Violence

[AtomicWaffle†]

"Fuck you, Danya."

These were the last words Christian Rydell heard before futily struggling to stay awake, and then passing out from the sleeping gas. He'd now awoken in a dark, stench-filled Graveyard, placed lying on top of one of the graves; a musty smell escaped from an old, overgrown Chapel, not far away. ...Survivial of the Fittest? That... sick game? The wet grass squelched sickeningly as Christian pushed himself off of it. If he remembered correctly, The 'Game' was that some group of terrorists kidnapped a group of High-School Students, gave them weapons, and forced them to kill each other. And if they don't go where they're told, they get their heads blown apart by explosive, remote-controlled collars. Curiously, he picked up the daypack by his side and opened it. Inside were numerous rations, supplies, and....

"A skipping rope? A SKIPPING ROPE?"

Christian held the blue-yellow band in his hands. It wasn't even a large skipping rope, even. He was going to have to get creative if... Wait, no. He couldn't kill anybody. That wasn't his style. The closest he'd came to even witnessing death was a man having a heart attack at a concert of his, and even then, he'd survived. "Oh damn... I've got to try and adapt and survive on an island full of lunatic High School Students, with a skipping rope. Me. The skinny bastard of a keyboardist whose most violent act was to punt a messed-up mic. Oh, why...." The Keyboardist winced angrily, and kicked a gravestone, only to realize it wasn't quite THAT old, and succeeded in hurting his foot. He bit his lip. A camera peered down at him from the Chapel. "Adam's right, fuck you, Danya. Assjack."
The insult no sooner left his lips then he heard footsteps coming from the direction of the Chapel.

~

Will Sigurbjornsson awoke behind a large, stone wall. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be an overgrown Chapel. A horrible, perverted form of the 'Old Church Smell' erupted from a shattered window with each passing gust of wind, and Will leaped up, off of the ground. A large object clanked inside of his day-pack. Hmm... Daypack?

Now Will remembered exactly where he was. Survival of the Fittest. The collar chafed against his neck, a cold reminder. Coincidentally, he was one of the most avid watchers of the show. The penchant he had for analyzing people meant that SOTF was a perfect opportunity. Rummaging through the pack, he found his old dufflebag, and, a Red notebook, titled Survival of the Fittest. He'd been reading it over again, out of boredom, as he'd passed out on the bus. Morbid coincidence. Attached was a post-it note that read 'Ooh, a fan!' "Funny." Will uttered dryly. The book could come in handy. Having analysis on most of the past competitors meant that, knowing their mistakes, he could survive longer. Survive Longer? He thought. Going through his pack, he wondered where his weapon was. The one thing that would really help him outlast the rest, was a weapon. A gun, he hoped. Maybe a bomb. At the bottom of the pack, oddly enough, was a long, sheathed blade. "Or.. a big knife!" Big wasn't the word to describe it. It wasn't quite a Sword, but not a Machete or Kitchen-Knife Sized. The blade was about the length of his forearm to his middle finger, and the hilt had a guard over it. Possibly, it was used to parry attacks from a Sword, but he could only guess.

He overheard someone insulting... something. "...Fuck you Danya. Assjack." Christian! It was an insult he'd held with him since grade school, used jokingly between the two. Christian was a weird boy. Funny once you got to know him, too. "Doesn't that dickless bastard take enough verbal abuse already?" Will smiled slyly at him. "I'm glad to see you're okay, Christian." A chuckle escaped Christian's mouth as he turned around, glancing with a frightened look, at Will. 'Okay' was relative. A silence overtook the two, as the reality of their situation sunk in like the wet, spongy grass beneath their feet. They both eyed the collars around each-other's necks. "So we're really here, aren't we?" Christian finally answered. "I... don't think I could kill anybody. I dunno about you, but I'm about as violent as a mouse." The jump rope still hung from his hand. "I got a jump rope, what about you?" Will pulled the massive dagger from it's sheath at his side. It gleamed in the light. Will leaned on one of the graves. "I think... all we can do is play. Or at least defend ourselves as much as we can. It's better to stay in a group, but not a big one. We should probably find some others, well-armed would be nice. It sucks one of us didn't get a gun, or at least another big-assed knife. I've still got my little book of observations from the first and second games, that might help us a bit."

