Hour 50
16 Contestants Remaining
He wasn't a big fan of math, though had the unfortunate curse of being good, and damn good, at it. Algebra, Trigonometry, Statistics, no matter what was put in front of him, he could do it and with very little effort. The problem was that it was one of the few subjects he found to be legitimately boring. True, there were many classes that didn't exactly hold the attention like all the others, but they at least had moments, or at least potential for moments, where interest might be piqued. Math was just that, pure, plain and dependable, math was just formulas and would always be formulas, no more, no less. You could plug them into real world situations on some levels, but the rest was practical information. You can win and you can lose in life with numbers playing little if any role in it. The rest was pure memory, sometimes lack thereof, and plain, simple luck.
Regardless, none of that helped him finish the math work any sooner. He'd taken Advanced Placement for one reason or another, maybe because it would help him get into a better college, maybe because he didn't have much better to do, but the workload was killer to say the least. This seat in the library, this pile of papers a half-inch thick and a pencil that was almost worn down to the nub was all he had to show for it. Yeah, get it all done and you'll make Ivy League, that oughta show them. Yeah, real mature attitude you got there.
The thin pile of papers hit the table in front of the boy, but he didn't even have to look up to know what it was.
"How'd you do?" he asked the dark-haired girl.
"You taught me half this stuff, how do you think I did?" she responded with a wry smile.
The boy smiled at her confidence, marveling that someone had enough to rival his own.
"The collective unconscious," he fired back.
"Carl Jung," she replied with an increasing smile.
"Classical conditioning with pigeons and dogs," he replied.
"Ivan Pavlov," she retorted.
"The guy who needs to be told that a cigar is just a cigar," he responded.
"Sigmund Freud," she replied without missing a beat.
"Fun little ink blots that really don't have any bearing on a person's psyche as we've found out in recent times but still have some bearing on the unconscious?"
"Hermann Rorschach," she replied cannily.
"The greatest movie ever made?" he added.
"By your standards or real people's standards?" she shot back mischievously.
"I'm real people just like anyone else, ain't I?"
"Sometimes," the girl responded, then taking the only moment to think she'd taken during their last exchange, "The Howling?"
"Exactly," he replied with a wide grin as he continued to tap his pencil, "you've got the mom from E.T. and Cujo, Slim Pickens and the guy who directed Gremlins, how can this not be the greatest movie ever made?"
"No romantic subplot?" she fired back with a mischievous smile.
"With werewolves trying to eat E.T.'s mom, a romantic subplot is unnecessary, that's a perfect enough movie as is."
"Can't agree with you on that one," the girl replied, "but you saved my life again, so I can't complain either."
"So do you want to answer my question?" the boy asked with his slightly crooked smile, "How'd you do?"
Beaming like she never had before, Lenore Raven flipped the papers over to reveal a bright red "A, CONGRATULATIONS!" written in big letters. She smiled the smile that would one day land her a modeling contract somewhere far away from Braiwood, but for now, it settled for pure, unadulterated pride in a job well done. The boy, her tutor, couldn't help but smile back. He'd been tutoring classmates for as long as he could remember since, well, he was the best at what he knew. Science, history, computers, mathematics, the knowledge he had stored was second to few, but by far he knew his psychology the best. To many the human brain was a mystery, but for someone with as intimate a relationship with their brain as he, it came only natural.
Regardless of skill, he was rather fond of helping out Lenore. She, unlike most was legitimately interested in learning and was a fast study at that. Five tests he'd help prepare her for, and five tests she'd aced. Not bad, even by his standards. Then again, the fact that she was also unbelievably beautiful helped him look forward to their tutoring sessions. One quarter Puerto Rican, one quarter Japanese and one half Croatian with a last name that reflected none of them, she was an exotic beauty that turned heads on a regular basis. Her jet black hair fell down to the middle of her back, framing deep brown eyes and a figure that most men lusted after yet few would ever see. As a star on the swim team she had made her way into the elite of Braiwood High as one of the Swim Six.
"Am I good, or am I good?" the boy asked with his widest of smiles.
"You're good, but I'm the one who got the grade," she replied, then quickly adding before he could respond, "but I wouldn't have been good without you, so let's say we're both damn good and end it at that?"
"That'll work for me," the boy replied.
"I'm in the mood to celebrate though," Lenore continued as she sat down next to him, "let's go see a movie."
"A movie?" he asked.
"Yeah, you know, a dark place with a bunch of seats where they project a picture on a screen that moves and even talks? I'll even throw in for some popcorn. You saved me, I owe you that much."
The boy mulled his options over for a moment before asking, "When's good for you?"
"How's tonight? They've got the best movie ever made at the Rialto for the midnight movie."
"By your standards or by real people's standards?" the boy quipped in response with a raised eyebrow.
"You're terrible, you know that?" she asked with a bit of a laugh.
"I can be. Midnight's good for me, but I got popcorn."
