SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

Stephanie actually took a look at Lorenzo now and oh, Jesus Christ. Where had he been? Just walking in all bloody as if it were no big deal holding some club in his hand. And what the hell up was with his chest? Who put spikes in their nipples? She just stared at both Lorenzo and Gervais while Diego explained what was up with the corpse and Lorenzo actually did something sensible and asked if he could change his clothes.

"Sure, just make sure you're covered up properly." Seriously, nipple piercings? She then turned to Gervais, and pondered his other question.

"Okay so. Seriously. What is going on?"

"Well, other than us taking shelter here, and the corpse? I mean, nothing much, other than the obvious facts. We're on Survival of the Fittest, people are killing each other, and we're just trying to survive." That came out sounding much more blasé than she thought it did. Was that bad?

Diego almost looked away when Lorenzo grinned back at him. He noticed. He knew. His gaze stayed locked with his, but almost unwillingly, out of inertia, stubbornness.

Lorenzo was like him, too. It shouldn't have scared Diego that he knew, but it felt like an intrusion.

When it came up as a topic among female friends in his circles, the male gaze would often be described as intrusive. Violating. With this in mind, whenever a man had caught Diego's eye, he had always limited himself to three seconds. That, and no more, despite his desperate wish for the image to imprint itself on the back of his eyelids. Three seconds, so no one could accuse him of intruding, so no one could accuse him of lingering, trespassing any more than he deserved. Three seconds, and his gaze would retreat back into itself, hidden, as it should be.

Lorenzo looked back, and it felt like an intrusion, and he wondered if this was what every man felt like every time he looked at them, if three seconds was too much, if he should simply never look at anyone and anything ever again and retreat in on himself permanently.

He blinked. But his gaze stayed until Lorenzo's left, and then he was left feeling abandoned anyways.

Gervais and Lorenzo asked questions, Stephanie answered both, and both answers rubbed Diego the wrong way.

For a brief second, he hated Stephanie for answering that way, because he wanted to see more of Lorenzo. But the second passed, and he remembered to be a decent person, to retreat into himself, and so he nodded, said to him without looking "Yeah, whatever, it's fine." Diego remembered that he had to change too, but his bags were soaked through, there was nothing left to change into for the night. The hum of an air-conditioner, goosebumps, isolation came into mind, and then left.

There was also how she replied to Gervais, and what Gervais asked in the first place.

He'd thought Stephanie's reply completely missed the point, at first. Stating the obvious, what could be and what was best left unsaid. It was raining at the moment, there were four people in the temple as far as they knew, and they were on Survival of the Fittest. Basic facts. But, Gervais seemed different. Dazed, subdued. Less of a dick than usual. Lost.

"We were just starting to check out this place when you came along. That's it," Diego answered anyways, in case that's what Gervais meant to ask.

And then a few seconds later came "You alright?"

No, there wasn't anything alright. Even beside the obvious.

Survival of the Fittest.

Hm.

The Fittest.

Gervais didn't feel that fit.

"I think... I just wanna rest or..."

He trailed the sentence off to nowhere. It felt weird, saying something like he wanted to sleep if that was something that he had already done that day. Then it occurred to him that it how sleep works. You do it twice per day. No, to be frank with himself, Gervais knew that he'd close his eyes and then he'd never wake anymore. Not right that moment in the church with the other people. But definitely at some point.

Now that he wasn't held up at shovel-point anymore, Gervais found himself in the corner of the room, his head slumped against the bag. He ignored the corpse in the middle. The elephant in the room. He supposed he was supposed to recognize the body, but there wasn't much recognizing you could do with that. So he didn't think about that. He tried to not think about the three guys next to him either. Didn't feel right, thinking about them. Felt like thinking something naughty and sensual. Didn't make sense, of course. But he didn't dwell on the points of not thinking too long.

"Gervais."







He muttered to himself once more. That was a dangerous name. Maybe he should have chosen another.







Then he closed his eyes.

“No problem.”

