't make shit, possible, Cody. You shot at me, you shot him, and that's that."
"No, Adam, you're as responsible as I am. You've played the game as hard as I have, and even though we're both playing for different goals, it's brought us both here. Sidney Crosby's death was a masterful collaboration between the two biggest players that this game has ever seen..."
Adam dropped his stoic visage and instead looked at Cody like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. Shaking his head, he surprised Cody by taking a step forward, momentarily forgetting about the pistol that the other boy held aimed at him.
"No. No fucking way. Collaboration? Fuck that shit, Cody. This whole time that we've been on the island, I've been doing two things - protecting myself, and protecting my friends. I managed to do one of them a hell of a lot better than I did the other. People attacked us, I'd fight back. You know, the ol' urge for self-preservation? We were doing all right, until a certain small-cocked rapist came along and eradicated my group of friends. You know who that is? I won't give you a hint, but I'll say this - you know him well. Since then, I've been wandering around, looking for you - looking to do one very simple thing: commit cold-blooded murder for the first time during this game. I'm not proud of myself, but you RAPED my goddamn friend! You raped her, goddamnit. Do you even have any idea what that does to a person?"
"My guess, is that it turns them into a submissive little fool. Just like you've become. Oh, that's right, YOU were raped, weren't you?"
"Raped? Yeah, I was. It humiliated me, it made me feel like I was a worthless piece of garbage. Y'know, I almost died, Cody. There was a point that I wished I had. But once I got out and thought about it, I was glad that I hadn't. You know why?"
Cody smirked at Adam. "Enlighten me."
"I realized that I'd been given a second chance, to make things right. Not for me. But for Madelaine Shirohara. You know who that is, right? Do you?" Cody shook his head, though he knew the answer already. "That was the girl whose throat you ripped out with your teeth. That was the girl who caused you to lose your rights as a human being. That was the girl who I promised that I'd protect. That was the girl that's going to, the end of it all, cause your death."
All throughout his speech, Adam was taking small steps towards Cody, causing the boy to back up a little bit each step. Cody figured that as long as he had the gun pointed at Adam, he would have control of the situation, for he had the gun. Adam knew that in about two steps, this likely wouldn't be the case. Cody was slowly backing towards the graves that had been dug for Adam's late friends.
"As big a figure as you are, Adam Dodd, you aren't the one with the gun. All I have to do is pull this trigger, and you're dead. If you don't have any other 'special powers', you certainly won't be able to outrun bullets. You are worthless, Dodd. As worthless as Crosby, but even moreso, because you don't have any discernable talents. You aren't a hockey god like me. You are nothing. A nobody. You always have been, since your birth, and you will be, until your death."
Suddenly stopping, Adam just smiled back at Cody, and shrugged.
"That's where you're wrong, Cody Jenson. I do have talents. I'm loyal to my friends, and I follow through on my fucking promises. So now, you have to die, and go to the hell to which you belong!"
The life I think about
Is so much better than this
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess
I'm sick of wondering
Is it life or death
I need to figure out who's behind me
As Adam essentially shouted the last bit at Cody, he lunged forward, causing Cody to take a giant, unbalanced step back. Eyes widening, he tripped back over the grave of Madelaine Shirohara, and his hand released the pistol as he toppled backwards over the mound of raised soil. Seeing his opportunity, Adam dropped his pack on the ground and tackled Cody as he tried to pick himself up. The two hit the ground hard, rolling overtop of the grave next to Madelaine's (that belong to Hawley Faust) and onto the ground. Disengaging himself from Cody, Adam wound up and leveled a big punch at the boy's face, striking him and crushing his nose even moreso than it already had been. Seeing Cody recoil, Adam wound up and punched him again. As Cody's head bounced back against the ground, the boy winced, but came up and spat blood into Adam's face, causing him to recoil, his eyes burning with the crimson liquid. Dragging himself to his feet, Cody leaped for the gun that was off to the side of the graves. At about the same time, Adam rubbed the blood out of his eyes and saw Cody's intention. Seeing the urgency of the situation, he dove into the bushes beside the river, concealing himself. Seeing Adam do this, Cody raised the pistol and opened fire into the brush, wildly shooting left and right.
Oh, FUCK!
Hearing the bullets whizzing past his prone form, Adam stayed in a missionary-position in the dirt. As a bullet skimmed his left buttock, Adam grunted, more with anger than pain. Bringing the shotgun around on its sling to the front of his body, he raised it and began to shoot into the clearing, unaware of even where Cody was. As he did this, he tried to crawl along to the river. He'd stupidly dropped his pack, where Cody would have easy access to it. Granted, he still had the two pistols in his pockets, the shotgun, the sword strapped around his waist, and the knife that he'd concealed on his ankle, but all of his extra ammunition was in that bag, along with the Uzi that he'd gotten from Peri Barclay.
This is exactly what I was hoping that it wouldn't become - a shootout, and me without my fucking ammo. If he thinks to look in that bag, I'm a fucking dead man. I could very well be a fucking dead man anyways!
As he returned fire with his shotgun, Adam's mind returned to a time that he had been so close to avoiding this entire situation. At the time, the alarms in his head had gone off, but he'd tried to keep from making harsh judgements. Truth was, he probably should have just killed the kid and kept on moving.
But those are the actions of a paranoid delusional sociopath, and I'm not one of those. I'm just a scared kid trying to get out of this shit with his life, and I'm not going to go around just murdering anyone I see. Well, at least, not at that point...what had it been that he'd said? Almost like he was playing with me...?
"Don't you see Adam? This game is not going to end on its own."
Cody was seized by a fit of coughing, and after wiping the fresh blood from his mouth, he continued.
"We have to end it. That's why we are here. Either we die, or we kill. That's the decision. Now unless you have some vigilante plan to deactivate your collar, run off and kill Danya when you don't even know where he is, much less be able to find a way off this island without one of their boats or another student killing you, be my guest. Be my fucking guest."
"I have to go find a girl, and end her life. The reason I have to do this is that she betrayed me. I also have to find a certain other person, and end his life too. These are both things that are very important for me to do before I die."
Cody grinned, which came off rather spooky due to his missing teeth and blood-filled mouth.
"...and then, I have to find and kill one more person. Perhaps the most important person on this island."
Cody chuckled. "Let's just say he has just as good of a reason to want to kill me."
Adam shook his head as he felt the bullets flying past him in all directions. Evidently, Cody had his own supply of spare ammunition, and seemed to be emptying it into the forest. Leaving the shotgun in the bush, he removed the Ballestair-Molina pistol that he'd begun the game with, and began to fire it back towards the clearing. The old pistol boomed as it fired, and Adam continued his crawl towards the river. He might be able to catch Cody by surprise, though to get into the river, he'd have to stop firing his gun, so that Cody would think that he was either dead or wounded. Evidently, though, Cody hadn't figured out that Adam was staying low to the ground, or else he might have already been shot, and not allowed to get this far. Though, there was one thing that he did remember about Cody.
He's a gamer. Cody Jenson is a gamer, he's been playing with me since the first moment that he saw me, collapsed in the woods. Ever since he did that, he's been trying to fuck with me, trick me, and whatnot. He befriended me under a false identity, and fucked around with my mind a little bit, with my emotions. Even here, when we've been fighting for our lives, he's been toying with me, laughing at me, trying to fuck with my head. Even if he knows I'm by the ground, he doesn't want to kill me with a stray bullet. He'd be gleeful to wound me and then strangle me with his bare fucking hands. Me? I just want him dead, by my hand. So maybe...I can use that to my advantage...
Glancing down at his waist, he unclipped the sabre that he'd been carrying around his waist. Unsheathing it, he dropped the sheath on the ground, and, aiming closely, threw the sword in an arc, hoping to land it in the valley somewhere at least close to Cody Jenson. Waiting for any screams of pain or at least any reaction at all, Adam couldn't help it when a grim smile made its way to his face as Cody reacted to his unorthodox move.
"Adam?! Did you just throw a sword at me? I admire your tenacity, but you can't beat me. I'm going to kill you, and then, I will finally be the best. There is no way around it, Adam!"
Fuck you, and go to hell, you fucking bastard.
