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Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-18-06, 05:58 PM (EST) "Survivor: The Society Islands: Episode #8: The Following Episode Contains Scenes..." LAST EDITED ON 09-20-06 AT 09:46 AM (EST) ---------------------------------------------------------------- Before ---------------------------------------------------------------- {Topic title: The players, the game, the editing: Society Islands: the jury and beyond.} {...no one was really expecting Angela to make that Evil Overlord speech, and it's hard to tell what it means for her story arc. We've seen a few sides of her at this point: she's very dedicated to her causes to the point of borderline fanaticism, she has absolutely no regrets about her manipulation of Tony and practically no respect for anyone else on her tribe, she believes she's the smartest woman in the game -- but to come out and make a speech that would make Silas appear to be a model of restraint? No, that one wasn't on anyone's radar. The main questions for her are: are we being set up for the winning villain -- or is something going to happen which will dethrone her? Only one person has ever been able to get away with this level of hubris, and that's Richard. Angela might want to be him -- but there are certain tricks which only play once...} {...suddenly, Tony is the biggest victim of the game. He really believes Angela cares for him, and it couldn't be clearer that she regards him as nothing more than a foil to take into the Final Two. We've seen people hurt by showmances before, generally on other series -- but Tony may set a new standard. It makes you wonder if he left the show still believing he and Angela were together, and what his reaction must have been last night when he finally found out exactly what his status was in her eyes. Perhaps real emotion came later in the game for Angela's side -- but it's hard to believe that could happen. Tony is someone else's vote, challenge threat, idol retriever -- and there's nothing he can do about it.} {Robin's swing chances may be at an all-time high -- or they might have diminished to zero. Does she believe the apparent Final Two promise? If so, she will not move: just grit her teeth and bear the agony of her own group until she gets cast out earlier than she expects, too much of a challenge threat to go any farther. But if she sees through it, then she has incentive to switch and give the remaining four Turare the fifth vote they so desperately need. However, this assumes two things: that Turare will take Mary-Jane back -- and that Robin will believe any promise they give her. Somehow, no matter which camp she's in, her situation refuses to improve...} {...it's not the usual choice for a wild card, but Phillip just might be one. His loyalties to Haraiki have been played up to the point where we have exactly two options: he stays with them no matter what, or he learns exactly what's been going on, decides it's not to his taste, and moves over. While the later has been edited into a very low-probability option, it's not impossible: MB may be setting us up for one of the game's all-time jumps from someone who's been edited to be one of the game's all-time good guys. But for Phillip, a promise seems to be a promise -- and if it's unbreakable, then so is the Haraiki alliance.} {...where is Connie's story arc going? The direct conflict with Alex is nearing its conclusion: her rival has just a few episodes left before becoming the last Turare to be Pagonged out of Amanu. Once Alex is gone, Connie almost has no story-reason remaining to be in the game: her secondary arcs are minor at best and can be wrapped up with a few seconds of work. It may be that Alex outlasts Connie after all with a strategically-timed Immunity win, making Connie into the first Haraiki disposed of. Or we could be standing at the threshold of a redemption edit (if you believe there's something here that needs redeeming). If so, there's a lot of work to do, and only so much time in which to do it...} {Gardener likely has three days left, and he's far too intelligent not to have realized it. He will try to win Immunity and he'll do his best to hunt for the idol -- but in his odd way, he may have too much dignity to go around scrambling for votes he knows he'll never receive. The question of Gardener's editing now starts to apply to his future performance as a juror, where he might reasonably be expected to continue the personality he's shown to date: harsh, but ultimately fair -- if he gets the chance to think for a while. Most of that has come out in his Survivor Gold sequences: Gardener is extremely rational once he's had the chance to calm down -- but there's always something to calm down from. He could make an emotional decision in casting his ballot and regret it later -- but the decision, once made, is final.} {Is it possible to be under the radar and doomed at the same time? Gary, liked by all and supported by nowhere near enough people to save himself, may be about to answer that question.} {...we've been trying to work out the real theme of Alex's story arc since the moment she first made her presence known on the show, and it may ultimately come down to her having seen herself as the first boot and acting to make sure she'd be more than the answer to a trivia question. Alex may be here for remembrance, and her ultimate target could be us. She wants people to know she was there, both those in the game and among the viewers -- and in that sense, she may be the biggest DAW of all. But it also means she will not go quietly. Alex will fight to the last second to save herself, and if (when) she fails, she will make her final impact from the jury. The time she has remaining should be just enough to wrap up the Tarot cards -- and 'Judgment' can very easily mean her ballot. But at the same time, Alex is Turare's wild card. She is still playing the game against the game itself as much as she is against the other players. Once again, she should be out of it -- but if Phillip/Alex/Robin trio proposed for when Alex becomes the Last Turare Standing comes to pass... After this many episodes, the only thing we know for certain about the most unpredictable player in this season is that we can't count on knowing what she's going to do next. Haraiki is counting on her leaving. From everything the editing has shown us to date, there is no guarantee that Haraiki -- and Angela -- are right. She should go, she has to go and claim her jury seat -- but you have to wonder if anyone's convinced her.} {Mary-Jane's emotional meter has swung firmly over to misery, where it may stay for her remaining time in the game. Tricked by Haraiki, Turare furious with her, and abandoned by Alex, she has no allies left -- a nightmare situation for a player who's been trying to be with someone since the game started. Laughed at by one group and perhaps unable to return to the other (where she currently isn't even worth anything as an extra vote), she is as alone as anyone has ever been in the game. It's hard to see her quitting -- but her ouster will come as a relief to her.} {...at this point in the game, it's worth giving Jeff a nod, as his edit has changed simply from having come into existence. We've seen more of his emotional side here than in any other season as he struggles to keep control of a cast like no other -- in a game that continues to insist on taking turns for the strange. He's still neutral, he's still unbiased -- but even more so than with his usual leading statements and attempts to direct the way TCs run, he's becoming involved in the game: a definite part of it and an extra character in the story. Jeff is keeping control, but it's taking an effort. Some of that strength is normally utilized to keep the mask in place. And here and there, it's been slipping.} {However, any and all of this can be invalidated in a second. The single image we received for a preview -- the single non-image -- can mean only one thing for the episode. And just what that is, we'll know on Thursday -- but we know it can't be good...} ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Topic title: Trooper on The Early Show.} {His first lines: "You didn't stick a drugged needle on the seat for Desmond, right? And if you did, you took it out before I got here?" Yep, he's a lot looser than he was his first day on the island. We're looking at a brand-new statie.} {Post-show life... he's been getting recognized when he pulls people over, said it made his job a lot easier because people are too busy trying to ask him questions about his time on Yanini to complain about the ticket. He was getting it from the other officers right after the tower challenge, and he kept finding water guns on his desk. "After last night, I'm probably looking at slingshots." His wife said she barely recognized him when he got back, and that was mostly just from having had some real time off from the job. He let something slip, BTW -- but it's only interesting for some of us: Sequesterville was Okinawa -- one of Japan's prime beach areas. Must have been a lot of fun for pretty much everyone involved. Except Desmond, who probably spent the whole time cursing people out for not speaking English.} {Alex must be kicking herself for not going out earlier -- she missed a chance to see a lot of original manga.} {Interesting (if delusional) predictions -- he doesn't think the Pagonging is cut and dried. "They can beat it. Haraiki is too confident -- I believe that more than ever after seeing the episode last night. Just because Angela's spending all her time patting herself on the back doesn't mean her hand can form a shield against the knife. Turare isn't out of this yet." Yes, he was speaking to Alex with those last words -- he actually believes she's Turare's best hope. "She's the only one of us to find an idol, and it was just bad luck that she didn't get two. She forced the tie and saved herself at Desmond's vote. And since I've been home, I've gotten to see even more of how she works. If anyone's going to switch this up, it's Alex." And as such, get ready for his Final Two -- Alex & Gardener. And why Gardener? Because he's the one who switched his vote to force the tie when Desmond was bounced -- Trooper voted for Alex. No Secret Scene to confirm it and Julie had some doubts, but Julie wasn't even sure who she was talking to, much less why.} {Huh. Well, that's the first Alex prediction for F2. I have some doubts on that vote statement, too -- he has no reason to lie except for EPMB having asked him to keep it up just a little bit longer...} {No, I think this confirms Alex/Gardener. Put it together with the events of last night -- Gardener was about as betrayed as anyone's ever been. He thought Turare was a solid five-vote block and that Alex was with him more than anyone. Once he thought she'd switched -- knives! Guns! Murder in the dark! But once it was confirmed as Mary-Jane -- down went the feathers.} {Possible.} {Why did M-J admit to switching? Weird -- she could have let the mystery stand and watched Turare swing Alex out on an 8-1 alliance-for-a-day with Haraiki.} {It comes back to what happened after the Council. I think Angela had this one right: M-J didn't just swing for herself, she switched to protect Alex. Strategically, it's an interesting move -- imagine them as the Final Two: Mary-Jane probably wins 7-0 based on her ability to smile at the jury while answering their questions. Mary-Jane has been aligned with Alex basically since Day Two, and she's always been all about the female power block. Once she saw she had a chance to join a real one and carry her partner into it, along she went for the ride -- which turned out to be a slide into the incinerator. She spoke up for two reasons: one, she thought she was now in the main alliance, protected and beyond reprisal -- and two: she didn't like seeing Alex yelled at like that. M-J may really like Alex. Hard to imagine why, especially when it's just about impossible to tell how Alex feels about her...} {After last night? Pissed off. I don't think Alex is going to be very fast to forgive mental mistakes.} {An ally is an ally. Mary-Jane gravitates more towards the female alliance model than the mixed one: she tried to work the males and failed, so she's going with 'I'm the prettiest girl here! Follow me!' And Alex just struck her as a natural follower, especially when Alex was outnumbered and the target right before M-J. Desperate people are the best ones to have with you. We have not gotten the innocent, happy-go-lucky, 'I may be using my looks, but I still love everybody!' model on this show. This isn't the one to start a new stereotype.} {We hadn't gotten a lot of things until this season started...} {Y'know, once Trooper got off the show -- and a little before -- he really started coming across as a good guy. If you have to be pulled over, he's probably the one you want doing it. And if you want someone predicting the game, he's the absolute last one you turn to. Alex & Gardener? Allied? Sure. Final Two? Yeah, right. Not a chance. The Pagonging will continue until the beach is cleansed. Men and non-Christians first.} {Yeah, Trooper's not the worst person to appear on the show, but he's not exactly all that great at solving clues when they're shoved in front of his face. Pull over, man: we need to check your brain for the influence of hard optimism.} {Gotta ask -- did he ever explain his name?} {Nope. Julie didn't even ask. Guess some things are just destined to remain a mystery for all time. Or to be saved for the Reunion, whichever comes first.} {And he can't explain the preview screen, because he wasn't there and he's just as worried as we are...} {Worry? Really?} {Well, normally it would be 'Hooray! We're down another one!', but it's a little too soon after Frank.} ----------------------------------------------------------------- During ----------------------------------------------------------------- {We are in Week #8, and there's only two things we know for certain: we're at the boring vote stage -- and we're in the 'dreading the episode' state, because no one can agree what that ten-second preview means.} {We all know what it means. We just don't know who's involved, how, when, where... it could be a challenge, it could be an accident, a Skupin, a fight between contestants -- anything.} {The popular vote is still Alex, right?} {Right: Gardener is the ouster unless he wins Immunity, and then it's Gary. (For some reason, we're all trusting Angela to keep her word there. Go figure.) But Alex is the subject of the preview. Admittedly, this is based on exactly one thing, and it's the video footage we weren't supposed to get. But yeah -- Alex. No one knows how or why, but they're convinced who is a mortal lock. But with everything played up the way it is -- if you can count a single bit and a series of 'you won't believe what happens' commercials as 'playing up' -- then it's almost got to work out to something minor. Blister, Band-Aid, continue.} {Or maybe the power of mass prayer just became retroactive.} {I don't want her hurt. Just gone.} {How much do we have from those preview commercials?} {The analysts agree that it's Gardener yelling. Other people are insisting they're picking up Angela & Mary-Jane in the background. I don't hear that first, personally, but they're the experts -- I'll take their word for it.} {This has been driving me insane. Thirty-seven locked threads, the active one up to a hundred and forty-two posts, and all we're agreed on is person and body part. And that's for a really weak value of 'agree'.} {Any help from the Riddlemaster?} {Exactly the opposite. If you haven't been over there yet, boys and girls, then let me move the act into the center ring. 'You don't know what you're sure you know.' I'm reading that as 'the preview is a false alarm and EPMB is just making sure no one sues him for trauma.' But -- Burnett felt he needed to put that preview up. Also that it was the most important thing he could do to lure us in. He may be right about the second one, but it's not as if we were really going anywhere.} {I'm in the thirty percent minority group here -- I think they find a body.} {And I think you have a chance to be on the right track -- this may be the week when we wrap up the billionaire's story arc.} {Suddenly, I'm rooting for a corpse.} {Dude, don't even joke.} {You know how I meant it.} {Recap! What do we want? A sixth vote! When do we want it? Now! But first, we have to get two tribes together in one clearing and start the tedious business of pretending they're a single group, so let's bring back the ambassadors. Turare, Phillip really likes your campsite. Haraiki, Connie really doesn't know how to deal with being this disappointed. But the tribe has spoken, and the tribe is 'Phillip's dead dad', so we're going to Turare, where we can't quite get the drunk shots on the first try, but we can get Angela trying to bring Alex into her alliance: third place, would she lie to us? No, but maybe she's lying to Mary-Jane, because the blonde will be leading the blonde up the Fallen Comrades trail. Say, didn't we have a challenge scheduled? Hey, didn't every slightly insecure male in the world just swear off Mary-Jane forever? And here's our drunk shots: Tony, Simon has spoken, get the hell off the beach! Next up, we have an Immunity challenge and finally, we have one Jan and Scout could have won, plus Elmore would have been a guarantee if he managed to keep from scratching himself. Gardener's great at moving, but most of that is his mouth, so the first awarding of the Incredibly Ugly Necklace Of Relative Safety goes to our favorite grump: wear it in ill humor. But you'd better get used to the sensation or you can start picking your jury seat now, because while it's a little hard to fool Alex, Mary-Jane just needs a reassuring word and a promise that Women Against Clothing That Doesn't Fit won't be picketing in front of her next sixteen photo shoots. So our sixth vote falls into line, then finds out she's fallen out of favor even faster -- and Angela makes a speech that everyone's ranking in the Top Ten for pre-jury. Also the Top Three for hubris, or it would be if only she wasn't on the fast track to the Final Two, skating along on Tony's frozen brain. And what's going to happen next? We don't know. But Burnett felt he had to warn us about it, and we nearly all have delicate constitutions, so I'll just be typing to myself for the entire night. Yeah, right. And personally, given the current attitude permeating the FCC, I think M-J's about to show her misery by spending the entire cycle in the nude. Danger, AFA! Danger! Danger!} ----------------------------------------------------------------- I don't want to be in camp right now. I don't want to be on the island. I almost want to be going first, watching from the jury, exploring the mansion grounds -- but that's going too far. I want to stick around and see if I can find some way, any way to last longer than the sixth place I've been promised -- but I just don't want to work on it here. This isn't Turare's camp any more. It's Haraiki's. And they're letting us know it. It's not as bad as it's been for some tribes on the downhill side of the Pagonging. Angela already announced "We're still doing our share of the work. We'll get water, fish, clean up after ourselves --" a hard look at Connie had followed that one "-- and we're not going to just hang around and gloat for twelve days. Just because we took this stage doesn't mean we'll spend the rest of your time here rubbing it in." Because she's playing to the eventual jury. And as promised, they've been pitching in their fair part -- at least, Phillip has. Phillip has been trying to take over every bit of work that's available on the morning of Day Twenty-Two, and that's just because he really seems to enjoy it. I didn't even get to carry any water today. Mary-Jane got bumped off cleanup... Mary-Jane slept in the hammock last night: I know because I woke up to find her missing and went out to the beach to check on her. Fast asleep among the ropes, half-curled into something close to a fetal position, dried tear tracks on her face. We haven't spoken all morning -- I think she's at the lake right now. Phillip talked to her, and I caught a bit of it: "It's just the game: you can't take it so hard. If things were a little different, it could have happened to any of us." I wonder how much he knows about Angela's ultimate plans, and especially what she thinks of him -- but I haven't had a chance to try and tell him, and I don't think he'd believe me if I did. Phillip doesn't want to believe the worst of anyone. Gary spoke to Mary-Jane, but I wasn't supposed to know that. I went out to find a bathroom spot -- toilet occupied, Connie was taking her sweet time and it had added up to something that felt like twenty minutes, maybe Bruce's constipation found a new home -- and passed through their audio range. It wasn't anything alliance-related. I just heard her saying "She hates me..." and Gary reassuring her that I didn't, I had just been angry about the vote, I'd calm down and realize I couldn't blame her for making the mistake eventually. Gary seems to have forgiven Mary-Jane. I'm not there yet, but that's mostly because I'm trying to use that anger as a way of not blaming myself. I didn't convince her it was a bad deal, and she switched. If I'd found the right words to say -- -- Tony still would have had the idol. 'If' is bad enough without playing 'What if?' on top of it. Gardener's been on the beach for most of the morning. He's doing some fishing. He wants to get some more providing in while he still has time to do so. He may even be eating some of it raw to get extra strength for the next Immunity challenge. Gardener needs the necklace more than anyone, knows it, and he's ready to fight for it -- but there's a strange resignation about him now. If he doesn't get the necklace again, can't find the idol, then he's going to be the first on the jury, and there's nothing he can do about it... Phillip's been decent about the whole thing. Tony's a little too happy, but his control dial may have never been installed. Connie's been gloating as much as I expected her to, plus twenty percent. Robin's been oddly quiet, especially given that it's Robin -- I already know not to expect silence from her as a regular thing. She's been very thoughtful the whole morning, seemingly distracted by inner voices. I want to get her aside eventually, see if she's willing to come over to us -- but it's probably pointless. For all I know, she's practicing her speeches for the Fallen Comrades walk and trying to figure out just who she'll bring with her to the Final Two. I don't know if we can convince her that Angela has to dump her earlier. Robin may believe she can beat it. Probably does. Haraiki is a very diverse group of people, but they do have one thing in common: none of them are very good at listening. Angela is the reason I want to get out of camp. "Hey, Alex!" From the shelter. She's very awake and ready to take on the world. You could almost think she indulged in some of Frank's grass. "Got a minute?" No. I don't have a minute. I have, at most, twelve days unless I can think of something, and every second I spend talking to you is one less I have to work on that. Is anyone on Haraiki swingable? Maybe this is the ideal time for Mary-Jane to really throw herself at Tony. Except that even if she did it, I'm not sure Gardener would have her back... unless she was bringing in an extra vote... "Sorry -- busy." Angela laughs. The musical tone of it is getting on my nerves. "You're shifting the rocks on the border of the fire pit." "I'm trying to produce musical notes from the wind," I shoot back. "We've had near-concerts some nights. I'm going for a B-sharp." Useless fiddling to keep my hands occupied while my mind runs around in circles, trying to find a way inside the Haraiki fort. Drawing isn't doing the trick today: I have a major case of artist's block. "It's not easy work." Another laugh. "Yeah, right -- look, I just need a few minutes here. Please?" I could get very sick of Angela saying 'please'. Actually, it's too late. But I don't feel like prolonging this by having her talk at me for several minutes while I'm trying to think, and I don't want to leave the area just yet because if I do think of something, somehow, which still won't work but at this point, it's worth trying anything -- well, I'd have to tell someone... not that there's many people in camp right now... actually, on the contestant side, it's down to me and Angela... "Whatever." I walk over to the shelter. Angela has a sheet of plastic -- gold, with thin black lines -- spread out on a pallet. She's scooping small oval stones out of a felt bag: black and white, translucent. "Ever play Go?" Good, this can be a short one. I don't bother coming all the way in. "Sorry -- no idea how it works." I know the name from someone else's strip. That's it. "You'll have to find someone else." I turn away, ready to leave. The head shake is just about audible. "Come on -- I'll teach you. We've got time." With complete contentment, "Tony overheard two of the camera people talking -- the Reward challenge isn't until the middle of the afternoon. Since we know we've got hours to kill, we might as well have some fun with them. I haven't been able to use this since Denadi left -- she was the only one who was even a little bit interested. This isn't Tony's style, Phillip just does checkers, Connie -- hah. You get the idea. It's not that hard to pick up -- come on in." Without turning, "You already won the main game -- if you want to claim a few smaller ones along the way, find someone else." She can try asking Gardener. Hopefully while I'm in range to pick up the reaction. Block or no block, I could probably manage to draw that: it would be well worth recording. And I can definitely hear the frown. "I thought you weren't bitter." "I slept on it." Let her read that however she wants to. Angela actually sighs. I turn around to see if it looks even remotely sincere. The tail end seems to have a little reality going for it. "I know -- I never got back to you. But Mary-Jane was swaying, I could see that -- and she was easier to work on than you were. You're just too stubborn." Wryly, "As I'm seeing right now." "Really?" Completely dry. "I was under the impression I was stupid." I was not expecting a groan. "Oh, for -- okay, I knew I'd have to do this, but I was going to do it over the board... This is about the speech. I was going to have to explain the speech. I wrote the speech knowing I'd have to go over it afterwards. Alex, the only reason I said what I did on the beach is because the cameras were running. You have to understand that." She has both my complete attention and my utter lack of belief. "You know what I do for a living. I work against some powerful people. Dangerous people. Most of the groups I work for are small, just getting started -- no influence whatsoever. They scream into the halls of power and they can't even get echoes back. You understand that, right?" I nod. Sure, for the purposes of this non-conversation and in the name of getting it over with, I will understand that. "I said what I said because I want them to be afraid of me." Blink. Repeat. No, the imaginary rose-colored glasses are not completely vanishing from her eyes, although I've just about got them down to contacts. "Come again?" I understand exactly what she meant. I just want to hear it in her words. Another sigh. "I made an evil mastermind speech because I want to be seen as an evil mastermind. The groups I work for can get a lot further in their causes if I can march into the local city council and have the mayor trembling at the sound of my footsteps. People are going to be afraid of what I can do now -- and that'll let accomplish more than I ever could before. There was no way the editors weren't going to use any really good speech I made to make myself look like a complete bitch -- so I made one. End of story." "And what makes you think they won't use this one?" Because we're being filmed right now, as always -- three camera operators, one for each of us plus a third roaming for angles -- and there's nothing like an irony shot... She smiles. "Because right now, it'll ruin my edit. Once a villain, you stay a villain unless you do something major -- and I'm not going to. Any redemption has to wait until just before Final Two, unless they give me Richard's track... which I can live with. This isn't Big Brother -- the audience doesn't have to like the winner." She gestures to the pallet floor. "So. Wanna play?" This is a joke, right? I can see where she's going here, I can even see how it would work out for her, but... "So this means you're not just using Tony?" Because you could almost feel sorry for Tony, you really could. As long as he's here, he's safe in his dream: allied with a beautiful woman who cares about him and wants to be with him after the game. But once he's home, he'll see the speech Angela's so sure they'll use -- the one where I'm sure she's right -- and he'll know what his part was all along: closest available sucker. Frank's lucky he wound up with Turare: he was probably Option #2. Better an overdose and recovery than a shattered heart. And the merriest laugh to date. "Of course I'm using him. The man was practically cast to be used. Come on -- if it wasn't me, then Mary-Jane would have done it, and if it wasn't her, then you. She's a little more towards his type, though. I think he's curious about you, but you're a little short." This time, she pats the floor. "Men are meant to be used. It's called 'revenge'. Now come on -- the game is basic. You have to surround the enemy with your forces, you place stones on the lines, not in the squares or on the intersections --" I can't take this. "Azure!" She perks up on her perch. "Here." Within heartbeats, she's on my forearm. I don't bother transferring her to my shoulder. The weight is something to think about other than how much I despise Angela right now. "You want a speech, Angela? If you're in the Final Two, I'll probably vote for you unless someone else made one hell of a strategic play to get there with you." She starts to smile. "But I don't have to like you. I'm the local audience." And it freezes before both corners get more than a few millimeters away from center. "You're a strategist, you did what you felt you had to. Fine. I understand that and I can even admire it a little -- at least as far as what you did to Mary-Jane is concerned, just for the game play aspect. But I can't respect you for Tony." Who is nowhere near camp: he's enjoying a swim in the lake. "Minds are the tools in this game. Hearts aren't." Flirt, yes. Fake love, no. It's a very fine line, but I can see it in the sand and it shouldn't be crossed. Frost on the leaves. "Don't blame me for doing what you weren't able to. Just because you couldn't play Frank before he went out -- or you did, and lost him to whatever happened --" I turn about as fast as I ever turn: the resulting secondary movements take a few heartbeats to settle down. "I'm going for a walk." Coldly, "Tony won't believe you." "I know." I head for the beach path. "That's why I'm going for a walk." She probably shrugged before starting her next sentence. It's the sort of thing I can picture her doing: dismiss everything. I just don't need to see it right now. "Fine. The board will be waiting when you get back. It's a great game -- you should learn to play it." With just a touch of sarcasm, "It would really help your strategical abilities -- if you had any. I don't think you're stupid, Alex. I think you're average -- with one workable talent. Against me, that's just not good enough. You can't draw your way to the Final Two." I won't be praying my way there either. I want out. I want her out... ...and I leave. Heavy footsteps fall into pace behind me as I hit the trail's entrance. Too heavy for my confessional filmer: I glance back to see who I've picked up. Oh, great. Jake. I am going to have Jake following me for the entire walk. I should go back and get the sketchbook just to see if the act of drawing him will return some of the annoyance factor. Except that I'm still blocked, I wouldn't feel like drawing him if I wasn't, I already got one of him a few days ago while he wasn't paying attention -- and the sketchbook is in the shelter with Angela. Screw it. I can deal with having Jake on my heels for a few hours, even if he spends the entire time shooting something slightly higher. He's been orienting on my rear a lot lately. Apparently there's more than one special-interest group among his intended recipients. Or he just thinks it's more subtle, take your pick. It's certainly easier to work with when you're filming from behind. "Whatever," I loudly mutter, meaning for him to overhear me. "It keeps you from dropping subtle hints about taking me out before Gardener." Who is just barely visible in the water as a bobbing snorkel for a few seconds before he surfaces with a small fish at the end of the sling spear. Apparently things are going well, other than the whole 'out in three days' part. I'll just walk until I calm down a little. The game might be interesting to learn. But from Angela, who'll teach me just enough to lose -- no. She gave me exactly one piece of information I can use: the challenge isn't until mid-afternoon. It's still fairly early in the morning. That means I've got time -- and I'm going to use it to take a run at the mansion. Having Jake along just makes things all the better. If I can lose him long enough to get close, it'll be all the worse for him, even if I have only five seconds to look at the grounds before he hauls me back. Nice, steady pace, let him get used to moving at one speed -- and then, if he starts to say something or checks his radio for the perimeter alarm, go for it. The sketchbook part can wait for my post-ouster debriefing, especially since I'll have long pre-vote days to do nothing except hang around the mansion and draw. This is about defiance. Step Two: defy Angela and be around for Day Thirty-One. Or even Day Twenty-Five. It's not as if I have any reason to trust her on that ouster order... Step Two is going to be a lot harder than Step One. ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Opening shot: an outcast -- no, not literally, stop panicking -- Mary-Jane sleeping in the hammock, convinced no one can stand to have her in the shelter. She tosses, turns, cries to herself, and may have even gotten a tiny amount of sleep. At some point, Alex comes out to make sure she hasn't died on the beach, then turns around and goes right back. Time-lapse -- Day Twenty-Two dawns.} {Normal post-doom morning so far. Gardener gets the first confessional in: "This is my ass. This is the line. This is my ass on the line. You have no idea how uncomfortable sitting on this thing is." He decides to get some fishing in, mostly to avoid Angela's inevitable 'I took you, and I'm going to take the House next' speech.} {She probably will run for office some day. Admitting how good she is at lying can only hurt help her.} {Mary-Jane going on the Yanini Misery Tour. Phillip with some comforting words, although he doesn't believe Angela's master plan and what she said about him. "I appreciate what you're going through, but lying to me isn't going to swing anything. Just try to take it easy today -- you need to get your smile back."} {Gary taking things a lot better after a good night's sleep. Mary-Jane still isn't in a smiling mood, though -- lots of miserable words here. She screwed over Turare because she made a mistake, she screwed over Alex because she believed the wrong person, Alex hates her now... Gary trying to assure her that things will work out. Gary probably not believing a word that's coming out of his own mouth, but he's clearly worried about Mary-Jane here: she almost looks like she's on the verge of quitting just so she doesn't have to see the rest of this play out. That depressed. Gary advises her to do something she enjoys, and she decides to swim. Gary comes with her, probably to make sure she doesn't drown herself. This puts them in the lake with Tony, who brought his frisbee to use as a fruit plate, and we get a shot of a water frisbee game starting. Mary-Jane's pretending to feel better, and Tony's buying it -- but Tony will buy anything if it comes in a pretty package. Gary still seems to have some doubts.} {Angela invites Alex to a Go lesson -- okay, that's weird: we seldom hear about anything the players overhear from someone who isn't in the tribe...} {Alex with some good lines here, small cut after 'stupid', Angela confirms that Tony's just a stepping stone and she means to shatter him under her heel when all is said, done, and voted on, Alex decides to get the hell out of town before the nausea completely takes over.} {Angela with a nasty parting line there -- and we watch Alex leave camp with Jake. Great. Alex is going to be in a really rotten mood when she gets back, and she's in a bad enough one right now that we can actually see it...} {'Minds are the tools: hearts aren't.' Huh. I smell either foreshadowing or irony. What if Alex did win Tony away from Angela?} {Um... Alex has the potential tools, but not the talent. I don't think she's very good at seduction, and I really don't think she's Tony's physical type. Even if he's got some interest in her, Alex might have to wear -- shorts. I'm not sure she's up to the challenge.} {Following Alex... this is reminding me of something the editing thread said: she's not the narrator, but she is the guide. We see a lot of the island from her camera angles.} {Watch this -- she'll find the idol before they ever get the clue for it. 'Lucky' stumble to compensate for Tony's.} {It hasn't been planted yet.} {You haven't seen a single preview commercial, have you? If we're staying with her, it has to be for a reason -- I don't like this...} {Traveling shots -- we're at the Cliffs...} ----------------------------------------------------------------- I haven't sat on the edge of the Cliffs before. I do this time -- after testing the ground to make sure it's not going to give way under my weight. Safe enough, so I perch with my legs dangling over the edge and watch the ocean for a while. It's not helping. It certainly isn't helping Azure. She spent most of the walk back from Tribal Council headbutting me to get my attention: it seems to be her standard 'something's wrong: does this make it better?' action. I finally had to shoo her onto her perch -- five times -- to make it stop. She's happy just to be with me today, especially since I've been stroking her feathers for most of the walk, but she's not comfortable with all the salt in the air at the edge: a quick flight, and she starts wandering around the grass. I've been here for several minutes, and Jake is getting bored -- so bored that he's starting to wander around the grass a little himself, although he's careful to keep the lens trained on me. Good -- I want him bored. If he's inattentive, it'll be all that much easier to get away. I've shaken teachers, principals, truant officers, and worse. A camera operator isn't even going to be a challenge. I shrug at him. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not even remotely considering jumping." His lips pull back into a slight snarl. Mistake on my part: now I'll have to wait for him to become a little more bored before moving on. But as long as I've already irritated him... "I have no interest in making you or Connie happy." Connie seems to be on good terms with a few members of the crew: Jake is one of them. He may have filmed one of her confessionals -- I saw her taking off in a new direction two days ago, with him staying close. I'm not sure where the Haraiki assigned areas are, but Connie has to be filming something... "But I'm sure you'll let her know that." Back to quiet sitting. The ocean is beautiful here, each spray coming up the rock face a spontaneous one-time work of art. It's a warm morning -- maybe too warm: we may be heading into a heat wave. So far, I've been able to get away with my long sleeves and pants, relying on the thin cotton to keep me from overheating. If the temperature starts a serious climb, I'll be in trouble. At least it'll only be short-term for me, even if the heat hangs around for two weeks... Some consolation. Still, the morning is perfectly tolerable: clean air, clear sky, glorious water -- and me without my sketchbook or the mindset that'll let me draw any of it. Whatever. It doesn't mean I can't fail to appreciate it anyway. I like the look of the island, enjoy getting to capture it -- but everything is bittersweet at best today. It's not so much that I now know I'm going again as how I'll be going. I'll fight -- I'll make Angela and the rest of Haraiki work for it -- but I can't win every Immunity, and finding every idol is a lost cause as long as Tony's still up on his extremely sensitive feet. The Prince And The Idol. I wonder if he could pick it up through ten mats and a hundred mattresses -- "Over Here! Over Here!" Not now! The vocal end of that starts with a groan. "How can you be lost already?" She didn't fly down that long ago, did she? I push back from the Cliffs, making sure I'm a couple of feet from the edge before standing up. "It's your island, parrot: I'd think you'd know it by now..." Is there any chance she's still in sight? The sound came from almost directly behind me -- no flash of blue. Just a lot of exceptionally thick vegetation. Jake hangs back, looking amused as I approach the borderline. "Azure, here!" I didn't expect it to work and it didn't. It wouldn't have worked if I had been expecting it to. "Over Here! Over Here!" She does sound closer, though. And there's something else -- something pushing through the plants. Maybe Angela's wandered up here to continue our conversation. Maybe she brought the board. And maybe I can get myself thrown out of the game by pitching it over the Cliffs. "I get it," I mutter, "You're lost..." -- then, more loudly. "Azure, I'm getting sick of this." Not that she cares. Not she probably can care. There's definitely someone in there with her, though. Tony coming up in ambush for another hug -- that was a branch snapping back -- something moving, but the sounds are low, maybe there's knees hitting things and of course our legs brush against the ground plants constantly when we're off the main trails, but all the sounds are low... Something's wrong. My street sense, dormant for weeks now, lack of need, is starting to go off. Something's wrong here... I don't know what, why, or how. The air doesn't feel right any more, the noises are too indistinct and too low, hard to make out over Azure's increasingly loud cries, but something is wrong... I take a step back without thinking about it, about two feet away from the borderline, that much closer to the edge of the Cliffs, eyes going down to try and make out what my ears can't quite register -- -- yellow-green, pale, black in the center grown large from hunger for light, luminous for just a fraction of a second in a stray shaft of sunlight, the sound of a breath, something else snapping back, Azure screaming her call -- -- another step backwards. Which is why I don't immediately die. It erupts from the border, six feet long, claws out, short black fur with most of the sleekness gone, thin enough to see ribs underneath as it arcs through the air, the claws are out, Azure still screaming "Over Here!" as she comes out behind it and I realize that it was never about being lost, never about calling people to come and find her, it was about calling someone to come and get what she had found -- -- I can't duck in time, can't get to the side, but I can see where its open jaws are aimed: not for my neck, but for my head, and I remember something I never thought I knew with no time to remember it in: jaguars don't normally go for the throat, they crush the skull bones with powerful jaw muscles and get the instant kill. My body reacts before I can think about doing it, ducks backwards, gets under the arc, the jaguar misses, there's a human voice screaming and I don't think it's mine, Jake is yelling, light glinting off the camera lens just visible at the corner of my falling vision, I've lost my balance going backwards and I'm falling to the ground, can't get my arms back in time -- -- the jaguar lands, I can see it upside-down even as the pain registers in my rear and upper back, just kept my head off the ground but now momentum is catching up. Skinny, horribly skinny, and why shouldn't it be? There's nothing for it to eat here. It's been running through the mammals of the island, killing things that would normally be too small for it to consider just to stay alive, we never see any mammals because it's been eating them all, something has to be desperate to try and eat a human, but it's there now, it's recovering fast, I scramble, I turn around on my back, I need to see what it's doing, I need to get into position for a kick -- -- Azure's screaming, she won't stop -- -- weapon, I need a weapon, any weapon -- -- humanity's first resort. We don't have natural weapons, don't have the claws, sharp teeth, driving muscles. Brains, only brains, and they drove us to compensate for our body's weaknesses, take the world and make it into something we could use. Builders, all of us creators, it means nothing in one-on-one confrontations like this, I'm small and weak and I'm going to die -- -- Azure. Hunter's parrot. Trained. Nothing to lose. Gasping, still spinning, still trying to get my legs into position for the futile kick. "Azure -- kill!" And she screeches, goes up over my head, swoops down just like a falcon, aiming for the eyes, and the jaguar doesn't know how to deal with it. It's growling, almost roaring, trying to get back on its rear paws to fend her off, but Azure's fast and it's old and slow: she can't get in because of its attempts, but it can't get her either. But it's trying, and it may succeed. The paws are coming so close to the wings, all it has to do is get half a swipe in and it'll drive her to the ground, Azure will die, my hand is going up to my throat, I just used another living thing as a weapon and she's going to die because I didn't think of her as anything more than that -- "Leave her alone!" The jaguar turns at the sound of my scream, doesn't flee, far too hungry to run from something as simple as a human voice, it must have finally run out of mammals and I was the smallest, weakest meal left, looks at me with renewed interest as it ignores Azure's wings beating at its head, I'm calling her off, I must have found the right words because she zooms out or maybe she's just going up for a power dive, hand yanking at the chain, the wrong hand, I need the other, stronger one to fend it off because it's about to leap again and -- -- the moment flashpoints, burns into my brain forever at the moment when forever is down to a few last seconds. The jaguar's head tilted down, jaws moving in at the bottom of its pounce arc. My left arm, ramming up into its rib cage, trying to hold it back. Legs not connecting hard enough on the double-kick: the rest of its body up too high. Right hand, the off-hand, the one that shouldn't have the practice, orientation, anything, moving up. The cross in my hand, gripped by the two side tines, top one sticking through my fingers, long end out. Piercing the jaguar's eye. Fluid erupting out. My mouth open, screaming something wordless, something primal that I can't understand, receiving some of it. The taste of salt. The roar, pain and anger, but too hungry, still too hungry, it can't back off because doing so means starving to death. The head rearing back automatically from the agony, jaws averted for a second, turning away -- but the claws out, slashing across my raised left arm -- -- fire, burning, cloth penetrated, skin flayed in an instant, blood flying out to soak everything, some of my blood is spraying into my eyes, I can't hear anything over my own scream, the pain hits and I can't ignore it, can't block it, it triggers the wrong thing and I drop the cross, the remaining momentum throws it out of sight -- -- Azure, talons clawing at the back of the jaguar's head, more feline roars, but it still won't leave, still needs my death more than anything -- -- trying to get away, but legs just visible there: Jake still present, still filming, blocking that route. Doesn't matter: can't get to my feet, can't concentrate enough when my left arm feels like it's about to fall off below the elbow, no weapons left but useless fists and feet and teeth -- -- I may never draw again -- -- two predators, staring at each other across the grass as Azure goes up to get speed. We have an agreement, we are in harmony. Two of the apex predators on the planet, in complete synchronization with each other's thoughts. It wants me dead. I want it dead. It may kill me. It may have done so already, blood continuing to fountain from my ruined arm -- -- if I go, you go with me. One weapon left. I scoot backwards as fast as I can, the jaguar moving more slowly, lining up. It only knows one thing: pounce. Get lined up, leap, bite. It's worked for thousands of generations. That's why it's still here. Pick a tactic and stick with it. Humans make it up as they go along, that's why we're still here -- -- the sound of the camera filming, oddly loud in my roaring ears -- -- we're about to see whose technique works better -- -- ocean getting louder, at the edge, this is where I need to be, had just enough time, the edges of my torn skin burning from the outside-in as the jaguar leaps again -- -- arms still willing to respond, at least for the few seconds I have left, both hands still capable of gripping, I've always been stronger than anyone wants to believe and I manage to get its paws at the ankles, keep the claws up, keep it from driving its teeth into my head, but my legs can only help to hold it back, I can't push it up and over my body, not even adding speed to speed at the point of impact, it's too heavy, all I can do is stop it, and my strength will run out fast, it's old and hungry and tired, but it was designed to kill and it won't stop -- -- so was I. Neither will I. Didn't think I could get it over on a straight flip. Too big, too heavy, too much pain interfering with the effort, stupid pain, I know something's wrong, you've sent the alert signal, the alarm that keeps me from being able to think about the alarm, stupid body -- -- but all the pain is about to stop -- -- keep my grip on the front paws, let my own legs drop, jaguars aren't designed for primary ripping and tearing with back claws, it won't think of it, not for a crucial second, it's still trying to get at my head, push, push hard, let the jaguar get a little closer, smell its rancid breath, see the bits of meat among its teeth, push more, one back paw just hooked its claws into my shoe, no pain but I feel the pull as it gets tangled in the laces, doesn't matter, push -- -- and the ground goes away. I hear the roar as the jaguar realizes what's happened, tries to twist, but I won't let it, I have its front paws, I let momentum, helpful at last, bring it under me and try to keep it that way, you're not going to land on your feet this time!, I can feel it writhing to free itself and get its spine to move, save itself, but it's just a second to do so, a second where I have the strength to keep my grip for just long enough -- -- and we'll reach the sea-splashed boulders at the bottom of the Cliffs together, the jaguar hits first -- -- shockwave, the pain in my arm vanishing in the midst of the explosion, match consumed in the inferno -- -- you always let them know you were there -- ----------------------------------------------------------------- {ALEX!!!} {She -- she hit the water. She must have hit the water...} {There's virtually nothing but rocks down there! She might have, but it would have been a one in a million shot! She --} {Jake's moving -- camera's turning to look down --} {-- please, no, please...} {...no.} ----------------------------------------------------------------- After ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Survivor Secret Scene from The Early Show, shown on Friday morning.} {We are looking straight down the Cliffs, and the shot is zooming in. Unlike the previous night's broadcast, the image is completely unedited: there's an extremely tiny time/date stamp in one corner, as well as a display of power remaining near the indication that the camera is, in fact, recording. JAKE may have forgotten this: he's using it simply for the zoom feature. We start near the top of the Cliffs, perhaps a little below the upper surface -- JAKE may be lying on his stomach here -- where we can see ALEX's body, lying on top of the jaguar's -- which is in turn sprawled across one of the largest rocks.} {The image zooms down, and we can see more detail now. The jaguar is not moving, not breathing, blood trickling from its mouth, back splayed across the stone in a perfect fit, more blood streaming out from where the skin seems to have split under the impact. It is clearly dead.} {AZURE suddenly flies down, swooping across the shot, and winds up standing next to ALEX's head, making strange sounds of distress as she repeatedly knocks her beak into ALEX's right temple. ALEX is not moving. We can't tell if she's breathing. Blood flows from her mutilated left forearm, making it impossible to see the actual cuts, mixing with the jaguar's blood as the red current slides over the rock. A small wave hits the black boulder, sends a spray up briefly before it falls to the stone, washing away some of the blood -- but there's still red streaked across the boulder, and more coming out every second. AZURE doesn't flee from the spray, keeps crying out, and now she's back to words: 'Man down! Man down!' ALEX doesn't respond.} {JAKE is breathing very hard. For a few seconds, it's almost all we can hear -- and then the view jerks up, as if he had gotten to his feet in a hurry. We're looking at the Cliffs path now -- and then there's the sound of running footsteps as the view quickly slides past. The screen briefly turns black --} {-- and we're back. The image is being shot from standing height: JAKE is slowly approaching the edge of the Cliffs from the Challenge Beach side of the trail. The time index indicates twenty-two minutes have passed. Slowly, we come closer -- and then a jump cut: looking down at the boulder again. AZURE is gone. ALEX's body is gone. The jaguar's corpse is gone. There are still some faint traces of red on the stone, but they're being progressively washed away with each new wave. Soon, all the evidence will have been obliterated.} {JAKE's voice is just barely audible.} "She jumped -- I can say she jumped... no one will argue, I can edit what's in the camera, she was talking about jumping..." {Sharper, stronger -- satisfied.} "She deserved it anyway, the stupid little freak..." {More softly.} "Got to do something about the grass -- no knives, no blades, can't say she cut herself first..." {The camera zooms in, watches the last of the blood being removed by the steady pounding of the ocean current. Scene ends.} -----------------------------------------------------------------   Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Subject     Author     Message Date     ID    RE: Survivor: The Society Islands:... cahaya 09-18-06 1  RE: Survivor: The Society Islands:... Colonel Zoidberg 09-19-06 2  RE: Survivor: The Society Islands:... azkate 09-19-06 3  Whoa... ohmyheck 09-19-06 4  The Following Episode Contains Scen... Estee 09-20-06 5    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... cahaya 09-21-06 6    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... azkate 09-21-06 7    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... ohmyheck 09-22-06 8    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... Belle Book 01-10-09 15  The Following Episode Contains Scen... Estee 09-22-06 9  The Following Episode Contains Scen... Estee 09-25-06 10    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... Belle Book 02-19-10 17  The Following Episode Contains Scen... Estee 09-25-06 11    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... cahaya 09-25-06 12        RE: The Following Episode Contains ... Estee 09-27-06 14    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... azkate 09-26-06 13    RE: The Following Episode Contains ... Belle Book 01-10-09 16

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cahaya 14104 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-18-06, 11:36 PM (EST) 1. "RE: Survivor: The Society Islands: Episode #8: The Following Episode Contains Scenes..." So much for thinking Connie caused those scars. And there's no way Alex is getting medivac'ed out on permanent injury reserve, either! Foo dogs by Tribe Jake should be shot, and not with a camera.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 09-19-06, 08:35 AM (EST) 2. "RE: Survivor: The Society Islands: Episode #8: The Following Episode Contains Scenes..." LAST EDITED ON 09-19-06 AT 08:35 AM (EST) Wow...on one hand, that was intense...I would say that's more intense than my Episode 10...on the other hand, now I want to know how it ends... And on a third hand, it looks like you might have an answer to Maria from my story...   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

azkate 239 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Network TV Show Guest Star" 09-19-06, 12:32 PM (EST) 3. "RE: Survivor: The Society Islands: Episode #8: The Following Episode Contains Scenes..." Wow. Just wow. Keep at it Estee! I can't wait for more! another tribe work of art   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

