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 What do you plan on doing in fifteen years?, Fifteen years after SOTF
Posted: Dec 21 2005, 01:59 PM


Callum nodded, almost relieved. His hands still in his pockets, he mumbled almost inaudibly.

"I've been OK," he said, nodding. "Um... you'll have to forgive me, but I have no idea what your name is..."


Huffing in an irritated manner, Mallory dragged her bags along the stairs leading to the hotel entrance. How had she managed to pack so much stuff? Dragging it along behind her, she stumbled up the stairs.

No, it's OK, I didn't need you to come...

Her husband hadn't even offered to come along to the conference- not wishing to be assosciated with it- and so Mallory had to make her own way, bags and all. What was worse was the large bump protuding from her stomach- Mallory was 8 months pregnant.

Sweat dripping down her face and feeling exhausted, she shouldered the door to force it open and stumbled through it. Dropping her suitcase onto the floor, she leant against the wall, desperately trying to regain her posture. She hadn't been as successful as some of her fellow students, although she had a comfortable job as an office worker, she didn't make a vast amount of money. Looking around, she felt quite out of place. She didn't look scruffy, but compared to all the women wearing business suits and so on, she felt almost embarrassed. Her hair was now shoulder length, instead of the waist length it had been, but her overall body appearance hadn't changed much. She had, of course, ditched the whole 'goth' look, but other than that, her face was still pale and deeply contrasted by her black hair.

Sitting on her suitcase, she wiped the sweat off her forehead, hoping that someone would come and help her carry her bags.
Posted: Dec 21 2005, 06:39 PM

Princess of Highland

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It had been fifteen years since the international phenomenon known as Survival of the Fittest had taken place. The brutal and inhumane contest had claimed the lives of many, and drastically changed the lives of all the students who had been forced into participation. Of course, when a 16-year-old Lyndi Thibodeaux had arrived home from that fateful island, she and the other students from Barry Coleson had been the talk of the town. But, as other things happened in the world, they moved on, leaving the Sophomore and Freshman classes of Barry Coleson to get on with their lives the best they knew how.

Unlike many of the students who she had attended school with, Lyndi's first few years back home were good ones. Of course, the attention she had gained from SOTF was a bit overwhelming, but her parents and her brother had stood by her through thick and thin in those times, and for that, Lyndi thanked them. She had gone on with her life, like all the rest, and even went on to college. Needless to say, Lyndi remained involved in cheerleading, even in college, and that was where she got her first taste of "camera life", so to speak, after SOTF.

She had actually graduated from college and earned a degree in Marketing. What Lyndi did not realize then was that instead of making the advertisements, she would soon be in them. At 18 and in her Freshman year of college, Lyndi had been offered a modeling deal by a local agent. If things went well, they would offer her a contract. Apparently, Lyndi's "look" sold well, and her career in modeling skyrocketed. Once again, Lyndi had re-entered the American spotlight. Magazines, swimsuit catelogs, even billboards... Lyndi had done it all.

Now, Lyndi had continued her modeling, and become quite the successful woman. This fall, her first in a line of perfumes was to be released, entitled "Endeavor". In retrospect, she had done pretty well for herself. The one thing Lyndi had never quite regained after Survival of the Fittest was her social life. Now nearing her 31st birthday, Lyndi Thibodeaux was still single, with no prospect in sight. The world had been kind to them in their first moments out of SOTF, but they had lost interest quickly. The modeling industry, however, had been almost cruel about the entire ordeal, and many of the models looked down on Lyndi as if she were tainted.

Despite all that had gone on in the years that had elapsed, she had never forgotten about that place or the people in it. Now, as the black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the hotel where the conference was to be held, Lyndi could not help but smile. All at once, though, the scenario made her nervous. She had not seen most of these people in fifteen years, and she certainly had made no attempt at keeping in touch with many of them. Part of her wondered how they were doing now, but the other part did not care to see any of them again. After all, as her mother told her after her return to Barry Coleson, seeing them would "just remind her".

As the limo door opened and she took in her first view of the large and highly-reputed hotel, she smiled a bit. Perhaps this would not be so bad after all. Her driver had appeared with her bags, prepared to follow her in with them. Lyndi stepped out of the limo, adjusting her almost casual attire, consisting of a red tie-back Renaissance style shirt and a pair of khakis. She stood there a moment, examining the prestine hotel. Finally, she motioned to her companion to follow her into the hotel with her bags. The driver courteously opened the door and Lyndi entered, taking the room in slowly.

It was crowded already, filled to the brim with faces she had not seen in ages. Casting a glance to a dark haired woman sitting on her suitcase, Lyndi smiled slightly, but kept walking. She did not recognize the woman who sat there. For that matter, she did not recognize 95% of the former students who stood in the hotel lobby. Regardless, she walked with her head held high. Finally, she approached the counter and smiled faintly at the clerk who sat behind it. Fiddling with a strand of her long mocha-colored hair, which had not changed much since high school, though she had long since ditched the ponytail and ribbon combo, Lyndi addressed him casually.

"I'm here to check in... for the, you know, SOTF conference."

"Name, please?"

"...Thibodeaux. Lyndi Thibodeaux."

The woman drummed quietly on her computer keyboard a moment before finally turning and handing Lyndi a set of keys. She smiled knowingly as Lyndi looked about the room once again, almost flustered by all the unrecognizable faces she saw. Without hesitation, she took the keys from the woman behind the desk, looking down at the room number written on the tag. 751... Turning toward her limo driver, who stood attentively, awaiting his next instructions, she ushered him toward the door, smiling halfheartedly.

"I'll take them from here on out. Thank you."

