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The Cavalry Arrives
((Anna Chase continued from Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!))

Walking, walking.

Really, again, was she dreaming all this?

As Chase followed the man leading her friend, she couldn't help but wonder. She had found Brendan. And now she was about to escape. Boats! All over the beach, apparently! Collars off! Home!

Was this a dream? She meant that not in a "my mind is having trouble processing all this trauma" or a "this shit is surreal" sort of way, but in a "it's too good to be true" sort of way.

Really, it was indeed too good to be true.

But if it was a dream, it was a weird one for having Brendan get beaten up and for her to lose her shit like that.

It was kind of scary back there. She was genuinely worried that Brendan was going to die, after all. And that freak out... in hindsight, she kind of scared herself with that, now that she'd calmed down. It wasn't normal for her to get that angry, that was for certain.

What if her mental fortitude had been weaker, and it remained permanent? What if that guy didn't jump in? Would she have flat-out killed Kitty, or get killed herself? Was she really that close to a player deep down, and she had the potential to be right next to Lombardi and Ishida?



No, she did the right thing.



Brendan would have died if she hadn't done anything. Despite the yelling and hitting people with shovels, she ultimately helped save him. Her and... whoever this guy was, with his gun and him being a big damn hero that showed up right at the correct time.

In any case, she was here to protect him some more. She wasn't sure who his friend was, but he had been a big help and was able to protect him too. This guy looked vaguely familiar, though. Chase knew he was a classmate of hers, obviously. But it seemed like his name was on the tip of her tongue.

So Brendan's friend went ahead to explain the situation to what appeared to be the leader, or at least some kind of authority figure.

Chase found herself staring at Brendan.



He... didn't look so good, obviously.

Kitty had done quite a number. He was missing teeth and everything. Holy shit. Was he going to die if he stayed here?

Now that the idea of escape was right there, she wasn't sure that being home was such a good idea after all that she been through. Chase knew that after that kind of trauma it was hard readjusting. There was no way that even just returning home would be easy. In fact, in some ways being back home could be worse.

She'd have to live with the knowledge that she was one of the few who escaped, for one. That would mean that she'd have to live with Dawne, Jon, Rekka, Marty, Ben, Michelle, Joshua, and god knew who else dying and not making it home. It would mean that they really were gone, and that she had to live many years without them. She wouldn't watch movies with Jon again, or go to anime conventions with Dawne. She'd never really get to know Joshua, Ben, Michelle, or Marty in a context that didn't involve people dying. She would have to completely face it if she returned home.

And she knew how some people knew it was fake, or even if they knew it was real continued to watch it. Chase wasn't a big fan of SOTF from the start, but what she knew about it she learned from Jon. And one thing was certain; she was going to have to be seen as a "fictional character". So in other words, even right at this moment people were talking about her as such online.

Things like "Anna Chase is such a slut who just kept whining and bitching throughout her time JUST SHOOT HER ALREADY" or "I really think Chase was a moron. Die stupid emo bitch". She knew fandom, she knew fandom very well. And it wouldn't be just her, either: "God damn it, stupid Dawne, stupid slutty Dawne", "Jarocki is such a tool!", "MARTY STOP YELLING YOU STUPID ASS!", and stuff along those lines were things she could only picture what they were saying right at this moment. In some of the more idiotic sides of fandom, the word "slutty" was tossed around like confetti, and there were some people who just bitched and moaned.

And now not only did she have to deal with these people, but now these people had a license to talk shit about not only her, but her dead friends as well. For the rest of her life. There wasn't going to be a break from it.

And speaking of which, she knew that people weren't going to react well once they found out she survived SOTF. Even if she never hurt anyone, it was going to form a large part of who she was and how people had seen her from this point forward. Employers would refuse to give her jobs based on this fact. She'd have trouble getting to know people the minute they learn she was a survivor.

It was part of who she was, now. There was no escaping it.

And she was probably going to be like those guys in the army, who never left the war. She was still worried about becoming like those army guys. Being like an army guy wasn't fun. Of course, not all army guys were wrecks. She had family members who served in the army, and they turned out fine. But things like this wrecked you.

So, needless to say, she had her doubts about whether or not it was a good idea to get on the boat.

Did she really deserve to live? So many people who could have lived, who would have jumped at this opportunity. And they were gone, and she was here. So many of her friends would have been on that boat within seconds. Make no mistake about that. And there were people stronger that her, more resilent, that deserved to make it home.

But then she remembered. This was the only shot at medical help for Brendan right at this moment. And she couldn't just abandon him. He'd.. he'd want her nearby, right? She had to help him. Even if she was a little weakling. She still had the capability to save his life. She already saved it once, even if he was injured by the end. She had to get him on the boat, even if it meant dealing with all the problems that would surface back home. Even if it meant that she would be a PTSD ridden mess the minute she stepped back in America.

Abandoning your friends, that was what cats did. Chase still hated cats. They hissed and yowled and scratched and beat up people with bats just because they went through things everyone else did. Rabbits were much better. She liked rabbits, like Jojo.

Going with him was the rabbit thing to do.

As she glanced at their new friend, he waved back at them, and Chase waved back, smiling.

A genuine smile.

Besides. She had promised herself that she was going to try to live and be a good person for everyone who had died. If she had stayed, she would be back to crying at the camera and trying to rip her collar off. Even if she didn't, staying would be right on par with that.

As they approached, Brendan put his friend into a hug.


She called to the... authority figure.

"YO! You... you... you have to help him! He's wounded and needs help, and I bet you can do something, right? He needs to be in a hospital or some-something!"

Oh, and...?

"I'd like to return home, t-too! I mean, just remove my col... our collars, and we'll go!"


#G010 Anna Chase- ELIMINATED



Oh jesus, was she making a lot of requests.

"Erm, s-sorry if I'm asking too much. I guess I'll ask for a cheeseburger, milkshake and fr... fries?"



Actually, now that she mentioned it, a milkshake sounded good.

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
It was accidental.

That gunshot... that guy... that... thing.

He didn't mean to, apparently. Somehow the gun went off and killed someone.

And apparently Danya had a death squad. That wasn't a good sign.

Was he lying? Was this still a hallucination? Or was this the truth? Chase didn't know. All she knew was what was happening. Brendan was here, and they were getting pissed off at Kitty. That was what was happening, apparently. If it was happening at all.

But... Kitty didn't seem to like being called crazy.

Not at all.



And everything went to shit once more.


She lunged herself at Brendan, and Chase felt herself collapsing. There seemed to be five seconds of blackness, until she opened her eyes again.

Oh god, no.

That dreamlike sensation popped in again, as she watched the bat swing down and down repeatedly. Chase could only watch as Brendan was hit with it repeatedly, and the gun was torn out of his hands.

She couldn't do anything.

Even as she told herself that she'd defend herself and find Brendan, when it came to practice she couldn't do it. She couldn't defend her or Brendan.

A weakling. That was what she was, deep down.

There was nothing she could do.

They were going to die. She didn't want to lose Brendan too. She'd already lost everything else. She had no living friends, no one who cared about her, nothing.

Brendan wasn't a hallucination, she had realized. He was the real deal. And now he was getting hurt. And it was her fault. Everything was her fault.

She had to do something. But what? She couldn't figure it out-

Chase moved her hand slightly, only to come across a long, thin object.

The shovel! It still lay where she dropped it!

Slowly lifting herself off the ground, she picked the object up with shaking hands, her teeth gritting tightly. As she approached Kitty, she could tell she wasn't paying that much attention to her.

That dreamlike sensation continued even more, as Chase felt like she was doing things on automatic. She wasn't really even thinking, but she knew what she was feeling.

Fear. Anger.

Just like when Marty died.

THWACK!

Before she even knew it, the shovel had connected with Kitty. She barely registered a cracking sound, like fireworks. Kitty stared up at her, glaring at her.

Chase went for another swing, but Kitty started running behind a pew, only to fall over.

And her first reaction? Stomp towards her with shovel still on hand.

