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Away
For the next five days or so, I won't be able to post. Got suspended from school. Will be back next Tuesday.

Random LazPoll #1
Full Metal Jacket was a great movie. Stan Kubrick is a fuckin' genius, so's the guy who wrote the original novel. The actors weren't bad either.

Birthdate Thingy
Your Birthdate: January 19

Posted Image

You are resilient, and no doubt your resilience has already been tested.
You've had some difficult experiences in your life, but you are wise from them.
Having had to grow up quickly, you tend to discount the advice of others.
You tend to be a loner, having learned that the only person you can depend on is yourself.

Your strength: Well developed stability and confidence

Your weakness: Suspicion of others

Your power color: Eggplant

Your power symbol: Spade

Your power month: October

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/

What the fuck...? That barely fits at all.

Inactivity List
Shouldn't Jin and Caitlin be removed, since they died?

Stopping for the night (CONTENT WARNING!)
((Walter continued from Scrounging for Gear))
((Jin continued from I Flow Wherever the Wind Takes Me))

After Blake Ross had made his escape and Walter had managed to retrieve his items from where he put them before attacking Blake, which had happened after he had stumbled blindly into a house and washed the dirt out of his eyes, Walter Smith had found himself travelling for several hours by himself, his psychotic mind his only company. Though he heard many gunshots, screams and all around sounds of chaos around the island Steven Wilson had dumped him and his class onto, he had surprisingly not encountered anyone. He had managed to keep his improvised glass knife from his encounter with Blake, and his hand was starting to get sore from gripping it. It had somehow not broken when it hit whatever it hit.

He had not eaten much in the past hours, knowing he had to preserve what food he had until he found more, and that he could withstand the hunger for a while. About fifteen minutes ago, he had taken a short drink of some of his water and eaten part of one of the energy bars, but that was it for now. However, there was one thing he could not deny, he was getting tired. He would have to find a place to sleep, now that the blanket of night had wrapped itself over the island. Otherwise, he would be wide open for any opportunistic player or person with a grudge. He always had to keep his guard up, Blake Ross had taught him that much. Thus, even when he was greeted by the sight of the large, if slightly worn down, hotel, he was cautious in his approach. Silently creeping up to it, he contemplated going in through the front door, but decided against it, leaning against the wall briefly.

If there's anyone in there, they'd expect me to go through the front. I could walk into a trap if I did that, and that just wouldn't do. Not until I rid the island of these scum and repay Wilson for his trechery. No, there has to be a back entrance. There always is. he thought, starting to walk around the building looking for that very entrance.

After about two minutes of such walking, slowed by him occasionally stopping to make sure he wasn't followed, he found the back entrance he had known was somewhere on the grounds. Walking up to it and turning the knob (which was not a problem, wearing the bag over his shoulder by it's strap meant his left hand was free, so he could open it while keeping the glass shard/knife in his hand), he found that it was unlocked. Odd, but not unheard of. After all, by now people had probably gotten to the hotel before him, they would've opened the doors. Putting this in the back of his mind, he opened the door. This door opened into a hallway, instead of the main lobby, and he found door upon door on both sides of him, all obviously leading to rooms. Fortunately, the building was well lit, meaning he didn't have to worry about his flashlight. Looking to his right, he saw that the third door down from the entrance he had come through was slightly ajar. Now, he had his reservations about going in, it was only natural. If the door was ajar, somebody was probably inside, which would mean he'd have to fight, and from what little experience he had with hotels, "ground floor" rooms tended to be of lesser quality. Just from his own standards that would cause him to hesitate, but a bed was a bed, and if he had to fight to sleep, he would. Comfortable with his decision, he gently placed his left hand on the door and pushed, opening the loose door all the way and walking in. The room he entered was rather small and bland, with a small stretch of hallway past the door that he closed behind him with a slight slam while letting his bag slip off his shoulder and onto the floor. As it rested on the ground he noticed that there was a rather plush red rug in the room. Oddly fitting considering the situation. The walls were a lifeless grey color.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Walter heard the voice saying this soon after observing the color of the walls. Surprised, he allowed his head to quickly pivot so he was staring straight ahead, a glare on his features giving him a rather intimidating look. The person in front of him looked rather odd, wearing an olive-colored coat that covered almost all of his upper body with similarly colored pants of an unknown material. Walter could not clearly make out the boy's face, only enough to confirm he was male. He appeared to be rather thin, and about five inches, give or take one, shorter than Walter himself. Walter did not recognise him from school.