Finally reaching the flowing water of the river, Adam crawled past the end of the bushes, discarded the old antique pistol, and removed the third weapon that he had in his other pocket; Andrew Lipson's Mauser M2. As he did this, he essentially jumped into the mud that the river-bank created. At this point in the river, the flow wasn't as harsh as it had been at the point that Adam had tried to jump across earlier, but it still required at least a small effort on his behalf. The shooting continued at the bushes behind him, but since Adam hadn't started shooting his pistol again, Cody was still focused on the bushes, not realizing that Adam was now wading through the water, which shocked him awake, as it's temperature was relatively cool. Wading against the current, Adam slowly made his way down the river, listening to the gunshots that Cody continued to shoot into the woods. Finally, the shooting stopped, and Adam quickened his pace through the river. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Cody as he could, while still managing to get to his pack so that he could get his spare ammunition and Uzi. Hearing Cody's footsteps traipsing off into the bush, Adam seized his opportunity. As soon as he heard Cody push through the tree-line, he himself dove out of the water and into the valley, essentially switching sides with Cody. This, of course, disabled his cover, but gave him access to his pack, which was lying on the ground on the other side of the valley. Glancing at the sword that he'd tossed at Cody, which had oddly enough, ended up sticking right out of the ground on the other side of the valley, Adam made a run for his pack.
We are
We are
We are
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
Having only the one chance at the pack, Adam sped towards the small bag that held all of his ammunition and the rest of his weapons in it. He bore down and reached out for it, but had to jump out of the way as he heard gunshots coming out of the bushes. This time, Cody Jenson himself stepped out of the area where he'd just walked into, an angry look on his face, likely about having to move about to try and kill his prey.
Prey? Fuck that shit. I'm nobody's prey! In fact, Cody Jenson is MY fucking prey! What the fuck am I doing? I'm running from him like he's been the one chasing me for this entire time! But he hasn't! He's tried to fuck with my head on every opportunity, and it looks like he's done just that! Fuck it, you're the one who's vowed to kill HIM, not the other way around!
As he realized that, the figuretive 'light' went on over Adam's head. The lightbulb was on, and Adam realized what he was doing wrong. The entire fight had been spent on the defensive, while Cody Jenson attacked him relentlessly. Instead, Adam would need to take to the offense, and put CODY on the defensive, and see how he reacted to it. Odds were that Cody, a person who was quite good at attacking people, likely had at least a slight weakness when it came to defending against attack, and Adam intended to expose this.
I just hope that I'm right - he's been pretty fucking solid at defending against me so far...I guess I'll just have to wait for some moment where his attention is somewhere else, and then do something that he just isn't going to expect. Who knows whatever the fuck THAT'll be? But in the time being, I'll just shoot at him!
Raising his pistol, Adam knew that exposing a potential weakness of Cody's would be difficult. Cody was a well-rounded fighter, and while the glaring weakness would say that his internal injuries could be used as something, Adam didn't see what. Cody had done as good a job as anyone he'd ever seen getting over those, and while his time on the island might have been numbered as a result, he didn't seem to care, and likely it wouldn't have mattered one way or another. Scrambling up, Adam pulled the trigger of the pistol and squeezed shots off towards where Cody was standing, dropping and rolling as his opponent shot bullets towards him as well. Neither boy seemed to be doing that great of a job hitting the other, as bullets flew everywhere, partially due to their awful aim, partially due to the effort that each boy was doing to avoid getting shot. It was almost like a macabre dance around the pack on the ground, though Cody hadn't looked at it yet, and was instead glaring at Adam Dodd, grinning like a madman and managing to look psychotic at the same time.
Finally the bullets stopped as both boys turned to face one another, standing about twelve feet apart, guns held at the other. Cody continued his grin, while Adam had a look of pure exhaustion on his face. Without any hesitation, Adam pulled the trigger on his gun, only to have the blood run from his face as he heard a loud 'CLICK', signifying that the gun was empty, and Adam had no more ammunition. With that grin still pasted on to his bloody face, Cody looked at Adam, and pulled the trigger, a loud 'CLICK' coming from his pistol as well. The lump in Adam's throat which had jumped to the top of his head when Cody had pulled the trigger settled back down, but now the two stood in a standoff, pointing two completely empty pistols at the other, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Figuring the idea to be a good one, Adam tossed his pistol at Cody, catching him off guard, and running towards him in a high tackle. Cody, surprised by the attack, recovered enough to see this coming, and bent over and essentially 'hip-checked' Adam, a move wholly reminiscent of Sidney Crosby's attack on Elijah Rice back in the Woods. Adam didn't expect such a move, though he should have, and as such, he was sent flying through the air, overtop of Cody and falling hard onto the ground, rolling past the prone body of Sidney Crosby, and coming to a rest beside the sword that was sticking out of the ground. The wind knocked out of him, Adam winced on the ground, grimacing at the pain that his flight had given him. His entire body was aching now, and the morphine, which had been dulling his pain, seemed to have stopped.
The life I think about
Is so much better than this
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess
I'm sick of wondering
Is it life or death?
As the wind came back into his body, Adam rolled over and groaned. His landing seemed to have dislocated his shoulder, which was hanging limply at his side, causing agonizing pain to flow throughout his body. Clenching his teeth and trying to see through the tears caused by the white-hot pain, Adam was able to see Cody laughing at him, and then taking a spare cartidge out of his pocket, loading it into his pistol, which he checked, and then walked over and stood overtop of Adam.
"So this is how it's going to end, Dodd. It's almost ironic, isn't it? Your life, as you know it, felled by a simple thing that you really should have seen coming. I mean, come on, Adam! You claimed that you're such a hockey fan, how could you have missed that I was going to hip-check you, of all things? You were supposed to be number one, Dodd. The best. You were the one standing in my way to becoming the best, not Crosby, not anyone else. And here it is, that you've become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's your own damn fault, Adam Dodd. You missed what should have been really obvious to a HOCKEY fan, of all things, and you ended up with what? A bruised ego, a dislocated shoulder, and a bullet in the brain for your troubles. I'm really going to enjoy killing you, Adam Dodd. I'll complete the hat trick. First I killed your bitch, then I killed her friend, and now, I'm finishing it off with you..."
Cody's pistol was pointed squarely at Adam, who could hardly think through the pain that he was feeling thanks to his newly-dislocated shoulder. Still, though, he heard what the boy was saying, and swore to himself that he wouldn't go down without a fight. As such, he tried to rise to his feet, and only got a part of the way up before Cody, who intended to inflict as much pain upon him as he could before he shot him, booted him hard in the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground again. Much to Adam's surprise, though, the pain in his shoulder ceased as soon as Cody's boot kicked him. That momentary shock was again dulled by the impact of his back upon the ground, but he knew exactly what Cody had just done - he'd re-set his shoulder back into place. It didn't seem like he'd be able to do much about it before he was shot, but if he could somehow distract Cody...
What the hell would distract Cody enough to get him to look away, so I could pull this sword out of the ground and ram him with it?
Grimacing again as Cody looked at him, Adam opted to continue with the facade of the shoulder injury, as Cody likely wasn't aware as to what he had done. Scrunching his face into a pain-filled mask, Adam tried the only thing that possibly came to mind; the only thing that might possibly save him from the imposing visage of the most immoral, psychotic person still left alive on the island.
"C-Crosby! He's right...he's right behind you! He's...alive!"
Adam managed to spit that phrase out, before realizing how stupid that it sounded. Crosby was indeed behind Cody, yet he was lying dead on the ground, a victim of several shots to the chest. Cody knew this, as he had been the one who'd killed Sidney, who'd shot him several times, and had enjoyed it immensely. To his credit, Cody didn't buy Adam's tactics at all. Instead, he raised one eyebrow, and really sarcastically glanced down at Sidney's corpse on the ground below him. Snorting, he put his hands to his face in mock fear.
"Oh no! Not Sidney Crosby! What is he going to do, kill me with his smell? Did you really think that I'm that stupid, Dodd? Did you really think that you'd be able to fool me with that? You're pathetic. More pathetic then that dead bitch of yours, and more pathetic then that other one that showed me so much of a good time. Oh, and Adam...before I kill you, I should really tell you - she begged for me to give it to her before I tore her throat out."
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
We are the ones
We get knocked down
We get back up and stand above the crowd
We are one
As Cody raised his pistol to aim at Adam Dodd, Adam's shoulders sagged. He had nothing else up his sleeve, no weapons hidden in his pockets, and the closest thing that he had to a concealed weapon was the knife that he had strapped around his ankle. He was done for.
