Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer

[Theseus†]

Rick watched as people ran off, and the scene changed before him. Changing his attention back to Dawson however, Rick nodded and said, "Alright. We better move on then."

Rick turned to Bree and said, "Sorry about James. Me and Dawson have some business to take care of. You're welcome to tag along until we find ourselves a target, then it'll be best you leave. I'm sure James will want to have you alive, not dead."

Rick looked around and thought of where to go next. He wasn't even sure who he had in mind. I guess when they found themselves confronted with a deadly situation they would just act. Or when they saw someone who was a killer he would just shoot. It was as simple as that. Too bad he wouldn't be going home to ship off with the marines.

Adjusting his pack Rick turned to walk away, and as he made his way into the dark forest he noticed that dawn was coming fast. Soon the names of the dead would be read, and danger zones announced. Soon the island would be lit up, and the violence would only intensify. A week on the island was too long.

Rick felt his facial hair and wondered how he looked. He had the "rugged" look going on right now, and he didn't much care for it. He was used to shaving daily and keeping clean and proper for the marines.

Marching into the forest however, he only thought of what lay ahead. What lay ahead for him and Dawson.

((Rick Holeman continued elsewhere))

[Namira]

And... Dacey followed along after Rick.

((Dacey continued in:
This Is How I Disappear

Don't really feel like posting but she's holding the place up))

[riserugu†]

[[ Gah. I can't believe that I forgot I'm Bree's handler now. ]]

Bree glanced up from where she had gone into a thoughtful stupor of sorts, barely listening to the words around her as she racked her mind for some way that might lead her toward finding James. Tilting her head somewhat at Rick and smiling somewhat sadly before shaking her head, "Thanks but no thanks... you two seem to have a mission, and I certainly don't want to slow you down." She said lightly, rubbing her fingers against her ring again as she gave a soft sigh.

"But, um... well--I certainly don't want to tell you good luck knowing what you're going to do." Bree continued, glancing off a little. "Well, I hope everything works out for you in the end."

That said the small girl turned and glanced around the area surrounding the tower, she'd rather not go back into the jungle but if she wasn't to go anywhere she would need to. Sifting uncomfortably before starting down the hill that the lookout tower sat on, she pushed herself to keep moving... wanting to find James before anything bad happened to him.

[[ Bree continued elsewhere... ]]

[AtomicWaffle†]

((Continued from Slow Chemical.))

Stephanie followed Dorian quietly. She didn't entirely believe that they would actually find any kind of equipment at the tower; the terrorists seemed to know what they were doing, and most of the equipment is probably on a boat off the island. It made sense to her, but she stayed the hell away from any techno-crap, so she could easily be wrong.

She brought the old rifle to bear as she exited into the clearing. A body lay nearby, violently slashed. It looked like - No. She didn't want to see who it was.

"Sounds like a plan..." Stephanie pointed to the body with her rifle. "...and take care of yourself, it isn't safe out in the open here."

On those words she walked off, a now more vigilant. It was good to have a brief respite from the violence that was going on all over the island, but it wouldn't last.

((Again, really sorry for the delay. I've had a really shitty past few days - school related.))

[Pigeon Army†]

((No worries, AW.))

Stephanie walked off to the other side of the clearing, and Dorian looked up at the sky. The rain was slowing, and the sun was rising. It was oddly cleansing, and Dorian closed his eyes as the rain hit his face softly.

There's gotta be some transmitter somewhere. They can't possibly be sending the announcements otherwise.

Shit. The announcements.

Dorian hadn't noticed that Danya's regular midnight slap-around hadn't been broadcast, but now realised something had to be wrong if this was the case. What are they doing? Is Danya fucking with us, or has he finally been cornered in a courtyard by the fucking Bolivian army or something?

Well, no time like the present.

"Time to find that goddamned transmitter."

As he said the words, he noticed his voice sounded hollow. Dorian was skeptical that he would find a transmitter, but that one over-optimistic part of him that wanted him to get everyone off the island and be the great savior played that line in his head on a continuous loop. Find that transmitter. Find that transmitter. Find that transmitter.

Dorian trekked around the clearing, scanning every inch of it for anything that looked like an aerial.

Fingers crossed.

[nope†]

Meow. Meow. Meow.

Fucking cat. Every fucking morning, clawing at his door. It was maddening. One of these days he would just take the cursed thing and snap its next against the wall.

He tried in vain to burrow back into sleep.

