Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.
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[=]
"Do you think it's real, Piggy?"
Piggy glances at Ralph from the driver's seat. They are heading out to the lakefront along the outskirts of The Island to discuss things. In his opinion, he and Ralph are completely different entities in the whole 'saving-The-Island' team; Jack, Simon, and Sam seem to revolve around different agendas and mindsets but he and Ralph are completely new to all this. They haven't been directly affected by anything yet. He shrugs noncommittally as he keeps his hands on the steering wheel.
As an outsider looking in, Piggy does not appear to be fat. In fact, he appears quite slender in the driver's seat of the tiny car he drives. But when he comes out, one would be quite surprised to see the rotund figure with the keys in his hand. It defies the laws of physics to fit that mass in that tiny car, but Piggy does not follow the laws of physics.
"I don't know," he says, as Ralph stares out the window. "Simon seems to be the kind of person who wouldn't make up those kinds of crazy stories, but if you think about it rationally, it just is so…unreal."
"You are the brains between us," Ralph agrees. "But I want to believe it. I think it would be really cool to have some guy trying to destroy The Island but we're here to save it!"
"If that's the case, that isn't a good thing at all," Piggy admonishes severely. "Even if you're basing it all on movies that you watch, you've got to keep in mind that there's a lot of danger involved and remember, you're the only one who can't die by normal means."
"I guess." Ralph rests his chin on his palm, his elbow leaning against the car door although his mother taught him never to lean on car doors because he might fall out. "I wonder how we're supposed to do it, though? We can't just take a gun and shoot the guy's brains out, I don't think."
"Maybe it is that simple," Piggy says. "If he can't heal himself, I don't see why he couldn't just die just because he has powers like us. But the real question really is how. We're just a bunch of kids, Ralph. We can't storm a building and expect it to fall like Legos."
Ralph grunts because he doesn't want to hear Piggy's logic just yet. He wants to continue having fantastic daydreams where he swoops in and saves the day. He's a bit too old to be thinking up superhero fantasies, but they're nice to have from time to time. He spots a bit of movement in the sideview mirror and squints to see what it is.
"Piggy," Ralph says.
"Pygmalion," Piggy auto-corrects.
"Look out the rearview mirror." Ralph frowns. "What are those things in the sky?"
Piggy glances and he's just in time to see the silver flying disk flash before he jerks the car to the right to avoid a rush of electricity shot where the sideview mirror had been just seconds before. He glances and realizes that there is no one on the road – not unusual as not many people go to the lake front on a Wednesday afternoon. Ralph shouts and grips at the ceiling.
"What are those things!" he yells. Piggy looks back and swerves again when another disk shoots lightning at them. Rolling down the window, Ralph takes a chance and sticks his head out. A blue bolt of lightning hits him square between the eyes and he yelps and slips back into the car, grabbing at his face.
"Are you alright?" Piggy asks, keeping half his attention on the rearview mirror. Ralph gasps angrily, rubbing the now cooling spot where he was burned. The skin is healing on itself but the moment of pain stings still. "How many of them are there?"
"Hold on," Ralph growls, and sticks his head out the window again. The disks are continuing to follow them, flying at a low altitude to keep up with them. He sees six before he has to duck down from another bolt. "Six," he calls, keeping his hands tight on the roof of the car.
Piggy swings the car to the side again, Ralph holding on and feeling his stomach lurch. "We're not going to be able to outrun them!" the blonde shouts.
"What do you propose we do then?" Piggy yells back. Ralph only spares a second for thought.
"Wrap an arm around me," he commands. "And let me on the roof."
On the road to the lakefront, a blue car speeds by with a boy standing on the roof, fleshy belts wrapped around his waist with the origin stemming back from inside the car. Carefully balanced, Ralph grins. "Come at me, you freaks!" he yells.