ohmyheck 1919 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser" 09-19-06, 05:41 PM (EST) 4. "Whoa..." I did not see that coming. Estee, this is better than at least 9 seasons of the REAL Survivor. Keep it coming.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-20-06, 05:39 PM (EST) 5. "The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part II" LAST EDITED ON 09-21-06 AT 07:33 PM (EST) During ----------------------------------------------------------------- ...if you're wrong... Something -- something hurts. Maybe everything hurts. Too many sensations to sort them out. Too many precincts reporting in, all of them with sirens at full blare. ...can I kill you? If you're wrong, are you willing to die for it? If you're right... ...and you make a decision, go over the cliff... Wet. Something against my left cheek. Could be fur. Don't know fur very well: no pets, not much chance to interact with animals. The neighborhood companions like me well enough, wag tails or make the expecting begging sounds when they see me go by. But I don't get close, don't pick them up, no snuggling my face against a warm coat. Can barely keep myself fed and sheltered: can't take responsibility for another life. Everything does hurt. My left arm is burning. Salt in the wound... ...what happened? Something knocking against my head. Go away. I'm not home. Leave a message at the sound of the beep and I'll never get back to you. Was -- on the Cliffs -- and then -- ...I should be dead. I died... No tunnel of light. No welcoming chorus of voices, no stench of brimstone or heat of flames. Everything had just -- stopped. There was no pain any more. There was no anything. Quiet. Peaceful. I almost miss it -- -- too much pain to be a dream, even for phantom psychosomatics created by an overactive imagination with a direct link to the nervous system. And the feel of salt water splashing across my face: good luck conjuring that one up... ...I open my eyes just in time to have some of the ocean splash into them. "OW!" My body just confirmed a successful reboot, but it wants to report operating errors and lots of them. Everything that isn't my left forearm is battered, and the cushioning of the fur didn't help much. Just enough. Just barely enough. I am lying on top of a dead black jaguar, six feet long, with one pierced eye and skin rent in several places from the impact. It's bleeding sluggishly now: no working heart to force pressure into the fluid. I'm in considerably better shape. I'm breathing. Azure's eyes lock onto mine and she screams something wordless, something that could almost be triumph, before nestling her head against me. Slowly, I move my left hand to stroke her feathers -- -- mistake. I can now see my left arm, or at least what's visible of it through the bloodstained cloth. There are places where I can't tell where the fabric ends and my skin begins. The rents seem deep, too deep, the blood is flowing slowly and part of that may be clotting, but some of it may just be that my heart isn't going all that fast right now, or there may not be that much left to push out -- -- trying not to scream, trying so hard -- -- but it doesn't matter. Because my arm looks like a ruin, looks like it's five seconds from writing off the rest of my body as a bad job and parting company forever -- but my hand moved. I rotate it, manipulate the fingers, put all the joints through the full range of their motion while the blood gets a chance to soak up my sleeve, arm raised in front of my face. Everything's working. I can feel the air, can feel the surface of the boulder when I finally lower it again. No nerve damage. Somehow, no nerve damage. I can still draw. Assuming I don't bleed to death in the next five minutes. I try to sit up. The boulder is slippery: I have to stay on the jaguar's body just for traction. It's a female. I wonder why I didn't notice that earlier. There's pain, but there's not enough pain. I may be going into shock. That should be interesting. I've heard a lot about it. People are always going into shock on television. It looks like I'm going to find out what it's like firsthand. So far, it's not all that bad. Anything that turns down the dial on the pain meter has to have something going for it. I have to stop the flow... Obviously I'm not that deep yet, because I was capable of thinking that... Azure looks up at me, her eyes bright. "Got It! Got It!" I stare at her. I look at the jaguar. Dead. It's dead and I killed it -- -- and that's when the scream comes. "I got you, you stupid bitch! I got you!" It's not very loud, not very strong -- but it's there, and for one horrible moment, I'm not completely sure who I'm talking to... ...look up the Cliffs. This must be making for one hell of a shot. Even Jake couldn't miss this one -- -- wrong. He's not there. No one's there. It's just me and Azure. No more cameras. I'm alone. Jake... ...something about Jake... I need to stop the bleeding. My buff is -- ruined. Torn, rent, reborn as a series of fabric slivers. But that's just on the side where the claws hit. If I don't pull against the tears, there should be enough left to wrap around my left bicep. Right hand and teeth: if I can just pull it tight enough, I should be okay, as long as I don't die in the middle of it. Work carefully, get it unwound, try not to think about how slippery the surface is on some of the things I'm touching, how much it hurts to touch, don't look... But it's just the forearm. My hand works. I can live with the rest, if I live at all. I get the buff off, look it over. The wrapping was fairly thick around my arm, thicker than the fabric of the blouse underneath it. The reason I have a working hand is because I had just that much extra protection, a little bit more resistance to slow the claws down. I wear the buff on my left forearm because of Azure... "Good parrot..." Wrap. Carefully. Not easy work to do on myself: whatever degree of shock I'm in isn't helping and the buff does wind up tearing a little more, but it goes on. The bleeding seems to be slowing even more. Either I've done it right or it won't matter. "Azure... shoulder..." The arm is out. She obediently flies up and takes her perch. I look around a little more. I didn't get much distance on my arc going off the Cliffs: it was pretty much straight down. I did manage to hit one of the largest boulders, about ten feet wide by fourteen across. The ocean was a complete miss, although it's still doing a pretty good job of hitting me with every new wave. The stinging in my eyes will not go away. But I can still see perfectly well -- and the narrow spit of beach doesn't look like it's all that far away. This is the shallows, isn't it? I should be able to wade across, then get onto the sand and stay there. Theoretically, following the beach will bring me back to camp. There's no way to be sure -- no one's come out to the Cliffs from the low side, at least not that they've said, one stone outcropping or really big boulder and I'm in trouble -- but it'll be a lot easier than trying to get up the Cliffs. Which is to say, the low route might be possible. Just a few feet through the water, and... ...I look at the jaguar. Softly, "You wanted to eat me?" Ultimate revenge promised in a whisper. "I'm going to eat you." It was hungry. I'm hungry. I won. Eating this thing is probably going to be the single biggest 'screw you' I could ever deliver. It's probably an endangered species and I'll get into trouble for it when I get home, but guess what? There's hundreds of jaguars and only one of me. I'm more endangered than it is. Someone should be starting a fund to protect me. Save The Alex. They can hold an annual wade-a-thon. My brain doesn't seem to be very interested in making sense. Maybe I should get moving... I slide down the boulder as carefully as I can, but lose control on the slippery downslope while trying to go around the feces: the jaguar voided its bowels when it died. Not that the bad landing matters very much, because the water only comes up to my waist. Azure shivers on my shoulder, but stays with me. Wet feathers. I wonder if birds can catch colds. "I wish you had more lifting power..." She could fly me back. For that matter, she could help carry the jaguar. I reach up and grip its back paws, pull. No way to carry it across my shoulders, even if Azure's willing to walk: too heavy. Skinny and old and on the brink of starvation which really doesn't matter any more because hungry isn't exactly a concern for it right now, but it still weighs at least as much as I do. Probably more. I think I can drag it, though. If you kill as a predator, you do what predators do: eat the results. I pull harder -- there, it's moving -- -- through the water, onto the beach, walking backwards, dragging the jaguar across the sand, white turning red in the groove... "Azure?" She turns to look at me. "I'm sorry..." Which she doesn't understand. Sits like a falcon, attacks like a falcon, scouts. Maybe blood loss and shock are good for intuitive thought. Someone should probably write a self-help book about that. Have your arm torn to ribbons, have all sorts of fascinating realizations. Imagine the billionaire. I'm getting a pretty good picture of him, although it's based far too much on Teddy Roosevelt. He knows everything about hunting, the history, the techniques, what does and doesn't work. One day, he starts thinking about the various species of hunting birds and how they've been trained to help humans. They move fast, they bring down small game. But that's all they do. And I can easily imagine him sitting by the fire one day (he would love to sit by fires, because fire is life: just ask Jeff), and slowly saying "What if I had a bird that could report back?" So -- Azure. Look for a parrot, one of the talkers, the most intelligent one you could find or breed. Maybe it was the work of years just to get the point where he had a suitable candidate, maybe he walked into a pet shop and got lucky. Train her. Recognition. Situational responses. On this command, come back and tell me what you saw, then lead me to it. On another, stay where you are and yell for me: I'll come see what you've found. Desmond triggering a quick aerial search on the beach. Complicated stuff. Maybe she got it wrong sometimes. But he would have kept trying, because the dream was too strong to deny. And there were days when she got it right, and did better with each successive hunt -- -- and then something happened. It's getting warmer. And then it's getting colder. And then it starts to alternate. Very weird weather on this island. And there's an odd glint in the sand, something metallic. Maybe it's one of the shotgun shell casings Jeff said the crew had been finding. I guess I can come back and check it out later. The billionaire dies: no one knows how. But there was a hunt in progress. Say he was out in the field. He'd just brought the jaguar in, told Azure to find it and call for him when she spots it, and -- he dies. Maybe it's the jaguar, maybe it's something else. The key is that the jaguar is on the island and Azure is in the jungle. The servants run. The jaguar stays. It's not in immediate trouble. Yanini is still occupied by prey it can hunt, even if it has to work to a smaller, more frequent scale than usual. But gradually, over the years, it starts to depopulate the land. It can't leave a next generation to grow up and be large enough to make a full meal: it's hungry. It can't leave the island: it can't swim that far. It doesn't dare go near the humans after they arrive: maybe there's bad memories there, or maybe it's just that humans aren't the best prey: we probably smell bad, taste bad. Man-eaters are very rare, I read that somewhere. The lions of Tsavo -- and that's about it. They need to get the taste somehow, be insane -- or be hungry enough not to care anymore -- -- and smell blood. I'm in the center of my cycle. Humans can't pick that up on scent. A jaguar? Maybe a hundred or more feet away. Maybe that was part of it, maybe it wasn't. But -- you're starving. You've eaten most of the island. Everything left is too small, too fast, taught to run away whenever it hears anything large moving through the plants. You're paranoid, because there are humans here again. You're avoided them so far, because you're scared. It's a big island, you're only one jaguar, and you hide in the shadows very well. They could overlook you, especially if you stayed in the areas where the grass was too thick to spot footprints. The riverbank -- it must have been just off to the side of the mud, on the more solid ground. It ran because there were too many people and it wasn't desperate enough yet. Or it made the kill in the grass, and the blood just spurted out that way. The clearing -- the only mud around was present because the blood was soaking the soil, too firm otherwise, and for the rest of the island, how much time do any of us spend that far away from the trails and looking down...? That shadow looks like the entrance to a cave. Good. If there's any idol clues involving caves, I've got the hunt beat. Someone should really be shooting that view. Maybe I should tell a camera operator later. Definitely not Jake. You're a predator, and you're among the best in the world in fulfilling that function. But you're running out of prey. You can't get enough food to feed yourself. Some of these humans aren't so big. If you strike fast enough, you could get one and drag it away. But you'd have to be desperate -- -- and then, one day, you smell blood. The jaguar is gaining weight. Things seem to do that on this island. I glance behind me. Progress is being made. I've lost track of just how many steps I've taken. There are times when the sand blurs, seems to shimmer into a solid glassy surface. Drops of my blood fall onto it, sit as round hemispheres before they boil in place. Years in between for the jaguar, and for Azure. Still out in the jungle. She can't always track the jaguar: she has to find food, she has to survive, and maybe she looks for the billionaire, tries to get into the closed mansion, looks for a friend who isn't there any more. But some days, she locates it again and whenever she does, she cries out for several minutes, sounding the call she was taught to give, waiting for someone to respond. Eventually, for anyone to respond. Then the humans come back, but she's in the wrong place to see them. They miss her, she misses them: easy enough to do. The jaguar starts moving towards our side of the island. She finds it, follows, watches it make a kill, tries to report back -- -- and I show up. Any port in a storm. Any forearm after years alone. Anyone who would have walked in would have been the master. I walk in, and Azure has someone to report back to. My knees buckle, and I nearly crash into the sand. Azure squawks at me, annoyed by the sudden drop, but there isn't much I can do about it. My shoulders hurt. I have been dragging more than my own weight for -- I don't know for how long. I turn my head, wait for the world to stop spinning. I'm on black sand now, and -- yes, there's the hammock. Somewhere along the way, I crossed the sand color line, and I'm on our beach. Gardener isn't in the water any more. No one else is here. But there's our trail entrance. It's not much further. Stand up, grip the paws more tightly, drag. Slowly... The pain is becoming more distant. I should be worried about that. I can't seem to find any room for it. I'm wondering what the others will say when I walk into camp. Connie will probably try to have me thrown off the island over the endangered species thing. Tough. Jeff said we could hunt the mammals. More nagging thoughts. Something about the cliff, something about dying -- -- something about Jake... ...that isn't important... ...it's a slight uphill to the start of the trail. It feels like climbing the Cliffs all over again. But I'm dragging the corpse along the path -- and I'm starting to hear the people in camp. They must be very loud if I can hear them this clearly from this far out. I don't think I can yell loudly enough to get over their volume. I'm not sure I can yell at all. "You know what you've convinced me of, Angela?" Gardener, clearly angry about something. "You've convinced me that losing Immunity isn't such a bad thing. At least once I'm on the jury, I'll only have to listen to you for a few hours every three days!" Angela really doesn't care. "Fine. Throw the next challenge and I'll make sure to give you that wish. Freedom of speech still applies out here -- if you don't like what I'm saying, you can leave any time." Mary-Jane, and I can just barely make her out: her voice is much softer and weaker than usual. "Guys, don't fight -- things are bad enough without fighting..." Gardener's snort drowns out anything that might be coming after that. "Bad enough for you, is that it? Can't fault you for making a play, Mary-Jane, can be pissed off for screwing me over in the process. You couldn't even help the one you were trying to bring along, from what Gary said. Gotta give her credit: Alex is taking this a hell of a lot better than I would have. She's just decided you don't exist. I'm still stuck on wishing for it." Phillip now. "We've got to live together here. The next couple of weeks are going to be rough, but they don't have to be bad." Half a plea, half an attempt to stop this now. Not before Robin gets her piece in, though. "As much fun as it is watching you two look for reasons to kill each other, it's really wreaking havoc with my attempts to get some limbering done. I keep throwing something in my neck turning around to see who's going to throw the first punch." Gary. "Jeff would say to save it for the challenges. Angela, Gardener -- this is getting ridiculous on both ends." Harsh criticism coming from him. "Angela, we recognize that Gardener's on the other end of the political spectrum from you, but he's also on the other side of the listening one. I know this man: he has ears connected to his brain. I swear every time he's started to agree with you, the first response on your end is to make sure he can't any more. If that's your idea of debate, there's no point in having any -- and Gardener, you should know better than to follow." Angela starts to protest, but Gardener cuts her off. He's very irritated. "I know you're the dad here, Gary, and I know you're talking to me like you would to one of your kids. Just don't make me feel like Desmond, okay? I'm trying to stay out of it, but this one keeps following me --" -- and all the sound stops. Oh. Oak tree. I just crossed the border into the clearing. I guess they've seen me. Drop the jaguar's paws, turn around, check -- yes, they're all looking at me. Everyone. Apparently they all got back to camp while I was away: we've got the full tribe here and practically the complete camera compliment. Every gaze is locked onto me, virtually every lens has followed suit. About twenty faces, nineteen in nearly identical expressions of horror, one completely blank. I understand the blank look from Connie. She can't be openly happy: the jaguar didn't win. I don't understand the horror. "Phillip..." Did that come out with enough volume? I barely heard me: I'm not sure about the others, surely the tide rushing through my ears is drowning everything out -- no, he picked it up, he's starting to move. "...you said you know how to gut animals... can you do this one? I'm not sure how to clean out the intestines..." Although I gave him a head start on getting the skin open -- oh, great: there went my knees again, now I have to look even farther up at everyone, or would if I could raise my head... It doesn't surprise me that the first sound breaking the new silence belongs to Gardener, but I don't know if I'm having trouble understanding it, or if there's nothing there to be understood. At first, there doesn't seem to be any words, just a cry that could be anger, could even be anguish if the shock is really deep enough to see it that way, could even be some of a lion's roar, and it's soon joined by gasps and cries and single syllables that jumble into each other, not making any sense. But the first word I can pick out also belongs to Gardener, and it's not going to be denied by anything so simple as shock and blood loss. It cuts through the closing fog, gains volume as it picks up speed, drives into my ears and burns the haze away. "Medic!" ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Everyone, calm down! We know she's okay! For those two hundred of you who just registered right after the commercial break started so you could scream in panic in a public forum, let me give you the quick update. We've had spoilers: people have seen her since she left the show. She's alive, she's been on CNN, and that's a very long story and I don't have time to tell you the whole thing. But Alex is definitely not dead. She may have spent a couple of months in the hospital after that, but she is not dead. As soon as they come back from break, we're probably going to hear Jake -- that's her camera operator on that footage -- calling in for medical help, and the next thing we'll see is the boat coming to get her. Alex is out of the game, but not out of existence. All right? Take a few deep breaths and just wait it out.} {you're sure? people have really seen her?} {I made a UPS delivery to her apartment. She's very alive.} {We don't need to hear about your crush right now -- no, actually, go ahead. Maybe it'll help stop the screaming.} {Kind of hard to keep updating your site when you're dead, although appearing on CNN is a lot easier...} {This is the longest commercial break in the history of time.} {Her face -- she went off the cliff on purpose...} {*nods* Yeah. She did. She had one move left. When she couldn't throw it over, she had to go down with it. There were a couple of moments when the camera was all over the place, but I'm almost sure I saw the thing's claws hooked into her shoe...} {What was that? They said there were no big animals left on the island!} {Black panther. An old one. And they were wrong.} {Black jaguar.} {It's interchangeable, okay?} {Oh. My. God. The Tarot reading!} {Come again?} {Don't you see? Alex just went off the edge of a cliff! She made a decision and sent herself off -- and it led to death! We know the jaguar didn't make it through the fall! The Fool and Death cards, right there! Trina had it! We just knocked the second and third cards off the reading in one shot. My God, the reading is real...} {No -- no, you're just seeing things into it that aren't really there...} {Bull. I know what I just saw. That hand isn't just in play, it's running the damn show! Want to make me a bet about getting cider spit in your eye? Here's mine: Alex is not leaving on a medivac. Alex is going to stay in the game. Why? Because she's still got cards left to run and she can't get through all of them from the jury seats. Want to take me up on it? I'll bet anything I've got against anything you've got. Say the word and shake virtual hands on it, because I've got a sure thing. Trina's reading was a true one, Alex's future is in the images of that deck, and she's still got cards left to run. The reading was about what happens in the game. We're not running through three cards and hitting Judgment by the end of this episode. Alex stays. In fact, I'm going to say it right now: Alex: Final Four. What have you got? Whatever it is, I'll have it by the end of the episode.} {...no bet.} {You people can't believe this is real. Cole's life is not being run by witchcraft...} {Would you feel better if we said Trina had a divine gift? Prophecy is all over the Bible. Maybe you should read it sometime. Oh, and congratulations on ruining your image forever.} {What are you talking about?} {I remember you said you were on a voice program because you talk faster than you type. A few of us are. And when that happened -- the first thing you did was scream her first name.} {...I don't want to see her hurt. I said that.} {Too late. Here's your official LOA sigpic rider. Welcome to the Legion Of Alex -- you bleeding-heart secular humanist liberal, you...} ----------------------------------------------------------------- Medic? No! If Medical shows up, they'll take me out of the game! "No... I'm okay..." Maybe that would have been a lot more convincing if I'd been able to lift my head to look at them when I said it. Right now, I'm just in a position to see two very large hands coming in fast -- -- and then I'm lifted, a startled Azure flying ahead. Cradled against a broad chest, the way I've seen some people carry babies. Homespun colors: Phillip. Someone's got me... "Let go..." Too weak. He'll probably ignore it. He is ignoring it. He's running with me, heading for the shelter, sound is erupting all around us, someone is calling for Medical: I can hear the send/receive beeps. I'm going to go out. I don't want to go. "Let go of me..." "Easy, Alex -- easy..." Very soft, very gentle. To a nearby camera operator, "She's shivering... she's in shock." No, I'm struggling, put me down! Which he does, easing me onto a pallet, which Azure has to clear off first. Okay, that's better. Everything seems clearer on the horizontal, maybe because the blood doesn't have to fight for the uphill. "I've got to get this sleeve off you -- we have to see the wounds..." Angela's been knocked out of her comfort zone again. "...Phillip? What are you doing?" Because Phillip is not supposed to be in charge here, and as for calling off the start of medical needs, well, she was probably just hallucinating that. "I've seen worse," Phillip firmly says. And a single word: "Threshers." Apparently it's meant to explain everything. His hands go up, grip the sleeve just below the buff, pull. The fabric wisely doesn't put up a fight. I'll have to make up for it. "No -- you're not taking anything off..." Naturally, he gets it wrong. "I'll leave the tourniquet, Alex -- promise." Gardener's face comes into view, and he is angry. What did I do? Did he see the jaguar earlier and want it for himself? Mary-Jane crowding in, kneeling on the other side of the pallet. And she's taking my shoes off! My feet aren't hurt! "Hey..." That's it. This entire game is about people trying to get my clothes off. She squeezes my feet. It's a weird sensation. "Stay with me..." Oh. She's trying to distract me so I don't pass out. Give my body something else to focus on. Probably a good idea because right now, the pain is registering as a lightning strike in the distance: loud, powerful, and probably deadly to anything in the vicinity, but of no direct interest to me. Regardless, I kick a little. "Stop it..." She doesn't. Azure squawks, but that gets ignored too. Phillip's very careful about removing the sleeve, soaking the fabric with boiled water to make it peel away gently from the dried blood and the places where it had gone into the wound. "Some of this may start again, but we've got to get the foreign material out... good Lord." And the sound of a body hitting the ground. Robin, disgusted. "Make that double Medical. Tony just fainted." Then "Christ, Alex, what did you do?" "I think that's pretty damn obvious." Gardener, and yes, he's very angry. "Alex, where's Jake?" Huh? "Don't know... he wasn't there when I woke up..." Cameron: "His radio isn't answering." Gardener's oddly satisfied with this. "Good. Stop trying to call him. How long until we get Medical?" Twelve minutes -- and I can just see a watch being passed over to Gardener, so he can keep track of how long twelve minutes is. I'm the one with the injury: shouldn't I get the watch? I can wear it: the wounds stop short of my left wrist. Cameron, very softly. "You're thinking what I'm thinking. I know you are." Gardener nods. "Yeah." It would nice if they shared it with me. "Guys...?" Gary's made his way in. "Alex, you need to be quiet -- you have to save your strength -- I don't like the look of your face: you've lost a lot of blood." I saved my strength enough to get some volume into this one. "I don't want Medical." Which gets everyone's attention. "I'm not going." Gardener snorts, and it comes across as a tinge of amusement in the anger. "It's not your decision." He leans in. "Phillip, I'm better with bruises and breaks -- what do you think?" Phillip's carefully washing my arm. "Skin's a mess. Muscle's intact. It got the dermis and some of the fatty tissue underneath. She's going to have some major scarring -- Alex, can you move your hand?" What does he mean, it's not my decision? It's my body! Desmond refused treatment -- why don't I get the same right? I don't want to go! "Yeah -- first thing I did... full range, full control, sensation..." I demonstrate a little. See? I have a working hand. That means I can stay. I can even stroke feathers. Maybe someone can move Azure closer so I can show off. Mary-Jane's voice sounds very weak. "Scarring?" Right, that would be her nightmare. Connie hasn't said a word yet. I can't see her anywhere. Phillip exhales. "Lucky, lucky girl... that's your drawing arm, I know... the Lord was watching out for you on that one." Uh-huh. Odd memory spark: "I tried to hit the ground and missed." Which gets a faint, strangely disconnected chuckle from Angela. Cameron perks up. "Revised ETA -- nine minutes." And then says something very quiet into his radio. "Good," Gardener firmly says. "Alex, all offense intended: shut up. I want you to save all your strength for not bleeding." I want to protest the order, but before I can, Phillip gives the words I want to hear. "I think most of this is just injury shock and blood loss. If they stitch you up and give you a few pints..." He trails off as he goes back to working, but I can imagine the rest. ...then maybe I don't have to go. I close my eyes and try to feel relief. Which freaks out Mary-Jane. "Alex!" "I'm okay..." All right, can't do that. I open them again. Robin's voice is some distance away. "Damn -- what did you do to this thing?" Pause. "What is this thing?" Much shorter pause. "And are there more of them?" Gary takes the last two. "Black jaguar. Doubt it. And Alex, don't answer the rest of that... Stay quiet. It won't be much longer." Much longer until I find out if I'm out of the game or not. The others come into the shelter, so do a few people on the camera crew, the place is getting crowded. Robin's looking at me with -- well -- I'm not sure. It could be admiration. Angela has absolutely no idea what's going on or how to handle it. Gary and Phillip are staying close. Gardener's still angry. Mary-Jane remains by my feet. Connie is nowhere to be found: maybe that's my special Reward for beating the jaguar challenge. Tony's been propped up against a tree. Time passes -- I regard Gardener's loaned watch with some interest -- and in just over seven minutes, footsteps thunder into the clearing. "All right, clear out -- give us some room!" No Australian accent: I guess he's not on shift. Harsher, more clipped. Could be German. Almost a mane of grey hair, thick mustache, well-trimmed beard. "Alex, how are you doing?" The others start to move out of the shelter: Mary-Jane, Gardener, and two camera operators stay. Someone shoos Azure out of the shelter. Probably worried about dirty feathers or something. Stupid: she's a very clean bird. "I'm alive." I think. What was the line? 'Just my luck: there is an afterlife, and it's the same one...' He nods. "We'll keep you that way." He's rummaging in a bag. "I'm Dietrich." At least, that's what it sounds like he said. I have absolutely no idea how to spell it. "What happened?" Normally this would strike me as an excruciatingly stupid question because the evidence is lying less than fifty feet away. I recognize that and realize that I should be finding it stupid, but I don't seem to be managing it. Maybe it's the blood loss again. "I went for a walk -- sat on the edge of the Cliffs to try and relax -- Azure was with me, wandered off, started calling for me..." This is important. "We had it wrong -- she's a tracker..." Another nod: his hair takes a while to settle down. "The arm?" Oh, he just wants medical stuff. "Claw swipe..." A swab comes out of the bag, sterilizing agent follows, both are applied to my arm. "And the impact bruising?" There's impact bruising? I guess I lost that sensation in the overload. "Went off the Cliffs with it... came down on top of it." Mary-Jane gasps. Gardener blinks hard and stares at me. Dietrich just nods again. "I'm going to give you a painkiller, then clean your arm and stitch it." Followed by the question I knew was coming. "Do you want to leave the game?" "No." Not like this. Not at all... Neutrally, "We'll see." He brings out the needle. "I'll need to take a closer look at this, and we may have to move you to the mansion for a few hours. But right now, it looks like what you need is a good sewing, a strong bandage, and at least two pints of blood. Whether that means you stay, I can't tell you. I've had idiots think about staying in this game on a broken foot -- at least for a few seconds." And injection. "But it looks like there's no permanent damage, except to the skin -- and you can have plastic surgery to reduce the scars after they form." I'm not afraid of needles: the sting doesn't bother me. The sting is barely there. "No, that's okay..." As long as the arm works. I can't afford the surgery anyway, and that's just vanity -- which has never been one of my strong points. "How long until you move me?" "Not very," Dietrich assures me. "You're not in any immediate danger, so I just want the injection to kick in before I do some more work." A few actual measured minutes pass -- and then we get a new arrival. "Let me go, you jackasses! Let me go!" I can just see it from my position: Jake is being roughly manhandled into the clearing from the beach path, one arm yanked up behind his back, the sunglasses askew. "What the hell are you doing --" and then he sees the jaguar's body. Followed immediately by seeing me. Shock is the least of the expressions on his face. Raw hatred dominates them all. The two production people who were corralling him push him forward: he reels about six feet before getting his balance. (The camera operator who entered with them films it.) It's more than enough time for Gardener to come out of the shelter, and his voice is a purr. "Hello, Jake... didn't notice the medical boat?" And the production crew moves to block the beach trail. Jake's voice is very cautious. And underneath that, extremely frightened. "I saw the boat -- I thought it was production..." He can't stop looking at me. "Guess where we found him?" the larger of the two production people says. "On top of the Cliffs with three dead birds. He was spreading their blood on the ground -- trying to make it look like something had died right there. Broken necks, all three." Jake's court is not admitting this into evidence. "Alex!" He takes a step towards the shelter. "Thank God you're all right -- after you went over --" -- and Gardener takes a step forward. I can almost feel the ground shake. Or maybe I did. Some weird things are going on with my senses right now. Jake seems to have a pale halo around him, tinged with brown and puce. Gardener is a very light gold. "Take out the gun, Jake." Jake blinks. "Now." There are words you don't argue with, tones where the harmonics forces the body to cooperate before the command is acknowledged. Jake's hands move -- but stop just short. It's enough to see that the tranquilizer gun is still under his crew jacket, which is still being worn despite the increasing heat. "I thought so." Another step. "Now this is how I've got it worked out. The jaguar comes out of the treeline, Alex has the fight of her life and wins, we're all having some really interesting meat tonight." Dismiss the cameras and there isn't another sound in the clearing. Gardener talking, Jake breathing, my own heartbeat. That's it. "But here you are. I saw you go past with her, up the trail, cameraman for the day. And you like to carry that gun. A gun that does nothing but put things to sleep. So when the jaguar came out, you could have opened fire on both of them and like Trooper said, the worst that happens is Alex wakes up six hours later with a headache." And still another step. I like the technique he's using on the approach. I wonder if I can use it someday. Everyone else is paralyzed. "Why didn't you shoot, Jake? You probably would have enjoyed hitting Alex if you got one in her by accident..." Jake's eyes dart about the clearing -- and now camera people are blocking the other exits, at least the ones visible from the shelter. "I..." Gardener's about twenty feet away now. "Big chance to play hero, Jake. Take down a jaguar, save the girl. And instead, you're trying to make it look like something else happened. Why didn't you use the gun, Jake?" Softly, still purring his words, "I really want to know." There is nowhere Jake can go, nothing he can say to save himself. He can't explain his actions, can't come up with a lie strong enough to take his weight: too much disbelief for any words to suspend. Which may be why he goes with the last resort of the game, the final tactic when you know you're doomed regardless of words or actions: the truth. His lips twist into a smile, and he takes a moment to adjust his sunglasses. "Who cares about what happens to a stupid little sacreligious freak, anyway?" And Gardener roars, dives forward, Jake's shoulders pull back, Azure is screeching at the top of her small lungs, now he's going for the gun, but the production people are closing in on him -- -- and Phillip's got Gardener: came out of nowhere, shot in front of him, holding him back with sheer raw strength. "Tom, no!" It's the first time anyone other than Gardener's used that name. "You touch him, you're out of the game! You can't!" "I don't care!" Gardener shouts. "I'm out anyway after the next vote! If I go out beating the living hell out of a soon-dead asshole...!" He's pushing, and he knows how to get through a block, the production people are disarming Jake despite his struggles against them, Gardener is going to break through any second and I wonder what's going through his head, I wonder why he's pretending to care, maybe he's just mad enough about his ouster to execute an interesting fake quit -- boy, this painkiller is some fascinating stuff: one of the trees just picked up visual echoes, and I wonder why everyone's so surprised. Of course Jake didn't call for help. It's natural that he wanted to see me hurt. No one ever helps and everyone always hurts you. Where have these people been? ...Cameron races in, steps between the Phillip vs. Gardener match and Jake, who's just had the gun stripped from him and is standing in place, breathing heavily with rage. "Don't." Solid and firm. "Phillip's right, Gardener." Who seems to be listening, but he's still pushing hard, and Phillip can't hold him back much longer. "You touch him, you're out. That's the rule." He turns to look at Jake, who's smiling again, securely wrapped in the safety of the rulebook. "On the other hand, the worst that happens to me is some bruised knuckles." The first punch breaks Jake's nose. The second one takes out part of a tooth. The rest seems to go on for quite some time. Finally, Cameron turns to face the shelter. He's tinged with an interesting shade of reddish-silver. "I've wanted to do that for eleven seasons." He briefly turns, spits on Jake's crying face. "No assault laws out here, asshole -- probably can't press neglect charges against you either, but at least you'll remember it goes both ways..." He looks at Dietrich. "Medical over here, D-man. If you can be bothered." Dietrich slowly nods -- and then turns his attention back to me. ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Finally, we're back -- and here we are at camp, where Gardener and Angela are having an argument? Oh, come on! This is bad enough for us, but there are viewers who pay no attention to Internet spoilers and don't watch CNN. Millions of them. For all they know, Alex could be dead, and we're getting teased by having us watch the wrap-up of another political debate that went exactly nowhere? We just left 'cruel' and hit 'sadistic' doing about Mach 5. Where's the medical boat closing in on the Cliffs?} {...my god...} {She walked back? Dragging the jaguar with her?} {Pale -- still bleeding a little... she tied her own buff into a tourniquet...} {I think we just set the all-time series records for both 'tough' and 'stubborn as hell'.} {Where's Medical? Gardener just screamed for it, but Jake should have called them in immediately! Did Alex wake up before they got there, left on her own, and they just never spotted her? Are they searching the ocean for her body? Did she just ignore Jake?} {...and that's the preview commercial sound...} {Phillip's got Alex... it almost looks like she's trying to fight him -- close-up on the wounds -- oh, yuck. Any doctors here tonight? How does that look?} {Connie just turned her back on Alex and walked out of camp. Right after giving Phillip the most disgusted look in series history. I don't think any of the others caught it.} {And if anyone's a doctor, go look after Tony. Sheesh...} {It looks bloody, but from that very brief glimpse I got, it looks like nearly all of the damage is to the skin -- Alex just confirmed some of that: her hand is fine...} {Gardener in a cold fury -- what's wrong with him?} {I think I know. This goes back to the Riddlemaster. It was on the mantel in the first act, and never used in the second...} {*blink* You're right. Jake had the gun. He didn't use it. I didn't think of it because I was kind of busy watching Alex fight for her life, but he never pulled it -- he just filmed the battle, and he couldn't have hurt her with a stray shot...} {We swing out of camp, we're back at the Cliffs, and if you missed this, I'm going to have to ask you to take my word for it: they just caught Jake with three dead birds. He was in the middle of mangling them to make it look like an animal attack and spreading their blood over the traces Alex left there. You know what a borderline personality is? We are looking at a borderline sociopath. I think I know where this is going.} {They grab him, haul him off, he can't even get a good lie up about what he was doing to the birds -- back to camp, where Gardener has suspicions...} {Alex is insane. She's refusing Medical because she doesn't want to go home?} {She's in shock -- give her some leeway.} {And here's Jake -- I have never seen a deadlier expression on a human face than I'm seeing on Gardener right now. How did this man not make pro?} {Injury, last game of his college career. Took a while to heal, and by then, he was locked into his current position.} {...those are some of the most chilling words I've ever heard spoken by someone who wasn't paid to read them from a script.} {Green Cameraman -- is about to die.} {If Phillip loses one inch of ground --} {Anyone who still has any doubts about the Alex/Gardener alliance, just listen to Gardener here.} {Oh. Ow.} {Ooof...} {Squeegee, Aisle Three!} {We leave Jake to bleed on the ground as the camera moves back to Alex, who's starting to get a little loopy from the medication. Medical changes their collective mind and decides to move her back to the mansion before doing anything major. Alex is about as silly as she ever gets here -- still very deadpan, not exactly giving us the drugged-up smile, but it's clear that she and the universe have completely broken off speaking terms. She looks right at Phillip and asks "Does anyone know how long you cook jaguar for?" Then to Angela, "I know it's endangered, okay? I don't want to hear it..." They've got her on the stretcher, carrying her out, she's just about out cold...} Amanu forming an honor procession to the beach. Minus Connie -- and there she is, in confessional voiceover. And if you didn't believe Jake, you're not going to believe this either. "I cannot believe Phillip would go to help her. Doesn't he understand that if she leaves, that's one more vote where we don't have to worry about twists? So what if we have Gardener for another three days? Being a humanitarian should be reserved for those who are human. The soulless don't count!" ...the soulless?} {I want Connie's branch of Christianity pinned down, and I want it before this season ends.} {I'll give you this much: it's not mine.} {Alex being carried out to the boat, Azure riding on the stretcher with her despite Medical's best efforts, and here's a quote for the ages, delivered while she's staring at pretty much nothing. "The following episode contains scenes... that may be too intense... for some viewers... viewer discretion is advised..."} {Which is just about what the so-called 'episode preview trailer' gave us last week. Child of television, indeed.} {We follow Alex -- well. Huh. Here's the mansion. First time. And here's one of the production areas in the mansion. They're going over Jake's footage. Which brings up several interesting questions... obviously he kept filming, and I would have given him a moment of thought for 'My first job is to record the action: I just didn't think of using the gun in time' -- but this evidence damns him. Why didn't he get rid of it?} {Maybe he couldn't... we don't know how the cameras work. He couldn't say he just wasn't filming her when it happened.} {My God -- he's gloating on the tape...} {Alex unconscious in the makeshift medical bay -- stitching her up, giving her a blood transfusion, crew lined up to donate fresh pints... There's more than enough people willing to come forward.} {Fade out of the mansion...} ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Evening." It comes out as a greeting, unexpected from a voice that usually opens with 'Come on in, guys!' or 'Welcome to Tribal Council.' I close my eyes immediately after having opened them. No, I didn't see that. I must be dreaming. "Jeff...?" I look again. Let's see if this dream can stay consistent. Yes, he's here, sitting on a pallet: I'm back in the shelter, and the dream would have to be pretty good to include the feel of the pad under my back. My sketchbook is open in his lap. There's a couple of camera operators around, including my confessional filmer. Azure is wandering the shelter floor. Jeff nods at me. "Present," he says with a very small smile. "And so are you -- although from what the people on the boat told me, you were out of it for a while, including most of the ride. I doubt you remember one second of the mansion." The sun isn't down yet, but it's well on its way along the arc. "I asked the others to clear out. They're on the beach -- they've already had part of this briefing." I was in the mansion? Well, apparently I don't remember it. I bring my left arm up. It feels like I'm hauling a block of wood. My hand works, but reluctantly. Jeff can see the concern. "It's just temporary residue from the medication. It's going to hurt for a few days, and it'll take a while to heal. The good news is that it really is just skin damage: the muscle and inner nerves were untouched. You'll have full use of the arm, and you could even compete to some degree -- although you'd have to be careful about the stitches, which is why that's halfway between a pressure bandage and a cast." Heavy, rubbery to the touch. "After we factored out the blood loss, the injury was not bad enough to automatically merit your removal from the game. It could give you problems in some challenges, which is why that thing's waterproof -- but you could stay." Slowly, "The question is whether you should." This is a lot to take in after waking up from a drug-induced sleep. "If it's not that bad -- then why would there be a question?" Really -- this is good news. My torch can get snuffed at night, the way the series intended. "In some ways, it is bad," Jeff replies. Very carefully, "Alex, the scarring is probably going to be pretty severe." I shrug. It seems to take a lot of strength to make my left arm move with it. "My hand works -- as long as I can draw, the rest doesn't matter." He blinks -- I guess that's not a popular Hollywood attitude -- then sighs. "Legally, we're not responsible for the injury. You know the forms you signed -- events that happen aren't under our control. Morally -- we never found the jaguar. We never thought there was anything big left alive on this island. So when the time comes, if you want to have the scars minimized, we'll do what we can -- same as we did for Michael." I nod. I can't sue. I can't even really complain in public. But it's in the show's best interests to look good. "The problem with your staying is the mental angle. You just went through a traumatic experience. Are you up for continuing?" "The game is a traumatic experience." I try to sit up and manage it after some work. Azure immediately flaps up to join me. "Shoulder, parrot -- the arm is busy..." Back to Jeff. "I'm not Ostening." Um -- oops. He laughs. "Ostening? I've read that, but I've never heard anyone say it out loud..." My face really wants to wince. I don't seem to have the strength for it. "Quitting. I mean I'm not quitting." Jeff nods. "I know what it means. But beyond that -- Alex, I reviewed the footage. There's things you should know." I listen. "First: do you remember what happened with Gardener and Jake -- good. Jake has been removed from the island. Permanently. If we have anything to say about it, he'll have a hard time getting work filming children's birthday parties -- which should be interesting, because he hates kids... He had the gun. He never used it. Yes, he has an obligation to capture what's happening, but contestant safety is the top priority. He should have drawn the weapon and fired it as many times as necessary. And then he left the camera on the whole time he was shooting birds with that gun to get blood so he could cover the Cliffs stains..." He what? There's no amount of exhaustion or drug residue that can keep that shock from getting into the open. Jeff is starting to realize he'll need to do most of the work for that side of the conservation. "I'll take it step by step." He does. Jake filmed the entire struggle -- then ran from the scene. He snuck back somewhere along the point when I was still dragging the jaguar's body -- Jeff thinks it took me nearly an hour -- and then decided that it was in his best interests if it looked like a suicide. So he took off to find some birds for their blood, a good enough shot to get them in flight. But he also used a little time to edit out some of the footage. "Cameraman's right -- the rig is good enough to do some stuff on the spot. You can suggest edits, cuts -- the works. It's a good way to show if you're ready to be moved into editing, or cut down if primary memory is getting full. But Jake forgot something about the new rig. Whenever you alter the footage, the original recording is automatically saved to backup memory -- and he can't access that. Only the master editors can. He had you at the edge of the Cliffs, talking about suicide -- very clumsy stuff, he really rushed it -- but the full piece was lying just under that file." Jake didn't care to call Medical, because Jake didn't care if I lived or died. Jake thought I'd died, and he'd been happy about it, on the record. Jake's only worry was that I'd died on his watch and the record would show he hadn't done anything about it. He concocted the best plan he could with his limited intelligence and tried to clumsily execute it -- but then Cameron sounded the alarm, and everyone went looking for him. "You had to hear him. He just said anything that happened to you was God's retribution for your abuse of the cross -- and we couldn't do anything about it." Jeff's laugh is bitter. "And he made a Final Two prediction: that Connie would prevail in the end... Apparently they're members of the same church. They've been doing a lot of talking." Figures. "Did he know the jaguar was out there?" He'd been carrying the gun for days... "He didn't say." Jeff shrugs. "Admittedly, he was having some trouble talking with that cracked jaw. Do I think he heard something and was trying to cover his own rear? Yes -- and it says something about him that he didn't tell anyone else. Jake's always been all about Jake: no one else. But he could really handle a camera -- he even managed to get some quality shots in during the fight -- so he stayed on the crew. He just didn't have any friends to speak of. And now he doesn't have a job, either." Fixing on me. "The others know most of that. Not that he and Connie were getting close, but that he could have done something and didn't -- yes, we confirmed that for them. And for the record, if Phillip hadn't been able to hold Gardener back, I think the footage of that fight would have been mysteriously lost." Anger, open fury, so rare on his face... "Some things transcend the rulebook." And back to me, calm again. "But there's more than one mental angle here, Alex -- a lot more than trauma." I wait for it. He has to be going somewhere with this... "Did you go off the cliff on purpose?" The leading questions are no less annoying when they occur outside of Council. "Yes." A single nod. "Why?" I need exactly the right words here or I will be on the jury before the sun finishes going down. "I was out of other options. I wasn't going to punch or kick it until it left -- not if it was desperate enough to keep after me once it lost an eye. I didn't have any weapons: Azure couldn't have done much, she probably would have just gotten killed herself..." She looks up at the sound of her name, and I absently stroke her feathers. "I made a mistake sending her in. I made the right guess, thinking she would respond to that kind of command, but against a jaguar? Mistake." Slowly, "The cross was gone. I didn't have another physical weapon. The last thing I had to work with was gravity. I thought that if I could go over the edge, take it with me, get it to hit first..." "I saw your grip as you went off," Jeff tells me. "Jake missed the fall itself -- but he captured the landing. You came down on top of it -- and it came down on top of the rock. It must have died instantly -- and you passed out." And these words are mines planted in the field, the trap just barely visible if you're looking for it. "But why did you have to go over with it? If you'd just heaved..." This hurts to admit. "I wasn't strong enough." I hate saying that. "It was heavy, Jeff -- I could hold it back, but not toss it over. Plus it got a claw snagged in my shoe, I felt it -- I would have been dragged off with it anyway. The pain was keeping me from a full effort on top of everything else... and honestly, I thought there was a good chance I was dead already. I didn't know how bad the wound really was. My only chance was to get it over and hope that it would cushion my landing. I was losing strength fast -- if I hadn't done something, I wouldn't have been able to hold it off that much longer anyway." And now to see how much of that he believes. Apparently just about all of it, but... "You didn't expect Jake to save you?" The softest words to date. "You knew he had the gun." I shake my head. "I wasn't thinking about it --" I hadn't been "-- and I never count on anyone to save me." His eyes sharpen at those last words. "You were talking about suicide before it happened. I know you weren't trying to be the first person in the world to commit suicide by jaguar..." Angrily, "I would never kill myself." I had too many people rooting for it from junior high on to ever take it seriously as an option. "Living is the best revenge." Meeting his gaze claws for knife edge, "Or surviving." Neither of us says anything for several long breaths. "All right, Alex," Jeff finally says. "You acknowledge that the injury will probably give you problems in the more physical challenges and can hurt your chances there -- and you're still willing to stay in the game?" I nod. "Then you're still in the game." And before I can even think about relaxing, "For now." "You reserve the right to change your mind?" Lovely. Don't glare at him during pointed questions at Council, or the price could be really high. He shakes his head. "If the injury shows infection, maybe. But right now, it's up the others more than you." I can figure that out in a hurry, and groan. "Oh, right. Who said the words 'mercy vote' first?" "I never said that." His eyes are twinkling. "But since you've thought of it, you obviously realize it's a factor... Now -- here's the schedule. We didn't cancel a challenge. We're going to have Reward first thing tomorrow morning and Immunity in the late afternoon. After that, it's idol, hunt, and Council the next day. Understood?" Yes. "Now I'll get out of here and let the others come in." Lightly, "Phillip's ready to show how he can handle jaguar over the fire." He puts the sketchbook aside, stands up. "Oh -- three things. First, we recovered the cross off Jake. He had it in a pocket -- no idea why. It's in your bag. Second --" and his eyes go deep. "-- watch yourself when you do get home. When I first saw the cross come out, I realized there would be those who would take it badly -- but now I know you're going to really offend some people. I think you could have a rougher time after the show than during." I manage a nod. I've been trying not to think about that. I wish he hadn't brought it up. "I'll get through it." Jeff looks more than a little dubious. "Third --" and he points to the sketchbook "-- that is not going home with you." He raises a hand, cutting off the protest before it can really begin. "Because now that I've seen what you've been drawing, I know you've got too much of the game in there. That's not just memories, Alex, that's virtually a day-by-day timeline for the season. I thought we'd have to confiscate it and return it to you at the Reunion -- now I know. This isn't subject to negotiation." He heads out of the shelter -- then turns around just before clearing the awning. "Nice ones of me, though." And heads for the beach path. "I'll send the others in. Get ready: this should be interesting -- because they don't know you're here yet. I told them I needed some time in camp, and some of them thought I was gathering your things for a really deep mood shot..." Gone. I sit and wait in the deepening twilight, watching the beach path. No approaching voices at first: just footsteps. Everyone's quiet. Well, mostly everyone. "I suppose we'll have to see if Jeff left anything behind." Connie. "None of us can use her clothing -- especially whatever piece of structural engineering she calls a bra -- but I suppose they'll make interesting salad bowls." Gardener doesn't sound like he's in a good mood. So he's okay. "It's amazing that you actually think that's funny." Mary-Jane's turn. "It's going to be so quiet..." Gary: "She made noise?" There's some humor in it. "Look, Jeff said the decision was final and we could talk about it at Council -- she'll be okay. It's like Frank: if it was major, we would have been told. You all know that." Angela's still having trouble adjusting. "I still can't believe she killed a jaguar... I know Jeff said the footage showed it was all her, but there must be something he missed..." Robin sounds bitter. "Why? Because it wasn't you doing it? And Connie, so far, you've been really bad about guessing when Alex was out. All Jeff said was that the decision was final -- he never said what it was. I'll lay you good odds that as soon as we get in there, the first thing we're going to see is --" -- which is when Phillip comes around the little bend -- and the first place his gaze goes is the shelter. "Alex!" It looks like there's real joy in his eyes. "You're okay!" Somewhere behind him, Connie makes a sound that can't be put into words -- it's sort of like someone swallowing an entire belief system -- and then Robin races out from behind Phillip's back, sprinting for the shelter. "Ha!" And right in, almost vaulting onto the slightly elevated floor before plopping down onto a neighboring pallet. "Connie and Angela blow it again -- you are one tough bitch!" There's more than a little admiration there. "Let's see the arm! How many stitches? Damn, that thing's going to hold up for water challenges -- we'll probably have one tomorrow if they were protecting it that way..." Phillip strides up, grinning hugely. "Back to nine the hard way, huh? Not that I mind." And really, he doesn't. "Ready for dinner? I'll bring the meat in and get cooking -- you killed it, I clean it." Azure squawks out a welcome. She really seems to like Phillip. Angela's approach is slow, shaky. She seems to have no idea what to do with me -- at least until she opens her mouth, and then she works it out in a hurry. "I'm glad you didn't go out that way, Alex -- and I'm happy you're okay -- but that's a really big bandage -- and as for staying in this game with that..." "Jeff said I'd be okay." I shrug. "I'm less of a threat in some of the physical challenges. I wasn't much of one before." She shakes her head. "Maybe, but you really need a less stressful place to heal. I think you should consider the benefits of a mercy vote." Translation: 'You're out in two days. We'll send you a Get Well Soon card, care of the jury box.' Ninth place. "I can heal just as well here as there." And there's no way she's going to believe that. "We'll see." Tony's looking the bandage over. "Nice... that's professional stuff." Angela gives him a dirty look, and Tony actually picks up on it. "Hey, I see medical stuff all the time in the trainer's room. You can play with that." Six extra levels of grime. "Not that you always should..." Gardener comes up, slowly shaking his head. "Damn it -- I cannot get rid of you, can I? Couldn't throw challenges, can't get you voted out, and now the universe drops a damn jaguar in your lap and the only thing you do is say 'Fresh meat!'" "Wait two days," I tell him. "Apparently Angela wants a 'mercy vote'." Which perks him up a little. Why not? I go, he stays. Gary sits down on the edge of the shelter floor, looks up at me and smiles. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. Connie groans. "All right, she's alive. I'm sure we're all very happy about it. We still have to eat. Is anyone going to start a fire?" And Mary-Jane inches into the shelter last, looking strangely timid, barely willing to meet my eyes. "Sorry..." Well, I did just lock up her position as Last Turare. "Things happen." More to the point, "The game happens." She's just a little bit relieved -- and Gardener nods. It looks like we're all back to being doomed together. "I'll go start the fire. The sooner we eat, the sooner we get the after-dinner campfire story. This is probably going to be a halfway decent one. Hell, if I hadn't seen the body, my first guess would have been that you offered to form an alliance with it, and the jaguar did the only sensible thing and killed itself..." -----------------------------------------------------------------   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

cahaya 14104 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-21-06, 00:09 AM (EST) 6. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part II" "Living is the best revenge. Or surviving." To the very end.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

azkate 239 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Network TV Show Guest Star" 09-21-06, 12:21 PM (EST) 7. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part II" On tenterhooks (what a word)! Just when I thought the arc had hit the apogee, you switch it up a notch.....pure genius! another tribe work of art   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

