What can I fix you with?

[Namira]

((Continued from Bro, I'm stoked you're here man!))

"Anyway, Fifty-Eight dies on its ass without the escape and that's what's interesting about it. Take Ashley out of that last scene and nothing happens at all. S'whole lot of—y'don't really see the cinematography in the moment but you gotta think about how many cameras're around the place and that's six different angles for every shot, and different audio levels, everything. You splice that all together and you get something that's tense as shit, an' it don't work without just one extra person in there, doing her thing.

"An' now they're gonna be looking at and listening to this conversation about the thing they're already doing, which loops back round, and round. Get some recursion going.

"Assuming they put this into broadcast anyhow, which y'know, interesting topic too. Buncha folks running around yelling about this good scene or that good scene. I hear they've got whole watch teams running through everything just to pick out what they're rolling with televising on the different channels. You'd be surprised what kind of weirdness and fun shit, you can dig up if you go looking. Spent a lot of time goin' through side reels to work on Abridged.

"There's wholeass fan cuts of some seasons built up from shit you mostly never even saw. Lotta things you can do with some editing."

She flashed a thumbs up at the camera mounted on the inside of the main restaurant door. Figured that one probably got the most play, anytime the feeds jumped to this spot.

"Fifty-Eight is pretty whatever as a season. One of those you can pick the escape cut and not miss nothing that matters."

Stokes was running on and she didn't know whether Chris was listening or cared, but there wasn't shit to do and it was a bad time for her to be sitting thinking. Second announcement was this morning, thirteen something hours ago, and she still kept sinking back into it each time she stopped for a second—fuck. Again.

She yawned, long, loud, overplayed.

Shop was about as good as they could make it for now and it was still just the two of them. Gus was gone, Matteo prolly wasn't gonna be a repeat customer at this rate. Needed some heads or needed to think more seriously about risking scavenging. Least they'd been okay in here so far. Wasn't working perfect but alive for the third announcement? Good enough.

"Over under on any customers? Whatcha think?"

[Irina Ivanov]

((Chris Tyrell continued from Bro, I'm stoked you're here man!))

Shut the fuck up.

It was rich of Chris to think, let alone say, but after listening to Stokes nerd-dump on him for a good last 20 minutes at the very least (He didn't have a watch, so it was probably 20 minutes, give or take an hour.) was enough to make him nearly say it. Who was he kidding. He hadn't said a word while tending the store after bloody Junji left, simply sat uncomfortably. Thinking. He shouldn't, but he did.

One reason was that he was doing the angsty thing that angsty teens did and gave his dripping tar-stained thoughts a platform to do a soap box sadie on. Another was petty. One of the most pettiest things he'd done and will do, and that is to bore the hell out of the audience.

Pretty strange coming from a spotlight-stealing theatre kid. But he didn't want to give any....look, Chris didn't know what people watched SOTF. He didn't know what dumbass wanted to watch Fisk beat Mr Casanova to death, or wanted to write slash between goth kids.

The new of the camera was unbearable. Chris couldn't stand it, and just about visibly cringed when Stokes freaking thumbs it up. Well, Chris would rather he thumbs'ed up the camera's ass. It watched him, like those overprotective parents that everyone else seemed to have (Make your own food, people. You're not six anymore!). Chris looked at his...

(Every time. Every, single, freaking time he looked at it, he couldn't stop himself from snorting and giggling. It was funny okay! It was...)

Bloody fan-service costume. With a white shirt - because he didn't want to accidentally promote indecency in teenagers - over the suspenders. Chris glared, although it looked more like a stare, at the camera, and his hand almost began unconsciously crawling towards the white shirt. Standing up slowly, Chris had devised a perfect crime of murdering a single eye of a few million people. Snuff it out like a candle. Poke out one. It didn't really matter, did it? Vasily seemed fine with one eye, so it should be fine. Shouldn't it?

Hah! Hahaha! It wasn't even an actual eye, Chris, imagining losing a head for an eye, not a fair trade isn't it?! Chris's hand that had been reaching for the smothering shirt slammed hard on the desk erratically. An abrupt kill-switch.

"Well, we're losing more and more people to bet on, so it's a teeny bit of a stupid idea to bet an over, isn't it? I'll predict about 4.5. Wait wait wait, does a guy carrying a soon-to-be corpse, or corpse, count as one or two?"