The man nodded and tipped his hat before escorting himself out the door and eventually moving the limousine that had been blocking the wrap-around entrance to the front of the hotel. Casting a wary glance toward the group of people that had congregated, she avoided attracting any attention to herself. Lord knows she had enough of that every day as it stood now. Besides that, those people, they were not "her" people, the people she had come to this conference to see in the first place. Placing a hand on her suitcase, she struggled a moment to pick it up, then quietly headed toward the elevator, hoping to avoid contact with the group in the lobby.

Besides, how embarrassing would that be... I don't remember them. Any of them. Least... I didn't recognize any of the faces that I saw. I'd feel bad if they remembered me and I just stood there staring at them. Then again, what do they expect? It has been fifteen years, after all. We've all changed... a lot.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, signaling for Lyndi to step onto the elevator. Even the elevators in this place were stunning... glass elevators that provided a view of the entire hotel as they moved up. Gazing about the structure as the elevator made its way upward, she got a good glimpse of her surroundings before the elevator once again dinged. The glass doors opened and she found herself on the eighth floor, where all the 700 rooms were located. Dragging her suitcase off the elevator behind her, she stood out in the hallway, trying to get her barrings a bit in this elaborate place.
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 02:48 AM

15-year-old Sex Buddha, bitches! PWNED! <3

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The man walked away from the reception desk, his polished cowboy boots clunking heavily against the floor. His hand reached up and pressed his hat further down over his head, hiding his eyes a bit more. Yes, he was in what could be called stereotypical cowboy attire, but he'd lived in Arizona for a while now, and was used to wearing nothing but said attire. The only thing he didn't have was a horse, really. A horse and some 6-shooters, or a rifle. None of that was his to own, though everything else, he had. I guess.

He scanned the crowd again, wondering if anyone from the River group had survived. He'd seen Drew die...there would be no happy, Hollywood reunion with Drew. No. The endings in movies that had always annoyed him (as in, someone who'd clearly died came back again) now flat out disgusted him. Was it a reminder of what Drew could not do? Or was it just his new, mostly pessimistic attitude towards life in general? Whatever the real cause, the result remained the same: those movies annoyed the shit out of him, and only depressed him for quite some time after viewing. It was one part of SoTF that he'd never come to terms with, and one he would never do so with.

As he took another step towards wherever the hell he wanted to go (as he'd yet to decide...), he got the feeling of someone approaching him from behind. He stopped in his tracks. Why would someone approach him?

Bad idea to wear the cowboy stuff, eh? Shoulda broken out the old clothes. Given these guys a nostalgic shock. He slowly turned, looking at the woman. There were only two things that came to mind from her attire. Lawyer or reporter. I swear to God, I'll---

"Tobs...? Is-- is that you?" Something about being called Tobs made it impossible for him to think. He didn't catch on to the subtle hints she'd given; he didn't see the hope or anything else in her face, he didn't see anything familiar in the way she spoke.

He bristled instantly upong being called Tobs, as if the past had been dug up forceably. It was like someone digging up a coffin you were in, opening it, and gawking at your body while you watched as a spirit. There was nothing you could really do, not at the moment, but you wished desperately for the grave diggers to replace your body in the coffin and refill the hole. Though, it was impossible to refill a hole created by words, not in this short instance.

"Listen, the first time I met with you damned reporters, I told you all my name was Toby. I said you were never to call me 'Tobs,' no matter how well you thought you knew me. So, don't fucking call me Tobs!" He snapped this out, glaring at her under the brim of his cowboy hat. Nothing seemed to click in his mind, at least not yet. The old Tobs still existed in one respect that Takara may recognize: his refusal to keep his language in check when his temper had flared.

"...wait. Reporters aren't allowed in here. That means..." And so, he looked at Takara closer. There was something in her face.. Something...Oh, shit, did I just make the largest mistake of my adult life? He thought this to himself rather quickly, and began to mentally scour his memory. Takara looked so different. She wouldn't look like that, would she? has been 15 years, and it looks like 25 for me. So...that means... His eyes slowly widened in comprehension of his enourmous faux pas, if that's what it was. He turned around fully, facing her directly. He took an unbelieving step towards her, and another.
Absent-mindedly, he thought to himself If I don't get slapped for that, I'm truly amazed.

"...Takara? Takara Asano?" His voice was a croaking whisper, barely eeking out from his mouth. He was so surprised, his voice refused to form.

She...wait, Takara came to this? But...I thought she'd ...scoff at it. I never imagined she'd be the kind to come to ...THIS! He was amazed. Bewildered. And thinking he was hallucinating, just a little bit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another person that seemed to radiate and air of familiarity walk by. The man was older looking than the last time he'd ever seen him, of course, but something was incredibly similar about him.
Oh, and he was the only boy Tobs had met on the Island wearing a hockey shirt. That image stuck with Toby.

"...Sidney? Crosby?" Once more, his voice was nothing more than a croak, barely audible above the ambient background noise of the hotel itself. I'm either dreaming, hallucinating, dead...or this is seriously happening.
Queen Asshat
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 03:16 AM


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Vince rubbed his shoulder lightly as he stared at Clare with a huge smile “Yeah, being a millionaire and signing autographs for ten year olds is very strenuous, then again your work has been the Christmas present I have given every super model girl friend I have had over the past two years…and no I am not still going out with that Czech chick…” Vince said quietly “How about me and you ditch this place…I know of a great place down town, we can get a drink and maybe talk a bit…plus this guy serves awesome pizza.” Vince said the gigantic smile plastered to his face.

