Loyalty: 2

[Maraoone]

((Matias Juarez continues from Everything Is Going According to Plan))

He stood in front of the now-cold body.

He dug his hand through the crowded bag, expecting to pull out a paper boat, and instead found a crumpled, misshaped sheet of paper.

He didn't really know what he'd been expecting.

The trawler was empty otherwise. No sign of Ashanti.

She wouldn't be able to talk to anyone without him. She'd told him she needed him.

Where the fuck was she?

Maybe she'd come out later. Maybe she'd come back. Maybe not. All the other crabs were still alive anyways, just waiting to be found. If she didn't want to be found, he could find someone else. What-the fuck-ever.

For now, he'd just stand in front of the corpse, uncrumpling these paper boats, looking like a fucking idiot. He'd wait till sunset.

[Catche Jagger]

((Gabriela Garcia-Campos continued from Chapter 1: Prelude))

Back in the bathroom, back at the beginning of the game before she’d met another soul, the pistol had been such an uncomfortable fit for her hand, Gabriela remembered. It hadn’t been any specific thing, the weight, the size, the texture of the metal against her skin. No, the problem had almost certainly been her somehow.

Now, as Gabriela once again led the way through the flotilla, it felt different. She wasn’t sure when that happened. It’d make sense if it was with Carol, but she wasn’t certain that such a shift hadn’t begun earlier.

Her footsteps ceased. There was someone on the large fishing boat ahead. She held up a hand.

“Gotta slow down. Somebody’s here.” She whispered to Elliott, hoping he was paying attention.

Carefully, she made her way forward, and the figure before her became clearer upon approach. It was Matias Juarez, about whom Gabriela knew two things: firstly that, back at school, he’d been an angry gay boy, and secondly that the announcements had named him as a killer.

However, the bandana around his arm matched her own, which meant that the situation might be a bit murkier than normal.

“Elliott, I think we’re dealing with my teammate. Stay behind me.” She kept up the whisper, before taking a moment to collect herself.

Then, Gabriela stood up a bit straighter, passed the pistol into her left hand before raising her right into the air, putting the bandana around her arm on clearer display. Taking a couple steps closer, she called out for the only information she needed in the moment.

“Hey! Are you going for the ten?” Her expression remained as stern as she could manage, though she felt a tightness in her shoulders.

[RetroVenus]

((Elliott-Blair Østergaard continued from Chapter 1: Prelude))

The map said that the upcoming ship was a fishing trawler.

It looked isolated on the map, and it certainly was so when approached. There were two entrances, yes, but they both splintered off the same jetty. One way in, one way out.

The trawler was a good distance away from any other ship. Including the cruise ship, as Elliott-Blair could once again feel an asthma attack looming over the horizon.

He had set out from the corridors of the cruise ship with a sense of purpose. People were going to die. A lot of people were going to die. But that was the nature of SOTF, wasn't it? If he wanted to live, he was going to have to get used to seeing someone die, to the way blood sticks on the underside of his boots.

But the further away he and Gabriela went from Carol's decaying body, the stronger that familiar haze became. There was less of a panic this time around, as he knew that the producers of this terrible show were kind enough to let him keep his inhaler.

Gabriela held up her hand and said...something. What? Elliott-Blair was doing a better job at keeping pace with her, but he still lagged a bit behind. He considered asking what they were stopping for when he saw the figure on the fishing boat.

A boy wearing a orange shirt, fiddling with something.

An orange bandana tied around his arm.

Gabriela's comment sealed it; the boy was one of her teammates. Nothing would be gained from killing him.

Gabriela told Elliott-Blair to stay behind, to which he gave a vague nod. This was good. She could have a talk with a teammate, he could have a moment to breathe.

Crouching down, he swung his (now heavier) daypack in front of him, shuffling through it's contents for the first aid kit while Gabriela asked the boy if he was aiming for the ten. He didn't like being prone, but it was all he could do to prevent him from collapsing again.