Meeeeeeeeeoooooooooow.

The beast was infuriatingly persistent. He thought of throwing something against the door to scare it off. But that wouldn't work, it would be back. Returning to sleep wasn't an option either, its caws drilled into him too painfully for sleep.

But he refused to give the little monster what it wanted. He instead stayed in bed and ignored its maddening cries.

MeeeoooKCHRKKK

It took Hayden several seconds to realize that this sound was not one a cat could make.

It took him several more to realize his bed was in fact the base of a tree.

He bolted up with a start. His memories of the past several days returned in a flood, threatening to drown him in its panicked currents. He spun around and scanned the jungle. There was no one. This did nothing to slow his frantic heart. He felt that there could be someone lurking out there, or maybe two, ten, a dozen, a hundred hungry assailants ready to rend his flesh.

Meeeooow.

The branches above him continued to rub and clash into each other. Their cries only worked to enhance the crushing eeriness Hayden felt here.

He grabbed his pack and club from beside where he had been laying, and started a mad dash from the site.

Meeeooow.

((Hayden continued elsewhere))

[AtomicWaffle†]

Stephanie walked all the way to the end of the field, with no sign of a transmitter on or around the tower. She looked over at Dorian, who had came from the other side.

"Dorian, there's nothing here, and it's probably not on the tower, I mean... seriously, it would have to be pretty well hidden if they actually used it to transmit... anything..."

She shook her head and walked over to him.

[Pigeon Army†]

Dorian walked around the clearing, his eyes scanning across every inch of clear ground. Clear, undisturbed, grass-covered ground. Not a single transmitter, not a single power box, not even a single goddamned aerial.

It's the highest altitude on the goddamned island, what the fuck is going on here? There's gotta be something, there's gotta be fucking SOMETHING, ANY-FUCKING-THING...

Footsteps.

Dorian wheeled around, the empty gun held up at his shoulder. The empty gun. I can't even fucking defend myself from loonies.

Luckily, it was only Stephanie. He lowered the gun. "Well? Please tell me you've found something, anything..."

"Dorian, there's nothing here, and it's probably not on the tower, I mean... seriously, it would have to be pretty well hidden if they actually used it to transmit... anything..."

Dorian stared at her face for a second, then looked down at the ground. He was turning red. He looked back up at Stephanie, face contorted in a vision of anger.

"NO! NO, THAT...that can't be fucking possible. This isn't some sort of magic announcement system, there's gotta be something, anything!"

He spun around, furious. "I've gotta find it, we've gotta save everyone, it's the only way, it's the only way..."

The announcement system crackled, but instead of Danya's mocking tones, the crackle continued for a few more seconds, and then silence reigned. Dorian twitched, and dropped the gun.

"That fucking prick. WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?! WHAT IS IT YOU FUCKING WANT?!"

He picked up the gun and stared at Stephanie, bitter tears welling up in his eyes. "There's gotta be something. It may not be the highest place on the island, but there's gotta be a broadcasting system somewhere. Are you still in? You can leave at any, any time. Fuck. There's gotta be something."

[AtomicWaffle†]

Stephanie stared at Dorian. He'd gone from stable to batshit crazy in sixty seconds. She jumped at his sudden fit of rage. What the hell was happening to him? She snapped back and interrupted Dorian.

"Okay, look - You might just have to accept the fact that you might not be able to save anyone. You get off when you're the last guy left standing, aside from that we're pretty much fucked."

A heavy gust of wind blew as she paused. Steph had to yell for Dorian to even hear her at this point.

"If, by some miracle you manage to shut off the collars, then explain how we're actually going to get off the fuckin' island? They shoot anybody that leaves and if the collars went all down at once they'd just storm the place and kill us all. It was a dumb idea in the first place."

Without another word she turned and ran, gun slung over her shoulder.

((Stephanie Evans continued elsewhere))

[Pigeon Army†]

Dorian was pissed. In fact, he was more than pissed. He was irate, vitriolic, infuriated, extremely fucking angry. There had to be a transmission tower - it made no sense that there was none, surely it would be physically impossible to transmit the announcements to such a remote and unknown location any other way. And yet here he was, on the highest point of the island, and there was no transmission tower. Just emptiness.

Dorian had prided himself on his intelligence and his logic in devising this plan. But now it was falling apart. And Stephanie Evans decided to put the boot in.