ohmyheck 1919 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser" 09-22-06, 08:38 PM (EST) 8. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part II" Estee, you are KILLING us! Please post another part of the story soon!   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Belle Book 1925 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser" 01-10-09, 07:18 PM (EST) 15. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part II" Bye-bye, Jake! You won't be missed, that's for certain! And Cameron -- way to go! I wonder if Dietrich really cared about taking care of Jake -- what with Jake's nasty nature? I sure wouldn't if I was him. Belle Book   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-22-06, 09:55 PM (EST) 9. "The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part III" LAST EDITED ON 09-27-06 AT 11:55 AM (EST) After ----------------------------------------------------------------- The scars had been itching all week. I knew what was coming. I'd just never seen it from the outside before. Jeff had never shown us the footage, told the others it would probably wait until the show aired -- and it did. When I saw the warning at the end of the previous week's episode, I'd known they were going to use most -- possibly even all -- of the footage. No quick shot of the jaguar attacking followed by a transition to my walking into camp. And given that they'd set up Jake's earlier role in my series life, that part was probably going to make the cut too. It was going to make for a very interesting episode, it would probably produce several million screams from people who would insist they hadn't been warned enough and the show was responsible for their personal trauma -- -- and it would be hard to watch. I never had nightmares about the attack: Phillip had seen to that, even if his trick for negating them was currently somewhere in a producer's vault. (I expected to get it back by UPS courier right after the episode aired: as soon as I had it on the show, I could have it in the apartment. I was also anticipating a possible date request, despite all earlier statements.) But I did think about it now and again. I never spent long hours dissecting every move, trying to figure out what I could have done that would have let me still win while saving the look of my arm in the process. The scars didn't matter. My hand had never given me any trouble after the attack, and the pain had eventually gone away. The show had never asked me to wear long sleeves in public: I'd just told them I would, and they hadn't had any problem with it. And once the scars were seen by the public, the scars could be minimized. If I wanted them to be. I still hadn't made up my mind there. Memory would make it hard to watch. Jeff had insisted I'd just passed out on impact: sensory overload, too many nerves firing at once, the brain deciding to close off all input for a while so it could sort things out. I still thought I'd died. Part of me had never made it off the rocks. Every experience brings change: the person who went off wasn't the one who landed, the one who woke up qualified as a third party. I remembered everything going out (like a snuffed torch), and it had seemed like too sharp a sensation for just losing consciousness. So -- I'd died. I really did believe that, and -- well, the cards had said death, and maybe they had just meant the jaguar or the dozen little pieces of death I'd seen before that, you could even count swimming down for the box if you wanted to, but -- my future. My death. I thought it would be very hard to watch myself die, even knowing that I'd gotten up a few minutes later. I wouldn't be able to watch myself dragging the jaguar back to camp: that footage didn't exist, and no one had suggested recreating it. I'd drawn part of it -- capture everything, whether I wanted to see it or not -- but those images were out of my hands. The ones in my head weren't going to leave any time soon, and they weren't just visual. The weight of the body, the faint smell of feces even after the drag through the water, the way every sound had been sharpened, a salt residue in my mouth that refused to go away... There were more commissions to work on, although I'd refunded money on six of them: a half-dozen people had asked me to draw myself beating the hell out of Matt. (Some of them would probably be back Friday, asking me to take on the animal of their choice.) I had artwork to get through, I had a book to design, and I had a letter to dread: I'd sent the reply to Sybil's parents and they'd written back, thanking me yet again and continuing to insist that they'd make the Reunion if they could. They'd write me if they got the tickets. I didn't know if I wanted to see that letter. I knew how hard it would be to see them in person, listening to their thanks for defending their daughter while remembering what she'd done to me... The scars had been itching all week, and it was making it hard to concentrate on drawing. I knew it was purely psychosomatic: the closer the episode came, the more my thoughts went to the battle on the Cliffs, and the more the memories were going to demand some kind of physical attention. But just knowing what was creating the problem didn't automatically solve it -- -- and since it was all in my head, neither did scratching. I hardly ever wore short sleeves in public: just for the hottest weather. It was far too cold to wear them outside the apartment now, and I was just about at the point of indoor sweater weather anyway. But I almost wanted to display my arms, just for a little while. Maybe the scars wanted attention, maybe that was the mental component. Show people (other than Matt and Rosanne) what had happened, get it out in the open -- and the itching might go away. But the scars would have to wait. A lot of things would. ----------------------------------------------------------------- During ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Amanu waiting... they're told the challenge has been postponed, but not canceled. Or maybe Production will change their minds and we'll see a combo challenge tomorrow: first one this season if they do. Same as after Frank: lots of wandering around camp, lots of little conferences. Connie still staying well out of camera sight. The full confessional may have gone on for a while. Like two or three hours. Survivor Gold people, no matter what kind of bandwidth you're pulling, consider yourselves doomed.} {Mary-Jane telling Phillip some Alex stories -- starts off with the first fire and getting everyone to promise not to vote her off... Phillip's laughing, still wishes he'd thought of it. Tony comes up in the middle of it, puts a hand on M-J's shoulder, says 'I know she was your friend -- she'll be okay. You've just gotta wait it out.' Interesting -- a little touch of humanity from the Tonster. Either he really understands what M-J is going through or he's just trying to work out his disappointment over missing out on that particular menage-a-DAW.} {This probably goes back to Tony's job -- spend a decade in the minors, you'll see a teammate go down in front of you with a severe injury. He's been there, done this, sat in the locker room and waited for news. When we're in something he understands, Tony's not the worst guy in the world. He's just a classic 'guy' -- and there isn't much he's really got a grip on.} {Gardener ultra-quiet... sitting on the beach, watching the ocean. Which is very weird for him: silence is not the man's first resort. Robin comes out, sits down very close to him, says "She'll be back in a couple of hours." Absolute conviction there. Gardener shrugs, says his luck has to take a turn for the better eventually, so maybe Alex finally is out. Robin point-blank tells him that's the biggest piece of *bleep* she's heard in the entire game. "You sure as hell don't love her, but you don't hate her, either. I don't know what you do feel there, but it's not what you want us to think you do." Gardener doesn't say anything: just keeps staring at the ocean. Robin rests her head against his arm. Gardener nearly jumps about six feet to the right from a sitting start. Robin looks at him, says "Okay, you're a little old, but you're built, you're single, and I like the tough guy types. Suffer." And does it again. Gardener just about breaks the sound barrier getting to his feet, tells Robin he's just separated and looking to reconcile with his wife. Robin decides she believes the first part, but tells Gardener there's options other than the second. Gardener getting angry, says he's not going to be played the way Angela's playing Tony. Robin a little surprised here -- Gardener thinks that's completely a play? -- but tries to insist it's not about alliances and votes, it's about his being big, warm, and easy to snuggle against at night. Again, he can suffer with it, at least for the three to six days he's got left. His fault for being so good on the machines. Gardener leaves in a possibly-partially-faked huff. Robin watches, shrugs, gets bleeped again, and now she's watching the ocean, looking really disappointed.} {Robin's attempt to make a power play backfiring on her, or...?} {For some reason, I don't think so. She's just decided it's her turn at the showmance station -- not for alliances, because she knows Gardener's out next. It wasn't 'pair up with me and I'll protect you.' It was 'I can make your remaining time here a little more fun: wanna see?' And he didn't. If anything, that little word slip on his days left shows she might really be believing whatever offer Angela's been selling her, or at least think she can Immunity her way through any lies.} {This could be her idea of the subtle approach, too. About as subtle as a car alarm at three in the morning.} {I guess Gardener really does want to patch his marriage up. Robin's damn good-looking -- she'd probably knock you into next week if you called her 'cute' -- and if you like the dancer body type at all, she's just about perfect. The number of men who would kick her out of bed on general principles isn't going to be all that high.} {Or Robin called it wrong, and he's so gruff in front of Alex because he's seriously crushing on her...} {Oh, great. You just inspired a whole new generation of fan art.} {Like Robin didn't.} {Connie's finally back -- Phillip asks her what happened, and she tells him she's not very good with the sight of blood, thought she'd better leave before she got sick all over camp and made things worse. Phillip actually doesn't seem to be buying this one, and I'm not sure Connie's picking that up.} {Everyone ordered out to the beach -- Jeff's waiting for them. Tells them Alex was worked on, the injury is as they suspected on first good look and confirms Phillip's diagnosis: the skin is a wreck, the muscle is fine, no nerve damage, she'll heal but the scarring is going to be extensive. (Mary-Jane looks a little sick.) They've made a decision regarding her position in the game, and it's final. If they want to, they can talk more about it at Tribal Council in two days. Robin's looking very doubtful here -- asks if this means a double-elimination cycle. Jeff shrugs, tells her she'll have to wait and see. Connie in open delight here. Why not? Alex is out. She's gotten her wish. Maybe not the way she originally wished for it, but listen to the sound of her not complaining. Fire, flood, animal attack, vote -- it's all good. From the expressions on most Amanu faces, just about everyone thinks Alex is out. Not much attention being paid to Jeff's wording, because the wounds are too fresh in their minds.} {And now Robin looks really dubious -- keeps glancing at the camp trail entrance, like she's trying to see what's going on in there...} {Talking a little about what happened on the Cliffs with Jake. Everyone listening in complete silence. Gardener getting angry all over again. Jeff notices, stops for a moment to ask him what he's thinking. Gardener just says "The first thing I thought when I saw Alex was that the son of a bitch ran and left her to fight it alone. That was bad enough. Having him stay and film it is actually worse." Jeff can't do anything but nod there.} {Camera flash on Connie when they're told Jake's been removed -- or, as Jeff puts it, "Voted off, one to nothing -- my ballot." She's not happy about it. Hmmm...} {Angela looking really skeptical -- doesn't seem to believe Jeff's assertion that Alex took the thing down herself. She asks if they can see the footage, but Jeff says they'll have to wait on this one.} {Production thinks that was the last of the big animals, but from now on, all the camera people will be carrying the tranquilizer guns. Jeff asks if anyone wants to leave because they're afraid of a second animal attack. Everyone's willing to stay as long as their confessional filmers are packing, but I think that's mostly because they do believe Alex ran into the last one. They do want to know if the show people figured out why it was still there. Jeff says they have some theories, but nothing definite. Or in other words, 'if there's a loophole you could sue through, I'm not going to show you where the opening is.'} {Jeff needs some time alone in camp, and heads up the trail. Connie immediately decides he's gathering Alex's things for a mood shot. Robin does a really good imitation of Gardener and says she doubts it. She's still the only one. Time passes -- Jeff comes out, no bag, tells them they can go in. Everyone except Robin completely convinced Alex is out. Connie thinks Jeff passed the bag to a production crew person who left out the back way. Some more conversation coming up the path --} {Should I be laughing this hard? Should I be laughing at all? Oh, the timing on that last statement... nice work, editors...} {Aren't you glad you didn't bet me?} {I swear, you could detonate a bomb in the middle of camp and she would be the only thing left standing...} {I love it! She lives to annoy Gardener for another day!} {Or two, because Gardener's ass just had a line surgically removed from it. Alex is out next: Angela wants the mercy vote.} {Lots of clustering around Alex, Robin and Tony checking out the bandage -- that is some advanced stuff -- Connie trying to bring the evening back to the real priority, which is getting her fed. Gardener with another great line. He's basically going to walk off with the entire season's quote list, isn't he?} {Phillip working on the jaguar's body -- confessional voiceover here: "I've got exactly one chance to find the steaks on this thing. I hope I get it right. No one in my neighborhood's ever specialized in big cat cuts." He's shown giving the front claws a long look before bending over the paws...} ----------------------------------------------------------------- "So how is it?" Phillip really wants to know. Because he carved it, he cooked it, he even tried to spice it -- although only half got the rack treatment. As Gardener pointed out, this is probably the only time in our lives that any of us will ever have jaguar, so we should get to experience the natural flavor. From what Phillip said, he treated half of it like a normal steak for spicing and just let the rest roast naturally. And because I'm the one who killed it, I'm the one who gets to be the taste-test guinea pig -- starting with the unspiced half. The chewing is going very slowly. It's not just the texture: it's stretching out the revenge. My body is starting to give me little notices about the full extent of the damage as the painkiller wears off: there's an entire network of bruises waiting to be heard from, and with the cushion of shock gone and the medication on the way out, they're very eager to speak up. I'm especially glad we have the bathroom, because it doesn't have a mirror. The edge of the lake is reflective: I might take one look and realize I should retroactively give up on the spot... "Really stringy, but I think that's just because it was so skinny. It's got a good flavor to it." It tastes better than any meat I've eaten in my entire life. Phillip nods. "I could tell it was tough stuff. Should be easier for the back cuts: that kind of got tenderized the hard way." He grins. "The chop should be easier -- work on that for a while." He starts passing the cooked meat around. "Skinny, maybe, but there's more than enough for nine of us. I'm going to try and smoke some of it in the storage shack -- make a little jerky to keep for later." Gardener likes the idea. "Just don't go Butch on us, that's all I'm asking..." He gets a hearty laugh in reply. "I know how to run that fire. Don't worry: I'll stay up for a couple of hours and make sure it goes okay." Which really perks Gardener up: a tired Phillip at tomorrow's Immunity challenge can only help him. We all eat in relative silence for a while. Connie's not looking at me. She's been very careful about not looking at me ever since she got into camp. Probably because someone might expect her to say something non-insulting, and I'm pretty sure she isn't up to it. Lots of compliments directed towards Phillip for his carving and cooking of the jaguar. Plenty of ruminations on the flavor, with everyone agreeing that it's not like anything they've ever had before. We're savoring this, me most of all. I'm going to eat you... I never said anything about doing the cooking. Amanu holds off on the main subject until after dinner -- and naturally, it's Gardener who brings it up. "Okay, Alex -- you've got a bunch of brand-new blood cells, and you've just had more meat than we're probably going to see for the rest of the run." At least until we hit the mansion. "I'm guessing you've got some strength back, so let's hear the story. Jeff didn't give us much." I nod -- then take it slowly. There isn't a single word from any of the others all the way through. Gasps here and there (mostly from Mary-Jane), what I'm choosing to see a some really frustrated looks from Connie, heavy doubt radiating from Angela -- but not a single interruption. I even explain my theory about Azure, who's fallen asleep on her perch. It was a long day for her: she's earned a rest. Gary's the first to speak when I finally finish telling my semi-edited version of events. (There's currently no point to freaking them out. Jeff had a hard enough time with the idea that I'd gone over the cliff on purpose, so I tried to gloss over that part. And I really wasn't comfortable with bringing up my period.) "I can see that, Alex -- pretty much all of it. Parrots are some of the most intelligent birds on the planet. If you found just the right one and worked hard enough... I wish I could have met the man, just to ask him what he did and how long it took. And find out just what else Azure's been taught to do." Angela isn't ready to buy into this. "I can just barely accept that you could get a bird to not be afraid of fire. But to recognize different kinds of animals, scout for them and call when they were found, not to mention attack... some of this has to be coincidence." Translation: I came up with the most recent theory, so it must be wrong. "Doubt it," Gardener snorts. "That bird is deadly -- for a parrot, anyway." This grin is exceptionally vicious. "Better be careful what you say to Alex -- she's got a trained attack feather duster, and it's going to listen to her before any of us." Back to me. "I wish like hell we had a weight machine here -- I want to get you on a press and see exactly what you can do." "Call it an adrenaline surge," I shrug. Besides, he can check out one bicep as much as he likes: most of my left arm is on open display right now, because no one ever changed the torn blouse. I appreciate the non-stripping, but it's getting me the occasional funny look. I should really put on something a lot less bloodstained. "I never want to do that twice, Gardener. That was luck as much as anything else." Which Angela can readily accept. "Right now, I'm worried about what the endangered species people will say when I get home..." Angela's all over that one. "Plenty," she wryly notes. "There's some major fanatics in that group." A brief pause, during which everyone else considers the source. "But if you don't fight for your life because you're afraid of hurting the furry thing, there's something majorly wrong with you. I'm not blaming you for killing it, Alex. I'm blaming the billionaire for bringing it here." Well, at least she accepted that part of it. "This just proves it: animals shouldn't be moved from their natural habitat." Mary-Jane still has a case of the shivers. "I couldn't have done it." Some focus on her. "I would have tried, but -- I don't think I would have won." Phillip looks thoughtful. "I've had to wrestle ornery bull calves, but I'd never take on a grown one... I don't know how I would have done." Tony's natural cockiness is not going to get a vote in here. "Dead meat. If I'd had a bat, I could have beaten the hell out of it, but bare hands?" Visibly thinking about it, "I guess I would have tried to sprint for the edge of the Cliffs and jump far enough to dive over the rocks -- the water's deeper on that side, right?" Right: the rocks help form a natural shallow pool close to the beach. "That would have been my best shot." Either Angela knows she has to throw Tony a bone once in a while or she's actually ready to agree for once. "Same here." Robin blows a puff of air from a slightly extended lower lip. "Ran like hell. No shame in saying it." You can almost see Gardener drawing up the plays in his head. "I probably could have thrown it over, but I'm a bigger target..." Gary shakes his head. "Right there with Tony. Dead meat. Maybe I could have gotten lucky, but my self-defense courses didn't cover claws." And it was an optional elective at the secret agent academy: he took getting through low-tech counterweight security systems instead. And now we're all waiting on Connie. It takes her a few seconds to realize it and put down her rib. "I would have hoped never to be in that situation, and that my faith would protect me if I was." Robin grins, and it's just a little bit evil. "Worked for Alex..." I had told them what I'd done with the cross: it wasn't as if I could get Connie any angrier there -- although she looks just a touch more aggrieved at Robin's statement. Phillip nods. "Everything's a tool when you need it to be." Which really gets Connie's eyes blazing, but he's not looking in that direction. "Reminds me..." He's fishing around in a big pocket, carefully extracting something -- -- a necklace. Most of our scroll ties braided together, with the jaguar's claws cunningly woven in. Very cunningly: it's not as if he could hollow out something to pass a string through, but they look like they're absolutely locked into place. The two largest fangs have also been spaced in, and Amanu stares at them for a few seconds as the tips reflect the firelight. Phillip gets up, walks around the table, holds it out to me. "I figured you might want a souvenir." I start to reach for it -- and Connie breaks the moment. "That looks a little too much like the Immunity necklace." Phillip shrugs. "I guess -- didn't think about it when I was working on it." A second offer. I take it and carefully slip it on. I can't put this one under my blouse: there's still something of an edge on the parts. Instead, it gets to rest on top of my breasts, where it looks just about as stupid as I expected it would -- minus about twenty percent. But I can't take it off just yet: it's obvious Phillip put a lot of work into it... "Thank you." Another big grin. "No problem." He heads back for his seat. "I never believed in dreamcatchers too much, but I figure if anything's gonna keep nightmares away, it's having a reminder that you brought it down." Maybe. I don't believe in them at all, but I don't know what my subconscious is planning for the evening's entertainment. "I hope I can sleep -- I was out for a while in the mansion." That might make it hard to find a straight eight hours here, and it's also frustrating me: I was in there and I don't remember any of it... "It'll catch up to you." Gardener, the voice of experience. "I got knocked out by drugs once after I got hurt on the field. Didn't do a damn thing to take out my body's natural cycle. As soon as you lie down, you're going out until morning." Tony nods. "I had the same thing happen back in rookie league." Angela glances at him: apparently this hasn't come up before. "Broken humerus -- didn't pull up on the warning track." A small, oddly shy smile. "Trust me, you only do it once..." Which puts the conversation firmly onto Amanu's Most Classic Injuries, with everyone trotting out their single highest medical bill and just what they did to get it -- except for Gary, who's apparently really good at dodging bullets. Angela even tells the others about her scars, which gets some major attention from Tony: he immediately gets up and goes over to have a look, spending several breaths running his index finger across the lines. Connie, who just can't be left out of this sort of thing, finally admits to just a touch of surgery -- the liposuction -- visibly expecting the same kind of sympathy for her recovery time. (She doesn't get anywhere near the same amount, and the touch review was a total loss.) Robin walks us through the joy of nose jobs. "Two weeks, twenty-nine pamphlets for battered women handed to me on the street." Finally, most of us wind up in the shelter -- Tony's night to take the floor, Phillip's working on the remaining meat -- and I get onto my pallet. Pad, pillow, but I refuse the blanket: it's too warm, and it'll be hotter tomorrow. Lie in place, wait to see if I fall asleep -- -- dreaming, I know I'm dreaming but it's not enough to give me control of it, I'm at the Reunion and I can't see where I'm sitting or who's around me, all I can see is Jeff and he's looking right at me, he wants to know if I feel I'm accountable and of course I am, I knew that when I entered the game, everything I did would be reviewed to the point where people were examining individual atoms for spin, he understands that but wants to know why I still did what I did, and I tell him that if he wants to know so badly, he can move to the jury and cast a vote, he says he's had one all along and I've just never seen it, neutrality is still a stance, a lack of opinion counts as a ballot -- "-- hey, Alex!" I open my eyes. Tony, looking down at me. I glance around: I'm the only person still on a pallet. Everyone else is either out or getting dressed on the floor: Angela's just pulling her sneakers on. "Sorry, but we couldn't let you sleep any longer. Just got the word: Tree Mail in a few minutes. Grab some food and water -- we've got to get moving." He nods toward the exit. "Bathroom's free." I nod back and force myself off the pallet. Ow... Yes, now the bruises all want to be heard from. It may take a while, because there's a lot of them and they're not willing to take a number and stand in line. It's just Reward, it doesn't matter if I win it or not... But it's Reward and Immunity in the same day -- no extra time to heal -- and if Immunity is anything physical... Reward doesn't matter today unless it's an auction and there's an Immunity advantage up for bids. Immunity does. And if it isn't Immunity, then I need the idol, or I'll be looking at the rest of the game from the first seat on the jury, with both Angela and Connie to gaze at on the other side for a good long time. Mercy vote? Since when has this game been about showing mercy? I am not going without a fight, and Angela's going to know she's been in one... ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Alex tells her story, and the lack of emotional inflection actually makes it worse. Yes, this happened, here's how it happened, I'm amazed that you expect something this inconsequential to have affected me. You have to see Mary-Jane here -- she clearly believes Alex is still in some degree of shock. You'd think she would have learned by now.} {Angela still looking for the replay officials to step in and throw a flag for blatant lying, but if anything, Alex is understating the case.} {Interesting bit here on the 'what would you do? discussion. Robin's right: no shame in running, especially if the thing decided to take on the slower target and go for Jake. Tony -- not sure he could have gotten enough speed up to clear the rocks, maybe Angela could have...} {Okay... I understand why Phillip made the necklace, but Connie's right, and watch me not say that again tonight: it looks a lot like this season's Immunity.} {Don't worry. I'm pretty sure Jeff can keep from confusing the two.} {Now: is Tony staring at the necklace, or what most of the necklace is resting on?} {Just about everyone goes to bed -- close-up shot on Alex, peacefully asleep -- and welcome to a very busy Day Twenty-Three, because the Tree Mail makes it official: no dual challenge, just two in one day. The poem for the first: 'Chop, chop, chop, up to three -- who stands where, that's what we'll see.' Well, they just called the beast by its own name: this is an order-sorting challenge, and everyone knows it. Even Tony's a big enough fan of the show to catch on, and Gardener's grousing about getting hit by something he feels is essentially pointless: no Turare has a chance to win this, and we all know it going in. Alex tells him to be glad there's never been one for Immunity, which is a fair point.} {Angela gathering Haraiki while they still have time -- looks like they're planning this out...} {Hot day. Very hot day. And how we can tell? People sweating. Lots of water being drunk. And for the first time all season, Alex just rolled up her sleeves.} {Travel shot -- everyone pauses at the top of the Cliffs, and Gardener goes to look over the edge, with nearly everyone following him. Connie hangs back, staying next to the bloodstain on the grass. Gardener looking down, then glancing over to Alex on his right -- "You're insane." Close-up shot on him shaking his head. "I can't blame you, it was the only thing you could have done, but you are completely and utterly out of your mind..." Alex doesn't say anything: just keeps looking down at her landing point. Gary giving her a really weird look. Gardener with one of his groans. "If only you were two hundred pounds heavier, male, and on scholarship -- greatest special teams suicide line-breaker of all time..." Phillip laughs, says Gardener might want to try it without any of the three, or least try to get Michigan to offer the scholarship. That gets Alex to say she's really not the football type, and they move on.} {Onto the mat -- Alex giving it a long look before stepping onto it -- Jeff greets everyone. He notices Alex's necklace, and we don't see this from him very often: a world-class double take.} {Guess it was too early in the morning to review that footage.} {Jeff asks Alex if she's changed her mind, she shakes her head, and to the challenge we go. Pretty basic, but 'who stands where' has a double, familiar meaning this time: fill out questions about what you think of the others, then Jeff will ask you what you think the most people said. Get the answer right, chop one rope that's holding an axe suspended over a replica of someone else's torch. Three hits on your own torch, the mini-burning head gets chopped off by the falling blade, and you're out. This may not be for Immunity, but they're reminding everyone of what's really going to be at stake. Winner gets a full KFC dinner now and a lifetime pass that's good at any KFC forever. Interesting one -- what does that work out to, cash-wise? The Bransen's unlimited gas for life had an actual top value...} {We'll have to wait on TV Guide again. It's probably a couple of hundred dollars a month.} {No cube this time, blackboard reveal -- makes sense: it could be any of the nine names.} {First question: who's the most annoying person in camp? And this is funny: everyone says Angela -- with two exceptions. And neither of them is Angela. Connie says Alex. Angela even says Angela. And naturally, that's the right majority answer. Angela smiling, saying she was just guessing what the others would say and as long as she guessed right, no problem. Tony's answer was 'Connie'.} {Seven chops coming here... Angela hits Alex, who doesn't look remotely surprised. Robin hits Alex, shrugs, says they worked it out beforehand, so it goes. Gardener hits Angela and tells her he wishes he could consider it as a preview. Phillip is about to hit Alex, but changes his mind at the last second and takes out Gardener's first rope. Mary-Jane hits Angela. Gary putting some serious thought into this -- then hits Tony. Alex takes out Angela, who looks about as happy as you'd expect. Alex completely neutral going back to the mat.} {Second question: who's the most intelligent tribe member? And the laugh of the night: Tony said himself -- then said he'd misheard the question! Lots of scattering here on the answers: Alex says Gardener, Gardener says Alex -- yeah, right, no alliance there -- Angela just staring at both of them, naturally she said herself -- but the most popular answer is Alex. As in 'two votes': Mary-Jane and Gardener. Angela highly miffed and in a state of disbelief you normally only see at an ID symposium. Gardener hits Tony. Mary-Jane hits Tony -- Tony's out, and you have to see his face when his fake torch goes out in the sand. So far, the order is not being sorted as expected.} {They did this with too many people left... when Haraiki doesn't get it right, they can't shield themselves from the chops...} {Third: who would you most want to be stranded on a real desert island with? Most popular answer is Phillip: everyone gets it except Phillip (Gardener). Connie takes out Alex, right there. Alex doesn't even shrug, but she does get a slash of her own: Connie. Mary-Jane hits Connie. Gardener decides to make it a party and finishes off Connie, who looks like she was expecting it -- just happy to have gotten Alex out before she went. Robin gives Gary his first hit. Gary takes Robin in response.} {There is just no way to make this thrill-a-minute exciting after the jaguar incident, is there? Man, I'm glad I don't have the summary.} {Trust me: I may just follow up the jaguar roast with 'And then some stuff happened,' then cut to Immunity.} {This is how we know they planned the challenge too far ahead of schedule and never bothered changing it up: the fourth question is 'Who takes the biggest risks?' Everyone says Alex almost before Jeff finishes asking the question. Robin hits Gary again -- that's two. Gary gets Robin right back. Phillip hits Mary-Jane. Gardener looks at Mary-Jane, says "I can't stand the thought of you with a great TV set and unlimited buffalo wings in front of it, too," then hits Mary-Jane. Mary-Jane openly says that was one more payback for the vote switch, but takes out Robin, who isn't happy about it.