[Espi]

((Eric Cunningham continued from Gene Hackman had it easier in The Poseidon Adventure))

He had overdone it.

Running, that is. He'd gone from a full sprint off the deck to a jog out of the cruise ship to a trot all the way to the fishing trawler. That had been his next destination anyway. It had seemed a likely place, with netting and other miscellany, to find a hiding spot, which was perfect for both of his objectives. He needed a place to hide out and rest, and an opportunity to set up another ambush. The last one had not gone as expected, but both of his attempts had netted him a kill. Just eight more.

Of course, first he had to catch his breath. Eric was hunched over, clutching his chest, sweat running down his face, soaking his collar to his stomach and his back to his armpits. Sucking in mouthfuls of air like a dying fish, wiping his face to keep it clear of drool, it was not Eric's most dignified position. Hopefully, nobody saw him as an easy target at this point.

Nobody did. Slowly, weakly, eyes alert for any sign of attack, Eric made it to the trawler without incident. He knew, rationally, he needed to check it for occupants, but he was so tired, he just needed to sit down. Why would anyone come here, anyway? Eric ascended the ramp.

First, he saw the people, and he stopped. At least one of them armed, with a much better looking gun than Eric's own. He was out of breath. He couldn't run.

Then, he saw their bandanas, the colors, the shirt, and he took another breath.

"Hi."

[Maraoone]

"Hey."

Matias kneeled down briefly, laying the now-unfolded, still-creased all over paper boat at Leslie's feet. Retrieved another crumpled pile of paper from his bag. And then he stood up and turned around, scratching off flakes of dried blood from beneath his bent nose. Regarded the three newcomers.

Lots of orange on this boat.

He would've preferred some more agreeable company, actually. Gabby was prickly on the best of days and Eric didn't seem to have any, really. But they were company. Teammates.

There was something resembling irony here. He'd come here looking for his partner, and had been met with two others. A sign telling him he'd made the right choice to come here, perhaps.

Gabby didn't seem in the mood for pleasantries, which worked just as well for him. He was down for getting down to business immediately.

"Team win's easier," he told her. "We gang up on some poor schmuck by his lonesome and he doesn't stand a chance. Simple math."

Speaking of.

He squinted his eyes a little. Looked at the little runt by Gabby's side. The little, teal blue-bandanna wearing runt. Jabbed a finger at him.

He looked back at Gabby.

"What the fuck's he doing here, by the way?

"Also, any of y'all seen Ashanti? Black girl, long, braided hair?"

[Brackie]

((Ashanti Baker continued from It Has A Lasting Impact))

The black girl in question no longer had long, braided hair, but she was nearby, right before the door to the cabin and quarters.

At some point, she was going to have to do what she needed - if that was indeed her team with Matias, that was safety, and the only weapon she had was still downstairs and incredibly useless. But she had things she needed to tell Matias, and there weren't just things about her.

She swallowed.

Once things cleared up, weren't a mystery for the only person who couldn't see the scene, she'd make her entrance.

[Catche Jagger]

The fishing boat was turning into one big Crab convention, now that Eric was coming along. Add to that he was also a killer, which left Gabriela wondering if Cuthner had arranged this through instructions to the other two, though such direct interference would be uncommon for a mentor. She simply give a nod in response to Eric's greeting.

Still, it was a good thing that they were all teammates, right? It meant that she could relax for a second when it wasn’t just her and Elliott. Hell, Matias even confirmed he wasn’t going for the ten, so there wasn’t even a matter of competition here.

But then Matias went and made a point about Elliott. Like, what the fuck did he think the deal was?

“Elliott’s with me, so you don’t need to worry about it. Alright?” She tried not to get too annoyed at the way the question was posed, the way it laid bare the way in which she remained divided from her own team.

Another bit of evidence that her decision was going to keep screwing her over. Gabriela just hoped Elliott wasn’t going to go and make a fucking show of himself.

