It's Easier To Leave Than To Be Left Behind

[MurderWeasel]

((Karen Ruiz continued from Last Page))

Karen's movement across the plains had not been quick. Her transformed determination did not outweigh her caution. She had left Kathy's body by the bench. She wondered what would happen to all of the corpses, whether they were eventually cleaned up. They had to be. She would be very surprised if the owners of the island didn't cash in on its fame and restore its status as a tourist destination in the aftermath of the show.

Thinking about the show made Karen realize that it probably wasn't going out live, at least, not by now. There was simply too much going on. By the time most people saw what she had done to Kathy, a winner would have already emerged. Karen would be free or dead. It was strange thinking of things in that context. In a way, it was almost as if all her actions were already in the past. It sounded like some science fiction novel she had once read, but she couldn't remember which. She didn't even devote energy to trying. She could puzzle over books later, when this was all over.

Off in the distance, Karen could see a figure, a girl, she thought, beginning to descend a hill. A quick check revealed that the girl was alone. The distance was fairly great, though. It would be challenging to catch up with her while remaining unseen. An alternate plan came to mind: Karen would just shadow her, then catch her if she stopped. Simple, efficient, and leaving open plenty of possibilities to change things up as necessary. She made her way towards the hill. It would be a good vantage point from which to watch for the girl.

The walk was not easy, but it was not too hard, either. All the things Karen was carrying were finally beginning to wear her down. She imagined she was still in better shape than most, however. After all, she had been eating full meals where possible, not bothering to ration since her food stores were abundant. She was also remaining properly hydrated, drinking water and sweating it back out as she went, leaving the empty bottles lying on the ground. It wasn't a perfect situation, but it was much better than it had any right to be.

The biggest annoyance was that deep breathing aggravated her various bruises. Using her left arm for quick movements also made it ache. She didn't enjoy being injured, that was certain. Still, she hadn't sustained anything worse than a beating. She was quite lucky, all things considered.

At the top of the hill, she looked out over the sea of grass once more, and was surprised to find that she had lost track of the girl entirely. Maybe it had taken her longer to move than she had imagined. Time was hard to keep track of here. She had thought the announcements were imminent, and that had been nearly an hour ago, but the sun wasn't even to its midpoint in the sky. Maybe her body was still on Detroit time. She didn't know how she felt about that. A little bitter, perhaps.

Without a target, she sat at the top of the hill, keeping a relatively low profile. She would just rest for a few seconds, then go back to the search.

[Casey The Undead*]

((Brenda Hernandez, continued from Follow Me, Don't Follow Me))

Brenda stopped, trying to catch her breath. April couldn't be too far. She had run this way, right?

Actually, what was "this way?" Brenda wasn't looking at a map, and she hadn't been keeping track of her compass. She hadn't even looked behind her to see if Jhamel had followed after all. She was running blind and totally alone. She leaned on her knees, fighting to urge to throw up. Everything would be fine. April had only left a few minutes ago.

Or hours. Time passed weird here.

Either way, it wasn't long enough for her to get into serious trouble, surely. There weren't that many killers, were there? What were the odds that one of them found April?

...

Oh.

Rather high, actually, if Brenda really thought about it. Sure, not everyone had gotten a kill, but there were quite low chances that everyone had decided to do as Brenda was doing and actually help people-

No. Stop that. People are good. People are decent. This is God's plan. Remember that. Everything is going to be fine. April is fine. Jeanette and Eloise are fine. Jhamel is fine. You are fine.

Brenda stood up fully, her back cracking slightly as she did so. She reached in her bag and pulled out water, wondering what time of day it was and if it had really been that long since the weak dinner of Cliff-bars on the beach last night. It didn't matter. Food could wait. Brenda had people to help and a crazy white girl to find.

She shoved the water away, deciding to climb up the hill closest to her. At least there she could get a good feel for where she was, and then try and figure out where April had gone off too.

Brenda was almost at the top of the hill when she noticed the figure sitting on top of it. She blinked. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Out of all the people on the island, out of all the odds...

Brenda couldn't keep the edge of shock out of her voice.

"Karen?"

[MurderWeasel]

Karen hadn't been paying enough attention. That was very clear. She had been concentrating on remaining unseen, but had, just for a few minutes, relaxed her vigilance when it came to catching others before they got too close. Now, she was being addressed, which meant the person speaking knew who she was, which meant they knew she was a threat and might be getting ready to take action. Karen's reflexes told her to turn and open fire right away, but if her opponent was armed, sudden moves would not be the right way to go about this.