Clare. She had been sort of attached to his hip Junior and Senior year, they even went to prom together, Vince however did not take advantage of her then…he was caught up in his own trip and worried about colleges…Clare had become a secondary thing for him. Maybe Hawley and Madelaine had inspired him, but he wanted to rekindle his ties with Clare.
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 03:34 AM

This is the field where soul meets body

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In the cold air outside the hotel, a white van sat idling near the door. It was nothing the Valet's really wanted to see, because they knew the tips would be very scant based on the scrawling letters that covered the side.

Burgess West Mental Health Clinic
-Serving those who cannot serve themselves

Two men stood outside the back of the van, both nervously bouncing on the balls of their feet. They seemed to be waiting for something, or someone. Soon a buzzing sound could be heard, and a muffled commotion could be heard from the back of the van. The two men took several steps back, both pulling small weapons out of their coats. The doors of the van suddenly burst open, and the trademark blond hair and blue eyes could be seen. Cody Jenson stood in the doorway, wrapped tightly in a straightjacket. Two orderlies held on to either shoulder, and the two men flanked them, their guns trained on Cody. He seemed complacent, almost docile, but those who knew him knew that he could shake the veneer off at any moment and go into one of his tangents.

A bubble of spittle formed on his lower lip as they slowly led him into the hotel, and his body seemed to go slack. The orderlies strained to keep him upright, speaking in soothing voices to him as they struggled to drag him towards the receptionist desk. Suddenly, he seemed to come to life, helping himself up off the floor on his own. He stood and looked at the two men who were moving him towards the desk, seemingly seeing them for the first time. He leaned in to one, perhaps to share a secret with his friend, and quickly took a bite out of the mans ear. Suddenly, the two men in the coats sprung to life, jabbing their small weapons into Codys back. He convulsed for several seconds, coming to a stop panting on the floor of the hotel. The missing eared orderlie stood hissing and clutchng the side of his head.

"Get him to his fucking room, and get him stabilized. We will give him some Strychnine or something."

As they continued to drag the now crying Cody, he could be heard mumbling, words that had no meaning to anyone but those that knew him.

"Loretta...I loved her...Those bastards took her out her fucking THROAT!!...I loved her..."
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 04:58 AM


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As soon as Toby began to speak, Takara realized the mistake she had made, but his tone of voice! He could have at least looked to see who the hell he was talking to. His sudden jump to anger caused her to bristle and purse her lips together as her face visibly tensed.

Setting down her suitcase and briefcase, she crossed her arms, waiting for him to turn and face her.

Reporter my ass! Like I'd ever become one of those annoying liars.

When he fully faced her, she raised her right hand level with his check and smacked him. It wasn't his language that made her slap him, rather it was the fact he had snapped, snapped!, at her; after all they had been through.

"Yeah, no reporters allowed as of yet. And why the fuck would I, of all people, become a reporter?" Her expression was one of disgust at the mere thought of her being a reporter. She'd rather be a prostitte than a reporter. "I'm a lawyer. Keep it straight. Hence the briefcase."

As who she was seemed to settle in place, Takara crossed her arms loosely and merely looked at him. He seemed so much older than he really was, but then again, far more had happened to him during SoTF.

"...Takara? Takara Asano?" A sly smile crossed onto the normally cold face, making her seem as if she were in court and had just won the case at hand.

"No, Bob Hope." Her voice was laced through and through with sarcasm, her face void of any expression indicating her mood. "Different, ne? Not to mention a bit of surprise that I'm even here."

She herself was amazed that she was even here. In any other situation, she would have blown it off and would have kept on living, but this was different. This was to be a reunion of the survivors of SoTF, and the only reason she came was in hope of seeing those who had stuck with her throughout the game. She would never really admit it, but they were the closet thing she had to calling a 'family' since her mother ran away and her father committed suicide.

Looking Tobs up and down, she couldn't help but look at the cowboy hat resting upon his head with utter disbelief. It was one thing out west, but here on the East coast? Who the hell wore a cowboy hat? Snatching it from his head, she let a small grin play onto her face. Even through everything that had happened, she still retained a small bit of her impish behavior, but that only showed through her cold and heartless demeanor when she was amidst real close friends. Smirking, she placed the hat upon her own head.

"Nice hat, cowboy." She gave a small wink, adjusting the hat so it hung slightly over one eye.

"...Sidney? Crosby?" At the mere mention of that name, Takara looked about for the man she knew was still around. He was one of the few that she kept in close contact with, even if it was just e-mail. It didn't take long to spot him, and when she did, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd recognize her.

Sidney? He actually came? I'm surprised the coach even let him come to this. Then again... even I showed up to this thing...
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 06:07 AM

Savage Intent.

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Madelaine recognized Callum immediately as someone she, Hawley, and Amanda had all briefly encountered during their time on the island. Questionable was the first impression he had landed on them, seeing that the first thing he did when he encountered them was sock Hawley in the stomach.

That aside, Callum seemed like a harmless, even good-natured kind of person, especially seeing as he greeted Hawley by asking him how he was doing. It was still somewhat odd, this Madelaine thought, seeing as it happened fifteen years ago. It was still kind of him, nonetheless.

"Hello, Callum," she told him kindly, smiling a bit. "Glad to see you're alright after all this time. We haven't properly introduced ourselves yet, have we? I'm Madelaine, and this is my husband Hawley and my friend Amanda."

It was then that Madelaine started wondering just how many more familiar faces she would see during the next few days. Though she had been hopeful to meet her friends again, she didn't think that so many people would actually attend this event. Perhaps some, like her, had been hopeful of meeting old friends again. But to allow memories of the past better left forgotten to resurface was probably really painful for them, and so Madelaine had been doubtful that this many people would appear.

Hopefully this is some kind of omen that Adam will appear, Madelaine thought to herself, trying to feel optimistic on the matter.

