he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts

[General Goose]

Again, hunga mungas. Fucking stupid weapon.

And there was Sophie. Chuck waved. He threw Lance a nasty side-eye, and whispered to him.

"Hey. Fucktard. Don't assume the announcements are right. Or it wasn't some terrible misunderstanding. When you assume, you make an ass out of you."

Not me, though.

[Laurels]

Sophie watched as the trio moved in response to her appearance. The one girl, Jasmine, had invited her into their group. Another boy had taken to removing a... thing from his bag. He spoke her name with a lot more vitriol. The other guy had taken to speaking with him, but Sophie couldn't hear.

"Please, I'm not looking for a fight," Sophie calmly said, balancing the fishing pole against her shoulder.

She breathed in, then out.

"I know you're afraid, and you have a right to, but please don't do anything brash. Especially while we're near the edge of a cliff."

Sophie glanced a bit towards the edge of the ravine, then back at the group. She hoped she could calm down the guy with the strange blade quickly before someone was killed or sent tumbling over the edge. That would be horrible to see come to be.

[Wham Yubeesling]

Yes, Lance, Jasmine had heard the announcements.

And yes Lance, Jasmine did know that Sophie had killed someone the other day. She wasn’t deaf. She wasn’t dumb. She wasn’t some naive little girl who was so hopeful as to believe that Sophie was innocent and that everyone could just hold their hands and work together. No. Jasmine wasn’t like that. Sophie wasn’t like that. She’d strangled Jeanette. Admittedly, Jasmine hadn’t seen what happened, but to be honest, that was enough. Sophie had strangled Jeanette. That had happened. That had been broadcast all across the island for everyone to hear.

And that was what Lance was reminding her about. Acting as if she was some sort of idiot for not knowing about.

And are you going to stand for that?

Are you just going to let him degrade you?

No.

No. She wouldn’t.

But she had to.

She had to stick with these two. Pretend to be with them.

She had to win this.

So she had to keep her mouth shut. She had to let the men do the talking. She just had to act like some sort of pretty little idiot and act as if everything was sunshine and rainbows down here at death island.

And she could do that.

She could degrade herself.

So she stood there. Tried to hide the snarl on her face.

Curled her first into a ball as she let the two in front of her do the talking.

[Sh4dE]

Sophie then calmly, creepily said that she wasn't looking for fight. For someone that had murdered a person that was way too creepy. Instead of acting like she cared, she just calmly said that as if she was some kind of movie villain. He stared her into the eyes. He ignored Chuck's stupid comment. Oh, the announcement lied and she just accidentally strangled someone because of a misunderstanding. Yeah, why hasn't Lance thought of that?

Lance lowered the hunga munga. Alright. Maybe she was not hostile. He took a couple of steps forward to block Chuck and Jasmine in case Sophie had a gun hiding in her pockets and drew it on them.

"Show us that you are not hostile. And explain yourself what the fuck you did to Jeanette."

Lance shouted the last sentence. The ravine made it echo. He needed to calm down. He lowered his voice and asked in a less aggressive fashion.

"Oh, also on that note. Have you stumbled upon Kasumi in the past day?"

He looked behind him to see if everything's all right. Chuck, calm as usual with his funny hat.

Jasmine however seemed to be nervous, even if she tried to hide it.

"Hey, everything's alright."

Lance smiled at Jasmine.

"There's no need to worry. She's not a threat."

There was indeed no need to worry. Lance could handle it.

[General Goose]

This was NOT how you defused a tense situation. Chuck's parents, they had been trained in how to handle people. How to avoid escalating potential standoffs. How to not ask leading questions, to not put the accused on the defensive, to enable reconciliation and rapprochement. Chuck had not been trained in such techniques. But by a kind of osmosis, he knew the basics. Knew the fundamental dos and do-nots.

Chuck was quite good on emotional intelligence. He'd never say that out loud, of course. The sort of person who boasted of their 'emotional intelligence' was the very sort of person who lacked it. But still. He could read the situation. Jasmine did not seem to revel in being put to the back of the conversation. Sophie, attempting the timbre and candour of a peacemaker despite her bloodied hands, seemed to not at ease by the hunga munga-wielding nutjob interrogating her.