She took a step to the side, getting in front of him a bit.

“And no, I haven’t seen her. It’s just been me and Elliott. Sorry.” She wasn’t particularly sorry, but now that Matias was going to be weird about Elliott, she needed to at least try to keep things calm.

Why did she have to play the fucking mature one here?

[RetroVenus]

Breathe in, breathe out.

Elliott-Blair returned the inhaler to it's place when another unknown boy ascended the ramp to the trawler. He looked to be around the same height of the boy Gabriela was talking to, though he carried much more weight. He must have ran all the here, judging from the sweat stain taking up most of his shirt.

He also held something in his hands. Something that sort of looked like a gun.

Elliott-Blair tensed, but then he saw a flash of orange on the heavyset boy. So he was Gabriela's teammate too.

As the boy greeted the group, Elliott-Blair put the first aid kit back in the daypack and stood up. He briefly glanced at the boy in the orange shirt, then to Gabriela, then to the heavyset boy.

There sure was a lot of orange on this boat.

Orange Shirt's answer to Gabriela's question was that he wanted a team win, which they could get by ganging up on someone from another team. He then looked straight at Elliott-Blair, who wore a teal bandana around his neck.

What the fuck's he doing here, indeed.

Fortunately, Orange Shirt changed the subject. Unfortunately, the subject was Ashanti. Elliott-Blair gave a slight frown. Oh, he knew who she was alright, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He'd rather have nothing to do with her, but it seemed she was yet another teammate of Gabriela's.

He was about to answer with a curt 'no idea' when Gabriela answered for him, first by defending his rather out-of-place presence on the ship, then by confirming that neither of them had seen Ashanti.

Come to think of it, neither Gabriela nor Orange Shirt seemed to like each other. Elliott-Blair looked at the heavyset boy again. If tensions between the two boiled over, maybe he could step in? Of course, he might just make things worse.

[Espi]

"No."

Eric had not seen Ashanti. He didn't know anything about her save that she wasn't a killer as of the last announcements, and therefore was probably not extremely relevant to him. Unless she was on Matias' team, and by extension his own, which would make her slightly more important.

'Elliott' was another matter. Given that Gabriela, a familiar face for once, was vouching for him, Eric could assume a couple of things. She trusted him a lot and they were friends enough to try to survive despite at least one of them likely perishing. Or she was using him. Having a gullible stooge as cannon fodder or as a last-ditch victim to push herself to 10 if that was her endgame was a reasonable tactic, if not the one Eric had chosen. She might also just be hopelessly delusional. He'd let it go for now.

As Eric cautiously centered himself near the edge of the boat by the ramp, he crossed his arms and scrutinized the others, still catching his breath. There were now a grand total of three Crabs on the boat. Eric supposed this was good. Better than three non-Crabs, certainly. That meant they were very low on the list of possible threats on his life since they gained nothing from killing him. Even if they were in competition for the 10 kills, well...that would be a problem, come to think of it.

So," he began, "what are you all planning on doing here exactly?" He looked between them. "If you're paying attention, we're all--mostly--on the same team, after all. That said, an actual team-up isn't in my plans."

[Maraoone]

Matias nodded at Gabriela as she explained herself.

"Cool," he said.

His eyes drifted from her, lingered on Elliott for a while.

"It's his funeral," he muttered under his breath.

Either his or hers, really. Or both, probably. Not like both of them could make it off this island together.

Fuckin' whatever. He'd deal with them later. His attention had been more focused on the thing Eric, the thing baseball cap boy said.

"Why not, ya too good for us?"

He fiddled with the pile of paper in his hands, fingers tense.

"I'm planning a fuckin' team-up is what I'm planning since y'all are here. Like, what part of simple math don't you get? We get together, don't kill each other since there's nothin' to be gained from doing so, watch out for each other even, and then we dominate every other person we come across till we all get to the end. Simple. Math."

