Nothing at the cost of everything

[Jotun†]

For quite some time, Darren had chosen not to truly awaken from his sleep. He did not know how long it had been since he had realized he was laying down in dirt and filled with the vague smell of corn, but he had been willing himself to lay down, to fall asleep, to dream. Normally, he never got a chance to do this, he had always needed to wake up for some commitment or another. Now he had nothing, nothing but death was waiting for him. So, Darren decided it was as good a time as any to sleep in. His thoughts drifted in and out of normal things; grades, sex, friends, family. His brother came to mind after that last one.

"Shit!"

Darren sprung to his feet. Who would take care of Max? Not their surrogate father, he could hardly focus on life at all. Max would need help with his homework and work and to be fed and clothed, and Darren had to do all of that. His entire life he'd been working to give him and his brother oppurunities and a chance at a real life. Now, because of Survival of the Fittest, Darren had lost that chance, everything he had worked for was going to be gone. He had failed his brother.

Unless he could survive.

He reached that conclusion rather suddenly, previously having accepted death - there was no way he could survive against such impossible odds. Yet, there was nothing else to do. He had to survive. The odds would have to be overcome, Darren had come so close to his goals without failing, and who among the island's killers could match that determination?

"I have to get back." Said Darren aloud. "I can't lose everything without trying."

His resolve tightened, his despair forced into the back of his mind, Darren checked the bags that had landed nearby, identifiable in what seemed ot be a field of corn by the toppled cornstalks a few feet away. One was the bag he'd packed his clothes in, it was useles to him now. The other one, a backpack, labeled "B32". The one he'd been issued. He would have been curious to see his weapon, but tied around the bag was an ornamental scabbard - one for a sword, he knew. Darren picked up the blade the and unsheathed it.

It was a katana. The weapon of passed Japanese warriors, revered for it's strength and cutting ability. It would suit well. Darren took a mighty swing at the corn around him, expecting to see the stalks topple around him. Instead, after the swing, several of them stood straight up again, having been merely pushed down, the first few he had attacked cut slightly and sticking to the blade before he pulled it away. Closer examination made Darren swear.

"Fuck! It's dull... ducking dull..." His frustration cleared, however. Darren worked in a steel plant, and knew the material could still cut even if not sharpened... in fact, he knew from experience it was quite painful. He did not really want to hurt anyone, but it would help if he was forced to kill them... when he was forced to kill.

Encouraged, and somewhat optimistic for his future, Darren set off away from the sun, looking for oppurtunity.

((Continued elsewhere))