Gradually, the hotel began to fill itself with even more familiar figures, many of which Madelaine knew not by name, only by face. It surprised Madelaine somewhat, seeing as how all of them were doing particularly well after all of fifteen years. Most of them seemed to have moved on with their lives, leaving everything that had to do with SOTF behind.

At least, that much was apparent enough. There were some things that couldn't be forgotten completely, and witnessing a world of death, fear, and hopelessness was enough to linger in the mind of a lifetime. Some things were persistant enough to follow you to the grave. Madelaine herself had a such a recollection in mind...

And speaking of which, Madelaine suddenly found her thoughts interrupted by the sound of yet more people entering the hotel. She turned around, wondering if any of them were familiar faces. Madelaine frowned slightly in confusion, as one of them, the one being led by others, seemed to be wearing a straitjacket...

As though she had been slapped suddenly, Madelaine suddenly flinched, staggering back slightly, a hand reaching up towards her mouth. Her face paled rapidly, eyes widening as she recognized yet another familiar figure, and rather than feeling her spirits lifting, Madelaine felt as though her insides had frozen over...

Fifteen years ago, she had encountered this particular person only moments before she was rescued, and such an encounter was one Madelaine would have done anything to forget. What had happened to her then was probably the most painful and frightening event of all, beyond the presence of death and the desperation to survive. And what had happened between her and Cody Jensen was probably the hardest thing of all that Madelaine had been forced to deal with for all of fifteen years.

She backed away slightly, covering her mouth with her hands and looking away. Right now Madelaine doubted that this person in particular had seen her, and even if he had, Madelaine doubted somewhat that he would even recognize her...being a mental patient and all.

At the very least, this much was what she was hoping for.

"Oh God...." she murmured almost inaudibly. "I never thought...I didn't think that HE would be here as well..."
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 08:03 AM

Such a shame that I didn't know by now

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To say that Madelaine's eyes were the only ones glued to the hotel lobby doors as Cody Jenson was carted in would be a falsehood in itself. In fact, at least two other sets of eyes were glued to the insane man as he was brought into the hotel for the conference. The first set of eyes belonged to someone standing right beside Madelaine, someone who felt the shock that Madelaine felt, mainly because she staggered right back into her. That person was Amanda Jones. Her jaw dropping a little, she stood, shocked that the organizers would have even considered bringing Cody Jenson out of whatever mental institute that they'd put him in. It had been a widely known fact that Jenson had gone insane while on the island (though some speculated that he was beforeso as well), and the horrors that he had perpetrated on the island were some of the darkest moments of Survival of the Fittest. Madelaine's rape had been something she never liked to talk about, but Amanda had been the one that she'd spent countless nights on the phone with, trying to comfort her devastated friend. It was mainly because of that, Amanda knew, that was the reason that Madelaine had never really dated. She never felt all that comfortable around guys after SOTF, save for Hawley, and Adam for the first six days before he disappeared. Amanda couldn't imagine what her friend had gone through mentally, though she had an idea.

...and after all this time, she's got to live through it again...that's just not fair...

Shaking her head a bit, she pulled herself out of the self-induced trance and placed her hand on Madelaine's shoulder. If there was a moment that her friend needed some form of comfort, it was now. Glancing at Hawley, she spoke in a low voice.

"I'm shocked that they even let HIM out...why, though, what would the point be...of having him back, I mean? He's insane...God, I'm so sorry, Madelaine. Hey, uh...what do you guys say we check into our rooms, and go grab a bite to eat, get out of here? Get a drink, toast to friends forever lost...that kind of thing?"


The second set of eyes belonged to a man standing on the opposite end of the room, a man known to many of the people in the room, thanks to his success and fame. Sidney Crosby's mouth dropped open similarly to Amanda Jones', and yet, Crosby couldn't find himself the words to convey the shock at the appearance of Cody Jenson.

The man who Crosby had competed with and against in junior hockey, the man who'd subsequently injured his knee and gone completely insane, swearing death onto himself, raping another girl, and killing even more. After the island, Jenson had been the only student who had actually been taken into custody, mainly because of the rape. Sidney had tried to purge the boy from his mind, though at times he still woke up, the man's face in his mind, muttering something about feeling like afternoon tea...

Sidney visibly shivered. It were as if death had walked into the room, and had done his business and left without warning. The room was all the worse for wear for it, and every single person in the room knew it.
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 09:25 AM

just another daydream...

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The fifteenth year anniversary of the deadly game now as Survival of the Fittest was only a mere two days away, and making it out almost like a reunion of sorts for those souls lucky enough to survive that before mentioned ordeal so many years ago. They had made some sort of TV spot, getting all they could together for it… For him, it almost seemed like yesterday when he had been rescued from that island and returned home to his parents.

Which soon after lead to their move back to Germany, where he spent the rest of his teenage years before joining the military a year later, and joining the Air Force for his country. Which soon lead to war against Danya and his people when Germany (along with many other countries) allied themselves with America in their hopes of stopping the mad man.

During his time was promoted to the status of Major and had received a number of awards for fighting on the German side in his time as a fighter pilot, and even earning an Ace title by the time the war ended not to long after. Dressed in simple clothes of jeans and a black shirt, his aviator jacket (a real one this time, not like the one he had long since gone out of from his youth) decorated in the medals he had earned during his years in the military. Though now at the current rank of Colonel in the military, Edward Rommel was one of the many trainers for incoming pilots for the Luftwaffe.