And Lance, with his aggressive profanity and lurching abruptly from point to point, seemed to be doing all of the mistakes imaginable. He was escalating things. Making it a confrontation. Precluding civil discourse. And he seemed to have decided to white knight the whole situation. Lance had appointing himself as the rather paternalistic protector and mediator. He was not qualified for either role but seemed to have thrown himself at it, with no accountability, no discussion, every sort of vexing assumption.

Tall white male privilege in action.

Chuck couldn't immediately undermine Lance. No. There were benefits to a united front, even when it's agitating for a less than ideal stance. He would not call him out on his strategy even more. But he did not hide his eye rolls. Tugged on the ears of his hat, trying to bring it further down onto his head. As a little escapist note. A way of signalling that, no, he was not endorsing this tone.

"Sophie, can you just...explain what happened?"

And fuck it, Chuck couldn't be the adult in the hypothetical room forever.

"And Lance, chill a bit."

[Laurels]

"Okay, for starters, I haven't seen anyone named Kasuni. Sorry about that."

Sophie breathed in, then exhaled.

"Now, about Jeanette. We met yesterday at the lake. As we were talking, Bunny Barlowe appeared and threatened us. I tried to bribe her to leave us alone, but Jeanette argued back. Bunny fired at us, and Jeanette was hit. Jeanette tried to fight her, and I kicked Bunny's gun into the lake. We ran when we had the chance."

Sophie sniffled.

"We ran for a bit, but Jeanette collapsed. She got hit in the arm and lost a lot of blood. Jeanette knew she wasn't going to survive, so she asked me to end it. If I killed her, then Bunny wouldn't get credit, and I could go home if I was the only one left. I didn't want to, but she made it clear there was no other way. So... I choked her."

Sophie wiped her eyes.

"If you don't believe me, she's in the woods. I covered her body in flowers and branches. But that's what happened."

"I know it may be hard to believe, but please do. That's what happened."

[Wham Yubeesling]

And everything was going to be okay.

Because Lance was there. Standing right in front of her. Protecting the weak and pitiful and hopeless girl from the evil vixen Sophie McDowell. Treating Jasmine as if she couldn’t do anything for herself, treating her as if she needed the help of a man in order for her to be capable of anything. No. No. She didn’t want to be treated like that. She didn’t want to be the girl who just stood by and let everyone else tell her what to do. She didn’t want to be the person everyone fucking pitied because she was all-too in over her head. No. No. She didn’t want to be treated like that. She was her. She was Jasmine. She was the one who was going to beat everyone. She was going to be the one who won this game.

And she was not going to be the one who floated, who sank, who did nothing for herself.

And she was not just going to stand around and let herself be ordered. Be pitied.

So don’t.

Take your feelings out.

Let them know that you’re not somebody they can pity.

But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t act out. She needed to lay low. She needed to stay safe. She needed to be pitied. She needed to hide behind people so that when she had to go out on her own she wouldn’t be more injured than she already was. She needed to stay in a group so that she had people to protect her. At least until the numbers went down.

At least until she could show them.

But you can’t do that now.

You know that.

They saw what you did to Paris.

Everyone did.

You think they’ll want to work with you once they find out?

Do you think they’ll pity you then?

She didn’t know.

But every time it went over in her mind the answer was clear in her head. She- the voice was right. If they found out, if she and Chuck and Lance ran into Brigid or Aria or Maxwell they wouldn’t want to work with her anymore. They’d fear her. They’d run from her. They’d pass on the word that Jasmine had hurt Paris and then nobody else would want to work with her. They’d run from her and they’d hunt her down and they’d call her a monster. Say that they were better since they hadn’t done anything. Say that they deserved to live more than her since they’d done nothing to justify why they were still alive. Still walking.

And they wouldn’t pity her.

And they wouldn’t coddle her.

And once they found out what she could do, they’d find out what the true meaning of fear was.

So no.

She was right.

There was no point in hiding behind the two men.

There was no point in being treated a child.

Because she was Jasmine. She was the one responsible for everything she’d been able to do. She was the one who was going to win this game.

And there was no way she was going to let anyone pity her. Not here, not now, not ever.

She felt the heat wrap her skin as she stood, as she felt the wind blow against the edge of the cliff.

She could feel the pain - sharp, fading - as her hand curled out, moved down to her skirt pocket.

And she could feel everything - the heat rising, her skin tingling, her face contorting into a grin - as she raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

[Sh4dE]

It was hard to believe indeed. But then Lance's ears were filled with a loud sound.

"...!"

An ambush? Did Sophie set a trap?

