I'd Rather be at the Aquarium

[Ohm]

Theo continued his comfort talk as James made sure Damion’s knee was covered as properly as possible, Damion’s struggling growing less and less as he seemed to get more control over himself.

He got done putting the bandages on Damion’s knee, taking his foot off as he looked to be calming down. With Theo working on giving Damion the painkillers, James walked by and left his water bottle over with him before going over to his bag to fish out his weapon and get a good look at it. Right now they were easy pickings for some wannabe winner like barrel fuck. Not if James had a say in that.

He took it out and held it with a sort of reverence. Grabbing the manual confirmed his thoughts; it was a grenade launcher. He skimmed his hand along it’s surface. This was his and his alone. Right now with Damion’s gun stolen and Theo seemingly having no weapon, that left James with the only weapon and a gun at that; sort of.

He decided to load it up, just in case. Hell, maybe just to try out even. They wouldn’t skim him on this. He searched through his bag for ammo and found it.

Four. He had four shots with it and done. That put a sour note on it all. Well, for now it would have to be an intimidation tool. Although if they ever met barrel boy again...

[Maraoone]

Through the shocks of pain coursing through Damion's nerves, through the tears and the ringing and the tension in his fingers, the only thing he could think of as Theo squeezed his hand was how warm it was, how pliant the flesh was, how vulnerable it felt.

He hated it.

Because it was a parody, a bastardization of the coldness he yearned, the hardness, the smoothness of the metal he had held on to, relied on for the past couple of hours. Theo's hands could never replace the authority, the decisiveness, the finality of that weapon. They did not empower him, they oppressed him, forced him into the ground. He realized that every squeeze came with good intentions. Something like comfort? Assurance? He appreciated that, but all it meant in the end was that Damion had no protection. It all meant that he'd given it away just like that, and for what? To feel good about himself?

And then, another loosening. He sat up as soon as Theo let him go, inhaling, exhaling, and in the process, moved his knee an inch. A sharp intake of air. He embedded his nails into his thighs. And then James let go of his leg, moved his knee another inch. He screamed for a second, then stopped himself, took in, took out air instead. In, out, in, out.

Theo had said something again about painkillers. Yes. Yes, please. His hands went up to his mouth, pulled out the gauze immediately. He breathed in through his mouth for five seconds, as if he had just been underwater. Took in all the air he could. And then let it all out in one slow motion.

OK. He was free. Well, except for the broken knee, that was. But he was free.

Both Theo and James were retrieving things at the moment. Theo his painkillers, and James... a rifle? From his bag? How had he... was his bag bigger on the inside somehow? He probably would've noticed a rifle-lumped shape beforehand if that weren't the case.

Damion sat slack-jawed as he looked at the weapon.

[Latin For Dragula]

This is good, actually. Really good. James and Damian and I just work, y'know? As long as we stay away from anymore crazies with guns, we should be fine.

Theo was smiling, really smiling, as he rooted through his bag. There wasn't anything in there that looked like a weapon, which was kinda weird, but he wasn't focused on that right now. The medkit was there and inside he found a couple options. Aspirin and ibuprofen...okay, okay, he'd read about this once. He had this noir project at home and while he was pretty sure from researching that you weren't supposed to take either of these...uh, maybe any painkillers actually...when you were bleeding, one of them was worse. One of them. Definitely one of them. There was a distinct right answer, and it was bad. Very bad. Yep. Yep. Tip of his brain now.

Theo grabbed the ibuprofen and pretended he was sure that was the right answer.Confidence. Just act confident. Everything's under control now and we're gonna-HOLY TAPDANCING FUCKING CTHULHU

James pulled a giant gun out of nowhere like a homicidal Mary Poppins. Seriously, what was that and how did he get it and oh my god theyweregonnadietheyweregonnadietheyweregonna

BREATHE

"HIJAMESWHAT'REYOUDOINGWITHTHAT"

[Ohm]

As James stood there weapon in hand thinking of really fucking up barrel boy's day, he heard Theo lose his shit behind him. He looked back at them, Damion was staring quietly as if James had something magical. Which in a way he did.

He made sure they weren't gonna be sitting ducks.