"Ich reiste dieses weit, für dieses?" He found himself questioning outloud to himself as he looked up at the side of the rather large, and rather nice hotel he found out he wound be staying out in these days. He couldn’t complain, this place was a lot better than anything the military had usually set him up in, a lot better in fact. So with a shrug, Edward made his way through the door leading into the marbled lobby crowded with even more people than it was outside. Running a hand through his somewhat clean-cut black hair, he kept a tight grip on his duffel bag and pushed forward into the sea of people.

Having to sidestep in order to miss a young woman who seemed to be having trouble with her luggage as she sat down against it near the door he pushing forward none the less. Blinking every so often at the familiar faces about the area, though personally not wanting to speak with anyone after that long of a flight passed up saying a word to them and continued toward the front desk.

The area around there was no better either, he sighing again as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and moved to stand in one of the lines. A lot more people than he figured had shown up here, Edward at the moment unable to tell how many where actual members of the SOTF act and how many where fans and the reporters and the sort. Armed with their notepads and cameras hoping for any type of story to pop up while they where here, in the few months after the act itself he had gotten somewhat used to the sight and phone calls from reporters.

Yeah true he hadn’t been one of the popular ones of the act compared to others, but he had gotten rather used to it in Germany. Being the only German citizen to take part in it, the German media had been very much interested in the act in every detail they could work out of the boy.

He found his attention going from his thoughts back to the lobby, as a small up-roar of gasps and questioning tones reached him, causing him to turn where he stood and glance to where everyone seemed focused on. There standing along the center of the room, was a male in a straight jacket, seeming to be doing something to one of the people who had a hold on him, that from where he stood looked almost as if he had ripped part of the other man’s ear off.

Edward flinching at the sight as the men gave the order and he seemed to be injected with something that calmed him down to a degree before he was dragged up toward the area where the it would lead up toward the rooms. Screaming about something as they went along, Edward simply unable to do anything but blink at the sight.

Turning forward again once things seemed to have calmed down, he awaited his turn in line, it coming up a lot quicker than one would have thought. Once he had noticed that a majority of the people there weren’t really in the line itself, but more or less just moving through the lines in order to get somewhere else. Which only made Edward a bit mad, though instead of bickering simply dug through his jacket’s pocket, and removed the small bag of brightly colored candies and taking a few into his hand, downed a couple. If anything had stuck with the boy, it was his jellybean fetish… always a way to calm him down when need be, or whenever he had a craving for some.

Reaching the desk he almost let a sigh of relief out, but instead once again ran a hand through his hair and mused a small smile at the woman behind the counter. “Name please, sir.”

“Rommel… Edward Rommel.”

Typing a moment, the young woman smiled as she placed room keys down on the counter, placing another small piece of paper next to him. “Please sign at the bottom, Mr. Rommel.”

Doing as he was told, he carefully signed his name as neatly as possible before standing upright and taking his keys with a small nod in thanks before turning and moving out of the line, heading toward the elevator.


Fredrik Hughes had to admit he was rather surprised they’d let anyone of that nature out of a nut house such as Cody Jenson. The bastard had been one of the reasons a lot of people’s time on the island had been a living hell, though he personally had never met the boy, he could have figured what could have happened in the end of such a meeting. But luckily he hadn’t, and the worst that had happened to him had been the bullet wound he had gotten in his stomach at the clinic. That had knocked him out of both soccer and hockey in his junior year of high school, but in his senior year had made a decent comeback to both, enough so to be noticed by a number of football scouters around.

In the fifteen years since SOTF had ended, he had played on a number of teams, though currently found himself signed onto a team he had always wanted to be a part of, Manchester United. The sheer thought of he was going to play with his favorite team ever sky rocketed Fred’s life and Survival of the Fittest had been all but pushed into his mind.

This along with two marriages, both of which ended in divorce had helped his life to a degree really… divorce wasn’t anything to truly be happy about, but hey… he couldn’t be the only person to have had it happen to in these year, right?

Hell he hadn’t spoken to anyone in forever, Lyndi and his brother included. Though he was well aware of his twin’s successful marriage to some professional violinist in California, and the four-year old niece he had running around as well. Though with all the travel he had been doing, keeping in touch with even the family had been hard. But here he stood, in the mists of them all, having placed himself against one of the back walls when the thing with Cody had started. Fred finding himself rubbing an area of his shaved head, having shaved his once curly hair off when he had begun playing professional football.

Kicking at his suitcase pressed against the wall, he sighed some pressing off the wall as he glanced about through his sunglasses. There where a number of familiar faces, a lot he could name but knowing him… there was no doubt a number of them probably wouldn’t remember him unless they played attention to English Football, even more doubtful on that part even more than the first.

Glancing back again, he blinked taking note of the woman resting atop her luggage near the entrance, no doubt pregnant and somewhat familiar. Rubbing his head once more, he sighed a bit and moved toward where she rested. “Excuse me, miss? Need any help there?"


Hawley had to admit, his attention was all but taken off Callum when the commotion started about the lobby where they where located at the moment. He glancing off, and he finding his eyes glued on the sight of the man being dragged in by two others, tied up in a straitjacket and all…

Cody Jenson, a name he had come to loathe even hearing about more than anything else that had been involved in that damn game fifteen years ago. He had been the cause of some much internal and outer torment on people in that game that by the time they had been found and rescued by the American government he had been the only person he knew of that had been taken into custody.

A number of people on that island had become a murderer in the end, including both himself and Adam, yet they simply shrugged their acts off as nothing of their fault. Cody on the other hand, he had heard had quickly been sent off to the nearest mental asylum for all he had done… Madelaine’s rape included in it. The time in which it had happened, he had begun getting rather sick from the infections of his untreated wounds, as he had found himself far to concerned for the lives around his than his own.

Everything from then till a day or two after the rescue hadn’t been much more than a blur for him, but when he had finally came to his senses he quickly took note at how different everything was for the people he had come to call friends around him.

