À Tout le Monde

[MK Kilmarnock]

Blood in the water.

Sean wasn't putting up the fight most of the others have. Or maybe, Justin hoped, he was actually getting better at this? The feeling of hope manifested as his heart leaping up into his throat and he gave pursuit to the ground, trying to bring his most trusted weapon down on Sean's face for a quick kill. Unfortunately, in his desperation, Sean had been quick about putting the bag between his skull and the iron, preventing it from pacifying him in one hard crack. Huffing and puffing, Justin forced himself to his feet and stood straddling Sean, jabbing at his ribs with the tire iron with the idea that he might lower the bag to protect that instead. With the head exposed, he'd just need one solid hit and this would all be over. Sean wouldn't have to worry about the stress of trying to live day to day.

He was doing him a favor. He was doing him a favor. He'd done everybody else a favor.

He had to live! He had to live!

Lower the fucking bag!

Justin was all offense now, stepping back even further to take harder shots at those ribs...

[Ohm]

It was getting harder to breathe, Justin didn't let up on his attack as Sean's ribs were screaming internally. He was going to feel this in the morning, if he ever gets to a new one seeing as fat boy has decided he needed to die at all costs.

The bag was doing it's job of ensuring his head was safe, but it wasn't getting anything done in stopping him, if only for a bit so Sean can get out.

But then, he felt the pressure lighten and the attack stopped. Pulling the bag slightly down to see. He saw the boy standing back, getting ready for a bigger swing.

He took his chance. Tucking in his knees, he sent them out as harshly as he could into his gut.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Right when those knees tucked, Justin was pretty sure he knew what was about to happen.

Intuitively, he knew it and could almost see it playing out before it occurred. In the proper state of mind, and with quick enough reaction, he could have stepped to the side and rendered it a useless effort. There were a lot of things he could have done to stop it, but he didn't do any of them. His mind drove him in only one direction and that was forward, to try and get things done now. NOW and DIRECTLY and with no detours or delays, that was how everything had to happen. Justin was sure he could lunge and strike before Sean could do what he wanted to do.

And wouldn't you know it... Justin was wrong. Like a damned kangaroo, Sean's feet both planted firmly into his gut. It was both a kick and a push, because Sean's legs had not yet fully extended on contact. Extend they did, and Justin though that his feet might have even left the ground for a moment.

His head hit the wall a bit before the rest of him. He took most of that one with the back of his dome and his shoulders, stunning him and causing him to slide down with his back pressed against the wall the whole time. He didn't stop until his butt plopped onto the floor, his asscheek screaming in agony from where it had been peppered with Ace's shotgun. The jolt caused Justin to bolt up, forcing him into a spider-legged sprawl that wasn't quite cross-legged, and not quite on his knees either. He hissed in pain, and squeezed his hand.

Empy.

The tire iron had gone... somewhere, but there was no time to look extensively. Sean was going to get up, and he was going to run and get help. He called for somebody before, or tried to. Those people nearby in the city, they WERE his friends, after all. And soon he'd have three or four other kids bearing down on him in a firefight that he might not be in a position to win. Sean could be the end of him.

No. No. NO. Too far! Justin had come too far to get himself stuck like this.

He reached for the closest thing and found that spiky fruit from earlier.

This would do.

[Ohm]

It worked! DIstance was created betweem him and Justin and he could hear him hit the wall. Apparantly Sean's legs were real fuckin' strong, more so than his arms anyway.

He quickly turned himself around, bag slumping against the floor as he did so. Groaning as he did so as he felt the damage his ribs had taken, it was already feeling real bad. It was only going to get worse as the day went on, but he can handle that. As long as he got away from this crazy fuck.

Putting his palms against the floor, he pushed himself up onto his knees and started getting to his feet. Only a little bit now and he was home free.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Thump thump thump thump thump- skkkrt-

"RRRRRRAAAUGH!"

Justin leaped at Sean with all he had, holding the tough spiky fruit in both hands, dunking it down on the back of Sean's head with all the force he could muster. It didn't matter that he shouted anymore. He just needed Sean to stop moving.

[Ohm]

He knew something had gone wrong once that noise, that terrible, annoying noise entered the air. But he figured he could still make it. Make it back and everything would be right again and he could lie down and breathe easy with his friends.

That wasn't going to happen, instead something hit him in the back of the head. He slumped to the floor. His pupils rolled back in his eyes and a gurgle came from his throat. More hits came and went, but Sean did not respond other than twitching.

He couldn't.

He was still breathing and his brain kept going. But there was not that much activity now.