"Oh, calm down Theo. Nothing to worry about, it's just a grenade launcher loaded and ready for use." He smiled at him as he pointed it towards the other end. It took everything in him not to fire, he really wanted to see how powerful it could be.

He decided to keep the ammo situation he had to himself. The less they knew about his weapon, the better.

His smile faltered a bit as he looked to the other end, standing up as he did so. Could he trust them? Both were neurotics, unpredictable, hell Damion had held him at gunpoint scant few hours ago. And he had no idea about Theo.

"Look, right now this is all we've got. Damion's lost his and I don't see you have anything on you. So this." He knocked on it with his knuckle, clicking sound coming forth. "This is all we've got between us and them."

[Latin For Dragula]

((Skipping to move the day ahead))

"O-okay, okay, cool. That's fine..."

This isn't fine at all.

But it would be. James would be responsible. James had help him fix Damion up. Everything was going to be okay.

They made camp among the boxes and tried to get some sleep.

-------

Theo woke that morning with a pained yawn. What a night. Day. Something. It was one of those mornings where you woke up and you weren't quite sure where you were or where you'd been. The sheets slid down his chest as he tried in vain to stretch out before curling back up in bed in grumpy defeat. Five Ten Twenty Sixty Infinite more minutes should fix the haze. It felt like he should be looking for something, or maybe somebody, or...bluuuugh, something was slipping his mind, that was for sure.

"'bout time you crawled out, sunshine. Otherwise I'll have t' come crack yer cocoon myself."

Noises in the kitchen. Sizzling, scraping, snickering...someone was cooking. Who was supposed to be here? His head pounded. Where were Mom and Dad? Why did he hurt so much? Creaking. Whoever was out there was coming around to the apartment-his apartment?-bedroom. His beard scratched against the sheets as he tried to peek out over them with a wince. A large form turned into the doorway.

Oh. Yeah. That checked out. How could he ever forget that face?

"There he is," Hansel grinned down at him, "Come on out and spread them wings for me, we got a big day now." Theo couldn't help but blush sheepishly and slide out of bed. He really must have had a rough night's sleep to have let all this slip.

"Sorry. Not, uh, feeling quite myself yet. Breakfast smells great though!"

"Never disappointed you before, did I? Now stop teasin' me and get dressed."

Theo glanced down and blushed brighter as he caught himself shirtless. It probably shouldn't be quite this embarrassing after...geez, what, 10 years now? Oh shit I hope I didn't forget our anniversary. Today's not our anniversary is it? No, no, that's October, wake up Theo. They wouldn't have double-booked themselves like that anyway. It'd be nice to space the dates out, make sure they all got their equal importance.

Hansel already had a plate for him and had busied himself with some news story on his tablet, he couldn't see from this angle. When Theo sat down to start to eat though, he gave him That Look up over its edge. "Want a little hair of the dog to go with that, chief? You were in a rough way when I came home last night."

His brain was catching up. He wanted to look innocent and confused under his gaze, but now that he'd been walking around he knew exactly why he felt so messed up. There was probably still some whiskey on his breath. He'd just, he'd meant for it to be a nice surprise, and things had gotten out of hand..."I, I tried something kinda dumb last night. Please don't be mad. I just thought, y'know, we're so close and it's been so long, that maybe they'd like to hear about it and this could change their minds, or there'd been enough silence that they'd finally come to regret it, so I tried to call your parents and-" Theo didn't realize he was crying, or that Hansel had gotten up, until he felt his arms wrap around him from behind with a hand circling his chest. "I'm sorry..."

"Shhhh...yer heart was right. Usually is. Just gotta work on yer brain, that's all." Those last words came with a teasing kiss in his hair. "It's alright. I ain't mad. I get it. I wish they were excited for us too." He shifted to leave an arm slung around his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. They'll come 'round someday. Or they'll die and we can quit wastin' the phone call."

Theo didn't know whether to laugh or gape at him, so for the moment he just wrapped his arms tight around his arm to nuzzle against it. "Hey. You're pretty great, you know that?"

"Mm, heard that a time or two. Don't see it myself, but that's why you're the brains." Hansel patted his shoulder. "No more whiskey without me, though. Can't drink that man out of your head. " He snorted. "God knows I've tried."