} {Fifth question: who's the most clueless player? Oh, Tony's got to be hating this: he's the majority answer, and Gary, Mary-Jane, Gardener, Phillip, and Robin all said it... with Robin showing her blackboard from the bench. Gary hits Phillip, because someone has to. Mary-Jane looks at Gardener and says "Consider this as my resignation from Angela's alliance." Hits Phillip. Philip just grins and gives Gardener another chop. Gardener's staring at Mary-Jane -- returns the favor and takes Phillip out. Three left: Mary-Jane with one hit, Gardener with two, Gary with two.} {Sixth question: who's the biggest flirt? Yeah, right... like anyone was getting this one wrong. All three get Mary-Jane right, including Mary-Jane. Mary-Jane hits Gary: out. Gary wavering between stations on his revenge chop--} {...did I just hear that right?} {Yeah, you did. Mary-Jane just pulled a considerably less expensive Ian: asked Gary to hit her rope. "I can't afford to eat that much KFC anyway... not physically." Gardener points out that he's a trainer and it's not like he can afford to chow down on fried foods constantly either, even if it's free. KFC has got be hating this: suddenly, their lifetime prize is about as welcome as a skunk in a perfume factory. Gary looking back and forth between them. Mary-Jane pointing out to Gardener that he can treat his charges to meals out after wins -- then says "I'm trying to apologize, okay?" Gardener thinking it over -- then shrugs, says they're all going out anyway, and he can stand the occasional wing. Gary nods and hits Mary-Jane. Gardener finishes the process, and Gardener wins Reward.} {And so much for essentially pointless: for the first time in a long time, the order-sorting machine just blew a gear. We know a Turare isn't going to win this game -- and especially not Gardener unless he unleashes the king-hell immunity run of all time -- but they can still win Rewards. Nice mini-edit in there -- Gardener feels it's a lost cause, so Gardener wins.} {And not on purpose -- Angela's plan just didn't work here, not with her going out first. Just too many people still active and mad at her.} {Gardener gives M-J weird looks all the way to the mat, where Jeff is just now realizing the show screwed this up -- some sorting: the minority tribe won -- and receives a KFC gold card. The full meal will be served for lunch, and then they'll be back afterwards for Immunity. Of course, two people are coming along.} {Gardener thinking hard -- takes M-J while saying "Fine, you screwed up once. Don't do it again." Looks like they're one big happy sub-tribe again, just in time for it to not matter. Then takes Alex, because she needs food to get her strength back up. Purely practical reason. Really. Just look at his face and listen to that disdain. Or maybe that's disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth.} (He's still about the team... and Alex is now his Special Teams Suicide Line-Breaker. Deluxe Edition.} {I'm pretty sure it doesn't work for voting blocks.} {Everyone heads back to camp -- not quite lunchtime yet -- but the next shot is the KFC Artery Blockage Festival, which is being held out by the waterfall. Alex almost paying more attention to saving the sporks than eating the food. And guess what? She's never had KFC before in her life, either! Sheesh... Not ready for how thirsty it's making her: bottle after bottle of Izze going down.} {Good thing she was willing to eat it, or Loverboy would be making a very lightweight delivery.} {Very little real game chatter here -- just three people having a meal. What's to discuss? They know they're doomed. All we get is Mary-Jane saying that she tried talking to Robin while Alex was out, and she found out what Robin's promise was: Final Three. Robin thinks she can beat the Immunity challenge and name her poison before getting the jury to swallow it. According to M-J, Robin still doesn't like her own group, but she's willing to put up with it if it means Final Three, which she keeps seeing as Sole Survivor, and Robin knows Turare can't offer anything better...} {*sigh* Turn off the incoming train signal: the switch has officially been diverted. Robin's overconfidence just caught up with her. She probably thinks Connie's out because she's annoyed Angela too much, Phillip because no one wants to sit next to him in front of the jury and she'd have a point there, and then she'll just waltz into the Final Two...} {Commercials -- and we can all exhale, because nothing attacked to try and get the chicken bones during lunch. Opinions?} {Alex needs Immunity or she's toast, lightly mercy-buttered. But we just had a social challenge of sorts, so the next one's probably physical. If she somehow wins that or lucks into a puzzle challenge, Gardener's out. The idol will be a problem for Turare -- Haraiki can follow all of them, so even if someone solves it and gets there first, they'll just be voted around. Say Alex with Immunity, Gardener with the idol, or the other way around -- Gary's probably out there.} {It's hard to see Alex going tonight -- she lives through a jaguar's claws and then gets taken out by paper cuts from the ballots?} {Burnett's idea of irony.} {I hate to say this, but I'm with our newfound Tarot convert. Alex can't go out tonight, because we aren't out of cards yet. Even with the last one pretty much screaming 'Jury!', we can't run through Moon and Tower before this episode's up. I personally think we may have seen the first signs of Devil with Angela's offer, even if it was out of order.} {Disagree, for just that reason. If we just finished Death, then Devil has to start now.} {No one said they couldn't overlap...} {We're probably going right to Immunity when they get back. From there, the idol hunt -- we'll know soon enough.} {And that brings us back to the Riddlemaster. Do we really know what we think we know?} {Dude, tonight already has me stressed out to the rafters. Don't give me a headache on top of it.} -----------------------------------------------------------------   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-25-06, 09:00 PM (EST) 10. "The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part IV" LAST EDITED ON 09-27-06 AT 09:36 AM (EST) Gardener's amusement is starting to reach towering levels. Naturally, it's at my expense. "You'd better hope this isn't endurance today, Alex, or you're going to be out just as soon as your bladder catches up on the news." I'm currently on my fourth bottle of sparkling fruit juice. "You know, most people would have built up a tolerance by this point in their lives." Tolerance to enough salt for one official mine shaft? "It's too soon for another endurance challenge." And if I'm wrong, he's got a major point and I'm going out following Trooper's road -- first stop: nearest sheltered area. "Besides, I'm probably supposed to be having fluids. Pretty much every medical prescription in the world includes fluids." It's that or dehydration. I could probably use something: since I'm officially back in the game, I'm not allowed to have any painkillers unless I find or make them myself. Right now, that means Frank's grass -- which no one said had any suppressant qualities, but enough blades and I just won't care how much I hurt -- or finding out just how you make willow bark into a tea. That feels like it would wind up meaning 'swallow splinters until your throat distracts you from everything else', so I'm not going to try it just yet. (The bandage will be changed every couple of days, with the injury checked for infection at that time. Topical painkillers will be applied about five minutes after I'm voted out.) I'm still trying very hard not to catch glimpses of myself in the lake's surface. The tactile reports that come in every time I move are bad enough. One 'stand and write' challenge: great timing. We aren't going to see two in a row. Whatever this is coming up, it's probably going to hurt -- and I'm almost guaranteed to lose. Mary-Jane sips at her fizzing blueberry juice. "What do you think we're doing next?" "Water," Gardener immediately responds. "It's been a while since the last one and with that bandage, we're officially on 'inevitable.'" He looks it over for a few heartbeats -- then turns thoughtful. "Something I read years ago -- I think it said that a family of jaguars -- maybe that was one male and four or five females, plus kits -- would need about two hundred and forty square miles to support them. But that's in competition with every other predator on their home turf. If you only had one, and it was the biggest thing on the entire island -- yeah. It could have gone on for years." Mary-Jane really doesn't want to think about this any longer than she absolutely has to. On the other hand, Gardener just brought up something that's apparently been at the back of her mind. "Where do you read all this stuff? You sound like you're quoting a lot of the time." I'm kind of curious myself. Gardener shrugs. "I'm a college graduate, remember?" Steadily, "And my kids need tutors. Some of them were signed because they were big and fast and could keep track of moving objects: courses are a problem. If we want to keep them on the team and stay clear of the authorities, they've got to pass -- so I tutor them while they work out. If you can get the right answer to come out of your mouth when you're trying to bench your own body weight, you won't have any problem getting it out of a pen during a test. It means I get to read a lot. Textbooks and fiction -- a lot of them try to slide with modern literature courses. I got my sheepskin, but the damn education never stopped..." He pauses just long enough to finish off a biscuit. "And once you get into the habit, you keep it." Mary-Jane seems satisfied, if not impressed. "If I want college that bad, I can take night courses after my career's over. Right now, every hour I spend in a classroom is one less I have to work in. That's the price of a limited-span occupation." "Tell me about it," Gardener replies, and his voice is oddly weary. "I help operate the minor leagues. They spend four years with us, nearly all of them dream about making the pros in a school with our rep, maybe ten will get drafted in a really good year, five of those will hang on for more than two seasons... and too damn few think 'Well, what if they don't call my name?' If it wasn't for the rules, a lot of them probably would make the jump right out of high school and get their fool necks broken... Alex, you're right near WPC, right?" Surprised by the change in direction, I nod. "Division Three. Couple of decent squads, but no real football program. Never been there -- schools that far apart don't play each other, and they've got nothing to field anyway." "I've never really watched them play anything." Not on purpose. Some of my walk routes take me past the various practice fields. I know they occasionally get ranked in baseball and I've seen them getting ready to take on teams, but the college life just isn't for me -- athletics included. He nods. "Just high school for you, right?" Right. "Okay, I'm curious -- did you even try for college?" I shake my head. "Why not?" "Find a course in cartooning." That should be an easy enough answer. Gardener snorts. "Other than Kubert?" Damn. Now how does he know about that one? "Reed. Out in Oregon. They also teach comic book history and how to use it as a lens to view social structure. Weird college, Reed... Angela should have gone there." Mary-Jane nibbles at a drumstick bone. Her heart doesn't seem to be in it. "I wish she was going to the jury... The best thing --" hastily "-- game-thing -- in the last two days was watching her face when Alex chopped her last rope." Gardener's eyes narrow even more than usual, and he looks like he really wants to say something about Angela's continued presence being in some part Mary-Jane's fault -- but he's holding it back, at least for now. Besides, he'd decided to target Tony. "She's shaken, though. She didn't like it when she took that last hit, and she's really having trouble with you, Alex. You shook her up just by coming back into camp, and I don't think she believes more than one word in three about that fight." Almost to himself, one of those statements that makes me wonder if he's really tracking just who's around him, "Hell, it's almost fun, watching someone else go through it..." "Do you believe me?" Challenging. I went through a little too much to have people tell me I made any part of it up. Even Connie hasn't debated me on the details, although I think that's mostly because doing so would mean talking to me. "Hell yes." Completely flavorless. "You're exactly crazy enough to have done all of it. And I don't think you just conjured a jaguar corpse out of thin air, either." Gardener puts down his spork. "Can't complain about it, either -- not when it puts you out before me." "You'd better start winning Immunities," I tell him, and this is free to be as bitter as I want it. Letting some of the pain leak in helps. "I really don't want to vote for Angela as the best player." Mary-Jane blinks. "You'd vote for her?" I nod. "If her plan works and it's her and Tony? Sure. She would have done the most to get there." Gardener tilts his head slightly to the right, which somehow manages to offend an Alicia. "Huh. Note to self: Alex is not going to cast a bitterness vote. That'll be at least ten kinds of useful if I manage to make it --" Or maybe Alicias aren't quite that easy to offend (although that goes against all prior evidence): Cameron just reached the lake. "Hey, guys." He's been a lot more open about talking to us since the extremely one-sided fight. Which is to say, he's been doing some of it. "Early warning -- you've got about ten minutes to wrap it up." Mary-Jane turns and smiles at him. "No problem." Cameron lightly blushes and moves to confer with my confessional filmer. (I reached the lake ahead of the food and shot a very long one -- apparently the show was pretty much dying to hear from me.) "Sweet guy." "With a hell of a left hook," Gardener notes. Very softly, "Okay -- how are we smuggling this? I am not sticking tubs of mashed potatoes down my shorts." It's a game, really. The show expects us to smuggle food and we expect them to let us get away with it -- unless we're really blatant about getting it out of sight. Maybe one day they'll build a challenge around it. "Alex, you've got the high zone storage space, but you're probably reserving it for the idol..." It's a mark of how sore I am that I have exactly enough strength to think about killing him. Mary-Jane just giggles. Eventually, we work out what we can and can't do -- the popcorn chicken is easiest to carry -- and head back for camp. Phillip meets us at the entrance with a small yawn: he's used to farmer's hours, but that just means he's been getting extra sleep since arriving on the island. One night of getting back to his 'normal' didn't come as a natural thing. The jerky turned out well, though. "Just in time -- we've got Tree Mail." He nods to me. "Alex, they want you reading it." Because my neck's on the block again. Jaguars go for the head and your so-called tribemates target the neck. I nod back and head for the sticker-lined path, going past Connie on the way. She's sitting on the ground, working at a knot in her shoelaces with her teeth, pretending not to notice me. The effort loses something when I see her bite down, almost going through the fabric. Down the trail, reach into the quiver, retrieve the scroll, take off the tie, pass it to the right -- -- stop. Sigh. Tuck the tie into a pocket. Yes, if it was a group read, Trooper would have been standing right there, ready to add it to the collection. Trooper's gone. Get over it. I open the scroll and get treated to "'So many dreams, so many hopes, but only one can win. Cut them down by minus one with each flash of a fin. Retrieve them all, reach the last, and three more days you find. For every other one of you -- your flame is on the line.' Why don't I just go pack my things right now?" A diving challenge? Great. Fantastic. Wonderful timing. I now know I'm one of the best remaining at holding my breath, but I'm not the fastest diver or strongest swimmer in the group when I'm healthy. Right now, given the athletic abilities of the other eight -- actually, given that both tribes voted off the physical weakest links during the first stage -- well, maybe if I'm very, very lucky, I can beat Connie... maybe Gary... and then there's no consolation prize for seventh challenge place... Back out to the others, which only means I have to read it again. It doesn't even get me a second opinion. "I know this one," Phillip quickly decides. "Eight objects on the ocean floor -- then seven -- and finally, two people go for the last." I can't argue with that: it's exactly what I got from it. Tony's perked up. This is registering as something he can do. "Straight physical stuff -- about time." "There could be a twist in there," Angela gently reminds him. And she's a strong swimmer. "But you're probably right -- it could be just pure swimming for this one." A glance at me. Right, you're going to get your wish. There's no way I can win this one. But that still gives her no right to say what comes out next: "Alex, are you sure you don't want to just sit this one out?" Let all the pain through, direct it through vocal cords and eyes... "No one gets to sit out Immunity unless Jeff says so." Reward can be a different story -- and did Angela just pull back two inches? Good. "After I lose, do your worst. Until then, wait your turn." Angela pulls back another two inches -- then leans forward, visibly acting like nothing happened. Gardener caught it, though. "Welcome to my world, Angela." Any of the five words could have been put on trial for murder based on looks alone. "Let's scatter -- we know this is swimsuits. Might as well change here." We do, and Connie beats me to the bathroom -- but Tony decides to be a gentleman about things and steps aside, conceding the shower to me. I thank him and go in to get changed, working carefully and trying to touch as little as possible. It doesn't help. The swimsuit may be as covering much as anyone was willing to make without laughing, but it's still tight, especially in the reinforced areas -- and what's under them received their fair share of impact. I can see some of that even while trying not to look, and it's worse than it was after the fall from the stilts. It's all I can do not to grit my teeth or softly moan, and actually getting the thing sealed feels like I've just locked myself into a mobile torture chamber. I'm supposed to swim and dive in this? I don't even want to move in this... Exit the bathroom, drop off the popcorn chicken in the cooler bag where it joins the deposits from the others, wait on the rest of the tribe, wait for the signal, get targeted by Azure upon exit -- she'd spent the fried chicken lunch back at camp, having semi-smuggled parrot snacks (special delivery from the mansion, but delivered underhand) -- and down the trail we go. My blood is still stained on the grass at the top of the Cliffs. It'll stay there until it rains. I'm at the back of the line again, and so get to see a few people stop to look at it. Gary's hesitation is the longest. Angela takes a very brief look. Mary-Jane averts her eyes. Azure glances down from my shoulder. I don't look. I know it's there. Down again, the entrance, and -- "Come on in, guys!" We do: as the last to arrive, I wind up at the right edge of the not-at-all-suspicious-looking mat. Jeff looks us over, amused again. It doesn't take long to find out what he's been amused by. "Okay, I think I can keep track of this -- it's the one with the leather braiding. Hand it over, Gardener." Which he does, with considerably less reluctance than he ever gave up the spear with. Gardener knows he's safe tomorrow. Jeff hangs the necklace on the waiting stand, which Azure is staring at. Why not? It sort of looks like a perch. "Immunity -- back up for grabs." In private mode, "And our challenge staff -- complaining like you wouldn't believe about getting two of these ready in one day." With a quick grin, "I told them to go out, find a jaguar, take it down by hand, see if they could get back to their normal routine in a day, and then they could complain all they liked." Gary smiles. "Besides, this one was not a difficult setup." He gestures to nine small platforms floating about a hundred and fifty feet out in the water, thirty feet apart: they're about two feet square, more than large enough to stand or sit on, looking too stable for a balance challenge -- and the poem wasn't pointing that way. "You'll all swim out and take a spot on your assigned platform." It does look like there's little plates set into the plastic -- our names, probably. "On my signal, you'll dive down and start searching for the first object I name. You do not get to see them in advance -- if you can't figure out which is which, you're in trouble. The first eight of you to surface with one get to put it in your sack --" presumably attached to the platform "-- and continue. As soon as the last person comes up, I will immediately name another object. The first seven people to surface will continue and search for the third -- and so on. The last two people will detach their sacks and swim back to shore with them. The first person to their finish mat --" nine of them, spaced so that we all have to swim and race an equal distance to get back "-- wins Immunity and a guaranteed one-in-eight shot at a million dollars. Are there any questions about the challenge?" Just one, from Angela. "If I'm in the last two and come up first, I don't have to wait for the second person before starting back, right?" Jeff nods. "Start detaching your sack as soon as you come up. Just make sure you have the right object -- there's a number of things scattered around your stations, but if you come up with the wrong one on a given hunt, you'll have to go back down for the actual target. That'll cost you time -- and in this game, that'll put you out." Angela nods, but she seems to have been only really paying attention to the first sentence. "You're all getting goggles and swim fins for this one. Alex, hand over Azure and let Medical check the seal on that bandage. Once that's done, everyone can put on their equipment, swim out to their platforms, and we'll get started." I comply, which doesn't take long. Azure may have somehow gotten the idea that salt water is involved here and it's not her favorite thing in the world: I'm surprised she stayed with me as long as she did on the rock. Either way, she wants no part of this challenge. (She stayed with me all the way through the rope-chopping, but it didn't exactly take that much time for me to go out.) One quick parrot-perching later, I'm at the edge of the water and ready for the first agonizing stage, which Jeff wastes no time in starting. "Okay, guys -- swim out!" Which I do, very slowly, with rescue divers watching me every stroke of the way. I am in no great hurry. I'm going to save that for the actual challenge and hope I can ignore the pain long enough to function, but there's no point in torturing myself more than I have to before that. Which turns out to be 'lots' over the course of far too long: I'm the last person at my platform by a good margin. At least it's easy to spot. It's the only open one left, third from the left when facing the beach. Plus we were told where to go, and that generally helps... "Everyone find your sacks, then stand on the edge." Floating just under the water on the right side. Mine is attached with more sliding fabric clasps. If I had any confidence about surviving more than two stages, I'd keep that in mind. "Once you're out, just sit on your platforms and wait." Hooray: best seat in the house. "Survivors ready --" Don't I wish. Look down, try to find the objects before starting, but nothing's directly in my field of vision in the two heartbeats I have before Jeff takes control -- "-- first item is a net! -- go!" -- and it's quiet again, or almost so: my challenge neighbors are close enough so that if they do anything loudly, I'm going to hear it. I can just see Robin on my left, swimming down with more powerful strokes than I really wanted to get a look at. Tony's on my right, currently out of sight. A net, where's a net... If it was white fabric and got dirty since they laid it down, that's an oversized throwing knife, one of the future objects or maybe there's decoy items down here -- that's a net! Black strands against a light brown ocean floor! Only fifteen feet to the bottom, grab it, didn't take long at all, kick, surface, sack, look around -- Tony's already up and waiting, so is Angela, so is Gardener, here comes Robin, and -- -- "Connie last up, no net!" Jeff declares. "Connie, you're out -- binoculars!" Deep breath -- ow -- down again, hunting, always hunting in this game, hunting for a way through, a way out, that looks right -- no, damn it! That's a camera! What's coming up next, the nature photography round? I've still got oxygen, look around, get a little elevation for a better survey, there it is, up, breathe, listen -- "-- Gary last up!" Thank you, Jeff. That came just as I was getting my second breath: too close, I can't win, I know that, but I keep thinking that if someone just has major trouble finding an item -- more like everyone... "Spyglass!" Great, the history of hunting. Maybe they had some props left over from the Pearl Islands. Down, there's Tony, he went straight for it, must have seen it on an earlier dive, he's going up already and I'm not even all the way down yet, but seeing his let me get the shape and now I'm looking for a form, Got it!, deliver the kicks that wouldn't have done anything against the jaguar and -- "-- Gardener's out!" Gardener? It sounds like we all were pretty quick on that one: that was a dozen heartbeats after I came up. He must have had trouble spotting it -- "Hunting horn!" Or maybe he just confused it with the new one: they probably look something like each other. I'm looking for -- yes, I vaguely remember this from somewhere, it's sort of a cornucopia shape -- and that's it, right there! More to the left than I wanted, on the edge of Robin's string-marked area: get down to it, go straight up afterwards, where I surface doesn't matter as long as I surface, I can get it into the sack later, clutch it, arms hurting, legs hurting, body turning into a blur of pain, push off the ocean floor, go for it and -- "-- Alex out!" Which is really all Jeff has to say. Alex. Out. I slowly swim back to my platform and put the hunting horn back in the sack for no good reason that I can think of: Phillip goes out while I do so on a failure to come up with that throwing knife. I sit on the edge of my platform and wait. Robin goes next. Then Mary-Jane, a heartbeat behind Angela -- which brings us down to Angela and Tony for the two scrambling at the fastenings of their sack, pushing for shore, user and used, Angela is just a few strokes away from winning Immunity, she was already going to be around for three more days, maybe even sixteen, and this is just giving her the rock-solid guarantee on a percentage of it, she's a little faster in the water than Tony is -- -- but she's slower going up the sand. Tony's run in mud, mire, all the horrible surfaces a poorly-maintained minor league park can offer. Sand doesn't stand a chance. "Tony! Wins Immunity!" Tony does another one of his patented high jumps, almost rebounding off the mat, and then runs to Angela before any thought of approaching Jeff enters his head. I can see her face fairly clearly, even at this distance, and she's surprised by his priorities -- but she knows what to do with them, and she hugs him right back. He had time for it anyway: Jeff tells the rest of us to swim in so we can watch. I'm the last one onto the beach. Finally, once we're all in place, Jeff fetches the necklace and approaches Tony from the back. "Tony, you are the only person currently known to be safe at tonight's vote." He puts it on, and Tony basks in the weight. "Three extra days, locked in. The rest of you have up to sixteen of them remaining -- and for someone here, the number is down to one. Head on back to camp: the idol clue will be waiting for you. I'll see you tomorrow night." This time, I look at him just before I exit the beach. His face is neutral, as it is most of the time. But there's something in his eyes -- and just for a moment, he shakes his head. No, the show isn't trying to keep me around. They didn't turn the challenge into something I could do. No fixing the odds, no sticking in a last-minute three dimensional puzzle just so the viewers could listen to Angela's screams as her plans were temporarily thwarted. The game goes on and the game, as far as such things go, is fair. Survive a jaguar only to be taken down by the vote. It happens. Ninth place and the jury. Can't swing Robin, can't convince Tony he's a pawn, Phillip's not going anywhere, Connie switching to save me is a joke, and Angela's not changing her mind. She wants to show mercy... ...because she's afraid of me. Because she knows I did kill it, and she doesn't know how to deal with me any more... There's still the idol. If I can just give her something to be afraid of... ----------------------------------------------------------------- {All right, now I'm counting on the cards. Angela's not thinking clearly. Alex did her best at that challenge, but you have to get rid of Gardener at the first possible chance. Alex is going to be weak for a while. Gardener's the boot here, mercy or not -- and anyone who believes 'mercy' is part of this game, especially from Angela, please stay tuned for my six-hour fit of hysteria.} {Tony with idols, Tony with the necklace... Tony is basically playing this game wearing a condom.} {Well, no wonder Angela's pretending to be so attracted.} {Maybe Angela will change her mind? Or this could be a really big misdirection by both Angela and the show -- make it look like Alex, jaguar-slayer of the hour, is going out after being wounded in action, and then Angela turns it around and dumps Gardener first anyway?} {I'm pretty sure this is Alex, but if the Tarot reading is growing fangs and claws to go with the ones Alex is wearing, it can't be Alex...} {We're back, here's the idol clue, and everyone repeat after me: 'Huh?'