He forced the quick and curt words out, a desperate attempt to NOT seem like he was not okay. Which, he was by the way, he was perfectly okay, confident and happy as can be!

He sometimes wondered if Stokes regretted hiring him.

[Applesintime]

((Gregory Miller continued from TOTES COOL AND ALL THOSE JAMS! WITH BEAU AND HANNAH!))

God fucking damn it, he was two days in. Two days in, and he hadn't even got a kill yet! He had been close, so goddamn close, with Cory and Leah and Boh, but something fucked up every time. He slipped on something, Leah kinda fucked him up in turn, and Boh? God just decided that the Sonic hair asshole was gonna live today. He hadn't been on the announcements, Leah hadn't been on the announcements, and to be frank, he was kinda pissed off and he just wanted to kill someone. Anyone! At this rate, the only place he'd be was some kinda 'Top Ten Funny Moments of 67' montage, instead of the kill montages or anything actually cool and decent.

He had been walking the whole day, and he was tired and just wanted to like, sit down somewhere and ruminate about how he, Gregory Miller, could have done literally anything better. He shoulda just busted down that door and beat Nate to death, and then killed Cory. Two kills, and he'd be flying in the leaderboads. But he had tried to play like he was some commander in Total War, leading his troops into battle. But his troops consisted of an asshole and an apathetic asshole, and you couldn't exactly kill someone with a fish. Man, fuck 'em! Didn't matter. He was gonna get a kill tonight, he just knew it.

His wandering brought him to the floating restaurant. The bright lights, the fancy architecture and the fact that he hadn't been there before drew him in. Maybe there'd be people to kill there. Maybe there'd be some like, cool food to eat there. Chinese food! Man, Sammy would sometimes get takeout after a long day of removing hives for people, and they'd sit in the living room, watch SOTF and chow down on chow mein or sweet and sour chicken. Man, when he got out of here, the first thing he was gonna get was a chicken chow mein.

Pushing open the gilded doors, with depictions of dragons in gold and a bunch of other fancy stuff that he didn't recognise, Gregory took a few steps in, and was immediately confronted with two people. He didn't recognise them either but they were like, kind of in the year above him he thinks? Man, everyone here was a senior. It woulda been cool if a few of his friends got taken, but they were probably just gonna die.

"Uh... Hey!" His momentary confusion turned into a smile, and he stepped further into the restaurant. There were a bunch of tables flipped over, forming some kinda barricade - no, a bigger table. And there was food and knives and pots and pans and all that shit displayed on the tables. What the fuck were they doing? Was this some kinda weird gambit where they'd just like, take his shit after killing, lure people in, gank them and display their shit, repeat?

"Man, the fuck are you guys doing?" He didn't mean to sound so confused, but how was he not supposed to be confused when they were like, doing whatever the hell they were doing? Man, this was weird. Were they wanting to be like, boring TV that nobody ever watched in a million years? Just sitting around with their thumbs up their butts?

[Namira]

Figured it took a direct question to finally unbrick Junior's wall, but Stokes wasn't expecting the bricks to crumble that way. Stand up, slap down the table, p much fixed on the camera the whole while. Maybe pulling his attention to it was a bad idea.

He responded at least after that bit of whatever it was, so thankfully guy wasn't cement just yet. Stokes took a sec of just looking at Chris, picking through rubble—k she'd tortured this metaphor to death so graphically it'd fit with a SOTF gore compilation—Stokes took a sec of just looking at Junior, trying to figure out what was ticking. How mad was too mad?

The sec lasted long enough that Stokes lost or won the bet, cause someone walked right in. Junior, again. C'mon, quit trying to walk all over the territory, there was only one Junior for her. Get here first or don't get a nickname. New guy was on the short side. This did zero to help Stokes work out if she should be concerned. Least he'd asked questions first? Hopefully not to shoot later.

"S'a store. We're trading. Supplies, info. Got a few weapons too.

"Need anything?"

[Irina Ivanov]

As soon as Gregory walked in, of course, Chris did the perfectly normal thing that was sitting down, and getting his job done with. That's what you do in life, and that thing that happened before? It never happened. Because life doesn't have bullshit cameras, and a promise of survival at the cost of killing others and....