It had been Amanda who had told him what had happened, and at that point he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such hate for a single person more than he had Cody. This had been one of the main reasons, besides his intense shyness it had taken him so long to admit to the other girl how he felt about her, he just wasn’t sure if she could look at men the same way after what Cody had done to her.

And then longer to ask her to marry him, he knew she’d never forget or fully ever move on, but still… he wanted to do whatever could do to help his wife out now. These two days and the conference itself had suddenly gotten much harder on not only them, but probably a lot more people as well.

Hearing Amanda speak, Hawley nodded a bit frowning somewhat. “They’re probably doing it for the shock value...” He muttered back softly, glancing toward where Madelaine had backed away too, smiling softly as reached up, taking one of her hands that she had been covering her mouth with and squeezing lightly.

“Amanda’s right, why don’t we go put our stuff away. Then we can go do something together, catch up on what we’ve missed since we all last saw one another?”

Posted: Dec 22 2005, 10:58 AM


Allowing himself a smile, Callum nodded at Madelaine. See, this is not so bad. I don't have to feel on guard here... these people understand.

Visibly relaxing, he removed his hands from his pockets and ruffled his hair. He was about to say something back when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"...Thibodeaux. Lyndi Thibodeaux."

His head snapping around, he saw her. The girl who had haunted his dreams for the past 15 years. Lyndi. Looking her up and down, he had no doubt. It had to be her. She hadn't really changed that much.


Transfixed, he watched as she walked across the room and got in the elevator. His mouth hanging slightly open, his head cocked to one side, the steady murmur of voices all around him had little impact on him.

As the elevator doors came to a close, he was jolted out of his reverie. He had to see her, he had to check she was OK. Leaving the trio behind without so much of a goodbye- much like old times- he sprinted towards the lift doors and pressed the button repeatedly. After what seemed forever, the doors slowly came apart. Leaping inside, Callum once again jabbed at the buttons.


((yay for editing! Sorry Riser :())

Still a little out of breath, Mallory remained seated on the suitcase. She was getting some odd looks (and perhaps the odd look of sympathy every now and again) but no one had offered to help.

She made to stand up once more and was half stood up when the commotion from the hotel desk area took any further thoughts she had of moving straight out of her head.

Surely, it could not have been the boy she had run into back on the island...nonetheless, he seemed somewhat unstable. Sinking back down onto her suitcase, Mallory glanced around nervously.

It was then that she noticed the man standing nearby. She had briefly scanned over him whilst looking around- his face looked somewhat familiar, but she had ignored it. Now that he was close, however, there was something about his face that looked drastically familar. Squinting as she held out her hand for him to help her up, she tilted her head to one side, scrutinizing him thoroughly.


Although the curly hair she had known was gone, the face still looked the same. Was it really him? Why hadn't he said anything?

"Sure, thanks..." she said tentatively.

Although she certainly didn't have any of the feelings for him that she had on the island now, it was still somewhat embarrassing for her to run into him again. Brushing her hair back from her face, she smiled at him.

((Megami, I had no idea if you wanted Lyndi to run into Callum so whether or not he manages to find you is completely up to you ;)))
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 06:39 PM

Savage Intent.

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As Amanda and Hawley, along with several other people scattered throughout and about the lobby looked towards the bound form of Cody Jensen, Madelaine found herself unable to look in the same direction. Even at the sound of the commotion, consisting of frustrated shouts and maniacal hisses, Madelaine just couldn't bring herself to face the one who had been the source of the pain she had been dealing with since she was raped on the island fifteen years ago. Rather, she found herself drawing closer to Hawley, keeping her eyes averted.

She could still hear Cody from where she was, though he was merely mumbling, albeit bursting out in incoherent snarls at irregular intervals. It was enough to send a chill through Madelaine's spine, as she suddenly recalled vivid images in her mind of fifteen years ago, the time when she had suffered at the hands of this monster. Automatically, her other hand found her throat, and paling fingertips traced the scar at the side of her neck.

Already she was beginning to re-experience the moment when her assailant had given her this mark, having lodged his teeth into her neck during the assault, nearly killing her. Trembling slightly, she bit her lip, struggling to block out the sickening feeling in her mind. But aside from the feeling of physical pain, there was also the fear, anguish, and shame that she had felt during the event and several years afterwards.

"I don't understand..." Madelaine whispered with a trembling voice as she remained close to Amanda and Hawley. "What do they think they're playing at, letting him come here? I don't understand. They don't care at all how we feel, do they?"

For all that she had endured during the nightmarish game of SOTF, Madelaine was one of the rescured ones who had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder for the first month after her return. She had been warned of this beforehand at the time she had been rescued and treated at the nearest hospital, yet that didn't comfort her in the least.

Even in the safety of her home Madelaine kept experiencing flashbacks and nightmares related to the event. In some ways, she wasn't the only one who had to endure such. Practically everyone who had survived the game were mentally scarred in some way, but on the other hand, they didn't experience first-handedly the pain Madelaine had been forced to endure when she was raped by Cody Jensen.

For months, and even years after the event, Madelaine had confided in her closest friends, namely Hawley, Amanda, and Adam, all of whom turned out to be those she had actually first met and befriended during the six-day game. Though there was nothing that could be done to reverse what had already been done, Madelaine found comfort just being with them.

Amanda, for one, had always been there whenever Madelaine needed a listening ear, and the petty of matters of time and place didn't seem to have any relevency at all when it came to this. Even if it wasn't the most comfortable topic for Madelaine to talk about, the complete opposite of it in fact, just talking with Amanda was enough to help Madelaine recover somewhat from the mental trauma of the event.

