Lonesome

[Grim Wolf]

(Tyler Lucas continued from The Crazy Kids)

Lizzy kept a heavy pace, and though Tyler caught glimpses of her in the distance, he never caught up with her.  It didn't seem to bother him much.  He reached a hill, watched her weaving her way out, then shrugged and headed in a different direction.

But his wandering course didn't take him into anyone's course.  And as the day wore on, a storm gathered on his face, heavy clouds shrouding him in anger.  He seemed to carry a thunderous wake with him wherever he went, until night gathered and his eyes began to droop.  He collapsed beneath the shelter of a tree before the sun had quite set, and awoke only as the droning of the announcements tapered off.  He blinked, stared at a nearby speaker with an expression of concern, then shrugged and began to take care of himself, changing out the bandage on his arm and nibbling on his dwindling supplies of food and water.  But soon after he was off and moving again, the storm around him quieted but not quite gone.

And as time wore on his movements seemed to get heavier and heavier, as beads of sweat rolled down and past his gritted teeth.  It wasn't long into the morning when he found himself slumping into a bench on the side of a pond.

[BROseidon†]

((Virgil Jefferson-Davis, continued from Miles Behind Us))

Virgil was really shitty at this "get everyone to lay down their arms" thing.

He was still kicking himself for not catching Mara. There was zero reason for her to get away, and yet she did. Fate must have been one powerful motherfucker to be able to compensate for a 100 pound or so differential between the two of them.

Virgil spent the rest of the day on his quest to find people, only to fail. Again. He hadn't done jack shit. So he went to sleep, and 6 hours later, was on his way again.

He needed to find people.

He needed to get the fighting to stop.

It was the only victory left.

He'd lost track of where he was going at this point. The terrorists were obviously trying to corral them. More and more places on the periphery of the island were being made permanently danger zones. It should be easier to find people, but he'd rather their collars get blown sooner rather than later. It'd be a more emphatic point, and it'd be hard to get people to stop fighting when the odds of going home were better.

More people had died. He'd known most of them, and the killers as well. Cammy was dead. Virgil felt a pang of guilt; maybe if he'd convinced her to come with them before, she'd still be alive. Then again, he'd failed to protect Michelle and Gwen. She probably would have died with him, too.

Virgil was walking along the shore of the pond when he saw a figure sitting in the distance. Large. Not too many guys that big left. Maybe it was Cody? As Virgil approached, he saw it was Tyler. Virgil never liked Tyler much, and he'd also killed somebody.

Maybe it'd been an accident. He needed to be careful though.

Virgil dropped his bag when he was about 10 meters out from Tyler. He held his gun tight in his hand, ready to draw it if Tyler tried anything funny.

"Hey Tyler." Virgil paused, he didn't quite know how to approach the situation.

"Let's have a chat."

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler, sitting on the edge of the bench, turned with glacial slowness to sweep tired eyes over Virgil's face.  He didn't lift his gun.  "Talk," he said, his mouth thick with disgust.  "Lotta fuckin' people want to talk.  Don't know why."  He sighed.  "We've been playin' long enough to know better."

He kept his eyes on Virgil, but they seemed vague, not quite looking at him.  

"You wanna talk?" he said.  "Talk."

[BROseidon†]

Virgil didn't like Tyler's attitude. Never had. The guy was an asshole, plain and simple. Virgil got his aggression out on the pitch; he could never figure out why Tyler couldn't do the same.

He could have walked away, not had to have this interaction. It wasn't going to be a pleasant one. At best, probably would amount to nothing. At worst, one of them would end up dead.

Then again, he couldn't back down now. He could hear Michelle's voice admonishing him already.

"I'm trying to get this to stop. Call the bluff on the terrorists, make them either blow our collars or let us go. So far, most people seem pretty all right with not killing, even if those numbers are dwindling..."

Virgil paused for a second before nodding his head towards his gun.

"And I have a way to stop those that don't want in. Do I have your word that you aren't gonna kill again?"

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler's vague gaze sharpened in an instant, took in Virgil.  His dark eyes seemed almost to expand, burning with an intensity quite at odds with his earlier apathy.

"What a fuckin' hypocrite," he spat.

He rose slowly, letting his gun come into view without lifting it towards Virgil.  "Met a girl yesterday," Tyler said.  "Been hiding, been afraid, wanted us to stop playing.  But she had her priorities straight.  She knew what she fuckin' wanted, knew what she was askin'.  Gotta respect that."

His tone got a little wistful, but his eyes kept burning at Virgil.

"Don't play, or I'll kill you?" he repeated, as his lips unfolded into a ghastly grin.  "That make any kind of fuckin' sense to you, Virge?  We're all playing.  Don't act like you're any better than them."  He reached up and tapped the collar on his neck with his injured arm.  "They've already got a gun to our head, Virge.  Better gun than yours.  Plus, we've got guns, too.  You get in our way, we can do something about it."

[BROseidon†]

"Yeah, it does make sense," Virgil responded. In a way, Tyler was right. Kill in order to prevent killing. It was a bizarre concept, but it was clearly the only thing that could work at this point. There were people set on killing, on going home. They had to be stopped before this could all be over.

"You're wrong in your assumption that we're all playing. I don't care about the collar, about they fact they can blow it. That's the point, make them kill us so that they can't make their stupid point about human nature, or whatever the fuck reason they do this for." In retrospect, Virgil had never really thought of the purpose of all of this. He kind of assumed social commentary of some kind, but hadn't bothered piecing it together. "You don't have to follow their rules."

