Title: Johnny Survivor
Rating: PG. I don't think there's anything bad in this one. Sands remembers not to swear all by himself now.
Summary: (The first 3 chapter summaries give you the gist.) I lost control of this story looooooong ago. Doesn't make me love it any less, but I concede; you win this round, SS. And Psnoo, you asked for it! More insanity, Fish Boy, Shooter, and a new Angel. Bit of a twist to Tribal Council and I think that's all for now.
Disclaimer: Nope, still nada. I'm now the proud owner of a quart of fake blood, but that's about it.
Author's Notes: Teehee, I love that this story has been so corrupting and addictive! Why, it almost makes me want to update on time... not that much, but almost. Thanks for all the support, suggestions, insanity, new members, everything.
Shoot... her
Arenas' Hangout- Afternoon
--- Arenas stretched, beach chair squeaking in protest. Her new tropical corner was definitely helping the creativity flow more freely, but every aspiring author needed a break every once in awhile. It was then the trouble started.
"Arenas, where are you? We need to talk," a voice announced. Arenas perked up slightly, wondering if another chapter was due already. Granted, it'd been 5 days, but didn't your average writer get 7? She never really knew with this rabid crowd. Upon seeing Psnoo leaning in the doorway decked out in full paintball commando gear, paintball gun casually spinning between her fingers, Arenas knew it really couldn't be a good omen.
"Listen up, Sandsy-girl, I don't like Bon-bon. I don't like what he... she... it's doing to my Morty-bear. I want you to fix that."
"Meaning you're going to splat me if I refuse," Arenas observed, eyeing the paintball gun. Yes, the paint may have been water soluble, but she wasn't totally sure she had enough ammo in her water pistol to compete with Psnoo's sure to be fully loaded gun. If she didn't, Arenas could bet her island sunset mural would no longer be the blues and golds she was so fond of.
"More or less," Psnoo shrugged.
"Uh... why not go and ah... follow DB's lead? I won't exactly let you harm Bon-bon but... you can by all means prompt Mort to... fight back... I guess..." Arenas stopped. Mort killing Bon-bon wasn't appealing either, but maybe Shooter would put his two cents in. Speaking of which... "You don't need money, do you? I'm fresh out."
"Nah, I'm covered," Psnoo waved a hand. "I promise to be back in someone's pocket in no time."
Arenas didn't comment as Psnoo left. It was going to be another one of those weird chapters.
Last time
--- Hahaga, despite great adversity and a faceful of ether, was competing against Inaga in a race to collect their flags first. The only catch was that the teams were blindfolded. Despite their issues, Hahaga tackled the challenge like old pros led by Fred and to win Immunity. Inaga is faced again with Tribal Council.
Inaga- Tribal Council
--- "Is it me, or is this getting a tad one sided?" Spencer grumbled. Inaga wasn't inclined to agree, as that would mean they probably couldn't win. But they couldn't disagree. So much for a rally on the home front.
By this time, Inaga had gone through the moves often enough that it was growing tired and old. Not even the fire and ambience could hold their spirits above sea level. Their staffs were lit and the brooding team sat in their orderly lines. Even the host seemed genuinely sympathetic.
"Well?"
"Hahaga's way too lucky," Spencer grumbled.
"You say this as though there's some cheating going on."
"Now I said nothing about cheating, is there something you'd like to say?" Spencer's eyes glittered in the firelight. Inaga had grown looser around the alien, but this went to show that they simply couldn't think him totally harmless. He looked positively fearsome.
"Only that Hahaga seems able to bring it together better than Inaga. What would you have me say?"
"That you're cheating."
Arenas' Hangout- Night
--- Arenas smacked her forehead. Spencer always was the trouble maker and now he had to question the immunity challenges. There was no end to the trouble he caused. Sighing, she decided that another finger break was in order, and sought out an Angel instead. There was one person who could make Spencer stop being a dastardly alien. Maybe not now, but definitely later.
Inaga- Tribal Council
--- "Donnie, what happened out there?" the host asked, unable to cope with Spencer's antics. It clearly wasn't the answer Spencer had been looking for, but there were always other ways of exacting revenge. He was here to win a game first, take over the Earth later, if he could believe it.
"I don't know. It seemed as though Hahaga was used to stuff like that wandering around blind... That Sands... whoa..." Donnie shook his head. There was a general murmur of assent at this, except Spencer, who snorted.
"Think you guys can pull it off tomorrow?"
"We'll have to, won't we?" Spence muttered. Donnie shot a look at Spencer that told him quite plainly to ease off. Spencer rolled his eyes and was otherwise silent.
"Okay, guys, hopefully this will be your last time voting. In order to commemorate this, I'd like to try something a bit new this time around. You've done this silly ritual time and again... isn't it time that you get a bit of a break? I sure hope you think so, because here's how this is going to work...-"
Axel glanced at Ichabod, wondering just what exactly was going on. This wasn't natural and further more, it seemed almost ominous. He wondered if there were any deals with the devil involved. Ichabod returned the stare with an equally confused one. Not good.