Lorenzo chuckled in response to Stephanie’s request. Even he wasn’t enough of an exhibitionist to just let it all out there for the world to see. Really, he just wanted to peel off his jeans and get into something relatively dry. The others attention had turned to Gervais now, so Lorenzo took the opportunity to begin his process. Unzipping his bag, Lorenzo dug around the contents, searching for something that wasn’t completely soaked through. Luckily, most of his extra clothing had been able to avoid the wetness. Lorenzo pulled a pair of mesh shorts from the beg. He frowned as he looked at them. They were the same pair he’d been wearing when he and Tyrell had talked that morning on the balcony. That felt so long ago now.

When everything between them went so horribly wrong.

He stuffed them back into the bag and pulled out a pair of dark-wash cutoff jeans. Those would do for now. Along with those he grabbed a fresh pair of green underwear. He also pulled a maroon flowing tank top and placed it to the side on top of the jeans. It was still hot, but the night and the rain had cooled the temperature down considerably. Besides, he was tired of looking at the discolored bruising that stained his midsection. The pain was still there, even after almost a day and a half, but he was dealing with it as best he could. The painkillers in his med kit had been lifesavers on that end. Almost literally.

Standing up from his crouched position in front of the bag, Lorenzo unzipped his boots on the way up and kicked them both off his tired feet. His socks were about as soaked through as the rest of him. He’d have to change those as well. Lorenzo unhooked the sheath for the maul from his waist and let it drop beside his bag. He then unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them down his body. The wet denim was stuck to him like a second skin, so it wasn’t the easiest process. When he got to the wound on his thigh he tried to be as careful as possible to the the jeans around it. The gash still stung something horrible, and he didn’t want to aggravate it and make it start bleeding all over again. Eventually he was able to pull the wet jeans completely off and tossed them to the side in a heap. Now almost completely naked he stripped the wet briefs he wore off and switched them out from the dry ones quickly.

Lorenzo changed the dressing on his thigh wound before he continued to change. When he looked at the scabbing flesh he grimaced slightly. His mind began to wander back to the girl who’d given him the wound and he shut it from his mind as fast as it came. He didn’t want to think about her right now. Not ever, if he was being honest. With the wound re-dressed, Lorenzo pulled on the fresh pair of cutoffs, wincing as they rubbed against his thigh. He sat down on the ground and switched his wet socks for a fresh pair, pulling his boots back on over them. He threw the shirt over his torso with some difficulty, his sides aching and his shoulder wound making it difficult to raise his arm fully. He sighed when he was fully dressed and fell back against the wall behind him. He reached for his weapon and clipped it to his waist again.

He didn’t want anyone to get any ideas of robbing him of it in his sleep.

Ignoring the others around him, Lorenzo made himself comfortable and tucked his head into his chest. The exhaustion that ran through his body caught up to him like a speeding train, and before he knew it, sleep overtook him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lorenzo shuffled and groaned from his position as he groggily awoke in the early morning. He pried his eyes open, and saw the bright sunlight peeking into the temple from the outside. He stretched as best he could and groaned again as the pain from his sides shot directly to his brain. What a wake up call. His mouth felt about as dry as a desert, so he reached over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of water, chugging back some of the lukewarm fluid and peering at his surroundings. From his position he couldn’t see the others. His eyes opened wide and his hand flew to his side, landing on his maul. He sighed, thankful the weapon was still there.

Digging into his bag a second time, Lorenzo pulled his pack of cigarettes from the shirt they’d been wrapped in alongside his lighter. Thankfully the rain hadn’t deprived him of them. He only had eight left now. He was rationing them as best he could. He pulled one out and lit it up before wrapping the pack again and stashing it in his bag. He sighed in contentment as he took a long drag of the stick, relishing in the flavor.

He took another pull and stood himself up, walking to the entrance of the temple to see that the rain hadn’t let up.

“Still fucking alive...” he muttered, blowing his smoke out into the rain.