Adam had been there for her too, seeing as he had been the one who had kept all of them alive and together for the duration of the game, though it seemed that he was already preoccupied with something, no doubt relating to the events of SOTF. Soon enough, he suddenly disappeared without warning. Not long after that, Amanda left as well to immerse herself in her newfound career as a musician.

And then there was Hawley, the one who had stayed with her for all of fifteen years. Madelaine knew that being with him had helped her to finally put the traumatic event behind her, and move on with her life. The very fact that she was raped was undoubtedly the reason why Madelaine was more reluctant than ever to associate with others, aside from those she completely trusted. Understandably, this included men in particular, other than Hawley and Adam of course. And even then Madelaine still felt somewhat uncomfortable. But as it turned out, Madelaine was able to move on, and acknowledge her feelings for the first man she had ever felt anything special for. Their marriage seemed to confirm that, and even though being with him couldn't completely erase her wounds, at least the very fact that he was there to help her was what healed them.

Just like now, as Madelaine found his hand meeting hers, and squeezing it gently. Drawing comfort from it, and relaxing her nerves a bit, Madelaine smiled back at her husband and grasped his hand tightly. She looked towards Amanda, nodding a bit in agreement, trying to forget about everything: the horrible event of fifteen years ago and the fact that they were about to resurface again for the next few days, espeically now that Cody Jensen was present.

"Yeah..." she murmured quietly, still trying to keep smiling. She picked up her suitcase where she had dropped it on the foor and, still holding on tightly to Hawley's hand, began making her way over to the elevators, doing her best to avoid meeting the eyes of Cody Jensen. "We have a lot to catch up on...we should have dinner together tonight."
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 10:12 PM

just another daydream...

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Fred watched the woman a moment or two as she stared back at him, he cocking a brow from behind his sunglasses before reaching out and taking her hand into his own. Gripping down on it, as he pulled some in order to help her up from her sitting position a top her luggage. He frowned somewhat, it must be rather hard for her, being that pregnant and having no one to help. He figured that at least her husband, or boyfriend or whatever would be here…

Smiling a smile that was common place for him, and had stuck with him since his youth, toward the woman. “Not a problem.” He mused, blinking again as he found her somewhat staring, he rather unsure as too why. Unless she was like him moments before, trying to figure out whom and where he knew her from, though a small piece of memory from the island clicked in play as he blinked remembering the clinic where he had gotten the wound in his stomach. Nodding just bit, with an another grin.

“I remember you now, we did meet back on the island – you where at the clinic that one time. I highly doubt you remember me though, but I was there with my brother,” Fred said, rubbing his head again. “Fredrik Hughes ring any bells?” He finished, laughing a bit.
Posted: Dec 22 2005, 10:51 PM


"...oh!" Most unexpectedly, Mallory found herself laughing as she wobbled on her feet precariously. "You're Fred!"

So this wasn't Glenn after all, instead his brother. They had indeed had a brief encounter back on the island, but she had been preoccupied at the time and had no real lasting memory of him. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she continued to smile.

"The name strikes me as somewhat familar, but... in all honesty, I don't really remember much of you, sorry!" she said, fiddling with her hands in an apologetic manner. "I was more... I got to know your brother. I thought you were him, guess that's kind of a common mistake, huh?"

She turned around and bent over to pick up her bag, only to fall back down onto the suitcase.

Oh, great. Really great, Mal...

Turning around to face Fred, she shrugged apologetically.

"I'm just as clumsy now as I was on the island... heh. Having a baby's really not all what it's cracked up to be, you know?"


Watching the pregnant woman with somewhat distain, it didn't even occur to Elise that perhaps she needed some help.

It's her own fault for getting pregnant...

Shaking her head, she forced such thoughts out of her mind. She promised herself she'd stop judging others when she got rescued, and here she was, back like old times, passing judgement on someone she'd barely met.

Grabbing her keys, she strode across the lobby, ignoring everyone she passed as she got into the lift.
Posted: Dec 23 2005, 05:27 AM

Princess of Highland

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In the moments that had elapsed after Lyndi had stepped off the elevator, she had done nothing but stand in the center of the hallway, effectively blocking much passage into the elevator, and gaze at the area around her, trying to gain her bearings somewhat in the large and elaborate hotel. Once again, the elevator bell echoed out, signaling that yet another person had reached floor number eight. Absent-mindedly, she pushed her suitcase up against a wall and stepped out of the way for whoever had just arrived to get through.

Figuring that whoever was exiting the elevator was another one of the survivors, she shrugged it off lightly. What Lyndi had not expected to see was the spiky-haired man who stepped out of the elevator doors. He was one of the four people she had spent the majority of her time with, and even now, she could never forget that face. Practically gawking at the man as she looked him over, a coy smile played across her lips.


The words escaped Lyndi’s lips in almost a whisper. He had not changed much at all. Something seemed a lot more distant about him, however. The smile broke into a grin, and without expectation, Lyndi embraced him in a hug. It had been fifteen years since she had seen Callum Hadley, and in reality, she never really knew whether or not he had been saved with all the other students. Releasing the man after a moment, Lyndi stepped back, looking him over once again.

"My... fifteen years, and you haven't changed a bit," she mumbled quietly.

Then again, she was one to talk. At thirty years old, she did not look a day over 25. Then again, that's what cosmetics and plastic surgery do for you. Smiling faintly, she toyed with a strand of hair that hung down past her shoulder. Casting yet another warm smile at Callum, she finally spoke.

"How are you? Where've you been? My God, it's been ages!"


"Hi, Greg? Yeah, I made it. I'm walking in the door now."