Matias squinted down at his little paper boat, tugging aggressively at the crumpled sail in the middle. It tore, he cursed under his breath, crushed it in his hand, threw it down, got the next one from his bag. Looked back up at his audience.

"Ashanti's on our team too, for the record. No idea where she went if you guys haven't seen her, but she should be close by. So that'd make four- five of us, I guess, if Elliott's tagging along. What's to hate about that?"

[Brackie]

So her team really was out there.

And much like before, Matias was going to be her only line of communication.

Well, no time like the present.

Ashanti opened the doorway between the cabin and the deck, stepped out, and looked around.

They were all in the direction of where Leslie's body still lay. She took them all in, taking another look at Leslie's body for good measure. Yep, it sufficed.

She waved her hand. The universal sign for 'hello', and things would only get more confusing from there.

Ashanti looked back at Matias, and thought about how they parted last time. It wasn't good. But she could make it better.

[Catche Jagger]

Matias was suggesting some sort of team up involving the four of them and Ashanti, if she ever did happen to show up. It wasn’t much of a shock, considering his expressed goal of ganging up for a team win.

But Gabriela saw how Matias looked at Elliott and knew that shit was never going to work. Elliott’s presence would be an oddity in such a group and, considering his limited skillset, the others wouldn’t hesitate to cut him out of the equation once they needed it. Gabriela would always need to be watching her back, making sure none of them tried any funny shit.

It would also mean abandoning her plan of going for ten kills, which was the only path for any of this to work.

Luckily for her, Eric turned down the invitation preemptively, which made things a little easier, since it reduced the chances of this crap getting too heated. Matias’s idea for a Crabs team up was stillborn and it wasn’t her fault.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for some big group right now. I’m doing fine with just me and Elliott. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” Her tone was even as she could manage. Matias was clearly angling to be as much of an dick about this as he could manage and Gabriela had no interest in getting in some asshole contest with her teammate.

“Actually, we should probably get going. Business to deal with.” She continued as Ashanti appeared from somewhere else. Gabriela glanced over at the girl, but didn’t return the wave.

“Come on, Elliott.”

And with that, she turned to leave, though as she put distance between herself and her teammates, Gabriela couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder.

((Gabriela continued elsewhere…))

[RetroVenus]

Orange Shirt absently nodded along with what Gabriela was saying, but he was still watching Elliott-Blair with a look of skepticism.

Elliott-Blair turned back to the boy, shifting his weight onto his other leg. In this sea of orange, his teal bandana was going to cause problems. It's not as if he had anything to bring to the table; he had his spyglass, sure, but there was nothing stopping the others from snatching it from him and using it themselves. Then what good was he for?

Of course, there was a much larger issue at hand. Should he and Gabriela decide to join this esprit de corps, then there would be less opportunities for Gabriela to gain ten kills, if any. Not to mentioned they'd have to follow along with Orange Shirt's plan. She gets to go home, he gets left behind.

That would not do.

The heavyset boy spoke up, but instead of easing the building tension like Elliott-Blair had hoped for, he declared that he wasn't looking for a team up. This only served to agitate Orange Shirt more as he crumpled up the disfigured paper boat in his hands. Why was he making them, anyway?

Gabriela seemed to realize that such a camaraderie would create more issues than solve, for she told Orange Shirt that she didn't want to join his group and that she and Elliott were just leaving, in fact.

As she said that, yet another orange bandana wearing figure emerged on the boat. But this time Elliott-Blair recognized who it was.

Ashanti. Of course.

He made the motion to leave, but something made him linger a moment longer. He didn't like her, that was for certain, but was it enough to wish for her death? He didn't like Oliver either, and now he was dead. And so was Cassini, and Ivan, and Calla, and Carol Carol carol—

Elliott-Blair hovered in place. Fuck, was he supposed to say something to her? Maybe he should apologize; it was a petty feud after all, at least here in this God forsaken place.