And that was it. Gervais went and laid down. Lorenzo went off to put some better clothes on. Stephanie just lay down away from the corpse. She felt ... dirty. Like she just wanted to take the longest bath ever and then find the perfect outfit and perfume for doing, well, nothing at all. She just thought of a nice hot bath as her eyes eventually closed and she dreamed about better times.

Warm bath, new clothes, nice bed, beautiful girlfriend ...

And all was well for the night back in Chattanooga. She had returned home with little incident (momentary flight delay and lipstick smudge notwithstanding), hugged Mum and Dad, kissed Jessica goodbye. At least here, she could relax.

She opened her eyes. It was morning, and she smelled like she hadn't showered in, oh yeah.

Taptaptap.

Still raining. She rolled her eyes. Couldn't even get a change of clothes without at least one pair of eyes going over her without permission. Stephanie just sighed. This was going to be another long day.

Make sure you're covered up, Stephanie had said.

No problem, Lorenzo said as he obliged, then didn't.

Diego stared off into space, away from Lorenzo. He strained to hear, beneath the drip-drop of rain on the roof, the shuffling sounds of fabric on fabric, denim sticking, sliding past, off skin.

He wanted to look. He wanted to watch, intimately, every second. He wanted to see, intimately, every second of Lorenzo, especially right then, right there.

If it were only a glimpse, just a quick turn towards, then away, would he notice? Would anyone notice?

A glimpse was less than three seconds. Momentary. Just a step into someone else's door, and then a step out, followed by an apology if noticed, needed.

If anyone noticed, asked, Diego could say that he thought he heard a noise.

He shouldn't look. He wasn't supposed to. Stephanie was also here. Gervais was also here. The cameras were also here. And out of everyone watching, there were bound to be a few people who would notice that glimpse, and then Diego would be exposed, stripped down.

Clothes shuffled in the background.

Diego looked, then didn't. Lorenzo had a shirt on. The moment was over. His pants had tightened, and then they didn't.

He became distinctly aware of the fabric sticking to him, the air weighing over him. He felt gross. Disgusting. But there was no escape, nothing to change into. So, he just settled in for the night and laid his head on the bag. He tossed and turned for a few minutes, letting his thoughts run wild with what-if's, and then, after everything, despite everything, he went to sleep.

---

Diego woke up well after the others. The speakers turning on had begun lifting him out of slumber, and the first couple of names dropped him back into the world. Shame. He couldn't remember the specifics, but he had dreamed of the ocean, his mother in the ocean, his sister, and being back in high school. It had been a nice dream, and now it wasn't.

He sat up, struggling to keep his eyes open, struggling to listen, up until they mentioned Lorenzo's name. And he was still here, with them.

He turned around, eyes open but pokerfaced otherwise, waiting to see what would happen next.

Lorenzo allowed himself a bit of a reprieve as he stood at the entrance to the temple, watching the rain fall on the morning as he slowly smoked his cigarette. The temple was high up the cliff, so from here Lorenzo’s view of the island was honestly quite spectacular, even as the rain continued its assault. The colors of the island were dulled by the constant downpour of rain, but even still, in his wildest dreams Lorenzo never thought he would find himself in a place so absolutely breathtaking. It was looking out over a painting, the sheer beauty almost surreal. Of course, knowing why he was here put a damper on such an outlook. But, at least in this moment, Lorenzo simply wanted to enjoy the island for what it was, before he had to go back to his fight for survival.

He could have that at least, right?

There was some light shuffling behind him, signalling him to the waking of the others who’d sought refuge in the temple. Lorenzo didn’t bother to turn to greet the newly awoken, he simlp stood at the doorway and continued his smoke. At the end of the day, everyone on this island was his enemy. They stood in his way of returning home. Returning to the people he truly cared about. He had no reason to care for their well beings. Whether by his hand or by the hand of another of their former classmates, Lorenzo knew eventually all of them would have to die. That was the only way for him to go home.

It was the only choice that made any sense.