"You beat him up. You... you... you left me to die at the hands of Nancy FUCKING Wainright! That means you're crazy! Crazy people do that shit! I mean, how DARE YOU! HE. WAS. MY ONLY. LIVING. FRIEND!"

She didn't care what was coming out of her mouth. Occasionally she could notice herself panting heavily.

"Fuck, you know what? Leave. Just... g-get out of here. Or else you'll... you'll... get hit more! Okay? I DON'T WANT YOU TO BEAT HIM UP ANYMORE YOU BITCH! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
Brendan- or at least his visage- started talking again.

He was telling her to step away? Why did she? Wait, did Kitty kill someone and she didn't know? What? Did he see her before? Apparently he picked up on something before she did. Or maybe herself. She wasn't sure which was which anymore, really.

But Chase followed his instructions, and stepped back. Not much needed to follow them, anyways. After all, there was a crazy drunk girl throwing glass bottles around. That would cause anyone to back off.

Brendan started talking to her. Okay, one point against hallucination. There was still hope. Because afterwards, Kitty replied back.



Only with the "not drunk" argument, of course.


And then she attempted to tell them how much it sucked. How she'd felt lost these past... eight days. Had it really been that long? Felt like longer, really. Like a few years had passed by since she had first woken up at the fairground. It was quite a long time ago, really. Or maybe not, based on that eight days comment. So, just over a week.

But she understood what it was like to be here. She knew very well.

"Kitty, you're... you're n-not the only one suffering. I got robbed first thing, r-remember? I had to deal with a bunch-unch of people dying. I had to deal with many other things. I almost died like..."

She counted in her head. Nancy pointing a gun at her and robbing her. Running into Rasputin- twice. The argument on the beach. Running into Rachel Gettys. Being stuck in a dangerzone afterwards. Having Michelle point a crossbow at you. Having just barely avoided seeing Quincey Jones. She could have been killed by Nick Reid, as well. Add in the suicide attempt, and...

"Ten times."

That was too much for eight days. And that wasn't counting things she forgot to add in simply because she forgot.

"Look. You're not the only one s-suffering here. Are you seriously g-going to be pissed off simply because you're probably g-going through some-something everyone else here has?"

Turning to the Brendan visage, she felt the need to say something.

"Uh... I'll shut my mouth, now."

Awkward smile this time.

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
Kitty had given her the "no, I'm not drunk I'm perfectly fine" spiel, only it was... rather angry.

Oh boy. Kitty just might be a violent drunk after all. Which was, of course, not a good thing. It only increased her chances of getting attacked, obviously. So yeah, great. There was a girl who was drunk, potentially violent, and pissed off at her.

Joy.

She insisted she needed someone to talk to. Was she that lonely? Chase knew she was lonely herself, but talking to a violent drunk wasn't going to make her... un-lonely? No, that wasn't a word. Of course it wasn't a word. But that was besides the point. The point was that this girl was potentially violent, with alcohol only making it much worse.

But right at that moment, the doors opened, and upon turning to look, Chase dropped her shovel.


She wasn't seeing things, right?


She knew that if you spend a lot of time by yourself in a traumatic situation, sometimes your mind will make things up. A lot of movies she had seen had told her that. Sometimes people would see their dead wives, or their dead children. Sometimes people will see monsters, or they will see all sorts of crazy stuff.

So maybe that was it. Maybe she finally cracked.

Because fate didn't love her enough to say that she would find Brendan so easily, despite her past attempts.

Right?

"Bren?" she murmured quietly.

Head tilt to the left.

Yup. She'd lost it. There was no way that he could be standing here, right now, looking at her.

Even if she did, who was to say that he'd be the same? A number of things could have happened, and he could have gone crazy. The real Brendan, for all she knew, could have been hacking bodies left right and center. She must have been hallucinating or something, right? Just in an attempt to deal with all this? She'd heard somewhere that you weren't crazy if you acknowledged the possibility of being such, but you never know.

But at least her mind was kind enough to let her see him once last time.

Should she actually check to see if he was real? Maybe just run up and see if he was physical by hugging him? Would he like that, though? Would he react well? She had no idea what he'd been through-

Kitty snapped Chase out of her thoughts, with a loud clatter and scream. She whipped her head to her, to see that she had banged the bottle against the side of a pew, spilling booze everywhere.

Oh jesus. She was even more pissed.

"Look. Just... stop talking for the moment. You're... y-you're digging yourself deeper", she found herself snapping.

No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan
((Guess who needs to live? Inactivity avoidance post))

Aaron had tried the basic method of asking him what he wanted.

DuClare, however...

Oh fucking shit.

Oh, oh fucking shit.

Did she have a fucking death wish?! Did she want to get shot? Really, Aileen couldn't put up with this shit right now. This douchebag could just go and rot right now, for all she cared. He had no right to just jump in front of them and tell them how much they screwed up.

And now she was forcing herself in front of his gun, too? Fucking hell. Aileen didn't want any more death, especially right now. She really didn't want to deal with some girl who had some kind of suicidal tendency at this moment, either. Was she really trying to get herself killed?!

Ailee felt herself continue to clench and relax her hand, still angered by the asshole's yelling.

"DuClare... stop. Don't... don't... don't..." she attempted to say, but it only came out like a broken record. Her voice had turned into a quiet tone.

But she figured it out.

"DuClare. Stop throwing yourself in front of guns. Please? Pl..."

She felt herself starting to cry again.

Whenever Aileen was upset about something, she'd often try to snark it off, subtly (or sometimes blatantly) trying to insult something about it. It was her way of coping with things, you see.

And now even that tactic didn't work. Aileen had very little to say.

Looking at the new arrival again, she tried once more. Her lip curled in frustration, her hands still clenching, and tears still running down her cheeks. No more of this shit. No fucking more. He should just run the fuck away. Go fucking away.

"Look... just... go. None of us are willing to deal with this right now. You have no right to come over here and tell us we screwed up. Mind leaving us alone?"

It was, of course, a bit more calmer than last time. But the tone... the tone still wasn't very pleasant.

It was already starting to be a long day.

V5 Concepts Thread
Quote:
 
@Kamikins: Ah, good old bitchy popular girls, those are a must-have for a school like this. I happen to know several so-called popular girls at my school like this: they're the queen bee of their clique, yet one of them is a massive Pokemon fan, with hundreds of collectors items and all the games and cards and stuff like that. I can see how it would be different at an American school, since not everyone would be as accepting of a bitchy girl like Miranda being obsessed with anime, since it's a somewhat less acceptable mainstream hobby over there? Anyway, have you got any plans for who's gonna be in her bitch-clique?


Well, in a way, it's... kind of unacceptable to be obsessed with anime. I don't know about Aussies (though I do remember as a child that anime was everywhere in Australia, and each morning I'd watch things like Sailor Moon, Pokemon, and Dragonball Z before heading off to school), but the stereotype in at least America is one of two things; you're a) a frothing fangirl who keeps yelling about "bishies" and catgirls, and can't talk for two minutes without using a Japanese word, or b) a loser who doesn't go outside very often and watches only hentai featuring small children, and is generally a creepy, perverted loser. Of course, it's not a "BURN TO DEATH" thing for most people in America, but it's kind of a ":/" thing for some people.

But it's not just an American thing; it's also generally a Miranda thing as well. I'm sorry, I must use a trope term and link here, but Miranda is supposed to, in a way, be a Stepford Smiler. She kind of has a bad habit of trying to make herself look like the role of "the girl who is better than you and will let everyone know", when in actuality she's actually a girl with a few issues about how people view her (for whatever reason), who just wants to sit down and watch some anime, and the whole idea of being that bitchy popular girl is, although she won't admit it even to herself, stressing her out. As I said, she's supposed to be kind of a perfectionist, and if she slips up the facade at all, it's over; she won't be the alpha bitch anymore. To her, even having a "geeky" interest known will somehow damage that image!