"Hey, that's not fair," Lenore protested.
"Probably not, but I've still got some honor to me and I could never let someone as pretty as you pay for popcorn. It's on me, maybe I'll let you spring next time."
Lenore couldn't help but blush at the boy's honesty. She knew that she was beautiful and wasn't ashamed to admit it, but to hear someone else, particularly a guy, mention it still got to her. No need to be self-conscious after all...
"You swear?"
"Nope, never," the boy replied with his crooked smile, "but I will pick you up promptly at eleven, how's that sound?"
"It sounds like you're taking care of me pretty nicely," she responded with an earnest grin.
"I'm just doin what I do best," he continued with a nod and a grin.
Lenore giggled lightly, hardly able to contain the glee of the moment, "Where would this world be without Damien Myers?"
Pushing some hair from his eyes as he leaned back in the chair, Damien let out with his semi-cocky smile, "Probably a much better place, but I thank you for your sympathies."
"I highly doubt that," Lenore replied honestly, "you sell yourself short."
"Don't we all..."
Damien Myers, a.k.a. Boy # 17 ran like a man possessed, and all things considered he quite probably was. He was battered in more ways than a human body should survive; a rib broken, coming dangerously close to puncturing his lungs with every breath, a gouge in his neck that was beginning to smell rather septic, and then of course there was that piece of metal lodged in his skull. He may have been numb to it most of the time, but now he knew of it more than ever. It cut something, pressed against another, and overall made the impulses within his brain shoot around in all the ways they shouldn't and yet still let him survive. It used to be simply metal, affecting his behavior on a sporadic basis when the blood pressure would get too high, but no, now it truly had purpose. It had purpose, it had strength, and it had a voice. It was The Demon, pure and simple, and as it was the Demon didn't seem to mind the pain. If anything, it relished it.
Damien ran at an almost impossible speed through the forest, not minding as the trees lashed at his flesh and broke around him. He could hear the snaps and smell the smells that only the jungle could make (at least for now, once the sun hits the bodies this place is gonna smell dank), yet all feeling seemed to be numb. I'm dying, and I don't care. That's wrong, right?
Damn you've got this whole setup done right now don't you? What do you mean? Running in, killing people, manipulating, working, yeah, you probably won't make it out of here alive but you'll have yourselves a real good time while it's happening at least, right? The others, the real fighters, the ones who have a chance, they're going to get out of here, they're going to kill and they're going to get out of here, right? Probably, yeah. But they're bad people. Who gives a damn if they're bad people? We're bad people too if you haven't realized it yet, murderer, killed 'em all. They all deserved it, they had it coming. No, they needed it. You did this for their own good. Hypocritical bastard, you did this all and you're totally useless. If you were really worth a damn you'd do all this yourself instead of making other people do your work for you. But that isn't fun.
Stopping slightly to get his bearings, Damien shook his head to try and get at least one voice to be one he could follow. No, no, no, stop it just stop it you have to focus! Focus! Just focus DAMMIT! You may not like what we've become, you may not like what we've done, but we've done it and we have to keep doing what we've done so there will be a winner, not just another victim like we've become. Just do it, stop pulling all this shit and do it, just do it and get it over with. We're better than this, we can do this, we've got strength and power that none of them could even dream of, not even that attack dog. Yeah, the pit bull, the wrestler, the jock, you could take him. You could take him and you could've killed him and his girl but you didn't... No, their ends are for another time, for battles even greater than this. Just focus, focus, FOCUS!
Closing his eyes forcefully, Damien grunted and arched his neck violently to slam his forehead against a nearby tree. Better.
Getting back into his sprint through the jungle, Damien couldn't help but think back. It was guys like that red girl's creature and those whores that made us know who we were. They made us know our name. They made us... better.
But what about her?
The Rialto was about as far from a modern movie theater as one could find, yet it had a charm all it's own that still packed the seats. True, it's seats were hard wood and hadn't been changed out for anything close to padded since the twenties, it had a distinct odor between mildew and decades of popcorn butter that was hard to place, and it only showed art house movies during the day, but it was it's midnight movie lineup that was the hit among the Braiwood High students. At first they only showed one midnight movie and only once a week, in the classic Rocky Horror Picture Show. It wasn't all that successful at first, but had its definite audience among college students and those who just couldn't find their way out of the seventies. Eventually they got enough of an audience and started showing other movies on a rotating basis, pretty much anything from the eighties and nineties that had either a cult following or some form of significance in the grand scheme of things.
Damien looked up at the words on the marquee as he exited the theatre. Say Anything... It's not a movie he'd have gone out and seen on his own since he did not know enough to really say whether or not it'd be something he'd want to see in the first place. But the combination of John Cusack and Cameron Crowe was too much for even Damien to pass up.