"We've recently held a poll online that decided which one of you got to be saved, as it were. Your prize is immunity tonight. You get your own individual immunity and cannot be voted off tonight. Only catch is, you can't decide who gets this gift, your fans do. This is exactly what happened, and the results are as such. Gilbert, Spencer, and Sam are all tied for second place. Axel, you win tonight's immunity vote. Nobody may vote for Axel this time around. With this in mind, Axel, why don't you vote first?"
The poor boy couldn't get his mind around what had just happened. That was it? His fans back home let him stay on another three days guilt free? Well... that was unexpected. Not unpleasant, but definitely unexpected. He got up, and performed his mandatory duty.
Axel
--- "Well... I guess... I'm going to have to vote for someone. Uh... yeah, I'm voting for you because it's increasingly hard to vote for anybody and I don't know you as well. I'm sorry."
Ichabod
--- "I wish you luck in your endeavors. I just don't think you were meant to be the Survivor."
Inaga- Tribal Council
--- Sam filed back into his row and nodded at the host. That was everybody. Who'd get the chop?
"I'll go tally the votes," the host announced, following the carefully planned ritual. Silence reigned thick and heavy over the council. The host's footsteps preceded him and Inaga tensed, sensing the impending axe.
"Once the votes are read, the decision is final. First vote. Sam."
It merited no reaction from Sam, but there was some throat clearing involved. The host pulled out a second slip of paper.
"Second vote. Gilbert."
Whether it was a general agreement to be strong or otherwise, nobody protested if their name was read.
"1 vote Sam, 1 vote Gilbert, 1 vote Spencer, 1 vote Ichabod. Next vote. Donnie."
Inaga hadn't encountered a split vote before. It didn't look as though it would be an issue, unfortunately, as with Axel out of the elimination, That made the next vote the crucial one.
"The third person voted out of Inaga. Gilbert."
The tension didn't ease much, but it was over for the night. 5 had survived the vote, 1 through grace and they only had 2 more votes before the merger. They hoped it wouldn't be them again, but it was hard not to be down hearted at a time like this. After a parting wave, Gilbert picked up his staff and brought it to the host.
"The tribe has spoken."
Gilbert
--- "I think I should have played it differently. Actually, I know I should have, but I can't complain now. Besides, if we'd had another vote... I think I would have let Spence have at it."
Spencer
--- "I'm on to you, whoever you are."
Hahaga- Morning
--- Bon-bon was close. Bon-bon was very close. Mort was inches away, a thick rope of drool snaking its way out of the side of his mouth. Bon-bon found this utterly endearing, but it wasn't enough. But Bon-bon wanted to snuggle and knew that it could prove to be a tricksy situation if she messed up. She'd need all the girlish trickery and intellect afforded to her. Of course... she hadn't counted on the determination of some Angels when it comes to their Johnnies.
"Morty-bear... oh Morty-bear..."
Bon-bon's head whipped about in fear and suspicion. Morty-bear? My Morty-bear! Something would have to be done. So she slipped a hand into Mort's magic pocket, clamped a hand around the first thing she felt and crept out of the shelter. On the fringes of Camp Hahaga was a figure in argyle calling softly for 'Morty-bear.' Bon-bon needed to act fast, lest Mort actually did wake up. She knew only too well how that would end.
She circled the perimeter of the camp, trying to get behind Psnoo. My Morty-bear!
"Now hold up just a second there, pilgrim, I know you're there."
Bon-bon froze. How did Psnoo know that? There was no longer any point in continuing to stalk the Angel, so she stepped out of the trees, hands tucked neatly behind her back.
"You're here for... Mory-bear?"
"Don't act so hurt, your headband's hard to miss. And yes, I have to give Mort a message."
Bon-bon fingered her hot pink headband methodically, as though to reassure herself it was still stylish. That hadn't been a fair comment and now Bon-bon was seething. Psnoo would pay big time.
"Whatever you're telling Morty-bear-..." Bon-bon refused to stop the pet name- "you can tell me."
Psnoo yawned," I don't think you'd much like this message."
"Morton is asleep and you should know how impossible it is to wake him up. You can tell me or leave."
"If you're sure-..." Psnoo shrugged. "I'd like you to tell him that I tried writing recently and all I could manage was this..."
Psnoo pulled out a folded piece of paper and proffered it to Bon-bon. Without revealing what she held behind her back, Bon-bon glanced at it suspiciously before taking it in a luck luster grip.
"Also, if you wouldn't mind giving him this, I'd appreciate it." Psnoo produced a white, weighted trash bag and placed it in Bon-bon's arm. "He'll know what to do with them."
Psnoo left satisfied, knowing that Bon-bon's suspicions would make her look at the items. She didn't really have a problem letting Bon-bon play messenger girl; it was far too early for Mort (or herself for that matter) to be awake. Bon-bon's reaction alone would be enough for now.