So, generally, she's supposed to be one of those people who act like confident, arrogant assholes to cover up their own issues with self-image, and ironically she would be a lot more well-liked if she was just some girl who didn't try to make herself look like the alpha bitch. She apparently thinks that playing that role is the only way for people to like her, even though, again, ironically she'd be more well-liked if she didn't play it up.

.... Annnnnnnd I just realized she sounds a bit like a female version of V3's Warren Pace. *Hopefully* I can write her in a way that doesn't seem like a rip-off or something along those lines. O_o

As for the clique question, not yet! The only connection she has right now is Mr. Creepy, a.k.a. Byron Marsh. She... doesn't like him. XD

@ Tre- Ah, thank you!

So, probably not completely deaf, but more that she can't hear some things but can others? Seems reasonable enough. And I should keep note of those things, as well. Maybe on a few occasions allude to the things you described, both in posts and in her profile. Like hint at her needing to sit at the front, and the fact that they'd be keeping an eye on her on the trip.

It's probably not going to be her only character trait, so don't worry guys. I'm thinking of her being kind of a disability rights activist, and generally into activism. Another thing I'm toying with is giving her some kind of "sporty" interest. No, definitely not parkour, martial arts, gun training, or anything like that. I personally feel like you need to look at basic school sports teams and things like that first before you look at things like that; after all, not only are school sports more common, but they can give a pretty good physical advantage somewhere along the line of those cliches. I'm thinking either cheerleading or wrestling team, but I need to do some quick research to see what the rules are about students with disabilities and sports teams before I add it in first. So, away I go to check it out!

... Ah, just checked to see that "The DDA states that it's against the law for schools to discriminate against a child for a reason related to their disability. This includes school sports. Schools and Local Education Authorities should make 'reasonable adjustments' to their premises, policies and procedures where they disadvantage disabled pupils." (source) This also says pretty much the same thing, as well. So as long as I stay reasonable with it, like most characters, I should be fine in that area. XD

Anyways, thanks again Tre. I should save what you said somewhere and use it as a reference when I write her profile or something. XD


Also, I now have an idea where to go with steampunk person!

Alexandra "Alex" Anderson- A girl with a fondness for steam punk, and science fiction in general. She's always had a bit of a fascination with Victorian times, actually. So, anyways, she's a science fiction and steampunk nerd. She's an online roleplayer, and currently is a member of a steampunk RP. She plays as a character named "Jackie Ripper", who, surprisingly enough, isn't a serial killer of any kind.

She's also a bit of a law nut, and wants to get some kind of job based around law enforcement in some way (most likely a lawyer). She finds the idea of laws and such to be a lot more interesting than how a lot of people see them. So yes, law nut.

I originally wanted her to be a member of a band of some kind, but after a bit of thinking, and after seeing what Casey had to say on the matter, I'm willing to go with the marching band idea. Lord knows we need a marching/school band. It sounds like a fun idea!

As far as personality goes, she's a little on the "fiery" side in regards to temperament, in that she does get angry easily, but she's overall actually pretty friendly otherwise, with a fair amount of energy to her. She's not popular, but she's not a loner either. She probably has a few friends with similar interests, obviously.

So overall: Alex is a steampunk and general science fiction nerd who roleplays online and loves laws. And I might decide to have her be on the school band.

What do you think?

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
Well, her name was indeed Kitty.

And she was sure that blur from the first day had a portion of blue near the top. She was sure of it. The blue was fading here and barely visible in the light, but there. And she looked familiar, as well. Like Chase had known her from before, in a class or something along those lines.

She didn't seem to realize her joke about the brownies and ice cream was... well, a joke, either. Did she seriously think that she was expecting to find melted ice cream in a fridge or something? It wouldn't last that long. It would become ice milk and then warm sugary chocolate flavored yogurt. At best. She didn't know how exactly milky things rotted in cases like this. Nor did she wish to find out. Well, she had a basic idea of how rotted milk tasted, based on that time she had grabbed a small carton past its expiration date in the cafeteria when she was younger (the last time she had eaten cafeteria food, actually). But the point remained.

What was this about hiding? Chase wasn't sure if hiding would work if she was off looking for Brendan. She wanted to see him again, damn it. He was probably the only person she had left in the world, and she wasn't sure if he would still be the same guy if she saw him. Hiding wasn't going to help her find him. Actually looking would. She didn't want to lose him as well, like she lost everyone else.

"Uh.... thanks? I c-can't really hide though. Looking for someone."

And then an explanation for the girl's behavior in the past few seconds. A bottle had been in her hands this entire time. Well, now she knew why she was acting like that.

And to be honest, she wasn't sure if it was a curse or a blessing. On one hand, it meant that she would be uncoordinated and confused if she attacked. On the other, it could increase her chances of getting attacked, if she made the wrong decision. Kitty had said that she had nothing to worry about, but you know. Drunk chick who could react in any way? Yeah. Usually not a good thing.

Chase continued to force that smile, despite her heart once more beating rapidly. Well, she should try to stay calm.

Another deep breath.

"Look. I think you're drunk."

Well, one didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out.

"And... uh... I guess I'll be heading-ing out soon. D-don't want to d-deal with p-people who not only couldn't h-help me, but are d-drunk-" she said hastily, but stopped herself.

Not only did her frustrated tone seep out just a little bit more, but she pretty much almost made it clear she was upset about earlier. Of course she would be upset about earlier. She had left her to die, and at the hands of Nancy Wainright, at that. She had just talked to that guy while she was being dragged away. Oh don't worry, the little blind girl could fight her off. It was a miracle she made it out okay, to be honest.

And it was kind of a miracle she wasn't screaming at Kitty on the spot, too.

Her hand was gripping the handle of the shovel a bit tighter. Nervous? Yeah, she was. Drunk people were unpredictable and... well, drunk. Add in personal experience of dealing with psychos in the past, and... well, you know. Plus the fact that, as noted, the drunk girl had left her to die.

That'd make anyone a little frustrated and nervous. A little, actually?

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
As Chase pushed aside various pieces of shattered pew, she knew one thing;

Her search was getting fruitless.

There was nothing here, at least in this pile of what was left of a set of pews. No food, nothing. Maybe she could look at what was available to her elsewhere in the building, but after searching for several minutes she wasn't sure if anything could pop up here.

Pushing aside one more shattered piece of wood, she was about to stand up, only...

Chase's head snapped up as someone suddenly approached out of nowhere.

Something about her voice and to some extent her appearance seemed familiar... but Chase couldn't put her finger on it. But no matter who it was, there was a good chance it wasn't a good thing they were there. Probably not. It proved one thing; she wasn't alone. Someone was, of course, in here with her. She stood up, and started backing towards the bag and shovel. Quickly, she reached down and grabbed her shovel.

"Uh, thanks. I was just... ah... l-l-looking for food, is all-"

She stopped herself in mid-sentence, having realized who she was talking to.

She figured out where she'd heard that voice before. It was so long ago, it was like a dream. And like all memories she had, it was a blur. Not just in the metaphorical sense like most of her memories, but in the literal sense.

And needless to say, she wasn't very happy about it.

First day. Kitty or whatever her name was had tried to help her. Then Gracie approached. And she and that other fuckhead had left her to die. They only stood there and talked while she was being mugged and with possible threat to her life.

Chase gripped the shovel, feeling a little frustrated.

For most of her time on the island, she had blamed herself for various things that happened to her and other people. Get mugged? You're too weak. Ex and best friend die? Your fault for screwing things up in the most literal sense. Marty gets injured? Couldn't stop it. Rekka gets beaten to death? Still your fault. Ben abandons you and gets killed? Should have kept your promise to protect him. Marty and Josh die? You just stood there and watched.

Before, whenever bad things happened, Chase would try to continue life with a smile. She even once joked to herself that if the world were to end tomorrow, she's be serving tea and cakes and chatting jovially while everyone else was freaking out. It wasn't that she was naturally calm, it was that she didn't like people seeing her as weak. Well, the game had proven her to be weak, that was for certain, so there wasn't much use for that nowadays.

