"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Syph
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Alex's eyes snapped open and ravaged his mind for a comprehensible thought. His mind screamed the video, his capture, his fate. Damn, D...that dick is going to pay for this. He had to find out what the asshole had assigned him. With small movements, Alex grabbed his pack and slid his hand through the folds.

Map... first aid kit... pill box... eh?

He slid it quietly out of the bag and saw the generic 'CAFFEINE' label. Alex could have got worse. He scanned the small opening he had been dumped in. He could smell the sea. He slowly clambered onto his feet.

Danya has my friends turned against me, and my enemies will hunt me with a passion.

Either way, Alex had to hide. His jeans (or skin, for that matter) would not be helpful at all, the colour they were. He grabbed the soil beneath his feet and rubbed them into his jeans, and hands also applying a fine layer of sand.

With a sigh, Alex grabbed the soil again and began to smear it on his $100 hair and carefully cleaned skin. The whole process took him a few minutes. His hands and clothes were the right colour but he needed to see his reflection to get face and hair the correct shade of brown.

He turned toward the sea and walked slowly towards it, back arched like a cat. He watched his footing, dancing through a field of noisy obstacles. There it was.

The sea appeared to him in all it's glory.

SNAP!

Alex grimaced at his own foolishness and dashed for a mossy tree, a short distance away.

'Wh-Who's there? I was assigned a gun and I'm not afraid to use it.'

Alex opened his mouth to speak.

'I don't want to hurt you! ...I'm...Rena? Rena Peters! Who...who are you?' another voice called across the beach.

A pair of girls, one with a gun. I need that gun, but I won't kill that girl to get it...

He needed to lure them over here. That gun needed to get closer to him.

'DON'T SHOOT! I'm stuck!' Alex cried at the top of his lungs. And without a further movement, camouflaged amongst the thin moss.
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Droplets · The Woods: Coastal