And this is how it's going to go. Cody Jenson will shoot me to death, and I'll have let down everyone else. Man, I really fucking suck at keeping promises...
Looking right into Adam's eyes, Cody smiled as his finger tightened around the trigger. What happened next shocked every single person who would ever watch the ending moments of Survival of the Fittest, that people would see and undoubtedly wonder how such a thing was even possible.
A hand reached out from behind Cody Jenson and grabbed his leg, causing the boy to turn around in absolute horror, staring at what looked like a very dead Sidney Crosby grabbing on to his leg, a venomous look in his eyes. Cody was so frightened at that moment in time that he literally wet himself. Crosby stared up at him and said one thing, that chilled even the veins of Adam Dodd, who watched the exchange with a sudden shock.
"You can't kill me, you stupid fuck! I'm Sidney Crosby, and you're a fucking nobody!"
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd (Crowd)
(We stand) We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd (We Stand)
We stand above the crowd
Cody, so horrified at the fact that Sidney Crosby had seemingly come back from the dead, turned around completely and pointed his pistol at the zombie that latched itself upon to his leg. In actuality, Sidney Crosby was not actually dead, nor had he died when he'd collapsed before. Instead of dying like Cody had intended him to, Sidney had bled internally for a few moments, waking up sporadically, trying to drag himself around the valley - thus leaving the bloody trails in his wake. He'd finally collapsed in his present position, simply waiting for death to overtake him, when Cody and Adam had began to brawl around the area. During their standoff, Sidney had felt the clutches of death begin to come for him, and when he'd glanced up to see the outcome of the battle, and seen that Cody was the one who'd held the upper hand, he pushed all of the strength that remained in his body to trying to bring Cody Jenson down.
Cody, still entranced with the feeling of horror, aimed his pistol with two hands, and shot Sidney square between the eyes, blowing half of his head clean off.
Kicking Sidney's now-dead body off of him, he shook uncontrollably, and shot at Sidney's corpse again and again, trying to kill he who cannot be killed. At least, according to Cody. After reducing what was left of Sidney's head into jelly with his pistol, Cody screamed at the boy's corpse.
"THERE! THERE YOU GO, YOU BASTARD! YOU WON'T TAKE ANYTHING ELSE FROM ME EVER AGAIN! THE GREAT SIDNEY CROSBY NOW LIES IN PIECES!"
Still shaking, Cody turned around just in time for the business-end of a sword to pierce through his chest and run him back and into a nearby tree.
(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd
(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowd
(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd
(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowd
As Adam had watched in horror as Sidney Crosby had seemingly managed to come back from beyond the grave and interject himself upon the proceedings, he quickly realized that NOW was in fact the only chance that he would have to turn the tides in his favour. Cody Jenson was stronger than he was, he was more agile, faster, and at this point, had a better weapon than Adam had. Adam knew that if he did nothing, he was all but dead. So when Cody turned around and began to scream at Cody, he reached around and with all of his effort, ripped the sabre out of the ground. As he climbed to his feet, he heard the gunshots that Cody was firing at Sidney's body, and he run at Cody, holding the sword like he'd seen so many movie characters do. Cody turned just in time for the sword to plunge through his chest, sending the gun he held in his hands falling to the ground, and sending Cody himself back into a tree, which Adam ran towards with all of his might, finally falling backwards when the sword impaled itself (and Cody) on the thick tree that they'd fallen back into. The wind knocked out of him again, Adam tried to shrug it off, and climbed to his feet to survey the damage. What he saw seemed to lift a gigantic weight off of his shoulders.
Cody Jenson was pinned to the tree, sword sticking right through his chest, blood running down his body and pooling at his feet. Cody, who was still alive, looked at the sword sticking out of his chest, and seemed to have a puzzled look on his face. Moving from the sword to Adam, who was standing in front of him, Cody tilted his head, and began to try and force himself forward, off of the sword so that he could get at Adam! Adam took a step back, surprised at the tactic, and looked at Cody for what he hoped was the final time. His words seemed hollow, and he hoped that he'd be able to speak them for the final time.
"You can't fucking admit when you're beaten, can you? Y'know what, Cody? In another lifetime, we might've been friends. You liked hockey, so did I. You seemed like a decent enough guy in the woods when I met up with you. Really, I mean that. I wouldn't have given you a second glance in this game, Cody. I was too busy trying to survive, with my friends. Friends who YOU took away. And for what purpose? To establish yourself as a better...killer than Sidney Crosby? Was that it? Or did you just have enough of an inferiority complex that you had to try and rape your way to the top? You didn't even know who it was that you killed, Cody. Madelaine Shirohara. Amanda Jones. You want to know why it is that you're going to die, Cody? You REALLY want to know? Those four words, those two names. Madelaine Shirohara, and Amanda Jones. They'll live on forever, and a scumbag like you? You'll be forgotten, Cody Jenson. You'll be forever known to history as a pathetic loser who wasn't worth remembering, and I'm glad that I could be the one to make that happen for you."
Suddenly retaining a burst of strength, Cody pushed himself forward on the sword, making a last grab at Adam, to try and choke him to death. Instead, Adam kicked him back to the tree, where the blood began to flow even more. It seemed as though the sword had now cut through an artery, and the next thing that Cody Jenson experienced would be death. Looking at Adam with a puzzled glance, he half smirked, and said what would prove to be his final words.
"You...you compared me to Aki Berg..."
Smiling now, Adam laughed out loud as he watched Cody Jenson die.
"You're damned right that I did. Aki Berg is twenty times the player that you'll ever be, Cody, and five minutes from now, you'll be dead. I hope you enjoy your eternity of damnation in the lowest cesspool of hell, because that is where you fucking belong. Words cannot express how fucking much I hate you, Cody, and as you die, the last thing that I want you to feel is me carving your legacy into your flesh."
Reaching down, Adam grabbed the knife from within his ankle-sheath. Extracting it, he grabbed ahold of Cody's shirt and cut it wide open, exposing a well-toned body, black and purple from the various wounds that he'd recieved, with a sword sticking out of the upper half of his chest. Taking the knife, Adam then proceeded to carve one word into Cody's chest, taking great pleasure in the boy's grunts, and enjoying the agony that he was causing the boy.
Cody Jenson died as Adam was carving the 'P'.
As he finished carving the one single word into Cody's Chest, Adam sighed, and looked back at the gory visage of what had used to be Cody Jenson, the word 'RAPIST' carved into his chest. Replacing the knife back into his ankle-sheath, Adam took one look at the corpse of Cody Jenson, and for the first time in over ten days, smiled a smile of pure joy. He'd done it. Adam Dodd had killed Cody Jenson.
Striding back over to his pack that was still sitting on the ground, he finally grabbed it again, and opened it up. Rummaging through it, he grabbed out his Uzi, as well as the Colt .45 pistol that he'd found somewhere along the line. He also reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, downing the entire thing in mere seconds, which gave a slight solace to his pounding body. It was almost like his entire body was hurting in unison, that it was one big wound. Dropping the empty bottle on the ground, he checked the Uzi to see that it was loaded. It was. He then took a look around and surveyed the area. On the ground was the body of what used to be Sidney Crosby, multiple gunshot wounds in the chest and his entire head essentially shot up. Stapled to a tree was Cody Jenson, a sword through his chest, and 'RAPIST' carved into his chest. Alive, slinging his pack over his shoulder, was Adam Dodd.
"Well, that's three of us accounted for...now where the fuck is Jack O'Connor?"
As he readied his weapons, Adam looked up at the darkening sky, and sighed deeply. Here he was, this was it. The final battle.
From one-twenty-three to two, and here we go...
B87 - CROSBY, SIDNEY - DECEASED... 3 STUDENTS REMAINING
B50 - JENSON, CODY - DECEASED... 2 STUDENTS REMAINING
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
We stand above the crowd
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
It's so damn quiet out here.
This rather trivial fact was what Jack O' Conner noticed as he strode his way quickly and steadily along a bend in the path. Though truly, perhaps it was necessarily trivial, for the quiet atmosphere could mean that he was completely alone, which in turn meant that he likely wouldn't receive any direct trouble from the rest of the final four. Though then again, it could possibly also mean that whoever could be around was lying well out of notice, which in turn meant that if there was an ambush lying in wake for any the unwary wanderer, Jack was thoroughly fucked.