And another thing was certain; for the first time in a while, Chase wasn't automatically blaming herself for bad things, and allowing bad things to happen. Instead, she was feeling a little cross at someone else. Not like the freak-out she had over Nick Reid, but different.

But, instead, she tried to put on that tea-and-cake serving smile. Well, she had to deal with her, right? Even if she didn't want to. Maybe leave in a few seconds.

"Hey... you're Kitty, right? I think I kind of r-recognize you... first day..."

She had tried to smile and be friendly while saying that, but a touch of contempt had popped up in the tone. She was still a little irritated at being left behind, after all.

Stay calm, deep breath.

"Thank you. I... I think I'll search elsewhere, then. There's a village nearby, right? Probably plenty of food! Maybe they have ice cream and cakes and brownies and stuff. I'd like that, no?"

There. She even added a bit of joking in.

Hopefully this Kitty didn't turn into the skull-cup using kid while she wasn't looking. God, she didn't want to deal with another skull-cup. Russian Monk Guy, Nick, Rachel, and Quincy were bad enough. She'd just barely survived those, and some people she knew didn't.

But she wasn't going to let her guard down again.

She was weak before, but not anymore. At least, she hoped so.

No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan
He begged her to stop, but Aileen knew she had to. Hopefully he would be safe, right? If it started to hurt, she'd stop right there and try her best to patch up whatever injuries he had.

Oh, but if she had been in any better a mental state, then what happened next would have been something she would have protested against a bit more.

The electricity transferred from the wire to Milo's collar, but it... didn't work.

He screamed. It wasn't just a small cry of pain. She could tell it genuinely hurt. It wasn't a good sound, and it was clear that not only wasn't working, but it was hurting him.

Aileen ripped the wire away as quickly as possible, and stepped back. No, she had to stop this right then and there! No use trying again if it hurt and didn't work! And he was injured. She didn't even need to look. He was pleading with her, looking up at her like some sort of injured animal. A smell of burnt flesh had filled the air, like some sort of demented barbecue.

She'd hurt him.

He was a douche, sure. But she'd never wish something like that on anyone. She didn't know that much about electricity. But she knew one thing; getting electrocuted was probably among the most painful things you could go through.



And then the beeping started.


Aileen could only watch as he started pleading with her again, but she was paralyzed with fear. What could she do? She couldn't save him. They'd noticed. Either that or the collar had gone off just from the electricity. It didn't matter at this point in what was going to happen next

There was a crack like a firework, and Aileen closed her eyes on instinct. She didn't want to look. He wasn't screaming anymore. She had already guessed what had happened.

But, she had to look. She was responsible for it.

Aileen opened her eyes again.

Milo was lying on the ground, his head resting in his own blood. The burnt barbecue smell continued to fill the air, like strange incense. Even now, he seemed to be staring at her, begging for this not to happen. But there was no life in those eyes.

"Aaron..." she tried to say, but her voice wavered.


A chill went up and down her body.

She was a murderer. Make no mistake about that. She'd killed him. And she knew how much it hurt, based on how long and loud he was screaming. Even if he somehow survived, he wouldn't have lasted for long.

What did she do?

Oh god, what did she do?

With shaking hands, Aileen removed the stripping wire from the camera's wire, and tossed it and the gloves as far as she could. She... didn't want them to be used again.

And she could hear yelling. Wearily moving her head towards the cause, she could see DuClare and Aaron arguing. According to her, he didn't deserve to be calm about this, and was grabbing the barrel of the gun asking him to...

No. She wasn't begging for him to shoot her, was she?

Aileen stared with transfixed eyes. If this was a different Aileen from before, one who hadn't been exposed to so much death, one who hadn't killed someone, then she would have just sighed and asked them to break it up, possibly while yelling.

But for once, Aileen couldn't say anything. She opened her mouth, and no words came out.

Aaron was upset. To be honest, she wasn't sure if he was sad, if he was disappointed his plan didn't work, or just upset because he was supposed to.

And DuClare tried to comfort him.

Aileen wasn't sure how to react to all this. It was like she was watching a movie, rather than partaking in real life. Only, however, she was seeing through her own eyes rather than a lens.

She felt something in her stomach suddenly, and she knew what was about to happen. The burnt corpse, Milo's death, DuClare and Aaron arguing, and her killing someone... oh jesus. The taste of bile was coming up in her mouth.

Aileen collapsed to the ground on her hands and knees, and, well, vomited.

As she breathed heavily from the stress and felt herself shiver, feeling like her body wanted to heave again, she could hear someone talking to them again. It wasn't everyone in the group, that was for certain. And it probably wasn't those guys that Aaron had scared off with the gun.

Aileen looked up.

It was another guy, glaring at them. He must have seen everything that had just happened. This guy wore all black, and looked kind of jockish. And he just literally just added flames to the fire.

Who was this asshole? He had just apparently witnessed someone getting electrocuted to death by accident, and had just came over with a cigarette and started telling them what idiots they were? Not "Oh my god, is he okay?!" but more "you're idiots!".

He was rubbing their failure in their faces. Saying that Milo deserved it or something along those lines.

Aileen's fist clenched against the ground, and she once again started shaking, this time from anger. No one deserved that. He was just wandering over, telling them how much they screwed up.

Lifting herself off the ground as best as she could while avoiding her own vomit, she glared at him, feeling herself seethe as both hands loosened and tightened.

He had no right to just come over here and call them morons, rubbing their failure in their face and insulting a dead person. No one should insult a fucking dead person, especially one who had just died and you just witnessed the death of.

And the only words she could come up were...

"Fuck. Off. Seriously. Who are you, and why do you feel the fucking need to tell us where we screwed up? Because it isn't like we're FREAKING OUT OVER HERE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST JUST GO AWAY GO FUCK OFF AND PLAY YOUR DUMBASS KILLER GAMES!"

Aileen felt tears running down her face as she yelled.

She didn't want to deal with this.

Not right now.

V5 Concepts Thread
Alright, my concepts so far:

Miranda Millers: I think this is one you guys have heard by now. XD

She's basically your standard "bitchy popular girl" type. Tries to be fashionable, mean to less "popular" girls, rich and so on. But she's also hella neurotic. I'm thinking that she's kind of a perfectionist type who tries to make herself look like the girl who has everything and is generally awesome, who could be having an anxiety attack while keeping a smile and mocking the "weird" "uncool" girls. I might actually write her with a mild anxiety disorder of some kind, or possibly hint that her perfectionist, "elitist" attitude being linked to her family in some way (parental pressures?) to explain it.

Her perfectionism also extends to little ways, as well. For example, despite saying that she despises anime and Japanese stuff, and mocks people who do all the time? She's a weeaboo deep down. Seriously. In fact, this is how I got the general personality down for her (I remember ranting about stereotypes in chat, once, saying that it's okay if your character fills a "niche", just do something interesting with it, one of the examples being a bitchy popular girl who acts like she hates anime but secretly loves the shit out of it).

Another thing about her I'm toying with is to make her a closeted lesbian. Like she tried to make herself "look" straight by dating various boys in the past, only for it to backfire in some way. But I'm thinking that she eventually came to terms with it before pre-game started and over the course of it get some character development by coming out in some way, to see where it goes.

Overall: Bitchy-but-secretly-neurotic-and-perfectionistic popular girl who is secretly obsessed with anime and might be a lesbian.

(no name just yet!)- Okay, here's an idea that might be controversial, so I need help on it. I'm thinking of making a character with a disability, specifically deaf-muteness.

Nothing's really concrete with her, so I'm open to suggestions on how she should be written, if at all. I have a number of questions that need answering about her disability, actually. For example, how bad does a disability have to be before she can't go to a public school? What ways of helping her would a school have? Would she be able to go on a school trip, and under what conditions? How would people react to her on the campus? Is there anything else I should know about writing someone with this condition?

Overall, I'm just toying with making a character with a disability, just to stretch my writing skills a bit. It would be an interesting thing to write about, if I can manage keeping her realistic and not make the disability her main character trait.