There were no thoughts of home, of his friends or family. Hopes, dreams nor aspirations. It was empty. Like a public building after dark.

That was all that was left. Darkness.

And yet, it took him a while to die.

B026 Sean Leibowitz: deceased

[Sunnybunny]

She knew stress was hard on the guts, but had he eaten something bad? The thought occured that he might have ditched them but... no, didn't track.

Even the shot of pure giddiness from Tomtom saying he loved her didn't stop her pondering. They hadn't tried to hunt so food poisioning was out, their water was clean and how much could he have in his system anyway?

There was a faint sound minutes later, like an animal cry or something and there hadn't been any animals this close to the houses any time she'd been here.

"Thomas, can we go get him? He might need meds or something."

Or he was getting harrassed by a goat, and they'd have to rescue him.

Silly nonsense.

"Let's... switch guns, okay? Naomi might be a bit too rough with me."

Overreaction.

"Just in case, yeah?"

Sakurako's expression betrayed the nervousness she felt, even if it wasn't entirely rational.

[Catche Jagger]

Just as things seemed to have settled for a moment, Thomas heard some unsettling cry from nearby.

Sakurako quickly suggested something along the lines of sean being sick? Which was not at all the train of thought that sent a shiver down Thomas’s spine. He quickly rose to his feet and helped her up as well.

“We, um, yeah. Switching guns sounds like a good idea.” He nodded, struggling to stand still as his eyes darted around the nearby area for any sign of Sean or anybody else. It felt weird giving away the pistol, even if he was just getting another, bigger gun in exchange, having kept it so close since the very beginning. He didn’t have much time to overthink, though.

His new weapon at the ready, Thomas took a few steps toward the location of the sound before remembering that Sakurako wasn’t going to be able to follow at the same pace. He quickly stopped, knowing that they would be too slow going at Sakurako’s pace.

Hunching over a bit, he turned back to her. “You should probably hop on. Like, do a piggyback kind of thing.”

Carrying Sakurako, Thomas moved as fast as he could, only stopping to take a breath by the spot he last saw Sean.

Almost as soon as his legs were firmly planted, Thomas found they were shaking. He needed to stop that. Maybe Sakurako was right. Maybe this was just nothing.

“Sean? Sean!” Thomas called out, looking around for any sign of him.

[MK Kilmarnock]

'Sean? Sean!'

Fuck. FUCK.

Justin looked down at his recently committed deed. Sean wasn't moving and the blood seeping out of the back of his head, torn open from the rough texture of the fruit, had begun to pool down underneath his face. Tufts of orange hair made it difficult to survey the actual damage but Justin was pretty sure there'd been enough force there to kill him. Sean was plainly dead or about to be, which was the plan... but his friends finding him dead with Justin still in the same room as him, that was NOT part of the plan at all. And by the sounds of it, they were starting to get pretty close.

The first thing he did after getting up was shut the door. There had to be some benefit in doing that but he couldn't plot out the minutia; it just made him feel more secure and that was everything at this time. Justin moved back to Sean's ankles and lifted one up, decided against moving the body after all and let it drop. He looked around for the fruit that he'd used to do Sean in... nowhere. Did it roll outside? No time to get it, but he silently swore at himself for letting it happen. He didn't remember when he'd let go of the damned thing but with spikes on all sides, there was no easy way to hold it, and the impact wasn't exactly easy on his hands... they felt wet, and Justin didn't want to look at them right now. They were definitely soaked in blood. Sean's, his own? He couldn't be sure.

At the very least, he found the tire iron again. It had gone and clattered neatly into an interior corner, where the wall jutted in a little to start forming the threshold of the door. Wiping his hands on the front of his pants and biting his lip to keep from mewling in pain as he did so, Justin reached down to pick up the tire iron. Reluctantly, he transferred it to his bag - it would be of no use if multiple people stormed his position - and rifled around for the SMG instead. He pulled it out and set it by his knee, looking over his shoulder every three or four seconds to try and listen for or gauge when company might be coming.

This might be a good time for the rifle, he thought, digging a little further to take out the assembled weapon and getting about halfway before self-doubt ate at his surface thoughts again. This thing was heavy and more complicated to use than the SMG, and seemed better fit for long distance. It was good for getting the drop on somebody else. The exact opposite of what was going to happen.

There was going to be a fight soon. A bad one. Fuck fuck fuck. Where were they? Fuck fuck. Was it his imagination or was Sean's blood seeping underneath the doorway? Fuck, this house wasn't level, was it!?