Fact remained though, that the island had seemed to have fallen into relative silence. Other than the sound of his dirt-stained heels striking the rough path as he hiked on, other than the ambience of open air, other than the sound of flies humming in the air as he passed the occasional corpse, all was quiet.
During this ten-day vacation trip turned nightmare on a nameless island far from home, far from all that was once familiar, Jack O'Conner had grown sickeningly accustomed to frequently catching the sound of a gunshot resonating from some distant part of the island, perhaps hearing human shouts or screams on occasion. And now that it seemed that the island was almost completely void of any human inactivity, and had fallen into nearly complete silence, Jack O'Conner found the silence more unsettling than peaceful.
Perhaps it was also due to the fact that he knew better than to let his guard down, particularly at such a critical point in this game. The point known as the Endgame. Right now, elsewhere on the island whether nearby or far off, three others like him were no doubt preparing for what was to be the final chapter in the game of survival known as SOTF. Three other ordinary students were all heading to the River, the setting for what was to be the final and most decisive battle.
He'd lived through ten days of death and killing. He'd listened helplessly as Danya announced the death of his teammates one after another, and had even witnessed the death of teammate Jason Andrews at the hands of Adam Dodd. He'd been there when his group was eradicated, all killed within a span of four minutes by practically one person alone. That person, the female terrorist, he had killed himself out of self-defense, something that lingered at the back of his mind like a dark shadow. Using his wits and pure will to fight and survive, Jack O'Conner had gone this far while one hundred and sixteen students fell behind.
But it wasn't over yet.
Against staggering odds, three others like him had survived this long to be granted access into the next and final stage. Three others like him had been through much like Jack had done, had committed sins of their own, and still lived while everyone else lost their lives. They were murderers all, no doubt left by the announcements. They were a disgrace to mankind, no longer deserving of their rights as humans. They were a stain upon the world like all murderers were. And because of that, Jack knew that there was no way he could ever accept it if any of them were allowed to return home to normality.
Himself included.
Though in all honesty, his one kill seemed to pale in comparison when he considered the kill counts of those who were still wandering the island. Adam Dodd for one, whom he had aurally witnessed kill Jason Andrews in cold-blood, even as the former baseball team member begged for his life. Though fact remained that Jason had been intent on killing the group when he'd arrived, that didn't change the fact that the once cheerful and easygoing redhead was now a cold killer of not only Jack's own teammate, but at least nine or ten others as well. By now it was quite obvious that Adam Dodd was contending for the win, which meant he could possibly be given the chance to return home. No doubt he would stop at nothing to go that far.
We should've shot him there and then, Jack thought bitterly, knowing that it was too late for such thoughts. I don't care about the reasons, he's a killer. But I guess it's up to me to do what should've been done on Day 7.
That was the day Jason Andrews had been shot to death by Adam Dodd. And though Jack had wanted nothing more to do with Adam, despite his reasons, at this moment he could not help but recall something Adam had mentioned that moment before he left.
...along with my love for life, my love for my friends is just as big. So...that's kind of how I justify going after Cody. He wronged my friends, and now I'm going to kill him.
Though really...how a killer like Adam could possibly claim any real regard to friendship after all he had done, Jack had no idea. But that was beside the point. Cody Jenson was thus far the only one of the final four that Jack had not met before, or during the game of SOTF. Therefore, there wasn't anything personal that Jack held against Cody Jenson... though Jack had noted with interest the level of notoriety he had gained over the past ten days, not only as a recurrent killer, but a rapist as well.
Though his kill-count, though noteworthy wasn't nearly as high as Adam Dodd's, Jack saw all the more reason why Cody shouldn't be allowed to leave the island alive. He'd raped someone, a crime against another human that, like murder, didn't deserve to be let off so easily. And Jack was willing to accept the responsibility to ensure that.
If Adam Dodd doesn't find him first, anyways... Jack thought to himself, knowing that such an encounter between these two particular students would only end in death for either or both parties.
And then there was Sidney Crosby, whom Jack regarded in his mind with gritted teeth. Celebrity or no, the hockey player had been nothing but a thorn in his side and another potential threat to worry about for all the time they'd been on the same team, forming a shaky truce of sorts. Though now Jack O'Conner felt nothing but regret having not killed the fucker or at least turning him away from the group for being a killer himself.
And for trying to run away, not only is he a killer...but a coward as well, Jack thought with a grim smile. At least there would be some score he'd like to settle with someone at Endgame, whether he made it out alive or not.
Which in all, left himself, the final of the four. As much as he was judgmental, Jack hated seeing himself as a hypocrite, and it was because of this that Jack was forced to reflect on not only the sins of others, but his own as well. His only comfort in the fact that Angelina Kaige was a terrorist, a representative of the organization that weaved this nightmare to begin with, which was reason enough for her to be a target of wrath for the students. Furthermore, he'd killed the allies he'd gained over the course of SOTF, as well as the teammates he regarded as brothers. He had every right to anger and grudge against the terrorist, for all she had done and what she represented.
That, however, didn't change the fact that Jack was now a murderer. He had committed the ultimate crime, the destruction of another human's life. It was an inerasable sin that would stain his slate for as long as he would live, however long that would be. It was something he knew he'd never be able to live with if he even survived this game, no matter how hard he tried to blend back into normality. How would he face the rest of his family at home? His friends? His teammates, Brian and Mark? The rest of the world?
And that was why Jack O'Conner resolved from the aftermath of his crime to do one thing. The right thing. The only thing. He would make sure that none of these murderers returned home, himself included. He would personally make sure that every last of these vermin were exterminated, and was prepared to do so by his own hand, whatever the cost. Whether he would be the one to kill them or not, all that mattered was their deaths. And then he would pave the way for justice by taking his own life. Even if it meant he'd burn in hell for all of eternity, perhaps he could at least forgive himself by doing the rest of humanity a favour by ending the life of another murderer.
In any case, it's the only thing left to do now, Jack thought to himself in grim determination, And with the array of weapons I have with me, I definitely have a winning chance. His lips tightened into something of a bitter smile as he gripped the strap of the Ingram slung over his back.
He was weary and jaded by the gruesome events of the past ten days, but his motivation to live long enough to fulfill this goal kept him going with some amount of vigour. It was a twisted sense of justice that he was trying to fulfill. Twisted, and almost borderlining on insanity in a way, yet it made so much sense to him. He could not possibly see this game ending any other way. Of course, his role in the play was to ensure that everything would go as he'd foreseen it.
Feeling satisfaction at the security of being well armed, he strode over the boundary that marked the separate areas, ears pricking slightly as he heard the collar at his neck beep once at his arrival before it fell silent again. This was it, he'd entered the last stage. By now, Jack had all but forsaken his anti-killing sentiments, as well as his original plan to escape. Though really, it seemed a bit of a shame, as it had seemed to go so well until the point where everything collapsed, and all hope of escape blew apart like the grenade that had taken the life of his comrades...
"That's in the past. Escape is no longer an option. At least that virus would at least give hell for the terrorists in a sense, though I'll be damned if they don't deserve worse..."
The silence that had befallen the island grew all the more ominous as Jack coursed near the treeline that bordered along the riverbank. All that he could here now was the rushing of water, as well as the flies that were now feasting on whatever discernible remains of Rais Sekth. Just as Jack leaned over to inspect the corpse of Rais with a degree of disgust and sick fascination, he suddenly jumped in surprise as the resonating thunder of a gunshot suddenly ripped through the air.
Jack froze, immediately gripping the Ingram that had been slung over his shoulder. Judging from the volume of the gunshots and the way they resonated through the open air, whoever had fired was no doubt in the same area, but was much too far away for Jack to see at this point. Nevertheless, Jack ducked low into the brush, leaning up against the shelter of a tree.
There, he waited.
The idea was to wait until the gunshots ceased, for it usually meant that the skirmish had ended, and likely someone had been killed in the action. It was then that Jack would be able to head straight for the location of the skirmish, and finish off whoever was left. Likely he would be wounded, or at least fatigued from the battle, which Jack could use as an advantage given his relatively uninjured state. Furthermore, it was just an effective defensive strategy to lie low while the enemy’s attention was elsewhere.
In any case, how ironic it would be to come this far and end up getting stopped short by a stray bullet. Here, I have plenty of time….