He shuddered. Lenore was hanging off his arm a bit wearily. This was waaaaaay past her bedtime it seemed, his too for that matter, but he didn't mind. It was the first time in as long as he knew that he could remember a girl actually wanting to be around him, let alone go out with him. It was a nice feeling, a bit too familiar maybe, but not one that was altogether that bad. Something though... brought back memories. He shuddered again.
"You didn't like the movie, did you?" she asked.
"Did I say that?" Damien replied.
"No, but your face is telling a story," Lenore responded with a warm grin, "It's all right if you don't like the movie, I'm just glad you indulged me in it one night."
"I never said I didn't like the movie, I do," Damien admitted.
"You do now?" she asked.
"Yeah, I do," Damien continued, "classic love story about two people who were never meant to be together in the first place finding a common bond and mutual attraction. Still, the parents of one interfere and do not approve and try to break them apart, but their love is so strong it doesn't allow them to stay apart for long, I mean, this is totally classic Shakespeare. Most people sell the 80's short, but let me tell you there that almost everything that came out of that decade was some of the most amazing storytelling ever known."
He looked back to the girl hanging off of him and noted a confused look on her face.
"Sorry, I got on a rant," Damien added a bit sheepishly.
"No, it's OK, I'm just surprised to see that you appreciated it that much," Lenore replied honestly.
"Surprised?"
"Yeah, really," Lenore continued tiredly as she lay her head against his shoulder once more, "it's an amazing movie, and it will forever have a spot in my heart because it's the ultimate unlikely love story. The guy's not exactly ambitious in life, but he's got the biggest heart. She's beautiful and brilliant, but the rest of the school finds her intimidating so she doesn't have much of a social life."
As they continued on, Damien rolled an empty beer bottle from the ground out of Lenore's way. She smiled.
Nobody thinks it'll work... not her father, not his friends... but somehow it doesn't matter. They go through the ups and downs of emotional vulnerability along the way but they just grow closer together, not apart. It's also quirky and funny, much like the guy himself, and is killer quotable."
She looked into his eyes with a mischievous grin and spoke up a bit jokingly.
"And no offense Damien, but I doubt there's a single girl out there who doesn't want a Lloyd Dobbler for herself. He epitomizes the perfect man. So maybe if you don't get into the story, you could just take notes instead?"
"Funny, you're a regular comedian you know that?" he replied as he stuck out his tongue.
"I have my difficult moments," she responded with a shrug.
"At least you do them adorably," he replied with a grin.
"Thanks," she replied, "but I'm still sorry if they get in your way."
"They don't," he said soothingly, "you're doing just fine. How's this guy got the market cornered on all other guys though? I mean, you say I should take notes, what makes him what it makes him?"
"Well," Lenore replied a bit dreamily, "he's philosophical, he's intelligent even though not everybody knows it, has a killer taste in music, he's a non-conformist, he's funny, he's attractive in an unconventional way, and, well, he likes a sport that isn't widely known or appreciated but doesn't let that get him down."
"Sport of the future," Damien quipped.
Lenore looked back into his eyes genuinely impressed, "You're catching on."
"I'm taking notes," he shot back.
Lenore couldn't help but bite her lip nervously as she looked up and down the scars on his neck. He wasn't so bad, not as bad as they all said...
"You know," she said nervously, "that could also describe you too."
Damien looked down to her hesitantly, "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do," Lenore replied a bit hurt.
"Then if you do I gotta wonder why," Damien countered, "I mean, look at me, I am a freakshow incarnate, scarred, mutilated and no good, while you're, look at you, you're..."
"I'm what?"
"Perfect."
"None of us is perfect," Lenore replied with conviction, "and you're not nearly as imperfect as you might have yourself believe. Some people may think you're bad because you look different, but none of them got to know you. I know you, you gave me a chance by not thinking I'm just some dumb swim bimbo and I got the chance to see that you're really an unbelievably nice, sweet guy, that no one was willing to give a chance. I wanted to give you a chance."
"Thank you for that much I guess," Damien responded, "but you should probably run away now for your sake. If anybody saw you and me they'd probably go nuts and I don't want to drag you down with me. I've got a hard enough time making it from day to day as is."
Turning away, Damien pulled his arm from Lenore's.
"Damien, please," she pleaded.
"No, for your sake, don't, please," Damien replied. He would have said more, but she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him in close for a kiss. Damien was fast enough to turn away, her lips only finding his scarred cheek.
"I don't want this to hurt you," Damien said softly as he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
"Damien, please," he could hear her plea, but it was no use. Damn it, why are you doing this to her? This isn't right, it isn't good, you hurt her. It's for her own good, she's only in for a world of more hurt if she gets it with a freak like you.
The lights of a car passing slowly caused him to squint, but it wasn't enough to deter his flight. Seriously, look at her and look at you, what'd you do to deserve something so good? It wasn't supposed to be, she's up there and you're down here and, Jesus, just keep going faster maybe it'll go away. You killed your last girlfriend when she broke you to win.