But his name was called, and away he went.

((Elliott-Blair continued in There’s a Fire in the Sky That Only I Can See))

[Espi]

Hmph.

"Well if you're bringing math into this," Eric began, crossing his arms. "adding a bunch of zeros in gives me nothing." He looking around with a shrug. "Maybe you're helpful, maybe not. But I'm not going to rely on people I don't know are reliable, which means acting by myself."

Even with four teammates--Elliott didn't count--Eric was not convinced. His tactics were reliant on going unnoticed, and the more people he was with, the less risk he took. "Besides, I lose nothing from any of you, but I don't get anything either with my current plan. If I win with the kill release and you all make it to the end, works for me. I just want out. Now if--if--that doesn't pan out for me, we can talk."

Eric rubbed his chin a couple of times.

"I don't give a shit about this show. I just want to go home and forget this ever happened. Whatever I need to do, I'll do it. Now I don't know that much about this stupid thing, but historically, sticking with your team doesn't win you the game. Killing ten people? Worked every time so far. And I've gotten two down already."

Eric cocked his head a little at Matias. "So unless you have a way of ensuring that get out of here, I'm taking the best bet I know. If the situation changes, my plan can change, but not before then."

[Maraoone]

"Fuckin' idiots," Matias muttered.

Gabby and Elliott just. Walked off. Didn't even give him the chance to fuckin' explain. He could've figured out a way to keep Elliott useful if Gabby were so insistent on him staying around. He could've made all the accommodations in the world but she didn't even hear him out. She left.

The next ship crumpled in his fist. He felt it, relaxed his grip, breathed deep. Let the chills run through his shoulder. Closed his eyes.

Opened them. Looked at the last little fucker who felt he was too fucking good for all of them.

"Look. Listen to me. Fuckin' listen," he said through gritted teeth. "We have eleven teammates on this ship, alright? Eleven, and all eleven of them are fucking alive."

He finished uncrumpling the next ship, laid it down, held up his hands.

"We have you, me, Ashanti." Pointer, middle, ring finger on his left hand raised.

"Fucking... that bitch, Gabby, the one who just left. We can get her to come back." Left pinky.

"Anthony." Bitter taste in his mouth, Left thumb.

"Marion, Mateo, Lark." Right pointer, middle, ring finger.

"Gregory aaaand Rebecca." Right pinky, right thumb.

"Also Junji but I'd rather not.

"Eleven allies! Eleven fuckin' people on this fuckin' island-ship thing! Like, fuck off with that whole 'teams never worked' bullshit, it's because no one ever fucking tried! They never tried! And it's not just some ragtag group of five runts now, it's eleven of us. And you wanna know how I know that?"

He opened the bag, jerked the binder from it.

"I have this. I have information. All the information you could ever want on teams, weapons, your biographies, I have it here. So, if you wanna- if you wanna play at being the next Karen or Jewel - and trust me dude you sure as fuck don't look like one - then be my guest. But you won't have info, you won't have allies, people who can actually watch your fuckin' back and, maybe, I don't know, help you get the ten, and all your bad-ass rogue solo whatever the fuck you're trying to go for won't be shit in the face of whichever other team gangs up and finds you."

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

"What I'm tryna say is, we're your best bet. If the whole ten thing doesn't work out for you, then you probably won't even live to regret it, bro. But we can help prevent that."

Once his spiel finished, he finally turned his head towards the girl peering in from the doorway.

He'd seen Ashanti the entire time. As soon as she stepped in.

She'd waved at him all cute-like, as if she hadn't told him the night prior his friend's life was worthless.

His eyes fixed on hers for a moment. Glared.

"Fuck me," he said under his breath.

He needed all hands on deck.

"Looks like our friend over here's arrived, by the way. Has something to say too. Lost her voice so I'll have to translate."

He nodded at her. Signed, "WHAT - YOU - WANT?"