So that traitor Wilson kidnapped kids from other schools too? Is this another international thing like the last game? he found himself thinking. Pushing it aside as he so often did to his thoughts, he made sure the glass shiv was tight in hand and started to stalk towards the unknown boy, actually not appearing like he would suddenly leap towards the kid and slash his throat the instant he was close enough. The boy had been hiding behind the wall near the bathroom door when Walter came in, which is why he had not seen him, but he did not know this. The boy who wasn't from Bathurst raised his hands in a placating gesture, as if to show he was unarmed, and started to back away as Walter approached.

"Look, I...I don't want any trouble. I just wanted to know who you were." he said. Now, whether this kid thought Walter was stupid or was simply a bad liar was up for debate, but the point was this sounded fake. Almost as if the boy was trying to stall Walter. Disregarding this, as he planned to kill this boy anyway, Walter figured he may as well reply.

"Walter Smith. I'm from Bathurst." he said, not knowing why he added what school he was from. He supposed it was to confirm his suspicions that this boy had been taken from somewhere else by Wilson and his men.

"Jin Li-Jen, I'm from Hobbsborough." the boy, now known to be named Jin, replied, still backing away as Walter advanced. To Jin's surprise, Walter temporarily stopped at the bathroom door, looking a bit surprised.

"Hobbsborough, eh? So he did take other schools..." he said, muttering the last part so Jin barely heard it. "Do you know if any other schools were kidnapped?" he asked Jin, walking towards him again, being careful to make it look like he just wanted to go around Jin to get into the rest of the room. This seemed to work, as this time Jin did not back away.

"Not that I know of. I've only seen you and some girl I didn't learn the name of earlier." Jin said. Walter didn't bother to pursue the issue. There were more important things to do. By now, the two were within arms reach of each other, which is when Walter suddenly stopped, much to Jin's surprise. Unknown to Walter, Jin had already realized that Walter was not to be reasoned with, and had been waiting for this very instant. His assigned weapon, a boning knife, was in the back pocket of his pants. He had put it there so that Walter wouldn't see it. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, however, Jin reached around to that pocket as quickly as possible, wrapping his hand around the knife's handle and pulling it out, ready to swing around and slice Walter's throat with it, which wouldn't be too difficult, standing completely straight, Jin reached up to around Walter's collar.

However, he would not get the chance. Walter had seen the sudden change in Jin's eyes and the twitch of his arm as he prepared to draw his knife, and recognized it. He had seen such an action in so many Westerns that he knew what, almost universally, it meant. Thus, by the time Jin brought out the knife and swung it in a hooking motion, Walter was already moving. Almost mechanically, he jumped back to avoid the slice and then moved forward again, using his own "knife" to stab towards Jin's solar plexus. Jin himself responded to this by moving back and to his right (towards Walter's left), ducking and stabbing towards Walter's ribs. Walter had two options here, but the easiest was the one he chose. He sidestepped to his own right and shifted his weight, bringing himself around in a half turn to face Jin, who had already recovered from being temporarily off balance and sent a jab-like stab towards Walter's face. Walter dodged this by moving his head to the left, and quickly to the right as a second identical stab came his way. Moving both feet back, he stepped backwards in a sliding motion at the same time as he attacked with a horizontal slash towards Jin's gut. Jin proved to be quicker than Walter assumed though, ducking back to avoid it and only coming out of it with a small tear in the coat's material. As Walter sidestepped and backed off slightly to enter the main part of the room, Jin rushed forward in a slightly enraged state, swinging madly, the longer blade of his knife making it harder for Walter to close in amid the slashes.

"Stop moving and die already, WASP!" Jin shouted while slicing, a flurry of attacks Walter was too busy dodging to see well enough to describe.

WASP? Why would he call me that...? he wondered to himself as he saw a sweeping overhand slash coming towards his temple and raised his arm, grabbing Jin's by the wrist and stopping the attack, at the same time thrusting towards Jin's stomach with his shiv, Jin doing the same thing Walter himself did to block the earlier attack. They now found themselves in a sort of deadly grapple, each trying to push their knife past the other's grip and into their flesh. Both combatants felt as if this was the decisive instance of their short fight. Both glared at their opponent, trying to make it seem as if they were not overly exerting themselves in their efforts to kill the person in front of them. The host and the guest locked in mortal combat. It sounded like something out of a Greek myth. Maybe because of this, Walter found himself thinking the most peculiar of things in this situation.

