The Beggar King

[Grim Wolf]

A long pause. The boy stared at her, she stared at him, hand still out. She resisted the urge to swallow, to betray any sign of her nerves and her agitation. If he attacked now, it could all go to hell; if she hadn't been able to...

"Anyone ever tell you you're dramatic as fuck?" Garrett asked her.

Belle didn't look at him, but the flash of anger dispelled her anger and left her feeling oddly at ease again.

"Anyone ever tell you they'd rather have broken glass shoved into their ears than hear your voice?" she asked.

"Still waiting on that cigarette." He paused for a moment. "Belle."

"God damn it, Garrett," she snapped. "Would you just-"

And then she broke off, because the boy in front of her had grabbed her hand. Her eyes flickered back to him; he had a sudden look of confidence in his eyes, or at least less of fear.

He started to speak. And then Garrett cut him off.

Oh.

Oh...I...

No. No no no, it was too fast, they'd already but a bounty on her, they didn't have a reason to come, why would they, she was already in enough danger as she was, and the one girl Belle had faced had been using a bow and arrow and this was so much worse, this was trained soldiers with guns, and it didn't matter how long she'd trained or how good she was, there was no way she could walk away from-

Someone cleared their throat. Belle and the others looked up. Liz was standing at the top of the stairs with the boy she'd gone in to talk to. Her throat looked worse from this distance--she'd really done a number on herself. Was that what they'd all have to do to break out?

"We need to go back to the tunnels. Or at least I need to go back to the tunnels. If they're going to kill me, I should be in the tunnels. There are radio relays there--I can break them without getting blown. If enough relays go, the entire tunnel becomes a blackout zone."

"I can't--I can't go fast. I'm injured. If someone could carry me to the tunnels, I'd appreciate it."

Liz was going to keep fighting. Liz intended to create a safe zone on the island.

Well. Okay, then.

"What are you using to break the relays?" Belle asked. Liz held up her gun; Belle, remembering their conversation in the tunnels, shook her head. "No, bad idea, your gun only has twelve rounds in it. Anyone have a gun with more than twelve rounds? If so, you're trading with Liz."

The boy she'd been talking to--huh, she didn't even know his name--stepped past her without a word, and offered Liz his gun. They traded, and without further ado he lifted her into a fireman's carry and went striding towards the grand doors he'd just slammed open.

"If I find you offed her, I'll hunt you personally," she said quietly. He didn't even look at her; just kept walking towards the doors.

They'd need to move fast, now. Liz would be setting the pace of the group.

"Alright," she said shortly, swinging the netgun off her shoulder. She looked betweene everyone, remembered Garrett didn't have a weapon, and surrendered hers. "This is yours," she said. "It's a net gun with two shots left. Make'em count." Her eyes flickered back. "Garrett, you'll have to struggle to keep up, I hope you can handle it. Stick to the rear, net anything that looks like it's gonna hurt us. Jeremy, stick close to Liz, make sure they're okay."

Her mind was racing, her heart was pounding, she felt exhilaration and terror and fear and wonder all at once. They were going to try and protect Liz from the same highly-trained sons of bitches who'd landed them here in the first place. The prospect gave Belle that same giddy thrill she'd experienced while fighting Garrett or shoving that girl down the mountain--that knowledge that she was acting and she was acting for the better.

I'm trying, Master Xiang. God, I'm trying.

"Please, don't g-go with her!" Madeleine stammered. "Sh-she's just going to get you killed. Can't you see it?"

Belle, moving about, rallying the others (boy from up top, Jeremy, right? And Garrett) froze and turned back to Madeleine, who was now blocking the door, and the boy she'd just met and who'd looked so angry now was getting away. Her immediate instinct was to strike the girl--they didn't have time for this, they didn't have time for hesitation or fear. If Madeleine wasn't with them, that was too damn bad.

Madeleine sounded desperate and Belle had promised herself she'd listen.

Fuck.

"Maddy," she said slowly, and thought with a pain of Machete--Machete, who'd been killed by some Japanese boy whose name she didn't even remember. "Maddy," she repeated, and she was thinking of Jackie who had died by the hands of a girl who'd gone off the deep end but also because Belle hadn't listened.

"You're not wrong," she said. "We might die." She paused, took a deep breath. "Hell, odds are good we will die. I don't know if we're outnumbered, but they'll definitely be better armed then we are."

Let them face that, they deserved that much. Helping Liz was extremely dangerous; if they felt they should walk away, they should have that chance.

She just wanted to make sure they didn't feel that way.

"Liz is going to create a safe zone," Belle said loudly, so that Garrett and Jeremy could hear her. "Far as I know, that's never happened before. She's breaking the game, and she's putting her life on the line to do it." She shifted, keeping her eyes locked on Maddy. "I've seen people die already, so I know it's..." She searched, then shook her head. "There isn't a word," she said softly. "It's just wrong."

God, she didn't want to die.

"But they want us to keep killing each other until only one of us is left alive," Belle said. "The people who are hunting Liz want us to murder each other." She shook her head. "They expect us to die. For all but one of us, they've left us no choice but to die."

She tapped the collar around her throat--eternal reminder of the hell into which they had stepped. "I intend to get out of here," Belle said. "I intend to take Liz's plan and break my collar and break my game and live through this, because that's the only way anyone wins. But...but if I have to die?" Belle turned her gaze solidly into Maddy's eyes and tried to communicate the full breadth of her determination. "If I have to die, I'd...I'd rather die fighting the people who are fucking responsbile for this."