A second gunshot ripped through the air. Jack waited. He remained well hidden behind the tree, hearing and watching for any sign of one of the players approaching.
It wasn’t long until he heard footsteps of a single person running along the length of the river, as though in pursuit. Cautiously, Jack leaned his back against the tree, clutching the ingram’s handle with one hand and supporting the barrel with the other. Slowly, ever so slightly, he turned his head to direct it towards the area beyond the brush.
With his blue hockey jersey and coppery red hair, Adam Dodd was a form that was unmistakable and recognizable even at this distance. Jack instantly recognized him with widening eyes as the redhead barely managed to leap clear over a stump as he ran along the path, as though racing for dear life.
Which may not be too far off the mark, considering the circumstances.
Gritting his teeth slightly in a silent growl, Jack tightened his grip on the Ingram and watched as Adam came to a sudden halt, having reached the boundary marker, beyond which Jack knew to be a Danger Zone. At this, Jack could not help but click his tongue slightly in grim amusement.
Damn, would have been ridiculously convenient for him to just run into the Danger Zone, he thought to himself. What are you doing to do now, Dodd? What are you going to do now that you are being hunted, likely by the one you’d sought to hunt?
At this point, Jack contemplated the idea of just outright mowing Adam down with his Ingram and putting the boy out of his misery, though at this point, Jack was unsure just how much damage he would be able to do as this distance. This was what made him tentative, and so he continued to wait and observe Adam at a distance.
He stiffened as Adam began to look around, as though he were looking for something, or as though he had seen or heard something elsewhere. Perhaps he sensed Jack’s presence, who was not too far off from where Adam was standing aside the river, glancing at in on occasion.
Shit! What if he knows I’m here? Though, I have the advantage here. He doesn’t know exactly where I am. I have the element of surprise. All I have to do is watch and wait.
Still creeping low against the tree, Jack O’Conner continued to crouch behind the line of brush, watching and waiting. Sure enough, Adam continued to walk along the river bank as though looking around for something. The distance between Adam and where Jack remained hidden was rapidly shortening…it wouldn’t be long until Adam would be in perfect range.
That’s it…get closer so that I can gun you down, you killer! This one will be for Jason!
Jack knew that the moment was his when Adam stopped just in front of his hiding place, only a scarce few yards away. Noticing the back of his unwary opponent turning towards him, Jack readied himself for the kill, about to emerge from the brush with his ingram in hand ready to end Adam’s life before he would even knew what was happening.
He stopped short as Adam kicked off the riverbank, leaping clear into the air over the stretch of rushing water. Though it looked as though he were about to falter in midair, he manage to make the opposite bank, just barely, catching his feet against the side of the bank and falling forward.
Jack’s gun arm faltered, and fell completely. He could only watch silently, completely out of notice, as Adam slowly dragged himself to his feet and wandered back the direction he came, disappearing in to the brush…
It had caught Jack completely off guard, for he had not expected Adam, wounded and no doubt weakened as he was, to leap clear over the width of the river itself. Either way, it deprived Jack of his one opportunity to eliminate another player from the game, leaving him with utter disappointment. But Jack couldn’t beat himself up over it now. No matter what happened, he had to make sure justice was done.
As more gunshots shattered the tranquil ambience of the surrounding environment in the direction Adam had disappeared, Jack continued to wait. By this point, it was likely that the other three finalists had bumped into one another, and were battling amongst themselves in an all-out fight for survival. Jack wondered briefly if someone had fallen by now, and who. Though more importantly, Jack thought over the possible survivor of the skirmish. By now, he had a feeling that soon, all would end with him and just one other person fighting for the surviving position, the winner’s place. Though all in all, it was a gut feeling…but Jack could not help but wonder just who would he be up against.
Who would be my final opponent, I wonder? Out of Sidney, Cody, and Adam, I will end up having to face one. Who will be my second, and last kill?
Either way, it was at that point, that Jack knew that the end of his story was drawing near. Everything would go the way he had planned since the time he’d killed the female terrorist at the open field. The game would end by his terms. And most importantly, justice would be served.
The gunshots finally ceased. Jack saw the silence as a cue to enter stage, and play his part in this game. Tightening his grip on the ingram with renewed resolve, he emerged from his hiding place, looking about cautiously as he did so, striding straight towards the direction in which the gunshots had come from. He cleared his mind of the allies he’d lost, his dead teammates, the sin he had committed in the open field. The end was near, and all he had left to do was to see it through.
This rather trivial fact was what Jack O' Conner noticed as he strode his way quickly and steadily along a bend in the path. Though truly, perhaps it was necessarily trivial, for the quiet atmosphere could mean that he was completely alone, which in turn meant that he likely wouldn't receive any direct trouble from the rest of the final four. Though then again, it could possibly also mean that whoever could be around was lying well out of notice, which in turn meant that if there was an ambush lying in wake for any the unwary wanderer, Jack was thoroughly fucked.
Fact remained though, that the island had seemed to have fallen into relative silence. Other than the sound of his dirt-stained heels striking the rough path as he hiked on, other than the ambience of open air, other than the sound of flies humming in the air as he passed the occasional corpse, all was quiet.
During this ten-day vacation trip turned nightmare on a nameless island far from home, far from all that was once familiar, Jack O'Conner had grown sickeningly accustomed to frequently catching the sound of a gunshot resonating from some distant part of the island, perhaps hearing human shouts or screams on occasion. And now that it seemed that the island was almost completely void of any human inactivity, and had fallen into nearly complete silence, Jack O'Conner found the silence more unsettling than peaceful.
Perhaps it was also due to the fact that he knew better than to let his guard down, particularly at such a critical point in this game. The point known as the Endgame. Right now, elsewhere on the island whether nearby or far off, three others like him were no doubt preparing for what was to be the final chapter in the game of survival known as SOTF. Three other ordinary students were all heading to the River, the setting for what was to be the final and most decisive battle.
He'd lived through ten days of death and killing. He'd listened helplessly as Danya announced the death of his teammates one after another, and had even witnessed the death of teammate Jason Andrews at the hands of Adam Dodd. He'd been there when his group was eradicated, all killed within a span of four minutes by practically one person alone. That person, the female terrorist, he had killed himself out of self-defense, something that lingered at the back of his mind like a dark shadow. Using his wits and pure will to fight and survive, Jack O'Conner had gone this far while one hundred and sixteen students fell behind.
But it wasn't over yet.
Against staggering odds, three others like him had survived this long to be granted access into the next and final stage. Three others like him had been through much like Jack had done, had committed sins of their own, and still lived while everyone else lost their lives. They were murderers all, no doubt left by the announcements. They were a disgrace to mankind, no longer deserving of their rights as humans. They were a stain upon the world like all murderers were. And because of that, Jack knew that there was no way he could ever accept it if any of them were allowed to return home to normality.
Himself included.
Though in all honesty, his one kill seemed to pale in comparison when he considered the kill counts of those who were still wandering the island. Adam Dodd for one, whom he had aurally witnessed kill Jason Andrews in cold-blood, even as the former baseball team member begged for his life. Though fact remained that Jason had been intent on killing the group when he'd arrived, that didn't change the fact that the once cheerful and easygoing redhead was now a cold killer of not only Jack's own teammate, but at least nine or ten others as well. By now it was quite obvious that Adam Dodd was contending for the win, which meant he could possibly be given the chance to return home. No doubt he would stop at nothing to go that far.
We should've shot him there and then, Jack thought bitterly, knowing that it was too late for such thoughts. I don't care about the reasons, he's a killer. But I guess it's up to me to do what should've been done on Day 7.
That was the day Jason Andrews had been shot to death by Adam Dodd. And though Jack had wanted nothing more to do with Adam, despite his reasons, at this moment he could not help but recall something Adam had mentioned that moment before he left.
...along with my love for life, my love for my friends is just as big. So...that's kind of how I justify going after Cody. He wronged my friends, and now I'm going to kill him.
Though really...how a killer like Adam could possibly claim any real regard to friendship after all he had done, Jack had no idea. But that was beside the point. Cody Jenson was thus far the only one of the final four that Jack had not met before, or during the game of SOTF. Therefore, there wasn't anything personal that Jack held against Cody Jenson... though Jack had noted with interest the level of notoriety he had gained over the past ten days, not only as a recurrent killer, but a rapist as well.