For a minute or so they were quiet, just drinking in each other's presence. Theo was the one to break the silence. "We're really doing it, aren't we?"

"Reckon so."

"After all this time it's hard to believe it won't be just us around here anymore."

He could see his smile in the corner of his eye. "You aren't gettin' cold feet at the sound a' pitter patters, are ya?"

"No, no," he laughed out as he swatted at his arm, "It's just, y'know...us? Parents? Even after all this, it's hard to wrap my mind around it. We're so young."

"Eh, pushin' thirty. Don't kid yourself too much there."

"You know what I mean."

Hansel's face went soft at that. "Yeah..." He muttered quietly. "Sometimes I wonder..."

"What's wrong?"

"I'unno. It's not important."

"Come on." Theo's had reached up to caress his cheek. "It's just us. You don't have to be the tough guy here."

That earned him a weak smile. "I'unno, Theo. Sometimes...I just worry about the cycle of it all. My folks never meant for it turn out this way. Makes me wonder if theirs meant for them to turn out that way, or how...hell. It's stupid, ain't it?"

"Nah. I get it. But you know what?"

"What?"

Theo caught him by the back of the head and pulled him down into a deep kiss. As it broke he leaned up to his ear and whispered "You're gonna be a great dad. Anybody who says otherwise doesn't really know you. Even you."

Hansel's wide, confident grin stretched back across his face. "Finish your breakfast, sunshine. We've gotta go meet our baby boy."

As Theo rose from the chair, his foot caught on one of the legs and he started to fall forward. Fast. Too fast. Way too fast. There were voices in the air. He was crying but he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't scream-

"HANSEL!"
----------

His voice echoed back at him inside the empty shipping container. There was a voice on a loudspeaker talking over it.

Who the fuck is Hansel?

[Maraoone]

OK, so Damion was wrong. It was a grenade launcher, not a rifle. And for a second, James' reminder of Damion losing his gun almost hurt more than the injury itself. At least, that's what he thought until the next wave of pain washed over him. Deep breaths.

He nodded at James. He'd have to rely on him for the meantime.

He bit his lip.

--

Damion had learned many things in his first day on the island. How a gun felt like, how pointing a gun felt like, how a gunshot felt like, etc. Yet, the day had one more lesson in store for him, one he would never be prepared for.

He didn't know his leg could swing from left to right.

Getting to the shipping container was an hour of hell onto itself. He couldn't remember much. He said a hello to himself, in the middle of the night, and it came out as a hoarse whisper. So, he assumed there was lots of screaming involved. Every now and then, something would come to him in flashes. Wet cheeks. Sore eyes. Fingernails embedded into his friends' shoulders as they hauled him over meters of what felt like glass shards and barbed wire.

The ibuprofen took effect eventually. The fiery stabbing sensation became a hammer smashing inside, not into, his knee over and over again. He appreciated the cold metal floor of the shipping container. If he pressed his hands against the metal hard enough, if he ignored the hollowness, he could almost believe that his gun was still in his hand. That he hadn't fucked everything up so badly.

The sun sank below the horizon, and the shadows engulfed the surroundings, silencing what little words had been exchanged among the three of them. After everything that had happened today, Damion didn't feel like a typical conversation could come close to restoring any sense of normality. He needed time to think, really.

And the night gave him much more time than he bargained for. Damion had volunteered to take watch for the three of them. It wasn't like his knee would allow him to sleep anyways, so might as well do something useful.

He looked at James and Theo as they slept. There was this sense of fatigue that clouded him, weighed heavy over him, and yet there was also the hammer smashing into him. Before tonight, he didn't know that one could be so tired yet so wide awake at the same time.

It was getting hotter also, the hammer. Sharper. The ibuprofen was probably wearing out. He could've woken up Theo, asked him for another dose, but he felt that if he got a hold of the bottle, he would down it all in one gulp. He didn't know that much about medicine, but he guessed an overdose was another problem that no one wanted to deal with.

He sat slumped against the wall. Both his legs were extended outward. One of his legs was bare below the knee, with the knee itself covered in a red-stained bandage, the other still in jeans. It looked almost funny, like some try-hard edgelord outfit gone awry, and Damion tried to chuckle at it, but all that came out was a single burst of sound before silence took over again.