And so she turned carefully and slowly, and her set of worries was replaced by an entirely different one. The girl who had spoken was one she recognized. It was Brenda, from lunch. Brenda, who Karen, upon reflection, knew so very little about. Brenda talked too much, and didn't really say anything when she did, and she was interested in soccer to some degree. She kickboxed. Karen remembered that clearly. It had been trivia at the time. Now it was a warning. The fact that Brenda wasn't holding a weapon meant absolutely nothing. She was a weapon.

Karen knew all this, but she didn't know if Brenda had siblings, if she had special dreams, if she had someone she cared deeply about, someone she had perhaps lost. On some level, Karen didn't want to care about these things. It wasn't so easy, though.

Brenda was also someone Karen liked. She was a pretty decent person, one who Karen had been hoping she would never interact with again. It was easier when it was just names read over the speakers, connected to other names. Easier still when half the names didn't mean anything.

Karen hadn't wanted to find the people she liked. She had hoped they would find their own ways to die, ways that did not involve her. Now that she was planning to leave early, she thought it might not even be necessary for all of them to perish. Maybe one could win and go back to their life, be happy or something. There were other roads to survival for those who did not have the stigma of being seen as weak. Brenda could probably have skimmed to the finals without ever engaging in actual violence, killing only when it was absolutely necessary. Society would have accepted that. Her friends, her family, would have accepted that.

Instead, she had run into Karen. More than that, she had chosen to approach Karen, knowing full well who she was and what she had done—no, part of what she had done; only her first four murders had been announced so far. All of that screamed danger. Maybe Brenda thought she was doing something noble, slaying the monster she knew, putting a twisted spirit to rest. Speculation was pointless. Whatever angle Brenda was playing, Karen wasn't going to die to it.

So she raised her Glock and pointed it, finger off the trigger but ready to change that at a moment's notice, and said, "Brenda."

[T-Fox*]

((Jhamel Thompson continued from Follow Me, Don't Follow Me.))

God damn that girl could run fast.

Brenda had gotten just a bit of a head start on Jhamel, but holy crap that was all it took. Apparently the adrenaline was pumping something fierce for her, probably fueled by the reminder of just what danger her friends were in right now. A pang of guilt washed over him as he thought to poor Eloise, but unfortunately for her right now it was two or one. He had faith that Eloise could keep herself safe. She was the smartest one out of the group after all. Yeah, she'd be smart enough to lie her head low, keep out of danger, and wait for them to find her. Or hell, she might be able to figure out where they were anyways, right? Shit, he'd seen too many chance meetings watching this game growing up; there had to be some way to actually logic out where your friends were that he was just way too fucking panicked to figure out.

Or at least that was what he told himself. Something, somewhere deep in him was crafting these little lies, hitting all of the right triggers to just push the guilt away, just long enough to create a utilitarian good. Two lives saved, one life saved. The rational, human part of his mind could never choose. Instinct chose for him.

That was the break he needed. The plains suddenly became hilly where he was, and a few minutes ago he had lost sight of the ever shrinking spot he had been chasing for what had admittedly felt like hours. In actuality, it had only probably been minutes. Quite a few, but still minutes. He saw Brenda collapse, her hands on her knees, gasping for breath, screwing around with her bag from the top of a hill. It was far from the largest hill in the area, but he could still see a decent direction in all distances. However, he knew this was his only real chance to catch up. So barely stopping to breathe, he redoubled his efforts, continuing to sprint. He tried to yell out Brenda's name, tried to catch her attention, but instead it was just wheezed, almost certainly inaudible to the girl.

Oh well. She was right there. It wasn't as if she needed to notice him right that second.

"Karen."

"Brenda."

Or maybe he could be wronger than he ever dreamed. On one hand, she had slowed down, which meant that he could finally catch up. On the other hand, the reason she still wasn't moving was bad. To say the least. Karen was the first name of threat number one on this island. Public enemy number 1. And unless there was another Karen who also went to Detroit running around, Brenda was in some serious shit.

He was only halfway up the hill. Karen didn't know he was there. Hell, Brenda probably didn't know he was there yet. He slid the Colt 1911 from the waistband of his shorts, checking to make sure it was in the state he left it. Cocked and locked. He hadn't reloaded since the shit with Zach, so he was down a bullet or two. He couldn't honestly remember how many, but he knew he had at least five left, which wouldn't be an issue. With as much stealth as he could muster, he slid the backpack from his back and let it set upon a relatively level spot of ground, glancing to make sure it stayed where it was.

