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((Jason Andrews continues from The Land of Shadow))

Jason's run had slown to a walk the further he saw himself from the tar pits and the more certain he was that Paris wasn't following him. He heard voices, shouts, a sound he was certain was a gunshot at one point although it could very easily have been someone hitting something pretty hard, but he kept going.

He wasn't going to finish this the same way he started - running around with only a vague idea of what the hell he was going to do.

The thing was, Jason wanted to live. He wanted to leave this island. He knew this was a zero-sum situation and he knew that a shitload of people were going to have to die for him to be the positive recipient of it. He knew that this meant abandoning friends for his own gain, letting people die, seeing people die, surviving on his own, and eventually, killing someone. He knew, one way or another, that to live he'd have to play by the terrorists rules. Parts of them he was fine with. Others, he wasn't.

Namely, he had no idea how the fuck he was going to kill someone.

Yeah, he'd thought about it - what loner hadn't? The year or so before he met Amanda and Kyran and stuff was awful and he was invaded constantly by thoughts of what it'd be like if everyone he was in class with was no longer there. He'd settled down since then. Half because he gained some goddamn common sense, half because he had people in his life he didn't hate anymore, and another bloody half because he figured out pretty quickly if he got too curious then one day he was going to look it up and then he'd be on some fucking watchlist and he'd never be able to work at a place with a guy's name in the company title, which at one point was all he wanted and now seemed like utopia.

And even from the island on paper, he didn't really have much data to draw off of. As far as he knew, there was only one of these things that had happened. Nick Reid made it off the island after killing the most amount of people of anyone there, but he also pretty much got that way by hunting down everyone else who tried to kill more than once. Not many options besides just replicating something that already worked once.

So that was pretty much where he was at right now. Jason was going to live. He wasn't going to be nice about it, at least to anyone who he didn't give a damn about. He wasn't going to help anyone but himself. But he wasn't going to kill anyone until he had to.

There was a comment about best-laid plans that seemed all too appropriate here, but Jason was not nearly well-read enough or critical enough of his own ideas to run it through.

It occurred at some point in his trek that he hadn't checked which way he was actually walking. The thought of stopping and checking his bearings crossed Jason's mind, but as he mulled it over he recognized the echoes of running water. It sounded like it was coming from inside somewhere, which pretty much narrowed down where he was.

Of course, the fact there was running water probably meant someone else was there. Someone who had stuff. Stuff he could probably take if he felt like it, if it was good enough. Or it could be a trap set by someone thinking further ahead than he was, or someone just left the water running and they were gone ages ago.

Oh well, he was walking in the only front door of the building, so no going back now.

He passed by some toilets, one of which had a door swung wide open, the only one in the room like that. But none of these were a shower, so he wasn't interested right now.

But Jason reached the open showers and suddenly wished he hadn't been so curious.

It's not often you see a friend naked. Especially when they're not the kind of friend you really envision naked. But Amanda White, Jason's best friend since middle school at the latest, was currently standing dead centre in the middle of the entire room of showers, with every single one of them on, every single showerhead rotated slightly upwards as to hit here where she stood. Oh, and she was naked, not sure if that was clear. She was facing one of the walls, not aware he was even there.

Jason was momentarily struck dumb and rooted. Every plan he'd come up with since awakening several hours ago slipped from the corner of his mouth. He watched the water drip down her form. His left hand relaxed from the grip on his estoc, as he stood there, watching.

And then several seconds later, he remembered who exactly he was looking at. And it came rushing back like the water.

"...fucking hell, Manda."

He wasn't sure if she heard him over the torrents, but he turned away, facing back towards the toilet stalls. Jason didn't feel like watching his naked best friend longer than he already had.
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wAtCH thIS giRl gEt SokAiNg wET · The Showers (DANGER ZONE)
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