Bon-bon brought the effects over to the campfire and contemplated tossing them in. Tricksy Psnoo, wanting Morty-bear. Bon-bon wasn't sure it was possible for Johnnies, even effeminate ones, to be Angels to other Johnnies. If it was, however, Bon-bon would push for Morty-bear and no other. Besides, who really knew? It wasn't in the Terms of Service...
Instead, she decided that Mort probably would not appreciate her destroying his mail. And if it was info on beating Inaga? Bon-bon decided she needed a peak.
Carefully unfolding the paper so as to leave little evidence, she was able to get a glimpse at the writing inside. In 5 neat columns across the page was the line 'Shooter.' Somewhere, about half way down the page, the cryptic message changed a bit. Shooter. Shoother. Shoot Her.
Bon-bon screamed, dropping the paper and whiffle ball bat that she'd planned on using as a defense and ran into the shelter. Psnoo laughed. That'd teach him... her... it... whatever to mess with her Morty-bear!
Inaga- Afternoon
--- Axel was parked in front of the sparkling ocean in a meditative trance. Or that's what his team was thinking as they watched their Fish Boy watching the light play off the surf. Ichabod had passed out in the sand, having recently seen a snake far too close for comfort, Donnie was tanning and Sam was playing with his hat. Spencer...
Axel never noticed when Spencer dropped down beside him. Spencer thought he'd recognized the look before, but wasn't sure he was right. At least until Axel began murmuring under his breath.
"Hello. I know I haven't listened in awhile, I'm sorry for that. It's been... crazy. I'm here now though, if you'll still talk..."
Spencer suppressed a grin and glanced back to see if anybody was looking. The diminished Inaga tribe didn't notice Axel's oddity. So Spencer shrugged and leaned in close to Axel.
"Axel... Hey, Axel! You're lookin' a little anemic! How's about you have some food?"
"I can't. We only have rice."
"That's not food. Why don't you catch some of us? Your other friends don't look too much worse for wear."
"Because it's wrong."
"But we're tasty."
"Tasty...?"
"Mhmm."
"But... what about the rest of you? Not all you could possibly want to be eaten."
Spencer tried a different, higher pitched voice, "You can eat me!"
And another, "And me!"
Axel was beginning to look mightily confused, "You all want to be eaten?"
"Sure!"
"But why now?"
"Why not?"
It was about this time the Donnie sauntered over and punched Spencer on the arm. A warning glance accompanied it, at which Spencer smirked. Axel still hadn't moved and in terms of mental stability, it probably wasn't a good sign. Spencer sighed.
"Well fine, if you're going to be a brat about it, don't eat us. We don't need you." Spencer got up and sat beside Donnie who was sitting serenely in his old spot. Donnie didn't acknowledge Spencer, letting him make the first move.
"What was wrong with having a bit of fun?"
"You don't think that it could have been a little mean spirited?"
"No."
"Then consider me your resident conscience and do as I say."
"You just don't want me to have fun."
"Whatever you say, Spence."
"You know I'm right."
"I know you're right."
"Axel told you how to get on my nerves, did he?"
"He did."
"You're all evil."
"Yes, we are evil."
Hahaga- Afternoon
--- Mort had woken up late as usual. It had taken too much effort that his team mates simply didn't want to muster to wake him up, so they'd let him be. None of the tribe could make heads or tails of Psnoo's cryptic message, though Sands and Duke (having been in enough scrapes with Mort) could hazard a few educated guesses. When Mort had finally woken up, it was Bon-bon who shoved the items in front of his face.
"What are these?" she hissed.
"Wha-?" Mort grunted.
"What. Are. These."
"Uh... well. It looks like a trash bag," Mort squinted, unable to see without his glasses. Having just woken up couldn't have helped either.
"I know that! What do you think is inside it!"
Mort tried for a snappy comeback and only managed to gape stupidly. What was going on? Why was Bon-bon being... forceful? "I... I can't say."
"Look at it! Look at it!"
A piece of paper was pushed into Mort's hands. Knowing he couldn't possibly face this half blind, he took out his glasses to try and makes sense of it. It looked rather like a joke prop from The Shining if Mort wanted to be honest. The Shooter's scrolled all the way down the page, morphing into the climactic 'Shoot her.' Mort didn't know where it had come from and didn't want to know. Everyone agreed that Shooter was bad; Mort wanted to believe them.
"Well?"
"I'm not familiar with it," Mort replied guardedly. "Is there a reason you're waving it at me?"
"Psnoo," she spat, "decided to drop by this morning. She said that this is all she could come up with after a night of writing."
"Psnoo? Why would-..." Mort foundered. Psnoo wanted him to give in to Shooter? Could it be that... she was jealous? He had no clue what happened when Shooter was around, but even he couldn't imagine it'd turn out well. He didn't have a chance to question it further as the trash bag was next to be kicked forward.
"Maybe this will answer your questions."
"Bon-bon, I don't know what this is about, okay?"