Is this how Achilles felt when fighting Hector? the thought left his mind almost as soon as he entered it, but he could not help but consider it in the midst of combat. Had one of the greatest of the mythical Greek heroes felt the desperation, the fatigue, or the determination that were currently going through Walter's heart? Did he fear for his life as he faced his Trojan counterpart? Or was he stoic, killing his enemy with the cold precision of a machine? Would he have been hit by the adrenaline rush that Walter felt as he tried to push away the blade of Jin's knife which was heading, slowly but surely, towards his carotid artery while trying to shove his own knife into Jin's stomach, or would he have felt nothing, or perhaps mocked Jin? Was his bravery supernatural or based on overcoming his fear? It didn't matter in the long run, Walter was not Achilles, nor was Jin Hector. Another trivial thing to think of was the fact that, as he struggled for his life, defending himself for the first time in all of his seventeen years, for once not the original agressor, he didn't know whether the human or animal part of his personality was controlling his actions. Was he Doctor Walter or Mister Smith right now? All that mattered was that he was starting to feel Jin's knife press into his neck, despite his efforts, and it truly dawned on him that he could die right then, in that hotel room miles away from home while the American people watched his struggle for life with either joy or horror, maybe both. He realized this, and he realized something else: he was getting very pissed off.

"Take your OWN FUCKING ADVICE, shithead!" he screamed into Jin's face, the cold fury coming from his words leaving Jin surprised and a bit taken aback. If the door had not been closed, Walter's scream would have been easily audible even in the lobby. He would not give the boy time to react, as a sudden surge of adrenaline gave him enough strength to push Jin's arm away while inching his own knife hand closer into Jin's gut, starting to break through his clothes to the flesh beyond. To couple this, he brought his head forward with violent speed, smashing right into the bridge of Jin's nose. Distracted by the sudden pain, his grip on Walter's knife hand loosened, and he did not notice Walter's left foot resting on his chest for a second before swiftly pushing forward and kicking him away. Jin hit the floor with a loud thud and an equally loud grunt, and almost dropped his knife, but kept his hold and rolled away to his right as Walter started to rush at him. He got up just as Walter turned to face him and, almost predictably, made yet another slash at Walter's throat.

Unfortunately for him, this time Walter spotted the opening that had been there ever since the opening swings of the fight, and he took it. It was clear niether Walter nor Jin was experienced with a knife, and they'd have died at least five times over against anyone who actually knew what they were doing in a knife fight, such as Alexander Stevens or whoever the leader of the Prophets was, but Walter had finally managed to gain the edge. Ducking under the swing, he stepped slightly to the left and raised his glass shiv, bringing it down in a low sweeping motion towards the back of Jin's foot, right above the heel. The close proximity of the two caused the entire blade to slash clean through the middle of the Achilles' tendon on Jin's right foot, causing him to scream out from the immense pain and instantly drop to one knee from the lost balance, the knife falling from his hand. Not one to pass up an opportunity, Walter shifted his weight to face the side of the opponent and, after pressing his left hand to the small of Jin's back to keep him steady, brought the shiv swinging around in a right-hook like motion, plunging it right between Jin's legs. The glass shiv easily ripped through his pants and underwear, striking a small patch of flesh between the penis and testicles, right at the top of the "sack". Sufficient trauma, say, from a slash or stab, to this part of the genitalia would completely sever them, causing the testicles to fall off. It was the most efficient method of castration, if one were so inclined. As it turned out, as Jin screamed in even more agony, and tried to squirm away, this is exactly what happened inside Jin's pants, the "sack" detaching itself in a geyser of blood and rolling onto Jin's underwear. Not satisfied, Walter raised his aim by barely a micrometer and plunged the knife in again. This time it was the penis that fell off, cut from the base but being caught and skewered by the third stab, slashed in half. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) for Jin, the shiv chose that time to break, leaving a huge part of the glass shard in his pants, making a peniskabob of sorts. Throwing the remaining part of the shard away, Walter knocked the bawling and bleeding Jin down and quickly turned around, grabbing the boning knife Jin dropped. Jin was pretty quick, Walter had to give him that much, as soon as he picked up the knife he could see the critically injured teenager struggling to his feet, something nearly impossible. Walter would change that to "fully impossible" by quickly turning around and plunging the blade of the knife through Jin's eye and, in the same movement, tackling him to the ground. This made Jin make his next feeble attempt at screaming right in Walter's face, the meek wheeze he barely managed filling Walter's nose with his foul smelling breath as the knife's blade was pulled out, the eye coming with it before quickly being brushed off by the brown haired psycho.

Walter was now in a modified version of what grapplers called a "mount", the only major difference being that his legs were spread so his knees could pin down Jin's arms. He could practically feel the stupid teenage fangirls rushing to their computers to write Walter/Jin yaoi fics just from seeing this position, but he shrugged it off. He would deal with the fangirls after winning SOTF. Besides, he would probably need a laugh or five million if he got that far. Walter grinned as Jin started to make an attempt at begging for his life, interrupted by the blade of the knife going into his mouth and stabbing the back of his throat, leaving a long slice across his tongue intentionally left by Walter. He was in extreme pain, but could do more than weep and move his mouth in silent pleadings. Meanwhile, Walter's eyes bugged out in a fearsome and crazed gaze as he started to cackle uncontrollably, bringing the knife down again and again into Jin's mouth and face. Each time the knife made a distinct "thunk" sound.

