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V5 Fifth Rolls
SOTF: Repercussions of Evil

Alex Ripley waited. The lights above her blinked and sparked out of the air. There were players in the hospital. She didn't see them, but had expected them now for days. Her warnings to Cernel Wheeler were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
Alex was a student at Aurora for four years. When she was young she watched the airplanes to Disneyland and she said to dad "I want to be on the planes daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY PLAYERS"
There was a time when she believed him. Then as she got oldered she stopped. But now in the hospital of the island she knew there were players.
"This is Danya" the radio crackered. "You must fight the players!"
So Alex gotted her crutch and blew up the wall.
"SHE GOING TO KILL US" said the players
"I will shoot at her" said Kam So'oialo and she fired the Ballestair-Molina. Alex swipped at her and tried to beat her up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the players!" she shouted
The radio said "No, Alex. You are the players"

And then Alex was a zombie.



Source- Doom: Repercussions of Evil

V5 Fifth Rolls
Because the way this scene is planned, Carlon is supposed to die first. Therefore, may I please have an extension because of this? I think four days would be good for both of us.

Sub-Area Description: West Living Quarters
Look at me jumping on the bandwagon! : D

Kaitlyn Williamson's corpse is currently slumped against the fence outside one of the houses. In the same house, a red curtain has been ripped from the window in the living room area and smeared with blood.

Midnight, The Stars and You
As Lana thought, Ilya stood up and said that he was going to look around the hotel for a bit. Lana looked at him with exhausted eyes, and nodded. She was sure he was going to be safe. Well, not "sure", but she felt she could let him go. So "safer"? Maybe. He did have C4 or something, if she remembered correctly.

After she left, she went back to her thoughts.

Stephanie had said nothing either. She had stood up and sighed, certainly, but nothing else.

She had no idea what had been going on inside Ilya and Stephanie's head since the field. They probably despised her, or pitied her. Pitying was somehow still worse for her. At least people were willing to admit she did something wrong when they despised her. But really, what was the point of not playing anymore? Really? Was there some sort of benefit?

Lana wasn't sure.

Standing up, she took a deep breath.

"Going outside for a breather", she said.

She needed some time out of this room. She still didn't like being in it, and how it tried to press thoughts into her brain.

Lana wandered outside the lounge, looking both ways. The exit was nearby, if she remembered correctly. Perhaps the hotel would have had some kind of garden, or a pool. It probably wouldn't look pretty, but at least it would be someplace else for her to rest. The hallway was dark and ominous, though not as constricting as the lounge. As for the hotel, it seemed very quiet, as if someone had sucked out its very being.

It didn't stay silent for too long, however. At first, Lana couldn't hear it that well, due to her hearing. But as the noises went on, she was able to pick out some of it. A bit of clattering around, from somewhere outside. No, not clattering, slamming noises, like someone was fighting. Or rather, two people. It was very loud, and very clear.

Lana paused, listening to the noises, and it ended with a gunshot, with a quick pause. Suddenly, noises started up again. There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. But she knew one thing; she shouldn't stick around.

She turned heel and felt herself sprinting across the hall, and swiftly opening the door to the lounge with a loud bang.

"Stephanie", she breathed. "We need to get out of here. Somethin's happenin', and I don't know if Ilya-"

A million things passed through her mind. What if it was Ilya somehow? What then?

"I don't think it's safe" she said rapidly, quickly moving across the room to grab her bag.

And once she was out of the lounge, she burst towards the way they had entered the hotel to begin with. She didn't want to figure out what that sound was.

((Lana Torres continued in Friends 'til the end))

V5 Fifth Rolls
Hero and/or death ideas, please?

Midnight, The Stars and You
((Lana Torres continued from The Unlucky Clover Field))

Ever since she was little, Lana dreamed of being a bat.

Of course, it was a silly fantasy, and she knew that it wasn't going to happen. But when her first grade teacher pulled out books about bats and began teaching them, she was captivated. For a few weeks, everyone did art projects on bats and the teacher, with her kind smile, read to them the story of Stellaluna or gave them basic facts about them. Lana's only true experience with bats was during Halloween, where they were portrayed as monstrous beings. But it turned out, some of them were nice. Many of them ate fruit or bugs, for example. Bats weren't as scary as they looked. Sometime later in her life, to reward her for good grades, her parents managed to find a way to take her to the Woodland Zoo. She remembered the hanging flying foxes, looking curiously at her and the other guests, and she remembered how she smiled. Those bats were precious, with their black and orange coats and their large eyes. Naturally, for Christmas the same year they got her a flying fox plushie, and she had hugged it for a long time. To this day, she still had it; it was even small enough to fit in her bag, though she hadn't taken it out since she had woken up at the aviary.