"Go ahead. Take a look," Bon-bon was being awful subdued. Mort didn't want to seem overly joyous about the turn of events, but if Bon-bon no longer pined for him, Mort could imagine he'd be an overall happier person. So he opened the bag and pulled out a hat. Not just any hat, of course, but the hat. Shooter's hat. Mort's breath caught in his throat. Psnoo was serious about this.
The bag wasn't totally empty yet, either. A small shake sent a little corn husk screwdriver tumbling into his lap. A note was attached:
I'm neutral, but call it a gift. You know what to do. DB
Who wasn't a part of this conspiracy? Honestly, it was as though they all wanted to see Hahaga eliminated with screwdrivers to the head. They were insane, there was no other explanation. Mort couldn't willingly oblige—he wasn't sure he could make Shooter appear at will anyway—and he simply couldn't do that to the rest of the team. Duke's trip had been more than enough for one week.
"Bon-bon... I don't know what to say. Don't worry about it. You know Psnoo," he shrugged sheepishly, hoping to put this ugly thing behind him. Bon-bon sneered before stalking back outside. Mort sighed and flipped the hat over. He didn't think being unloved by Bon-bon would really be a bad thing, but he hadn't expected the guilt.
"Well done, mate," a voice murmured. Mort jumped, noticing Jack for the first time.
"Where'd you come from?"
"I was always here. I'd jes like t'congratulate ye on yer tactfulness. There's no shame in evasion. 'S not like ye can argue with 'em when they're riled up, anyway."
"Uh... yeah," Mort nodded weakly. What is just him, or was everybody going insane? He could say for sure, but the possibility of being hypocritical crossed his mind.
Inaga- Night
--- Sam's head was pillowed on his hands as he watched the stars on high. There was no singing to partake in tonight, so he made his own entertainment. He'd see a shooting star every once in awhile and sometimes, the occasional plane. He thought he could see the The Southern Crown constellation, among other things, and it wasn't long before Sam turned it into a game. He would trace the constellations or the paths of the stars until he grew bored with one, and moved onto another. His most recent find was bright green and moving very quickly. Towards them.
"Oh no," Sam murmured. Not good.
"Hey, Sam, you okay?" Axel asked. He had recently recovered from his encounter with the suicidal fish. He still wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but Axel really wouldn't question it. After all, he really only had experience with Alaskan halibut, so maybe fish farther south just had different tendencies. It was over at any rate, and Axel could relax while Spence was still relatively low key.
"Do you see that?" Sam asked. Axel's eyes narrowed in confusion. Sam wasn't normally terribly obscure, so Axel decided to take a look from the other man's vantage point. Axel now saw it, and wasn't at all happy.
"Oh."
"Not good?"
"Not good."
The green light approached, slowing down as it got closer. Before long, it was right over head where even Donnie, Ichabod and Spencer could see it. The green light shimmered, and began to expand to form a rectangular opening. A black silhouette was centered in the light looking inhuman and scary.
"Oh lordy..." Donnie whispered.
"Roseblood?" Spencer gasped.
"Not quite, Alien. You see... I got upped. I'm ET, your Extraterrestrial Terror," ET grinned.
"E... T...?"
"At your service. Now... Arenas tells me you're being less than perfect."
"Define less than perfect."
"Questioning the game, torturing Axel..."
"If you want to be a spoilsport, then yes, I did do those things."
"Now I'd love to see you back home as much as the next Angel, but unless you'd rather throw the game to come home with me now, I'd rather suggest you be nice. But I'd understand if you'd like to come home early anyway..."
"Anything for my... Angel." The word felt strange in his mouth, but he imagined he could get used to it.
"Keep going, you crazy alien. Work hard, play hard and don't give Arenas much more grief, okay?"
"If I must."
"See you soon, right?"
"Yes..." Spencer trailed off. Axel snickered behind him, remembering how he'd felt when Roo had sailed by the island. He couldn't wait to see Spencer make himself look cool after this.
ET winked before shuffling backwards as the green light diminished again. The ship climbed, and flew away. Spencer hadn't moved.
"Congrats," Sam smiled.
"Yes..."
Donnie laughed, "Shocked?"
"That'd be my guess," Axel grinned.
"An educated one," Ichabod nodded.
Spencer curled up by the fire and stared at it for the rest of the night.
Hahaga- Morning
--- The majority of Hahaga that had wisely stayed out of Bon-bon's way yesterday were the first to wake up today. Sands and Fred kept their distance while Duke would take an occasional sip out of an unmarked bottle and Edward tried to master the use of the wooden utensils. It was a fairly quiet morning as far as they went.
"Good mornin'," Mort smiled pleasantly as he joined the loose circle. Sands glanced at Mort, knowing something was wrong.
"Hi," Fred replied, not looking up. Food was food, and it was starting to become hard to get enthusiastic about it. Duke grunted, engrossed with his typewriter. Edward offered a smile, ever the friendly type. Sands remained suspicious.
"You okay, pilgrim? You look like you seen a ghost."