Now, it was at this point that a few thoughts ran through his mind on how to approach the situation. He could pick something up and throw it, hopefully distracting them both, and pop a cap in Karen's ass. Not only would that look fucking badass and protect Brenda, but it would earn him points with the bangers back in Detroit. Although truth be told he wasn't sure if he even cared about that anymore. The other option wouldn't have even come to mind if he hadn't heard the two talking. Karen had four kills. At the very least. Talking wasn't exactly something he expected. That meant that Brenda probably knew Karen before all of this. No wonder the first death had hit her hard.

He slowly stalked up the hill, careful to make as little noise as possible. He'd have to make up his mind soon. He glanced to the gun in his hand. The power to kill. Could he really go through with it? Talking a big game and believing he could back it up was totally different than when the chips were down. Sure he'd shot at Zach, but even he couldn't tell if that was voluntary or not; that had been one hell of a hit to the temple. This would be premeditated.

...

"Brenda! You a'ight?"

[Casey The Undead*]

((GMing Approved))

Brenda stared for another few seconds, trying to figure out what was going through Karen's mind. However, reading Karen was kind of like trying to read Great Expectations in Mandarin Chinese, so Brenda was left relatively in the dark. She cleared her throat, wondering what to say next.

I need to find April, I'm wasting my time here.

Yes, that was true. Every second Brenda spent staring awkwardly at Karen was a second that April got farther away. Unless, of course, Karen had already gotten to April. Unless someone else had gotten to April. Unless April had gone a different way. Unless, unless, unless, useless. Brenda cleared her throat again.

Karen Ruiz has killed people. If I let her go, then she kills more people. We're friends, right? Maybe she'll listen to me. Maybe she'll understand.

A noble thought, surely, but unfortunately a very incorrect one. Not that Brenda knew that.

"Karen..." Brenda said again, still at a loss for words. A small part of her brain was shrieking yes yes she is Karen and you are Brenda this has been established now DO SOMETHING. Brenda tried to ignore it. She had to think clearly. This was careful ground she was treading here.

"I don't think you're a bad guy, you know. You can still save yourself, Karen. You can still be forgiven. You just have to stop this. Please."

Of course, Brenda did not take into fact that the only real ways to Survive this were to get ten kills and a free pass, or to win, both of which required murder. Brenda was not thinking about that type of salvation. She was being good, and noble, and honorable, as heroes often are.

But in a game like this, being good and noble and honorable did little. Because all of your honor cannot save you from a bullet to the brain.   Games like this thrived off of cheating and thieving and manipulating, off of playing. It was not a world made for girls like Brenda.

All of which Brenda did not know. All of which Brenda tossed aside for her belief that deep down the world was truly good and that only the truly good would survive it. She opted for God's Plan over Survival of the Fittest, and if there was ever a situation where that was a very, very, ridiculously bad idea, then this was it.

At this point, Brenda should have turned and ran. She should have jogged back to Jhamel, and finished searching for April, and let Karen Ruiz continue on the game killing people. But no. Brenda believed in God's plan. And this was God's plan.

It was a shame that God's plan didn't involve Brenda for much longer.

"Karen, if you're really this person, this horrible, murdering person, then prove it. Kill me. Shoot me. I don't honestly think you can."

Brenda didn't watch many horror movies. She didn't know that the girl who tempts fate often gets the axe to the face.

There were several reasons why Brenda told Karen Ruiz to shoot her, the first being that Brenda thought Karen was her friend, and that friendship would prevent Karen from pulling the trigger. The second was that Brenda still believed that God's plan somehow involved Brenda stopping Karen from killing. The third was that Brenda was incredibly, ridiculously exhausted, and rather stressed, and not thinking entirely straight.

Jhamel called from down the hill, and Brenda, having not watched many horror movies, turned her back on Karen to face him.

"I'm fine Jhamel! Everything's-"

The gun fired.

First there was a sharp pain in Brenda's throat. Why was there a pain in her throat? She grabbed her throat frantically, wondering what had-

Oh.

That was an awful lot of blood.

Karen had shot Brenda in the throat.

Karen had shot Brenda in the throat.

Brenda tried to scream, but it came out a gargled mess of blood, which was now seeping through her mouth, and through her fingers, and oh it was on her clothes, her brown tank top, the Brown Team, April, April, Brenda had promised to help April and what was she doing? Bleeding to death? That wasn't particularly helpful!