*thunk*
The blade smashed through Jin's cheek, slashing his gums on the way in and out.

*thunk*
Part of his ear was skewered by the knife, only to be flicked off.

*thunk*
Blood started to splatter onto Walter's shirt, his cackle rose in volume and pitch, turning from bass to tenor in an instant.

*thunk*
Jin's left eye was taken for the cause. He didn't even try to scream anymore. The blood loss and pain made him too weak.

*thunk*
Even more blood splashed onto the shirt, it was even starting to make the carpet darker. One could now tell there was blood there on sight.

*thunk*
Jin's spasms started to become weaker, his bodily functions shutting down.

*thunk*
Walter was lost in his own world of blood and carnage, laughing mindlessly and bringing the knife down and up in an endless barrage of stabs. He noticed nothing, knew nothing. Except that he was out of control.

*thunk*
The last "thunk" in the life of a teenage boy. Jin went limp. Walter did not notice, instead continually stabbing without care or knowledge. Thunk after thunk upon a corpse, the wetness fading and the resistance of flesh lessening. Jin turned out to be lucky, his hemophilia meant he bled out long before Walter was done.

Walter would not realize that Jin was dead until he noticed that the entire blade of the knife was covered in blood. Then, his cackling would cease and he would look perplexedly at the knife, with which he had stabbed the boy at least thirty times, and then at Jin's destroyed face. When he did that, it clicked, to be cliche about it. Wordlessly, he got off of the corpse, and wiped the blood off of the knife on one of the coat sleeves. Looking at the corpse, he knew he should be horrified at what he did, scarred for life, but he wasn't.

"Wh...why did I do that?" he asked himself, his arms shaking, the knife falling yet again onto the carpet. He was a psychopath, but not totally lost, he was not all evil. There was an innocent part of even his mind, a part that knew he had done something terrible and was shocked. For a second Walter actually thought he might cry.

Because you had to. He was going to kill you. another voice said from within his mind, a more ruthless, guttural version of Walter's voice. The one he normally spoke with. Walter knew he was right, but still heard what was said. But most of all...you did it because you wanted to.

Again, Walter knew he was right. All his life, nothing he did had been by accident, or unintentional, but at the same time nothing had ever been planned or predetermined. He had done everything on impulse, knowing exactly the gravity of his actions and doing what he did for no other reason than that he felt like it. If he wanted to watch a movie, he watched a movie. If he wanted to kick a dog, he found a dog and kicked it. If he wanted to kill somebody, he did. Impulse was the all powerful dictator of his life. His Big Brother. His Adolph Hitler, or Saddam Hussein. Impulse controlled everything he did. As if to prove this, he had an idea upon looking at the corpse of Jin Li-Jen, a boy he had killed not even an hour after meeting him. Indeed, he had killed Jin within three minutes and fourty three seconds of seeing him for the first time.

In ancient times, warriors would sometimes take the heads of their slain enemies as trophies. In celebration of surviving yet another battle, and making sure their enemies did not. Suddenly, he had the thought, why couldn't he do that exact thing? Rather fitting, he supposed. So he did. He crouched down next to the corpse's head and placed the knife's blade right above the Adam's apple, the very bottom of the head. Then, using long sawing motions, he started to decapitate his first kill of the game. Even though the boning knife was designed to remove bones from meat, and just happened to be a good weapon with it's slightly curved blade and sharp tip, Walter still had difficulty, especially as the blood started to make his hand slip on the handle of the knife. As he emotionlessly sawed through bone, meat and gristle, grunting from exertion, he wondered whether or not he would remove Jin's head before dulling the blade. Finally, after taking up about fourty minutes of work, he got through the last of the small bundle of nerves and bone just above the spine (on the opposite end of the neck from where he had started to cut), causing the head to come off and stay in his hand, as he had grabbed the head and raised it up to cut better when he got near the back. Sighing in relief, he placed the head down and wiped his brow, dragging the boning knife's blade across the back of Jin's hand to see if it was still sharp. It was, as the additional cut proved. Getting up, he walked into the bathroom and numbly turned on the sink, washing the blood off of his hands and the knife (both handle and blade), making sure to thoroughly dry both hands and knife before putting the knife in his pocket and leaving the room, not even bothering to close the door to the bathroom. Walking over to the doorway, he picked up his pack and moved it towards the corpse, placing the head in wordlessly. He was very tired, and didn't think at all about it. He was just going through the motions, like a disinterested actor who was trying to pretend that he gave a damn so the director wouldn't fire him. As he walked over to the side of the bed and placed his pack there, it suddenly dawned on him that he had to pee. Looking to the corpse, and then to the bathroom, he decided that the corpse was closer and would make for a better toilet for now. It didn't matter, the boy was going to rot anyway, and he really didn't care if anyone saw his dick. Thus, he walked over to the corpse, and whipped it out, letting out a stream of urine that persisted for about half a minute before stopping, leaving a soaking urine stain in the middle of the former boy's coat. Zipping his pants back up after placing his member back inside, he walked over to the bed and, deciding he didn't want to sleep with a blood soaked shirt, removed it and placed it on the pack. He then took out his knife, put it on the nearby table/nightstand, and put himself under the bed's blankets.