"Well, I'd feel better if we have a talk," Sands inclined his head, having just pinpointed the source of his unease.
"Iffin ye'd like," Mort shrugged. Sands got up and pointed the way into the bush. Mort didn't argue. It was 50 yards in that Sands decided to talk.
"All right, Shooter, I see you took the note to heart. Listen, I don't know what Psnoo had in mind, but I'd really like to see that you don't kill any of us, savvy? Not even Bon-bon."
"Why would Ah kill that purdy little thing?" Shooter looked affronted.
"You don't...?" Sands immediately put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, "Never mind. I don't want to know. Just... don't get trigger happy. Or whatever the equivalent is in handyman terms. Otherwise, I will be forced to take drastic measures: measures you definitely won't like."
"Yer threatenin' me?"
"You could say that," Sands cocked an eyebrow.
"Ah don't appreciate it when people threaten me."
"Well, likewise, Mr. Shooter. So be careful what you take out of that pocket, savvy? Unless I find your attempt to make dinner some night a little too good."
Sands promptly turned and walked away. After an encounter like that, Shooter couldn't help but follow, wondering whether it was worth the trouble to disobey Sands if it meant losing a little more of Bon-bon. At this moment, Bon-bon's love for Mort was tentative at best; Shooter didn't want to push it.
When he broke the trees, Bon-bon was already at the fire eating breakfast. Shooter paused, wondering what the Mort-like thing to do would be. Bon-bon seemed to dislike Shooter, but if he could pretend to be Mort and rectify the situation... maybe he'd have a chance. So he sat across from her and tried to ignore her. Tried.
"Did Sands just ream you?" Fred asked quietly. Shooter started and very nearly fell off his log. He really had to stop watching Bon-bon so intently; it'd cut down on incidents like these. Shooter affected a John Wayne-esque squint before turning to Fred.
"Wha's it tuh you?"
"Because Sands is not being sportsmanlike. If he's causing individual problems, maybe it's time he gets voted out, you know?"
"Are ye suggestin' what Ah think yer suggestin'?"
"Only if you drop that accent. It doesn't do you justice," Fred cocked his head.
"'S just the way Ah talk, pilgrim, Ah ain't talked any othuh way."
"Whatever, but think about it, okay? Okay? Mort?"
"Wha-?" Shooter had been trying to sneak glances at Bon-bon while trying to keep up the conversation. The last time he'd glanced away, Bon-bon had found time to finish breakfast and sneak off. Fred had caught him by surprise (again) and now Shooter was at a total loss.
"I can see you're busy. Another time then," Fred's gaze became quizzical as he returned to his own food still in the process of being eaten. Shooter sighed, wondering if Mort really was this popular in real life or if it was something in the water.
Inaga- Morning
--- Spencer was still huddled in the same position as the night before. For all appearances, he seemed to be taking the shock of having an Angel a little harshly. Ichabod decided to investigate.
"Spencer! You've been moping all morning, what's wrong?"
Spencer's face became a myriad of different expressions, anger, confusion, sheepishness and submissiveness among them. He bit his lip and whispered, "I'm being good."
"What?" Ichabod replied more out of reflex than a lack of hearing.
"I'm being good," Spencer gritted his teeth.
"Uh... I don't think ET really meant for you to be... like... this..." Ichabod, to his credit, did not laugh. He probably had more reason than anyone, but it wasn't in his nature. Besides, a moping Spencer meant low morale and a worse performance at challenges than normal. And Inaga needed all the help they could get.
"But she said not to cause trouble."
"Spencer... she meant don't be evil. Lying here like some dead dog is not what she had in mind."
"But... what can I do then?"
"You don't know what it means to be good?"
"Alien," he muttered.
"You have no morals or a conscience because you're an alien and haven't learned them."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
"We got more mail. And it sounds like a perfectly annoying challenge," Donnie announced, appearing from the row of trees. Ichabod looked up as Spencer pulled tighter into his protective ball.
"What's wrong with him?" Donnie murmured.
"Last night," Ichabod shrugged.
"I see. Well, take a look at this, see what you think," Donnie offered the day's clue.
The goal of any Survivor
To escape the island like MacGyver
Use what you own
True artistic genus must be shown
Attract attention to your site
And above your camp, a prize in flight
"How very... strange," Ichabod frowned in thought.
"No kidding. So uh... draw attention to our site? Camp?"
"I think so. How are we going to do that?"
"You're the scientist, got any ideas?"
"Well... one of the most easily visible things to see in the day time is black smoke."
"And how do you propose we get this black smoke?"
"Well, we take our-..."
Hahaga- Afternoon
--- "-... meat or something that just doesn't burn cleanly and dump it in the fire. Build it up nice and high and hopefully uh... someone will see it," Sands shrugged.
"You're proposing we throw our meat into a one time fire to win a reward challenge," Fred replied flatly.
"Not the rum! Don't burn the rum!" Jack cried.
"What rum?" Fred turned.