Virgil had tensed up at Tyler referring to his own gun, His grip around the body of the gun tightened as he pulled the safety with his right index finger. He needed to be careful.

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler laughed, but it was a jagged sound, crackling like broken glass underfoot.  "Rules?" he repeated.  "Fuckin' hell, Virge, you think there's a playbook here?  You thinkin' of this as a game?"  Still his dark eyes burned above the faded white bandages still on his face.  

"This ain't a field, man," Tyler said.  "This is juvie.  This is prison.  They're the warden, and the guards, and the executioner, and every one of us is on death row."  He spat to one side.  "In prison, you don't get to just walk out.  You're playing by their system, even if you don't like it.  We're all in it, man.  We're in their fuckin' world, and we're playing by their fuckin' rules.  Whether we're fighting each other, or them."

His eyes burned with still more violence.  "You want to be MLK, fine," he said.  "You want to be fuckin' Malcolm X and bring the pain, fine.  But you don't get to have it both ways.  You're either makin' your point or you're playing the game, but don't expect us to play by your bullshit rules.  We got our own ideas."

[BROseidon†]

Tyler was getting angrier as he spoke. Virgil could hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. His grip on his gun tightened, and he took a small step back before adjusting his weight forward a bit. He had to be ready if Tyler made a sudden move.

"You're wrong, Tyler. This isn't prison, and it's not a game. It's a colosseum, and we're the gladiators," Virgil responded. "And you can call me Spartacus."

Tyler's point about MLK and Malcolm X resonated with him for a second, before he could formulate a response. "Why can't I be both? It's been done before. You ever hear of ACT UP? They did a pretty damn good job of it."

[Grim Wolf]

At the word "gladiators," Tyler's mouth unfolded into a jagged grin, and his laugh was a little richer this time, a little darker.  The intensity of his eyes didn't quite diminish, but they lost a bit of their glaring fire.

"You fuckin' got it, Virge," he said.  "Gladiators.  Told Garrett that the first fuckin' day we got here."  His grin widened.  "And you're our fuckin' Spartacus, huh?  Gonna set us free?  Ain't you forgettin' somethin', Virge?"  His grin widened still further, took on a faint sheen of predatory malice.  "He lost," Tyler said.  "Got killed, with all the other fuckin' slaves.  And the games kept goin', man."

His grin softened a little.  "But if you think you can do it, Virge, fuckin' do it," he said.  "Be Spartacus.  Fuck their shit up.  And if that doesn't work for you, man, be the fuckin' Punisher, and start takin' an eye for an eye from any bastard you want.  But you're playing either way, and you don't get to think otherwise."  The grin faded, but there was still a trace of good humor on Tyler's face.  "You're not gonna win, Virge," he said.  "And we're not gonna waste time tryin'.  Got too few hours left to waste any of'em.  I got my own shit to do."

But then all at once the good humor vanished, leaving only brooding anger in its place.  "Which reminds me," he said.  "You seen Travis Webster around?"

[BROseidon†]

Tyler got the gladiator metaphor. That was good, it was common ground.

But Tyler was also right that he was no Spartacus. Spartacus tried to set everyone free. Virgil wanted to condemn them all.

Maybe he should think through his metaphors a bit better.

He snorted at the mention of Travis. Virgil had seen him on what, the third day? It felt like ages ago. That had also been when he'd seen Cammy last, pointing her crossbow at him. He had to keep it together; he couldn't snap. Still, knowing that he'd never see her again...

Travis had gone on to kill a few times. Virgil couldn't remember who, but he'd been unsurprised by the guy's appearance as a killer. He was the sort of dumb, greedy asshole who'd try to kill his way out of this whole mess. Virgil couldn't respect that. Tyler didn't seem to like it either. The cogs turned in Virgil's head as he formulated a plan.

"I saw him on like the second or third day, way back at the shipping yard. He's on the list of people I'm looking for, too."

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler nodded.  "You should be," Tyler said.  "He ain't a fuckin' gladiator or Spartacus.  That fucker's playin' to win."  His eyes darkened.  "Reason Cassidy's dead," he grunted, shifting his eyes off to one side.  "Fucker used her as a shield."

[BROseidon†]

"Wanna look for him together? Having support would be nice for taking him down."

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler blinked at Virgil, and his grin slowly unfolded again.  "Team-up, huh," he said.  "Could be good.  Could do some damage."  His grin flickered a little, and his eyes met Virgil's head-on, holding his gaze.  "You might not want me, Virge," he said.  "I ain't aimin' to be Spartacus.  I'm playing the game by my rules, and they sure as shit ain't yours."  The grin widened again.  "More fun, though."

But all at once the grin went out, and there was a deadly threat in those eyes.  "I'm gonna play it my way," he said.  "You get guys to play it yours, good for you.  But if you try to make me play..."  His grip tightened on his gun.

"Clear?"

[BROseidon†]

"That's fine. We find Travis, kill him, then go our separate ways. Then we hope we don't run into each other again."

[Grim Wolf]

Tyler studied Virgil for a moment, then nodded.  "Good deal," he said.  "Let's move.  They've got us fucking penned in now.  He can't be far."  He grabbed his bag from his feet, then thought a moment.  "Walk next to each other, yeah?" Tyler said.  "That way we don't have to worry about any fucking tricks."

He fell into step besides Virge, and they set off across the island.

(Tyler Lucas continued elsewhere)