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Devil's Choir
This... Wasn't working. Really, shit these people were ice cold! Wouldn't even let a man get a drink! Well, fuck 'em. Ungrateful motherfuckers, he only went in because they were screaming about Al. Al's a punk, dude, like shit, they were afraid of that?!

Michael continued to pace, this time placing his axe over his shoulder, shrugging at Asha's comments.

"Well... you got me, shit. Least I got you guys talking outside of a few words and shit. I'll go, but you tell that attack dog over there to put his shit away first, I trust the fucker as fast as I can fuck him, and I sure ain't gettin' in his pants any time soon..."

And talk he got. Especially from Jae. Michael could bend that fucker in two. Hell, if he talked to him like that in any other scenario he would. He'd hit him in the kidneys till he pissed blood, he'd kick him in the stomach until he caught IBS or Crohn's or some shit. He'd fuck him up.

"Man, shut the fuck up you hypocrite! You're only talking all that shit coz' you stole that crossbow from a dead kid. Damn sure wasn't self defense from what I see neither, no arrows in you. You ain't even got the balls to look me in the eyes back in Kingman, always staring at the floor when I walk by. Now, you're suddenly some badass motherfucker?!"

Then he mentioned Jerry. That motherfucker mentioned Jerry. Even worse, he knew, that meant he was with Brendan. Brendan was here. They way he talked shit about Jerry though... Michael didn't like none of these people. Fuckin' hardasses, even worse, they think they're in the right. Just gonna sit and wait to win. He wondered how long before Min Jae would take before shooting them both in the back...

Actually.

Wait...

Hold up.

Michael had a plan. Playing the sympathy card for himself did not work. However, the trust card was different. How much could Min Jae's friends trust him.

"Yeah, you're right. Jerry deserved to die right? Totally, I mean, all he wanted was to avenge Scarlett, and when we find the bitch that did her in, she's putting a damn corkscrew or some shit in another kid's eye. Yeah, he deserved to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when some petty fuck wanted to get back at me for saying mean words at him, I ain't even touch the little bitch!"

Michael grinned, flicking his tongue through his teeth as he twirled his axe and pointed it at Jae.

"I deserve to die too, for avenging him. But y'know..."

He pointed to Thing One and Two in front of him.

"If I kill them, then that'd make me innocent by your logic, right? Nancy's innocent. You're innocent too! Tota-fuckin'-ly."

He laughed.

"Hey I'll make you a deal! Three choices!"

He pointed again at Jae.

"Door number one, you put your money where your mouth is, and you come down here to me, show me what you did to Sammy, eh? Only one of us has to die..."

He spun his axe again, mocking some circus ring leader.

"Door number two! You shoot me! Easiest option right, ain't even got to look me in the eyes when you kill me! But... You best not miss, or you better hope I don't get back up..."

He pointed towards Asha and the other girl. His grin disappeared, he wasn't fucking around.

"I'll kill them both, then kill you. Brendan and Nancy only lived because they ran away. Door's behind me. You do the math."

He continued pacing, not speaking for dramatic effect.

He intentionally relaxed his posture for door number three.

"Or door number three, you put that shit away, I walk out, and nobody's gotta go six feet under. How much you give a shit about your buddies there Jae? How much you trust your eyes, you fast enough? Smart enough? You really wanna risk it? I'm not like pussy pickaxe. When I lose a game, I don't lose gracefully, I flip the fuckin' table. That's how I roll man!"

To be honest, he was scared as shit, but desperate calls and desperate measures are a thing after all. These people weren't the good guys anyways. Following under some murderer like that, like he's got the moral high ground. Fuck him. Michael was certain he'd kill Min Jae later, but right now, he had to play it cool. He continued pacing, making himself a harder target, his movements more erratic. If Min Jae fires, it meant he didn't give a rats ass about his two compatriots, and they'd realize it. Michael preferred not to be the doomed moral victor, because y'know, he'd still be dead. But given the chance to screw over the guy who wants him dead, he'd gladly take the chance. Crabs in a Bucket.