He felt his hands begin to shake a bit. Even still, his body was less willing than his mind. His night was once more tortured by dreams of Sapphire and his hands stained red with blood. There was no running from what he’d done. But he was a monster even before he was trapped in this arena. That much he knew. Monsters will be monsters, right? No room for hesitation. He took a long last pull from his cigarette before flicking the butt of it out into the downpour. His eyes followed the small object as sit sailed through the air and landed in a puddle that had formed nearby.

He’d already decided. He’d already hurt someone. Now he had to be ready for the next step.

Kill or be killed.

He felt a lurch in his chest at the thought. It was as if his body itself rejected the very idea. He almost laughed. To think he still had this much humanity left after what he’d done. What he was doing. What he told himself he’d have to do. It was a sick joke being played by whatever evil god was out there pulling the strings of their lives along.

Speak of the devil.

Again, for the second time in as many days, speakers hidden around the island sparked to life and a droll man’s voice poured forth from them. Lorenzo’s brow furrowed. The man sounded so self-satisfied with what he was doing to them. So calm, so cool. As if none of them had mattered. Just names on a piece of paper. Just horses in a race. The first names on the list were shocking. Mikk Swift was dead and gone. Lorenzo’s mind flashed to Andy for a moment, but he shook it from his thoughts just as quickly. Andy left him for dead. Andy was not his friend. Not here. The three who died beside Mikki were of little consequence to Lorenzo. He knew them, but not well enough to be sad or frustrated of any emotion over their untimely deaths. But the next name hit him in the chest like an eighteen wheeler driving 110 down the highway.

No…

She was already dead… this whole time. Fuck. He knew, of course he did. That wound had been ugly and awful. So he knew, but it was easy to pretend everything was still fine. That he hadn’t been the one to take the final blow. That maybe she’d survived long enough for another to take her out of her misery. Once again, all Lorenzo could remember was her eyes. Those eyes staring directly into his soul as she judged the darkness in his heart. Eyes demanding a reason why. Why? Eyes screaming at him for the rest of his life, because he knew they would never let him escape.

Tears.

Of sadness? Frustration? Fear of crossing a line he never expected to? He wasn’t sure. But nonetheless, there were tears and awful feelings and pain that burned through his chest and squeezed at his heart so hard that it made it hard for him to breathe properly. Everything everyone had been saying was true. Tyrell was right. He was a beast. A monster. He’d done it. He’d taken a life. Killed another person in cold blood. There was no denying it now. The whole world would know. Lorenzo Tavares was a murderer. A monster who would do whatever it took to win.

A croak spilled from his lips as he began to laugh out loud. A laugh filled with bitterness and pain but a laugh nonetheless. He couldn’t help himself. He spun around to look at the three behind him, staring at him, watching him with eyes that told him they were afraid. A killer in their midst. The smile on his face was broken, the tears still spilling from his eyes as he laughed and smiled and walked over to his bag. He swung the strap over his shoulder and turned to face his erstwhile companions for the night.

“You heard right?” He asked, his voice cracking from the dryness that had begun to take root in his throat and mouth.

“I did it. I killed her. Cut her open with this.” He grabbed the handle of the maul and took it from its sheath, brandishing it for all the others to see.

“I was defending myself! She attacked me too! But I fucking killed her! You heard! I killed that red-headed bitch!” He was screaming now. He couldn’t control his voice.

“Maybe I should kill you all too?” The question hung in the air for a moment, but Lorenzo let the maul fall down and drag along the ground as he walked away from them. The tears were still falling. He was still laughing.

Or was he sobbing?

He wasn’t sure.

He kept on walking, never looking back to see if any of the others tried to stop him. Why would they? There is no room for monsters with regular people. Lorenzo walked out into the rain, and away from the temple, his tears mixing with the sky’s until you couldn’t tell them apart any more.


[Lorenzo Tavares Continued In Heeling of the USS Dekcuc]

The night had been a bad one for Gervais. Using these words was like describing cancer as a 'bit worse than the flu' because Gervais felt like shit.