"Hey, Gregory!"

The greeting was chirpy, one note. Chris tried to conduct his train of thoughts to the beat of the words, but he had a feeling that the train had already derailed, killing the conductor inside. Oh well. It'll run anyways. Gregory, well, he was from the gardening club, so Chris didn't know a lot about him. He thought it was a little feminine, and quite frankly Gregory looked the sort to be in that sort of club as well. Take soccer or something jeez.

But hey, from what he remembered, Chris thought the bee boy was a nice guy, and surely, the honey giving gardener couldn't change that much in a few days, come on.

"Do you need glasses, or do we need an even more obvious sign, Greg?" Make a joke. Smile. That isn't a smile, Chris, that looks like a hyena baring teeth.

"Anyways, we're running an all-for-profit organization also known as the Survival of the Richest. Where with the power of connections and material items you've taken from people you stepped on, you too can get yourself a fresh pair of clothes, or a proper meal with plates to return you to civilization!"

(Perfect TV host impression. You've done something right today, Chris. No wait, what do you mean? You're doing everything right-)

Chris would have done more then to try and subtly get rid of his fanservice clothes that were a blight to his eyes. But hey, the lack of weapons asides from forks, or anything that was unique, made the advertisement a little hard to think up of and work with. And Mateo's probably just trying to sleep in to stall paying up.

[MurderWeasel]

A voice whispers quietly from Chris' collar.
"Just so you know, your new friend here has played nice to get close to two of your teammates, then attacked them. I'm not saying people can't change, but this was, oh, a couple hours ago. I'm not saying you have to tell him to buzz off, but do be careful."

[Applesintime]

A shop. A shop. In Survival of the Fittest. Where the fuck did they think they were, some kinda like, roleplaying game? Barter and sell? It was so fucking stupid, so fucking ballsy, that Gregory decided there and then that he wasn't going to kill them because come on, this was like, the first time someone had tried something just this dumb. And he wasn't going to break it up, because, man, if he was on the other side of the screen he'd get pissed that they got broken up this early, because it would be hilarious to see them get DZed and like, run to gather up their spoons and forks and plates all while their collars beeped at them, as if to alert everyone around them that yep, these people were fucking idiots.

"A shop. OK. Not, uh, the sorta thing I would be doing in SOTF and all that, but, uh, you guys do you I guess." Sticking his hands in his pockets, Gregory looked around the place. Without all the tables and stuff, which he assumed had been stacked up to form that kinda table place thing Stokes was standing behind, it was actually pretty spacious. Up against the back wall there were a few chairs and tables and stuff, there was some stuff blocking access to another room, which was probably like, a kitchen because there was a bunch of cans and butter knives and shit on the counter thing. He had to respect the idea at least, because it was new and original, and they actually had done a lot of work defending this place, but there was one thing that would stop them.

A DZ.

"So, uh, whatcha guys gonna do when this place gets DZed? Because, like, no offense to you guys but a bunch of people sitting around trading food and clothes and stuff doesn't really make for good TV. Like, this is cool and all, the whole barter system, but the producers are gonna decide that hey, y'all are boring, so they'll throw you out into the flotilla to die. You guys don't have a washing machine or like, detergent or anything, do you? My good shirt's all bloody." He needed to check in on the cruise ship in the morning. They had to have like, some kinda place for washing clothes somewhere, otherwise how would they wash all the clothes and stuff of the guests?

The SOTF Monopoly board back in the shop boat popped into his head. Hell, he could gather a bunch of stuff from there, and like, bring it back, replace some of his shitty gluten-free bread with canned vegetables and peaches and stuff, and he could eat better than shitty bread and dried squid. But not right now, 'cause it was night, and with the cruise ship locked up, a buncha people would be coming out and preying on all the people who were out of there and into the flotilla. And he could totally do that! He could, like, get a kill to his name, maybe throw their bag over to these guys in exchange for better food as well. It was like, a win-win! They got shit to sell, Gregory got kills to his name, everyone won. Except the guys he killed.

Leaning against a pillar, Gregory dreamed about what he could do to get some like, credit to his name. Most of it was just killing people.