(also doesn't have a name just yet)- Like many other handlers I've noticed, I'm thinking of making a steampunk/Neo-Victorian character, as well.

Admittedly it came from a joke when talking to someone in private suggesting we should make steampunk people, saying "If they flip out over the amount of anime people this version, will they flip out over steampunk people NEXT version?" or something along those lines. XD

So yeah. Possibly steampunk person in the works. They might also be a musician in some way, as well (possibly in a band?).

Gah! Are those really the only ideas I can think of right now? Surely I can pull more shit out of my ass soon. XD

But yeah. If you have any tips on how to write these well or have ideas on what to do with them, please tell me! I'm open!

Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
((Anna Chase continued from Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This))

Quite a bit of walking you did there, Chase.

She couldn't help but think that. Ever since leaving the willow tree behind she had been continuously walking, only occasionally taking breaks for bathroom, resting, drinking from the stream, or scavenging for food.

Really, what else was she supposed to do? She had no idea where to find Brendan. But the more ground she covered, the more places she'd have looked. And the more places she looked... the more likely she was to find him.

Her mind was still a bit out of it since the episode she had yesterday. Was she really freaking out so badly? Yeah, apparently she was. She could still remember being partially clothed, about to tear off her collar while yelling at the camera... Jesus Christ, self. She knew she could get emotional at times, but that?

In any case, she was now actually kind of glad she didn't go through with that suicide attempt. She was still here, sure, but she was still alive at least. And she had still not wavered from that decision. If she had to die, she was going to do it in style and honorably. Or at least, that was the plan.

Chase knew she had to rest again, though. But where?

Wait... was that a building in the distance?

She squinted at it. Yeah, apparently it was.

Worth a look...



Nope, nothing symbolic about this at all.

This looked an awful lot like a church. A church run by demons and serial killers, at least. There were pews, sure, but they looked like they had been torn apart in an explosion. The whole place looked like it had crumbled to pieces. Add in the dead bodies and the meaty dusty smell, and... yeah.

No, not symbolic of the fact that even the idea of a god or whatever deities were being killed by this place.

Chase loved the idea of religion. She was never particularly religious herself. But she went to church on Sunday at least two times, just out of curiosity, and found the ideas and concepts amazing. And not just Christianity, either. A lot of religions had beautiful things about them. It's just that people like Rachel Gettys made religion into something horrible.

And it was a sad sight to see a church in this state.

But, as much as she'd love to mourn the death of people just respecting a church, she knew that she was going to have to add to it, or at least she wanted to. It was probably a good idea to loot through, of course.

After placing the bag and shovel on the ground, she began inspecting the pews. But, she couldn't help but think of the previous announcement.

Örn Ayers, also known as Dutchy, was dead. So was Rashid Hassan.

She never knew either of them that well. But she knew one thing; Brendan knew them. She couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. Not too well, she bet.

She couldn't remember Rashid that well, but she could remember Dutchy a bit better. Dutchy was the kind of kid you always wanted to see make it out okay. The kind of person who with just one look made you want to protect him. The kind of person who always seemed to see the good side of people.

He was one of those people who deserved to live, overall.

Rashid, all she could remember of Rashid was that he was a /b/-tard or something like that. Chase wasn't too fond of /b/-tards, to be honest. But Rashid probably deserved to live, too.

Some world, huh? People die, that was true. In the movies she always watched, it was often the people who deserved to die who got slaughtered by the homicidal maniac. Not true in the real world. There was no reason to attack and shoot Dutchy. Dutchy wouldn't have hurt a fly, would he?

Chase stopped for a few seconds to cough into her hand, the dust and such getting to her.

How was Brendan doing? Presuming that he was still her friend. That he hadn't gone crazy. That he hadn't planned to kill any more-

No. Stop thinking like that. Maybe it was self defense. Ever think of that?

Well, that could be true, actually. She hadn't thought of that until now.

But in any case, she had to keep searching.

Maybe there was a left-behind bag, or some kind of food laying about.

Maybe.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
((Anna Chase continued from Later Buddy))

Lost again.

She had attempted to find her way back to the shack, in hopes of finding Eiko and/or Aston there. But she had been unable to find her way over. The forest seemed to twist and bound, making things even more confusing than they already were. She knew she wanted to find it, but it wasn't showing up. Maybe if she had a map or GPS or compass or something....

A loud babbling sound soon met her ears, and before she knew it...

Okay, she was on the right track. Here she was, back at the stream and old willow tree. The one where they had ran into Rachel, Marty had woken up, and... oh jesus, that one announcement where everything went to shit even more.

Feeling herself tremble as the memories surfaced for a brief moment, she quickly shrugged them off. Well, she was somewhere nearby. It couldn't help not to rest, could it?

Placing her bag and new shovel against the tree, she went over to the stream, and within seconds had started splashing water against her face.

Come on, wake UP!

Her face, hair, hands, and dress had become dripping with water. Come on, she had to be alert! She didn't need to think about such things! She needed to be alert! Up and at-

There we go.

Chase dragged herself back to the tree, and placed herself back on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees. Well, at least she cooled down and was alert now. It didn't really help much with the situation, but there you go.

The memories of the past few days still surfaced in her mind. It was all a blur, but they were there. Everything from waking up at the fairgrounds while blinded to watching Marty die had permanently stained themselves on her memories. There was no doubt about that. She wasn't sure if there was any way she could forget about them. No matter what she did, her thoughts looped back to one or another horror she had personally witnessed.

Sad thing was, it was time to admit it. She wasn't coming home. Even if she did... she was going to be like those guys in the army, who never really left the war and spent all their lives trying to survive even existing. Despite the fact that she had just realized it, that by itself didn't unnerve her. Her mind still stayed the relative calmness it had before, or at least as calm as you could get given the situation. But, she wasn't an army guy. She was still Anna Chase, right?

Or at least, so she claimed.

Let's get philosophical here for a second. At what point would she stop being Anna Chase? Heck, she had already been somewhat confused about how things were before she came here. God, that was so long ago, wasn't it? All she really had to worry about was her relationship problems, actually. And that seemed like even more of a blur than the things she had gone through while here.

She didn't want to think about them, or what she'd gone through. Instead, maybe actually trying to survive would do wonders. Maybe if she started a fire... maybe that would get her mind off of all this death and carnage.





Within half an hour, Chase had found a wide variety of sticks nearby. Thick, thin, all you could ask for. Okay, wood gotten. Now just place it into that pile, and...

Start a fire.

She had a basic idea on how to start a fire. She wasn't an outdoor person. Heck, she hated the outdoors. But, she knew how. Friction equals heat equals fire. Simple, right?

Well, it wasn't that easy.

Chase tried all sorts of ways to make it work. Rubbing one between her hands, rubbing two together... she thought this was going to be easy. She had seen people do it before, and she was sure that she could do it. Right?

But after about half an hour, Chase simply slammed the wood back into the pile, a loud CRACK as one of the sticks broke into two. She... couldn't do it. Burying her hands back in her face, she suddenly felt like crying again.

Nothing was working out, was it? She was stuck here, on this hellhole, and there was no way for her to get out of here without a body bag, if she even had that liberty. Everyone she knew was getting murdered, and despite the fact that she wasn't the one doing the actual killing, well, she felt like she was in some way responsible. Heck, she was responsible in some cases.

And now she couldn't even make a fire to keep herself warm at night.

She felt another shiver run up and down her spine.

After she lifted her hands from her face, she found herself staring blanking at the pile of wood. Actually, there was a chance that she could make a fire, wasn't there? She just... needed to find the right technique.

And so she went back to work, hands still trembling as she fiddled with the wood. Had to be a way...




No, even after another hour, she still couldn't do it.

Chase sighed, rubbing her forehead. This wasn't working out. She was going to have to sleep in the cold, and hopefully she would find a warm spot. As usual. Maybe she could find some kind of shelter before nightfall, but already it was getting late. So it really was best to stay here.