Bats meant a lot to her. When she first became a furry, it was almost natural for her to associate herself with one. Bats were cute, but they were also misunderstood and did a lot for the world's ecology.

Lana occasionally wondered about what being a bat was like. This time, however, it was more a fantasy of fleeing away. Lana pictured her arms growing into leathery wings, and flapping them so that she would be away from the island, never to be afraid again.




The lounge was very dark, very lonesome even with three people in it. It looked like it was almost opulent back in the day. Small dried puddles of wax littered the tables, and from a distance she could see a stocked bar. It reminded her of something she didn't want to be reminded of, especially right now.

The announcements had come on again sometime this morning. Once more, Lana had found the closest place to her in the woods where they had been walking, and listened in. Everyone knew what she had done. It wasn't a secret to them. What's more, something had happened to Mike. Mike had been stabbed; she hadn't gotten the name of the killer, but it happened. He was gone too.

This place made her feel uncomfortable. Lana was both scared to leave this place, which they had decided to rest in, but she hated being here. It wasn't just the fact that this lounge room reminded her of some horror movie. It was just so sad, and brought up memories. They had found the hotel earlier, and decided to rest inside it. But yet, it still made her feel uncomfortable.

It just wasn't Mike, either.

Luca, she remembered him. He was at the golf course one day, with Darren. They talked a bit, but Lana had to go home since she had just been getting off work. And now he was gone too.

Lana placed her elbows on the table in front of her. She still didn't talk much. Anything she could say would make her feel depressed again, or worse. But all the things that had happened were boiling up inside her. If she didn't remember Davidge, she would remember Dave. If she didn't remember Dave, she would remember Venice. If she didn't remember Venice, she would remember Mike. If she didn't remember Mike, it went back to Dave.

The walls seemed to constrict herself further. But she didn't want to admit it, especially not to Stephanie or Ilya.

She wasn't sure if there was much a point to not playing anymore. Everyone knew what had happened between her and Venice, and as the days went on everyone fell. She was already tainted, and she didn't know a way out. Lana had always tried to push herself forward, to prove herself to everyone, but she was lost.

She still hated this room.

Lana dared not to make any requests to Ilya or Stephanie, though. She better not dare.

The Unlucky Clover Field
Lana continued trying to hide herself with her hands, trying to drown out her thoughts.

There were always going to be other bodies, without a doubt. And she had the feeling Venice wouldn't be the last. So what do they do, give all the bodies burial? That seemed very overwhelming. And then what? People were just going to continue to make more. She only heard bits and pieces of the announcement, but she got an idea.

But what could they do for Venice at this point? Lana hurt her. She didn't mean to, but she did. And now she was gone. She and Dave. Gone. Nothing was going to bring them back. That was reality.

The poor luck that they all had. They were supposed to be at Disneyland right now, not killing and dying. Maybe in another world, she would be somewhere safe on a ride or somewhere. Something that was supposed to be thrilling, and perhaps only simulate danger. Not actual danger, or actual death.

Lana wanted to talk about what happened. Stephanie and Ilya probably saw her as no different than anyone else who killed. Deep down they were thinking of her as someone who was a killer, who deserved the blame, who needed to be locked up somewhere or worse. She was going to be seen as bloodthirsty, no matter who she talked to.

Her mouth almost opened, asking the questions that came. Am I one of them? Did I have to start too now? Do you blame me?

But as the questions almost came out, she stopped herself.

It was inevitable that they were going to instead comfort her. Don't worry Lana, it was an accident. It's not your fault. You were just shaken up by Dave. Somehow that seemed worse. Instead of casting her out they were going to try to make her out to be a victim. Lana didn't want to be, especially now that Dave had committed suicide and Venice was no longer moving. People, feeling sorry for her? It was going to be a terrible experience.

Lana was snapped out of her thoughts by Stephanie's hand, and she turned to look. She nodded in agreement. They should move on somewhere. Anywhere.

She slowly reached for her bag and her gun, only to stop once her hand was an inch away from the rifle.

"Someone else should hold it", she mumbled.

((Lana Torres continued in Midnight, The Stars, and You))

I Want To Get Off Mr. Bones' Wild Ride!
((Miranda Millers continued from No Whammies))

A gentle poke with the spear.

He didn't respond.

