Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the Dead Island game, except for made up characters I threw in here willy nilly. I also started this fanfic because I have a guilty crush on Sinamoi and found it criminal to see little next to no fanfics here on the site having anything involving him in it. So I'll be doing a fanfic revolving around him based off of what I've learned about him within the game as well as what I've read from the game's wikia page. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter One: "Lifeguard"

John Sinamoi took his job as a lifeguard very seriously. Not to the killjoy extent, just his duty as a lifeguard. Help anyone and everyone in any way possible. Since he was a boy, John loved helping people. Medics were miracle-workers, so for a little while, he wanted to work in the medical field. He didn't care what profession; dermatologist, optometrist, urologist, gynecologist, pediatrician, he didn't care. Anything. But when he went to the beach with his mom, a man in the water was too exhausted to swim all the way to shore, and someone called out for help when they saw a seemingly lifeless body float about in the water. John soon saw someone in red on the beach rushing out into the water, swimming out to the body and hauling them back to shore. But this person in red didn't stop there. They were breathing life into the body, and the man woke back up, coughing but alive.

"Mommy! Who is that?", he cried out, tugging on her skirt.

"That's the lifeguard, John. He's here to help people who are in trouble in the water."

That lifeguard amazed him. That was help in direct action right before his eyes. And there didn't seem to be many. In fact, there was just the one. Little John knew the world needed more lifeguards, so he made his decision to become one from that day onward.

Classes, certification, all of this was of course necessary, but he went the extra mile. He took professional first-aid courses beyond what was recommended for the average lifeguard. He wanted to be able to give as much help as he could.

You could say it's the best job in the world to him. But nothing was perfect. He loved helping, but that doesn't excuse for his intolerance for stupidity.

We're not talking about the mistake of someone forgetting their inhaler in their bungalow while going out to the beach. That's a simple, human mistake. What John identifies as "stupidity" are, for example, irresponsible parents who shouldn't have been allowed to breed.

The other day, a couple were letting their three-year-old run wild around one the pools he was stationed at. Neither of them told the tyke to slow down, stop running, or anything like that. All they did was coo at how cute he was, and asking other people pretty much for praise without directly saying those words while other people were telling the kid to slow down as he weaved around people, pushing a couple of kids in the process. The moment John heard the parents speak like this, he knew that child was about to get into trouble. With futile, he gently halts the boy and tells him, "'Ey, Tiger. You oughta slow down and watch yourself. The tiles are wet and slippery. Don't want you to fall and crack your head open, do we?"

The crotch fruit merely looked at him, unable to really comprehend that someone was telling him to stop doing something because he was too distracted by the tattoos, mainly the one on his face. The toddler sucked on however many fingers he could jam into his mouth. Luckily Sinamoi could avoid actively cringing at the thought that this kid's slobbery hands are probably touching other people's stuff. But he saw the boy's mother walk briskly up to him.

"Don't you touch my son!", she practically barked at him.

John stood up fully, nearly towering over her, "M'mam, other people are telling him to stop and he's not listening. I had to get his attention somehow. He could slip and hurt himself."

"Who do you think you are?", she started to pull her son behind her.

John scoffed, "I'm the lifeguard. I figured the red and white insignia would give that way. Just because you don't seem to care for the well-being of your son while he goes on his mini-rampage doesn't mean the rest of us have to settle for it. There are other kids here he nearly knocked over, a couple of them even younger than he is!"

"Don't touch my son!"

"And if he were to drown because you weren't paying attention?"

The mother said nothing and carried her son away, telling her husband to leave with her for another location. The lifeguard sighed and folded his arms, his patience wearing thin. Bloody American tourists, he thought. Of course, not all were bad. A handful of them were enjoyable to talk to, some even helpful when he was needed. But so many of the tourists; he'd never seen such entitlement, especially from parents taking their young children on a vacation that they'll most likely forget. Anytime he sees American parents, he always tries to keep an extra eye out for their children.

There was a staff meeting two days later to discuss proceedings and stations regarding the Sam B concert coming up. This meant that staff for that night has to work different, which would include some lifeguards to be on standby for possible security duty. John was disappointed in that, considering it's security's job to do security, not the lifeguard's job. Then again, the company that owns the resort wants to be cheap and not pay for more employees to be on the clock at that time, especially since many of them were getting overpay for the hours they'd end up working.

The bungalow areas were pretty crowded, as were the pools, so John was paying extra close attention to everyone. This is one of those times his colleagues would call him an over-achiever. Unlike him, some of the other lifeguards took up the job "because chicks dig lifeguards." He would kindly turn down flirts when he's on duty.