Justin swept up the SMG and tried to find a good spot in the musty old house far from any windows. He looked at the table set up in the little kitchen area... just as good as any. Without setting down the gun, he tucked down and brought his shoulder up under the lip of it to turn it over on its side. It hit the floor with a thud and two chairs clattered to the sides -- no matter, speed was the more pressing issue now. Darting around his makeshift bunker, Justin grabbed the strap of his bag and dragged it until it slid along behind him like a little sled back with him behind the table.

Now he could only wait, and think about how he could get out of this one.

[Sunnybunny]

Sean wasn't answering Thomas's call, and Sakurako could feel all the anxieties that defined her time on the island returning. Her mind was swimming in possibilities, not one of them good.

A door shut near them, some weird scent wafted in her nostrils. Nasty. Familiar.

All these houses were built the same, right? Right? No way anyone knew these layouts better than her.

"Boost me up on the roof, make sure they try to leave from the back. Be careful." The pre-show scramble, whispered outside instead of shouted backstage. Same old drill with new steps.

It suited her. Damn it, it suited her so well.

Quietly, staying away from the windows, she used her boyfriend's height to scramble-scamper up there. He wouldn't have to worry about balancing her and that gun now. Her leg throbbed, but it didn't matter. This person might very well have done nothing, but she would be the judge of that, jury of that.

Her heart pounded as she slowly moved into place. Nostrils flared, body tense, a brief thought of the gun lesson from Adele she missed flitted through her mind.

[Catche Jagger]

Sean didn’t answer. What did that mean?

It meant that something was very wrong.

Sakurako asked to be boosted up to the roof, a move that Thomas was not entirely comfortable with, since it would put her out of sight where he couldn’t make sure she was ok, but this was not the time to argue and she raised a good argument for it.

“You be careful too.” He spoke quietly before slowly making his way towards the door.

Damn it, what was he supposed to do going into a place like this? If someone was in there with Sean, they probably didn’t have a gun, since Thomas hadn’t heard any gunshots, but he still couldn’t just rush in either.

Don’t they, like stand off to the sides of the doorway and open it, to like keep in cover and such?

Yeah, but Thomas only knew that from, like, movies and games. Trusting his life to the verisimilitude of fiction he enjoyed did not seem like a good move.

You literally have no other frame of reference for this. You can’t just look up the right answer now, jackass.

Feeling a bit awkward and exposed as he positioned himself up against the side of the doorframe, Thomas spoke up once again.

“Sean, if you’re in there, please say something. I really don’t want to fuck things up again.” Thomas was referencing all the misuse and near misuse of weapons he’d taken part in since arriving on the island.

Accidentally murdering his friend would really, really serve as the icing on the cake for that whole pattern.

Gritting his teeth and holding his position, Thomas lightly pushed open the door before, inch-by-inch, peeking inside, only to see his worst fear realized almost immediately.

“Sean…?” He asked quietly, but of course there was no answer, obviously.

Sean was unnaturally still and his blood pooled on the ground.

Thomas was shaking once again.

Thomas felt tears starting to come again.

You can’t do that. You let up focus for one second and you’re dead and Sakurako’s probably dead too.

He knew that. He knew what he had to do, but it was hard. He had to compartmentalize, block out the thoughts of anything other than the killer and his immediate surroundings, sans Sean.

But how? How?

Thomas grit his teeth and tried to focus on his own breathing as his gaze finally started to move away from his friend's remains.

Then, trying to keep himself low, grounded, Thomas took his first step inside.

[MK Kilmarnock]

The door opened and whoever had opened it discovered the crime scene. Justin felt a twist in his gut, the same feeling a child gets when their parents discover the F on that week's report card and call them downstairs to give them a good tirade over it. It was that feeling that sunk low and said 'you're dead meat, kid'. And if Justin didn't fight back properly, that's exactly what was about to happen.

He had the table between himself and the doorway, but the table was wooden... old wood at that, and wood wasn't bulletproof. Old, untended wood even less so. It was the best protection he could afford himself and it probably amounted to something, some sort of visual cover that could at least obscure his location. But really, it was emotional security more than anything else as far as he understood it. And understanding it that way... inherently lessened the effect, actually.

Silence. Justin rested the front of the gun, the part that came right after the barrel, on the edge of the table. He hunkered down behind the sights and waited for the step. A leg... the rest of a person... he pulled the trigger.

[Sunnybunny]

The sound of gunfire was like the crackling of the speakers before announcements, the prelude to bad news. Soundtrack to a nightmare, especially when she didn't hear the rat-a-tat-tat that was supposed to be the response to this call to arms.

People with guns... same shit as always. They thought it was a pass to do what they wanted, talk how they pleased. Hurt whoever they liked.