Of course Mark didn't respond. He was dead. The announcement said so. And it was clear that with the cart crushing his body he was gone. Miranda just had to touch him with the spear, just to confirm it to herself.

Mark was another dead body she had seen recently. Unlike Kaitlyn, he wasn't as fresh; Miranda grimaced a bit as a few flies danced on his arms. The smell wasn't great, either. It smelled like a rotted version of the jerky diminishing from her bag. It wasn't something she liked seeing, smelling, or knowing about in any sense. It was still hard for her mind to process.

Freak roller coaster accident, huh.

She looked up at the wooden structure towering over her.. Miranda couldn't help but wonder how that happened. The roller coaster didn't seem to be operational. Though, the fact that there was an amusement park here only proved further and further that those morons responsible for this had a sick sense of humor. Oh, they were supposed to go to Disneyland? Why not send them somewhere where there's some sort of run-down theme park? It was like dangling a carrot just out of reach. Maybe they picked it because of that reason. They were sick fucks, after all.

Miranda tried to remember what Mark Little was like. He was on the baseball team... and that was about it. They weren't the type to interact much. She couldn't even get an idea of who he was, based off her memories.

Feeling nauseous from the smell, she slipped away from what was left of Mark, resting herself on the side of a bench nearby the roller coaster. She made it a bit to make sure he wasn't in sight.

Well, it wasn't just the smell making her feel ill. Her head still throbbed from the blow to her head. She wondered if Baxter injured something in her skull. Hopefully it wasn't major and she could just sleep it off. Otherwise, if she did have something wrong with her head, she would have no help.

Just like how Kaitlyn, Naomi, Mark, Mike, Stacey, and most likely Baxter did.

The announcements had come on just as she left the wheat field. While she was mainly focused on running away, she got the jist of it. Mara and Summer had killed. They didn't kill just any person either. Mara had run into Mike again and stabbed him, while Summer had killed Naomi. Stacey had been shoved off a hill, by Yukiko.

Her mind went back to prom. Did Summer really attack Naomi, and Mara Mike? Were those the same people she talked to at Mara's house that evening as they got ready to go to prom? Summer really was the kind of person to attack someone else that was there that evening. And she didn't know what was worse: that she had a basic idea of why she would attack Naomi, based off her knowledge from personally dealing with Summer in the past, or that she was rewarded for it.

And Mara? Mara killed Mike. She had seen the two of them earlier. Did he go after her? Was the act Mara putting on that: an act?

And from her guess, Baxter wasn't alive anymore either. The announcement said to stay away from a homestead. At first, Miranda didn't pay the phrase any mind, until she pulled out her map to get an idea of where she was on the island. The area she had ran away from, it turns out, was the homestead in question. She had stabbed Baxter in the leg, and the announcement came on just as she got out. Someone with a hurt leg couldn't get too far.

Was that another kill from her?

She was certainly responsible if he didn't make it.

If he didn't, it was likely she was going to find out. Just like how the rest of the island knew she killed Kaitlyn.

It was strange, knowing that everyone around her was either killing or being killed. It was tempting to grieve, especially for Naomi. It was equally tempting to swear revenge and hunt Summer down like something out of Kill Bill. But she knew that it was useless. Summer was probably off somewhere, munching on her donuts and gloating about how she killed Naomi. It was a sickening thought to picture it.

What could she do, though? Miranda had killed too. It wasn't like she hadn't woken up and thought about killing before.

Once again, though, this sort of thing still hurt.

It would be a matter of time before she heard Summer and Mara's names on the announcement again, as well as Kat and Finn's. Heck, it was almost definite her own name would come up again. Her friends and classmates were disappearing.

Who were her friends, anyways? Miranda had thought about her life before the island a bit. For a good portion of her life, it was always about impressing someone. The right clothes made people like you. The right smile made people comfortable. You better have something witty to say, as well. The thing was, Miranda tried, but there was always someone better. Take Naomi, for instance. Naomi managed to become senior president. While Miranda wasn't able to vote for anyone, she didn't think Naomi was a bad choice at all. While she could get a little condescending, she was a very smart, charismatic woman. It wasn't surprising she would win. Kat was the basketball team captain. Mara was in pageants, also on the student council. Heck, even Laura and Jasper had something to be envied.

And what did Miranda have? Well, she was on the track team, but Cammie always did better. She still envied her to this day. And Veronica, of all people, was the track captain. Miranda was into fashion, but there were always combinations she was envious of. Unlike others she knew, Miranda didn't do as well at school. She could talk well, but she always said something dumb.