Just stop it, I've been good, I haven't been freaking out, I haven't let the blood pressure rise, everything's good, everything's happy, the beast is not coming out. Those aren't memories, those are bad dreams, it's all a bad dream. Just run away, run away and let it stop hurting...
"Hey baby, lookin for a good time?" Damien could hear the male voice say from behind.
"No thanks, I'm just going home," he could hear Lenore's voice reply. Turning around, Damien could see that the car that passed him moments before was driving slowly, keeping up with the pace of Lenore as she walked in the opposite direction.
"Awww, come on," the voice from the car said, "we're gonna party, you like to party, don'tcha Lenore?"
"Yeah," another voice came from the car, "I seen you party, you real good at it too."
No, nothing's right about this. This is NOT leading anywhere good. Quickening his stride back in her direction, Damien listened in further on the conversation.
"Come on, just for a few minutes, you'll have fun," a third voice intimated from the back of the car.
"Listen, I'm just going home, but you guys have fun at your party OK? I just need to get some sleep."
Before he could reach Lenore, Damien saw a hand shoot out and grab her by the wrist. She shrieked out, but being a good distance from almost anyone able to hear, it did no good.
"Come on, it'll be fun," the almost beast-like voice hissed from inside the car.
Running now in a full sprint, Damien wrenched Lenore's wrist from the man in the car.
"You OK?" Damien asked her softly.
"Yeah, thank you," Lenore replied.
"HEY!" the voice said from inside the vehicle, "what are you doing here freak show?"
Looking inside, Damien could get a good view of the assailants and looked on with disgust. It's occupants could have been worse, but not by much by Damien's best estimates. Calvin Orkan, Tyler Thorne and Joey Villalobos, all three members of the Braiwood High School football team and all three of them people you normally wouldn't want to mess around with, let alone as drunk as they were. The smell of cheap vodka permeated from the car, and even though he was driving slow and next to the sidewalk, Calvin was weaving about. To top matters off, they were all boyfriends to members of Damien's only declared enemy: The Brat Pack. Calvin, Tyler and Joey were all currently hooked up with Brynn, Cheryl and Serenity respectively, making Damien that much more wary of continuing this on any further.
"Play along," Damien whispered into Lenore's ear. She nodded slightly before Damien bowed down to look in the car's window.
"The lady and I were on a date thank you very much," Damien replied with a proud grin.
"Bull shit," Tyler said with a notable slur.
"Actually, no shit," Lenore replied as she played in with the act, wrapping an arm around Damien's shoulder and stroking his chin with her free hand, "Damien was just getting ready to pick me up before we were going to a private party of our own, wasn't that right."
"Damn right," Damien replied as he got into the fun.
"I thought you said you was goin home," Joey said from the back seat.
"Well, I am going home," Lenore intimated as she looked up at Damien, "that's where I do all my partying."
"Yeah, well somethin's telling me you could do a better party with us instead of the freak show here, we got it where it counts you know?" Calvin laughed out with a grating bray.
"Oh yeah," Lenore challenged as she pulled Damien into a powerful kiss. His hesitance lasted for only a moment before he got into enjoying it very much, wrapping his arm around her and stroking her hair.
"Oh dude, this is really fucked up," Joey hissed.
"Come on babe, come with us real men and we'll show you a good time, we got it where it counts," Tyler said proudly as he imitated humping the glove compartment.
"Please, I could get off better with a roll of pennies than with all you guys combined," Lenore laughed as she kissed Damien's neck, "so FUCK OFF!"
She kicked the side of the car, creating a visible dent in the side. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that this was more than likely a very, very bad move given the situation.
"BITCH!" Calvin yelled as he slammed the parking brake into place. He kicked the door open with such speed and ferocity that it even tested Lenore's fast reflexes to dodge it. In seconds, the three football players all exited the car and began to surround the pair like a pack of wild wolves.
"You have any idea how much this fucking car cost? My dad's going to kick my ass, you know that?" Calvin hollered. He pulled an empty bottle from inside the car, smashing it on a nearby parking meter and pointing it angrily to Damien and Lenore. Lenore disappeared behind Damien's shoulder (a mean feat considering she was three inches taller than him), and did her best to hide in the fear, while Damien did his best to stare them down. He knew there was no comparison between them. At five feet and four inches tall, one hundred thirty-three pounds, Damien Myers was hardly a physical threat to any of the athletes. Hell, Joey was just shy of five foot ten and two hundred pounds and he was the smallest of the three. Things were going to get ugly and they were going to get ugly fast. Don't let the beast out.
Calvin's eyes glazed over for a moment switching from anger to disgust, and after that to a smile that made even Damien's blood chill. It was pure evil, and being somewhat of an expert on the matter, Damien knew that the situation went from worse to screwed.
"You know I don't know what the greater crime is, you two fucking with my car," Calvin said as he motioned to the dent in his car door, then looking up and eying Lenore like a wild beast, "Or such a fine piece of ass like that goin with a freak."
