If you're not rising, you're slipping down the rungs

[Applesintime]

((Anthony Golden continued from this leaves me quite discheesed))

He was furious. Absolutely furious. How dare she? How fucking dare she? Saying she was anti-SOTF, but then bam! She's working with a bunch of fucking players and acting as if that's somehow a way to be anti-SOTF! Oh yes Giselle, just fucking do what they want you to! This is a really, really, good way to resist against the executives, by doing what they fucking want you to! Hell, there was probably shitty fanfiction being written of the two of them as he fucking angrily ranted inside his head! God, he hated this fucking country so much.

"Hey, Fillmore family! Go fuck yourselves, you bunch of murder-peddling twats!" Deep down, he knew he didn't mean this. He was just angry, hurt. She had threatened him. This is what this show did to people. It turns them into their primal form; animalistic, untrusting, ready to murder on the turn of a dime. Friendships were severed just as quickly as the cords tangling people to life, alliances were forged and discarded over and over until one person remained, soaked in the remains of their friendships and their friends. And it had been going on for 67 seasons. How many, he wondered? How many people had died because of the appeal of the American public for more bloodshed, more death, more drama? It had to be at least a thousand. One thousand kids his age, thrown into wherever and left to maim and mutilate one another.

Disgusting.

As he thought to himself, his feet carried him to wherever they wanted to. Which, in this case, was the outside of a boat. Gaudily painted in vibrant colours that would give you a headache if you looked at it and SOTF logos slapped all over. It was like God was mocking him. But it would do. There wasn't anyone else around, and he had a space to get changed. The water and the wind damned, he was going to get out of here.

So, he entered, tried to find a spot that was overlooked by cameras and changed into his swimming trunks, making sure to cover his collar camera with one hand as he tugged them on. He didn't even know if anyone would wanna see this - there was probably death and violence and bloodshed all around, go focus on that instead of some kid changing. It was cold as fuck, but he ignored it. A few minutes of discomfort for what was hopefully, a lifetime of freedom from this show. Exiting the boat, he located a part of the jetty that looked sturdy enough. Gripping it tightly, he turned himself around and slowly, cautiously, entered the water. The cold immediately hit him, and his mind yelled at him to get out of the water and warm up, but he was gonna ignore that. He had a plan. Slowly submerging himself, he waited until he was up to his neck, the collar submerged in chilly water.

And he waited.

[Rattlesnake]

A slightly muffled voice sounds from just beneath the surface of the water.

"Hey, hey, hey! Yeah, this thing's still working. So uhh, I admire the initiative here but it looks like your collar designed for use in a wet environment is still operational after being exposed to wetness! Funny thing, I actually watched Jewel watch a kid swim around for like an hour earlier today. I think a producer came in and started watching me at some point, which was kind of a magical moment."

[Applesintime]

He had been in the water for a few minutes when all of a sudden, a voice spoke up from his collar. HIs mentor, by the sound of it. Ben Cuther or some shit, the winner of Season 58. Normally, Anthony would not accept help from someone who had commited three acts of murder. But right now, he actually needed some advice.

Pulling himself out of the water and rushing into the shop boat, he pulled his towel out of his bag and wrapped it around him, enjoying the warmth and the softness. He needed to get his clothes back on, but for now he just needed to warm up. It wouldn't do to get his favourite shirt wet. It wouldn't do to catch a cold, either, but funnily enough Anthony wasn't actually too focused on that at the moment.

"My mentor finally speaks. Couldn't have given me a heads up that I was walking right into the lion's den, could you?" He sighs. "Doesn't actually matter. Look, I actually need your help. If I don't get some kind of weapon or whatever, then I am probably gonna die. Seeing as I'm not up for murdering someone for their weapon, and knowing that I'd probably end up dying if I did that, do you have any ideas for an improvised weapon? Something that I can use as a distraction."

"...And, uh, can you tell me who won the last football match between Tottenham Hotspurs and Chelsea?"

[Rattlesnake]

"Gimme a sec for that last one, then.

...

"Chelsea 1-0. They don't really score a lot, do they?