The only thing she could really think of for the wood she had piled up was to make little voodoo dolls and hang them from the tree like in... the Blair Witch Project, was it? Oh god, now she couldn't even remember movies from before that well, and yet she could remember that despite people telling her it was stupid, she actually liked it. In a way, these woods kind of reminded her of it. God, so comparing things to horror movies really was her way of dealing with things, then?

But, after a while, she gave in to temptation. Within a period of time, she had managed to make multiple voodoo dolls using the sticks and leaves from the willow tree, and had managed to hang them from the branches again using the leaves.

It was a waste of time, and frankly, it made her waste materials. Heck, she still didn't know why she gave into that urge. But at least she had made herself feel at home to some extent.

Chase plopped herself on the ground, using her one remaining bag as a pillow. And within a few minutes, she surprisingly quickly went to sleep.




Chase found herself bounding up the front steps of her home. It... seemed like she hadn't been here in forever! Now to take out the keys and unlock the door... here we go. She scampered in, removing her socks and shoes.

"Mom! Dad! I'm hooome!" she called out, but no response. They must not have been home right now. That was okay. She'd expected it, since the door was locked They'd be home soon, right? In the meantime, she could hang out, do her homework, go watch some movies, talk to her friends on IM or the phone, whatever. In any case, she was home, and now could rest.

But why was the television still on? Chase could see that it was currently broadcasting a pixelated "snowstorm" of sorts. Maybe the TV station was out?

Meh, might as well not bother with it.

Chase went towards the stairs, only to notice... was that blood? A thin trail of blood, coming down from the stairs. Her heart began to race. Oh god, why was there blood?

She found herself following the bloody trail upwards, and upon reaching the steps found that it lead to... her room? Oh jesus. What was happening?

The girl tiptoed towards the door, opened, and...

This wasn't her room. Her room was exactly what you'd expect from Anna Chase, or indeed any teenage girl. A few posters depicting monsters, a bed, some stuffed animals and figurines, a desk with a laptop. But this wasn't it.

Nothing was here. Just a long expanse of darkness. She continued to stare into it. Just darkness.

Wait, something was crawling by her foot. She looked down, only to find what appeared to be a bloody hand. Screaming, she tried to kick it away, only for it to latch onto her ankle. And it hurt! Chase continued to try to shake it off, only for a second hand to grab her other ankle. There was two of them now!

Chase continued to scream, and suddenly she was pulled to the ground. And quickly, she realized that she was being dragged towards the room.

"Nonononononononooooo..." she whimpered, tears running down her face and digging her nails into the carpet, but to no avail.

Within seconds, Anna Chase had been dragged into the darkness, and the door slammed shut.




And so she hurriedly woke up.

Lifting herself up into the sitting position, she rested her face in her hand. Another nightmare. Chase usually enjoyed nightmares. In fact, she enjoyed dreams in general. They were always interesting, and fun to have. Much different than what happened in every day life. But not the ones she had whenever she went to sleep these days. It seemed the same each and every time; go to sleep, something jumps out at you or drags you someplace or tries to kill you or screams at you about how much of a failure you are or something. Just about every imaginable thing had happened to her while she was sleeping. And really, that wasn't an exaggeration. Torture, killed, eviscerated, eyes being gouged, various people getting killed in front of her, you name it. Needless to say, the island was now reaching the point where she couldn't escape from what had happened, and what she was worried was going to happen some day, even while she was trying to sleep. It didn't help that she already had quite a morbid mind to begin with.

Still trembling a little bit both because of her fun little dream and the cold, Chase couldn't help but wonder. Did the army guys have something like this? Creepy dreams at every turn? She rubbed her forehead in thought. She knew bad dreams were a symptom of PTSD and trauma in general, but nothing like this.

It was still fairly dark out, with the stars and the dim light of the moon in its current phase being the only major sources of light. As she looked up, Chase's night vision quickly adjusted. What was those stick-like figures she was seeing- oh right. She had, for some reason, made Blair Witch style voodoo dolls, that she could recall. With that was supposed to be firewood. In hindsight, that was not only pointless, but completely stupid. When morning came, she was going to tear that stuff down.

Well, she might as well take a walk or something, to see if she calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

Chase stood up, and headed closer towards the stream. After removing her socks and shoes, she dipped her feet into the water.

It was a nice night out, to be honest.

A fair amount of stars in the sky. The moon was far from full, but it was still clearly visible. God, if it weren't for what she had been through this entire time, she could easily enjoy it.

It reminded her of that one night. The one where she and Jon had gotten back from prom and ate sandwiches under the stars. God, so long ago, was it? Even if it wasn't that long ago, sure felt like it.

There were many nights like this she could remember, actually. The memories were blurry, but were still there. That one fourth of July, where a friend of hers had the idea involving a bonfire, an illegal firework, and marshmellows. She'd tried to talk her out of it, but said friend had protested saying it was going to be cool. Needless to say, Dad was probably the most pissed she'd ever seen him in her life, but thankfully no one was hurt, and the only lasting damage was a black splotch that still remained on the side of the fence to this day. Or the time where she ended up trying to find someone's keys in the middle of the night while looking through a dumpster, which they themselves couldn't do because they had left town for the weekend. Thankfully, she found them quickly, and managed to sneak back home. Or that time when she ended up running around Minneapolis lost while still in complete cosplay gear.

Chase couldn't help but have a sad smile on her face. Those were the good old days, right?

Let's face it. She did whine a lot about it when she had it, but it was a pretty good life, that she could remember. She was fortunate that she had a loving family, made friends easily, lived in a good town, and mostly generally avoided trouble, with a handful of exceptions, sure, but nothing major until recently. Even if she got into trouble, it was usually because other people dragged her into things.

She knew it was gone now, though.

That was the truth. Everything had changed the minute she had gotten on that bus, even possibly before that.

As she gently waved her foot in the water and stared up at the sky, she thought a bit more.

Oddly enough, she had the feeling that if she had regularly interacted with Ben, Marty, Joshua, Aston, and Michelle under other circumstances, they could have been friends, right? Sure, Aston and Michelle hated each other, but...

There was still a world of possibilities that was no longer available to her.

It was reality. So many things that could have happened, and yet didn't. In another world, Anna Chase was still at home, possibly sleeping. In another world, everyone was still alive. In another world, there was no Survival of the Fittest.

In another world, Chase could have been happy.

God, it had been a while since she'd actually been happy, right?

Happiness was something one couldn't get easily here, after all. The only happy ones were people like Lombardi, who seemed to... well, adjust to the system quite nicely.

Wait, she could see an old figure. Up in the sky...

Chase removed the necklace Jon gave her from where she had hidden it, and let it dangle in the dim light.

"Look, Jon. I can see the bear again", she told it in a hushed voice.

She felt stupid talking to the necklace, but to be honest, it was the only connection to Jon she had. But there it was. The Big Dipper. It still looked more like a pan or ladle to her than a bear, though.

It was another sign of back home. No matter where you were, you always saw the Bearladle. Always. It showed up no matter what part of the world you were in.

Dear god, how she missed Jon, though.

Was he watching her right now, in some kind of afterlife? Was he proud of her? Ashamed of her? What would he think about everything she'd been through?

To be honest, she had no idea.

Chase was far from the girl who had asked him to prom, even before she had gotten on that bus. Heck, even she didn't recognize herself by this point. She knew who she was, but not what she was turning into. Oh great, she was getting philosophical about her identity again, wasn't she?

But it was true, though. She knew she had changed, but was it really for the better? She didn't think so.

This place changed you. It completely uprooted everything you knew about the world, and replaced it with death and carnage. That was fact. No doubt about it.

Her main regret, though, was, as she kept pointing out to herself, that she wasn't as good a girlfriend as he would have wanted.

What could she say? Well, she knew for a fact just how much her friends and family hated him. Brendan and Lexie seemed to think he was going to beat her up or something. He wouldn't do that, would he? Lexie in particular made it no secret that she wanted to gut him on the spot. Chase could remember the hushed whispers often given in her direction about him. She was never sure if Jon was ever aware about it, but they were there.