Though his kill-count, though noteworthy wasn't nearly as high as Adam Dodd's, Jack saw all the more reason why Cody shouldn't be allowed to leave the island alive. He'd raped someone, a crime against another human that, like murder, didn't deserve to be let off so easily. And Jack was willing to accept the responsibility to ensure that.
If Adam Dodd doesn't find him first, anyways... Jack thought to himself, knowing that such an encounter between these two particular students would only end in death for either or both parties.
And then there was Sidney Crosby, whom Jack regarded in his mind with gritted teeth. Celebrity or no, the hockey player had been nothing but a thorn in his side and another potential threat to worry about for all the time they'd been on the same team, forming a shaky truce of sorts. Though now Jack O'Conner felt nothing but regret having not killed the fucker or at least turning him away from the group for being a killer himself.
And for trying to run away, not only is he a killer...but a coward as well, Jack thought with a grim smile. At least there would be some score he'd like to settle with someone at Endgame, whether he made it out alive or not.
Which in all, left himself, the final of the four. As much as he was judgmental, Jack hated seeing himself as a hypocrite, and it was because of this that Jack was forced to reflect on not only the sins of others, but his own as well. His only comfort in the fact that Angelina Kaige was a terrorist, a representative of the organization that weaved this nightmare to begin with, which was reason enough for her to be a target of wrath for the students. Furthermore, he'd killed the allies he'd gained over the course of SOTF, as well as the teammates he regarded as brothers. He had every right to anger and grudge against the terrorist, for all she had done and what she represented.
That, however, didn't change the fact that Jack was now a murderer. He had committed the ultimate crime, the destruction of another human's life. It was an inerasable sin that would stain his slate for as long as he would live, however long that would be. It was something he knew he'd never be able to live with if he even survived this game, no matter how hard he tried to blend back into normality. How would he face the rest of his family at home? His friends? His teammates, Brian and Mark? The rest of the world?
And that was why Jack O'Conner resolved from the aftermath of his crime to do one thing. The right thing. The only thing. He would make sure that none of these murderers returned home, himself included. He would personally make sure that every last of these vermin were exterminated, and was prepared to do so by his own hand, whatever the cost. Whether he would be the one to kill them or not, all that mattered was their deaths. And then he would pave the way for justice by taking his own life. Even if it meant he'd burn in hell for all of eternity, perhaps he could at least forgive himself by doing the rest of humanity a favour by ending the life of another murderer.
In any case, it's the only thing left to do now, Jack thought to himself in grim determination, And with the array of weapons I have with me, I definitely have a winning chance. His lips tightened into something of a bitter smile as he gripped the strap of the Ingram slung over his back.
He was weary and jaded by the gruesome events of the past ten days, but his motivation to live long enough to fulfill this goal kept him going with some amount of vigour. It was a twisted sense of justice that he was trying to fulfill. Twisted, and almost borderlining on insanity in a way, yet it made so much sense to him. He could not possibly see this game ending any other way. Of course, his role in the play was to ensure that everything would go as he'd foreseen it.
Feeling satisfaction at the security of being well armed, he strode over the boundary that marked the separate areas, ears pricking slightly as he heard the collar at his neck beep once at his arrival before it fell silent again. This was it, he'd entered the last stage. By now, Jack had all but forsaken his anti-killing sentiments, as well as his original plan to escape. Though really, it seemed a bit of a shame, as it had seemed to go so well until the point where everything collapsed, and all hope of escape blew apart like the grenade that had taken the life of his comrades...
"That's in the past. Escape is no longer an option. At least that virus would at least give hell for the terrorists in a sense, though I'll be damned if they don't deserve worse..."
The silence that had befallen the island grew all the more ominous as Jack coursed near the treeline that bordered along the riverbank. All that he could here now was the rushing of water, as well as the flies that were now feasting on whatever discernible remains of Rais Sekth. Just as Jack leaned over to inspect the corpse of Rais with a degree of disgust and sick fascination, he suddenly jumped in surprise as the resonating thunder of a gunshot suddenly ripped through the air.
Jack froze, immediately gripping the Ingram that had been slung over his shoulder. Judging from the volume of the gunshots and the way they resonated through the open air, whoever had fired was no doubt in the same area, but was much too far away for Jack to see at this point. Nevertheless, Jack ducked low into the brush, leaning up against the shelter of a tree.
There, he waited.
The idea was to wait until the gunshots ceased, for it usually meant that the skirmish had ended, and likely someone had been killed in the action. It was then that Jack would be able to head straight for the location of the skirmish, and finish off whoever was left. Likely he would be wounded, or at least fatigued from the battle, which Jack could use as an advantage given his relatively uninjured state. Furthermore, it was just an effective defensive strategy to lie low while the enemy’s attention was elsewhere.
In any case, how ironic it would be to come this far and end up getting stopped short by a stray bullet. Here, I have plenty of time….
A second gunshot ripped through the air. Jack waited. He remained well hidden behind the tree, hearing and watching for any sign of one of the players approaching.
It wasn’t long until he heard footsteps of a single person running along the length of the river, as though in pursuit. Cautiously, Jack leaned his back against the tree, clutching the ingram’s handle with one hand and supporting the barrel with the other. Slowly, ever so slightly, he turned his head to direct it towards the area beyond the brush.
With his blue hockey jersey and coppery red hair, Adam Dodd was a form that was unmistakable and recognizable even at this distance. Jack instantly recognized him with widening eyes as the redhead barely managed to leap clear over a stump as he ran along the path, as though racing for dear life.
Which may not be too far off the mark, considering the circumstances.
Gritting his teeth slightly in a silent growl, Jack tightened his grip on the Ingram and watched as Adam came to a sudden halt, having reached the boundary marker, beyond which Jack knew to be a Danger Zone. At this, Jack could not help but click his tongue slightly in grim amusement.
Damn, would have been ridiculously convenient for him to just run into the Danger Zone, he thought to himself. What are you doing to do now, Dodd? What are you going to do now that you are being hunted, likely by the one you’d sought to hunt?
At this point, Jack contemplated the idea of just outright mowing Adam down with his Ingram and putting the boy out of his misery, though at this point, Jack was unsure just how much damage he would be able to do as this distance. This was what made him tentative, and so he continued to wait and observe Adam at a distance.
He stiffened as Adam began to look around, as though he were looking for something, or as though he had seen or heard something elsewhere. Perhaps he sensed Jack’s presence, who was not too far off from where Adam was standing aside the river, glancing at in on occasion.
Shit! What if he knows I’m here? Though, I have the advantage here. He doesn’t know exactly where I am. I have the element of surprise. All I have to do is watch and wait.
Still creeping low against the tree, Jack O’Conner continued to crouch behind the line of brush, watching and waiting. Sure enough, Adam continued to walk along the river bank as though looking around for something. The distance between Adam and where Jack remained hidden was rapidly shortening…it wouldn’t be long until Adam would be in perfect range.
That’s it…get closer so that I can gun you down, you killer! This one will be for Jason!
Jack knew that the moment was his when Adam stopped just in front of his hiding place, only a scarce few yards away. Noticing the back of his unwary opponent turning towards him, Jack readied himself for the kill, about to emerge from the brush with his ingram in hand ready to end Adam’s life before he would even knew what was happening.
He stopped short as Adam kicked off the riverbank, leaping clear into the air over the stretch of rushing water. Though it looked as though he were about to falter in midair, he manage to make the opposite bank, just barely, catching his feet against the side of the bank and falling forward.
Jack’s gun arm faltered, and fell completely. He could only watch silently, completely out of notice, as Adam slowly dragged himself to his feet and wandered back the direction he came, disappearing in to the brush…
It had caught Jack completely off guard, for he had not expected Adam, wounded and no doubt weakened as he was, to leap clear over the width of the river itself. Either way, it deprived Jack of his one opportunity to eliminate another player from the game, leaving him with utter disappointment. But Jack couldn’t beat himself up over it now. No matter what happened, he had to make sure justice was done.
As more gunshots shattered the tranquil ambience of the surrounding environment in the direction Adam had disappeared, Jack continued to wait. By this point, it was likely that the other three finalists had bumped into one another, and were battling amongst themselves in an all-out fight for survival. Jack wondered briefly if someone had fallen by now, and who. Though more importantly, Jack thought over the possible survivor of the skirmish. By now, he had a feeling that soon, all would end with him and just one other person fighting for the surviving position, the winner’s place. Though all in all, it was a gut feeling…but Jack could not help but wonder just who would he be up against.
