Welcome to Gaia! ::

((HP 15 --Fire hurts.))

For just an instant when the others began to attack the beast, Alpha Eleven had held hope. She was even beginning to reach for her gun to assist when the monster yelled and sent fire in their direction. The pain was almost overwhelming, and for a moment she thought she might die.

She didn't die. No she lived, she lived to hear the others yell and argue. What were they going to do now? She could offer...No. She didn't want to die. But if they had to choose someone, how? How was this going to end? How many would this monster ask for?

At least one of her questions was answered quickly. People started swinging at each other. Is this how it's always going to be? Then the shot rang out. Alpha Ten had been hit, and it looked like the end for her.

This was crazy. Alpha Eleven looked around at the group, and then at the monster. Everything they had said at the beginning was falling apart, all because of that thing. She felt like she was dreaming, all hope of a team staying together fading fast.

"We are killing each other. Happy yet?" she said in the direction monster. Her words came out the slightest bit choked, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the tears or rage. Most likely both.

The panic attack was quickly ended by a wave of fire passing over them all.

Z4 didn't feel it burning through his suit and slowly cooking him alive, though... he had gone to his happy place. Somehow, he had gone from upright to on his back, although he didn't feel the world move, his eyes clenched shut as he thought... of flowers.

He didn't know if he had a garden at home, it wasn't really a memory, he didn't think it was a memory, but in his mind's eye there was a lovely row of various colored tulips all slowly dancing in a cool afternoon spring breeze. Sunflowers swayed to meet the sun, and he was wearing a very nice suit with white shoes and there seemed to be a lawn party going on- considering he didn't know anyone's faces, each party goer still kept their mask, but were wearing equally nice dresses or suits, all laughing and clinking their glasses together... It was a nice party... and they were all wearing fun, silly hats. No one was dead, no one was about to die, in fact they were just about to start croquet...

Singed and smoking, Z4 twitched on the smoldering sand.

[HP: 14]

Oh, and now A-Seven had lost what little marbles he seemed to have possessed, and now Z-Eleven had made of himself a rather vivid target, one that more than one person seemed to be honing in on. Surveying the area with a careful glance, A-Three uncrossed his arms and circumvented the main skirmish in order to approach Z-Five, who seemed to be, by far, the most pitiable creature in this situation, barring, mayhap, the equally mentally vacant Z-Four.

Reaching a gloved hand down, he offered it to Z-Five. "Come on..." He coaxed, "It's time you regained your feet, I hardly think that Fiver would have appreciated knowing that you died in the dust after he had passed on." There was little emotion put into the words, merely a statement of fact, as A-Three hardly gave a damn about any of it. But this was just ridiculous...and once more, he needed to make ties, as temporary as those ties could be just now.

Another Five could do nicely.

Oh. Just bloody adorable. A-Three was certain that somewhere, and to someone, this would be a very touching sight, and now, he had to at least pretend that it was likewise...but at least everything seemed to be going according to plan on his end. Well, wasn't that a miracle? Trying very hard not to let loose another wearied, and ever so amazingly annoyed sigh, he patted Z-Five in a rather stiff manner, one that rather beautifully indicated that physical touch wasn't precisely Three's preferred method of interacting with the populace. "Fiver then." He murmured, as he positioned them both a good few feet away from the main skirmish and the two most notable raving loons. "I'm sure he'd be proud." Possibly. Actually, if the short while he'd spent with Fiver had been any indication, Fiver was probably just pissed like hell that he was dead.

A-Three could hardly blame him. He imagined dying to be a somewhat annoying experience to undergo.

But in the good news that he had for today...minion acquired.

(( HP: 15 ))

Fire hurt. A vague memory prompted A-One to drop to the ground, rolling in the sand until his clothing had been extinguished. Then he hauled himself to his feet, feeling more than a bit like a popcorn kernel. At least he hadn't popped. Hah.

Put that attack down on the list of Mistakes A-One Has Made Since Waking Up On This Damn Beach. It was a list getting longer far too rapidly for his peace of mind. The worst of it was that A-Three was right; while he hadn't actively attacked A-Five, he'd done nothing to stop the fight. And even if he'd stopped the fight somehow, someone still would have had to die. A-One's fists clenched at his sides.