He looked at his toes. They'd removed his sneakers to make cutting out the denim fabric easier, so his feet were bare. It occurred to Damion that he hadn't moved the toes on his right foot at all since he got shot. Even though it would probably hurt, he tried to flex them.

They didn't respond.

He reached over and slapped his leg. He moved his knee a little in the process. He shakily exhaled through clenched teeth. He felt the knee, of course. But the leg. It felt like slapping meat. Which is to say it didn't feel like anything at all.

It occurred to him that he'd never be able to play soccer again. If he made it out of this somehow, someway, he would still never be able to push himself off the ground, soar into the air, catch the ball before it hit the net. He would never be able to run to the side and dive for the ball. He would never be able to run, in fact. Maybe he could walk with some therapy. Or limp, really.

He'd just wanted to help Blaine. Just wanted to feel good. It was his way of making up for Vincent and Lance, earlier. Why couldn't he be afforded that? Why did it have to be turned against him so hard? Was this what he got for pointing the gun earlier, because if it was, then he was sorry, he really was, he learned his lesson, now make it stop, please. Just wake him up.

He wasn't sure whether it was this realization that made him cry or if it was the drugs wearing off, but he cried all the same.

--

Several hours of monotony passed, hours punctuated by pulses of fire, the squawks of seagulls, creaks of metal as James and Theo shifted in their sleep. Bursts of regret. Several hours passed before they were finally ended by the announcements.

He actually welcomed it.

[Ohm]

Theo said it was fine, Damion nodded. James looked at his two would be partners. They both seemed game with it. Seemed being the keyword. James knew they weren’t. Neither were exactly good at hiding this. But he would play along with this.

As they found a spot to sleep in a container. Damion offered to stan-errr, sit guard with the launcher. James was hesitant at this, but he let him. He could trust Damion, for now at least.

-

James walked along the road to the park. He’d gotten a message from Clio to meet her there, which was odd. Usually she wanted them to meet up at the mall or the cinema. Watch a movie or buy things, couple stuff James guessed.

They had met when James bumped into her at class. She was less than happy about it, but came around later when James apologised for it and kind of just threw out the suggestion of helping out with science stuff.

Yeah, it wasn’t that good of an introduction, but it worked out right? They would chat in class and in the halls and he’d help her out with work if she had trouble. It was two months ago when he got the courage to ask her out, he didn’t even remember what brought it to his mind to ask or even the courage to do so, but he did.

And here he was on the way to the park to meet her. Things seemed pretty good till he got there. He saw her sitting at a park bench furiously typing away at her phone, obviously irritated at something.

“Hey Clio, what’s up?”

She didn’t return his greeting at first. She continued typing away til she was done and got up. The way she was acting and looking at him that even James could tell something was amiss.

“W-what’s wrong?”

She snapped her fingers at him. “You know why James.”

“N-no, I really don’t.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as she stared him down. “Do you know how many times I’ve called?”

“Uhhh, I keep my phone of-”

“And the texts?”

“....”

he saw the flare of anger in her eyes. “Well?.”

“T-the same thing with calls, my phone’s of-”

“That’s very typical of you James.”

“S-sorry.”

She looked at him, the flare was gone. Seemed more tired.

“I’m tired of this James, we’ve barely talked or done anything lately, you’re always busy at school or at home. I’m sick of it.”

Alright, now she was exaggerating. Sure, he’d brush her off on the occasion to study… alright more than that, but still. He didn’t see what the problem was. She knew what he was planning to be, and if he wanted to get further he needed to get good grades. that’s just how it is.

“But I...you know I-”

“Just stop James. This isn’t working.”

“Wait. You mean…”

She sighed. Probably hoped to get this over with quick. “Look, what are we both getting out of this? I’m done with the silent treatment you keep giving me. Call it a break or whatever you want, but this needs to stop.”

“So...this is it? Just like that?”

“Yes. Like that. “

A part of him wanted to yell for her to stop, that they didn’t need a break and he could be better, he would stop focusing on tests and focus on her. Instead….