She glanced back to Garrett and Jeremy, and then turned her eyes back to Maddy. "If you feel the same, come with us."

No more time for talk. The enemy was on the island, death was in the air, and Mirabelle Nesa, stepping out the doors and after Liz Polanski, had never felt more alive.

(Mirabelle Nesa concluded in The Gully)

[Hollyquin†]

And suddenly, the girl everyone was talking about was there, at the top of the stairs.

Damn, she looks like shit.

The bandage around her neck was what caught his attention immediately mainly because he suddenly realized holy shit. Holy SHIT. She did it. She did...I don't fucking know what she did but she must've done some shit to her collar and it must've fucking WORKED if the fucking terrorists are after her- well. He'd thought about this before, obviously- hell, he wouldn't have given Liz Polanski a second thought if he hadn't believed that she'd really fucked something up hardcore. But to see the proof in front of him...hell. It was almost like this was actually going to get somewhere.

But then there was the whole terrorist death squad thing.

"We need to go back to the tunnels. Or at least I need to go back to the tunnels. If they're going to kill me, I should be in the tunnels. There are radio relays there--I can break them without getting blown. If enough relays go, the entire tunnel becomes a blackout zone."

Suicide mission. This was a suicide mission, Garrett read that loud and clear, and he didn't like it, and he kind of wanted to protest but what the fuck was he gonna say? Revolution demanded sacrifice. It wasn't like he actually liked the girl, he'd just hoped she'd do a little more than go and get herself killed about five minutes after he met her, but whatever, he didn't want a girl running the rebel faction anyway.

Even he recognized how scummy that sounded in his head. Fuck, it's...fuck. There's just nothing else for it.

"I can't--I can't go fast. I'm injured. If someone could carry me to the tunnels--I'd appreciate it."

He would've volunteered. Honestly, he would've. It wasn't a helping people out is good thing or even really a go out in a blaze of glory thing so much as it was a male pride thing. But there was the whole being shot in the leg thing again. Given that the rest of the group consisted of a couple of girls and, Garrett recognized coming from upstairs with Liz, fucking Jeremy Franco (a fucking pussy if he ever knew one), it was pretty obvious who was gonna have to take her. Not that he trusted this new boy, but they were really low on non-dying-type options.

He agreed, apparently, and as she came closer it became more and more clear how injured Liz Polanski really was. Which explained the whole suicide run bit.

This is kind of a shitty revolution. ...Take what you get, I guess.

He took the net gun offered to him, managing not to be too surprised. He recognized that yeah he kind of needed to be armed for this, though he wasn't sure a fucking net gun was gonna do much against the goddamn hit squad. If a killer rabbit attacked them, maybe.

"Garrett, you'll have to struggle to keep up, I hope you can handle it. Stick to the rear, net anything that looks like it's gonna hurt us."

Garrett scowled. He was the goddamn weak link in her eyes. He was gonna have to hustle hard to change her mind.

And then Liz and whatshisface were out the door. With an exaggerated yawn- this was all way on the melodramatic side for him even considering the likelihood that they were all gonna die real soon- he began to follow them out the d

"Please...please don't g-go with her!"

Oh.

Well. This girl was increasingly pathetic. Also increasingly pissing Garrett off. Of course Mirabelle had an answer for her in what was apparently typical Mirabelle fashion and Garrett was just standing there getting more and more irritated with the revolution he'd somehow stumbled into. It was really less Project Mayhem, more Rebel Alliance. Fucking pansy-ass bullshit. Fuck, if she doesn't want to die she's gonna have to go deal with that since this is fucking Survival of the Fittest.

"This ain't more dangerous than anything else, kid. We're all gonna die here if we don't try to do something and so fucking what if we're probably gonna die anyway? Like Belle said. I'd rather die trying to get the fuck out of here than die playing Danya's shitty fucking game."

See, there was Garrett's version of a motivational speech.

"If you're gonna slow us down don't fucking bother."

Rich of him, he of the gimp leg to be saying that.

"You want to be part of something? Let's go."

[[Garrett Hunter continued in The Gully]]

[blastinus]

Well, that was that. As the other members of the group filed out around her, Maddy felt a lump rise in her throat. They were being so stupid, she thought, doing something like this. They wouldn't win, and they must have known that, so why would they willingly follow along with Liz? It just made no sense whatsoever to do something that was guaranteed to result in failure. Maddy could see that, so why couldn't they?

Because they're not a selfish coward like you.

Maddy nodded. That was it, after all. She didn't go with them because she was afraid of dying, because she wanted to play this game and win. She was going to become a killer to survive, and she'd leave a trail of bodies behind herself in the process. That was the only other option, wasn't it? Besides curling up in a ball and killing herself, of course. On this island, you either lived in disgrace, died with honor, or died like a dog. Perhaps, she considered, fighting a pointless battle against evil men was preferable to fighting a battle that she could win against innocent children.

At this point, Madeleine realized that she was crying again. She'd been doing a lot of that lately. After swiping her sleeve across her face to get the tears out of her eyes, she lunged for the mansion doors and threw them open, running out into the island once more. She was sick of herself right now, and if it was possible, she would have charged out of her own body. What kind of person was she that she'd let herself become like this? Was it just because she was human? Clearly not, given that she had just cheerfully waved goodbye to about half a dozen good people who she'd probably never see again. No, it was because she was inhuman, and the sooner she came to grips with her monstrous side like they had done, the sooner she'd actually be good for something.

(Madeleine Smith continued in I Was a Teenage Hand Model)