Everything in her wanted to want to hurt this person. It was playing right into the spectacle Danya wanted, she knew it. It would break her dad's heart to see her embrace the violent sort of life he'd left everything to escape.

She hated to see a sad, hurting face.

But the time for jokes had passed. This island had taken away so much from her, she had to protect the little she'd been g-

No. Everything she had now was because she'd defied that fuck telling them to dance to his tune. Everything and everyone endangering what was Sakurako's was her enemy now.

Come on, Tomtom. Just get 'em outside and we'll do this together.

[Catche Jagger]

Movement was slow carefully. It was all Thomas could do now. To call out or stay still invited an ambush, made him just another victim, right?

However, one could only be so careful, and when he finally did catch sight of the killer in his midst, it came down to a matter of reflexes. Thomas was just a bit slower.

The killer, Justin, a guy who Thomas probably knew more from his rather regular naming in the morning announcements than any brief interaction they might’ve had back at school, had been laying in wait and pulled the trigger as soon as he saw Thomas, who felt a searing pain in his left shoulder as he ducked back behind a wall.

“Shit shit Fuck!” Thomas hissed as he felt the scream of pain shoot all the way down his arm as he sunk to a squat.

He wasn’t fast enough. Fuck. He had to breathe. Fuck!

Thomas breathed in through the nose.

Breathed out through the mouth and clenched teeth.

He squeezed his left hand into a fist, and then bent his elbow. His arm shook with the latter act.

“Ass! Ass… you ass!” He hissed again as the pain continued, but his arm still worked, though blood was slowly seeping from his shoulder, threatening to dye his shirt.

Quickly remembering where he was, reminding himself who he was with, Thomas peeked out of cover and fired into the room that Justin had camped out in. However, without easy use of his left arm, the spray of bullets that came forth was nigh impossible to control and Thomas had no idea whether or not he’d hit anything when he ducked back behind the wall, the pain in his arm further agitated.

He was down before the standoff had really begun. Best case scenario at this point involved Thomas being able to take Justin down with him.

And where would that leave Sakurako?

That was right! Sakurako… Maybe there was still a way to handle this.

“You ass… You motherfucker! You killed my fucking friend and now you shot me!” Thomas shouted. He had to, really, since in his current state that was the best he could.

“What’s the plan now, huh asshole? Camp out here until we kill each other, huh?” Thomas had to think of some way to get Justin out of the house.

That’s all he needed. Just get him out of the house.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Did he get him? He thought he might have gotten him! There was a noise best described as a grunt somewhere in the blast of gunfire. Justin drew the gun back and gave the side of his weapon a cursory look, as if he could use x-ray vision to gauge how much ammo he had left in the magazine. There was more where that came from, and he'd practiced reloading once or twice just outside the rice paddies but from there it'd been chaos: Aliya, Ace, being wounded, not even having enough time to patch himself up and then Sean caught him with his pants down... figuratively. If he didn't take the proper precautions to be well and hidden, next time it could be literally with his pants down as he tried to tend to his wounds. Like a crawdad caught out while molting, that would be the end for him.

The boy on the other side of the doorway, obscured by a bit of wall that came inward toward the center of the house, spat and swore like a howling cat. He lived, and with enough strength to swear at him-

Brrrrrrrapbrapbrap!

Justin was already solidly behind the upturned table but he flattened down almost all the way to the floor, clutching the gun close. He could feel dust sprinkling down onto the back of his neck and kissed his knees while tucked into a ball, instinctively guarding himself from the big bad stranger who wanted to kill him for reasons that had to be bad ones, because he had to keep telling himself that.

It was bullshit, but he needed to own that bullshit. Like Ace said... no feeling sorry. There's no going back after Aliya, bless her heart.

Justin nervously started to uncurl and noticed two, perhaps three bullet holes near the upper far part of the table. They weren't close to hitting him... a small comfort, as his assailant was surely motivated to do better next time, going by his ranting and raving. Pointless... everybody, by this point, was somebody's friend. Killing anybody would be sure to make somebody else mad, and what was he supposed to do at this point? Sit in his corner? What happened when everybody sat in their corners, huh!? They all died! Sean still died, and so did everybody else! So what was the fucking point of getting mad!?

"Wha-... th... if you want!" Justin sputtered, ready to spit up pieces of his heart through gnashed teeth. "O-Or you could, like, make... fuck off!" Half of the sentence was lost in transit but surely enough had been said to let his point go across. "Sorry that we're forced ki- fo- made to do this!" The gun was poised again. "I d-didn't wake up and go, 'oh boy, let's go killing people for a FUCKING WEEK!' GIMME A BREAK!"