He fell asleep almost instantly after.


Male Contestant No.38-Li-Jen, Jin- DEAD

Seth Mattlock
Oops. Was sure I caught that when I transferred the bio. Ah well, it's fixed. :P

Inactivity List
On that note, I'm currently waiting on word about Jin's rights, so I'll get to posting with Walter once that's straightened up. Sorry for the inconvienience.

Seth Mattlock
Name: Seth Mattlock
Gender: Male
Age:16
Grade: 10th
Extra Curricular Activity: Seth enjoys playing the guitar and is getting quite good. When he's not busy he plays in various bands as a stand in guitarist. Selling and buying weed, in and outside of school
School: Bathurst High

Appearance: Seth looks older than his actual age. He has well definhed features and a rugged look about him. He could grow a Half decent beard if he wanted too but he thinks it makes him look like a homeless guy. Instead he chooses to keep it down to stubble, which suits him well. He is littered with tiny scars and small marks where he has been in fights and took a beating. His hair isnt the shortest and is alot of the time styled in that "Just woke up" look,His golden brown locks are usually filled with hair wax. His nose is of a medium size and is quite thin, which gives an sinister appearance. His eyes are a Bright baby blue colour, he usually hides then with hides them with a pair of aviator sun glasses. He is wearing a tight white shirt and an old worn out leather jacket, His jeans are what would be called "Emo" Jeans and are black and he is wearing Army style boots.

Biography: One night in france, a police officer and a young american waitress got together and spawned a child. Seth Mattlock, The young renagade that spent the first three years of his life in paris. a wonderous city that he loved as a child, But as soon as they could his parents decided to move them along to good ol' america. For a time it was good, things were going well, his father gained a job as a police officer in the states and his mother became a housewive. All that would change when one day, his father was out patrolling the streets, He saw a drug deal going on. One of those shady gangster types passing a plastic bag full of white powder to a young 'twitchy' fellow in an allyway.
Shouting out to the and grabbing the stock of his gun he was about to start chasing them, The dealer instantly ran and the twitchy guy pulled out a gun of his own. Instinct kicked in and in one pull of a trigger he was dead. His father was stunned and shcoked at what he had done.

Soon he quit the police force and was for a while, out of work, Life got worse for the family. One night in a bar brawl, He beat his opponant to a bloody pulp, His father was given a job offer that very same night. A large man with a cigar, surrounded by men. yes, it was the mob, and they had a new recruit, Mr. Mattlock.
The money soon came flooding in and seth received pretty much all he could want. He was happy as ever, and even more happy to hang out at the club the mobsters owned. He soon became friends with the gang and they loved the young rebel, Giving him pocket money, sweets, alcahol, and when he got older, they gave him girls.
His school life was considerably good, He had a gang of his own there, He was their boss and he loved it. He would bully other kids, fight rival street gangs, smoke and drink untill he puked.
Their was one incident when a local rival gang got jealous of seths status in the town. They went to his home and broke in, Throwing flaming toilet rolls through smashed windows and catching his mother in a house fire. Though he stayed with her in the hospital untill he knew she was ok, all he wanted to do was find who ever did this.

He went on the prowell, quickly found out who it was from his mobster friends. He tracked the other gang leader down and beat him within an inch of his life. He put the boy in hospital, along with broken arms, legs, fingers and teeth. Since he was 14 he has been bringing his mobster friends business into school, selling weed and pills to the addicted students, and indulging in some of the products himself. He has also become a valued member of the mobsters gang, He has often been given the jpb of sorting out their younger clients who owe them money, usually involving him smashing there door in and giving them a few beatings before taking the money and leaving.