"Freak show's worse man," Tyler laughed maniacally, "crimes against nature beat crimes 'gainst property man anyday."
"Look guys, I don't want this to get bad," Damien said as he held his hand out peaceably. Dropping what was left of his bottle, Calvin grabbed Damien's hand and pulled the one-armed boy hard, slamming his face into the parking meter with a spray of blood.
"It's already there man," Calvin said as he kicked Damien into the parking meter once more, "come on boys, let's do this!"
Joey hopped out from behind the car while Tyler slid across the hood, both star athletes showing surprising agility as they ran down and grabbed Lenore.
"HELP!" she shrieked, getting no attention from any corner of the street. Already the few moviegoers that exited the theater had disappeared, while most anyone else liable to be on the street was already asleep. Nevertheless, she thrashed about in the boys hands, kicking off Tyler's chest with little avail.
As her plight continued, Calvin pummeled Damien repeatedly, actually knocking the parking meter he'd been braced against out of its setting. No, no, this can't be happening, it isn't! They're dragging her off, taking her away, stuffing her in the car. You know what that means, don't you? You know what they're going to do!
SLAM!
Can't, no, don't let it-
CRACK!
They're going to break her, they're breaking you, don't, no, rising, rising, don't go, no, don't let it out don't let it go don't let it out don't let it-
The Beast got out.
Rolling to the side, Damien could hear as Calvin's fist connected with the parking meter, the athlete howling in considerable pain. Getting into a crouching position, he braced his body and delivered a devastating uppercut to Calvin's sternum and sprawled the athlete out onto the ground. Summoning strength that was nearly inhuman, Damien could hear the blood pulsing behind his ears. It's here, it's out, so let it go and let it go big.
Reaching to the base of the parking meter, Damien ripped it from its foundation and swung it above his shoulder, then in a powerful arc that slammed into the downed Calvin's face with a tremendous thud. The football player dropped like a sack of potatoes with a pained groan as he held his bleeding face. Damien hardly took a chance to look at the fallen athlete as he turned his attention to the other two.
As they tried to force Lenore into the back seat, Tyler was the first to feel Damien's wrath as the mutilated boy swung the parking meter underhand, slamming it into the football player's testicles. He screamed a surprisingly high pitch scream as he fell away from the car and onto the curb, quickly curling up into the fetal position as he cried out like a wounded little girl. Joey too had little time to react as he turned around, catching the head of the meter in the center of his chest as Damien thrust it out angrily. Two ribs cracked, yet with the speed that Damien had neither knew it. Swinging it around in another arc, he caught Joey in the side of the head and threw him to the ground out cold.
"Sonofaa BITCH!" Calvin said groggily as blood flowed from his mouth. The football player spat out some teeth as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing and opening a butterfly knife.
"Fuccking freeek," the athlete struggled to spit out as he held the knife threateningly and dove for Damien, "your fault, it's your FAULT! YOU DIE MOTHER-"
Damien didn't hesitate as he dodged the blade, swinging the parking meter around in an arc that threw Calvin into the side of his car. Lifting the weapon over his head, Damien swung it down with incredible strength and crushed all the bones from Calvin's right hand into the side of his car. The athlete hardly had time to yell out in pain as Damien swung the parking meter into his legs, sending him to the ground and knocking him out against the concrete.
"MY FAULT? MY FAULT?" Damien yelled in an almost monstrous tone as he swung the parking meter into Calvin's unconscious form, "I WAS LIVING MY LIFE AND THIS IS ALL MY FAULT?"
He kicked the football player into the side of his car, then reaching up and swinging the heavy pipe into his side again, "I DIDN'T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS AND IT'S MY FAULT?"
"Damien, you're killing him!" Lenore pleaded as she ran up to his side. Like a man possessed, Damien practically roared out in anger as he knocked her to the ground. Lifting the parking meter above his head, he prepared to slam it clear through the girl's face. She cowered back in fear with tears streaming down her face, and it finally hit him.
Christ, what are you doing? What happened?
He dropped the parking meter and soon followed it to the ground. It was too close this time, too close...
The Demon was glad to have found its destination even in the dark, especially in the dark given the dangers that traipsing around this island at night had. Sure, there were the crazies and the murderers out there, but he could handle them. No, running around like the maniac that he was in the pitch darkness, moonlight or not, that was almost more dangerous than the game itself. Fall down a hill, break your leg and die of shock in less than a day and in extreme agony. Run into a snakes nest and get an even more painful death. No, no, surviving is a good thing, especially with what we must do.
It came to a rest to see that familiar red glow that indicated its new home. Yes, the starting bunker, the place where it all began. It was brilliance, pure brilliance, we should be glad that we thought of it when we did, shouldn't we? The Demon smiled.