Lance quickly turned around and saw Jasmine King, smiling, with the gun in hand, having clearly been triggered. She had not repositioned it to shoot at him again. Without thinking he swung the hunga munga at Jasmine and lunged at her trying to get control of the Colt.

Lance was on top of Jasmine and she still held the gun, almost pointing it at his body. It felt like armwrestling, except that if you lose you get shot in the face. The good thing about it being like armwrestling was that Lance had two hands to force the gun away from him, while Jasmine still had just one arm to fight back, while Lance tried to block her other arm with his elbow from being able to help.

Success.

The gun was no longer in Jasmine's hand. Before it could endanger either of them, Lance quickly punched the Colt out of the way. It slided some meters next to the two of them.

"Guys! Someone retrieve the gun."

He shouted back without looking what has happened. Now he put the hunga munga near Jasmine's throat so she could not stand up. The side of his eye nervously noticed that they had scuffled closer to the edge.

What now, was the question.

Lance knew Kasumi thought all life was sacred.

Do not kill, a rule invented to secure societies. But this was not society anymore. SOTF was pure anarchy.

Could Lance kill? Would he be able to take a life to save his own? Kasumi's? Anyone Jasmine would harm?

No, what he was doing is not self-defense. He is killing. He is murdering.

No.

He would not do that.

His removed his shaky hand from Jasmine's throat and stood up. The only job he has to do is to make sure Jasmine is not a threat anymore. No more, no less.

He looked behind and- oh god.

So much blood.

"Oh god. Chuck, I'm s-sorry."

[General Goose]

Chuck was, for all his loudness and brashness, relatively modest in his motions. He gesticulated and waved a lot, sure, and sometimes exaggerated those traits for comic effect. But, in part thanks to his dimunitive proportions and in part thanks to a naturally laidback disposition, he was not one for grand gestures. Was not one for obtrusive movements, or gaudy motions accompanying a minor action. He understood other people were like that. But when Chuck was not trying to make a point, he was rather utilitarian in his movements.

And so it was for that reason that he'd underestimated the swing of Lance's blade. Only the edge had caught him.

One silver lining. His glasses were in his sweatshirt pocket at the time. However, that thought was far from Chuck's mind in that moment. His brain was still processing the gunshot, still overcoming the ringing in his ears, still mediating between the reflexive instincts of fight and flight, when the curvature of the sword caught the skin beneath his eye. It ran up his face, from the middle of his cheek to just above his eyebrow, carving a thick red line straight through it.

Missed his eye by less than a centimetre. Another silver lining.

Chuck had seen Lance jump into action. He had then seen a flash of silver in his left eye. And then, red. Chuck's yell was muffled by the sound of combat. Undoubtedly merged with the screams from the gunshot. Lance would not even notice that, in his swing, he had cut a gash over Chuck's face. He had fallen onto his knees, and then onto his bag. Felt the jagged edges of the crossbow through the fabric. He could defend himself. He could. He could reach in. Pull it out.

No.

He tried taking his hands away from his eyes. More blood. No. Brought them back to his eye. Leaned back. Pressure. Apply pressure. Just repeat that in his head. Apply pressure. Apply pressure. If anyone else was saying anything, Chuck did not know. Right now, he was placing his trust in the hands of others. Only trust Lance. Sophie. Used to be nice. Mercy-killer. He wasn't ready to be mercy-killed.

And Jasmine.

Bitch.

Apply pressure.

[Laurels]

Jasmine gave Sophie an immediate answer. It was not the one she was hoping for.

Sophie saw Jasmine swing something up. Her eyes widened as she remembered Bunny making the same motion. Sophie quickly threw herself backwards as the gun fired, landing on her back. She dropped the fishing pole and her bag to the side. She felt a bit woozy from hitting her head on the ground, but didn't have much time to think about it. She could hear the other two moving to respond to Jasmine.

Sophie leaned up a bit as she saw Lance pin Jasmine down. She pushed herself a bit and then let out a cry. Lance had swung his weapon back and hit Chuck, who was now also on the ground clutching his eyes.

"Oh god," she muttered to herself.

Sophie got back up and onto her knees. She didn't know what she should do right now. Chuck was hurt, and Jasmine was pinned. She didn't have much to do, but maybe she could kick the gun over the edge of the ravine. It would just be like with Bunny and the lake. At the very least, then the four of them could talk and patch up Chuck. It should be easy.