"Ye burned it already!? How could ye, ye scurvy dogs!?" Jack wailed.
"You drank all mine, you pig," Duke grumbled. Sands prodded him in the side with a 'Watch it' stare.
"Maybe not meat, but definitely black smoke. Lots of action. Possibility of winning," the agent nodded.
"What else is there?" Fred asked.
"I don't rightly know. You're the one who nixed my other idea. Besides, maybe it's better to sacrifice the last reward for this one."
"No way! We've gotta' make that last! Do you know how much rice we've had over these past 14 days?" Fred all but shrieked.
"If you hadn't noticed, I've had just as much as you and you don't hear me complaining," Sands eyes narrowed.
"Well aren't you special?" Fred sneered.
Sands rolled his eyes, "You know what? You organize this dance number. I'm... tired... of arguing with you. If I hadn't been de-armed, there would have been some issues long before this, so please don't think I'm trying to show restraint. So... I'm not going to fight anymore. Go ahead, Fred, boss us around. I'm not going to stop you. I doubt I'll take kindly to most of your commands, but by all means try to organize us into a formidable fighting force."
Fred gaped, "You're giving up?"
"I never said that. I just refuse to take your carp any longer. So spare me your tears. Tell us what to do if your way is better than ours."
"Uh... well... We need color. Lots of color. What did everyone bring to this place anyway?"
"Scissor sharpeners," Edward whispered shyly.
"A magic pocket," Shooter replied, trying to hide his southern accent. It didn't quite work, but he was getting better.
"Literature," Bon-bon added.
"My case," Duke arched a brow.
"Me pistol with one shot," Jack announced proudly.
"I had guns but they got taken so that would leave me with shoulder holsters and a gun belt," Sands twitched.
"Okay. Uh... Mort, can you get paint?"
"If'n I had to," Shooter nodded. Bon-bon glanced at him, wondering just what kind of a trick he was pulling and decided it was better if she didn't know. She and Mort definitely needed some 'alone time.'
"Well, I guess we should start, right?"
"Eh," Hahaga shrugged.
"Right?" Fred asked again, shoulders slumping.
Inaga- Afternoon
--- "Right," Ichabod, Axel, and Sam grinned. Spencer was trying to get over his phobia of being evil and had little to say, but the rest of Inaga was psyched. They would sacrifice their fish for the blackest fire they could make. They weren't too worried about a meat shortage, they could always catch more. They wanted a reward.
"We've got to get their attention some other way too. Something moving otherwise it just might look like some kind of brush fire," Donnie mused.
"What about our flag? Take it out of the ground and run around with it?" Ichabod replied.
"Yeah, why not? Orange is a good color. Maybe some of our brighter clothing too. Sam, you want to take care of the movement?"
"Okay," Sam nodded.
"Axel, you may as well help Sam, I know how you feel about fish-..."
"No, I'll help where I'm needed," Axel shook his head.
"Just the same, Sam might need help. Ichabod's good in this field. If you can, see if you can get Spencer to help you too. It shouldn't take much to get this fire big."
"Alright," Axel smiled.
"Hop to it!"
Official Survivor Chopper- Afternoon
--- The helicopter swept in low over Easter Island. The challenge had been to get the tribes to stand out and the one who attracted attention the best would win the reward. To help judge the best tribe was a guest trained in the art of rescuing people caught in the middle of the ocean. The first tribe was Hahaga on the north side of the island.
"Alright, I don't see anything immediate jumping out at me," he kept up a running commentary. "I see some movement, but nothing extraordinary. There seems to be some light though; I see a fire, but it burns too clean to really be effective. There's no smoke. I think there's light being reflected off some sunglasses or something metal, but I can't be sure. It's more blinding than helpful but I can tell they're there now. There's no way I wouldn't have known to look over there if I hadn't been told to. Over all, not that effective. Hahaga gets an... a C. We're going to see Inaga next, and hope they've got something better."
The copter moved west lazily, not really in any hurry. Suspense was far more fun than quick relief anyway. The southwestern sector of the island was Inaga camp, and it seemed to be in great distress.
"Oh wow... great big black column of smoke. If it's Inaga, kudos to them. It got my attention and it makes me want to go fast in case someone's injured or there was a crash of some sort. All right, we're coming around now, and I see two people running up and down the beach with a flag. The flag doesn't really show up against the sand that well, but the three other people waving clothing do more than make up for it. Yes, this is definitely eye catching, I can see them from far away, I could go find them if I had to without coordinates. Inaga wins immunity big time. We're jettisoning the reward as I speak. Congrats, Inaga, you earned it."
Inaga- Afternoon
--- "Is he flying away? He's flying away, isn't he?" Ichabod murmured, visibly slumping. Inaga seemed to share this sentiment, not liking that their efforts and fish had been wasted. Inaga had liked working together sure enough, despite Spencer's moodiness, but there was still an undertone of depression. Inaga sure hoped Hahaga had some impressive display; they wouldn't have to feel so bad then.
