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Mentality

Fight For Freedom

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IC: Hayden lowered his gun.

 

"You're lucky you know what you're talking about. I'm Hayden by the way," Hayden paused for a brief moment,"There has to be a way we can get off this island. How 'bout we build a boat?"

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IC:

 

Eric retrieved his gun from the ground, flicking safety back off. "We could, but I'm sure they have good security pullin' somethin' like this..." Eric's voice fell to just a low enough volume where only Andre could hear him. "And call me paranoid, but I'm sure they have cameras for some dude's sick and twisted pleasure... the only option I see open is grouping together enough of the contestants that can help us, and killing all who don't. You game?"

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IC: "You're right. The only way off this island is to get a group of people. We should start looking for people together right now."

 

Andre lowered his gun, but kept it in his hand to be ready for any surprise attacks. He felt like he could trust Eric now, and that they were going to be buddies for a while.

 

"Let's go to the other side of the island and see if we can find anybody."

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IC:

 

Eric nodded, retrieving his machete from the ground. He gestured to the corpse on the ground. "How exactly do we take care of him?"

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IC: "Just leave him. Get everyone nervous that someone's been killed already. After we get to the other side, we should set up camp."

 

Hayden started into the forest, both of his guns out, ready for anything or anyone that popped up.

 

"Be careful. Someone might pop out of nowhere. Some of us are bound to turn cannibal soon." Hayden said lowly.

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IC: "Water!" Tristan shouted aloud. "Sweet, precious water!"

A jungle seemed an odd place for such a body, but just in front of him was a small lake, filled to the brim with life-giving liquid. He looked at it for an eternity, before dropping to his knees and cupping his hands. Fifteen minutes later, his throat was soothed again, and his brain was no longer howling for moisture. He took note of the place in his mind and continued.

 

The island was really kind of tranquil. For what he suspected would probably be his tomb, it was a picturesque landscape of rolling sand, emerald jungles and sparkling water both inland and ocean. It would have made a great painting. But he had no paintbrushes. Instead, there was a gun at his side, and a knife at the other. His canvas could only be human flesh here. It disgusted him. He spat on the ground and kept walking.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he heard something snap. He stopped immediately, his heart going a million miles per hour. There was something eerily about the silence, the air thick with danger. He looked up on instinct, and saw the dangling heel of a black boot, almost invisible in the thick canopy of the tree. "OH MY GOD!" he shouted.

 

He leapt out of the way even as a quick storm of bullets occupied the space he had just been standing in. He skidded to a halt, picked a direction and ran in it. The bullets continued: some striking near his ankles, one narrowly missing his skull. They rained down on him, plastering tree trunks with lead and snapping branches like twigs.

 

Tristan ran. He weaved in and out of the landscape. He couldn't believe he hadn't been shot! The sound of the bullets wasn't changing volume, and he assumed his attacker was in pursuit. He toyed with the trigger of his gun as he ran, considering changing tactics. He couldn't shoot a man, and he knew it. A mantra began to cycle through his mind: I shall do no harm, I shall do no harm. Adopted from the Hippocratic Oath taken by those practicing medicine, this had become the motto for his order of Christian Pacifism. I shall do no harm. I shall do no harm.

 

And so he ran, waiting for God to save him. Oh Jesus, he thought heavily, I don't want to die!

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IC:

 

For the second time since Sam arrived on this Island his sleep had been disturbed. Only this time, he couldn't dismiss it as nothing. The noises were loud, almost like thunder, but repetitive. Gunfire. He thought. He hoped it would pass, but it didn't; it was moving. In addition to the gunfire, he heard screaming; cries of fear. However much he wanted to let it pass, he knew he couldn't. Sam picked up his bow and a few arrows and climbed to the ledge overlooking his hut and scanned the horizon. His fears were confirmed when he saw a man running in the direction of his ledge with bullets following him from behind, although the origin of those bullets was unknown.

 

Sam called down to the man, "Climb up here if you want to live!" I hope I don't regret this later.

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IC:

 

Eric's head turned sharply to the sounds of gunfire. So we've begun already... He turned to Andre. "Save your bullets for self-defense... if someone isn't shooting at us, we don't shoot at them. We'll need to conserve our resources, but I'm still goin' for checking what's happening over there. You got my back?"

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IC:

 

"Yeah. Let's get to the other side, and quick."