Out of the gangs that are going around, Seths is definately the smallest. It doesnt bother him thouhg. His gang are mostly made up of friends, people he can trust, and a couple of school drop outs that were kicked out of school last year. The fights they have been in have been many, and most of the time they are beaten. Its not that winning or the losing a fight that bothers him though, He just see's every fight as an oppurtunity To beat someone else half to death, the more the merrier, he doesnt care about his own body being hurt in the process, he knows the other guy will be just as fucked up. One incident goes back to fireworks night, He and one of his drug dealer friends had been drinking. When another of the smaller gangs came out of no where and started a fight with the two, After seeing his friend be head butted. Seth jumped into the crowd and started throwing punches and kicks left right and center. Although he was given a beating, he got back up and laughed, just happy he broke that one guys nose pretty badly. Although his laughing deserved him another beating.

Clique: He usually hangs around with his gang, the bullies of the school. Every now and again he'll befriend one of the nerdy types to help with school work. or he will hang around alone or go of school grounds to drink smoke weed or get into another fight.

Relationships:
Mariavel Varella - She's in his gang so he puts up with her, although she can be annoying her looks more than make up for it in seths eyes.
Richard Kingston - Admirers him for not giving into peer pressure and doing drugs, and although hes small he will fight anyone he can.
Bryan Calvert - He is seths favourite member, just for the fact that if he it came down to a fight he would have a good chance of kickin the shit out of seth.
Erick Rischio - The kid makes him laugh, easy to wind up and takes things a bit too seriously sometimes.
Alexander stevens - The leader of a rival gang. Him and seth have never gotten along with each other but they have yet to beat the crap out of each other. Although he wouldent mind a one on one with him.

Other: He's neither a good guy, or bad. He just goes on what he feels like doing at the time. Its likely that since he was brought up around the mob he will decide to play the game and show himself to be strong for them. But if he finds someone he truely likes, he will defend them. He is cocky by nature, probally because of his upbringing he thinks he is invincible. He has always had the mobsters to back him up and protect but now they wont be here, He'll have to take full responsibility for his actions now.

As I've said before, I got permission from Meg to adopt, for lack of a better term, Seth. I figured it would've been a waste to have him regulated to merely a background NPC.

Seth Mattlock
Name: Seth Mattlock
Gender: Male
Age:16
Grade: 10th
Hobbies and Interests: Leader of the Bloody Fists, a so-called gang of school bullies. They are arguably the smallest gang in Denton, even among the minor gangs, and they're rivals with the Hellbirds, one of the largest, due to Bathurst literally being in the middle of the Hellbirds' territory. Really though, it doesn't matter to him, seeing as he sees the Fists as more a group of friends than an all out gang (they're not even criminal, except for Seth's occasional drug dealing).

Seth also enjoys playing the guitar and is getting quite good. When he's not busy he plays in various bands as a stand in guitarist. Selling and buying weed, in and outside of school
School: Bathurst High
Homeroom: Mrs. Guisse's homeroom.
Appearance: Seth looks older than his actual age. He has well definhed features and a rugged look about him. He could grow a Half decent beard if he wanted too but he thinks it makes him look like a homeless guy. Instead he chooses to keep it down to stubble, which suits him well. He is littered with tiny scars and small marks where he has been in fights and took a beating. His hair isnt the shortest and is alot of the time styled in that "Just woke up" look,His golden brown locks are usually filled with hair wax. His nose is of a medium size and is quite thin, which gives an sinister appearance. His eyes are a Bright baby blue colour, he usually hides then with hides them with a pair of aviator sun glasses. He is wearing a tight white shirt and an old worn out leather jacket, His jeans are what would be called "Emo" Jeans and are black and he is wearing Army style boots.

Biography: One night in france, a police officer and a young american waitress got together and spawned a child. Seth Mattlock, The young renagade that spent the first three years of his life in paris. a wonderous city that he loved as a child, But as soon as they could his parents decided to move them along to good ol' america. For a time it was good, things were going well, his father gained a job as a police officer in the states and his mother became a housewive. All that would change when one day, his father was out patrolling the streets, He saw a drug deal going on. One of those shady gangster types passing a plastic bag full of white powder to a young 'twitchy' fellow in an allyway.
Shouting out to the and grabbing the stock of his gun he was about to start chasing them, The dealer instantly ran and the twitchy guy pulled out a gun of his own. Instinct kicked in and in one pull of a trigger he was dead. His father was stunned and shcoked at what he had done.