“If that’s what you want.”

She looked at him in a weird way, maybe she thought he’d fight against her about this, argue with her. He wanted to, he really did, but there was something stopping him. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

They stood there in silence for a bit. Just looking at each other. It was done, neither had a reason to be there anymore.

“Bye James.” She looked away from him and started walking away.

He looked at the retreating form of Clio. She’d been the first girl he’d ever thought of in that way. The first girl he kissed. Ever took on a date. He felt a clump in his throat as he stood there and watched till he couldn’t see her anymore.

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the distance. It felt like a brick had hit him in the chest. After a while he turned and started on his walk home, trying hard to pretend the wetness on his face was from the rain and not the tears coming from his eyes.

Well, look at the brightside he thought. He now had more time for that test on friday.

-

That memory again. James had hoped he’d buried it deep just so he can stop thinking about it, and now he was dreaming about it. Just great. He just couldn’t escape her, seeing her around school was bad enough.

Wasn’t she on the bus? God. He hoped not. It had been a while ago since it had happened, but the last thing James wanted to do was run into Clio. If he did, then what?

James laid there listening as a hoarse voice reminiscent of the fat man at the bus giving a spiel on his classmates adventures in funtime murder death island. And it seems they succeeded, several of his classmates had already bitten it the proverbial apple these terrorists were giving them. Jay, Sophie, Everett, Katarina and Bridgette.

They were all stupid. Probably expecting a heroes welcome when they get home. 'Hey guys, just murdered a bunch of my classmates at the behest of terrorists, please welcome me back.' You’d have to be smarter than that.

James had given it some thought and had come up with a plan. He’d already got Theo and Damion with him. Probably edge in one more and then get some weapons. The last guy that got out, what’s his face… Nick Reid? He hunted down killers. People would be more accepting of them coming home.

If he could convince them….

He sat up as the announcer finished along his speech and named danger zones.  He looked over Damion and eyed the Launcher. He didn’t feel comfortable with the launcher out in play, especially not in either of these two’s hands.

“Fucking hell, bunch of morons on that list.”

[Latin For Dragula]

Theo wanted to protest that observation. There were all sorts of explanations if you went more idealistic: accidents. Fights. Self-defense and the defense of others. Lies and fabrications.

But Theo had enough experience after Blaine to let his cynicism out and any benefit of the doubt he had for his classmates into a deep, dark hole inside of himself. So Theo kept his fucking mouth shut.

Instead he got up and tried to block everything he'd heard from his mind. No time to process them. They couldn't help them and they couldn't be afraid of them. Damion was here. Theo could help him, and Theo could be afraid of what would happen to him. Focus. That's what he needed. Focus.

The last vestiges of his dream slipped from his head as he wandered over to Damion's prone form. "Morning, buddy. Can I get you anything?"

[Maraoone]

The announcer's voice, the voice that sounded like it belonged to the man on the bus, drifted to him from the speakers, slight hints of static in the background. Like branches being stepped on. Through the fire in his knees and the molasses-like substance filling up his mind, blocking his mind, Damion struggled to make sense of what was being said. Yet he persisted.

There were names he hung onto. Two of them, to be exact. First was Jasmine King, of course. He listened for any syllable, any sequence of sounds that could even come close to her name. And there weren't any. And that was a great blessing. He could still find her- she could still find him. And then he could go to the next step of his plan. Whatever it was. And then, there was Blaine Eno.

Damion really fucking hoped he died.

His personal choice for method of death was burning alive. Fitting for a demon like him. Or no, maybe getting stabbed in the back would be better. In the spine, so he could bleed out.

Blaine also didn't show up, much to his disappointment.

Vincent died too, apparently, not long after he'd walked out. His name brought up pangs of regret, left over from yesterday. He never got to say sorry.

When all was said and done, Damion and all the others left had apparently outlasted eight of their fellow classmates. Despite being down a limb. For a moment, he let himself feel a bit proud, until he realized that was mostly because of luck. Damion's gun only having one bullet. No one else finding them afterwards. Damion had still fucked up. He was still dragging two of his classmates down with him.