So, how much was it her befriending someone and more her trying to impress them?

It was clear that a lot of people around her had something much better than her, something she would have wanted for herself. She tried to get those somethings, but she never did. She was probably never going to. So she tried to present herself like how the people who did get those somethings acted. They were confident, smart, beautiful. It was something she too wanted.

If it was all just her trying to impress everyone, then it was strange to realize that those same people she tried to make like her either made the same decision as her or got killed before they did so. In a way, it was a bizarre form of equality. The island apparently didn't care if you were class president, or smart, or pretty. All it cared about was whether or not you survived.

Miranda had spent a large portion of time trying to impress these people. Really, there was a lot of things she never told anyone about, or at least didn't mention as often. Miranda, for example, loved anime. There were a lot of great shows she found herself watching, and it wasn't like how people said it was. It wasn't just tentacles, or people fighting for multiple episodes. It was something she enjoyed. Games could be fun as well. But heaven forbid she mention something like that. How many people would give her a weird look if she started talking about some magical girl anime?

Or, for that matter, about Dolores? Miranda was never able to mention anything about her to everyone. Sure, she ranted about her a few times, but it was usually something that seemed minor to everyone else. They never understood the context for why she acted that way around her, or why she seemed to get on her nerves. In hindsight, she was slipping in and out of denial. She wanted to be with her, but she could never fully admit it to herself. And that was probably why Dolores didn't want to be around her.

However, much like how the island didn't care if you were liked beforehand, it didn't care about what you watched or who you slept with. It was something no one cared about anymore. At school, it was something everyone cared about. However, once you're here, no one cares. It was strangely liberating, to know that there was very little she could be judged for anymore. Really, she had already done the ultimate thing she could be judged for, so there wasn't much to lose at this point. She killed, everyone else killed, tell us more about the obvious.

Oh, she should probably get her head checked out somehow.

Miranda unzipped her bag, and found her first aid kit. Was there something in here that could help her head? Miranda found aspirin and ibuprofen. However, she heard somewhere that it was a good idea to avoid certain pain relievers if your head is injured. She wasn't sure what kind, so she didn't want to risk it..

A few strands of hair brushed down her face as she continued looking, and she couldn't help but notice how stringy and dirty it looked. That was really her hair. She hadn't been taking good care of it. What's more, it was probably going to be in her face. It didn't help that long hair, she realized, was something someone could grab.

Just as she reached that thought, a pair of scissors had touched her hands.

Miranda pulled them out, inspecting them. After another thought, she slid the red hairband off her head.

Well, she was going to miss having long hair.


It took some time, to get her hair as short as possible. Her head still hurt, and she still felt nauseous. The scissors were small as well, and had trouble cutting through. But soon, a small pile of brown hair had formed in her lap. She didn't really care if it looked uneven, or if it showed off the growing purple bruise on the side of her forehead which matched a smaller one on her shoulder. What mattered was that there wasn't as much to grab, be dirty, or in her face.

Besides, it was time she got a new look.

She still didn't want to risk the pills. It wasn't worth possibly making it worse over making the pain go away.

Miranda put the first aid kit back, and quietly pulled out what remained of the jerky. Only one piece left. Unless she won something, she probably wasn't going to taste something like this again. Slowly, she chewed on the piece, enjoying the taste. It was going to be something else she missed.

Soon the jerky had disappeared down her throat. And that was the end of jerky.

Miranda looked at the ground, thinking a bit more. It was probably okay to go soon, now that she was rested. She still felt tired and ill, but she felt like she could keep going. It still felt like she was going to die here, alone, at that. Miranda had seen the number on the bag they had given her which contained her initial supplies, and it referred to her as G019. Nineteen didn't seem like a number she would see in another context, but if she was lucky and played it smart, she might.

Miranda lifted herself off the bench, and lifted her bag over her shoulder, only to pause as she picked up the spear.

She knew she was going to have to use it again, but that wasn't the thought that came to mind right now. Instead, she remembered how before the first announcement she had toyed with the idea of naming it something like in war movies. The thought came back to her, and she had just thought of a name. At first, it seemed even more dumb now after everything that had happened. It was something she used to kill people, and not only that, but the reference was something people would giggle at.

Well, she just thought no one would judge her over this, right? She already did much worse things.


So Miranda picked up Kyoko the spear. Kyoko was the name of a character from an anime that she had liked back home, and the spear made her think of her. At least she would be thinking of a cool character while she was here, maybe lighten her mood a bit. She got the feeling she wouldn't use the name much, but it still felt like a good name for it.