Who would be my final opponent, I wonder? Out of Sidney, Cody, and Adam, I will end up having to face one. Who will be my second, and last kill?
Either way, it was at that point, that Jack knew that the end of his story was drawing near. Everything would go the way he had planned since the time he’d killed the female terrorist at the open field. The game would end by his terms. And most importantly, justice would be served.
The gunshots finally ceased. Jack saw the silence as a cue to enter stage, and play his part in this game. Tightening his grip on the ingram with renewed resolve, he emerged from his hiding place, looking about cautiously as he did so, striding straight towards the direction in which the gunshots had come from. He cleared his mind of the allies he’d lost, his dead teammates, the sin he had committed in the open field. The end was near, and all he had left to do was to see it through.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
It was odd, really. At certain times in one's life, there are moments that make you cock your head to the side and wonder 'are you serious?' Moments that occur that seem to be too carefully planned to be mere coincidence. Sometimes, things happen that seem as though fate is indeed out there somewhere, carefully planning out the outcomes of different situations, not leaving anything at all to chance.
The latest few moments, of course, had seemed to follow that path, and as Adam Dodd mused to himself that now, it seemed time to find out where Jack O'Connor had gotten to, it seemed almost appropriate that Jack O'Connor saunter out of the woods to the north, almost directly in front of Adam.
Almost as if he were waiting for his cue...
Taking the stage analogy with a slight smirk, Adam raised his Uzi and aimed to squarely at Jack, who, as he saw Adam standing across the field from him, did exactly the same thing. A thin line became the expression across Adam's face, for as he'd felt such rage when he'd been fighting against Cody Jenson, he felt almost nothing as he stared across at Jack O'Connor. In fact, in a way, he almost felt...wrong.
The entire ten days of SOTF, from the first morning of Day One to the evening of Day Ten, Adam Dodd had only killed when the person he was fighting was fighting him, or had done something to him or one of his friends. Essentially, retribution in most every case - sans the case of Marcus Roddy, though that was more a sympathy-kill if there ever was one. Adam had nothing against Jack O'Connor, knew him from around school, and whatnot. He'd seen him when he'd gone with Amanda to watch the baseball games at Barry Coleson High School, mainly to try and win the girl's affections, as opposed to an outright interest in baseball. Jack and him had spoken briefly a few times, and they'd had one class together, but never really socialized. As such, Jack was pretty much an enigma to Adam. He didn't know what he'd done (or hadn't done) to survive on the island, and while he hadn't heard Jack's name over the PA for killing anyone but Kaige, he knew that the boy had more than likely gone through as much as he himself had.
But it doesn't feel right. Can I really kill someone who I have nothing against, who hasn't attacked me, or done anything to me? Someone I knew, somebody that seems like they've avoided most of the conflict on the island? Shit.
As he aimed the Uzi at Jack and watched as the other boy did the same, Adam wondered if Jack was having any preconcieved doubts about his current situation. Sure, it was down to them, and Adam knew that in order to survive - in order to do the ONE thing that he'd been focused on since he got here, he'd have to shoot down Jack O'Connor, but even still, even after all of the killing that he'd done, this one seemed...different, in some way.
Not knowing really what else to do, and unable to read the stoic glance on Jack's face, Adam tried to cut through the tension in the air, not even thinking for a second of lowering his weapon, but finally breaking the tense silence that hung through the valley.
"Jack O'Connor...s'been awhile, man. You look like you haven't suffered a scratch. Good for you, man. It's...it's just down to you and me."
Adam guestured with his head at where the corpses of Sidney Crosby and Cody Jenson lay, Sidney sprawled out, head destroyed, the only way that you'd know it was him by the jersey on his back, and Cody, essentially stapled to the tree with a sword, the word 'rapist' carved in his chest and a pool of blood at his feet. Adam kept his eyes locked on Jack, not looking away, knowing that if Jack was or had become a cold-hearted killer, the slightest glance away from him could be Adam's last.
The latest few moments, of course, had seemed to follow that path, and as Adam Dodd mused to himself that now, it seemed time to find out where Jack O'Connor had gotten to, it seemed almost appropriate that Jack O'Connor saunter out of the woods to the north, almost directly in front of Adam.
Almost as if he were waiting for his cue...
Taking the stage analogy with a slight smirk, Adam raised his Uzi and aimed to squarely at Jack, who, as he saw Adam standing across the field from him, did exactly the same thing. A thin line became the expression across Adam's face, for as he'd felt such rage when he'd been fighting against Cody Jenson, he felt almost nothing as he stared across at Jack O'Connor. In fact, in a way, he almost felt...wrong.
The entire ten days of SOTF, from the first morning of Day One to the evening of Day Ten, Adam Dodd had only killed when the person he was fighting was fighting him, or had done something to him or one of his friends. Essentially, retribution in most every case - sans the case of Marcus Roddy, though that was more a sympathy-kill if there ever was one. Adam had nothing against Jack O'Connor, knew him from around school, and whatnot. He'd seen him when he'd gone with Amanda to watch the baseball games at Barry Coleson High School, mainly to try and win the girl's affections, as opposed to an outright interest in baseball. Jack and him had spoken briefly a few times, and they'd had one class together, but never really socialized. As such, Jack was pretty much an enigma to Adam. He didn't know what he'd done (or hadn't done) to survive on the island, and while he hadn't heard Jack's name over the PA for killing anyone but Kaige, he knew that the boy had more than likely gone through as much as he himself had.
But it doesn't feel right. Can I really kill someone who I have nothing against, who hasn't attacked me, or done anything to me? Someone I knew, somebody that seems like they've avoided most of the conflict on the island? Shit.
As he aimed the Uzi at Jack and watched as the other boy did the same, Adam wondered if Jack was having any preconcieved doubts about his current situation. Sure, it was down to them, and Adam knew that in order to survive - in order to do the ONE thing that he'd been focused on since he got here, he'd have to shoot down Jack O'Connor, but even still, even after all of the killing that he'd done, this one seemed...different, in some way.
Not knowing really what else to do, and unable to read the stoic glance on Jack's face, Adam tried to cut through the tension in the air, not even thinking for a second of lowering his weapon, but finally breaking the tense silence that hung through the valley.
"Jack O'Connor...s'been awhile, man. You look like you haven't suffered a scratch. Good for you, man. It's...it's just down to you and me."
Adam guestured with his head at where the corpses of Sidney Crosby and Cody Jenson lay, Sidney sprawled out, head destroyed, the only way that you'd know it was him by the jersey on his back, and Cody, essentially stapled to the tree with a sword, the word 'rapist' carved in his chest and a pool of blood at his feet. Adam kept his eyes locked on Jack, not looking away, knowing that if Jack was or had become a cold-hearted killer, the slightest glance away from him could be Adam's last.
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Now that Jack thought about it, out of the one-twenty players who had taken part in this game of survival, it could have been any two people who could have made it to the final stage of SOTF. Had things turned out differently, chances are he wouldn't he standing here right now, awake and alive, and it would be no doubt be some other person who would take his place as one of the two finalists. Had his reaction time back at the open field been a split second too late, Terrorist Angelina Kaige might have been standing right here, right now, and Jack himself would be rotting in the wake of destruction back at the helicopter crash site. For all he knew, if fate had decided any differently, Jack could have ended up having to face off against one of his own allies...or perhaps one of the very teammates he considered brothers. For all he knew, he might not have had a chance at all, and in a different reality, he might as well have been the first one killed.
Just who decided what scenario would unfold when all other scenarios were just as likely? Just who wrote the plot in this intricate story? Who decided what would happen, and more importantly, who would happen? Did luck just roll a few dice and drew names from a hat? Was it out of pure luck that his own name, along with just one other, was drawn? Or did fate determine this from the start? Was he destined from the beginning to stand here, this very moment, to fight out the final chapter of this manmade nightmare?
What if this happened...what if that hadn't.... so many 'what if' scenarios ran through Jack's mind as he gazed coldly and steadily towards the redheaded form in front of him, uzi raised just as Jack's was. In the moment of tense silence that followed, Jack couldn't help but wonder if fate had to do with anything at all, even.
If everything was predetermined, then string puppets were all the two of them were. Everything had been decided, planned, the script drafted and painstakingly perfected until fate decided that this was what would happen, no questions asked. He and Adam were meant to face off.