This impossible place was going to force them to kill each other or die. Any alliances would be temporary at best. Watch someone's back? Sure, but be prepared to put a knife in it later. Metaphorically or literally. Any group they formed might later be forced to turn on itself. His attempts to push these people into working together had probably only made things worse.

There was one more question to ask himself: did he have it in him to kill someone in cold blood for his own survival? A-One didn't know anymore. He guessed, from the depths of his own horror, that he wasn't familiar with death. He wasn't particularly eager to go die, either. He guessed he'd find out if he had the balls when it came down to life or death.

But meanwhile, he didn't want to attack any of his squadmates, and he didn't particularly want to attack any of the Zetas, either. It remained to be seen whether the horse would be satisfied with two deaths. That would be the deciding factor in what action he took.

He stepped forward as A-Seven held A-Ten's still form in his lap, and laid a hand on the big man's shoulder. "Pull it together, man," he said, but not without sympathy. He hesitated, then added, "She wouldn't want you to break down over her."

"He merely called me Three. We had some...discussion as to my nickname, and he decided, wisely, to go with the most blatant and sensible of titles." There was something akin to satisfaction in the man's tone. A-Three, after all, would not at all have tolerated becoming Three-pi-Oh, thank you just the same. He couldn't remember the reference, but he was vaguely sure that it was demeaning.

Glancing down at Z-Five by his side, he found that he had to agree. "I concur, these games are pointless, and I frankly do not see why the creature does not kill us all and have done with it. I would truly rather it go its merry way, but my only guess is that it finds us amusing. I, however, do not find the amusement mutual." And that annoyance, that low growl of anger, crept into those last words.

He hated games. Especially ones that he wasn't clearly winning.

It wad done. He could only watch from afar as Alpha Seven held the body of the fallen Alpha Ten. There was sorrow... such sorrow there. It pained Zeta Six to watch him sit there, staring down at her limp body. She wasn't going to get up or answer him. She had put the first death into motion and now she herself was part of the sacrifice mentioned. Misery loves company. The cryptic thought came to mind as he viewed Zeta Four and Zeta Five. They both still seemed shaken. He hoped she too would get a burial, she deserved that and so did Fiver. Lives taken so that the rest could live another day. Have to live for them now, I suppose. He felt melancholy.

Zeta Six let out a sigh. He had hesitated, why had he hesitated? He could have saved the girl, perhaps. Bandage her up and make it so she wouldn't have to die. He shook his head. Somewhere deep inside he knew that someone would have killed her. She had been injured to near death, there had been no helping it.

It was the sad truth and churned his stomach to think over it. There had to be a better way to do this. But there wasn't. His eyes at last reached Zeta Eleven who had made the final shot, that final wound to kill her. He blinked, unseen under his mask. He moved back into the girls. "Stay close, this might not be over yet. That pendant is still around the beast's neck." He eyed it. Who would be the one he would give it to, if at all?

At some point, A7 had begun rocking A10's lifeless body. There was some rational part of his brain that was forcing him to notice the blood seeping down from her gunshot wound, and the lack of the rise and fall of her chest. It was back there, toying with the edges of his conscious, tiptoeing across a fine line.

Pay attention to me, it said. You need to pay attention to me.

A7 hummed a soft tune to himself, and it felt like home. He could almost hear her hum it with him.

He felt the hand of A1 on his shoulder, and looked up. The sight of the gasmask covering the man's face was like a cold slap of water. They were on this island. They were fighting for their lives.

And they.. she. She had lost the fight.

A7 slowly rested A10 down on the ground, lifting her arms to rest on her body in a way that looked as if he was trying to do it just right. When he was finally satisfied, he brushed his hand against her shoulder, and ripped the patch that had been pressed onto the bodysuit off. A10, it said.

He took the patch and slid it carefully between his belt buckles, so that it latched securely on his belt with no danger of falling. He dislodged the two medkits from her belt, and attached those to his own as well. Then he got up, and put his hand on top of A1. His voice was deep, and dark. Darker than it had ever sounded before.

"Okay, boss."

The mask was pointed at A1. It hid A7's eyes, which he was glad for. They were burning with a seething hatred, glaring sidelong at Z11.

His hands itched to wrap around that man's neck.

[A7 has taken A10's medkits]