By this point, it was just one woman with her spear named after an anime character, a few supplies, her one, possibly two, kills, and herself. She wasn't sure what would happen if she ran into Mara, or Kat, or Finn, or Summer, or anyone else. A number of things could happen.

But whatever happened, she was ready for it. Miranda had very little to lose by this point.

((Miranda Millers continued in Out of the Frying Pan...))

The Silver Chair
((Getting us out of here because DZ's are terrible))

Carlon continued to put everything inside his bag, but he seemed to remain quiet. It was as if he didn't want to respond. Well, it wasn't over entirely. She still had to walk on that leg and she couldn't continue relying on Carlon forever.

Yes, even with the fear lingering in her mind, she still felt like she was capable of finding a way out. It was better for her to focus on her goal, now that she thought of it, than the setbacks. After all, this was just one setback, getting her leg injured.

But... she couldn't help but think of Daniel. Daniel didn't deserve any of that. It was one setback that was hard to ignore.

Carlon passed her a pill bottle, saying it was to take off the pain. Painkillers? Of course.

"Thank you", she said, her voice coming out hoarse.

It wasn't just for the pill bottle, of course. There was a lot to thank him for.

Alex slowly removed the cap off the bottle, and dispensed two pills into her waiting hand. After swallowing them both, Alex winced. It was a bit hard, even with the remaining water.

Spend the night here? Alex feebly nodded, her tired eyes still able to show agreement.

"Yes..."

Her head continued to nod. And they should stay together. It was kind of ideal at this point. She pursed her lips.

"Yes", she repeated.

She still wanted to find a way out. But first came rest. Alex could find a walking stick or something tomorrow. They could find a way to get something like that. There was still a way.

((Alex Ripley and Carlon Wheeler continued elsewhere))

No Whammies
Suddenly Baxter charged at her, and Miranda froze, her spear still in front of her.

He was too quick. Miranda wanted to smack him with the spear, or perhaps jab him away with it in a certain away. She wanted to push him away, and to stop him. But as she raised her spear up, she was stopped by a club to the face.

For a second, time seemed to have stopped as she fell to the ground, fear replacing any thoughts she may have had. But the landing was quick. Miranda lost grip of her spear, and it landed an inch from her hand. Her head and the shoulder, which landed on the bag still strung over it, blazed with pain. It was likely that he was going to strike her again, and he probably wasn't going to stop until she was dead.

This was how she felt after all.

Miranda quickly lifted up her head, and saw her spear, still loyally resting where she had dropped it. Without thinking twice, she grabbed it.

One thought still remained in her head among the thoughts racing throughout.

I need to live I need to get away he's not going to kill me I won't let him.


Miranda didn't want to die, not like this. Not at the hands of some classmate thinking they could do her in without a care in the world. Being beaten to death wasn't how she wanted to go. So she had to do something.

She jabbed towards Baxter's ankle, hoping to prevent him from getting another hit at her. Miranda dug it into his leg, and pulled out just as quickly.

It was a way out. He was at least somewhat distracted.

Miranda crawled away as quickly as possible, her head still throbbing and her things still as heavy as ever. Some ways away from Baxter, she pulled herself to her feet, wincing as she did so, and started running through the wheat field, still in shock from the blow.

There were some battles she couldn't win. This was one of them.

((Miranda Millers continued in I Want To Get Off Mr. Bones' Wild Ride!))

No Whammies
With each step Baxter took towards her, Miranda took a step back.

She was starting to regret talking to him. This time, she was trying to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. But it was clear that he was going to hurt her. That chuckle slid down underneath her skin and stayed there, giving her a firm shudder. Baxter was the sort of thing she was scared of, the kind of person who would hurt her simply because they wanted to see her go. When she had first woken up, this what she pictured when she stared at the beach that day, as the water pushed at her feet. It was now becoming a reality.

No one truly liked Miranda Millers, and it was something she was aware of. If she didn't do what it took to survive, then one day, one hour, someone could simply attack and kill her without a care in the world. Baxter was one such person, she knew. It was about as obvious as it could get with how he acted.

Was this how Kaitlyn felt, by the way? Dealing with someone...

As he got closer, Miranda raised the point of her spear in a defensive position.

"Okay, I'll leave. I really don't feel like being killed right now. Go... go do your thing somewhere", she said, a nervousness creeping into her voice. "Act like some comedian while doing it. I don't care."

She stepped backwards a bit further.

"Understand?"

Miranda was prepared to bolt for it or defend herself.