As per the rules of the game, almost all of the island would remain Danger Zone free for almost the entirety of the game. It's only in the last three hours where the rest of the island becomes a danger zone, while the area around the starting bunker becomes a free for all zone. It was brilliance, pure and simple; let everyone run willy-nilly for the first major chunk and catch all those strong enough to survive until the end in one place for a true Battle Royale to the death. Last one standing wins, and that, that there is the brilliance.
Already it had been mortally wounded, it wasn't impossible for The Demon to tell. It may have had some chance for survival, but it was limited at best. Survival was a concern, but lacking that survival of the rest of those fit to survive was also important. That was where this plan came into play...
He set the majority of his supplies down at the base of a tree and set to work with the grenades in his belt and machete in hand. The Demon couldn't help but smile at its own successes. Brilliance, pure brilliance, and to think there was time where you didn't think you had it in you my boy, you've made us proud, real proud.
"Poor old Johnny Ray,
Sounded sad upon the radio, he moved a million hearts in mono.
Our mothers cried and sang along and who'd blame them.
Now you're grown, so grown, now I must say more than ever.
Go Toora Loora Toora Loo-Rye-Aye,
and we can sing just like our fathers.
Come on Eileen,
I swear (well he means) At this moment you mean everything,
With you in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty,
Ah come on Eileen."
Sure it was sappy, sure it was a one hit wonder, and sure, a band full of wannabe Irish rockers wearing nothing but overalls shouldn't have a place in the history books, but damn it if they didn't know how to make a catchy tune. Damien pressed himself off the ground in a series of one handed pushups that he probably made look easier than they were, doing his best to keep in with the music. It had been two weeks since the attack, his own injuries having been minor at best. Some scrapes, some bruises, nothing worse that'd mess up this face any more than it already is, am I right? They knew they were in a fight though, definitely. Joey lost some teeth and broke two ribs, one of Tyler's testicles had launched itself up into his abdomen so far that the doctors didn't know if they could retrieve it, while Calvin, well, he was in a neck brace, missing all sorts of teeth and had his arm broken in seventeen places, including his shattered fingers. The beauty part though, which was the real kicker, Damien got off on self defense while the three of them got charged with attempted assault and attempted sexual assault. Sure, odds were their case would be dropped, but what justice existed in the universe got them kicked off the football team and expelled from school. Now that was cool.
He laughed hesitantly, getting to his feet and looking in the full length mirror on his closet door. Even in a tank top and gym shorts he didn't look all that impressive, just some wiry little thing covered in scars and more reminders of the accident than he'd like to know. It's just so crazy sometimes, it's just-
The small stone landed on his bed with a barely audible thud, but with his senses adept as they were, Damien knew it the moment it touched his blanket. It was odd to say the least, do people really toss stones at windows anymore?
Looking out through the open window, Damien caught another stone in his right eye.
"Oh my god!" the female voice from below said with a combination of sorrow and laughter, "I'm so sorry!"
"Lenore?" Damien asked as he rubbed his sore eye.
"Yeah, it's me," she replied from the lawn, "I tried coming by earlier in the week, but your mother said you didn't want to see me. I didn't want to believe her so I have to hear it, but, do you want to see me?"
A look of disgust crossed Damien's face, but he did his best to mask it. His adopting parents were good people for the most part, but they were government contractors which made them hardasses to say the least. Still, they've never gone about controlling life this much.
"Meet me at the back door," Damien replied as he darted from his window. It took him mere seconds to turn off the radio and get down the stairs and open the sliding door to allow her inside. He stealthily led her up to his room, whereupon he closed the door so they might have some conversation in private. It was eleven at night and his parents already in bed, but Damien was favoring caution over anything else right now.
"Sorry about that," Damien continued, "my step-mom isn't real fond of me, well, knowing people prettier than I am. Thinks they're all out to use me."
Lenore looked hurt at the remark, but couldn't help asking, "Step-mom?"
"Yeah," Damien replied, "my parents... my parents died in the accident."
"Oh," Lenore said as she looked to the ground silently. It was common knowledge that her parents were killed in an automobile accident when she was only three, so Damien regretted having to tell it to her like that.
"And the Bailey's were kind enough to take me in. They were family friends, I think."
"You think?" she asked.
"I..." Damien added with a pause, "I don't rightly remember anything past the accident."
"I'm so sorry," Lenore said even more sheepishly, "I just... came to see if you were all right."
"Because of the fight?"
"Yeah, because of the fight," Lenore responded, "you really scared me there."
"Physically I'm fine, that was never an issue," Damien said, "I may have gotten my fair share of death threats from the Brat Pack, but that's nothing unusual."
Finding a hard time to put the next words together, Damien sat on his bed. Although he hadn't asked her to, Lenore sat beside him.
"I just can't come to terms with what I did to you."
"I'm fine," Lenore replied, "you just got caught up in the moment."
"No, I'm not fine, and that's not me getting caught up in the moment," he shot back, "no. It's me losing control."
"Control?" Lenore asked inquisitively.