Soon he quit the police force and was for a while, out of work, Life got worse for the family. One night in a bar brawl, He beat his opponant to a bloody pulp, His father was given a job offer that very same night. A large man with a cigar, surrounded by men. yes, it was the mob, and they had a new recruit, Mr. Mattlock.
The money soon came flooding in and seth received pretty much all he could want. He was happy as ever, and even more happy to hang out at the club the mobsters owned. He soon became friends with the gang and they loved the young rebel, Giving him pocket money, sweets, alcahol, and when he got older, they gave him girls.
His school life was considerably good, He had a gang of his own there, He was their boss and he loved it. He would bully other kids, fight rival street gangs, smoke and drink untill he puked.
Their was one incident when a local rival gang got jealous of Seths status in the town. They went to his home and broke in, Throwing flaming toilet rolls through smashed windows and catching his mother in a house fire. Though he stayed with her in the hospital untill he knew she was ok, all he wanted to do was find who ever did this.

He went on the prowl, quickly found out who it was from his mobster friends. He tracked the other gang leader down and beat him within an inch of his life. He put the boy in hospital, along with broken arms, legs, fingers and teeth. Since he was 14 he has been bringing his mobster friends business into school, selling weed and pills to the addicted students, and indulging in some of the products himself. He has also become a valued member of the mobsters gang, He has often been given the jpb of sorting out their younger clients who owe them money, usually involving him smashing there door in and giving them a few beatings before taking the money and leaving.

Out of the gangs that are going around, Seths is definately the smallest. It doesnt bother him though. His gang are mostly made up of friends, people he can trust, and a couple of school drop outs that were kicked out of school last year. The fights they have been in have been many, and most of the time they are beaten. Its not that winning or the losing a fight that bothers him though, He just see's every fight as an oppurtunity To beat someone else half to death, the more the merrier, he doesnt care about his own body being hurt in the process, he knows the other guy will be just as fucked up. One incident goes back to fireworks night, He and one of his drug dealer friends had been drinking. When another of the smaller gangs came out of no where and started a fight with the two, After seeing his friend be head butted. Seth jumped into the crowd and started throwing punches and kicks left right and center. Although he was given a beating, he got back up and laughed, just happy he broke that one guys nose pretty badly. Although his laughing earned him another beating.
Up to now, he has lived a rather normal life by his standards, but future events are about to change that.

Advantages: Its likely that since he was brought up around the mob he will decide to play the game and show himself to be strong for them. But if he finds someone he truely likes, he will defend them. This will not only make him a likely motivator for the game, but give him an incentive to win. He is also a good fighter.
Disadvantages: He is cocky by nature, probally because of his upbringing he thinks he is invincible, this could hinder his attempts at alliances. He has always had the mobsters to back him up and protect but now they wont be here, He'll have to take full responsibility for his actions now. Also, if he can't find the other Fists, he might have a hard time surviving, not being able to have people willing to watch his back. He doesn't have firearms experience. Though he has been in fights, dealt drugs, has had a history of being disrespectful to authority and women and is all around an unsavory character, he has not killed before. This means his reaction to doing so would be a variable that could hinder him.

Number: Lowest available

Scrounging for gear.
What the...?

Needless to say, Walter Smith's temporary return to conscious thought when he saw his improvised weapon stick into Blake's chest but fail to kill him came at a very bad time. In the few split seconds he had spent staring in surprise before extracting the weapon (which had somehow not broken, a surprisingly sharp shard), Blake reached into his pocket and threw something at him. Said something was a clump of dirt, sand, and pebbles, and Blake was too close to Walter to miss. Indeed, he didn't, as the mass hit him dead on in the eyes. Letting out a surprised shout, he stumbled back, his left hand desperately rubbing at his eyes.

Shit! How could I have been so careless?!

Walter was crazy, but he wasn't stupid. Not even close. Thus, the instant the dirt entered his eyes, he knew he was in trouble. For all he knew, that very second, Blake was drawing a concealed gun and taking aim. Ergo, he did the only thing that made sense. He turned around, and ran like hell, moving in a slight zig-zag pattern to throw off Blake's possible aim. Assuming Blake did not pursue the man who just tried to kill him, Walter would eventually disappear around a corner, having limped onto a doorstep and fumbled with the knob until he managed to throw it open. He had his eyes partially open, but they were blurred and he was blinking frantically, so sight was almost impossible. Regardless, he struggled through the house, eventually finding one of the bathrooms by process of elimination. Moving over to the sink, his eyes red both from the irritation and the tears his body produced to try and wash out the dirt (and mostly succedded, there was only a small amount left), he placed the glass shard on the side of the sink and turned on the water, making sure it was cold water and cupping it in his hands, splashing it into his face to wash out his eyes. He would do this repeatedly until the dirt was washed out. Sighing in relief as he felt the last irritants leave his eyes, he rubbed the visual receptors of his body with his hands for a few seconds before taking up the shard again and leaving.