Brenda tried to turn back to Karen, but couldn't quite make it through the pain and the blood and the dying, so instead she crumpled to her knees.

But this was God's plan, I was part of God's plan, this wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to, Karen was supposed to, April was supposed to, Jhamel was, Jhamel, Jhamel.

She needed him to run, to run fast, to run as fast as possible, far away, because Karen had shot her, because Karen her friend had shot her, but she couldn't scream, and why was time passing so slowly? Did every second drag on in this agony before and Brenda just never noticed?

Brenda hacked, and her throat bled and bled and bled. And desperately, in more pain then she had ever thought imaginable, in the worst moment of her entire life, in the last moments of her entire life, Brenda thought of a beautiful, beautiful lie.

Everything is going to be alright.

And then everything was gone.

BRN5- BRENDA HERNANDEZ: DECEASED.

[MurderWeasel]

Perhaps it could have ended differently had circumstances been just a little different. Faced with Brenda, Karen felt her resolve crumble, just the slightest of bits. She knew what she had to do. Three murders. The sooner she got them out of the way, the better. Sooner or later, her luck would run out. Every moment, the weaklings, the easy targets, the victims—they were all falling prey to other dangers. Some were managing to get themselves killed through stupidity, others were being murdered by people like Vincent, people who didn't know the score. Before long, the only people left would be the dangerous ones, the ones who could take care of themselves. Karen wasn't at all sure she could last in those circumstances.

All that aside, she had murdered one friend in the recent past. She didn't really see a need to make it two. Brenda was dangerous, but she wasn't actively hostile. Karen could always tell her to go. She could always send Brenda off to meet her fate elsewhere. It had been her original plan. It was so much easier to just allow the people she liked and cared about to be picked off by the others.

But Brenda was talking. Karen was right in her assessment: Brenda talked too much. She was dangling words and promises. She was saying it wasn't too late, was saying that Karen still had a chance. Brenda claimed that Karen could be saved, that she could be forgiven. Perhaps it was meant in a metaphysical sense, the work of God or something of the sort. Perhaps it was a far more practical, down-to-earth statement. Karen was, in all likelihood, despised at the moment She had become the scapegoat, the villain, the symbol of everything wrong in the world given form in this competition. She would have a difficult time of it once she left the island, probably. Her options were very limited. There would be no returning to school, to Detroit, to her family. She had heard that winners were sometimes able to spin their success in the program into financial and career success in their new lives, but she had no idea if that would apply to her as well, if she got out early. For all she knew, she could end up living on the streets, constantly looking over her shoulder, always afraid that someone would recognize her and come at her with a knife.

But Brenda was wrong. There was no forgiveness or salvation. Redemption was a concept created by bad people with guilty consciences who wanted to feel better about themselves. It was for people without the strength of character to own their crimes. To seek redemption, one would have to feel regret. One would have to acknowledge that they were wrong.

Karen had done nothing wrong. She knew this. She had made immoral choices, many of them. She had made petty, selfish, hurtful choices. She accepted this. She knew also, however, that she had probably done nothing particularly fantastic or meaningful. The slaughter would go on no matter what. There would be one survivor, typically. This time, there would be perhaps two or three. The real secret was that they weren't the people who were good, or who were bad, or who were strong, or who deserved it. They were the people who looked at the situation and said to themselves, "Why not me?"

And so Karen listened, and she kept her Glock ready. Close range. Aimed, right at the base of the neck. No mistakes here, no surprises. She wasn't about to let Brenda lull her into a false sense of security and then lay her out. If she shot, she would be shooting to end this.

Brenda gave her an ultimatum, at the same time telling Karen she wasn't such an awful person, that she wasn't a horrible murderer. A day ago, Karen would have seized upon those words. She would have held them close to her, let them define her. She wouldn't have stopped killing, no, that had always been out of the question. She might have picked her targets a little more carefully, though. She would have said Brenda's word, would have insisted that she wasn't a murderer, wasn't an awful person. She would have said that she was just practicing self defense, just doing the bare minimum she had to. Now, though, after Kathy, she simply knew that Brenda was wrong.

She didn't know how she felt about that. A little amused, perhaps.

She was so wrapped up in all of this that she almost missed the boy sneaking up the hill behind Brenda. Karen had good hearing, and she paid good attention, but she only realized that he was there a couple seconds before he spoke, still beyond the crest and out of sight. She didn't twitch, didn't shoot on instinct, but she realized that the dynamic had just changed. There was someone else, maybe armed, maybe backing up Brenda's bravado. Whatever the case, he was there, and Brenda turned to talk to him and said she was fine, and he was a danger. He was sneaky and he was allied with her and that made both of them a threat. It was just another reminder that nowhere was safe. There was no rest, no peace to be had here. The only safety would come once Karen was free.