Though the 'us' part disturbed Will. Groups didn't last. In the end, they all split up, somehow. People in pairs would kill each other, eventually. And even if they did outlast everyone else, what then? One would have to die, to save the other. Or they would both die. Oh what a tangled web we weave. He heard Christian speak up, again. "It seems you've got some kind of plan in your head, Will." Plan?! "Why the hell would I have a plan in my head? I didn't plan to get abducted by a group of batshit-insane terrorists and be forced to kill my classmates, I didn't plan to have to make the choice of killing myself or my best friend, I didn't plan to-" Will stopped himself there. "Sorry Christian." More footsteps could be heard.

A large figure emerged from inside the dank Chapel, a very large sword in hand. A full-blown, medieval longsword. It made Will's dagger look pitiful. He could only hope that he was a pacifist. Will backed away slowly, but his fears were put to rest, when he saw his face; it was that pussy Jason Foley. You know, the one whose best friend was raped by the same son-of-a-bitch that you put away back in Iceland? Will breathed in a sigh of relief, the tropical air receding into his lungs afterwards. The third member of this ill-fated group.

The larger boy spoke, in a deeper voice than the other two. "H-hello." Jason managed to say. The jock wasn't usually a man of many words; there were days when he'd spilled his guts out to the first airhead that would listen, but usually he stayed pretty silent, unless talking to his nerd friends. As glad as he was to see other human beings, he was unhappy to see that it was Will Sigurbjornsson and his buddy Christian Rydell, the musical genius. Christian was an okay guy, but Will was a complete asshole. Arrogant, overly self-centered, and generally a dick. Still, it was better than nothing. He saw the huge dagger in Will's hand, and shoved the sword into the soft ground. "I'm not playing, Will." Jason certainly wouldn't. It was against his morals, his personality, everything he stood for. It certainly wasn't above what Will believed, though he didn't show it. Will slowly sheathed the dagger. "Welcome to our little group. We could use somebody with a half-decent weapon, Christian got a stretchy little jump rope, which isn't very good for... yeah, it isn't really great for anything at all. It's still better than nothing." He paused. "So, if you are going to come with us, now's the time. I don't think hanging out in one place is a good idea." Will coughed, and then stretched his fingers, cracking them.

Jason stared at the ground for a moment. You were just as likely to die if you were in a group as if you were alone, there's no way around that. Only one person was going to survive, unless the U.S. Millitary found the island before the competition was over. They were close last time, they might find it this time. He could only hope. Of course, if they did, the Terrorists would just be able to detonate all of the collars at once, right in front of their eyes, and there was nothing the Millitary or anyone else could do about it. "I might as well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

However, he wouldn't live to see any other part of the island past this graveyard, for a large figure emerged from one end of it, holding a small, slender object in his hand, he raised it, and an orange ball shot from the end, hitting Jason in the throat and knocking him over. He could barely breathe. Now, he saw the figure overpower and knock down Will Sigurbjornsson before he could even attempt to pull out his knife once more. The monster was laughing. Christian Rydell was mercilessly tossed into the old Chapel door, with a sickening crack. Now the figure walked over to Jason. He must've been close to seven feet tall, for he towered over him. However tall he was, Jason was still quite bulky, and quite strong. The 6'2 Defenseman got up and charged at him, knocking him down and landing several blows onto his face as he knocked the paintball gun away. He saw, it was Gabriel Theobaldt. He guessed that Gabriel would be one of those people playing the game. It was hard to tell through the chaos and confusion, and the fact that he'd cut his hair quite short, but there was nobody else it could be. But now Jason remembered one thing about him; Gabriel wasn't just tall, he was strong. Almost too strong, but for someone with a knee problem, but it certainly set things back in Gabriel's favor. The leviathan growled, and threw Jason back off of him, and then rose again, with some difficulty. Jason walked to attack him as he got up, but Gabriel backhanded Jason across the face, and then struck him on the side of the head again. Gabriel grabbed him again and shoved him into the wall. Oh God. He's going to kill me, isn't he?

"No!" Jason yelled hoarsely, landing a swift kick into Gabriel's midsection. Without a second thought, he pulled the sword from the dirt, plunging it into the prone Gabriel Theobaldt. Jason sighed and stepped back, then heard a noise from down below. Gabriel was chuckling. He should be dead, but... he laughed. All the bastard did was laugh. It was then Jason realized he hadn't stabbed him with the sword, simply drove it into the side of his shirt, pinning him to the ground. Gabriel spoke up to him, briefly. "You idiot." In an impressive display of stamina considering his condition, he got up again, and threw a hard, straight punch into Jason's face. He could see Gabriel raise the paintball gun, and shove it into Jason's own eye. The giant fired eleven rapid, agonizing shots into his eye before the gun ran out of ammunition. His eye was practically driven into his head. Orange paint dripped from his eye-socket. Jason collapsed, not uttering a word. He shuddered. The only thing he could hear was Gabriel's cold, insane voice.