Axel sat down hard in the sand, trying to get over his disappointment. It was going to be another long 3 days, he could tell. Maybe Spencer was right.
"Hey! Hey, guys, look! The chopper's coming around again! It's coming straight for us!" Donnie yelled. Axel shaded his eyes, trying to see if Donnie had seen something he hadn't. He couldn't get his hopes up, but if Donnie wasn't lying...
"General Brasco, you're being optimistic again," Spencer grumbled.
"No, really, look!" Donnie pointed into the sun.
There it was. The silver helicopter was indeed wheeling about in a slow arc. It was coming in closer, much like last night's UFO. A door was kicked open and a box shoved out. Before it could plummet into the sand, a parachute whipped open, slowing its descent. On it was the still wet Suvivor logo in Inaga colors.
The team began to tear at the box, unable to wait for the copter to leave. Inside, was a set of water jugs, some bowls, silverware, and fresh fruit. Lots of fresh fruit.
General Brasco and Commander Armacost were seen sharing a brotherly hug while Sam, Ichy and Axel were positively giddy in their own rights. Celebration time and gosh darn it, Spencer was going to sing!
Hahaga- Afternoon
--- "Well that was anticlimactic," Fred murmured as the chopper flew away. Sands bit down a sharp retort and took several deep breaths. He'd wanted to win, but teaching Fred a lesson had been the ulterior motive. His favorite excuse, 'I don't lose, I just chose not to win' wouldn't help him this time.
"I want my sunglasses back," Duke glared at Fred who returned them without a protest.
"We... um... tried," Fred shrugged.
"'N we didn't burn th'rum!" Jack nodded.
"And that just makes it all right then, doesn't it?" Sands rolled his eyes, unable to stay quiet. Fred didn't notice and nobody was really in a position to reprimand him, Shooter being taken with Bon-bon, Duke with his case and Jack with the empty bottle of rum from several days before.
"I guess we might as well just treat this like any other day," Fred frowned and sighed. Total reign of the challenge probably hadn't been a good thing. He couldn't blame Sands for being annoyed but... he really got under the skin. Fred shook his head, took his shirt off and went for a swim. He refused to think on the subject again until someone forced him to.
Inaga- Night
--- It was one of the few night that Inaga's campfire was a good place to be. There was good food, good company... why, one could almost mistake it for The Olive Garden al aire. Then again, The Olive Garden staff never played these songs for anyone's birthday.
"99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer! Take one down and pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall!"
The crickets added nice harmony against the ocean and the tenor chorus gathered in a circle. Again, there was one spoilsport who refused to participate, pleading an ignorance of the songs. Donnie punched him after every chorus as a motivating factor. Spencer sighed. Did they always have to celebrate everything? The 4 men had gotten down to 46 bottles by the time Spencer began to join in (albeit very reluctantly). Donnie refused to make a big deal of it, in case he spooked Spencer inadvertently. That just wouldn't do.
"2 bottles of beer on the wall, 2 bottles of beer! Take one down and pass it around, 1 bottle of beer on the wall! 1 bottle of beer on the wall, 1 bottle of beer! Take it down and pass it around, no more bottles of beer on the wall!"
There was cheering and clapping and general congratulations. Spencer seemed bolstered by the success of this strange song and mustered the courage to start a new sing along.
"This one... is very, very popular on my home planet. I don't know it's origins, maybe you do. It's not that hard so you can probably pick up on it. It's fairly straight forward." Spencer cleared his throat, and began the song...
"A weembuwuh, a weembuwuh, a weebuwuh, a weebuhwuh... Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee aweeeeumbumbuwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!"
Donnie's brows narrowed; he recognized the song... but from where? Sam's eyes, in contrast, were wide as dinner plates. What was this mad man doing?
"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps toniiiiiiiiiiiiight. In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiight..."
Donnie laughed. Showing no fear, he too joined in. After all, it'd look down right hypocritical if he didn't practice what he preached. It wasn't as though it were a chore anyway and soon, the night was filled with five strong voices singing any contemporary, folk or rock songs that came to mind. It was a much needed pick-me-up from the rigors of island survival and for once, everybody was at ease.
Hahaga- Morning
--- Shooter woke up again. He had no idea where his worse half had wandered off to and could guess that a prolonged absence wouldn't be a good thing. If people (sans Sands) began to suspect who he was... what would Psnoo say? He would be back on the strict regimen of Doritos and Mountain Dew, that much he was sure of.
Of course, Shooter still hadn't been informed of Psnoo's care package from the day before and nobody was very likely to tell him unless he found out on his own. This left Shooter somewhat perturbed, and unsure of how he could attain his goal without alerting Bon-bon to his identity. Mort wasn't very likely to suddenly start liking Bon-bon, he wasn't of that ilk. No... Mort would be best to smooth this situation over. But where was he?