But in turn...what did that mean? Would he kill Adam at last as a way of delivering justice and exacting revenge for killing Jason? Was that what fate wanted for him? Or was it he who would be shot down in this moment? Who of the two of them would ultimately emerge the victor over all? Who would live to see the end of this story?
Jack knew, that he, Adam, and the rest of the world would soon find out.
As Adam finally spoke, breaking the silence that had once again enveloped the island, gripping the atmosphere like a tightening vice, Jack kept a stoic, emotionless expression, keeping a careful aim straight towards Adam. At the same time, his mind was fully aware of the uzi that was pointed squarely towards him. At the corner of his vision, he registered the headless corpse of Sidney Crosby lying upon the ground, as the sight of Cody pinned to a tree with a sabre, the unmistakable word, "RAPIST" cut deep into the surface of his chest as though burned in red ink.
"Indeed," Jack replied curtly. "Though I can't imagine you're doing as well as I am what with the way you look right now. But since you're still alive, I suppose that's all that matters."
The ingram in his hand clicked slightly as Jack adjusted his grip for better comfort, at the same time narrowing his eyes towards Adam Dodd.
This was the guy who killed Jason...
"I see you've gotten your revenge," he remarked calmly. "And then some." He seemed to shift his head in Sidney's general direction, what was left of the former celebrity hockey player. Looking back towards Adam, never faltering in his stance, nor his aim, he cleared his throught slightly before letting out what he meant to say.
"You should know that it'd be a relieving sight to see you on the ground with your chest riddled in bullets," he told Adam in a frank voice. "I can't let you kill me knowing that you killed my teammate Jason Andrews. And I'll be damned if I let you off this island alive knowing of all the people you've killed in cold blood. You're ten...no, twelve times a murderer, Adam, and you know it. You don't deserve to go home. Maybe Amanda. Maybe the one you wanted to avenge. But not you."
He paused for a moment, looking to make sure that Adam heard each and every word he uttered. But as he contemplated his next words, his expression seemed to unharden itself, as though in an expression of unease, or perhaps remorse.
"Though by this point, I'm not really that different from you anymore," he said quietly. "I'm a killer too. I shot that...bitch, that terrorist, Angelina Kaige. She raped you, right? Even if you're happy to know she's dead now, it's hardly something for me to be proud of."
His expression once again hardened into what appeared to be anger, anger towards someone who no longer existed, or perhaps towards something on which he could never incur his wrath, because it only existed metaphorically, or perhaps it was simply beyond his reach.
"She killed my allies....Martyn Ferdinand, Jill Gatling...our plan to escape was going so well until that bitch turned up! She killed two of my teammates, and thanks to her, I'm the only one left. I thought that I was doing the right thing, killing her out of revenge...but now...."
It was then that the aim of his ingram faltered slightly in unison with his confidence at the moment. "It's just a crime that I can't shake off. I've despised murderers all my life, and now I've become one. Nothing can change, or pay for what I did. I am what I despise the most now."
He directed his gaze towards Adam once again, eyes flaring with a wrath that was cold and icy, a stoic expression turning his face to stone once again.
"Tell me, how do you do it?" he asked Adam. "How do you manage to keep from kicking yourself over the fact that more than ten people died by your hand? How do you manage to override any remorse you feel over the crimes you've committed? Or do you simply don't feel guilt anymore? Cody Jenson wronged your friends, and for that you sought revenge. Did it ever occur to you that others may come hunting you down, seeking revenge for the friends you killed?"
His voice lowered into something of a murmur as he finally lowered his ingram, allowing his arm to fall to his side.
"I'd like to at least know why you did it. Tell me, Adam. How does one choose the path of a serial killer? You've been playing that role longer than I have, you chose that path and you stuck to it. So....why?"
Just who decided what scenario would unfold when all other scenarios were just as likely? Just who wrote the plot in this intricate story? Who decided what would happen, and more importantly, who would happen? Did luck just roll a few dice and drew names from a hat? Was it out of pure luck that his own name, along with just one other, was drawn? Or did fate determine this from the start? Was he destined from the beginning to stand here, this very moment, to fight out the final chapter of this manmade nightmare?
What if this happened...what if that hadn't.... so many 'what if' scenarios ran through Jack's mind as he gazed coldly and steadily towards the redheaded form in front of him, uzi raised just as Jack's was. In the moment of tense silence that followed, Jack couldn't help but wonder if fate had to do with anything at all, even.
If everything was predetermined, then string puppets were all the two of them were. Everything had been decided, planned, the script drafted and painstakingly perfected until fate decided that this was what would happen, no questions asked. He and Adam were meant to face off.
But in turn...what did that mean? Would he kill Adam at last as a way of delivering justice and exacting revenge for killing Jason? Was that what fate wanted for him? Or was it he who would be shot down in this moment? Who of the two of them would ultimately emerge the victor over all? Who would live to see the end of this story?
Jack knew, that he, Adam, and the rest of the world would soon find out.
As Adam finally spoke, breaking the silence that had once again enveloped the island, gripping the atmosphere like a tightening vice, Jack kept a stoic, emotionless expression, keeping a careful aim straight towards Adam. At the same time, his mind was fully aware of the uzi that was pointed squarely towards him. At the corner of his vision, he registered the headless corpse of Sidney Crosby lying upon the ground, as the sight of Cody pinned to a tree with a sabre, the unmistakable word, "RAPIST" cut deep into the surface of his chest as though burned in red ink.
"Indeed," Jack replied curtly. "Though I can't imagine you're doing as well as I am what with the way you look right now. But since you're still alive, I suppose that's all that matters."
The ingram in his hand clicked slightly as Jack adjusted his grip for better comfort, at the same time narrowing his eyes towards Adam Dodd.
This was the guy who killed Jason...
"I see you've gotten your revenge," he remarked calmly. "And then some." He seemed to shift his head in Sidney's general direction, what was left of the former celebrity hockey player. Looking back towards Adam, never faltering in his stance, nor his aim, he cleared his throught slightly before letting out what he meant to say.
"You should know that it'd be a relieving sight to see you on the ground with your chest riddled in bullets," he told Adam in a frank voice. "I can't let you kill me knowing that you killed my teammate Jason Andrews. And I'll be damned if I let you off this island alive knowing of all the people you've killed in cold blood. You're ten...no, twelve times a murderer, Adam, and you know it. You don't deserve to go home. Maybe Amanda. Maybe the one you wanted to avenge. But not you."
He paused for a moment, looking to make sure that Adam heard each and every word he uttered. But as he contemplated his next words, his expression seemed to unharden itself, as though in an expression of unease, or perhaps remorse.
"Though by this point, I'm not really that different from you anymore," he said quietly. "I'm a killer too. I shot that...bitch, that terrorist, Angelina Kaige. She raped you, right? Even if you're happy to know she's dead now, it's hardly something for me to be proud of."
His expression once again hardened into what appeared to be anger, anger towards someone who no longer existed, or perhaps towards something on which he could never incur his wrath, because it only existed metaphorically, or perhaps it was simply beyond his reach.
"She killed my allies....Martyn Ferdinand, Jill Gatling...our plan to escape was going so well until that bitch turned up! She killed two of my teammates, and thanks to her, I'm the only one left. I thought that I was doing the right thing, killing her out of revenge...but now...."
It was then that the aim of his ingram faltered slightly in unison with his confidence at the moment. "It's just a crime that I can't shake off. I've despised murderers all my life, and now I've become one. Nothing can change, or pay for what I did. I am what I despise the most now."
He directed his gaze towards Adam once again, eyes flaring with a wrath that was cold and icy, a stoic expression turning his face to stone once again.
"Tell me, how do you do it?" he asked Adam. "How do you manage to keep from kicking yourself over the fact that more than ten people died by your hand? How do you manage to override any remorse you feel over the crimes you've committed? Or do you simply don't feel guilt anymore? Cody Jenson wronged your friends, and for that you sought revenge. Did it ever occur to you that others may come hunting you down, seeking revenge for the friends you killed?"
His voice lowered into something of a murmur as he finally lowered his ingram, allowing his arm to fall to his side.
"I'd like to at least know why you did it. Tell me, Adam. How does one choose the path of a serial killer? You've been playing that role longer than I have, you chose that path and you stuck to it. So....why?"
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