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Jack Abbot isn’t a fan of all these New Era Survivor changes. He keeps up with the show. Is friends with old players. Tweets on Thursday morning about what the fuck went down at tribal the night before. But he thinks all this New Era™ shit is stupid.
He’s said as much in interviews and on podcasts.
“I mean, come on,” He braces his forearms onto his desk and leans in towards Ahmed’s floating head on his laptop screen. “We were out there — what? Two more weeks? It’s a different game, man.” The audience loves it when old era players bash on the ABC’s new stingy money saving antics. He’s just giving them what they want on The Betting Pool podcast.
“Sure, they don’t give them rice any more, but their rewards are basically just a meal in a hut and anyone who makes it to the end has gotten three or four of them.” He also thinks all this hidden immunity idol stuff is silly. “And Fiji. God, those rotating challenge courses have gotten fucking boring. Predictable. I’m not saying it’s an easier game now but…” A shrug. “…what can I say?”
“Okay, okay, we get it old timer.” Ahmad chuckles. “Got anyone you’d put money on winning this season 48 though?”
He leans back into his office chair and looks down at his crossed arms. “Well…” He shakes his head. A blush creeps up his chest and will soon be visible above the neckline of his shirt. “You know—That—” He snaps his fingers trying to come up with her name. “That girl on the Vatu tribe. Samira. I think she’s got some old school Survivor in her.”
So, yeah, Jack Abbot thinks this New Era stuff is a bunch of B.S., but when he watches Samira Mohan play he’s mesmerized. She’s a challenge beast. Both physically – flying through ropes courses and dragging massive blocks across the sand like their paper weights. And mentally – assembling every puzzle she gets hands on in record time. The intuition she carries in her social game is unmatched. She takes the time to get the know every player she crosses paths with, empathizes with them, and tries to understand what makes them tick. She builds trust in her alliances but knows when it’s the right time to break away. Her blindsides are ruthless, but without personal offence. She plays survivor like chess, but also like it’s a dance. Like she’s stoking a fire.
Jack Abbot watches Samira Mohan outwit, outplay, and outlast and he can’t help but get with the (new) program.
So, when Jeff makes the call about Survivor 50, Jack says he’s a yes and immediately follows up with who else is on your list, Jeff?
He tells the producers in his first confessional he wants to work with her. That he’s ecstatic they are on the same tribe. They dominate the pre-merge challenges, taking home extra camp supplies and flint for fire. He fishes, she hacks open coconuts, and they enjoy over a week of straight immunity idol wins. Samira finds the hidden idol at camp and shares its accompanying advantage with Jack immediately. They’re the strongest alliance this season by a mile.
Robby is pissed when they reach the merge and Jack sides with Samira who wants to send Duke – one of the old guards, Jack, one of their own – home as the first member of the jury. Robby is even more pissed four tribals later, when Jack and Samira hatch a plan over bread and wine during a challenge reward to vote him out. Samira Mohan is devious. Samira Mohan is a genius. Samira Mohan smarter than them all. She wins two immunity idol challenges back-to-back and Jack is teeming with pride and not even a small bit disappointed by his own loss.
Jack Abbot respects Samira Mohan so much it’s intoxicating.
…
“The eighteenth person voted out of Survivor 50 and the ninth member of our jury. Abbot. That’s four. That’s enough. Get your things.”
Fuck.
Samira’s face when he turns to her, lifting his go-bag over his shoulder, isn’t shocked and fearful like she has just been blindsided by the loss of her closest ally. Instead, there’s a knowing sadness behind her eyes when she opens her arms to him.
She knew.
He steps into them anyways, tucking his nose into the nape of her neck and inhales the sweet, tangy musk of dried sweat and grime from twenty-three days in the wilderness.
“I’m so sorry, Jack.” She whispers into his shoulder. “No one could beat you at final tribal.” And it dawns on him.
She’d orchestrated it.
He hugs her tighter and longer than he should have. Wonders if the edit will show how he lingers. He can’t bring himself to care. When he pulls back, he looks her in the eye and, Jesus, if she’s not the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. The flickering light from the fire dances across her face and catches on the misty wetness of her eyes.
“Attagirl.”
She’s gunna win this thing.
He gives Princess a side hug and tells her to hold on for us old era folks, Princess. Perlah’s counting on you. Claps Whitaker on the shoulder, congratulating him on his immunity win today. Makes gun fingers and clicky noises out of the side of his mouth at Trinity telling her to stay badass. And bumps fists with Mateo and Joy before he finally plucks his torch from behind them and makes his way to Jeff.
He pointedly ignores Robby and Walsh sitting smugly on the jury.
“Jack, your tribe has spoken.” Torch snuffed.
“Been a pleasure, Jeff.” He turns and salutes to the final six with a smirk that favors the right side of his face. “Hasta la vista, vatos.”
Jack Abbot is still not a fan of Survivor’s New Era antics. But he just got his ass handed to him by a woman he thinks is probably the best damn player the show has ever seen. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.
So, Jack Abbot's gunna make damn sure Samira Mohan wins a million dollars in three days’ time.