Sands was up early with Jack again. Sands wouldn't talk about tribal council and Jack didn't seem inclined to talk. Lazy mornings just weren't all that engaging. Shooter didn't immediately speak, wondering what kind of mood Sands would be in. A fuss this early just wasn't all that appealing.
"Morning, sugarbutt. You're up early," Sands didn't look up. There could only be one reason 'Mort' would be awake now. His threat still stood, but he'd live and let be for the moment. Shooter seemed content going after Bon-bon for the time being anyway. That was pretty harmless.
"Sugarbutt?"
"Sure," he murmured.
"Is that like that 'carp' thing?"
"Exactly."
"Oh."
Shooter glanced at the ground. Well... that had been interesting hadn't it?
Shooter
--- "Ah just don't know what Ah'm doin' wrong. Bon-bon don't love me, all the wrong people are tryin' t'conspire with me... Why's the uppity Inspector tryin' to work with me? 'N why's Sands putting me down? Ah just don't get it."
Sands
--- "Mort better resurface soon. That accent's seriously grating one my nerves."
Jack
--- "I think I overcooked th'rice. 'S a little sticky. Where's Mr. Gibbs when you need him?"
Inaga- Midmorning
--- "I hope you guys are good shots. This is going to be an interesting challenge," Axel called, announcing his presence to the gathered Inaga.
Elimination
Shoot your rivals plates down with
A bow an arrow.
"Good, subtlety just wasn't their strong point," Spencer rolled his eyes.
"You're one to talk," Donnie smirked.
"I am, General Brasco. Someone had to say it, why not me?" Spencer grinned. One could barely recognize the malicious, water-fearing alien from 15 days before.
"Good point."
"Hey, we can practice!" Sam cried, holding up the bow and 2 different arrows.
"That's it? Hm... It's going to be a bit hard to get every one to practice, but we can do it. Who wants to go first?" Donnie scratched his chin in thought.
"Perhaps I'd better. I should think we'd triumph if the less physical among us practiced a bit longer," Ichabod replied.
Sam shrugged, "Then I probably should, too."
"We could do it like a game of Knockout," Axel offered. "If the person behind you gets a bulls eye before you, you're out. You know the game? We can't really have two people shoot at once, but this way will make it more concentration based which the real challenge will be. Make it fun and not dull."
"Fish boy, your genius is showing," Spencer spoke up. Axel blushed and grinned.
"That's Inaga spirit if there ever was," Donnie announced proudly.
Donnie
--- "I bet we have a shot. I really do. Perhaps even more so than the last challenge and that one was looking good. I hope so."
Spencer
--- "This being nice business is evil, but... I dunno. I think they're changing me. I should be angry... but I'm not."
Inaga- Aftenoon
--- Several rousing matches later, Ichabod, Sam, Axel, Donnie and Spencer were ready for the challenge. It didn't matter that they'd known next to nothing about archery beforehand, Axel's game had done the trick. As a team, they were now able to hit a bulls eye just about every other time. Beat that Hahaga!
There were the orange and green mats in the clearing as usual, and there was Hahaga, waiting patiently. In the forest, Inaga could see brightly colored plates, almost 20 per team hung in different locations from the trees. There were bows and arrows in team colors by each mat.
"Welcome Inaga, congratulations on your reward challenge. This event, as you could guess from your clues, is fairly straight forward. Shoot your opponent's plates with your bow and arrows. If you shoot your own off, that's your own problem. Everybody will participate in this challenge, only one shooter from each team at a time. You must shoot from behind the line or it doesn't count. Survivors, are you ready?"
If nothing else could be said about the host, is that he didn't (usually) fool around. Inaga's first shot, Axel was paired with Hahaga's first, Bon-bon.
"Survivors, nock your arrows. Pull. Release!"
Bon-bon's arrow smacked him in the face as the string twanged harshly. Axel's soared neatly into the trees and snapped a green dish in two.
"Inaga, well done! Inaga's broken a plate. Next shooters, line yourselves up!"
"I don't get a second chance?" Bon-bon cried.
"Nope, one chance per turn."
"You insufferable-...!"
Shooter pulled her back into the group quietly with a firm arm on her shoulder.
"Nock! Pull! Release!"
Fred's and Spencer's arrows flew into the trees, both arrows snagging a different green plate.
"Hahaga, you shot your own plate!"
Fred swore under his breath and returned to Hahaga. Spencer returned to high fives and congrats.
"Nock! Pull! Release!"
An orange plate shattered.
"Nock! Pull! Release!"
A green and and orange met their fate.
"Nock! Pull! Release!"
Another green bit the dust.
It was clear who was dominating the challenge. Either Hahaga really could not master the bows, or they just hadn't practiced. Judging by the sour looks, it was more than likely the latter. Soon, there were 7 orange plates left and one single green plate.
"Nock!"
Ichabod and Shooter fitted their arrows.
"Pull!"
Ichabod and Shooter drew their elbows back.
"Release!"
There was a loud crack. Two plates, one green and one orange, fell to the forest floor simultaneously.
"Inaga wins immunity!"