It looked like Sophie wouldn't get to do that. Before she could do anything, the gun was back in Jasmine's hand, and beginning to swing upwards. Sophie gasped.

[Wham Yubeesling]

Everything had happened so quickly.

Lance’s body plowed into her stomach like a cannonball as she fell back. As she felt gravity take her. As she felt the world and the cliffs spin around her before her body hit the ground, before she felt her head crack against the cliffs surface.

And when everything came back, when everything stopped spinning, she saw him. Lance. Above her. Holding her body down.

Holding a weapon in his hands.

And immediately the feeling - the heat rising, her skin tingling - left. Vanished.

And immediately, a new feeling - her skin crawling, her breaths stopping - began to rule her body.

Because she was going to die here. Lance was going to kill her and she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t fight, she couldn’t defend herself, and she wouldn’t win. She’d just be a victim, right here on top of those cliffs. Jasmine King, killed by Lance Adams. Jasmine King, not the winner of this game. Jasmine King, some poor girl who fell victim to the most horrific event the world had ever seen. And all she had achieved would be for nothing. Her parents would just continue worshipping her brother. Her brother would keep on doing nothing to deserve it.

And they’ll all forget you.

Just as they always do.

They’ll just see a girl who died in fear and terror right in front of their eyes, They’ll look you up and find out who you were and you know what they’ll say? They’ll say something like: ‘Aww, the poor girl. She tried so hard and yet she still failed as hard as she could.’

‘Honestly, I just feel sorry for her.’

And she hated that.

And a pang, a rush of revulsion went through her body as Lance raised the weapon up high.

And there was nothing she could do.

She could only close her eyes. Turn her head. Wait for death to come down.

…

…

But it didn’t.

The empty air brushed against her body. The wind - Chuck’s cries - sounded out.

And she felt a weight lift off of her. The warmth of Lance’s body leaving.

And she opened her eyes. Saw the cliff. Saw the sea, in the distance. Saw her gun, laying on the ground. Saw Lance standing up. Leaving her behind. Helping Chuck.

He was sparing her.

And there was something, at that. A feeling of relief. The fear - the crawling on her skin - dissipating and leaving nothing else in its wake. Because she was alive. She had been spared. She could still walk and she could still fight and she could still win. She could still show them all what she could do and she felt thankful for that. Thankful to Lance for sparing her. Pitying her. Leaving her be.

But there was another feeling. Like heat wrapping her skin. Something in her, rising up and up until her body just couldn’t take it anymore.

Because Lance had spared her.

Because Lance had pitied her.

And when someone watched this, when someone saw the scene on these cliffs, they wouldn’t see her. They wouldn’t see Jasmine. They would only see a girl sprawled on the ground, relieved that she was still alive. They wouldn’t see her, they wouldn’t see someone they could fear, they’d just see a girl who just moments earlier thought that she was about to die. They wouldn’t see someone who had achieved what she wanted, they’d just see a man standing up, helping his friend, having saved the girl who had just tried to kill them because he pitied her. Because he thought himself better than her. Because he just felt so sorry for her that he just couldn’t bear to end her life.

And that was what they would see too. Not a girl to fear, not a girl to be scared of, but someone to pity. Someone to feel sorry for. Someone who they couldn’t bear to see die.

And she didn’t want to be pitied.

She didn’t want to be coddled.

Because she was Jasmine. She was the one responsible for everything she’d been able to do. She was the one who was going to win this game.

And there was no way she was going to let anyone pity her. Not here, not now, not ever.

She could feel the heaviness of her breath as she saw the gun. On the ground. Laying there for anyone to take.

And she could feel the weight of her body as she crawled, curled her fingers around the gun.

And she could feel everything - her breaths, her weight, the heat all around her - as she raised the gun at Lance and pulled the trigger.

[Sh4dE]

All Lance saw was chaos. Hectic chaos. Chuck being in pain and Sophie rushing.

Then Lance felt the bullet tearing through the back out of his chest without realising what had happened. He dropped the Hunga Munga to clutch his chest.

The force of the bullet moved him forwards, he landed sideways. Then, he rolled to land on his butt. But the butt did not land on the ground. It landed on air, Wil E. Coyote-style.

The moments where his back bend to fall down were the scariest. Then it was an upside down slide. He could see the sun distancing itself from him. Then his head hit something and was probably broken by it, and Lance felt that he was now doing gravity right again. His feet now were facing the upcoming ground. It was the worst roallercoaster.

