It was morning. Bryan opened his eyes and was about to close them again to go back to sleep, when he suddenly realized where he was. The sun wasn't visible this far back in the cave, but it was still significantly lighter now, enough so that they didn't need flashlights anymore. He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to snap out of his groggy state. Drool had made its way down the front of his shirt during his slumber, and he wiped it off as best he could.
'Well, we're still alive,
' he thought, glancing over at Tori. 'Good job, me.
' Bryan didn't remember which point it was that he'd fallen asleep, but he hadn't been disturbed up to that point, so it was safe to assume that there hadn't been any intruders that night. What time was it, anyway?
Music blared at him out of fucking nowhere. "Goooood morning, children!" a tinny voice rang out from the mouth of the cave, and Bryan shot up with all the fury of a wild animal protecting its territory, raising the shotgun and freezing there, waiting for the owner of the cheery voice to show his face. Instead, the stranger continued, and Bryan rolled his eyes as he finally realized exactly where the echoing voice was coming from. "Danya," he said. It was the PA system outside, echoing into the caverns. Nothing to be worried about. Bryan went back at ease and let out a deep breath, returning to his spot against the wall to hear what the bastard had to say.
Danya covered the first several kills on the island; twelve, there were. Bryan wasn't surprised. That asshole with the SMG probably got one. The names continued, and sure enough, Dan's death was mentioned. Dan Birch, that was him. "...reflex or not, Calvert, you still killed him. Now you get to live with that." Bryan's blood boiled as he heard Danya's words, and he balled his hands into fists.
"Don't you talk to me about murder, you prick," he snarled, like the bastard could hear him anyway. "Motherfucker..." Danya was the one who put them here; they were just trying to survive. 'I'm not gonna fucking feel guilty, you should be the one...
' his thoughts slowly built up his anger, and he took his firmly clenched fist and slammed it against the stone floor. He wouldn't dwell on Birch's death any longer. He wasn't proud of it, but he wouldn't beat himself up over it either. He would move on. Get the hell over it. Fuck Danya.
The rest of the names were read, none of which were familiar to him, however a few caught his interest. Johnathon Michaels, Paris Persephone, Walter Smith. The first two sounded like pussies; one got his ass kicked by a girl, and the other stabbed one to death. Both shameful. The third, though, Walter...Danya took the liberty of kissing his ass over the PA for a minute. Bryan would keep an eye out for him. Not that he could recognize him by his name. Maybe his weapon...
The announcements continued. Apparently, the lighthouse was a dangerzone now. This meant that if he and Tori stayed here much longer, they were toast. He got up and shuffled over to her, kneeling down beside her and rocking her shoulder quickly with his free hand. He hadn't wanted to be so gruff waking her up, but they didn't have much time, according to Danya. "Get up, we gotta go," he said impatiently.
((Continued in The Remake