Three murders. Three opponents.

She pulled the trigger.

Two murders. Two opponents. Back where it all began.

It was still a little bit shocking, watching someone she liked die. Karen only stood for a few moments, enough to watch the light begin to fade from Brenda's eyes, to make sure she hadn't bungled it. The last thing she needed was for her actions to be rendered pointless by some would-be hero who got it into their head that maybe a mercy kill was in order.

And then, she was going. No time for the bandanna, tied securely around Brenda's right arm. No matter. Brenda had a friend on his way, probably running after her right now. Karen had absolutely no interest in getting into a third fight with a bereaved ally. She was at the crest of the hill, and he still had a way to come to make it to the top. She knew the direction he was coming from. It was a simple matter to grab her things in a quick swoop and get running in exactly the opposite direction. With any luck, the boy would pause to confirm that Brenda was dead. Anything to buy a bit more time. All Karen needed was some distance. The terrain here was hilly. It would be hard to keep her in sight. She could lose him. Simple.

And if he decided to follow her? If he tracked her, stalked her, tried to run her to ground and finish her off out of some misguided sense of justice?

She would try to avoid that fight, just like she tried to avoid all fights that weren't one-sided, but when it all came down to it, the boy was certainly an enemy.

Two opponents.

And she was running as quickly as she could.

((Karen Ruiz continued in Pieces of What?))

[T-Fox*]

Just like that, another life was ended. And not just any life. Not just another god damned name on the announcements. He didn't see it happen, but he knew exactly what had happened. Karen had shot Brenda. That one simple little pop. His ears ringing, just like they were before. Just like that, with the simple pull of a trigger, Brenda was gone. And Jhamel hadn't done a god damned thing to stop it.

He didn't save Jeanette. You promised.

He didn't save Eloise. You promised.

He didn't save April. You promised.

He didn't save Brenda. You promised.

The sound of footsteps on the grass had already long passed, and the boy couldn't even bring himself to crest the hill. He was alone. Just yesterday, on the beach, he had been surrounded by good people. Caring people. He was the one with the gun. It had been given to him for a reason. He was supposed to save them. To protect them. Brown and Red, through till the end. They would make it. They would make it, they would fix it. He would make sure all five of them made it back to their families. Even if it meant his own life. Even if he had to let Jeanette kill him for kill number ten, leaving the other three to win as the Brown Team, the last team standing. He'd made a god damned promise. A promise he couldn't keep.

Just like his promises to mom. Just like his promises to dad.

Don't worry! I'll do good, and I'll get you out of here! We'll be happy! You'll see!

*BANG*

Just like his promises to Charile.

Yo man. Don't you worry bout this shit. I got it covered. Beat a bitch ass Crip? No sweat.

*BANG*

Just like his promises to Brenda. Just like his promises to April.

She's going to be fine.

*BANG*

Just like his promises to Eloise. Just like his promises to Jeanette.

I ain't gonna let that shit happen to no one else.

*BANG*

One little twitch of a little muscle in the little finger of a little quiet girl from little Detroit. And all of those big promises were gone. The big man, the big talk, all revealed. He couldn't do a damn thing he said he could.

Brenda was right there. Dead in the grass. His hands were in her hair. His face was pressed against hers, her blood not the only liquid staining her now silent, serene form. A shining hunk of metal glistened in the grass beside the pair, as Jhamel mourned the loss of what could possibly be the greatest friend he had ever had, even though he had never known it. Bonding happened fast when you were forced into something so extreme, so heinous as this. You cling to those who can help, for once they're gone, that's it.

This was it.

So... This was it. He was alone. He was alone, with nothing but enemies. No one to trust. Nothing to do. He couldn't win. How could he face himself after?

No. There was something he could do.

Karen had taken Brenda away from him. Karen was this game. This game had taken Eloise. This game had taken Jeanette. This game had taken April. Karen had taken them. Karen was the game. Karen was everything this game stood for. And the game took them. Karen took them.

By playing this game, Karen had become the game. She was what the game represented.

All of their blood was on her hands. Everyone's blood was on her hands.

He couldn't yet save them. There was nothing that could be done.

He could still beat the game.

((Jhamel Thompson continued in Pieces of What?))