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Z5 was almost like a lost puppy in the sea of people. He was waiting for orders but all he really gathered as that there was some kind of truce. His fingers squeezed the unforgiving wood of the mace. They were soliders. Soldiers needed some kind of leader. Right now all he saw was a group arguing and biting at each other. Obviously they were trying to establish some chain of command.

Like a bullet his eyes landed on Zeta Eight with almost an enlightened stare, if the mask hadn't been in the way. He instantly gravitated toward her and toward the authority she seemed to have. For a moment he stood there kind of dumb struck before he brought his hand up in a salute. That's what soldiers did after all. "... Number five ready for orders." He managed in as straight and even of a tone he could manage.

Eleven remained crouched in the distance, ears straining beneath his mask as he attempted to make out what all the commotion was about. His fingers traced idly along the barrel of his gun, awaiting the inevitable fire storm that would signal the end of his group members' lives. He frowned, a tinge of loss welling up in his chest. He tried to remember their masks, their particulars, the things that made them who they were. If he could remember, they could live on in his heart.

There was... that one. And the other one. There was, like, five of them, right?

But the sound of fighting never came. Well, there was certainly some screaming and chest beating and the foul stench of testosterone drifting from the general area, but from what Eleven was able to understand, the terms of a tentative truce were being defined. Ranks were swelling. Survival rates were increasing. Eleven could picture the decimal points nudging a few numbers higher. Leaving the gun in his bag and zipping it back up, he thought that maybe things weren't so dire after all.

"I AGREE." Again, Eleven appeared out of nowhere in an attempt to pretend like he had been standing there the whole time. He saddled up next to Twelve, because to have it any other way would be to give into the raging chaos that threatened to consume their hearts and destroy each and every one of them. There had to be rules, damn it, or else they'd all just be animals grasping at the last thin straws of humanity.

... Jesus, Alpha Seven was a very, very large man and or woman.

Alpha-Two plopped down on the sand next to Alpha-Seven, sticking to him like a limpet again. "You were, like, totally brave," she assured him, admiring what she was sure had to be a fine physique... under the uniform.

A-One took a long, deep breath. Okay. Okay.

"I appreciate your concern," he said to A-Nine. "But I'd like you to keep in mind that this is a survival test. We might not live through this, but I'd like to see my team get through it." Careful, careful. If he was going to set himself up as a leader to Alpha and Zeta both, at least for now, he needed to watch his words very carefully. "We can't all make it. So we're going to need to stick together and watch out for each other. I wish it were otherwise, but anyone else we see, we're gonna have to think of them as the enemy."

A-Eight still unsettled him a bit, but hell if he was going to show that now. He clapped a companionable hand on A-Eight's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the festivities," he said.

He looked to Z-Four. The guy seemed to be calm enough, almost pacifistic; he could deal with that, even if it meant Z-Four might have a harder time later. "Definitely unruly," he sighed. "Cooler heads will prevail, I hope."

Of the other team, Z-Eight seemed the most likely to be the leader. He nodded gravely to her; remember to keep an eye on her, he noted, but show some respect. That reminded him. He looked to Three. The man was hanging back, quiet; A-One wished he could see the expression on A-Three's face. He didn't like the guy, sure, but A-Three seemed to be one of the smarter people on his team, which meant he'd better keep A-Three happy, or at least not <********. He didn't want to be the leader here.

... He'd gotten so pissed he was swearing, and swearing a lot. Deep breath. Deep ******** breath.

Oh, ******** it. He'd use whatever language he ******** felt like using.

[ A11 ENTERING the thread ]

As A11 exited the tent, she heard yelling. Then talking. It wasn't hard to find the group.

Another team. She wondered how many there would be altogether. Maybe it didn't really matter. Except somewhere deep inside, it did. She didn't think she wanted to hurt anyone. Oh well. For now, she wanted to stick close to her team.　What else could she do for now?

As she joined the group, she made sure to stand near other Alphas. She had caught snippets of conversation, it sounded like they were teaming up for now. Two teams against the rest...until it came time for the end. She swallowed, glad that the mask hid her face. She was scared. She didn't want to think about how they were going to be...eliminated. So instead-

"Together then?" The more the merrier. (For now...)

((Zeta 3, reporting for duty!.. sort of.))

Perhaps in retrospect, Z3 had been better off lagging in the ranks.

At first, only the torture of his own thoughts left him lagging behind his would-be allies, yet as the minutes marched on, he began to slow himself with more purpose. That ignorant moron Four was bound to go charging in without a thought, leading the others into what could possibly be a lethal trap. To lose Eight so early in the game seemed a sad possibility, and yet... ultimately, his own neck would be the one most precious. They could test the waters before he finally turned up.

Needless to say, stealth proved a nearly impossible venture clad in some bulky damned suit, but he made certain to place each step with methodical precision and stay as quiet as his breath would let him amidst the fog. Voices? Oh, he could only hear them vaguely. In particular, there was a dominant screaming of some voice he didn't recognize telling its comrades (or so he could only assume they were) to shut up, sit down, and not kill each other.

... Well, he supposed that made the place safe for chancing, didn't it?

"This group already seems to have a hierarchy," he mumbled to no one but himself, making a point of keeping his hands-- which bore no weapon-- in plain sight gripping either backpack strap upon closing in. Sure, he'd kept it near the top of his bag to be whipped out at a moment's notice, but no need to go in with guns blazing, either.

People had already made that mistake and he wasn't about to do it twice.

Zeta Eight looked over as Zeta Five appeared beside her, tilting her head a little at his introduction before realizing he was awaiting her orders. "Thank you," she replied, giving him an acknowledging nod in response, "Zeta Five, please keep an eye on Zeta Seven. He and one of the other Alphas don't seem to be getting along very well." Zeta Five seemed to be a good person for this job. He seemed ready and willing, and did not seem overly keen on thrusting himself into battle with a potential ally, something they needed right now, especially since Zeta Seven did not seem to be making friends very quickly. (She had noticed how Alpha Seven had responded to him. Boys.)

The chaos, however, seemed to be dying down.

Turning back towards the Alphas, she addressed Alpha One, since he seemed the most rational of the red-clad team. "I believe we should go through brief introductions, if we are to be ... allies?" They certainly couldn't be friends. In a life-or-death situation, you didn't make friends. You couldn't make friends. Making friends meant making yourself vulnerable. And Zeta Eight might have been already far too close that line than she cared to admit.

"Zeta Seven, perhaps you and ... your friend could find something productive to do?" she suggested, looking to Alpha One for confirmation. She would not dream of giving an order to an Alpha, not when their alliance was so shaky already. She preferred not to give orders to her own teammates.

Speak of the devil, Zeta Three's appearance was just the remedy for this. He was reasonable -- a leader in his own right, to be sure. The fact that he had followed, however belated, lead her to believe that perhaps he was still willing to still work with her. "Zeta Three," she replied in greeting, not hearing what he had said.

"Why?" Nine asked, cocking her head at One. "You're the boss and it's cool and all, and I'm glad we're not all killing each other but if this is a survival test, wouldn't it be easier on your own -- or possibly just a small group -- rather than babysitting everyone here?" She twirled on one foot. "But good for you, being a go getter like that~"

Nine saw Alpha Eleven exit the tent onto the beach. "Hello!" she called out to the newcomer. "Yep, we're all together for now, it seems."