[Namira]

For someone acting so moody, Junior really was snappy with those pitches, huh? Survival of the richest. Stokes kinda wished she'd thought of that, but eh, was her thing in the first place, no point getting fixed on the credit. Maybe her telling it straight and him dressing it up was the way to go.

New guy Greg backhanded the store and then asked the question Stokes really hadn't wanted anyone to ask. She fiddled with a strap of her top.

Ugh. Urrrrgh.

So there were reasons, like, p good show theory reasons why Stokes figured they prolly wouldn't DZ the store. She just really, really didn't want to say, cause if she said the reasons, that was open invitation for an exec someplace to get a bug up their ass about a contestant thinking she knew more about the game than they did, and DZing the spot out of spite.

Instead of explaining, she just shrugged.

"Eh. We're not the Herd. Should be okay for now."

He'd moved right on after that first comment, so Stokes hastened to do the same, wanting to get off the topic.

"Uhhh I think-yeah, yeah, we got that. Detergent? Yeah. Think for the dishcloths or whatever."

[Lilith]

Pippi wanted to go to the Shop Boat, but instead she actually found the shopping boat.
She bit her lips.

She just wanted to scout the Shop Boat first, spy from it from a distance, ya' know?
The issue with spying, however, is that you needed to make sure you weren't being spied first.
But Pippi had never learned to not draw the attention of others. Kinda' a perk, kinda' a con.
She glided toward the Floating Restaurant, moving through the kitchen.

There had to be supplies here.
It reminded her how hungry she was.
How thirsty.
How much she wanted to eat like there was nothing left.

She shook her bag.
The untouched food and water rations slushing together.
Pippi bit her lips. Someone could make more use of it once she died.
Or escape. Preferably the latter.

But she knew she couldn't outrun fate. She knew one day it'd catch up.
Until then, she would call out and scream.
"'ey?" Her mouth was pasty. "Hello Chris. Gregory." She nodded. "Stokes."
She waved her hand around.

"So..."
"Is this like a... trading center?"

[Espi]

((Kaya Robinson continued from Excellent Choice))

It had taken a while for Kaya and Bethan to give the other two the slip, but now, it was just the two of them. The RocketBoat had been a Danger Zone, so they'd decided to go somewhere else. The floating restaurant was the next most fun-sounding place, so that was where they found themselves now.

The two walked into the restaurant side by side, Kaya's hands at the corners of her coat, her gun stowed safely inside. As she entered, Kaya looked around and flashed a grin at Stokes.

"Hey, Stokes! You havin' fun in here? Got a nice little setup going on." Kaya reached over and patted Bethan comfortably. "Mind if we hang for a little bit? Might shop around, might just catch our breath for a bit. That cool with you?"

[Irina Ivanov]

Gregory likely noticed the exact moment that Chris got a whisper of advice from Jewel. In fact, the entire area probably did. There wasn't much way to get driven out of the spotlight when you make a face like you got bucketed down in cold crap like something out of Stephan's King Carrie. Or when you make laugh nervously and ran off and slam the door to the nearest room with a door. (Which was in this case, the kitchen.)

Honestly, Chris wasn't like avoiding talking to people or anything, god no! What, did he have some sorta stupid fear like agoraphobia? Was he weak? No, because he wasn't weak, and he was going to come back out. He was going to come back out now. When he counts down from 10. Open the door. Right, now. Three, two, one....ugh.

Look, look at this, when you just want a peaceful, awesome area where there is NO death, no murder, none of that stupid show stuff or any reminders of it, last thing you want is to get a reminder by a serial killer emo. Or goth. Same thing. 'Oh hey, this guy is a snake who wants to pull a backstab on you, now just act completely normal!'

"Oh, okay. Hey, may I ask a favour from you then? Thanks for the advice but how about you buzz off?"

And that was about the only thing Chris wanted to ever say to the muffled voice under his bandanna. He took a deep breath, and with that, he washed his hands of the matter, and went back outside.

God, he sweared he was in the kitchen for like, 1 minute? Now everyone and their dads seem to be going to SOTF Walmart.

"Sorry, Stokes. I uh, just needed to go to the bathroom. Seems you sorted it out anyways."