"Well, what do you know? I managed to kill someone with a paintball gun! I didn't think that was possible. Of all the shit weapons there are, a Paintball gun is suprisingly useful! Too bad it only had twelve shots, or I might've shoved it down his throat and choked him to death with it. Wait... Oh shit, he's not dead."

The descision to play, for him, had came very lightly. Gabriel had wanted to be involved with the game ever since the first version of it. The thrill of the slaughter, the joy he felt at watching others suffer while he flourished... was the best feeling he knew. Gabriel envsioned, should he win, he would hope to have his own little 'game.' He could only imagine the amusement Danya got from watching these children kill each-other. At least I have a sword now! Gabriel looked up at the camera gleefully. "Time to be amused, Mr. Danya!" he cried loudly with crazed look in his eyes, and pulled the sword from the earth. In his left hand, he pulled the barely concious Jason Foley to his feet, and forced him against the wall of the Chapel. The sword shook in his right hand. He slid it quickly, deeply, across Jason's midsection; it tore open his stomach with a sickening squelching noise, followed by the eyes of Gabriel's victim widening. They were bloodshot, and showed within, a horrible, horrible pain. Of course, one didn't have to guess that he was in pain from the sheer amount of screaming he was doing. Wonderful. Gabriel dropped the sword. The screaming eventually became annoying, and Gabirel... shut him up... by using both hands to rip apart his jaw. Eager to proceed, Gabriel reached inside the wide wound in Jason's gut and disemboweled him. Jason's insides poured out of him amidst a flow of blood. It didn't spray out, it just fell, like a beautiful, morbid waterfall. Gabriel felt around inside, the soft organs tickling his arm, blood still flowing around it. Bone chafed against his hand. Finally he found exactly what he was looking for - the hurried beating of Jason's heart. The last heartbeat Jason would ever experience. The warmth of his body seemed to fall away as Gabriel gruesomely tore the vital organ from it's bounds inside Jason's chest as the boy let out one final cry for help, which he knew would never come. The heart stopped beating. Jason crumpled on the ground, in a mess with his own insides strewn about him, his thin shirt completely drenched in his own blood.

Gabriel himself was covered in blood. His right arm was completely drenched in gore, and his shirt was also blood-soaked. The dark red polo shirt he was wearing was now even darker, with a large cut in the side from the sword. He removed Jason's shirt, and used the back to wipe off excess blood from the sword, and then wiped most of the gore of off himself. Gabriel had a very happy, psychotic smile across his face. It appeared to be an insane cross between Charles Manson and the Cheyshire Cat. Looking down, he realized it may be a good idea to change afterwards, as the bloodstains may as well have been a bulls-eye on his chest. People would be looking for the killers. Righteous pricks. Gabriel wondered what had happened to Will and Christian, the other two who he'd overpowered beforehand. Christian lay against the Chapel door that he was thrown into, and Will was sprawled against a grave after being punched in the back of the head. Perfect, he thought, as he began to speak to the unconcious pair.

"Now, you two have been really great to me... Will, you helped me figure out exactly what I was dealing with in Dominica Shapiro. And Christian, you helped me find Will so I could do that. So, you know what? I think i'll let you two live. For now, anyways. Maybe you'll get popped off by good ol' Adam Dodd, or someone just as loony as he is. Maybe you'll just explode, who knows? Good luck, you stupid fucks." Gabriel searched through his pack, and found a small notepad and a pen. On it, he wrote "Good luck! -Gabriel Theobadlt : )" and tucked it into the Paintball gun's ammo container. He tossed it beside Christian Rydell, then picked up the sword, and his daypack. They hadn't let him keep his cane, but a sheathed sword was good enough. He then rummaged through for some supplies from Jason's daypack, taking his rations, flashlight, and anything else he could fit in. Giggling under his breath, he grabbed Jason's heart off of the ground. He looked at the heart, the same way he looked at a cookie he'd bought in a Starbucks some weeks before. "Who knows, I might get hungry later on..."

The smile on his face was replaced with a look of disgust, for even thinking of stooping to that level. Quickly, he turned around and limped off.