Wait, since this was being broadcasted all over the world... did this mean Lexie had been watching her at some point? What would she have to say as well? Did she even know? Did she even care? Heck, she must have been watching Brendan, at the very least. Although she always denied it, Chase was pretty sure that she was into him and seemed upset once it turned out he was into Erik.

Didn't help that Chase found herself constantly lying to his face, as well. It ranged from the standard "Oh, I'm fine. Don't worry about me" one would say with a smile despite having a horrid day, to pretty major lies.

Probably the biggest lie she had ever told him was about Dawne. She could remember that night, but only vaguely. It was like one of those episodes in a teen soap opera or something. She could remember hanging out with her, yes. It started out innocently enough. But then out came the booze. Dawne had brought it with her, and had pressured her into drinking with her, saying it was "fun". After a period of time, both of them were drunk, and...

Well, it didn't end so well. Chase had protested against drinking at first, but eventually gave in. She had thought it would be safe, since it was just the two of them. No biggie, not a big party or anything like that. Actually, it was a huge mistake. And if things had gone differently... well, a lot of things would be different, obviously.

Needless to say, neither of them knew what exactly they were doing. Things got a little awkward after that. What could she say? The morning after... well, not fun. Hangovers and awkwardness, at least on her end. The worst part, though... she knew Jon wouldn't approve. Poor guy would get upset if he ever found out what had happened between them.

Rekka too. Chase had always supported them being together. She knew how much that man adored her, and how she adored him in turn. It wouldn't go over so well, either. After what happened, she couldn't stand seeing them together at all. She didn't want to be in the way, and she knew that if he ever found out, the poor guy wouldn't be happy. Rekka would have been heartbroken, that was for certain.

Sad thing was, if people ever found out, they'd focus on the "obvious" implications. Sure, the "obvious" implications did pop up in Chase's mind afterwards, but that paled in comparison to the fact that she'd screwed at least four people over, herself included. And when she heard Dawne's and Jon's names on the announcement the other day... she freaked. Even now, she still felt responsible. Would things have turned out okay if that night went differently? She knew there was no use in going "what if" all the time; it had already happened. But, the thoughts kept popping up.

And to add insult to injury... there was that pot brownie incident with Brendan. Thankfully, it turned out okay, much better than how the previous incident went. Damn near gave her a heart attack, though.

Brendan! Brendan was a good friend of hers, that was for certain. God, he was basically one of the few friends she had left in this world overall. Jon, Rekka, Dawne, Ben, and Michelle were currently lying dead somewhere on the island, she knew that Marty and Joshua were now buried into the ground, Aston was on some revenge plot that was probably going to end in ruin, and there was no way to know if Lexie even knew what was going on.

And there was no way of her finding out if Brendan was okay, either. The only way to get any idea on his status was to hear his name on the Announcement, and no matter the context, it wasn't a good thing. It meant he either hurt someone or was killed, obviously.

Was he okay, though? She hoped he was. She wasn't sure if he knew anything about weaponry or survival or anything like that, but she hadn't heard his name on the announcements. That was a relief, but he could be bleeding on the ground somewhere, or getting attacked, or being tortured, or having someone like Lombardi after his blood, or-

She took a deep breath.

She just had to hope he was safe. Hoping did nothing, she had learned that a long time ago. But maybe some day she would see him again. Would he still be her friend, though? He must have changed, just like she did! Maybe he was some kind of badass. Maybe he was some kind of psycho, like the people in Higurashi or like Jason. Maybe he was just like her, scared, confused, lost, and lonely.

Heck, he might have even joined a group similar to that SADD thing Jon told her about! People had tried to escape last time, right? But no one knew what happened to them. It was a mystery, apparently. Chase both loved and hated mysteries. On one hand, mysteries made life a little more interesting. After all, knowing everything had to be boring. On the other, mysteries left things open to the imagination, and thus their fates were left to the most morbid of things Chase could come up with. She didn't know much about the last time, but apparently there was a guy who wore a smiley face mask, like a slasher villain? Maybe he picked them all off like in her favorite movies, like two people were screwing, another person was doing pot, another person just so happened to be black, another person ran off by themselves...

She smiled for a few seconds, amused by her own mental image. To be honest, guys running around in smiley face masks and killing people would have made all this shit a lot more interesting and hilarious.

Chase stopped smiling, however, when she applied that mental image to Brendan being slaughtered with a machete by some psychopath wearing a smiley face mask. It... stopped being funny, right then and there.

She really did hope she was okay, though.

Heck, to be honest, if Brendan didn't have Erik and she didn't have Jon at the time, they would have made a cute couple-

WOAH. There did that thought come from? Just right out of nowhere. She wasn't in love with him or anything! He was her friend. Her FRIEND. Nothing more or less. There was no reason for her to want to be with him, okay? Even if she was, he wouldn't be into her. He was into Erik. And they made a cute couple, too. She wasn't just saying that because she had a secret fondness for yaoi and guy-on-guy, either. They genuinely seemed to work together, you know? And she had already ruined at least two relationships in kind of this way, soooo...

Not into Brendan.

Are we clear?

Good.

He was just a good friend of hers.

Honest to god.

That was the truth.

There.

Speaking of Erik. Maybe they ran into each other. Maybe they huddled up next to each other, trying to keep each other warm and to keep each other from freaking out. Maybe they hugged each other, making sure that they never let go, that they spent their last minutes together...

She smiled once again. That was a nice mental image. Just them caring for each other.

Maybe it was time for her to go back to sleep, though. After all, she didn't want any weird thoughts like that popping into her head again. Chase was already feeling tired again, anyways.

Placing the necklace back into her bra and grabbing her socks and shoes, she headed back to the tree. After placing the shoes next to her head, she lied down once more, her head again on her bag.

Hopefully she won't have another nightmare....




"Wake up."

Chase's eyes flicked open to see a most horrible sight.

Maxwell Lombardi. He was probably the most charismatic boy at school. Really, what was there not to like about him? Smart, multi-talented, confident, had a way with words, attractive... something about him made you want to believe anything he told you, no matter how unbelievable. Yet despite all this, Chase had found out the hard way that he was, to put it simply, a self-absorbed prick. The whole "running around killing people thing" didn't do much to improve his image, either.

And now he was here. He was here, standing over her with a gun pointed at her head.

And he didn't look so good, either. He was covered head to toe in blood, the red fluid staining his white jacket and contrasting beautifully yet horribly against it. And the look on his face wasn't a welcoming one, to say the least.

"Oh god, please don't hurt me..." Chase murmured, staring up at the Englishman.

"Why not?" he smirked back, but...

What appeared to be a laser beam blasted towards Maxwell, hitting him in the jaw. Chase quickly sat up, only to see that Maxwell was now... a rabbit? Yes, a cute tiny little brown rabbit with red highlights, currently sniffing the gun he once held. She turned towards the source of the laser, and smiled.

"JOJO!" she yelled, running up to hug the giant anthropomorphic rabbit wearing an orange superhero cape.

Yes, Jojo. Jojo the flying rabbit. Her childhood imaginary friend, who was a superhero that turned bad guys into rabbits. He had come to save her!

"Don't worry, Chase! I defeat ALL bad guys in the WORLD! It's my duty, right?" the rabbit said triumphantly.

Chase couldn't agree more. Every killer on the island would be better off as a rabbit!

"Let's go fight crime, then?" Chase said, and the superhero nodded.

"Good! Now get on my back, and we shall fight ALL who oppose us!"

Chase climbed onto the rabbit's back piggy-back style, and off they went into the sky.

Oh look, Nancy Wainright, happily enjoying her bag, eh? You make a nice Holland Lop! Or what about you, Nick Reid? Can't stab people when you're an Angora! Rasputin? Made an adorable dwarf rabbit, simple as that.