The disks keep their distance and begin to shoot sparks at them. A spark misses Ralph's arm and hits the flesh rope around his waist. Piggy's hand, which is right against Ralph's hip, tenses. "Fuck!" he hears his friend snarl from inside the car.
"Sorry," Ralph says, studying the disks carefully. They don't fly by any sort of predictable formation but they are keeping close to each other. "Slow down the car, Piggy."
The sparked part of Piggy's arm is turning dark red. "You'd better know what you're doing, Ralph!" Piggy hollers, before stepping on the brakes hard. The car suddenly starts to decelerate, the wheels squealing in protest. The disks do not stop as abruptly and Ralph grabs two out of the air and smashes them against each other. The other four fly by, seemingly noticing something amiss. The car is stopped, a couple places singed by the missed lightning bolts, and Ralph takes his chances to throw the ruined disks back to their teammates. With predictable accuracy (he wasn't a baseball player for nothing!), he knocks two out of the sky and they plummet and crash onto the road.
"Shit!" Piggy screams, and quickly shifts the car to reverse as the disks swoop around to charge at the car from the front. Ralph stumbles from the sudden movement and aligns himself. The disks send bolts at the dashboard, cracking it. "Ralph, do something!"
"I got it!" Ralph calls, and runs toward the disks. "Give me some slack!" he adds, and jumps off the roof, hands outstretched. He feels a bolt hit his hand and feels a moment of temporary numbness. Nevertheless, he grits his teeth and his hands smack straight on the top of the disks – and he starts his descent.
The first thing he hears when he hits the concrete road is the metallic sound of destruction; the second is the grating of his teeth and chin against it and feels the sharp pain on his face. The car stops behind him and the momentum he is going at sends him flying into the front bumper of the car. How many bones he has broken, he has no idea.
"Oh my God!" he hears Piggy say, and through fuzzy, bloodied sight, he sees the unrelenting ground. He hears the car door slam and a moment later, Piggy turns him over. "Fuck," the boy says, swearing for the second time. "You look horrendous."
"Yeah, I'll be alright," Ralph says, but it comes out lispy because he's knocked out his front teeth. He tries to sit, but it's too painful; instead, he waits until he feels the familiar sensation of bones reconnecting and muscles sewing themselves up – his eyes start to focus again as the blackness erases itself and he feels teeth pop out of his gums again. Yuck; he never thought he'd be teething again.
When he sits up, Piggy is sitting on the ground, next to his now wreck of a car. He is rubbing his arm, which has the ugly red welt from the bolt. He is still tall and lanky from driving and Ralph stares at him. "You should really stay like that, you know," he says, cracking his neck. Besides the blood smeared on the ground, there is no trace of the fall. He did a number on Piggy's bumper. "You look good thin."
"Yeah, if it didn't make me at least seven foot tall," Piggy grumbles, shrinking and expanding until he is his usual fat self. "That didn't take care of the burn at all," he mutters, glowering at the sore.
"Looks like we're not going to be visiting the lake anytime soon," Ralph sighs, before he realizes he is still holding the destroyed disks. "You think Simon will want to take a look at these?"
[=]
Eric thinks the Lord of the Flies has put them both under house arrest, because he isn't able to leave the room. Roger glowers in the corner, looking positively damper. They still get food from a lackey from time to time and they still have access to the bathroom, but otherwise, they have been locked in.
"What are they going to do to us?" Eric asks, feeling uncomfortable in the silence. He watches as some of Roger's muscles spasm from the aftereffects of the tasers. The dark boy grimaces every single time. "Now that Simon's met with that Ralph kid."
"I don't know what they'll do to me," Roger says after a while, lowly. "But they might dispose of you. I don't know what else you could serve for, besides a bargaining chip."
Eric feels a stab of irritation. Now he is like a princess in a castle, impeding everyone. He cannot do anything, yet he knows Sam will do everything he can to save him. He hates inconveniencing people. Roger growls as his arm twitches again. Willing it to stop with pain has only made it worse.