I will have to be more careful, from now on. he found himself thinking as he traced his steps back to where he remembered putting his bag. This was true, next time he might not be so lucky as to only get some dirt in the eyes. Picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he noticed Blake was no longer there. Quickly looking around to make sure that the boy wasn't right behind him, striking a killing blow, he sighed and shook his head.

"Looks like I have to start all over again." he muttered to himself, starting to walk away. Stopping briefly when he saw one camera, he turned his head to glare at it.

"I hope you're watching, Mister Wilson, because when I'm through with the rest of the scum you put on this island with me, I'm going after you next!"

With that said, Walter would silently leave the area, paying no heed to anyone except his own thoughts.

((Continued in Stopping for the Night))

Endgame Poll #4
Why the hell would you do that? He was easily one of the least interesting characters in the game.

Endgame Poll #4
No, pretty sure it was shown she didn't go manic depressive and almost kill herself. :P (since if I don't show I'm not entirely serious for fucking once, everyone will be trying to tear me apart. <_< )

Endgame Poll #4
Yeah, at least she didn't go as crazy as Lillian, though such a reaction would be pretty realistic.

Endgame Poll #4
Okay...who the fuck voted for Jack of all people? :blink: Anyway, confusion about that aside, I actually liked the portrayal of Danya best. Dunno why exactly.

Favorite SOTF Couplings
Really, I just voted for all the "canon" pairings. I've always preferred things that're established canon over things that aren't.

Scrounging for gear.
A small hissing sound would escape from Walter's mouth, still grinning insanely, as he exhaled while stepping back briefly, knocked back by the force of Blake's punch. He hadn't been expecting the boy to throw such a good shot, nor for said punch to hit as hard as it did. Quickly recovering from being winded by the punch, he saw Blake backed up against the large rock and moved forward again, drawing back the glass shard for another strike.

Kill it, kill it KILL IT!

These two words would loop endlessly in his mind as he pushed his hand forward, sending the shard at Blake's chest in a stabbing motion. If it worked, he would end up stabbing the boy right in the heart. While not the most efficient way to kill, such stabs worked well enough (after all, nobody has survived a stab to the heart before, or at least as far as Walter knew), and Walter could use the extra time it'd take for Blake to die from such a wound to vent some frustrations on the boy. Frustrations from being kidnapped in the first place, from being betrayed by a confidant of his father's, and from countless other sources. The look in his eyes did not change, but subconsciously the glare he wore deepened. It was clear that Male Contestant No.15, Walter Smith, was implacable, hell bent on murder. The beligerant caretaker years ago had seen this look, the Jackals had seen it, the Hellbirds had seen it, even innocent individuals who had done nothing but live in Denton and cross his path one day had seen it.

And now, Blake Ross was looking it right in the eye. People usually used the term "beast of a man" to refer to someone of great physical size and stature, but it would be a more fitting descriptor of a man who acted somewhat like an animal, savage and feral. Such a description would easily fit Walter as he attempted to murder the first person he had met since his class had been gassed (for the second time, really it was a miracle that the gas didn't kill anyone either time) and dumped on the island.

Scrounging for gear.
Heh. He's making this too easy! Walter thought as he charged towards Blake, a boy he had seen once or twice in homeroom but didn't really know. His rock throw had missed when the boy ducked behind a boulder that was inexplicably in one of the houses' garden, but Blake had soon after stepped out from it, calling out to Walter before seeming to realize that the six foot tall psychopath was charging at him with an improvised knife in hand. Walter had not responded to the call, after all, when one is barreling towards a classmate with the intend to stab them to death with a piece of broken glass, idle chatter is the last thing on ones mind. Such was the case with Walter, whose eyes had gained a mean, wild quality the instant he had started his attack. Like a predator. Pure rage and bloodlust were the only things he was feeling at the moment.

Kill the scum, tear it to shreds! Slice it to rags and use it as rations! It must not live! this was the demented inner voice of Walter, the source of his insane urges, his acts of violence, his bouts of uncontrolled rage. It was not an alternate personality, more like a hidden aspect of him, spurring him on to do the deeds the rumors spoke of. The look in his eyes was now matched with a wild grin on his face, wide enough to show most of his top and bottom teeth. Still grinning, he continued to charge, now going into a sort of bounding gait, raising the shard as he did so.

"Die!" he screamed at Blake, lunging at him and swinging the shard in a motion similar to a right hook, aimed at the carotid artery on Blake's neck. If it was a successful attack, it would be quick and efficient, and if not he could still recover in time.

I'm the only one of these wretches that deserves life, I'll kill them all!

OOC: Yeah, I fixed the weapon thing. Sorry it's pretty short, I'm kind of tired and rushed it.