Does going to the bathroom drain you of all your energy? Hopefully not, but for Chris, acting and lying definitely did. Looking around, Chris saw some built chick and cyber chick come in, and Watermelon 'Wendy' Edgeworth. God Chris will never get how high some people were to name their kid that. Honestly, Pippi seemed like a bit of a stoner herself, floating up, up, and beyond normalcy, but a pretty intelligent one. Like god, imagine getting invited into a university, once Chris gets out, he will definitely work extra hard to catch up!

"Yup, get none of your heart's true desires, for the right amount of currency. We haven't advanced far enough in SOTF society to accept currency by the way, so we'll take anything right now.

A rapid-fire pitch, as expected from Chris, he sat back down on the chair he pulled up behind the counter,

"What would you like, Pippi? We're just opening shop now so rations are still in hot, hot, supply, and they're going fast!"

One of his hands supported his chin, the other shook half a foot-long of the world's most disgusting sandwich in around playfully with a smirk. Hey look, one man's rubbish might be everyone else's feast, and he had a feeling most people would even take subway at this point.

[Applesintime]

Aw fuck. Gregory had been about to respond to Stokes, ask if maybe he could like, give them some of that alcohol or whatever in exchange for some, but then suddenly a horde of people came through and in all the talking about money and food Gregory was kind of forgotten, which was fine with him because in hindsight he wanted to keep his alcohol, and there might be some detergent on the cruise ship. Still, more people, more chance that someone would be shot or killed or the room would descend into a gunfight and like, half the people would be dead when it all stopped. Or someone would do a Vahka and just toss a grenade into the room. Would a grenade sink the ship, or would it like, just blow up the inside? Hopefully he never found out because, man, something as impersonal as a grenade would be sucky.

Moving closer to the kind of shop counter that Stokes was standing behind, Gregory took his hands out of his pockets, drumming them on the counter. It was a good move, because it showed that he wasn't just gonna pull a knife on her and gut her in the middle of the room, and also he was antsy because like, six people, one room, a shop filled with stuff? It was gonna be like, a shitshow real soon, and it would be a good idea to get the fuck out as soon as he could.

"Hey, uh, I remember back in the shop boat there was a bunch of stuff! Like, there was a SOTF Monopoly board and a lot of clothes and like, merchandise and all that stuff, you know? Would that be like, something you're interested in? Cause, like, the shirts were like, a bunch of sizes, and the Monopoly board could help you and that other guy pass the time, y'know? And it's like, a fair trade right?" Assuming Stokes didn't kill him and take his shit, but they had a lotta chances to do that and they didn't, so that was probably a good sign. And he wasn't gonna kill them, because man, this was a really fucking fun concept even if they were gonna get DZed and have to run.

Coincidentally, he had also positioned himself in a way that he had a clear route to the exit, just in case someone pulled and started shooting.

[Pippi]

((Bethan Gayle continued from Excellent Choice))

Bethan still didn’t understand why they were at the floating restaurant.

Honestly, her head had just been a mass of turbulent confusion for the past… fifteen minutes? Maybe thirty? Maybe longer? She didn’t know, it felt like her and Kaya had been walking for ages ever since they’d left the RocketBoat, and Bethan still didn’t understand why they’d been walking at all.

Or, more importantly, why it had just been the two of them walking this way.

The RocketBoat had been marked a ‘Danger Zone’, she understood that much at least. A no-go zone for, like, a day, and anyone who went in there would soon find their collar ready to pop; at least, that was the story being peddled to the audience. What was much more likely was that it gave all the eliminated contestants a place to rest for a little while, and the production team a chance to do some admin work, and Bethan wasn’t about to ruin the facade by sticking around longer than she’d been requested!

But as soon as the first telltale beeps sounded out from her collar, Kaya had grabbed her wrist - firmly, but not painfully so - and pulled her away, gathering speed as her jog turned into a run. Bethan had followed after her, legs working automatically in order to keep up, head in too much of a spin to ask what was going on, and by the time they returned to walking pace, Emmett and Amanda were nowhere to be seen.

She’d tried to ask what was happening, why they had left the other two behind, why they weren’t stopping to wait for them to catch up and regroup, but Kaya had seemed far too focused on just getting somewhere to answer her questions.