} ----------------------------------------------------------------- Connie reads it again, just for the benefit of anyone near the back who doesn't happen to be me. "'Phoenix rising.' I'm out." A very solid, unabashed statement. Connie doesn't understand the clue. Connie is out. Not needing the idol may be a major factor. "What does that mean?" No one answers her. The time for mass tribal speculation in an attempt to get the numbers secured has passed: we're at an individual game, and we're each trying to forestall our own doom -- at least for Turare. Phoenix: flame, rebirth, rising from the dead. I can feel the irony tinging my thoughts. And completely mythical. Exactly like my chances of seeing Day Twenty-Five on the player side. The torches? Rebirth, birds -- nests? Angela glances at the clue -- and then decides it's time to show off a little power. Completely in the open, uncaring about who hears what: "Phillip, you're on Gardener. Tony, take Gary. I'll follow Mary-Jane -- Robin, you get Alex. If any of them find the idol, report back to me." And with all of Turare staring at her in open disbelief about that particular power play, "And if you can beat them to it, all the better." She glances up at the sky. "There's more daylight left than we've had the last few times -- maybe you can even get it today. Stay on them until Council." Haraiki nods, although there's a little distaste in the ones that come from Robin and Phillip. And then she looks at us. "Sorry -- but you know how it has to work." Gary. "Right." About as flavorless as I've ever heard him. "You're just doing what you have to." And now I want to get out of camp again. Normally, I'd use the first chance to get out of the stupid swimsuit, rinse off the salt, but... "Azure, stay." This time, she figures out that the tone means I'm not in an arguing mood: right to the perch. Plus we just killed something the other day and she's not expecting the next time to be for a few more. "Fine. Whatever." Words she should be familiar with. "I'll just let you get the chance to talk the others into a unified mercy vote --" biting down on the words "-- without me there to argue. See you later." I head right back for the beach. Angela has only one response to that: "Robin, stay with her." The groan isn't exactly completely forced. "I don't know what it means, okay? I'm just going out." Dryly, "The last time you went out by yourself because you were mad..." Angela may not like it, but she's willing to use it. "I won't be alone this time." Technically, I wasn't alone last time. I'm not counting Jake. "Robin, change or don't, I'm not waiting for you..." And out. Robin catches up a few seconds later. She's elected not to change: still in her dark blue two-piece, considerably more covering than Mary-Jane's, maybe three hundred percent extra material -- which means four postage stamps per side as opposed to one. "Great. Her Highness has me on shadow duty." Open resentment there. "So don't follow me." Please don't follow me. "That'll show her, right?" A hot, dry breeze comes off the back of the island, bringing sweat wherever it touches us. Robin sighs. "Damn it, Alex -- look, I don't want you out tomorrow, all right? Strategically, I'd get rid of Gardener if I didn't still have some faint hopes of getting him to play heat engine on a night when we actually need it." Huh? "Dumping you right after that happened -- it sucks. We can get rid of you guys in any order and it doesn't matter much except for the checks. Put it all together and I might vote out Mary-Jane tonight." Hooray for Robin's strategy. "But if we don't vote as a unit, we're screwed and I know it. I don't like Angela, but I've got to know when she's making sense." Gardener's echo, all right. "We have to know who finds the idol." Shrug as rapid-fire weapon: target acquired, locked... "Whatever." I'm walking too fast. The pain adds force to the final launch. "You could always switch. Their five becomes our five." "And get what?" Slightly wounded, but still capable of returning fire. "Fifth place? I've got third now." "If you believe that." Although according to Mary-Jane -- -- bingo. "Hell yes, I believe that. Connie's a bitch: I can't believe she's been quiet in camp this long. It's too late to get Angela to stand her. Phillip's too nice a guy to be in front of a jury with: seven-zero, hello, record! Angela doesn't think enough of me to see me as a threat." Then we've got something in common. Angela doesn't see me as a threat either. Or at least, that's the way Angela's openly playing it: her subconscious seems to be casting its own ballot. "How about keeping Connie as a back-up? She can be beaten in the challenges: we're seeing that." "You don't get it." No, I do. You don't. We're heading towards Challenge Beach, up the Cliffs. "They can't stand each other. There's no way Angela's hauling Connie along for one vote longer than absolutely necessary. Since we're voting as a unit, that's fifth place." More slowly, "Alex, you should be taking it easy in the shelter. This isn't the time for a damned forced march." My feet are hitting the ground a little hard. The secondary results aren't pleasant, but there's so much of an ache present already, they just blended in. "I can take it easy in the mansion after tomorrow night." Phoenix. Death. Screw you, Trina. Rebirth. Flames. Can't go to the fireplace at Council. Not going to be hanging off one of our torches. Climbing trees to find birds' nests -- yeah, right. What am I missing? "Right now, your job is to follow me. You can tell me what to do at the vote tomorrow." Robin groans, and it's just about the most sincere thing I've heard all day. "Damn it, Alex -- I kind of like you, but you are the most stubborn bitch... You're sure your mother didn't drive across the line before she dropped you off? Because you've got a pure New York attitude, takes one to know one, and you're taking this too damn personally." Oh, right. She likes me. How very nice to know. And my pallet will be short-sheeted tonight, just as soon as someone finds a sheet. "You're following me. How am I supposed to take it?" Feathers, magic, beaks, flame... Harshly, starting to get a little angry. "It's the game." "I know." A little faster. "I said as much to Angela. It still doesn't mean I have to like it." "Yeah," and now she's made it all the way to bitter. "You don't like much, do you? From what I can see, you sure don't like me. And I don't see a lot of 'like' with your own damn group, not from you going back. It's as if you don't like anyone." Stop. Turn. Look up just enough. Lock eyes, fringe of red hair descending across her right one, blown by the hot wind -- Heat. Flame. Fire. Wood. Phoenix -- Looking at each other. Robin's not backing down. I'm not sure Robin's capable of backing down. "Your -- 'job' -- is to follow me." I break contact first, start moving. I need a second here, maybe two or three... She's not moving yet. Probably basking in a mini-victory. Easy enough to picture that in Robin. "You took the assignment: don't blame me if you don't like it." Another step, and now she's starting to move. "There's just one problem with your doing everything Angela says without question." "Yeah?" A little calmer, but still very challenging. "What? Looking like a pawn in front of the jury?" "No." The problem is that Angela likes to forget things which are inconvenient for her to believe. And Angela forgot that over a long stretch, I'm faster than you. Run! I take off. Behind me, Robin wastes a second on a gasp, one more moment where I'm moving and she's caught flatfooted, but then she starts to race, and we're on again. My body is screaming at me and I'm directing everything to take a number, it can hurt tomorrow, it can even hurt on Day Twenty-Five if I'm right, if I'm finally right again with time left on the clock to be right in, if I'm wrong, then it was all for nothing and I'll stare at the shelter roof with eyes open wide in agony until well after midnight, but if I'm right -- -- pushing, Robin's right behind me, and now she's in trouble, because she can't try to stop me: no physical conflict between contestants. Phillip got away with grappling Gardener yesterday because he was trying to prevent a fight: Robin can't tackle me, can't grab my shoulders, can't touch -- and she's not fast enough to get in front of me and force me to stop before hitting her. Adrenaline surging again, starting to mute the pain a little, and Robin is making her first, best mistake. She's talking. "Alex, damn it...!" Every breath she uses that way is one more that isn't going into running efficiency. Swimsuit reinforcements hurt but they're doing the job, legs screaming with non-existent lungs but cooperating, shoulders on fire... "Alex, what the hell are you doing?!" And that must have dropped her an extra step back. Cresting the Cliffs... I'm not a distance runner. I'm not designed for running at all. I've turned myself, step by often-weary step, into a distance hiker. But fast movement over a long period, sending vibrations through my frame and giving them no place to go except crashing in on each other -- always relying on the short sprint: get away, get out of sight, hide, and now I can hear our camera operators behind us, they can't tell us to stop because they can't spare the breath, and running is legal within the game anyway. You can't lose your camera operator without facing a few hard questions. You can try to lose another player. If shaking your camera operator happens, so be it. They had to know the shadowing was going to take place during idol hunts, they had to know what was going to follow. This is a race. It's not the Race and I don't have to slow down because I'm getting out of close filming range. I just have to run -- -- my body isn't designed to run, not whole and not when it's injured -- -- and it's doing it anyway, but I'm going to pay for it -- -- across Challenge Beach, pushing, pushing, I've been doing this for too long already and now the fire is in my lungs, good, getting and keeping fire is what this is about, something just hit the sand and it wasn't Robin: too much weight. I think a camera operator just tripped. Not my problem. Robin sounds like she's getting closer. "You're crazy! You don't even know where you're going!" Which drops her back again. Thank you, Robin. Thank you for your total inability to shut up when the situation calls for it. I'm relishing every word, and I hope they get louder because my ears are starting to roar. "Stop!" And thank you for that. Keep going, don't think about the grinding against my shoulders, don't think about the pain from my left arm as the bandage shifts a little and sweat comes up from whatever working pores remain, don't think about more drops trying for my eyes in the middle of this effort on the hottest day yet, don't think -- -- just run -- -- except that I can think about one thing. Running down Haraiki's path, Robin still too close behind, "It doesn't matter if you lose me or not!" No, it doesn't. I just have to stay ahead of her. I can't isolate body parts any more except for my shoulders, which weren't even remotely ready for this. This was not the motion I was supposed to be making in a swimsuit, and the structuring wasn't designed to prevent rubbing and abrasion. Breasts: behaving. Built-in internal shoulder straps and reinforcements: moving like hell, and there's going to be more than two abraded areas when this is done. It hurts. But I don't care. It can hurt as much as it has to, because all the pain will be worth it if I see the look on Angela's face when -- -- Phoenix. Fire. Rising -- Haraiki's camp. Fire pit. No problem with my visual memory: changed course right for it, but Robin knows her old camp better than I do, she's better at cornering, closer, she sees where I'm looking and loses another split-second to a gasp, we can both see it, there's been a little breeze ever since we left camp -- -- and I dive for it. On my side, it's going to be bad enough sliding that way but I can't slide on my front, the side at least has some protection and the compression won't kill me, there's a gap in the clumsy fire pit, what would normally be just a small lump in the ashes, but there's been a breeze, there's still sunlight, we both saw the glint, and Robin can't do anything, can't dive after me because she might come down on top of me and then she's out, can't go around because it's slower, can't do anything but watch as I skid across the ground, left thigh just took a cut on something, idiots didn't even clean out their area completely, fingers stretching, a cloud of gray dust -- -- silence. I am prone, resting on my left side (which hurts twice as much as the right), eyes closed, hand in the middle of the cold fire pit, arm thrust through the gap. Robin pulled up short, standing just about directly over me, breathing heavily. I can hear the camera again. I can hear my heartbeat, pounding away -- -- I can hear the future -- -- I roll onto my back. It's not a deliberate thing. There are exactly three things I'm thinking about right now. How fast I'm breathing: very. How much pain I'm in. Lots. And -- -- I thrust my left arm into the air. "Three -- more -- days!" And then I get to lie there regretting it. Dramatic gestures are nice, but this one hurt. I'm waiting for the pain to go away. It's not cooperating. In fact, now that I've stopped moving, it's worse... Time passes. I don't know how much. I'm not even counting breaths. Gardener said they made him give back the watch. Too bad. I'd take that for a Reward -- and Robin starts talking again. "I thought you were trying to lose me --" It comes as something of an incredibly tiny consolation that she's gasping herself. "Until the last twenty feet, I didn't realize you were after something... damn it, I do like you, you stubborn, obstinate, virtually-Scottish bitch..." Uh-huh. Whatever. As long as I get to lie here until Council starts, she can tell whatever lies she wants to. "Tell me what the clue was already. I'm looking at the damn thing in your hand and I still haven't worked this one out." "Phoenixes rise -- from the ashes." I'm not trying to work dramatic pauses to go with the earlier gesture. I'm just hurting that much. I'm not even sure about lowering my arm. "Only real major source of ashes around here -- abandoned camp..." I open my eyes. Robin's still standing just about directly over me, looking down with a very amused (and slightly worried) expression. "Wouldn't be surprised -- if we heard -- seven people right behind us..." This one wasn't hard. Robin disagrees. "They're probably thinking fire. Or looking for fireworks somewhere, or a camera operator reading Rowling..." She sighs, shakes her head twice, slowly. "Looks like Angela can call off the hounds. Let's get you back to camp." She holds out a hand, apparently meaning for me to take it and pull myself up. The hell with that: I'm sitting up on my own. (The time it takes to regret it is slightly less than the time required for the original decision.) "Yeah... give the others a break..." Try to stand. I actually get it done in one attempt. My shoulders feel sticky. I'm hoping it's just sweat. "That's enough of a challenge for me today." "Tomorrow," Robin says firmly, "you sleep in." I'm not prepared to argue with that. "Thanks a lot, Alex -- that just cost me my eye candy. Gardener's out after this, damn it... now I've got nothing to look at..." More frustrated than angry. "Gardener's really separated, right?" "Right." Try a step. It works. It's going to take a while to try the virtual million or so of them it'll take to get back to camp. "His wife's name is Audrey." Robin sighs. "Figures. The good ones are always taken." She waits for me to find a pace of sorts, then slips in beside me. "Gardener's a good one?" This would be news. This would also be sports, weather, and anything else filed under the newspaper's 'Weird' column. As catches go, Gardener is now officially a rain of fish. "Better than you probably think," she answers -- then "I'd go ahead, but you look like you're about to fall over." The next part is either referring to the run or the possibility of a collapse. "You can't do that." And this comes out with admiration. "Not the day after taking that fall." Oh, she meant the run. Trust me, I'm paying for it. Medical's probably going to want a look at me when I get back, but they won't be able to justify anything more than that. "You weren't on the block... I was..." And this sigh goes very deep. "I hope I've got your stubbornness when Final Three hits." Another head shake. "I'll be standing on whatever we're supposed to balance on in the fourth hour or so while Angela's teetering, thinking 'God, let me be as stupidly self-destructive as Alex for just a few more minutes...' Take your time, damn it. Don't try to pick up your pace on my account. Trust me, the idol will keep." We make our way back, very slowly: the sun is just about down by the time we get into camp. Robin's first act is to announce that I've got the idol. Angela's first response is to turn an interesting shade of pale -- then shrug, walk up to me, and say "Fine. Two more challenges. Congratulations," offering her hand, getting it rejected, then almost forcibly pulling Robin aside to ask her about the clue. I don't hear Robin's exact response, but I do get Angela's: "Figures... She's a cartoonist -- got to be fantasy stuff. She probably knows myths." So now I'm average with two workable talents. Gary and Mary-Jane come up to me, look over the idol -- it's our old one: Haraiki's was a slightly different shade -- congratulate me, smile a lot. And then, working in silently-made mutual agreement, try to hustle me into the shelter. I refuse. I have to get into the bathroom and change out of the swimsuit. I have to see just how much the dash cost me. Gardener doesn't come up to me. He just looks at me from a distance, nods once, and silently walks out to the beach. I know why. I'll be in the game for three extra days. But my gaining eighth place means that ninth is now his. When I see him on Day Twenty-Seven, I'll be also looking at him from a distance, from the player seats to the jury box. He knows it. I know it. There's no stopping it. I get into the bathroom. My shoulders aren't bleeding, but they are rubbed raw, an angry red and painful to the touch. (And it's not getting a chance to heal without additional pressure: I can't go braless. I'll just have to be really careful about moving for the next day. As in 'not doing any'.) None of the injuries are worse: they just feel like it. All I did was pick up a small cut on my left thigh, already clotted, and that was my own stupid fault for being in the swimsuit. At least I'd been wearing sneakers... Robin was still in sandals, maybe that helped me keep a little extra lead on her despite my injuries. Three more days. But that's all it is -- -- and I know what I have to do. I blink. The idea is still there. It won't go away. I almost want it to. It's clearly not stable enough to be allowed near people. This is insane! I can't do it. I can't. It just isn't done! I can almost hear hundreds of previous players screaming at me, telling me how stupid I'm thinking of being, I can't do this, not if I want to stay in the game at all, I can't... The only way out is to do the unthinkable. And even then, it might not work... No. I have a plan. The fact that it's completely and utterly insane is either a bonus or one hell of a discussion point for the viewers after it fails. -----------------------------------------------------------------   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Belle Book 1925 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser" 02-19-10, 08:44 PM (EST) 17. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Part IV" Normally, I'd agree with Alex that whatever she's thinking of just can't -- or at least, shouldn't -- be done. Then again, she's desperate -- and sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-25-06, 09:46 PM (EST) 11. "The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Conclusion" LAST EDITED ON 10-05-06 AT 03:08 PM (EST) {And this is Angela really lording it -- queening it? -- over Turare. 'Go ahead and search: if we don't beat you to it, then your having it still won't matter.' Alex not taking it well: she's first out. No one really taking it well -- Gardener telling Phillip he hopes his shadow can walk fast, then making a beeline for the storage shack. Checking the reserve firewood. Nothing there. Phillip just watches quietly.} {Mary-Jane in confessional. "I don't know it and I'm not going to look, because I might stumble onto it and give it to Angela in the process. Maybe it'll give someone else a better chance. I still owe a lot of apologies." Or if you want to hear it another way, 'I know I'm dead -- just not yet.' M-J's bill isn't quite due.} {Back out to Alex & Robin -- conversation, Alex moving in some pain, Robin bringing the headache on top of it -- she's really convinced she's in third place. And if she got on an immunity run starting from fifth on, which is when I've got her out, she could make it -- but right now, she's just being more than a little stubbornly stupid. And accusing Alex of the same thing.} {Hang on: just got to engrave this stone and place it over Robin's Swing Chances: Episodes #1 through #8, inclusive. Met an innocent, idiotic demise due to owner having a head made out of solid granite.} {Both of them very confrontational -- bet that 'like' quote is making the editing thread tomorrow.} {Whoa!} {There goes Alex! And there goes Robin, right behind her! Cameras scrambling to keep up!} {What's Alex doing? Can't see her face, but this has got to be costing her -- she can't be doing this just to shake Robin and make Angela look bad!} {This is Alex we're talking about. So far, she's had reasons for everything, even if she's like the damn Riddlemaster's clues and we only understand them after they happen...} {She knows where the idol is! She's got to!} {Hell, I just worked it out! Haraiki's fire pit! Phoenix rising from the ashes!} {Just lost Camera #2... this is how much the crew has worked into the season: they gave us the splat.} {Robin in some trouble, but staying close... closer still if she'd stop talking...} {I don't like the sound of Alex's breathing -- if this is Turare to Haraiki for distance, then we're looking at a really long run in her condition.} {Last camera still staying with them -- Haraiki's camp -- Alex going for the fire pit, Alex sliding -- inside the park home run!} {Cheer with me now! Evil! Evil! We love the Alex evil!} {Okay, Cole. Three more days. But you'd better keep finding that thing or it's not going to be six.} {Back to a last-name basis, are we? Interesting timing. Desperate cover-up. Failed.} {And now I understand Alex's last line before she ran -- remember the firing range course, where Alex almost passed Robin? She is faster. If Robin had questioned Angela, switched off to Mary-Jane and put Angela on Alex, then Alex loses that race.} {Great line by Robin just before we switch back to camp.} {Alex refusing to shake Angela's hand -- Angela in confessional, saying "I think I'm safe from Alex finding it again. I doubt we're going to have a single clue based around superheroes." Probably won't have any based on butterfly ballots, either.} {Gardener in the hammock, frustrated with absolutely nowhere to put it. The line has been re-implanted in his ass, and he couldn't get it out with a full surgical team.} {Connie in confessional with a priceless one. "I know this is a test. I was just really hoping it was going to be more along the lines of a pop quiz."} {Shot of Gardener lying back in the hammock, watching the stars. He knows he's gone. No one in Haraiki is swinging -- 5-4, good night, irritable one. We'll see what sort of question you fire from the jury. I'm predicting he'll have the best one.} {Time-lapse -- Day Twenty-Four, and sure enough, Gardener isn't trying to save himself with attempts to swing votes that won't move. Mostly, he's just acting like it's a normal day in camp. We get to see him pull Gary aside, says a few words about how it was good to be on the same tribe with him -- a lot like what he said to Alex when he thought she was going, except now it's him saying goodbye to the group. But he's fishing, bringing in water... the usual. He had his chance to calm down and he's taking it well.} {Robin's confessional: "I'm glad Alex saved herself. I'm pissed off about losing Gardener. I hope his wife got to see him reject me." And just to get the misdirection going, "Don't think any of that means I'm changing my vote."} {Let's just get to Council and get the first gong ringing over with.} ----------------------------------------------------------------- It takes a while before I can find the chance to approach Gardener, but the opportunity comes: with Angela distracted by Tony (who's showing her just how well he can dive off the top of the waterfall -- hopefully very well, at least for him, or Council is going to become moot), Robin complaining to Phillip again, and Connie carefully removed from action by a well-timed Gary consult -- it's amazing how Bible questions can crop up at any moment -- I get to go up to him unobserved, at least by people who aren't carrying thousands of dollars in electronics with them or ones who aren't covered in feathers and riding my left shoulder. He's in the shallows, just finishing what appears to have been a dry fishing run: not a scale in sight. "Hey. Got a minute?" He sighs. Still very rare for him, especially when it sounds halfway sincere. It's not enough for Azure to try and duplicate it. "Is this going to be an apology for finding the thing? Don't bother." I try to speak, but he cuts me off. "You know what the ultimate decision is for predators? 'It's you or me and I choose me.' You made that choice with the jaguar because you were fighting for your life and the other option was just stupid. You made it in finding the idol because that was your game life and it was the only thing that would work. I'll be seeing you soon enough on my side of the Council set, but -- you beat me. Congratulations." The man does not have an exclusive license on being irritated. "Let's try this again." Sharply, "I'm still in pain from the last couple of days. I don't have a lot of patience right now and just walking out to find you gave me some feelings you wouldn't want to go through." Although as a former football player, he probably knows what it's like to try moving around after having been hit by several trucks. Not-Our-Gary and Gardener could compare notes. Target, truck. Truck, target. Maybe now you two can get along. "I need a minute." Gardener shrugs. "Okay, so it's a long apology." Exasperated, "Go ahead." I shake my head. "We need privacy." I start up the challenge trail. Frustrated, "I see the sketchbook, so I'm guessing this is one last portrait." Which gets a nod from me. "That's what we're doing." When we get back, Gardener will have a new image in the book, because that will convince people of what we were doing... "It's only a couple of hours to Council -- hurry up." "You're the slowest person here right now." I'm pretty much half-limping along. No muscle pulls, but some things are more sore than others, so uneven movement actually helps, although Azure occasionally hops down when the ride gets too rocky. "Whatever... as long as I get a copy..." Up the trail, to the Council path, down it for fifty paces -- and then I go back to make sure we weren't followed while Gardener watches me, confusion mixing with amusement and irritation. "I know you can work with people watching you." "Not like this." I can't do this. I can't. And now I can hear the voices of a hundred past players screaming at me, telling me how stupid I'm being, no one does this, no one can do it, not when they're on the line themselves, this is wrong... I reach into my pocket. Remove the idol. Hold it out. "Take it." Gardener's jaw drops at the exact moment his knees develop ten degrees of bend: suddenly, he's about an inch shorter. "...what?" "Take it." I'm practically pushing it at him. "We don't have much time, and I have to start drawing --" "You're volunteering to go out instead of me?" No, he has no idea what's going on. Why should he? No one ever does this, and he's headed straight for the slightly less unbelievable option. "Alex, I make more money than you, I know that. I'm not going to win every damn Immunity and take revenge for Turare. Don't throw away a couple of thousand dollars because --" "Shut up." It's the harshest whisper I've ever made, and Gardener actually shuts up, probably from surprise. And now he's down to six-foot-one. "I spent a lot of the morning hunting for a rock that would pass for the idol in my pocket. I got one. I almost had to use a wood chip. Everyone knows I have the idol. Everyone knows I'd go out tonight without it. No one gives up Immunity when they're the one at risk. Ever." I haven't dropped my arm yet. My shoulder is starting to feel sore. "This is the move no one expects, because no one in the history of this game has been insane enough to do it and in the kind of position where it might work." And now comprehension is starting to dawn on his face. Work it out, Gardener: the impossible is in front of you, but you can see it for what it is, I know you're not stupid... As slowly as his words have ever emerged, at a time when we need every second, "You're -- getting the tie back." I nod, very quickly. So does Azure. Maybe he'll take the double hint. "They're all voting for you. I know it. I have the idol: they know I have the idol. That means I don't have to actually have it. They vote -- you use the idol -- and we bounce to Angela. Four to four -- we've got another chance. The Pagonging is either stalled or averted -- it depends on what we do next -- but if there's a 'we' and we work it right..." His big hand, much less scarred than Phillip's, but with considerably larger knuckles, starts to come up, reaching -- then hesitates. "I could just go up to Angela -- show her the idol, tell her to vote for you, give her what she seems to want, maybe try to work it to create a way in. How do you know I won't?" The words are almost spat. "Because that's not the way you work. Because you know it won't work." And the ones that hurt to say, "I'm just going to have to trust you." For just long enough... He looks at me -- looks at the idol -- then softly says "Final Four." "...what?" No, really. What? "If this works, Alex -- Final Four. That's a promise." His eyes are about three-quarters of the way to fully open. "Because you could be selling me out somehow -- hell, for all I know, Gary's the target and this is the blindside bounce of all time --" Gary knows exactly what I'm doing. He'd helped me find the stone I'm going to use for a replacement idol bulge. He'd understood what I was trying to do. It had taken what I had guessed was ten minutes before he fully believed I was really going to do it. But once he understood, he'd done whatever he could to help. Connie was out of action because Gary had her distracted. If a chance came up to mention the idol, then Gary would talk about my having it. I hadn't told Mary-Jane. She was going to vote for Angela anyway, just to cast a useless protest ballot: she'd said as much the previous night. Another little 'try getting my vote' message from a future juror. I didn't think she'd switch again, and it didn't matter if she somehow did. We only needed three to guarantee the bounce would move in the right direction. With Gardener, we had them. "-- but you're not. Because I trust you, damn me. I shouldn't and I do..." He trails off -- then puts his right hand out, palm up. A moment of nerve-wracking hesitation -- and I drop the idol in it. He nods. "Final Four." "If it works," I remind him -- if he doesn't sell me out -- "and we get the vote after this, then there's only four of us left anyway." Except that he's got something at the back of his mind, I know he does, I've known it for over a week... ...and that might be our best chance... A sharp burst of laughter. "It's going to work." He tucks the idol into his pocket. "Shake on it. No dead grandmothers, neither of us has any kids to swear on and doing it on my trainees isn't any good -- but shake on it anyway. Just to seal it." I do. "Because if this works, then you've earned Final Four. From there..." This time, the trail-off is entirely deliberate. From there, you'll be trying to see how your own plan works. Because if this works, you're set up just right for it... "...who knows?" I finish for him. "Can you smuggle it into your bag without getting caught?" I wish he had a shirt on: the untucked edges would cover the pocket bulge. "That's standing out a little too much..." Gardener glances down. "Oh. Yeah. Damn... okay, swimsuit it is. Glad I wear boxers. I'll get back, make a run for the bathroom, take my clothes inside and change for Council. From there, I can just stay at the back of the line and slip it in. Where's your replacement idol?" "With me." Cleavage. I couldn't risk looking like I was carrying two of them. "I'll put it in my pocket after you start back. Or I'll get ahead and give you some privacy. It's probably best if we arrive slightly apart." Or not. This is the hardest thing to work. Will anyone suspect the possibility -- something, anything beyond a final sketch? No one ever does this... and that's our best shield. "Come on -- we don't have much time." I open the sketchbook to a blank page. "Strike a pose." Gardener does -- then looks at me again. "Alex, I swear on -- everything's pretty much gone bad for promises in this game, hasn't it?" He pauses, searching... "On my wife." Directly at me, "Because if I broke that, she'd never take me back. I swear on Audrey: Final Four." We'll see. Whatever. Uh-huh. Take your pick. Sketching... I may have just committed the most elaborate suicide in series history. He's holding the pose, I'm working, now we need to take just a little time off the clock, enough for a quality sketch (but one where I'm working a little faster than usual), and that gives him so much less time to build deals with his new power tool... time passing... done. "Okay." I give him some privacy, he returns the favor, and the switch is made: my replacement idol into my pocket, the real one somewhere I'm not thinking about. "Let's get back." He nods -- then, one last time, because it's the lie he wanted to get away with and he's really trying to sell it: "Final Four." I force myself to nod back. ----------------------------------------------------------------- {Angela gathers Haraiki for a five-second conference. Quick shot of our target for the evening with Alex -- she does one last drawing of him -- really good one, too -- and promises to send him a copy. A nice, peaceful dissolve of the secret alliance. I hope Julie asks him about it tomorrow.} {And to hope is to know it'll never happen.} {Everyone gathering their torches, Gardener giving his a long look as he lights it, the line of fire heading out... Tribal Council} ----------------------------------------------------------------- We've been talking for a while. Most of it has been Immunity challenge discussion and camp life in a site where one tribe has the power and the other gets to sit and wait it out for varying durations. This is deliberate on Jeff's part: he's been making sure we're comfortable with talking before he works into the hard part. He's even willing to admit it. "And now that we're all warmed up -- Alex." I was waiting for this. "I've seen the footage of that fight. I've seen it eight times, forwards and backwards, at all sorts of speeds. And the more I see it, the more I can't believe you're still here." Just a very little bit softly, "I made it." And the same amount channeled towards volume, "That's what counts. Sometimes it's about the journey and sometimes it's about the destination. This was the later. I got to the end in one piece." Ruefully, "One very sore, bruised, painful piece..." Tony laughs. "Maybe I'll be out three nights from now, but for tonight, I feel like I really survived." He smiles. "We'll have to bring in an animal attack every season just to make the game feel more authentic. Too bad -- until now, the humans did the trick every time... Angela, what was your first reaction when you saw Alex come back into camp?" "Shock," Angela admits. "It took a few seconds to identify the jaguar, and then -- I didn't know. I couldn't believe she'd just found a body somewhere -- maybe she'd come across a dying one and it gave her one last swipe -- but from everything you said..." From everything Jeff's said, Angela's still holding with her own opinion. "I'm glad our camera people are all armed now. That was the last one, I agree with that -- but better safe than sorry. Six hours of sleep, I can live with." We had told Haraiki about the original -- actually, second -- incident with Jake. Connie hadn't been happy about it, but very little makes her anything other than discontent or worse. Tony nods. "I'm glad Alex came back. Everyone who leaves this game should go out on their feet and carrying their torch up to you, Jeff. All the other options suck too much." Angela's willing to let him get away with that. But if we're talking about my being okay... "Connie, you left camp immediately after Alex returned. Why?" Jeff does not miss many cues when he's had the chance to plan them out in advance. This shiver has to be faked. "I can't stand blood." Looking around at the rest of Haraiki, "And now if we have to drink any, you know I'm out." Phillip smiles, but there's an uncertain quality to it. "It does her no good if I'm retching all over camp while someone's trying to tend to her. I left and came back when I felt better. I'm not trained in first aid, and I don't have Phillip's -- experience -- in crisis control." Which makes the smile vanish. "I just would have gotten in the way." "So you're not sorry Alex is still here?" Jeff deliberately probing at the sore spot. "I agree with Tony," Connie immediately replies. "Do I want Alex out of the game? Of course: she's not in my alliance. Would I be voting for her tonight if she didn't have the idol? Naturally. But as he said, she'd leave on her feet. I don't want to see anyone hurt." I think about the charge during the blindfold challenge -- Jeff may be remembering it, too, he's not buying this -- and wonder how good an actor Connie is. Gardener did speak to her after he got back. He spoke to all of Haraiki. I overheard some friendly goodbyes to Phillip and a promise to get him up to Michigan if and when Wolverines/Cornhuskers came around. He even told Angela he'd see if he could renew a debate at the Reunion. But that was just what I heard... Jeff decides not to press the matter just yet. As far as the others know, there's at least one more Council waiting for both of us. "Alex, how happy are you to be holding that idol?" At least he didn't ask me to take it out. I pat my pocket. "Very." Wearily, "Although getting it was just about as bad as fighting the jaguar." Robin laughs. "You got it, you paid for it. At least you got to rest a little today in between doing all that sketching." I'd gotten an extra one of her in the morning. With a shrug, "That's how I relax... I do feel better today." A little. I know my body's healing rate very well: if I see Day Twenty-Eight, I'll be back to some kind of workable level again. Day Thirty-One, and all that'll be left is some residual discoloration for the bruises. My arm -- no idea, although Dietrich thinks the bandage might come off for good before I go home. It's been changed once so far. I haven't looked at what was underneath, on doctor's slightly stupid orders. "But most of that is the other kind of relaxing." I point to Tony. "The kind he's got." Tony's laughing very easily tonight. That's part of what comes from having the necklace. "Yeah. It's not my look, but it's definitely my feel." Jeff easily returns the topic to the jaguar, and we all discuss it for a while. Since he's heard from me himself and the others have had the story via the same source, this is mostly about their own reactions. Gardener's is the coldest. "In order, when I saw her? That we needed a medic. That Jake was a dead man. And that we also needed a coroner. Phillip's talked to me about how a man who doesn't keep his promises isn't a man, mostly when I was trying to swing his vote. One who does nothing when a woman is in danger earned the right to lose his manhood the hard way. I'm buying Cameron the drink of his choice when I get the chance, and Jake should do the same -- because he kept Jake out of a wheelchair. Would have made a lousy harem guard, too -- and I think that's the last traditional occupation for eunuchs." Mary-Jane still has some chills. "Alex is taking the scarring a lot better than I would. I know that for her, the important thing is that she can still draw, and I understand that. But for me, it would have been the end of my career. No one would have hired me with that kind of marking. I could have tried to go into fully clothed shots, or use the scars as some kind of signature, but I don't know if it would have worked..." Softly, "Maybe that's part of why I've been the one with the nightmares." And for Phillip, it goes back to his father's death. He's very careful to give us nothing more than the weakest general idea of the details. It's still enough to make me wonder how he ever came through it in one piece. "Not again. That was most of what I was thinking. Just that I couldn't stand by and watch someone go again. I acted for my dad, I tried -- but I didn't know enough, and it turned out it wouldn't have mattered anyway. So now I know a little more, and maybe it helped a little..." "You paid me back for the promise," I tell him. Some of the darkness lifts from his eyes. "The sooner the wounds were cleaned, the better -- it helped." Phillip accepts that with a quiet nod, Jeff verifies the nature of the promise -- he knows about the urn from an earlier Council -- and moves on to Reward challenge discussion, the highlight of which comes when he looks at Gardener, then at Mary-Jane, finally to me, and says "If one of you is going to do something that's going to drive another one of our sponsors insane when the show is aired, I'd appreciate some warning..." This gets a group laugh and Tony protesting that he personally can't give a guarantee until he finds out just who's giving us the car, because he hates Chevrolet after spending five years tooling around the minors in a beat-up Chevette -- or, as he describes it, an engine surrounded by four pieces of drywall. Back to Gardener, talking about the vote. "I'm out tonight. Of course I'm out tonight -- right, Angela?" She nods, and now I'm trying not to shiver. "No blindside, no deception -- just a simple fact of numbers. After this, I sit over there --" a point to the empty jury area "and do my best not to forget anything said over here. Or anything that happened before I left. I do listen -- and I'm going to make my final decision based on everything I hear." A pause. "And how pissed off I am at the time." And finally, after Angela is made to wrap up a diatribe about what's fundamentally wrong with hunting that isn't done strictly for survival and how society really should have brought the world past that by now, Jeff gets to the dangerous part. "And now that we've all been educated -- it is time to vote. Tony, you have Immunity. Are you willing to give it up to someone else?" Why, why, why did he have to use that phrasing tonight? Why else? Did he have enough time to hear back from our camera operators, possibly review some footage and get the leading statements ready to go? Tony glances at Angela, my core temperature drops ten degrees -- then shakes his head, and the hypothermia starts to fade. "I'll keep it for tonight. Maybe I like the look after all." Jeff nods. "The hidden idol can't be transferred during Tribal Council, so there's no point in asking." Right, because you could just give it to someone after they were officially voted out. "Gardener, you're first." Gardener gets up, heads out, comes back fairly quickly. In the waiting stage again, looking to see who can be trusted to keep their word and who can't, not to mention for how long. I couldn't watch Gardener for his whole time in camp after we got back, I couldn't hear every word. He could have backstabbed me, formed some sort of deal in the absolute knowledge that no matter what happened, he wasn't going out this week. He could have -- -- realistically, I probably have no reason to be this paranoid, other than the game itself. But I think I know what Gardener's long-term plan is, should this one work. He might have found a way to start it early. And while he swore on his wife, there's this small matter of their being separated... ...and I really, really wish the memories of all those past players would stop screaming in my ear. I think my virtual Hunter's called me an idiot about sixty times, and that's just since Council started. Nothing I can do now but wait. If this doesn't work, the discussion boards are going to die laughing. Server overload just from all the new people who'll join so they can type 'Ha!' Tony. Mary-Jane. Angela. Phillip. Connie. Gary. Me. I collect Azure -- if this goes horribly wrong, it'll save me a step later -- and head out to the voting blind. Oddly appropriate, that, and I never thought about it until just now. I am voting blind, every time. I know what my vote is, and then the fog of war closes in... I don't bother trying to change my handwriting from the previously-seen eighth vote. And this is the eighth vote -- figures... For both order cast and the number of Tribal Councils the season has had. If that somewhat equals karma, I'm in deep trouble. Six letters: Angela. Look into camera. Think really hard and try to get something to say... "I respect your gameplay. I told you that. I can't respect you as a person. One day, Tony is going to know what you did to him -- and when that happens, whether you ultimately win or lose this game, no prize money will ever let you buy someone's trust back." Will Angela spend her life alone? Does she care? Do I -- -- stop thought, place vote, head back to Council. Robin -- and when she comes back, looking oddly tired, Jeff says his piece and heads out. I start the now-traditional count and get to three hundred and eighty-five just as the door opens again. Jeff takes his position. "After the votes are read, the person voted out will be asked to leave the Tribal Council area immediately." Gardener starts to reach for his bag, then sits back and decides to officially wait it out. Whatever 'it' turns out to be. "I'll read the votes." Cylinder, top, careful replacement, reach inside container... "First vote: Angela." And after the flag, I know the handwriting: Mary-Jane. There was no attempt to change it this time. "Second vote: Angela." Who hasn't reacted, and she doesn't need to. Jeff did this with Tony. She knows she's safe. At most, there are four votes in there for her, and that's just not enough. What matters is going to be the third vote, because Jeff never pulls out three in a row unless it's a landslide and even then, the opposing vote has to come out first. If the vote has a given name on it, then he didn't present the idol to Angela as an alliance induction present, because everything would then bounce back to him -- unless she somehow played him, you know, paranoia is really fascinating stuff when you combine it with a strong imagination -- "Third vote --" Jeff pauses. Is he looking right at me again? How much does he know? The camera operators can radio anything in, but they don't always get out of sight or back to the shielded area in time themselves -- "-- Gardener." Who just nods once, no other movement. "That's two votes Angela, one vote Gardener." And I know. I know it probably hasn't gone wrong. If he'd somehow been played by Angela, he would have reacted more than that. Yes, the next four Haraiki votes could be for me, actually, they could cast two for Gardener, three for me, and bounce me out on an incredible blindside, but -- "Fourth vote -- Tony, two words: 'penmanship class' -- Gardener..." -- they'd have to rally in a hurry -- "We're tied. Fifth vote: Angela." A major hurry. "Sixth vote: Gardener." And now it's too late. This has the potential to be classic. "Seventh vote," Jeff continues, either unaware of the mayhem that may be about to erupt or deciding that it's another good thing to work into slowly, "Angela." Mine, and she knows it: a very quick glance at me. We've gone back to our seating from the previous Council, so all she has to do is look across Mary-Jane, who's ignoring her. I know something you don't... "Eighth vote: Gardener. We're tied, four-four." We know, Jeff. But Gary, Gardener and I know something else. "Ninth vote --" and he could stretch it out, he could try for drama, but Gardener and I were talking about it earlier and in the name of irony, that'll probably make the cut "-- Gardener." Who nods again. Nothing else. "The eighth person voted out of the Society Islands and the first member of our jury --" I swear he's doing the dramatic pause just to make me wait for it. "-- unless Gardener can show me the hidden idol." Angela laughs. I'm not very good with musical notes, but I think it's a low C. "Oh, come on, Jeff -- we all know who's got the idol!" Gardener shrugs, shakes his head. "She's right, Jeff. I know who's got the idol, and I can't show it to you." And this pause is exactly as malicious as they get, with only three -- maybe four -- people knowing it... "How do you feel about 'throw'?" One smooth motion: into the bag, out of the bag, casual underhand toss. Gardener's got good aim, and Jeff's eyes were following his motions: it only takes a quick movement from our host to catch and secure it. Gary finally lets go of the smile he's been holding back for the whole vote. Mary-Jane is in an echo position: staring at me with open delight on her face. Connie's foot slams into the floor. Phillip's jaw drops. Tony nearly goes off his seat. Robin may be having a small seizure. And Angela's internal timer skips directly to triple zero: detonate. "What?!?" For some reason, that tone sounds really familiar... "Jeff -- no! Alex had the idol! We all saw it! She showed it around! She can't just give it up!" Jeff doesn't answer Angela immediately. Instead, he looks at me, shakes his head twice in what's probably faked disbelief, and says a single word. "Finally." And then he goes to Angela. "Yes, she can. The idol is exactly like regular Immunity except for one thing: you just can't transfer it at all during Council, while the necklace can be switched just before the vote. You could always pass off the necklace at camp if you wanted to: whoever walks in with it is the Immunity holder. The same applies for the hidden idol. Alex gave it to Gardener. The idol is still good. Gardener's votes are negated, which means --" There are several things Angela's not very good at, and Jeff just invoked two of them: listening and letting people finish. "But -- no one ever gives up Immunity! No one!" "Burton did," Robin says, just for the sake of disagreeing with Angela. She doesn't sound at all recovered. "He had a spare!" Angela spins back to Jeff -- but just long enough to give him an incredulous look: this isn't happening, so why won't he verify the non-event for the record? -- and then switches to me long enough to deliver her ultimate insult. "Who told you to do that?" Because I'm still not smart enough to have thought of it on my own. "No one." I'm keeping my voice soft. It'll hurt all the more. "You were voting out Gardener. You thought I had the idol. As long as you believed I had it, I didn't have to have it. So I gave it to him -- and guess what, Angela?" Direct eye contact, with Mary-Jane helpfully leaning back to stay out of the way. "We're tied again -- and you're out." Angela stares at me, belatedly realizes she's never going to see any admissions of puppetry victimization from that quarter, and tries for Jeff again -- just in time to hear "Gardener's votes are negated. By a vote of four to nothing --" "No!" A little weaker than before. "Jeff, this is insane..." All of her supports have been knocked out, and the roof is being held up by exactly nothing. And yet, it's still hanging in the air. Teetering -- but it's up there. In a way, it's kind of impressive. And Gardener starts laughing. "Alex specializes in insane. You specialize in pretending. Believe this isn't real all you like, Angela -- you can watch the replay at home until it finally sinks in." Staring at him, confusion transformed into raw fury... "Now stop interrupting. Jeff has something he wants to say." In fact he does. "-- Angela, you are the first member of the jury." Firmly, no-contradiction-brooked, with the confidence of a man who knows he has security waiting in the wings: "You need to bring me your torch." Angela starts to stand up on autopilot -- looks back at Tony, who gives her a helpless shrug -- actually seeks a moment of confirmation from Robin, who's now recovered enough to shrug as well, although Tony never would have added the smirk... Gardener's right. Angela can believe whatever she wants to, and even as she slowly brings her torch up to Jeff, I can see she's trying not to believe this. Angela knows what's happening, understands it -- but all the elements can't be what was explained to her, because she doesn't want it that way. It wasn't me. I didn't just outsmart her. The alliance is broken, the leader cut out, her plans undone -- but it just couldn't have been me. Belief never did create fact. "Angela -- the tribe has spoken." Jeff slowly raises the snuffer. Angela is breathing hard, the visible scar lines stark white against her torch. "It's time for you to go." And her torch goes out -- but she doesn't move. She just stands there, staring at Jeff. "Angela -- now." She breathes in through her teeth, a sharp reversed hiss, takes a hard step past him, angry strides all the way to the door, hand on the knob -- -- stops. Turns. Looks at me. It's starting to become a tradition. "I will never vote for you, Alex. Never!" Well, what do you know? She decided it was me after all. And I'm the better player in two ways now, because I would have voted for her... Calmly, "You think I'll reach the Final Two?" Pause, let it sink in... "I'll take that as a compliment." Angela snarls, the angular lines in her face flushing sharp -- -- through the door. Gone. Jeff watches the wood vibrating in its frame for a few seconds, highly amused -- then turns to us, his composure returned well before his face reaches primary camera range. His voice still carries a bit of that amusement, though. "Now, what was it I said last time? Oh, right -- 'always' ceases to be the case with one exception. No one's ever given up Immunity when it might put them in danger -- until now. The illusion of safety was as good as the real thing -- and now Angela has a new reality to deal with." Slowly, voice deeper than usual, "You don't always know what you think you know. Until a few minutes ago, Angela knew Alex had the idol, she had the majority alliance, and Gardener was out. Now she knows one additional thing: who she won't vote for if half of a given Final Two comes around." He gestures to the torches. "Every ouster has taught a lesson. Remember Angela's -- or you might have to go through a refresher course. Head on back to camp: I'll see you tomorrow." We all stand up, Haraiki still in varying degrees of shellshock, Turare waiting until they get out of Council range before starting to celebrate what might turn out to be another deadlock -- if it actually works out that way this time -- but ready to celebrate anyway. The Pagonging has been, at the absolute minimum, postponed. Doom is no longer a certainty. There may be as little as three days left, or there may be as many as fifteen -- but now that's true for every last one of us. Gardener grabs his torch, still lit after receiving the majority, starts for the exit -- then turns to Jeff. "Oh, yeah -- almost forgot." Jeff, in the middle of storing the votes for what might be a personal museum, waits for it. "Technically -- you owe me a whip." Jeff just barely manages to keep a straight face. Gary bursts out laughing, Mary-Jane comes down with a giggle fit, even Phillip finds a smile -- and back to camp we go. We are four. They are four. Game on. ----------------------------------------------------------------- {...that did not just happen. That did not just happen -- sorry, I was in telepathic rapport with Angela for a few seconds. Did that just happen? Wow!} {Alex -- my god, Alex just gave up Immunity and -- okay, that's it. I'm in. Give me the damn rider sigpic. The Pagonging will not be televised!} {*sigh* And now, a moment of silence while I kiss my PTTE list goodbye. My #1 has gone out. I am screwed.} {Oh, please. You were hooking up the chains and lightning bolts to that thing every other week.} {In case you're keeping count at home, that's a pair of Final Two predictions for Alex now.} {I think we were just guaranteed one extra non-boring episode. Maybe Azure will attack and eat Connie.} {Why would you want such a horrible experience to happen -- to Azure? Connie's mostly artificial ingredients! Poor Azure could get really sick...} {Prediction: tomorrow, the Tarot card thread is going to triple in size.} {Someone TiVo Angela's Early Show appearance. We almost missed getting Desmond to YouTube. She could beat him hollow in the first thirty seconds.} {I give her twenty before she says someone gave Alex the idol.} {And thank you for inspiring the sixty threads I'll have to lock tomorrow.} {Next episode previews -- once again, everyone is scrambling for an extra vote, but it's fifth instead of sixth -- the Reward will take someone to the mansion! Tour time! -- and tune in to the Early Show tomorrow, where the Secret Scene will show a little of Alex giving Gardener the idol!} {Dear Angela, You were manipulative. You were kind of evil. You were stupid. You were Silas. Good riddance. Sincerely, Everybody.} {Hey, Yogi! Guess what? It's not over until it's over!} {And can we get one last demi-insulting remark about Alex to close out the night? It's just not a thread without one.} {No one has ever given up Immunity?} {I'll send you a PM in a few minutes explaining Burton, plus the Heidi/Jenna thing. But until then -- no, this was pretty much unique.} {...*sigh* I'm starting to feel like Gardener. What does it take to get rid of Cole?} {And tonight's answer: 'More than Angela's got!'} {Or what a jaguar's got.} {Well, she is capable of destroying humanity with a single use of a cross. Maybe we just need to launch her at herself...} {So what do you think the ratings are going to look like for tonight?} {Easy. Take Angela's blood pressure reading tomorrow morning. Then add fifty.} {I may regret saying this later, but -- Season! Is! Go!} {Only seven episodes after me. } ----------------------------------------------------------------- . . . . . . . . . . . (End of Episode #8)   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

cahaya 14104 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-25-06, 11:50 PM (EST) 12. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Conclusion" No. I have a plan. The fact that it's completely and utterly insane is either a bonus or one hell of a discussion point for the viewers after it fails. Simply brilliant. Knowing the deviousness of the person who wrote this (you, Estee), I correctly guessed the intent and result immediately, well before reading the last post with the Tribal Council to confirm it. Favorite line: "Belief never did create fact." It's your quote, Estee, nowhere to be found googling the web. Foo dogs by Tribe "Belief never did create fact." - Estee   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 09-27-06, 09:00 AM (EST) 14. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Conclusion" Eventually, someone was going to do it -- in theory. Hopefully. It might even happen in the Cook Islands, but that's talking about the hypothetical future and every time we do that here, people look at us funny. Ask any magician: who needs reality when people are standing ready to put their total faith in illusion? This is just about a quote: 'Most magic comes from knowing one extra fact.' Come to think of it, so do most Three-Card Monte games. Follow the lady...   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

azkate 239 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Network TV Show Guest Star" 09-26-06, 12:31 PM (EST) 13. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Conclusion" I love Tuesdays when Estee posts! And I think I actually guessed one right (but I'm still the loser - sigh). another tribe work of art   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Belle Book 1925 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Herbal Healing Drugs Endorser" 01-10-09, 08:28 PM (EST) 16. "RE: The Following Episode Contains Scenes...: Conclusion" Speaking of symbolism, Alex was dead once -- not literally when the jaguar attacked her, but symbolically -- and she rose from the "ashes" of the cliff. Then Alex was "dead" again after losing Immunity -- only to get the Phoenix clue and rise from the ashes of Hariki's fire pit -- and destroy Angela in the process! Classic! Anyway, here's my love list for this episode: 1. Alex -- yikes! That was a close call! I'm glad you're okay (other than the scarring). And best of all, you got to show Angela what happens to someone who underestimates you! Great job! 2. Phillip -- nice job in helping Alex after she came in from her encounter with the jaguar. But now Angela's gone -- and I don't know if you are capable of stepping up and becoming the leader of Hariki. 3. Gary -- good job in helping Alex with the fake idol that she was going to use to fool Hariki. You're really steadfast to her, and I like that. 4. Mary-Jane -- I felt for you a little. You obviously wanted to help Alex out, and it backfired -- but now Alex helped you and the rest of Turare! You're safe -- for now. 5. Robin -- next time, you should've urged Angela or Tony to shadow Alex. And now that Angela's gone -- maybe you should flip and join Turare -- if you can. 6. Gardner -- nice acting job you pulled there. Not quite as good as Alex's, maybe -- but it did the job. 7. Tony -- poor Tony. You're going to realize you were played and Angela didn't care for you at all -- that's gotta hurt! No amount of money can heal a broken heart. 8. Connie -- "Soulless?" Soulless? That does it -- I officially despise you! Everyone has a soul -- even non-Christians! And Christians are supposed to help others! You are despicable! Before we get to our latest victim: Azure -- well, at least Alex figured out what you meant with the "Over Here!" comments. Too bad it wasn't before the jaguar attacked her! Glad you both are okay! Out: Angela. Like Desmond, you underestimated Alex -- and like him, you paid the price for it. Remember the lesson she taught you -- if you're capable of doing so. Belle Book   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

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