Damien sighed, confessing a history that only he knew, "I've got a condition. I was really torn up in the accident, there was an explosion, and... I should've been dead."
Liar.
"I should've been dead but I wasn't. I woke up in a hospital, I wasn't whole. The doctors, they said I had a piece of metal still in my skull."
Lenore looked on speechlessly as Damien continued, "It's in my brain. It doesn't really interrupt with anything, but they say that taking it out in the position that it's in would kill me."
"My god..." Lenore replied.
"I can live with it though, it's not a problem," he responded quickly, then adding, "the doctors said I wouldn't live more than three months and look at me now. I'm fit and proper."
He looked on with certain pride, feeling sorry when the pride transformed into a slight grimace.
"The only problem is that it runs up against a major blood vessel. It's no danger to cut it open, but when my blood pressure gets too high, the metal presses up against the part of my brain that controls aggression. I don't know why, but when that happens, I just lose control, it's like I see what I'm doing but I have no control over what I am doing, and I hurt people. I could have hurt you, and that... that's something that I couldn't live with."
Don't trust her like the last one. She hit you with the bomb.
"You were stronger than your anger though, I saw that," Lenore replied with a hand on his shoulder, "you could have struck me but you didn't. You recognized what you were doing and did not allow yourself to harm me, I can't see how you could be worrying about control when you quite obviously showed restraint with me."
"I just..." Damien trailed off as a hint of a tear formed at the corner of his eye, "Why do you even bother with me?"
"Because no one bothered with me," Lenore replied, "No one bothered to see me as something other than a pretty face with a nice rack and long legs. You weren't looking to get into my pants from the moment you met me. People like me have been putting you down for so long, yet you were still willing to give me help when I needed it with no question. You gave me a chance."
He looked into her eyes in an effort to spot sincerity and found it in spades. Could you really be smitten with her?
Don't do this like the last one. You killed her.
She traced her hands over to his, holding his scarred palm as she looked into his eyes, "We're both orphans on our own. The world didn't want to give us a chance to begin with, but we found each other and I think together we can make our own chances."
As another tear rolled down his face Damien found himself grasping her fingers in his own. Looking up, he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Without a moment's hesitation, she reciprocated.
You murdered her with a piece of metal you pulled from your own leg.
Falling in with Lenore, for once Damien did not mind with what was being said in the back of his head. Complete and utter lucidity, a concept that had been vacant from Damien's life for as long as he could remember, had returned. As the young lovers bodies joined as one, Damien realized that what was missing was now a part of him again. He was complete.
The Demon wiped sweat from its brow as it finally finished carving that notch in the base of the heavy tree. It swung the machete once more just to make sure, and certainly enough it helped carve out a deeper V-indentation in the side of the tree. Like it had done for the four others, The Demon placed a thermite grenade in the notch and forced it so that it would stay in. Pulling the ball of twine that he had scavenged from an ancient office from his pocket, he tied one end through the ring of the pin, then walking maybe twenty paces to tie the other end of the twine to another tree at ankle level. Someone walks across, trips the twine, thermite explodes and the tree comes down.
"Beeeeeeautiful," it couldn't help exclaiming with some glee. Although the area immediately in front of the starting bunker was bathed in the bright red light of the Danger Zone, the Demon had been working within the grid that surrounded it setting up all sorts of booby traps for anyone who was careless enough to blunder into the area without checking. The truly strong, the truly deserving would be able to see them he was certain, while the undeserving, well, they would find out how good Damien really was at making traps. Already he had set up all five thermite grenades along the perimeter of the zone, each set to take down a massive tree and anyone not fast enough to get out of the way. There were maybe a dozen slings of varying sizes and strengths scattered about, and every free place he could find was filled in with a line or two of barbed wire that he had found on an old, rusty reel. Sure, most of these traps were non-lethal, but they would certainly make someone's presence known. Either that, or make them wish they were dead. It cackled lightly, taking particular delight in the spider's-web pattern of barbed wire that it had strung up across one of the major pathways. In the day it would be as plainly visible as anything, but at night, well, it might as well have been invisible.
Running along through the bushes (and being mindful of the various trip wires he had set up along the way), The Demon spotted another tree that would be rather fitting. It was tall, solid, lots of good branches for stringing things up. Another sling? No, that'd be too simple. Rock slide? That'd be a good one, but not proper. A dead fall? Yeah, now that'd be the trick. Just rig up some log or heavy rock with some wood and have it drop when they cross the trip wire. That was the beauty part.
It set the machete and samurai sword within a nook at the tree's base (invisible to anyone did not know where to look), climbing up the tree with surprising grace. Even with one arm he had little problem pulling his body up from branch to branch, wrapping his legs around the trunk for added support.
Finally reaching about fifty feet vertically, The Demon found the proper limb. It'd support the most weight. The others, they were good, but this, this one was perfect. It's a little high up though, gonna probably need more rope than we've already got around our chest. No bother, there's plenty of rope 'round this island if you're really willing to look for it, just gotta look in the right places, that's all.
