SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

Diego looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe it wasn't even that, maybe it was just that he couldn't fathom who would even have a remotely kind word for him, after all that he'd done. Perhaps he was just another in a long line of kids who turned into rabid animals while in Survival of the Fittest, any normal-sounding noise causing them to freeze and laser-focus on its source. In this instance, he would have been right to do so. The more he looked across the area at his friend's killer, the more the fire burned within his heart. Whatever he'd have to do in order to make things right, so be it. Aurelien had his white whale, and Morgan had his.

Speaking of, Aurelien had paused at the identification, taking a final moment from his own rage to meet his eyes and nod. There was nothing that needed to be said, it was a silent acknowledgement between friends of what had to be done. They had divergent paths from here on out; only fate would take care of them now. Morgan knew that he likely wouldn't see Aurelien again. At the nod, he returned it, giving his friend a sad but genuine smile. It spoke for itself, but as he couldn't help his own nature, his mouth had to have its own final moment.

"To the end," he whispered.

Here they were.

Aurelien pulled the bandana over his face and turned away from Morgan, heading towards whatever end was upcoming. Whether for Blaise or for Aurelien, one of the two would not survive the next hour; of that he was certain. It was no longer his concern, his path lay in a different direction. Glancing down at the pistol in his hand, he thumbed the safety off.

It was time.

"Diego, buddy" he raised his head, not even trying to hide the insincerity in his voice, "we need to have a little chat."

Whatever alarm bells were going off in Diego's mind were well-warranted, the small boy was visibly backing up. A simple chat was most certainly not on the menu. His gun was out; the element of surprise was gone. If Morgan went after him, there would be bloodshed and there would almost certainly be pain. This was a battle that he was probably not going to win, if he were being honest with himself.

Oh well, fuck it.

For Henry.

"Henry Sparks was a friend of mine," Morgan started to walk after Diego, starting to pick up speed, "and he asked me to give you a message, since he couldn't!"

The smile never dropped from his face as he raised his arm and pointed the gun at Diego. Without breaking stride, he squeezed the trigger and fired two shots in Diego's general direction. If they had hit him, things would be easy — miraculous, really — but Morgan wasn't much of a shot. The bullets failed to find anything but tree bark, but the message was loud and clear.

Henry was loved, just like Michael and Lizzie and everyone before them and Diego was going to pay.

Gunshots still echoing through the garden, Morgan let out a primal yell and ran at his prey. It was not the cry of a victim. No longer.

It was the cry of a hunter.

((Morgan Dragosavich concluded in The Ultimate Test of Cerebral Fitness))

This was happening. It was really, really happening. The dead were coming to collect their debt. Henry’s name was invoked, Diego could imagine his smug face smiling over all this.

So be it.

He flinched for a moment, yanked his head sideways a moment, and caught the bench in his peripheral vision.

Put in the work. Lean into it. Put in the work. Lean into it.

This is what it meant to live. Diego had made his choices, and now he had to face his consequences, whether he liked it or not.

Right before he turned and ran, he finally registered the other person in the garden as Blaise. His grip tightened on the gun. Aurelien looked to be collecting Marceline’s debt for her, and Diego had someone else to worry about. She’d understand.

He fired off two, three shots in Morgan’s direction. He didn’t fall, they didn’t hit, but they gave Morgan pause, gave Diego time. And he ran.

((Diego Larrosa continues in The Ultimate Test of Cerebral Fitness))

There were noises behind Aurelien. Words spoken, gunshots fired, animalistic roars of vengeance and desperation. He heard them, but didn’t look back. He didn’t stop moving forwards. It all mattered; everything that happened on this island mattered. It all affected someone, it all had repercussions that rippled across their prison and touched everyone present in some way, shape, or form.

But now that Morgan had stepped out of their bubble, it was just Aurelien and Blaise left remaining, and nothing outside of it could matter to him anymore. He had a single, unshakeable focus. Everything had led to this one moment.

He took a long, deep breath in, breathing in the harsh scent of blood, letting it fill his veins, cloud his mind, fuel him, power the unstoppable locomotion of his body charging forwards.

There were two people heading into this temple. No matter what happened within, there was no way that both of them would be returning.

((Aurelien Valter continued in You’ll Never Walk Alone))