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Man, Islands Suck
((Matt Moradi continued from here.))

Matt wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or where he was going right now.

He'd left Bart - at least, he thought he did - and the chance of joining up with a fairly friend bunch of people that didn't seem all too likely to murder each other at the drop of a hat. Sure, maybe he was something of an introvert, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially on this shitty fucking island. He should've been treating the jeep gang and their immediate lack of hostilities like manna from the fuckin' heavens.

He'd spent about a week on this island. He didn't figure that he would make it that long. Peering down the edge of the slopes - fuck, that could definitely kill someone. Fall the wrong way and you're just dead. Maybe it'd be better that way, he thought to himself. Fall the wrong way, you live, and you're in for a world of fucking hurt. Was that luck? No, he thought. That's not luck.

So many dead so far. He wasn't counting but he estimated it must've been at least fifty something dead so far. Tomorrow it could be Ben, Nate, Bart - who knew? He'd heard Alan's name over the announcements.

That kind of made him laugh. He wasn't going to lie. And hey, at least Alan died doing something noble. Killing Isabel Ramirez. That was definitely something worth dying for, he thought. Killing a real piece of shit like her. He only had to wonder how she felt. Like, oh shit! Maybe I just made a mistake attacking all these fucking people?

What a fucking idiot.

He kicked a rock down the slopes and watched it go. Then he left.

((Matt Moradi continued somewhere else.))

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
He didn't have much of anything else to say. He had thanked them. He couldn't really think of them deserving a whole lot more. Unceremoniously, he walked over to Jerry's soon to be rotting corpse and started to go through what he had on him. Switchblade, broken, pipe, bent to all hell.. any food he had in his bag. Quietly, he worked on looting the dead body of his once friend, ignoring everyone else. The pipe felt heavy. A good choice on Jerry's part to take it from Alan - not that it did him any good in the end. Bent but it could still work.

Pocketing the switchblade that had killed Toby - broken but he figured it would be nice to have - Matt turned to look at Bart.

"I'm gonna get going. Bart, ah.." As if he were talking to a dog, Matt went onto a small rant. "Don't you come following me, alright? These people, uh.. they seem real nice. You oughta stay with 'em and.. just keep going, I guess." He smiled. He didn't mean it. He'd have to kill every one of these people, sooner or later, assuming someone else wasn't set on making his job easier.

"Good luck, you guys!" He waved before walking off to who the fuck knows where.

((Matt Moradi continued to Man, Islands Suck.))

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Matt just stood there. He was dazed, in a way - the person he'd spent the past, what, four days with, dead. Someone he really, by all means, trusted with his life. Dead. Two time killer Jerry fuckin' Fury, dead.

And he felt relieved, really.

He was getting ready to stab him. He knew that. He could see it. And if Jerry felt like stabbing him, he'd have been dead. Just like that. It didn't matter how long they'd been travelling together. Then a jeep came into his life and ran Jerry right the fuck over. That was something. Matt didn't believe in fate, but he did believe in a two ton vehicle being capable of ending a person's life in about a second.

Very slowly, he came out of it. All his half thought up responses to whatever it is these people were saying, he couldn't remember them. He snapped out of his stupor.

He looked at Serena and he thanked her.

"Hey, uh.. thanks. I mean, for killing him." He glanced over to Jerry's lifeless corpse, which had a few moments ago so gracefully flew through the air while Jerry let out his last words. A sharp, powerful reeeeeeeee. "He was going to kill me." Matt laughed like that was funny. It really wasn't that funny, but he was laughing anyways.

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Depot. There was a working car on this fucking island, somehow. Hadn't it been abandoned for.. a while? Fuck, none of this made any sense to him. It figured that Jerry gets plowed by the only car on the god damn island. What a fitting way to go. There were a few people in the car. Three, it looked like, and one of them was screaming her head off. Fighting the urge to tell her to shut the fuck up - fuck knew they'd already made more than enough noise to alert every dipshit within a 2 mile radius - Matt slowly began to put his gun away.

"I'm fine. Uh.. wow, you guys totally just.. killed him." He wouldn't call it amazing. He was still mourning the loss of someone who could easily murder people who attacked him. But, still.. the only car on the island.

That was definitely a thing Jerry fuckin' Fury would do.

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Jerry - fucking asshole that he was - now seemed set on starting a fight. One that was potentially deadly. Alright, dickhead, Matt thought, I'll play by your hey is that a car?