Beginning its descent, The Demon did its best to find load bearing branches, yet found itself catching one about fifteen feet off the ground that just wasn't designed to support a body's weight. Not again...
Falling through air, The Demon hit the ground. Hard. Wind sucked painfully into his lungs through dry lips as it cursed its luck. Damn it, that was stupid. We can't make mistakes like that lest we reach a demise earlier than is needed. We musn't-
Sound. There were others. They could hear the footsteps, silent though they tried to be, but in the forest, nothing could be silent. The Demon groped blindly for a weapon, no, wrong side of the tree, the blades, they're on the other. Helpless! We're helpless!
Whirling around, The Demon pulled the screwdriver from his belt and held it like a knife. It did it in time to see the attackers and dodge to the side, though not enough to avoid the attack entirely. The point from the arrowhead fired through the edge of its shirt and into the tree, effectively pinning The Demon in place and leaving it vulnerable for attack. No time, no room, no strength to stab!
Seeing a shadow holding an ax above their head, The Demon yelled quickly and pitifully, "Please don't kill me! I know where the weapons were dropped yesterday morning! They're still there!"
The approaching shadow stopped moving.
"What did you say?" a female voice asked.
"I was at the airfield this morning, I saw where the weapons were dropped from the plane. I took some of them and hid the rest because I didn't think I could carry them all, but then I was attacked, and, God, this screwdriver is all I got, please don't kill me for the love of God I'll show you where to find the weapons!"
"I'm going to shoot him," the shorter female replied undaunted.
"Wait!" the taller female pressed as she held the ax in front of her, "We could use those weapons, and if he hid them he could show us where they are."
"It's Damien The Demon for Christ's sake, he's killed, how many people already?"
"Lots," the taller replied, "but look at him now, he's unarmed. Really."
Normally it would have taken offense to any quips regarding the loss of its arm, but now it was simply happy to be alive and cracked a friendly, albeit crooked, smile as it looked to the girls.
"He could kill us though," the shorter girl continued.
"Look," the taller girl replied, "we're a team, right? You and me work together."
"Yeah, but not for the sake of some piece of garbage like this," the shorter one fired back.
"I know, but I also know that we've got jack squat for weapons right now, and we could use whatever weapons are hidden there. He's got less than we do. Look, we can tie him up with the rope and make him show us where the weapons are, it'll be easy," the tall one replied. A long moment of silence followed, though The Demon knew enough that the girls were staring one another down in this power struggle. Surely enough, one of them did win, though not the one he had expected.
"All right," Lara Drake, a.k.a. Girl # 24, added as she lowered the crossbow, "but if he makes any moves, ANY move, I'm going to shoot him in the head myself."
"You do that," Lori Nicotero, a.k.a. Girl # 1 replied as she lowered her ax, "that's fair. You tie him up, I'm horrible with knots."
Lara walked over to The Demon a bit disgustedly, snatching the screwdriver from his hand and placing it in her belt. It could have fought her off, ripping the arm of the flimsy shirt from the tree and ramming the screwdriver through her skull. It wouldn't have been difficult to grab the crossbow up and land a few arrows in tall model girl's chest either, but, well, its plea for mere survival actually lent itself to a potentially good time. If anything, The Demon was rather interested in what would happen if these girls were led to the airfield. Miss Cooper would almost certainly give them an interesting time, that was a certainty.
Lara tied a clumsy knot of rope around The Demon's only wrist and then his neck. It would have been easy to wriggle out of, yet it made it seem as if they were the tightest knots in the world. Really, what was going to happen to them would be most certainly epic, and it was almost impossible to keep from laughing.
"Keep moving," Lara said threateningly as she held one end of the rope in one hand as if it were a leash while holding her crossbow in the other, "and don't try anything funny or else I'll put one through you."
"Oh no, I'd never dream of doing that," it replied almost honestly, "I'd never do that for the world..."
She held him close, her hands around his neck as she rested her forehead on his scarred chest, her beads of sweat mingling with his own. Damien pulled the blanket higher with his good hand, trying to look down with a smile, yet still wondering what he had done to deserve something so amazing.
"You're trembling," she noted with a hint of a smile.
"I'll be fine," he replied with a wavering voice.
"Damien?" Lenore asked.
"Yeah?" Damien responded to the best of his abilities.
"Would you go to prom with me?"
For once in his life, it took little hesitation to respond to what otherwise would have been a typical open and shut situation.
"I'd love to," he replied with his crooked smile, pulling his new girlfriend in closer as they snuggled under the covers.
In the long run, had he known what would have happened, Damien probably would have emphatically said no. Instead, it led to a chain of events that culminated in Prom Night 2003 that would give birth to perhaps the fiercest, if not most sadistic, competitor that the Battle Royale Program would ever know: The Demon.