James referred to a bunch of morons, and Damion wanted to ask about who he was referring to. Those who died, or those who killed? He had a few issues with that statement either way. If it was the former... well, it could be true for some cases. Falling into a tar pit sounded somewhat comical, to be honest. Still a crude way to put it though. Not something he would say out loud. And if it were the latter, well, moronic wouldn't be the word he would use. Cruel, maybe. Malicious. Impulsive- just a push of the trigger and Damion could've been one of the morons, and maybe James, too- probably. Not moronic, though.

But Damion had neither the energy nor the will to argue that either way. So he just lazily nodded.

Theo headed over to Damion and asked what he wanted. Another pang of regret. Damion had wanted to kill him, yesterday. Named him a traitor, a murderer. Of course, that was all contained in his head, in minutes of panic, but the thought counted.

He wasn't sure how he could ever make it up to these two. How he could ever repay the favor, if he was even physically capable of doing so. He hated it.

But the fire in his knee still raged on, so he'd add a bit more to his debt of gratitude.

"Painkillers, please. And thank you."

He couldn't look Theo in the eyes.

[Ohm]

He meant every word of it. Morons fit too well considering what he heard. Tumbling down ravines, playing early, some-fucking-how getting stuck in a tar pit. James thought folks at his school were smart. Clearly he was wrong.

James sat there and gauged the reactions of his friends to his outburst. He wanted to see if they would bite, argue with him about it, but neither did. The seeds of doubt had already set in regarding their classmates. If he wanted anything done, he would have to capitalise on it.

"I've been thinking, we need something better than this." He pointed at the launcher in Damion's hands, his gun. "People are gonna be afraid of it for a while, but they will figure it out eventually."

An idea James had that he had dwelt on before going to sleep was that this area is huge and full of places to hide. They could put two to the side and wait with the perfect bait in front.

"Damion... do you trust me and Theo?"

[Latin For Dragula]

Pills scattered on the floor as Theo dropped the open container. He was supposed to be giving them to Damion. Numb the pain, help out a friend, put them right back on track to figuring out what to do next despite everything. It would have been kinda cute. A couple of hopeful musings, some heart stirring in a vaguely heroic direction, confidence, resolution, soul. Boy, that would have been something.

But James and his very, very large gun were talking, and they were saying the sort of ominous things you read in a villainous origin story right before he murdered his friends.

For the second time Theo was forced to confront the fact that with death hanging over their heads, he was no fucking hero. He was paralyzed in place as the bottle rolled on towards the container's entrance.

[Maraoone]

Damion gasped a quick 'No' as Theo dropped the bottle, as it escaped his field of vision. He leaned over to reach some of the pills that had been dropped. They were mere meters from him. But they were entire meters from him. He pushed his knee in the process, and immediately jerked back onto the ground. He'd made it worse, his knee. Like everything else. He closed his eyes and took in sharp breaths.

The wound had been tearing at him for almost an entire day now, daggers coming and going, and yet it always managed to take him by surprise. He learned when to expect the waves, but he never got used to the way his muscles contracted, as if he himself were trying to escape his body. There were coping mechanisms: deep breaths, flexed fingers, arched backs, spat-out curses, and yet nothing helped. All he could do was try to exist just a bit more.

Eventually, it faded enough for him to do more than that, and he remembered that he'd been posed a question. Did he trust them?

He had no other choice.

"Yes. Why?"

[Ohm]

He saw the bottle drop. He saw Theo freeze in his tracks like a deer in headlights. He could hear Damion whimper as he desperately reached out for some pills before his knee stopped him. They both gave him a crash course on their limitations.

Theo in particular could be a problem. James didn't like his reactions one bit, as if what he said horrified him or something. This was the reality of their situation and the quicker he woke up to that fact, the more useful he'd be.

Damion’s knee was fucked and could easily end up a liability for him, but what you did then was turn that into a positive, at least for James. And he trusted him, and right now that was all he needed to get this going, but a little extra didn't hurt. Besides, they’re friends.

James walked over to the bottle and grabbed a few of the pills and walked over to Damion. He knelt down as he reached his hand out, palm open with the pills in hand.

"I want your full cooperation on this, alright? With how little we have currently, I think an ambush is in order."