His first thought as he opened his eyes weren't about himself, or the beginning of the tin-sounding speaker around him or that other people. It was about the ceiling above him. He stared at it, and hoped for a bit of it to break off and smash his goddamn head in.

It wouldn't be, Gervais wasn't possible of willing walls down or anything like that.

It took took him a surprisingly long time to understand what the speaker was actually saying. People were killing people, and even though he somehow knew he should have cared, Gervais told himself to shut the feelings. There weren't too fond anyway.

"Okay, so that was weird right?"

He said, and meant greenboy storming off. Gervais shuffled uncomfortably around.

"It was."

Diego watched as Lorenzo receded into the distance. His hair almost blended in with the foliage in the horizon. It looked nice. The horizon, he meant. It's how he imagined his mother's hometown looked like.

Maybe I should kill you all? Lorenzo asked. But he hadn't. He'd spent the night with them, and all of them were unharmed, relatively speaking. Diego slung his bags around his shoulder, took hold of his shovel, and they all felt as heavy today as they did last night, the shovel especially.

That should change soon, he decided. And it wouldn't unless he decided now.

He had to work towards a future, any future, he told himself the night before last night. And it wouldn't be found staying here with Gervais, with Stephanie. In looking around at those two, his eyes caught a glimpse of the corpse—Chris, neck gaping, bleeding out on the pier—and it provided another reason for not staying here. Staying here would be easy, but staying here would be inertia. Someone had to provide that push home. Someone had to teach him the ways of this island. There had been hesitation, when Gervais came last night. That shovel had felt so heavy, so uncertain, in his hands. Someone had to make it lighter, easier in his hands.

And that someone was walking away, right now.

There might be more stable people on this island who knew those ways. People who could better teach him, people that were lesser risks. But Diego didn't know who they were, or where they were. He only knew Lorenzo. He only wanted Lorenzo.

"I gotta stop him. Don't follow," he mumbled. More to satisfy the natural need for reasons, than to provide an actual answer.

He was supposed to say more, for Stephanie, at least. Some sort of repayment, for accompanying his misery, and all. It felt wrong to end two days of sticking together so suddenly, but Diego could see his last chance slipping away, shrinking in the distance.

He turned to Stephanie, said, "I hope you find Jessica soon, I really do. See you when I see you." It felt insufficient, but that was all he could offer at the moment. And then he briskly walked into the rain.

He looked back once, more to see if they would follow, or what their reactions would be. Instead of taking note of that, he saw the ocean, stretching behind it. Ever-present. The rain still felt so cold, so unforgiving, so smothering, but the ocean was a good sign. If he ever needed it, it would always be there, just around the corner.

Knowing this, he set off, and kept Lorenzo within his sights.

((Diego Larrosa continues in no one round here's good at keeping their eyes closed))

Lorenzo had killed someone. Sapphire. "Self-defense" he called it. Sure it was. One could really call it self-defense when brandishing a huge-arse hammer around while laughing. It was a good thing that he left, since a laughing boy with hammer was likely to result in someone dying. Gervais was weirded out, which was slightly more than what should be felt at that. Stephanie was starting to feel scared, repulsed and even dirtier than what she had been.

Diego went after him. Even asked her not to follow.

"I hope you find Jessica soon, I really do. See you when I see you." Stephanie stood up as he walked off after Lorenzo, armed with nothing but a shovel. She looked down.

"I'll see you too, hopefully." She turned to Gervais. "Coming? I hear the ..." Stephanie looked for the words to say.

((Stephanie McDonald continued in Raw Deal))

Damn, he felt like a woman being left before she got breakfast for her lover.

What's it with all those people dramatically storming off? Leaving him to lay down there in pain as if it was nothing?

Gervais tried to move. He did, of course, managed to pace around. But something psychologically was holding him back. He could use some coffee.

He wouldn't get any here either.

[[Gervais continued elsewhere]]