"Wait," Eric says, and he goes into the bathroom and soaks some towels in cold water. Roger watches him carefully through cold, dark eyes as the twin advances anxiously, cold towels in his arms. "It'll help soothe the twitchy parts," he explains, holding out a damp towel. When Roger doesn't resist, Eric lays it experimentally on the young man's arm. "Where else is it bad?"
Roger merely glares at him and gestures curtly at his leg and his side. Eric puts the makeshift cold compresses on each part and after a spur of the moment idea, sits down next to Roger. He knows he is taking a great risk – after all, he hasn't been able to read Roger at all. He hopes he won't be pushed away when all he is trying to do is help.
"You don't have to help me," Roger mutters.
"I want to," Eric maintains. "And anyway, I'll go crazy if I stay to myself." He isn't sure what's making him talk to Roger like this. "I've always been with Sam, so it's weird that I'm not with someone else. It's sort of lonely without him." Anyway, Roger can't be that bad of a person; after the exchange failed, he did not hurt Eric for messing with the plan by informing Sam of the Lord's true intentions. It was, really, his fault.
"I'm not your surrogate companion," Roger bites out. His eyes flash on Eric and the twin gasps as he feels a great pressure on his head, as if he is forcing a too-small bike helmet on. "Don't pity me."
"Stop!" Eric manages to say, although as he expected, Roger does not relent. "I'm only trying to be nice. Look where that gets me," he adds sarcastically. The pressure releases and Eric falls forward. "I always like to think people aren't naturally bad, but I'm starting to think you're just awful."
"You can think whatever you like," Roger hisses, grabbing Eric's arm and shaking him forward. "But remember what position you're in." Eric feels the damp towel soak in through his slacks and knows it will happen before it does so he is not surprised when Roger kisses – no, bites - him and the spot where Roger's gripping him burns.
[=]
The second Simon sets foot in his house, the phone rings. "Mom," he calls out, choosing to ignore the sound. "I'm home!" He drops his books and bag at the door and goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Learning is taxing on a teenager's stomach. The phone does not relent and he figures if his mother hasn't picked it up yet, she is probably out. "I'll get it," he says to no one.
Balancing a can of soda on his hand and a packet of chips, he reaches for the phone and takes it off its receiver. "Hello?" he chirps. "Green household." He always laughs internally at the pun his surname invokes. But they do try to be environmentally friendly.
"Hello," a male voice replies, and it's much too deep to be Jack or anyone else Simon knows. "I would like to speak with Simon Green, please."
A thousand things explode in Simon's mind but he does not show it. Setting down his snack, he reaches for a pen and glances at the caller ID, but it has been hidden. "Ah…he is not home at the moment…may I take a message? Your name and number, please."
"I know you can see the future," the voice says. Simon almost drops the pen.
"Who is this?" he demands, trying to stop his voice from shaking.
"I am not part of the radical movement," the man on the other line says, sounding a little tired. "I do not mean any bodily harm to you. However, I have intel that states that you are wanted by the head of the radical movement. I would like to explain more but it is risky doing it over the phone. I am a friend and I wish to give you information on how to stop the radical movement, and with it, the leader, the Lord of the Flies."
With the utterance of the name, the image of the man with the pig's head flashes in Simon's mind. He knows he should be more careful, that he should make sure this isn't a real threat, but he does not think about these things when he says, "Alright, when can we meet?"
[=]
Note: Sorry for the late update, this chapter was giving me some difficulties in starting it. To clarify some things: Ralph is not immortal, but he can only die through age since he can't be physically wounded. His ability allows his body to reject any foreign, dangerous substance and to regrow whatever has been damaged. Piggy's ability allows him to be thin, but since he's rubbery, if he chooses to look thin, he ends up stretching. So if he's fat, he's normal height. Thanks for reading, guys! And the informant is actually based on a character in the book, if you can figure it out.