Jill Gatling, age thirty-one, pushed her way through the front door of the lobby, suitcase in tow. Things for Jill had really been an up-and-down battle since her stint on Survival of the Fittest. When she came back home, of course, she had suffered from a case of temporary amnesia. After a while, things started to come back, and for a bit, she actually had to attend counseling.

"You should see this place, Greg. It's absolutely amazing. I... wish you could've come."

After her counseling sessions had ended, however, things finally began going right for Jill. Following graduation, she had attended police academy, and had followed in her father's footsteps as a police officer. After completely the police academy, Jill moved to Nevada. There, things turned uphill, for good this time.

"I know, I know. I miss you too. Goodbye. I love you."

In Nevada, Jill joined the Las Vegas police force. Soon enough, she met fellow officer Greg White, who had, like all the others, heard about her terrible ordeal in Survival of the Fittest. Unlike the others, though, Greg was understanding, sympathetic, and compassionate about the whole ordeal. One thing led to another and now she and Greg were engaged to be wed in December.

As Jill finally hung up the cell phone, she cast half a glance around the room before heading to the reception desk. Sighing somewhat, Jill let her duffle bag slide to the floor and reached up, tighting the short ponytail her dark brown hair had been pulled up into. Casting a smile at the receptionist, she quickly did a once over of herself. She certainly had not overdressed for the occassion, instead opting to wear a simple blue halter-top and a black skirt.

"I'm here for the conference," she spoke to the receptionist. "My name's Jill Gatling."

The receptionist nodded and typed away at her computer, handing her the keys to her room after a moment and holding up a clipboard for her to sign. Jill signed her name and took the keys. Sighing a bit, she cast a glance over at the lobby that was filled to the brim with people. As social as she had been in high school, somehow, the whole conference made her nervous. She had wanted Greg to come, just to have a shoulder to cry on pending what happened here. Unfortunately, the LVPD had no desire to lose two of their top officers at the same time. Shaking her head, Jill edged away from the desk a bit, debating on whether to go talk with the others or simply go upstairs.
Posted: Dec 23 2005, 09:13 PM

This is the field where soul meets body

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No sooner had the door slammed on the raving form of Cody Jenson than another grand entrance occured. A white strech limo pulled up to the door of the hotel, sending the paparatzi who were scattered around into a picture taking frenzy. Several of the SOTF contestants had gone on to become quite successful, and whispers began perforating through the crowd that had gathered, speculating on who might step out of the limo. As the driver opened the door to the rear of the vehicle, loud blaring rock music could be heard coming from the inside, and a white snakeskin boot struck the pavement with a 'clack'.

Flanked by two security men, Donny 'The Director' Hammoran stepped out of the car, his long hair blowing in the wind. He wore a large boisterous white fur coat and hat, and had several glittering rings on each hand. A fine cuban cigar burned red from the corner of his mouth, letting up a small trail of smoke as he walked.

Donny had not been a student on the island. In fact, he had not even known anything like SOTF was even going on until after, when the press heavily covered the students return to saftey. He was here in place of one who died. One who gave up his life to the filth that ran the sick program. Donny removed the cigar and flicked it to the ground, ignoring the condecending look given to him by a valet standing nearby. He burst through the door with authority, approaching the reception desk with a flair only gained from years in the spotlight.

"My name is Donny Hammoran, and I'm here in place of Garrett Langston."

After SOTF, Langston's band Red Flame Rising abruptly broke up. Without their lead singer and songwriter, the remainder of the band knew it would never be the same. This left the remainder to fend for themselves, and this did not bide well with the backup guitarist, a young longhaired beach bum everyone lovingly called Dondon, or the Director. Dondon found a nice little friend called Heroin, and they enjoyed a stable relationship for nearly 8 years. During that time, Red Flame Rising became a cult favorite, and Garrett was exalted as no one had been since Kurt Cobain and Hendrix. It became the staple of dorm room CD collections, the favorites of many a college student. Generation-Y had found their martyr.

The other members of the band, including Dondon, all of a sudden found themselves with more money than they knew what to do with, and Dondon begin to find it easier to feed the monster that was begining to put a strain on his financial capabilities. He enjoyed 3 years of nonstop partying, and then he woke up.

One day Donny Hammoran woke up in his beachside condo, sober for the first time in many months. He realized it was not because he had made a conscious decision, but because he was out of heroin, and out of alchohol, and out of money. He kicked all the hanger-ons that were still lying around his house out, and promptly checked himself into a rehab clinic.

After six months of weaning himself off his steady diet of scotch and heroin, he sold his condo and moved into a nice suburban home in east LA. Another year went by, and he began to reteach himself how to play the guitar.

One year and six months after moving in to the small, unnasuming house, he recieved a call. It was from one of his old bandmates. The drummer, Kurt Jennesee. People had been howling for a reunion concert, and it was to be at the end of the year. Kurt wanted to know if Donny was interested. Donny politely declined, then called Kurt back and accepted the invitation.

This began what would become known as the Red Flame Rising revival tour, which was so popular that the stadiums seemed to sell out the second the tickets went on sale. It lasted for a year in the states, and right before he went on the european tour, Donny heard about the SOTF reunion.

"Terry, it would be good PR"

Donny stood pleading with his manager, a stout man in his mid forties with an ulcer and no time for excuses.

"Donny, you didn't end up on that island. You have no reason to be there. Its out of the question"

Donnys resolve would not budge. "I'm not doing it for them, I'm doing it for Garrett."

Two days later, Donny paid for a private jet out of his own pocket. He was rich again, due to the revenue and publicity of the tour. He flew to the hotel, where he planned to...He didn't really know why he had come yet, but he knew that there was something he was going to have to do while he was there, something that Garrett would have done if he had had the opportunity.

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