As they floated through the sky, they continued to turn various killers into rabbits. RJ Lowe was turned into a small black and white bunny. Clio Gabriella became a rabbit with brown and white splotches. Reiko Ishida turned out to be a nice Flemish Giant.

The killers made better rabbits than killers, that was for certain.



Chase then woke up again and sat up, rubbing her head.

Well. At least it wasn't another nightmare, right? Besides, Jojo was the best imaginary friend she could have. Sad thing was, though, he was imaginary. If there really was a superhero that could just turn all the bad guys into rabbits, then that would be awesome. But there wasn't. Ah well. What could she do?

But damn it. Did she need to wash up. Chase had just realized that she had basically been wearing the same clothes for days on end. That wasn't good. Her clothes had been itchy this entire time, and she hadn't thought to change them because of all the chaos. Without warning, Chase slid everything off. Maybe she could take a bath in the stream, too?

But... the stream had a lot of things. Streams weren't good bathing water, were they?

Actually, she had already drank from it, splashed herself with it, and put her feet in. She was already doomed to get some kind of disease anyways. The last thing she should be worrying about was whether or not she'd get ill.

So off she went to the stream, and as best as she could tried to clean herself up. The cold water felt nice against her body, didn't it?

After about half an hour of trying to get herself clean, Chase slid out, soaking wet from the water. As she went to her bag, she attempted to dry herself as best as she could.

Chase, however, was only barely able to get a fresh bra and panties on before they started again.

The announcements.

She really hated Danya. Not only did he send them here, but he also laughed and laughed at everything. Everything. It was horrifying and annoying and it really upset her.

Her heart started to race as the announcement went on.

JJ Sturn had died. Someone had gotten beaten with a chair. Marty's death was described. And-

"Brendan Wallace joined the good list, putting a fatal bullet into Steven Hunt. Touching last words to Mr. Hunt. I'm sure the academy was pleased."

No. That had to be another joke, had it? It was a joke. Or maybe it was another bad dream. It had to be a bad dream!

Chase barely listened, simply standing on the spot partially naked and horrified. She only barely managed to register that Polanski and Madelyn Prowers, nice, friendly Madelyn Prowers, was dead.

No... please... no...

He couldn't have.

Images of Brendan passed through her mind.

The Brendan she had met that day in the cafeteria by chance.

The Brendan who she and Erik Laurin had gone to see a movie with.

The Brendan who she had a movie marathon with.

The Brendan who she had last seen on the bus.

Her Brendan.

That wasn't her Brendan. Her Brendan wasn't a murderer, right? He wasn't the kind of person who would shoot someone, wasn't he? He wouldn't! It was a trick! He would never do something like that!

He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

The announcements came to a stop.

Chase collapsed to her knees, feeling herself starting to tremble again. And suddenly, a few sounds came from her mouth. She wasn't even sure if she was laughing or sobbing. It was all so useless.

Brendan was a killer. He killed someone. Brendan. Shot them. No, he flat out killed them.

Tears slid down her face as she replayed the announcement in her mind, the sounds continuing. She... she...

Had nothing left.

What was there for her? She wasn't ever coming home, and everyone was either dead or off their rocker.

Lifting her head, she noticed a camera in the branches of the willow tree, looking down on her. They were watching every moment of this, right?

Opening her mouth, she tried to think of something to say, but could only come up with-

"... Go fuck y-yourselves. Seriously. I don't w-want to play in your sick d-d-death fetish. Because... I..."

Her hands raised to her neck. Her collar. She could easily tug it off and end this nonsense once and for all. She'd see her friends again, and she'd no longer be hurting. She'd be free for the first time in a while.

"I choose not to play. I don't w-want to h-h-hurt anyone, and I don't want to be hurt anymore."

She forced a smile on her face.

"Goodbye. Hope you get off on this."

Chase closed her eyes, her hands still touching the collar. How hard would she have to pull? Would it hurt? How long before she actually died from it? How big would the explosion be?

Only one way to find out.

She mentally prepared herself. Chase was going to see all her friends again. That was a fact. She'd no longer be in pain, and all her problems would be solved. Easy. It was as easy as just tugging this off...

....

....

....

....

....

Any minute now.

....

....

....

....

She couldn't do it.

No really, she couldn't.

Chase threw her hands away from her collar, making a loud sob as she did so. She couldn't just end it right there. Despite everything, some part of her still wanted to live. She couldn't go through it. Was she really so much a coward that she couldn't kill herself even when she knew she didn't stand a chance?

She crawled towards the tree, and, placing her back against the trunk, she pulled herself up into a ball.

Chase wished she wasn't here. She wished everything was fine. That she still had all her friends. That one day she could be happy. She asked for nothing more in the world.

And now... she could have very easily lost Brendan, too.

What was there to do, now that dying apparently wasn't an option?

What would everyone who had died want her to do?

It wasn't an easy question. Did any of them think about her before she died?

She thought of Marty running towards Nick. He had nothing left too, right? He had lost his friend and that girl. She had seen that grave already dug. So why did he choose to go out like that? Honor, so that people wouldn't think he was a coward? Or-

It hit her.

He thought she was in danger.

He, in what was to be his last moments, thought that she was getting hurt and tried to save her life. He knew that he was at rock bottom, but he tried to save her.


She knew what to do now.

What Chase had just realized, you see, was the true way to "win" Survival of the Fittest. The goal of the game wasn't to kill as many people as possible, be the last one standing, or anything else Danya and his buddies tried to feed them.

No, the true way to win this game?

Stay a good person. Try to fight for survival.

It was that easy. It didn't matter whether you lived or died. All that mattered was... to stay who you were. Simple. To live and fight for those who had died. There was nothing she could do about Jon, Dawne, Rekka, Ben, Michelle, Marty, or Joshua, but she had to live, just to honor them. And those who did live...

Although the viewers at home probably did not notice, within those few minutes a slow but steady transformation occurred.

As Chase pulled herself out of the ball, she crawled over to the bag, and reminded herself to put some clothes on. Sliding a dark blue tank top and a black skort on her body, she knew what she had to do.

Find Brendan.

It didn't matter whether or not he was still the nervous guy she had befriended at the cafeteria that day. All that mattered was that she saw him again, that she made sure he was safe.

And she wasn't going to cower behind other people, either. That was a good source of her problems recently. She had cowered behind other people, and wasn't able to defend herself, not even against Nancy. She knew that she had to fight, though. She was going to die, but she had already decided she wasn't going to kill herself, after all.

In fact? She was going to die with style.

Maybe she would die in an arm wrestling match with Brooks, or would have a fight to the death with Ishida. But one thing was certain, she had made her choice; she wasn't going to die here crying and sobbing, partially naked and surrounded by voodoo dolls. She was glad that she had changed her mind. That would have been a sucky way to go.

As she slid some fresh socks, shoes and her fingerless gloves on and placed Jon's necklace back into her bra, she turned to the camera again.

"In case you haven't noticed... I changed my mind."

Yup, she had changed it. No doubt about it.

She thought of Jojo the Flying Rabbit again. He always chose to be a good guy, no matter what. Cats always tried to hurt him and his friends, and make the city a bad place. Chase hated cats. They meowed, hissed, and scratched. But Jojo, no matter what happened, always decided to stop them.

Anna Chase had made her decision. She wasn't a cat.

"Danya. Just so you know... you're a cat. I'm a r-rabbit. Cats al-always think they win... and for a while, they do. But, the thing about cats is..."

She smiled.

"They never win. Cats are just so ev-evil that they never realize it. Rabbits always win."

Chase knew that people at home were probably confused, but deep down, she knew one thing.

She was going to find Brendan. She was going to fight for once.

When it came time to die, she was going to do it with honor and style.

Anna Chase had made the decision. She was going to fight.




By mid-day Chase had decided to set out again, bag and shovel in hand. As she turned back at the tree, she noticed the makeshift voodoo dolls, although they were just falling apart, were still up.

But she had decided to leave them. Maybe they would be a landmark for her next time she came around.

And besides, now that she thought of it, she kind of liked them.

((Anna Chase continued in Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!))