Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 1:40 AM

Wayne, Pat, and Jim could do nothing but sit and watch. The game had been underway for almost an hour and a half, but no one (excluding Janelle and Casey in the conference room) had been killed yet; the most action that was seen so far was Sydney's attempted murder of Joanna, followed by Scott failing to shoot Sydney, and that was forty-five minutes ago.

"Think it'll be another Jan-oh-eight?" Jim asked, referring to the January 2008 season which ended with an early collar detonation after twelve hours passed without a kill.

"I doubt it," Pat said, "this year, we're doing something new, remember?"

Jim was confused.

"Oh c'mon, dumbass, do you remember anything I tell you?" Pat snapped.

"Now Pat," Wayne, the man in charge, cut in, "no need to be rude. Allow me to remind you that we've got a sleeper this season."

Jim remembered now.

"Nothing to worry about Jim, my sleeper would never let me down. We've known each other for over twenty years."

Twenty-nine year old Mitch Grenier (M9), at first glance, was scary to look at. He stood at an imposing six feet, five inches tall, and was built like a club bouncer. Not only had he told several coworkers that he had been in many fights before, but he had the scars to prove it: he was missing at least three teeth and had a nasty scar on his forearm. He had long reddish-blond hair tied in a ponytail and wore glasses, which appeared to be almost too small for his face.

Nothing about his physical appearance made it look like he was gay. But he was.

His secret was revealed when he was in the ninth grade in 1995, and he was bullied mercilessly because of it. In the summer of 1996, between freshman and sophomore year, he had an incredible growth spurt of six inches, going from five-foot-five to five-foot-eleven, and he started working out. In his first week of sophomore year, a classmate harassed him, and he responded by breaking his harasser's arm, getting him suspended for two weeks. He was never harassed again.

When the new government took over, a law against homosexuality was put into place (like what was used in the Greater Republic Of East Asia), meaning that gay people were to be, as the government un-subtly put it, exterminated. Mitch was safe, though, as he had scared his classmates straight (pardon the pun) and no one said anything.

Now, however, Mitch was trapped in the closet forever if he wanted to live.

Of course, gay or not, he just had to get out of here. Though he had arguably one of the weaker weapons on the island, which was a pair of brass knuckles, with his strength, he thought that he very well could make good use out of them.

CH-CHK! "Put your hands up!"

Mitch did so without much hesitation, as he recognized the voice as that of Mike MacMillan (M12), a tall and skinny coworker who Mitch didn't think had the guts to shoot him. Mitch slowly, without fear, turned around and looked at Mike, who was holding a SPAS-12 shotgun.

"C'mon dude," Mitch said calmly, "you don't want to do this. Don't try and convince me otherwise."

Mike smirked. "You're right man. I don't wanna hurt ya. But I want your help. And considering that I think those brass knuckles are your only weapon, then you want mine."

Mitch nodded. "Why do you want my help?"

Mike smirked again. "Because if I'm gonna die here, I wanna have some...FUN, first."

"What do you mean man?"

"I'm sure you've noticed that there are some good-looking girls that work with us, right?"

Mitch paused, and then nodded.

"If we're goin' out, let's go out with a bang, if you catch my drift...whataya say?"

Mitch was stunned. As powerful as he was, he didn't think he could ever bring harm to a woman. But, then again, Mike's shotgun was pretty powerful and while he didn't think Mike would shoot him, Mitch did think that there were people on the island who could.

Mitch made up his mind.

"Here's the deal Mike: I can't bring myself to do that to a woman. I just can't."

Mitch had trouble saying what he said next.

"But, if you let me hold the gun, I'll watch over you while you...do it."

Mike smiled. "You got a deal bro! If you want any women here though, just say the word, and I'll watch YOUR back."

"Um...thanks, but no. I have someone back home." (He didn't really.)

"Your loss then, I guess. More pussy for me!" Mike said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Mitch said, faking a chuckle.

Bill Shearer (M11) didn't get it. He quit SaveHouse for a reason: he was tired of being treated like garbage. Only two weeks before, he stopped showing up at work, and after three straight days of not calling in, his supervisor Scott called him at home and fired him over the phone. But Bill didn't care. In the amount of time he worked there, no one took him seriously, and at his position in the backroom of the store, he was used at not much more than a mule. Interestingly, Bill had tried to quit before. Shortly before New Year's, Bill told Nick, one of the few coworkers who didn't treat him like he was worthless, that he was done, and went home in the middle of his shift, leaving Nick and Rhonda Worlan (F11) alone to do the bulk of the work themselves. However, Trish called him the next day and convinced him to come back. He ended up regretting it. In April, he was working with Mitch in the backroom; Mitch was on a ladder handing boxes down to Bill. Unfortunately, Bill accidentally put his finger on the ladder, a well known no-no when doing that particular task, and Mitch nearly severed it when he put a heavy box on it. Scott called 911 right away, but Bill passed out before the paramedics arrived. When they arrived, they found Bill's finger hanging by a thread. It was stitched back on, and Bill spent two days in the hospital and two weeks out of work. Finally, in early July, Bill left for good.

At thirty-four, with no high school diploma or college degree, the inability to hold on to a job for longer than a year, a criminal record, and an eight-year-old daughter he never sees, it was safe to call Bill a deadbeat and a loser. But with a prize of total removal of criminal records and brief, but valuable, fame for the winner (potentially leading to a lot of money), Bill thought it could be a good chance to get his life turned around for good: he could see his daughter, start a business, and be set for life.

Armed with a katana sword, Bill figured he could be a contender. But did he have what it takes to kill another person?

Just then, Bill heard a noise nearby. In the darkness, employees of SaveHouse were somewhat visible with their light beige khaki pants, and maybe the green shirt they all had to wear depending on how bright it was. But Bill, being kidnapped at his home, was wearing dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt, meaning he was almost impossible to see in the dark. Were it not for his pasty-white skin, he would have been completely invisible. Taking refuge by leaning against a tree, Bill quietly took out his sword and saw a shadow moving toward him. After a minute, he realized that it was Brittany Holden (F19), a pretty twenty-one-year-old with dirty blonde hair and a petite figure who usually worked in the clothing section of SaveHouse but once in a while worked as a cashier. Bill had nothing against her, but he was unafraid of her. As she approached, Bill saw that she was holding a switchblade, so he had to be careful. When she passed the tree he was hiding beside, without hesitation, Bill attacked, and ran his sword into her back, through her liver, and out of her chest. She gasped in pain, and Bill removed the sword. She fell to the ground, and looked up to see her attacker.

Bill looked down to her. "I'm sorry Brittany, it wasn't personal."

She tried to say something more, but could only say one thing:

"F-f-f-f-fuck y-y-y-you-u..."

She died ten seconds later.

"I'm sorry," Bill repeated.

Bill felt some remorse for killing Brittany, but not enough. Thinking that her switchblade would make a decent back-up weapon, he took it, folded the blade away, and put it in his pocket. He then put his katana sword back in its sheath and put it back in his duffel bag. After rummaging through Brittany's bag, he took her food and water, and disappeared, armed with the knowledge that he was not afraid to kill another person.

Dead

Males

#15

Females

#10

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