((Gabriel continued in Archangel))

Christian awoke, again. He felt like he was hit by a train. The thin boy was tossed effortlessly against a wall. A hard, stone wall. He looked up to see Will had already got up again, and was now staring at something on the other side of the corner of the Chapel. Christian noticed he had his dagger brandished. As he picked himself off of the all-too-familiar ground, he noticed a pool of blood forming on the corner of the wall. Christian turned the corner to see what Will was so shocked about. Jason Foley, the boy who had just came in from the Chapel, had been ripped to shreds, his organs torn from his chest. Blood was everywhere. There was a clear hole where it looked like something had reached inside and pulled his organs out. Christian heard Will say something, but was too stunned to make it out. Whoever had done this had left Christian and Will alive, or they wouldn't be standing there. Christian noticed what looked like a paintball gun near his feet. He picked it up. It WAS a paintball gun, but with no paintballs. Instead, there was a small note inside. He tapped Will on the shoulder. Will looked over at it with the same terrified expression he had before. "It says 'good luck!' from Gabriel Theobaldt. Shit... I always thought there was something wrong with that guy. He must have killed Jason and took his sword; i'd bet he was issued this paintball gun. It's probably why Jason hadn't cut him in half. Poor g-gu- fuck.." Christian leaned over and threw up, and wondered why Will wasn't as sick to his stomach as he was. Christian was one of the only people to know that Will had witnessed death before, but he didn't think he'd seen anything this... brutal.
Will swore loudly. He knew that things on this island were going to get bad, very fast. But now it really sank into his mind that he was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. A tear dropped down his light face, and he took off his glasses, and leaned against the wall. Without looking up, he muttered "Should we bury him? It is a cemetery, there's probably an open grave, or something... I'm sure he was pretty deeply religious, he would've wanted to be buried. We could at least give him some dignity." Dignity, hmm? Like the dignity that bastard stole from your mother when he raped her, and beat your father's head in?

Christian only stood there, staring at Jason's blank, bloodied eyes. That might be him quite soon. Christian would want to be buried if it were him lying there, with his stomach ripped open. "Yeah... we should bury him. I think I saw a dug-out grave back there, we could put him in there." Christian didn't have to say that twice, and he'd already reached for Jason's legs as he spoke.

The two half-dragged, half-carried Jason to the grave, and they covered him in what looked like a blanket that was in his pack. It might've been a gift from someone. The eerie, two-man funeral procession stopped, and they gently dropped him into the grave. They stared, again, at the body in the grave, his eyes now closed.

"I was such an asshole to that guy, and now that he's dead... I feel awful. I thought i'd just detatch myself to this like I usually do with these tragedies... but this is now, damnit! These are people we know, our friends! They're dying, and what can we do? We say we're going to do all it takes to survive, but if that takes murdering our peers, never to see their families again... I don't know if I want to survive after all of this. I guess... if it takes lasting just a little longer to stop people like Gabriel Theobaldt, and all the others playing the game, then maybe it is worth it, if not for that second when you can strangle the fuckers to death. I know what it's like to lose the only people who really love and care about you. It... sucks."

The wind blew against Will's face, knocking strands of his light, blonde hair across his light face. "That's going to happen to hundreds of families, but damnit... it isn't happening to yours, buddy."

He anxiously looked over at Christian. The other boy knew that Will, as much of an asshole as he was to most people, trusted Christian, and he'd protect him no matter the cost to himself. Even if it meant killing as many people that got in the way. The two were like brothers, but Christian wouldn't stand by and let Will kill himself. They both knew what the other was thinking. "It won't come to that, Will. All I want to do is stop that big bastard from brutalizing anyone else... and I want to go home. If we make it to the end... then... we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Wordlessly, Will filled the grave with a old, rusty shovel. It took a few minutes, but eventually, it was done. Will brushed himself off, and held out the shovel. "Christian, take the ...spade? Yeah, that's it. You might be able to use it as a weapon..." Will spoke too soon, as the head of the shovel broke and fell off. "Maybe not. Take the handle, anyways. It's better than an empty paintball gun." Christian took the long, wooden handle from Will, and waved a goodbye to the grave. "Later man. Let's get outta here Will." Clearly shaken, the two walked away from the graveyard, and away from the mess that Gabriel left. His note drifted off of the ground, and landed on Jason's grave. The stone above it had no name.

Only the wind and distant screams broke the silence.

B15 JASON FOLEY - DEAD

((Will continued in How the Stars Have Fallen...))
((Christian continued in How the Stars Have Fallen...))