SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

"Okay. That's not a problem for me. Hell, the only difference between you and me in that second part is that you have the means to take out your targets from the front. I'd have to go from behind to take out anybody like Travis or Hansel or Katarina. For the first part, I'd just prefer to also live through this. I highly doubt that anyone has lived a full life by the age of eighteen. But, yeah. Given whom we're up against, I won't deny you Travis ... okay, I might, if I end up taking him out first. How about it?" Zubin held his hand out.

Tyler's grin widened.  "What is it with you fuckers and wanting to make this a team job?" he asked.  "Least Virge had a bigger picture in mind.  If you're playin' to live, well..."

And all at once his grin was gone.  "Hell," he grunted.  "Maybe you got the right idea."

He examined Zubin's hand for a moment, then reached out and squeezed it in a bone-crushing grip.  "Alright," he said.  "We find Virge out there, he could help us out.  Guy's a fuckin' idealist.  Gotta respect that."  He released Zubin's hand.  "Need you to clear out, though.  I gotta crash for a few hours, let these wounds heal up.  If you're cool hidin' out and waitin' a bit..."

Maybe Tyler was trying to kill him. After all, that handshake did nearly grind Zubin's bones into powder. However, for the time being, he possibly had an alliance with a well-armed, relatively sane person, as well as the possibility of adding a third person into the fold. For the time being, though, all Tyler wanted to do was rest alone.

"No problem." Zubin stood up and took his three bags and stepped out of the room. He carefully looked around and went into the next room over to the left. "I'll stay in here, then. If I want to enter your room, I'll knock once, wait two seconds, and then knock three times."

Tyler grinned.  "Thanks," he said.  He closed the door behind him, then staggered over to the desk on one side and shoved it forward, blocking the door to the office.  He slumped onto the too-small cot that had once born students, limps spilling out every which way, then frowned and rose back to his feet, grabbing a chair and sliding it to the foot of the bed so it would support his injured leg.  Then he flopped back down, one arm dangling over the side of the bed.  

For a long time, he stared up at the ceiling.  Then he sighed and shook his head.

"Ah, hell," he said.  "I'm sorry, Rachael."  He closed his eyes.  "You deserved better."

A moment later, he was snoring.

There was no way he could enter the building and not be heard. The boys inside would both be sleeping, and Joey couldn't take advantage. He had heard all he needed to. No matter what happened from now until Joey's time on the island ended, he knew that he would be in danger. Tyler and Zubin had already proven to be a lethal combination, and there were still people like Hansel out there.

Joey swore in his head at the frustration he was feeling.

I need to see what these two are going to do next...

Joey looked around for anywhere he could hide in for the night and keep watch of the building. He decided to return to the bushes where he lay earlier. From that spot he could see the main entrance and some of the classrooms. Most importantly, the window for the room where Tyler was faced this direction.

Joey made himself comfortable amongst the leaf litter and bushes and began his watch, constantly fighting against his heavier and heavier eyelids.

Zubin was killing time in his room. He started by doing some math. Some of it was quick stuff: multiplication of larger numbers, finding primes or Fibonacci sequences, just to pass the time and not think about the game, a thought that he invariably returned to in some amount of time when he started calculating kill stats, his "Avenger Ratio" for the known killers, and odds on whom he thought was going to win.

Most dangerous killers by volume: Hansel and Katarina, seven each, taking the ratio into account, Katarina wins, 2/7 . to Hansel's 5/7. Most dangerous triple-killer: Travis, average of zero victims per kill. Least dangerous triple-killer: Mara, average of one victim per kill.

It was those thoughts that he was trying to keep out when he finally closed his eyes for a moment of a few hours. When he opened them again, it was dark, both inside and outside. Zubin figured since his side hurt like hell, and he likely wasn't getting any more sleep, that he should likely get up and out. So he took the chair out from under the door, quietly opened it, and then knocked once, waited a little bit, and then three times as he looked around nervously.

Come on, don't put a bullet in me.

Tyler groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he rose reluctantly to his feet.  "One sec," he grunted at the door, probing at his various hurts and wincing a little at each one.  But all the bandages seemed clean and intact, with no blood leaking through.  After a moment, he nodded, and moved to the door, shoving aside the desk he'd used to block it and pushing it open.

"Ain't anyone on this island who ain't dangerous," he said, as soon as he saw Zubin's face.  "Been playing too long for that.  All the kids who didn't get it are gone.  Only people left are survivors and psychopaths."  He gestured down at himself, chuckling a bit.  "And even the psychopaths ain't doin' too hot."

His brief smile flickered out.  "I get you wanna survive," he said.  "But we're playin' for keeps now.  You want to make it to the end, we gotta get you armed.  Can you handle that?"

((OOC: Timeskipping just a bit from you guys to move Joey along))

Joey could feel his brain wanting to give up and go to sleep. He had more than once felt like he was back in English class, snapping back awake as his head fell forward suddenly.

Sunlight began to shine through the trees, signaling that the next day had begun. Joey was still determined to out wait the two boys in the school. They were a danger to him, and to everyone else. He had to keep tabs on them.

Then the all too familiar voice rang out across the island. More killers announced, more people dead. Sure enough, Tyler was listed as having killed Cooper. Joey was a touch surprised in not hearing Zubin's name listed as a co-killer. Jerking himself back to attention, Joey made note of the danger zones which now included exactly where he was.

"Damn it." He muttered.

The boy quickly scanned the school for any sign of movement, before shuffling backwards several feet. Making sure that he had his supplies and weapon, Joey stood up, his body protesting the change from stationary to motion, and began to make his way through the trees and away from the area.

He just didn't have time to wait on the boys in the school. With any luck, they slept through the announcements and the collars would take them out.

((Joey continued elsewhere))

Tyler was serious now. He stated that Zubin had to get armed if they wanted to live. GIven that his best armament was a rock, this seemed pretty obvious, since all he had was a rock. Zubin just nodded.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here."

((Zubin Wadia continued in Belgian Roulette))

Tyler nodded, grabbed his gun and bag, and followed after.

(Tyler Lucas continued in Belgian Roulette)