Lance tried his best to turn around, to slide on the belly instead of his back to be able to reduce the speed somehow. After turning around, he tried to grab the wall with the hands.

He needed to reduce the speed. He pressed with his feet against the wall, attempting to at least stop the fall.

Finally, he arrived at the bottom. Everything hurt.

Lance now knew everything would come to an end for him now. All he had left to say were his final words.

Big words.

No.

Some smart last words. People will think: What a clever boy. Such a pity he died at such a young age. But no, he was speechless.

[MurderWeasel]

This had been a good week. Not the start—the start had just been normal, but then again, the gull didn't really have enough of an awareness of time and its passage to draw some arbitrary seven-day line and mark that as distinct; it had absolutely no conception that its good fortune had come on a Saturday. So: this had been a good week. It was satisfied and content as it picked among the stones. There was something shiny in one of the little pools, but it was wedged between some pebbles and difficult to remove.

And then there was an almighty cacophony, of the sort the gull had experienced only once before (and that quite recently) and it took off along with the others in its flock, abandoning the rocky bottom of the ravine in favor of a more clearly safe perch on the opposite bank. It was from this locale that the beady black eyes tracked the descent of the object, the cloud of dust and rocks, the disruption.

A grey chick panicked and flew up further still, abandoning the immediate area entirely, but the gull did not share the apprehension of the younger bird. Land-bound creatures were of very little threat in the ravine. This was part of why the flock spent so much time here; the other part was the fish and crustaceans and occasional small mammals which were dashed against the walls and left broken and enticing upon the ground when the tide receded.

The gull was a large representative of its species, very well fed. This was a good place to live.

The object came to a rest at the bottom, finally, and for a few seconds longer rocks and dirt followed it down but then that too fell still. The flock shifted, squabbled, but the gull stood aloof. It waited. It watched. And when no further movement was immediately forthcoming, it launched from its post on a warm flat rock and angled down, towards the fallen form. The others tracked it, pausing their quarrels. They knew it was one of the first to foray, and that often good things could be found in its wake.

Descending, the gull saw that the thing was mostly bright red on its upper half and blue on its lower half and those colors weren't appetizing but the gull wasn't all that hungry just this moment anyways; it had eaten... something or other pretty recently maybe. It didn't really remember those things, but it was more curious than hungry. It was scoping out options for later.

And options there were. Because above the unappetizing red was a fleshy bit, a very large one and that stirred something in the gull that was sort of memory, and that sort of memory said: Good eatin'! But also it said: Potential periodic resistance. So since the gull was not hungry just now but merely exploring options for later when it was, it landed a little away and then shuffled closer. Closer. Closer.

Back a little. Did it move? Maybe. Maybe not.

Closer again.

[Sh4dE]

Why couldn't he think of something before biting the dust? It seemed there was little time left. There was no energy. No sugar, no blood.

His heart raced as he saw a creature approaching him, coming nearer and nearer, leading Lance to finally pass out.

Now there was just a body in the ravine waiting for the flood to come to reunite him with Ursula and the eels.

Boy 25 - Lance Adams - Dead

[Laurels]

((Skipping and GMing approved))

Sophie slowly stood up as she saw Jasmine's bullet tear through Lance, then watched as he fell over the edge. How did it all fall apart so quickly? All she did was try to explain why Jeanette was dead, and now someone else had to die. Sophie stared at the girl on the ground, holding the smoking gun, then at the boy clutching his bleeding face.

Sophie kept her arms to her side and breathed in.

"Why?" she asked the girl. "Why did you do that?"

She then closed her eyes and clutched her fists. She suddenly realized it didn't matter. It was only two days here and she had seen two people get shot, and then saw those same two people die. Motive didn't matter; words mattered. Sophie knew she needed to choose her words carefully, otherwise she would join Lance at the bottom of the ravine. Chuck needed her, and she had to at least hold onto some part of herself before her life ended.

"Okay, in an attempt to ensure no one else dies here, let me say something," she said to Jasmine. "You got one kill. You can go home if you're the last person left. If you kill us, then people will just come to kill you. If they kill you, then Lance died for nothing. If you kill me, then it means I killed Jeanette for nothing, and that Lance's death was even more pointless."

"Please just go away and leave us be. Let this be your one, and then hide out somewhere so that we hopefully don't see you again."

She prepared herself for what happened next.