He put his hand on Damion’s shoulder as the next words came out. He hoped

"This place has a lot of good spots to hide. Me and Theo could hide while you pretend to be corpse outside with our bags. When someone comes and takes interest, we jump em.”

[Latin For Dragula]

Okay. Let's be realistic. There are two options here:

1. Grab the stuff and bolt for the door and hope he doesn't wanna waste the effort shooting.

2. Go along with this psycho plan until there's a chance to make a break for it.

Theo didn't want to hurt anybody. It was crazy to think that he did, but here he was talking about ambushing people and using Damion as a decoy like they were...marines behind enemy lines or something. No, no, that was too fair. Marines behind enemy lines sounded like the good guys. You got a certain level of mustache twirling from the people they were gonna waylay before the set up as well as some worldbuilding about how objectively evil the enemies behind those lines were. There was catharsis in that kind of violence, because you could believe that everyone on the receiving end deserved it.

Maybe some people here did deserve it. Blaine definitely deserved it. But that's not what he was talking about.

He wanted them to be the bandits on the roadside of every western or post-apocalpyse or terrifying backroad of an unbelievable news story; a "helpless" victim set-up by armed conspirators to wait for helpless, do-gooding travelers to walk by so they could...what? Rob them? That was the tame part of it, right? This was such an insane plan that maybe he planned to kill them too.

I haven't used his name once. Even thinking about it I can't think about his name because this isn't him. I don't know who's back there but this isn't the guy I know.

He didn't want any part of it. It was terrifying just being in the same room as the idea. The best idea was to wait it out and play cool, pretend he was okay with this and then run away at the first-

"Are you fucking insane?"

Oh or this I'm doing this now okay

Theo shook as he turned around. The tremors ran through his whole body except for his tightly clenched fists. Questions were bouncing around his skull about why he was doing this, but he knew even if he couldn't believe it. Something in him knew that this was wrong and wouldn't be contained. "Did you even listen to yourself there? You wanna, what, rob people at gunpoint? No, wait, there's more!" His arms flew up in the air dramatically along with the high squeaking pitch of his voice. "You want to put Damion in danger and hope somebody comes along to help him so you can rob them. Let's not just threaten and steal from our friends, no no no, it's not clear enough what a bunch of sociopaths we are that way, we need to specifically target the only people still willing to help anyone because hey, better make sure they don't make that mistake again!"

The inside of his mouth felt bone dry but he didn't notice it over the deep churning in his stomach and the tightness in his chest. This was it. This was how he died.

Well.

In for the penny, in for the pound.

Theo's hand came down to point at Damion's leg. "That...monster...took advantage of us and did this, and now what? You wanna be just like him?"

I guess those are pretty okay words to die on.

[Maraoone]

Oh.

So. That's what Damion was supposed to trust in, huh? Being bait. Being put in the barrel. Repeating history, having someone take his place, except no one else could bear this weight, this pain, because that just wasn't how the world worked. So, making a copy of himself, bringing his own pain, his own regrets onto someone else. Because it wasn't fair that only he got the shaft while Blaine got to walk around and continue killing more people, hurting more people, no, it was the way of the island, and they were just doing their part, living their lives, right?

And, this is what he had wanted, right? Some way to lessen the debt? Some way to be of use? Just continue being a paperweight, but a paperweight with purpose.

All these thoughts occurred in his head as he grabbed the pills from James' hand, as he relished the tang of the aspirin in his mouth. He'd have to endure around 30 more minutes of hell before it became, well, still hell, but a lesser circle of it.

And then Theo spoke up and reminded him that the word 'no' existed. He stared at him, at Theo's quaking form. He was impressed. He had to stop himself from nodding along. Theo just stole half the thoughts right out of his head, the thoughts he never intended to voice. Because squashing the last few bits of goodwill, the last remnants of humanity that remained on this island was such a good idea, right? But, again, who was he to say 'no', he that had nailed them down to some godforsaken metal oven for the better part of a day? Who was he to take and take and not give? And yet, who was he to not say 'no', to take part in this hypocrisy?

James looked at him, expected more of him than existence and endurance, immediately.

"...jump? What- what does that entail, exactly?"

He needed time and reasons.