Four hours into his shift, he had to switch stations and go down to the beach near where the concert would be taking place to make sure none of the drunk partiers would end up drowning in the damn ocean. As he made his way down the steps, he was passing by some of the changing stalls, reminded of when he snuck into one of them with a woman he hooked up with when he got off the clock and decided to have a bit of quiet but exciting fun. The risk of getting caught added to the thrill, but the close calls made him decide that that would be a one-time thing only.

No, focus. Can't be clouding my head with past flings when I'm needed very much tonight. I'll give myself some "alone time" when I get off the clock.

The heavy bass from Sam B's performance was felt in his chest as he passed the venue by. He glances over at the crowd, seeing how drunk half of them were. He shook his head, never understanding how someone can consider that fun. His sort of fun would be surfing or playing some silly sport with some friends. Sure, a couple of drinks can't hurt, but he'd like to be able to remember his fun.

He got on top of his little lifeguard tower-an uncomfortable chair on top of an elevated platform-with binoculars around his neck and began to keep watch. Quickly he began to loathe the damn light system of the concert. It's making it hard for him to see whether or not someone is actually in the water. People in need don't have a whole lot of time to wait for eyes to adjust. Every second counts.

Once his eyes did adjust, he noticed that nobody within the area he's charged with watching over was in the water or even anywhere near the beach. He could be blessed with drunks who don't care about the ocean. Or the beach for that matter, now that he's seeing people vomit, piss, and litter all over the sand in the back. He's got to watch out for the drug users. They usually get high in their own bungalows, but there are still the few that don't seem to care and just do it at the concert. It's not just that he cares for the well-being of said drug-user, he also cares about who they could hurt on accident while they're tripping. It could be a bad trip and cause them to freak out. He also fears needles being left about in the sand, which could leave anyone, especially children who can't stop putting things in their mouth, susceptible to injury or infection.

The rapping became a booming hum to him as he kept his eye on the crowd. He paid more attention to the back, considering the roadies and bodyguards of Sam B were doing well to uphold some form of order in the front. And not to his surprise, he sees two white boys dealing drugs. One was a dealer, the other was a buyer. If he intervened personally, he would cause a scuffle which would potentially put others in danger.

"Mike", John radioed the head of security.

"Yeah?"

"There's a couple of guys dealing what looks like narcotics in the back of the audience at the venue."

"I'll send someone down."

"Thanks, mate."

Mike was a good guy within security and always tries to get things done, but sometimes the personnel working under him don't always deliver. And that ended up being the situation now. The lifeguard saw no security personnel come down to the concert, nor were any of Sam B's who were in touch with said personnel get radioed to handle the situation. John made a mental note to investigate during his spare time whether or not some of the guards were just as guilty as the dealers and junkies.

With a sigh, he carefully watches the addict shoot himself up to get that desperately-wanted high while the dealer, who was dressed in black, seems to disappear. That bothered him, losing sight of him in a crowd like that. But he couldn't leave his post, either. So it was best to just watch the junkie.

It must have been a bad trip or something, considering he looked sick very quickly. The guy lost color in his face, breathing heavily, then started to vomit. Not much he was really capable of doing since he's doing what a lot of other patrons are doing: sweating and vomiting.

Except there was blood.

John almost literally jumped down when he saw the guy begin to vomit blood, so he quickly got down the ladder and ran over while radioing EMT, "Sinamoi to EMT, we have an addict vomiting blood at the beach venue!"

When the lifeguard touched the man's shoulder and began to speak with him, the man shot up with what was almost like an angry roar. It spooked him a bit because it almost didn't sound human. He radioed again, "Better bring some guards. Seems like a bad trip, could be a danger to others."

"None of the guards are available", said an EMT member.

"Then proceed with caution on this one. He's actin' like a wild beast."

John stayed nearby as the man continued to vomit up blood. He was right to call EMT over because that's quite a bit of blood. When he looked up, he saw five men and a stretcher come down and grab the now thrashing junkie who made more animalistic noises and strapped him down on the gurney. When one EMT started to check his vitals on his neck, the addict managed to bite a nice chunk of flesh off the EMT's arm. He screamed.

The lifeguard started to hurry over to help, but another EMT member told him, "No, we've got this. Go back to your post, you're needed here."

He hesitated before backing off and going back to the lifeguard tower to the not-so-comfy chair. His ass was hurting from that damn thing. He's an active man, not someone who sits around. He almost envied American lifeguards for the chairs they get to have.

With a sigh, he continued watching the crowd until the concert was over. While the partiers were tuckered out from excessive drinking, a couple of brawls, and jumping about, he was exhausted from having to be alert and on the clock since nine in the morning.

Two in the morning. Two in the fucking morning. That's when he was off the clock. That's when he could go back to his bungalow.

Better forget about that quick wank. He was too tired to even take his shoes and uniform off (not that he minded the uniform). He loved his job, but boy did it drain him sometimes.

He sat on his bed, deciding not to remove his shoes, and just laid back and passed out.