That is a car. A car. On the island. Where and how and why and OH FUCK

Purely on instinct, Matt dove out of the way. Given his close proximity to Jerry, this probably might have saved his life. Letting out a short screech, Jerry flew through the air in a manner far from graceful, eventually landing somewhere nearby. Sputtering swear words and speaking in a language men only speak when intensely confused, angry, surprised, or all three, Matt got up, waving his gun around.

"FUCK!" he shouted, momentarily set on avenging his now dead friend/mortal enemy, Jerry fuckin' Fury.

He looked around. Yes, that WAS a car. SOMEHOW. He didn't fucking get it. How the hell did they get a car? Did they build it? Did Danya, dickhead that he was, airdrop it to them? This raised SO MANY QUESTIONS. How did they airdrop a fucking jeep without anyone noticing? Did he airdrop individual parts? When did he put the fucking jeep here?

Slowly, he lowered his gun, eyeing the corpse of Jerry fuckin' Fury. Jerry fuckin' Fury, murderer, dickhead, all around piece of shit.. was dead. And it made Matt feel horrible and then relieved. One less person to kill. He glanced up at the driver of the jeep, raising his hands in a gesture of 'don't kill me.' Then he spoke up.

"Hey, uh.." He had only one question on his mind. "Where'd you get that jeep?"

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
This was comical. Here Jerry was, trying to tell Matt - more himself, really - that he wasn't the dumb muscle. Jerry approached in an exaggerated, weird way. Repeating no and smiling. Matt, frankly, had no idea what to say to any of this. He was almost expecting Jerry to just agree with him that he didn't do most of the thinking.. though Matt frankly didn't do much deep thinking. He kept telling himself that it wasn't the time for that. Was there ever going to be a time, he couldn't say.

There was a time to convince Jerry to kill himself, or something like that. Or at least back off. Jabbing him, loudly declaring that his gun wasn't loaded.. hey, it wasn't loaded, but he could still hit people with it. Slowly - making a goofy face at Jerry - Matt pulled out his gun and held it in what he assume was the NATO standard pistol whipping grip.

"O-kaaaay, Jerry," he said. "Let's say I do try and kill you! Not saying I won't - I mean, will - when would I do it and with what?" Without waiting for Jerry to respond, Matt gave his best impression of a game show buzzer and then Steve Harvey. "EHH. Survey says I'd let someone else do it, Jerry. Get real!"

For a second, Matt's survival instincts kicked in. Maybe he shouldn't be talking shit to someone who could likely stab him, beat him, etcetera. Maybe he should try and deescalate things before Jerry fuckin' Fury decided to give a knife in the ribs as a retort to whatever ingenious insult he'd cooked up.

Or maybe he'd prove to Jerry that he was the brains behind this operation.

Whichever one came first.

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Alright, Jerry was starting to sound less like "valued meathead" and more like "uppity fuckstick." Matt didn't like that. Not one bit. Hey, maybe Jerry would forget that this gun was empty and feel threatened by it? No, too brazen. Not even Jerry's that big of a fucking idiot. Coughing, Matt spoke up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He smiled. "You're the brawn, Jerry, and I'm the brains. Bart's, uh.. the heart. Yeah. The heart. Moral support." He coughed again. Fuck, it smelled in here. "We're all in this together, buddy, so let's start talking about what we're gonna do when we're the last three fuckers left on this shitty rock when it happens. Alright?" That 'we're all in this together' didn't seem at all sincere. Someone could shoot his valued ratfuck meathead and Matt figured he wouldn't feel a thing. Gratitude, maybe, that Jerry was catching bullets that otherwise could've hit him.

"Okay. Yeah. Bart? What'd you think? Moral support sound good to you?"

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
((Matt Moradi continued from here.))

Another rotting corpse, shock and horror. Matt stood a reasonable distance away, covering his noise. It still wasn't enough. He could smell a few days worth of decomposition. He couldn't really figure out whose handiwork this was. He wasn't paying attention to what Jerry was saying, so he didn't quite catch Rotting Corpse #3's name. Hearing Jerry ask for water, Matt reached into his bag and pulled some out. Alan's. He trudged forward to hand it over, gagging.

"Fuck me, this stinks. And it was YOUR idea, Jerry. Good call."

Let the Darkness Flow Through You
Matt mostly agreed with what Jerry said. As long as Bart didn't pull something stupid like Alan - or, fuck him, steal like Henry Spencer - he'd be golden.

"Yeah. Just don't do anything stupid." He took one last look at Alan and then began to follow Jerry.

((Matt Moradi continued here.))