The Most Dangerous Game

The longer they walked, the deeper Waldo fell into his fear of what lurked in the bushes. With every twig snap, he became increasingly paranoid. With every distant Roar, he jumped higher than the clouds. He dared not look at the remaining civilians out of fear they’d see the panic in his eyes. Things only got worse for him when they arrived at a strange river.

Looking around, nothing seemed really out of the ordinary at first glance. He put up the hand signal but some chose to continue instead. The roar of a beast behind them caused a couple more to rush across the water. Waldo investigated the area until he spotted a decent-sized tree and bolted for it. With as much force as he could, he slammed his torso into the tree and sent it slamming into the water.
“COME ON, HIT THE TREE” was all he could think of yelling as he started rushing the remaining citizens across the fallen tree. As the last citizen made it across, he looked back and saw the source of the roar from before.

Emerging from the wood stood that of a Spinosaurus. Waldo slowly backed up until his foot hit the start of the tree, the Spinosaurus stalking him with every step. He took a deep breath before he spun around and bolted his way down the tree, a roar behind him told him this was officially a chase. He didn’t look back as he charged his way across the downed tree, a misstep sent him tumbling into the dirt on the other side. He flipped onto his back and saw the creature rushing across the man-made bridge. Waldo quickly pushed himself forward and started slamming his foot into this side’s end. He felt the tree start to give way as he watched the creature lunge at him. He stopped kicking and ducked, feeling its teeth graze his arm. With all the strength he had left, he slammed his foot upon the tree one last time. A massive sigh of relief arose from him as he watched the tree shift, sending the monster screaming as it was washed away with it. His legs gave way before he could catch his breath. All he could do was look to the sky, wondering if his mentor was still alive after all.

~~
Gearhead hid in the brush, listening to this opponent insult and belittle everything about him. Every word stung like a wasp sting, especially the stuff he knew was right even if a bit exaggerated. If he wasn't in a fight for his life, he'd probably be feeling a different emotion right now. He breathed softly as he tried to make a plan for what his next move should be. Without his bat, he won’t be able to do much with close-quarters combat. Even his signature “Knuckle shocksters” technique was mostly in the funding phase. With no more ideas to ponder, Gearhead knew he had one thing he definitely could try.

James reached for his pocket and pulled out a small sack, he slowly pulled out smashed-up tech parts he stole from the plane before he left the group. Though it was very amateur workmanship, he quickly pasted together what he thought would work in this situation. Why it only had 4 legs instead of 8, he wasn’t quite sure. He placed it on the ground and slowly lowered his goggles. Once he found the connection, he slowly watched as the thing crawled its way around the forest and emerged from the treeline. Just to play it safe, he started moving in the opposite direction to cause more confusion.

"Oh, come on now, Gearhead," Eevi’s voice called out, the slightest drawl of boredom draped over her words as she prowled toward the treeline, her footsteps measured and deliberate. "Don’t tell me you’re actually trying to give me the silent treatment. That’s almost worse than your one-liners. Almost."

The forest around her was alive with the rustling of leaves and the distant cries of prehistoric beasts, but the immediate area felt suffocatingly quiet. Too quiet. She paused just short of stepping fully out of cover, her amber eyes narrowing as she scanned the space beyond the treeline.

"Fine. If you’re so determined to waste my time, I’ll just find your little sidekick. What’s his name again? Doesn’t matter. I’ll kill him first, just like I promised. Maybe then you’ll finally decide to show yourself."

Her tone dripped with mock casualness, but her movements betrayed a predator's readiness. She leaned her weight slightly back, her fingers already miming the shape of a pistol as she surveyed the brush with surgical focus. "Though, I’ve got to admit, your priorities are fascinating, Gearhead. Sacrificing the kid to keep yourself breathing? Very noble. Real hero material."

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something wasn’t adding up. His silence wasn’t fear—it was calculation. From what she had read, it wasn’t his style to clam up unless he was planning something stupid or desperate. She crouched slightly, easing herself closer to the treeline, her every step purposeful, minimizing sound.

"You know, I’ve seen better men than you crack under less pressure. At least they had the courtesy to make things interesting before they went down. But you?" Her voice sharpened as she slowly circled the treeline, her senses stretching to pick up even the faintest clue. "You’re making this tedious. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a boring hunt."

She stopped again, her gaze flicking toward a faint flicker of movement deeper in the brush. Her fingers twitched slightly, readying her power as she resisted the urge to fire just yet. No, let him make the first move. Let him think she was all talk.

"Tick tock, Gearhead," she taunted, a smirk curling her lips. "The kid won’t save himself, and I’m running out of patience."

She waited still for a reply, any kind of movement or dialogue at her provocations and still, only the silence greeted her. She was growing irritated at this 'pillow princess'.

"Wow, Gearhead, it’s starting to click," Eevi’s voice carried through the underbrush, her tone laced with mock admiration. She prowled a little closer to the treeline, her every movement a calculated step toward provoking her quarry into action. "I didn’t think you had it in you. Dumping the kid like dead weight? Smart move. Really, it is. That’s survival instinct kicking in, isn’t it? A fellow pragmatist. Someone just like me."

She stopped short, her eyes scanning the rustling foliage, her smirk widening as she leaned casually against a nearby tree. "But then again, maybe it’s not instinct. Maybe it’s just cowardice. All that bravado you flaunt—must be the only thing holding you together, huh? It’s kind of sad, really."

Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a taunting edge that bordered on conspiratorial. "Because if you’re out here, this far away, and leaving the others behind, you’re not just abandoning them, are you? No, you’re betting on them dying so you can save your own sorry hide. That’s the real reason you’re quiet, isn’t it? You’re hoping if you stay small enough, quiet enough, I won’t notice you’ve already decided to give up."

Her words cut through the oppressive silence of the jungle, her smirk growing sharper as she leaned just far enough into the treeline to make her silhouette visible.

"I get it, I do. You’re playing the long game, betting on yourself. Admirable. But here’s the thing, Gearhead. If you’re anything like me, you should know better. You can’t survive by staying quiet. Survivalists don’t cower. We act. So what’s it going to be? Keep hiding like a rat, or show me you’re actually worth my time?"