No Whammies
Miranda held her spear close, her eyes once more narrowed.

Who was he, calling her the island bike? And what was he saying? That she threw bricks of gold at people? Shitted bricks of gold, at that? He was, as always, pissing her off. It wasn't like she was spreading her legs for everyone and throwing golden feces at people, damn it. More like getting shot at and-

Anyways.

"Baxter, for fuck's sake. You just admitted that you threw poop at people. How often have you been doing that? Did someone die from something flung from your rear?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Again, I'm not looking for trouble. However, I swear to god-"

She cut herself off. There was another difference between the times she and Baxter argued. Namely, that his posture had changed. He didn't just look frustrated. He looked scary. He had stepped towards her, and it clearly wasn't a sign that he just wanted a closer look. Miranda remembered that this wasn't like back at school, where the worst thing that could happen was a teacher walking in and punishing the two of them. It was life-or-death here, and she needed to end this soon.

"I swear to god", she continued, " that if you don't go, I'll make you."

No Whammies
The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Baxter looked to her, and started sarcastically talking about show tunes. Well, at least that was normal. Though, it was normal in the same way flies tend to fly to rotten food. It was expected, and you didn't like it, but you would feel weird if it didn't happen. It was fairly normal in the same sense that Baxter would be sarcastic.

Really, the only part that wasn't normal this time was the fact that one of them was holding a spear, while the other held a large stick. Oh, and the whole island thing.

Miranda scowled. He just called a twat. Normally she would brush that off as best as she could, but given what had happened so far, she wasn't in the mood herself.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just... enjoying the island so far. Disneyland has nothing on it", she said, a hint of frustration to her voice.

The two of them were armed, and Miranda wasn't sure if he would attack. If he did hit her with the stick, she did have a spear to fend him off. But she was going to try to avoid that.

"Listen to me. I'm not in the mood for your kind of bullshit, and I don't want to start trouble. So how about you run off somewhere and pretend to be a monkey, like what you've been probably doing this whole time?"

No Whammies
((Miranda Millers continued from Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice))

She found it was easier to carry her spear over her shoulders rather than simply in her hand.

Ever since she left, Miranda tried to get her mind off the entire incident at the houses. And yet, the warm blood on her hand and the loud cawing of the gun continued to eat at her. No matter what she tried to think of, it went back to blood and gunshots. Thinking of resting? Kaitlyn would come up and beg for her pain to end. Think of a show she saw once? Gunshots would break through her memories. Miranda wasn't sure if she was able to go through life for a while without remembering.

After walking and occasionally resting for what seemed like forever, Miranda was somewhere new.

Just where were they, exactly? Wasn't this supposed to be an island? Then why was she standing in a field of wheat? For a second, Miranda thought she finally cracked and this was just some sort of delusion. But apparently, it was as real as you can get. Still, it raised a lot of questions. For example, people farmed here? Was the soil on this island rich enough for that? Apparently, by the look of things.

No matter what, it was somewhat surreal. This place only got more and more strange, in her opinion. At least it took her mind away a bit longer.

As Miranda traversed through the wheat field, she could feel the sun on her shoulders, still only warming. In the distance, she saw what appeared to be a green house, and slightly further off was something resembling a farmhouse and barn. Miranda squinted her eyes to get a better look.

Would one of those be a good place to spend some time for a while?

Recently she had killed someone and got shot at when she was at the town. So were buildings safe? Would there be someone in the barn or the house? What then? Could she simply shoo them out without killing as much as humanely possible?

It was probably a good idea to find a new hideout, anyways. It was mostly likely going to be like her previous, at the very best, though sleeping on the ground wasn't nice either.

Miranda approached the greenhouse, examining it. Underneath her feet were bits and pieces of shattered glass. Like everything else, the greenhouse wasn't in top shape. She doubted it would be a good place to rest, so she had to keep looking.

Actually, the greenhouse would be a terrible place. Especially with the figure just around the corner.

Slowly, she moved the spear off her shoulders, and moved towards it, feeling anxiety once more. She was going to try to avoid panicking this time, to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. Once she saw who it was, though, her eyes developed a glare.

Great. Baxter. Baxter who always had to make jokes about stupid things and then get angry. That was not someone she wanted to see right now. No, not at all. It was right up there with Veronica, and in her current state of mind, she really didn't want to deal with him right now.

She knew she had the physical capability to kill, but she wanted to avoid testing that a bit more.

Simply, she asked "What are you doing here?"

What a great way to say hello, huh?