"Anyways, your teammates are armed - some of them - and even if they're not, companionship is the best weapon you can find. That won't save you forever I can tell you that for certain. But if you're trying to buy time, you don't gotta outrun the bear, just gotta outrun the other guy, you know? Find a friend, and til then just pry off whatever you think you can swing hard enough. Doesn't gotta look intimidating. In fact, if it just looks functional that's probably better because anyone in the mindset is gonna see that and think twice about you could do to them instead.

[Applesintime]

"FUCK!" Today was the worst day of his life. First, he gets kidnapped by a bunch of thugs with assault rifles, tossed into a van and gassed. Second, he wakes up to learn he's been put in the worst fucking show in existence, one that would probably end with him being murdered in some brutal way. Third, he gets kicked in the balls by someone who did a lot of sports and is pu on the floor for about ten minutes, while trying to get a crossbow they stole. Fourth, he finds out that his best friend, someone who he thought was like him, hating this game, was actually more willing to play this game than he thought and even tried to persuade him to play.

And last but not least, Spurs got fucking beaten by Abramovich's Arseholes? The horror caused him to loudly shout, not caring who heard him. Today was a fucking terrible day. Well, it could have been worse.

"Fuck. Fucking Chelsea cunts." Anthony muttered to himself, getting himself toweled off as he shivered. Christ, that was probably a stupid idea. He should have done it in the swimming pool. Waited for the Respects to head out, then sneak in and do it that way. At least then, the water would be warm. Of course, that meant the public would get a better look at his nearly-naked body, leering at him. Fucking arseholes. He was huddled up behind a counter at the moment, as it blocked the cameras from seeing him and his private. The collar, of course, was a problem, but nothing stopped him from blocking the view with a hand. Changing quickly, he looked at the wet towel. He didn't want to carry it out in his bag, because then everything in his bag would be wet and that would be a problem. So instead, he just left it neatly folded on the counter, next to a dusty cash register.

Now, a weapon. Pry off whatever you think you can swing hard enough... He couldn't use the cash registers, they were too heavy to carry for any length of time. The metal shelfing, although sturdy, didn't have any parts he could pull off them to use as a weapon, and well, the cheap trinkets and merchandise on them weren't sturdy at all.

"Right, uh, I have no idea..." Anthony began as he started to step off the shop boat, hearing the wooden planking of the jetty creaking underfoot.

Pry it off.

Of course.

Kneeling down, he started to pull at one of the planks, grunting in exertion as he tried to rip it off the jetty and add it to his arsenal. These planks were newer, shinier, less worn down by the ravages of time and usage by feet trampling upon them than the ones in the outer sides of this arena, but if you pulled hard enough, exerted enough pressure, it would just rip right off with a cracking noise. LIke so. Anthony flipped the wood around in his hand, examining both sides before he spoke. There were still a few nails sticking out of one end that looked like they would do some damage if he smacked someone with that end.

"Right, never mind. I've got something now. Little unwieldy, but y'know what? I think it'll work if I gotta batter some bloody arsehole."

This game, everyone else opposing him and trying to kill him was Goliath, and he, wielding nothing but a shitty plank of wood and some nails sticking out of it, was David.

[Rattlesnake]

"Now, I can't say much more for today, and I can't tell you where to go looking for teammates, but what I can tell you is that I'd turn right around if I came across you while trying to make a name for myself off someone else's misfortune. That's another thing I can say from experience.

"Stay sharp, keep your head up, and we'll talk again tomorrow if this thing's still working by then."

[Applesintime]

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Ben." There wasn't any response from his collar, so their allotted time was probably up. Letting out a sigh, Anthony glanced down at the plank. It was unwieldy and it would probably tire him out pretty quick if he swung it too much, but it was better than his fists. Holding it tightly in both hands, he gave it a few test swings. It was heavy, but that was both good and bad. He'd break something if he hit someone with it, but he'd tire out quickly. Maybe he could try and whettle it down if he got something sharp. But for now, there was nothing left to do but move on.

He didn't want to hit anyone with it, really, but he wasn't just gonna sit down and let himself die for some madman's kill count and the TV ratings. In extremis. He wasn't sure if those two little words would justify whatever he had to do to God, but it was better than nothing. In extreme situations, you had to do whatever you had to to survive.

And this was certainly an extreme situation.

((Anthony Golden continued in I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner))