Episode 5

SURVIVOR: THE INITIATIVE episode 5
Breakdown

DAY 13

TEAM HAMMOND

When Tony Trainer was ten years old, growing up in dangerous Camden, New Jersey, he had had two close friends killed by a kid at school. A white kid with a gun that left two black kids dead. And when the chips fell, it was discovered that a teacher had brought the gun into the school in the first place. A teacher!
While in college, which Tony had risen above all odds to attend, Tony had become a research assistant, working long hours for no pay on various science projects alongside tenured professors. It was a dream until Project Sandstorm happened. An outside agency contracted with the school to weaponize the biologic sand specimens of two super-villains, Sandman and Quicksand, both of whom had been mutated into sand-beings. Things inevitably went wrong, as they are apt to do, and Tony was mutated into another sand being. Calling himself Sandstorm, he’d gone on a rampage and killed one of the professors before Spider-Man stopped him. Tony had learned how to control his new powers, and he’d, of course, claimed that the professor’s death was only an accident. And thus, Tony had formed his mission in life; destroying and defaming government programs and authority figures who sought to create weapons. And what better place to do that than the Initiative, the entire United States government seeking to weaponize every hero out there? Of course, he’d been keeping his true motivations for joining up to himself.
“D’ye think it’ll work, laddie?”
Tony smiled and looked up at his new and unexpected ally, MAULER. Tony had tied himself to Battle Star early in the game. When Battle Star had figured that Tony was black, because of the dark ebony skin the sand mutation had given him, Tony hadn’t dissuaded him, even though he was Caucasian. They’d had an easy, comfortable friendship; just the sort Tony needed to survive in this game. He knew his best route to victory in this game was to fight hard in the challenges and stay under the radar. He’d make it to his ultimate goals better that way. But this alliance, this plan? Perfection.
“Yeah, Brendan, I think our plan will work just fine.”

“Biiiiiiiiill!”
As Lemar Hoskins, Battle Star, watched from his vantage point in the woods, where he’d been exercising, Gomi, that skinny, scrawny white kid, was standing on the shore of the lake that bordered their camp. Gomi was wearing a white tank top and a pair of boxers covered in smiley faces, his thick glasses on his nose. Lemar bet the kid didn’t weigh more than a buck-twenty. How could such a featherweight have ever been drafted into the Initiative, into a super-hero military? So he could talk to a super-strong lobster and fire off blasts from his brain. If the boy couldn’t run, climb a fence, or throw a ball, how was he ever going to survive against the threats he would face in the defense of his country? Lemar pictured Gomi trying to face his old foes in the Watchdogs, in ULTIMATUM, or in the Genesis Coalition. Gomi would be torn to shreds!
Lemar continued watching quietly as Gomi fell on his knees in the muddy sand, took off his glasses, buried his head in his hands, and begin sobbing. As Gomi’s loud wailings echoed over the lake, Lemar stopped himself from going to comfort the young man. Just as he’d stopped himself from standing up to Brother Nature on the behalf of Biohazard. These kids were young and vulnerable, true, but they were out of their element here. Coddling them would not make them into better super heroes or soldiers. They, like him, had chosen to be here, and they had to face up to the difficult stuff just like he had.
Suddenly, Gomi was shouting. “Bill! It’s been a few days since you spoke to me! For the last few years, you’ve been my only friend. No one else likes me or understands me. They think I’m a freak or a nerd or whatever else. I don’t fit in anywhere! Bill, I can’t do this by myself! Please come up here and talk to me!”
Lemar walked away, leaving the kid to his sobbing.

TEAM JOYCE

“What did you mean, a few days ago, when you told me I’m not trying hard enough? How can I be expected to fight against my own nature, my own brain?”
Valkyrie slashed her sword at the air callously, seemingly not even listening to Number Nine. “Nine, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That’s it. I haven’t given you a thought since then, honestly.”
Number Nine felt the tears start to flow down her cheeks. “Haven’t given me thought? That’s all I have: my thoughts! Who am I, where have I come from? How did I end up in the hands of Skip Ash for the reprogramming? Do I have a family? Are they worried about me? Why can’t I remember?”
When Valkyrie simply continued her sword thrusts at an imaginary opponent, and didn’t answer, Number Nine felt hot fury flood through her. She leapt at Valkyrie, intending to make the woman listen to her! She barely noticed when Valkyrie’s sword bit into her shoulder, straight into the bone. The anger flooded out of her as the she fell against the ground, blood trickling down from the deep wound in her arm, though she was incapable of feeling the pain.
Valkyrie threw her sword aside and rushed to Number Nine in concern. On her knees in a panic, she examined the wound closely. “Nine! I’m so sorry! I just turned, and you were there, and the sword--! I didn’t know you were there!”
Number Nine suddenly found herself laughing, filled with joy, even as the wound began naturally healing on her arm, part of her new genetic makeup. She’d be completely healed in seconds. “Valkyrie, it doesn’t matter! Don’t you see? Ha-ha! I got angry! For the first time ever, I felt anger!”

Samantha Parrington, Valkyrie, leaned down into the water and began washing the blood off her sword. Of all the ridiculous, amateur mistakes! She was furious with herself! How had she allowed herself to slash a teammate, a friend, with her sword? She breathed in deeply. No, it wasn’t her fault. She had been practicing with her sword and Number Nine had entered that space without announcement. Then again, could Samantha blame her? Number Nine wasn’t a trained swordswoman like she was. Samantha had chosen to challenge her teammates regarding their own heroic development, and she had to be prepared to accept the consequences of her challenges.
Samantha raised her newly clean blade out in front of her. She felt all the old doubts welling up inside her uncomfortably. Once she had simply been Samantha Parrington, a wealthy socialite with over-indulgent parents, trying to find herself by committing to various causes, such as feminism, radicalism, and the pro-choice movement. But she’d always had a confused self-concept, and she’d always known it. When she’d been changed into the Valkyrie, she was fully aware that she’d been able to repress her confused self and had given herself over to the strong warrior woman who had no room for self-doubt in her existence. She liked to think that she had more balance now, but she knew deep down that the Valkyrie side of her was still firmly in control.
After drying her sword, Samantha sheathed the weapon and, with sudden shock, found herself transformed back into her mortal self, the frail form of Samantha Parrington. Her reflection in the water showed a slight, blonde woman in blue jeans and a snug, white blouse. Compared to her Valkyrie-self, she was timid, shorter, less… sturdy. How had this happened? She knew the magic of her blade was still intact, but only if she willed the transformation, and she hadn’t transformed into her mortal self in over six months!
With a shudder, Samantha drew the sword again and changed back to the Valkyrie. The beautiful, strong, powerful Valkyrie. She thanked the gods again for the magic that allowed her to turn into this amazing heroine.

DAY 14

Jasper Sitwell was excited. Things were about to change, and his favorite parts of the game were coming up. He had some amazing things planned for these contestants, things no one would ever see coming. The longer they stayed in the competition, the better they would know themselves, the more challenged they would be, and the better the hero they would ultimately become.
Jasper left the small trailer he was living in while the competition was ongoing here in Symkaria. There were other trailers all around him for the cameramen, challenge designers, medical staff, etc. Not a bad crew, all said. Jasper was constantly having to address situations from the game. Just yesterday, in fact, a contestant had been wounded by a sword. But he’d investigated and found that there had been no malice intended and no sustained injury. Another potential crisis averted in a game that seemed to be full of crises.
That evening, Jasper stood before the seven members of Team Hammond and the five members of Team Joyce, and turned their worlds upside down. With an excited tremor in his voice, Jasper had announced that the two tribes were about to be reshuffled. He’d instructed the twelve contestants to stand on a separate ceramic tile, then had them turn the tile over. Those on red squares would be the new Team Joyce; those on yellow would be the new Team Hammond.
Jasper watched the two new groups form with varying reactions. On the Team Joyce side, Battle Star and Sandstorm stood close together, eyeing the others. Derwyddon, his hands folded, with Steel Spider standing at his flank looking imposing. Nocturne, a calm fear across her face, flitted nearby, looking at Free Spirit, whose expression was unreadable. And on Team Hammond’s side, Valkyrie, arms folded, was staring down her new teammates, Gomi and Biohazard, who looked incredibly uncomfortable at being scrutinized in such a way. MAULER was looking at Number Nine with a tight grin, and she was lapping up the attention, while Ion, face as unreadable as ever, floated above the group.
Jasper informed them that Team Hammond would return to the Hammond camp, with Team Joyce returning to the Joyce camp. He then informed them that there would be no immunity challenge the following day, and that both new teams would be joining him at separate tribal councils, and that two people would be voted out. As the teams walked back to their camps, Jasper watched, an eager anticipation in his stomach for this next phase in the game.

DAY 15

TEAM HAMMOND

Brendan Doyle, MAULER, laughed at the irony of this game. Just when he and Sandstorm had been prepared to make their power play, the teams were completely reorganized, and he and Sandstorm were now on different teams. His two biggest threats for leadership, Battle Star and Derwyddon, were both on the other tribe now, and he had the two puny kids, Biohazard and Gomi, on his team along with three of the women, Valkyrie, Number Nine, and Ion. And they had only the day to determine who they’d be voting out. One of the men, or one of the women. Ultimately, he didn’t care, so long as it wasn’t him.
As Brendan thought through the complex structures of this game, he felt Number Nine’s hands work on the tight knots in his shoulders and neck. “How’s that feeling, handsome?”
Brendan sighed with pleasure. “It’s amazing, lassie. I’ve never felt a woman’s hands with such strength in them.”
Number Nine, who had surprisingly cuddled up to him last night in the shelter, giggled a bit as she continued massaging. “It’s my pleasure to help take care of such a big, strong man like yourself.”
Brendan didn’t know what to think of this woman. Was this a strategy on her part to try and make it in the game longer? Was she trying to bring him over to their side? Was she just trying to mess with his brain? He had to admit, he didn’t mind the attention; she was an absolute babe. But something about her left him a bit uneasy. As he closed his eyes to enjoy the massage, Brendan reminded himself again that though relaxing in this game was not an option, but it might be okay for just a few minutes.

Fletcher Traynor, Biohazard, sat deep in the Symkarian woods and focused. He held his hand out under his face, clutching his wrist tightly with his other hand, and he focused on that hand, focused with all the power his mind could muster. But it wasn’t until he began to get frustrated and disgusted with himself that it began to work. His anger was the key. The more irrationally angry he grew, the easier it became to turn his body into the acidic slime that made up his Biohazard form.
Fletcher watched his hand take on a green hue, then watched as it began to melt before him. His heart quickened, his breathing came in short pulsing breaths, and the transformation began to move up his arm, toward his elbow. He had allowed himself to begin the transformation, and now he needed to will himself to stop it. He had to take control!
With the thought of control, Fletcher let out a yell toward the sky. Control, when did he ever have control! Not in school, not in his family, not while studied and poked and prodded at Project PEGASUS. Never in control! Never! Unable to stop the transformation anymore, Fletcher gave in to the anger and felt his arm, his trunk, his waist and legs and neck and face, all convert into acid. He willed himself to grow bigger, his mind maintaining at least a portion of control over his body.
It wasn’t until he grew to ten feet high that he noticed Ion floating before him in her bizarre containment suit. She spoke to him in a calm, emotionless tone. “You know, young man, you and I aren’t that different.”
Irrational, Fletcher cried out in fury. “We are nothing alike!”
Fletcher watched as Ion floated down to the ground below him and removed the face cover of her containment suit. “Let me show you my true form.” As Fletcher watched, a bizarre glob of energy melted out of the suit and floated upward in front of him. It looked like a protoplasm, with no recognizable human characteristics. Fletcher was shocked, appalled, and concerned at the same moment. “This is my true form, young one. This is what the accident did to me.”
As Fletcher felt himself changing back into his human form again, he wondered at what they did have in common, and he wondered if maybe Ion had it worse than he did.

TEAM JOYCE

Angela Cairn, Nocturne, forced herself to land among her teammates at camp. It was early and they were sitting outside the shelter, huddled up and unspeaking, around the newly constructed campfire. From an outward appearance, this might seem like a happy, congenial group, but the emotions Angela could read off of them were a myriad of distasteful flavors. Battle Star, staring into the flames, resonated stoicism, yet a strong sense of being unsettled. Sandstorm, his head in his hands, had a frightening edginess and unpredictability about him. Free Spirit, who was staring across the fire at Battle Star, had a bizarre blend of hope and self-defeat, something new in her since their transfer to this team. Steel Spider, his metal harness still around his trunk, reflected emotions that Angela couldn’t read; it was a mixture of strange flavors that she couldn’t quite identify, but with a powerful determination underlying all of them. And lastly, Derwyddon, running his hand through his beard, gave off an aura of indignation.
Angela stood on the sidelines. No one had noticed her. She’d covered herself in mists as she’d flown through the dark sky, an act that always made her more difficult to spot. And she’d landed without a sound, a true creature of the night. That is all she was now, all she was meant to be. A creature who blended into the darkness. Invisible until you noticed her around. Feeding off the pains of others, ignoring the pains of self. Wings, claws, prehensile hair, the ability to heal the injuries of others and of herself.
Angela reached up, unbidden, to the buffalo bone earring in her right ear. Feeling it gave her comfort. It was her only tie to her former life. A tangible object, something she could touch to remember her days as a little girl, when her Native American mother had given her this earring as a reminder of her heritage. Angela felt pangs of guilt and sadness flit through her as she remembered her mother, who now thought Angela dead and gone.
“Nocturne, you are welcome to join us here at the fire.” Angela, shaken from her own demons, looked up to see the entire group looking at her. Free Spirit had invited her to sit. And Angela, contrary to her own nature, took a seat on the ground next to her new tribe.

“For my entire life, prior to my transformation, I dedicated myself to the worship of the Sun God, Hu, and his wife, Ceridwen. The other gods, such as Pan, influenced me as well. We celebrated knowledge and nature. Sacrifice, tradition, and mystery. But over all, we recognized that Hu was the all, the one who judged man and put them in their appropriate station. Though Hu no longer seems to exist in your modern world here, I believe I am still being guided by a divine power, a supreme being if you will.”
Steel Spider looked over at Derwyddon in confusion, a juvenile anger painted on his face, and Derwyddon steeled himself for the immature questions that were sure to follow. “So if there is some sort of god, why is there so much sadness and tragedy here on the planet? Why do we have to suffer so much?”
Derwyddon frowned slightly as he stretched forward out of his meditation pose. “It is not for man to question, Oliver. We must trust that there is a reason for all things.”
Steel Spider only grew more angry. “’A reason for all things?’ That’s a cop-out! What possible reason could there be for me to have been born fat and unpopular? For me to get the perfect girl, Jane Lane, only to lose her to a stray bullet? For my hero, Spider-Man, to suffer in the public’s eyes year after year? For me to get my arm bitten off?”
Derwyddon placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of his charge, ignoring the look of frustration and fury on Steel Spider’s face. “Oliver, you must let go of these things. You must allow yourself to retire these pains. The supreme power can only guide you if you allow him in.”
Oliver suddenly sprouted his long metallic legs from his chest harness and raised himself up into the air, seemingly ready to run. “Derwyddon, you’ve been really cool to me so far, but you can’t ask me to let that stuff go. Sometimes it feels like that is all I’ve got left.”
Derwyddon looked away from his ally. “Oliver, if you want to follow the correct path, there is no room for such intense personal pain, or for such mental imbalance.”
With a shriek, Oliver scampered away into the forest. Derwyddon closed his eyes, seeking the balance within himself. His mission remained intact. He would destroy the Initiative from the inside out.

TRIBAL COUNCIL: TEAM JOYCE

Jasper welcomed the six members of the new Team Joyce and surveyed them, looking for signs of tension and confusion among them. MAULER, Valkyrie, and Number Nine all looked relatively comfortable and happy. Ion he couldn’t read. And Gomi and Biohazard seemed, respectively, depressed and bitter.
“Gomi, I can’t help but notice how sad you seem tonight.”
Jasper was shocked when Gomi began to cry softly. “It’s—it’s my lobster, Bill. He’s at the other camp, and I had to leave him behind. I’m just having a hard time being away from him is all.”
Jasper considered asking Biohazard questions, but then decided against it. He turned to Valkyrie. “Valkyrie, there seems to be a relative calmness among your group, despite the vote tonight.”
“Jasper, our vote, much like last time, is a simple one to come by. We need to rid our new tribe of the discord among it, and take out our weakest link. On top of that, this contestant volunteered to be voted out tonight.”
Jasper, curious at this, allowed the voting to go forward.
The first vote was for Gomi. This was from Number Nine, who felt sorry for her new ally and was willing to honor his request to let him leave the game.
The second vote was for Gomi. This was from Biohazard, who was pleased to get rid of one of those who hadn’t stood up for him earlier in the game.
The third vote was for Valkyrie. This was from Gomi, who didn’t care where his vote went, and who disliked Valkyrie’s brash nature.
The fourth vote was for Gomi. This was from MAULER, who was glad to be rid of his weakest teammate, and who had never connected well with Gomi.
The fifth vote was for Gomi. This was Valkyrie, who wanted the weakest link out of the game.
The sixth vote was for Gomi. This was from Ion, who was voting along with her team, despite having nothing personal against Gomi.
Jasper felt nothing but pity as he watched the diminutive boy cyborg walk away, no lobster in hand.

TRIBAL COUNCIL: TEAM HAMMOND

The six members of Team Hammond took their seats and Jasper again scanned them for reactions. He truly had no idea who would win this game. Steel Spider looked unnerved, Derwyddon intent, and Battle Star weary. Nocturne looked frightened as usual; Jasper still hadn’t heard her speak. Free Spirit and Sandstorm were more difficult to read this time around.
Before Jasper could speak, Free Spirit started up. “I waited until now to address the team because I thought it would help to talk this over in a neutral environment. If you would permit me, Jasper?” Jasper nodded his consent, wondering what was about to come. “I just want to remind you all that we are here in this challenge to be part of the Initiative, and to serve our country using our powers for the greater good. I don’t think that the petty challenges that seem to have divided our teams are worth it. We should simply be able to speak out loud about how the team is going to vote for the good of the team.”
Battle Star looked at Free Spirit with narrowed eyebrows. “Free Spirit, right? You worked with Captain America, I remember. Let me tell you, kid, just because you feel one way about something doesn’t mean that everyone else is going to feel that way. You got me?”
“But we are supposed to be heroes! Our own concerns and motivations should be set aside!”
Steel Spider then piped in, nearly shouting. “We didn’t all get the perfect little white bread life that you did, missy! Now why don’t you shut your trap and sit down?”
Jasper saw no need to keep the discussion going. He turned it over to the votes.
The first vote was for Free Spirit. This was from Derwyddon, who was voting according to his earlier plan, to rid the team of who he perceived the weakest was.
The second vote was for Steel Spider. This was from Nocturne, who’d been invited to vote this way by Free Spirit before the challenge.
The third vote was for Free Spirit. This was from Sandstorm, who had been planning to vote for Steel Spider until the little speech from Free Spirit annoyed him.
The fourth vote was for Free Spirit. This was from Battle Star, who had made eye contact with Sandstorm and changed his vote at the last minute, feeling that having such discord in the tribe wouldn’t be helpful.
The fifth vote was for Steel Spider. This was from Free Spirit, who wanted the most unstable member of her team gone.
The sixth vote was for Free Spirit. This was from Steel Spider, who was voting along with Derwyddon, despite his anger at his mentor.
As Jasper extinguished Free Spirit’s torch, she turned to her teammates. “I bear none of you any malice, and I look forward to the day when we can serve together as heroes.” Then she walked proudly away.

And then there were ten! Thank you all for our continued participation, comments, and, especially, votes! I truly have no idea who will win this game, and I’m thrilled to see who goes next! And as the stories of Gomi and Free Spirit have come to an end, several other stories are heating up!
Due to random selection, Team Joyce gets immunity next episode. That means you must vote for someone on Team Hammond to leave the game. The votes should be getting harder as we go! If they are, I’m doing something right! :D

TEAM JOYCE (immunity):
Battle Star (Lemar Hoskins)
Derwyddon
Nocturne (Angela Cairn)
Sandstorm (Tony Trainer)
Steel Spider (Oliver Osnick)

TEAM HAMMOND:
Biohazard (Fletcher Traynor)
Ion (Voletta Todd)
MAULER (Brendan Doyle)
Number Nine
Valkyrie (Samantha Parrington)