So. Here they were! At the restaurant! Bethan wasn’t really a super huge fan of Chinese food, she’d just never really gotten a taste for it, spending her formative years cooking and eating rice and beans, and lamb cawl, but the whole place looked really nice at least! And… gosh, there were a lot of people here, huh? Stokes and Pippi and... George and Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistian? She wasn’t 100% on the two guys, hopefully someone would give their actual names at some point, and they were all kinda… standing around a bunch of tables? Well, actually, Stoke and Boy-C were kinda standing behind the tables! Which all had stuff laying all over them, pots and pans and other kitchen equipment, like they’d just raided the kitchens and decided to display everything like some kinda yard sale?

This really, really wasn’t helping her confusion one bit.

She shuffled closer to Kaya, feeling the back of her hand brush against the other girl’s, a little spark of security jolting between the two. She let Kaya talk for a while, letting her introduce them both, share some small talk with Stokes, before she piped up.

“Um, hey…”

Her voice was squeaky, almost instantly lost in the crowd of people, and she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed. This was… this was…

Fine. This was fine! It was weird, it was confusing, but it was fine! Kaya had a reason for dragging her away from Emmett and Amanda, of course. Maybe she’d been so concerned with getting away from the danger zone that she hadn’t even realised they’d all split up. Oooh, or maybe she figured there would be way more entertainment value if they divided into two groups for now! Either way, she’d find out in a little while. And until then… no need to panic. No need to be scared. She was a Buccaneer, after all!

“I’m a Buccaneer!”

Oh, she’d… said that out loud, hadn’t she? And back in her usual chipper tone as well! She gave a little embarrassed giggle, face flushing up slightly, but she gave a massive grin to the restaurant at large, putting the hand not wrapped around the polearm on her hip.

“Oh, well, actually, we’re BOTH Buccaneers! We’re looking for the rest of our crew! That and plunder and, um, booty, and stuff! We’re the bravest sailors of the seven seas, and we’re not gonna back down for nothing!”

Well, she’d already started, hadn’t she? Might as well go with the flow!

[Namira]

Holy fuck. People?

Okay that was a thing. Several. She wasn't gonna complain but this was a lot all at once like should she be trying to get them all to wait in line or something?

All right. All right. Game face. Stokes could handle a small crowd. It was a chance to make this shit work, grow the buy-in to the point that this whole deal started doing what it was supposed to be doing the whole time.

One step, then the next, then the next. You got this.

Pippi: junior was fielding that, done, all good, ignore how he was continuing to act squiggly cause try and do something with that now and the whole house of cards would crash down. Save the jokers for afterwards.

Kaya: couldn't go wrong with a nod, right?

"S'cool to hang, just keep it behind the counter." Nobody was just waltzing up behind the barrier in here. Open that up and they straight didn't have the trade post anymore, turned into a base, worse, turned social. This relied on having the separation, draw up that line in people's heads between contestant and resource.

Twonior Greg over there: couldn't go wrong with a shake of the head, right?"

"Naw, dude. S'gotta be worth utility. Keep people going out in the game. Too early to need shirts for bandages or whatever. Maybe if there's some actual supplies over there."

Bethan: okay so team stuff. Little awkward right now cause y'know, wrong teams. Buut. But but but. Those colours. Stokes actually had info. She could do something with that. Stokes held up a finger to Twonior one sec, addressed Bethan.

"Hey I got some details about your team. Maybe we can cut a deal."

[Lilith]

The store started to grow crowded,
(when did she start calling it that?)
and Pippi felt immensively viewed.
Like the world had opened a window above her,
and people were peering through it, trying to reach her.
Something about a fate being changed,
something about her life being broadcasted:
it was always the same thing, really.

Her head twisted toward Kaya and Bethan.
Bethan dressed like her. And now, they were sharing their team.
It felt like a ploy. Something else to add up. The producers probably laughed at her raised eyebrow.
Kaya was normal. Well, as normal as one could be wearing a Karen shirt.
It felt like something a school shooter would wear. Her stomach churned.
The hunger pans came back, powering through her limbs. Instead of whining, she smiled.

"Hey." She pointed her collar. The bandana wrapped around it as a tool to hide what she was doing could give them a clue. "Same team."
Pippi pointed behind her, still smiling. "Could we talk outside? You know, team stuff."
Her smile went away. "It won't take long."
Her head cracked back toward Chris.

"Do the ovens work?"
(How did she know if they were there? Were there even ovens?)
"...just wondering about something."