 

Andre led the way as they pushed through the bushes and branches that stood in their way. The gunshots alarmed Andre, and even though he was teamed with Eric, he didn't know exactly how many people were on this island or when they would strike. He kept both of his guns in his hands, and his fingers leaned gently against the triggers.

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Solomon's head snapped in the direction of what sounded like submachine gun fire. He knew that with this distance, he had the advantage... He hoiseted his bow yet again and aimed towards the nearing bullet smatter.

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IC: Tristan was taken aback. He skidded to a stop, and thought for a moment. Could he trust this man? The gunshots behind him...they didn't give him much choice at all. He scrambled up the ledge with all the desperation of a drowning child.

Edited by Pottsy6

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IC:

 

After about 45 minutes of running past trees and jumping over bushes, Eric and Andre finally made it to the other side of the island. They didn't see anyone in their area, but Andre knew that further down on the beach there would be other people.

 

"We should built ourselves some shelter before doing anything."

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IC:

 

Sam still had doubts about bringing this man into his secluded shelter, but then again, he couldn't KNOWINGLY let a fellow human being be killed. As the man got closer to the top of the ledge, Sam grabbed his hand and helped to pull him up. Once he was on top, Sam pulled him around a corner, as a precaution in case they were spotted and grabbed the gun out of the man's hands and threw it to the ground.

 

"Well, who are you?" Sam asked.

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Solomon hears the shooting come to an abrupt stop and his heart starts rating normally again. As much as he enjoys the survival, violence was not his first inclination. He climbs down the tree and begins his trek to his shelter dug user the trunk of a nondescript tree. After ensuring his traps were in place, went to sleep, with revolver, kukri and knife within easy reach.

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IC:

 

"Agreed." Eric commented, wasting no time in falling a fairly thick tree with his machete before sharpening it and sticking it into the ground. He continued this for sometime, before he had an entire row of the tree. Wiping his forehead, Eric stepped back and admired his handiwork. "Not bad," he commented to himself. "But I have to be careful not to use too many trees in this area; we don't want anyone to see our shelter until it is far too late..."

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IC:

 

"True." Andre replied.

 

He took out his knife and sliced some vines of the trees, tied them against the tree, and helped Eric cut down the second tree that they would use in their soon-to-be hut.

Edited by Mentality

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IC:

 

After a couple of hours of silent work, the two men had managed to build a respectable looking hut, with reinforced walls build with a combination of vine-rope and tree trunks. Eric ventured into the hut, banging on the walls and roof with his fists. Neither gave before his large hands, making him nod contentedly. Eric left the hut, walking around it to guarantee a lack of visibility from the outside, something he seemed to be satisfied with as well. "I think it's as done as it'll ever be." He commented, smiling and turning to Andre. "What do you think?"

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IC:

 

Andre's stomach started to rumble. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

 

"Yeah it looks good. Now we should go look for something that we can eat, I'm starving."

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"Tristan Campbell" He replied, a slight rush of anger going through him. "And if you're going to disarm me, I'd feel better about it if you dropped your weapon as well".

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IC:

 

"Well, Tristan, I'm Sam." Sam said as he slid his machete into his sheath on his back. "Satisfied? Anyway, I gave you an out, I could have just let you keep on running, or worse; end up dead. So, I think that should be enough. Tell me now, what do you know about this island?" inquired Sam.

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IC: "I only know one thing abut this island Sam," Tristan responded, still eyeing the man's sheathed weapon, "I want off it. What kind of sicko plays a game with people's lives? And what kind of sicko actually plays that game. That man trying to shoot me, I thought...well, you know what I thought. Thanks for saving me. I owe you big time!"

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IC:

 

Eric frowned. "I'm afraid... I have no idea where to go as far as food goes." He shrugged aapologetically. "There really aren't any jungles in NYC, you see... However, I'm sure we could find someone who already has food, and might be willing to share in exchange for something like protection, and shelter..."

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IC:

 

"True, but we could always try our luck at hunting. Follow me." Andre ordered politely.

 

Andre ran through the trees with his weapons at hand. If they could find at least a few birds, or some berries then they could settle down for a short while before they got hungry again. He looked up in the trees, and spotted on bird sitting on one of the high up branches. He fired in the direction of the bird, and it fell over and landed on the ground. Andre picked it up and inspected it carefully.

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IC:

 

Solomon was jolted awake by a short burst of automatic fire. As he got up and looked through his spy hole he saw someone about 20 yards away, picking up a bird. Solomon watched an waited for minutes that seemed to last for hours, waiting for the man to leave.

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