I'm Looking For a Place to Start, But Everything Feels So Different Now

[Courtography]

Dan couldn't help but be pulled into messing with Roy some more. He grinned widely, ignoring how his back felt.

"No dirt, but you've tried shi-"

That's when the girl on the ground had leapt to her feet, and her fumbling around made Dan think she was definitely armed and dangerous.

Dan took two quick steps back. He should run. Run far away. Those were the kind of thoughts that were going through his mind.

But he didn't take off into a full run yet. He wasn't a pussy.

[Maraoone]

Just blink.

Maybe this is some look-alike. Some doppelganger. Some other girl in green clothes, backing up against the wall, looking at you like you didn't bring her to prom with Daniel, like you hadn't ranted about novels and traded writing tips over lunch tables, like you hadn't known her, talked to her, longed for her for years and years.

Badass Johnny blinked.

And there Rachael was. Scrabbling for purchase on the ground, staring at him like he would tear the heart out of her. Like he hadn't complimented her clothes yesterday, her blouse which was torn in places now, like she hadn't smiled back at him. And there Roy and Dan were, backing off from her like you would from a rabid dog let loose. And yet Badass Johnny walked closer. Looked at what she was grabbing at, a glint of metal. Looked at her eyes. You could see the whites above and below her pupils. She feared him. And a thought passed through his head, dominated it.

God, what happened to you?

He put his arms around her, embraced her, and held tight.

[Cicadan]

There was Rachael. Blouse gashed on shoulder, one seam unfurling. Dry bile thin from corner of lip to chin. Rabidly breathing. That thing in her entirety was scooped into his, Johnny's, embrace.

That's right. I have a friend.

She went limp as arms engulfed her.



"Look at the person you're sitting next to... thinking.. they'll be the special one..."

Danya's voice cut clear, like the bell tone of a funeral dirge. Rachael was mutely surprised she could painfully extract that memory, like the anesthesia-shy dentist, from her own interlaced recollections of violent screaming and sobbing.

It's like he said. 'Every one of you has the potential'.

She sprang to life. Animal snarling, thrashing, until she was free and there was no longer the cage of human warmth enveloping and seeping through her half-crushed bones, she pivoted on one ankle and hurtled for the earth. At the last second adrenaline nudged her in gentle reminder, she took a flailing leap. Landed on two left feet with her gun liberated and pointing a single curled trigger finger at strange faces
faces like Johnny's, so she ran.

You'll figure it out.

((...))

[Maraoone]

For a moment, everything was OK. For a moment, he and Rachael weren't on the island. Rachael was just having a bad day, a rough day. Maybe she'd had to recite in front of a crowd, and she forgot the answers. That could work, he could believe that. And maybe that's why Johnny had let himself get too relaxed again, why he had fallen complacent again, because he'd let himself fall into the same luxury of routine, when luxury simply did not exist on this island. And so when she kicked and punched at him, he had no choice but to let go.

And then

Johnny Lancer had stared down the barrel of a gun exactly once before. For a fraction of a moment, he stared down the black hole, and then a flash. And then nothing.

And here he was again, in this same situation. With a friend holding the gun once again. And the mere fact that this was happening, that Rachael was doing this to him, saw him dumbstruck. Eyes wide open, staring down the barrel. Staring at the green figure as she became smaller and smaller, as she faded from view and

no

When Badass Johnny had woken up yesterday, he'd told himself that he would get all his friends, that he would gather them all up, and he would get out of this island somehow. And although that 'somehow' remained as blank as ever, the first part of his plan didn't. And here was a friend, a dear friend, just fading from view, and that was not part of the plan that was never part of the plan.

So, he got up, and propelled himself off the ground, running towards Rachael. If Roy and Dan followed, then great, and if they didn't, then so be it.

(("Badass" Johnny Lancer continues in waste of words))

[Pippi]

You couldn’t have blamed Roy for running off, moving away in the opposite direction to wherever-the-fuck Rachael and Johnny were heading. You couldn’t have blamed him for heading back inside the mess hall and flopping face first back onto his bag to grab a well-earned nap. You couldn’t have blamed him for deciding that none of this concerned him, that whatever was going on between those two, as much as he liked ‘em both, wasn’t his problem. No-one could blame him.

He had a bum arm. He would be chasing a girl with a gun who had pointed it at them twice so far. His bag was still in the mess hall. He hadn’t eaten yet. He didn’t know what was even going on. He didn’t know who the bad guy was in this situation. His only weapons were a shard of glass wrapped in a sock, and a single use Death Lipstick. His feet hurt. The moon was in Jupiter, or, like, some bullshit like that.

All these reasons, and more that were spinning around in Roy’s head too fast for him to catch, were enough to make it completely obvious not to go after Johnny. There was only one, sensible decision to make here. The other one might be the death of him.

Roy made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat, and ran after Johnny and Rachael.

((Roy Benson continued in waste of words))

[Courtography]

And that's when everyone else decided to take off running instead. It was odd, but now he didn't feel so bad as he saw them leave his line of sight.
















































































It would probably be best if he followed them, huh?

He sighed and took off after them.

(Dan Liu continued in waste of words)