"Okay, look - You might just have to accept the fact that you might not be able to save anyone. You get off when you're the last guy left standing, aside from that we're pretty much fucked. If, by some miracle you manage to shut off the collars, then explain how we're actually going to get off the fuckin' island? They shoot anybody that leaves and if the collars went all down at once they'd just storm the place and kill us all. It was a dumb idea in the first place."

Stephanie's yelled words stunned Dorian. He stood there, staring at her. His face was red, and a tear dropped down his eye. As she finished, he wiped it away angrily. Then she turned and walked away.

Dorian shook his head. What the fuck does she know? he thought bitterly. She doesn't even fucking understand what I was going to do. It's to get everyone to ditch their weapons, not to shut off the fucking collars! Goddamn her and her fucking fatalism. We can fucking get out of here, and it's people like her who stop us from doing it. Fuck her, and fuck all the fucking naysayers. I'm gonna find that goddamned transmission tower, and I'm going to broadcast what I need to fucking broadcast.

The stream of F-words running through his mind slowly petered off as he walked into the jungle, bitter, but resolved and determined. He was going to find that tower, if it was the last thing he did.

Which, knowing the island, it probably would be.

((Dorian Sanders continued elsewhere))

[Mandy Rin†]

((And I hop in and hijack Amanda's brain. As Amanda has been inactive for so long, this will be a bit of a recap to establish what she's been doing.))

Four shots rang out, and like everyone else, Amanda hit the ground. It was fortunate that she had already lowered her weapon, because otherwise she'd have fired it on instinct, probably blowing herself and everyone around her to kingdom come. She hadn't been hit, thank God, and from the sounds of it neither had anyone else. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed. On one hand, less corpses meant more threats. On the other... well, it just seems a shame. Not only would it be a waste of life, but it'd be a humiliating way to go. She'd hate to go out like that – if she had to die, she was going fighting. The gunman seemed to be long gone, perhaps having realised that taking on a group alone isn't the best strategy, even if you do have both the element of surprise and a loaded gun. Seems neither can compensate for shit aim.

In the confusion, everyone forgot about the girl with the grenade launcher. Amanda stifled a snort. Sure, ask if everyone's okay, but don't bother investigating if someone doesn't answer. Usually she'd be rather miffed at being slighted like this, but today, in this scenario, it worked to her advantage. She kept down, behind some shrubbery, listening and watching. Gathering intel. She watched as Kimmy Redmond ran the rest of the way up the slope, Eddie Sullivan hot on her heels, and kept watching as the tables turned and both disappeared from sight. She watched as Rick Holeman and Dawson Ashcroft formed a bloodthirsty alliance bent on vengeance. She watched as Bree witnessed the moment then left to continue her search for James, and she watched as Dorian Sanders and Stephanie Evans' shaky alliance fell apart at their failure to find a transmitter. 'They can't have been looking that hard – or they'd have found me.' But then again, they were looking places where a transmitter would be, rather than places where a potential assailant would be.

It's amazing what one can find out if one just stays still, watches, listens. But she had played dead long enough – it was time for action. She was getting fidgety. Time to figure out what to do with this information. Amanda got up slowly, keeping to the shadows.

She considered following in the direction of Rick and Dawson – Rick was crazy about the Marines, and she'd had quite a lot of experience in team combat simulations, considering her hobbies. Plus, they were both athletes and loved team sports (namely football) – he'd probably make an excellent partner. And she played soccer with Dawson – or rather, she had played – and was willing to trust her. She felt a strong loyalty to her teammates.

But she'd almost been slaughtered in her sleep already – that wasn't going to happen again. She may work best in a team, but here not even your own team could be trusted. Plus, though she appreciated Rick's self-sacrificing sentiment, it looked to her like fighting for peace wasn't much different from playing the game. She didn't want to play - she wanted to survive. Perhaps even escape. Hah, that'd really be sticking it to Danya. And she didn't want to team up with a bunch of people who thought their own lives were so easily expendable. Or did she?

The alternative was staying here. She'd been pretty safe so far. But she knew that with her terrible impromptu hiding spot she'd been pushing it. The lookout tower looked to be a good strategic point, but there's really not much point in strategic points when it's just you, instead of a whole platoon.

Right then. She'd tail them. Watch from a distance, gather more intel, then decide.

Hefting her B&T GL-06 onto her shoulder, Amanda briskly headed in the direction she had seen them go, wearily keeping her weapon at the ready and always on the lookout.

((Amanda Redder continued elsewhere...))