His eyes darted between the three people in front of him, hidden by his shades. Asha, other girl, Jae, other girl, Jae, Asha, door, Jae, Asha, other girl, door, Asha, Jae, other girl looked spooked. It never occurred to him that someone might be behind him.

"Shit I even tried to be nice at first to you ungrateful f-"

Who the fuck is Iz?

Oh.

Oh shit...

Devil's Choir
Everyone was speechless for a good five seconds. Option two looked mighty tempting at this point...

Then Asha spoke up. She made a joke. It was...aaactually pretty funny. Michael cocked his head to the side, a light smirk forming on his face. He pressed his tongue through is teeth as he let out a small chuckle.

"Well, I don' know about 'hero' but, I ain't the for-"

And then Jojo McDodd from Horton Hears a Who told him to fuck off. Michael's grin disappeared as he put a single hand on his hip.

"Really? Can we not? L-l-like, can we fuckin' not?" He glanced over towards Alessio, who was already halfway out the door. Well, so much for that piss-baby. He took the time to scan the room behind his sunglasses, before pacing left and right. Looked inconspicuous enough, and a moving target was a harder target.

Min Jae told him to fuck off again. Man, you give a dude a crossbow, and suddenly his dick grew three sizes that day.

What was up with him and Dr. Seuss references? Well... Wasn't his fault they based the emo Who off of that poor bastard's face. Speaking of it, damn he looked fucked up, like someone kicked the shit out of him.

Didn't he appear on the announcements, beating someone else to death? That's not how you use a crossbow, if that even is your crossbow, friend...

Michael continued pacing. He felt like shit for this, but...

His pacing moved over towards the right a little bit. He had to get Asha between him and Jae. Not like, use her as a shield or nothing, just... collateral. Min wouldn't shoot one of his own right? Wait, did Min Jae even have friends? He had killed once already...

It wasn't fucked up for him to do this right? I mean, he wasn't holding her hostage, he was just... positioning himself. Yeah. Fuck, he hoped they didn't know what he was planning, he wasn't getting any closer to them or anything, all he was doing was making himself a harder target. That's it. If Min Jae shoots, it's on him. Min would be okay with having blood on his hands anyways if he's willing to shoot... Michael wouldn't feel bad at all about rushing him if it came to that. Those crossbows take time to reload, and if Min missed... Then again if he hit her, then Mike'd feel guilty for standing in that spot. But still, it wasn't like- man just open your mouth and speak, get the fucker to lower his arms!

"Woah, woah, woah... That's the thanks I get? Fuckin' hearin' screaming and shit, come in for the rescue, and you get all pissed off at me?" Michael pointed at his own chest for emphasis. Use your words, play the empathy card. Gotta get the fucker to lower the gun.

"Hell, I should get a 'thank you' for scaring 'Spooks Bloodyfuck' off. He probably woulda' put his pickaxe in one of your friends here if I didn't come. It's like fuck man, the only other sane person I know gets pig-sticked, and everyone else has gone off their fuckin' Adderall. Like shit dude, I had a real shitty day, I lost the only friend I made on this island, the ones from back home are getting killed by scum-sucking fuckers, my fuckin' pinkey gets lopped off, and I can't even get a place to sit down and get me a fucking refreshing drink of piss-warm bottled beverage."

Michael shook his head, pacing. His heart was jumping. He could feel his veins wanting to burst out his skin. His stomach felt like it was in one of those high-g force machines astronauts ride for training. Michael was scared as shit, and he was moving to desperate measures. He was disgusted in himself for the cowardice he was performing right now, using someone as a sort of blockade like that. He had to though. He could try to turn and leave, but at this point, Min Jae might shoot him in the back. Goddamnit, you can't do anything around here without digging yourself in a deeper hole.

"Is there anyone I can get a normal chat with? Like at all? Anyone willing to talk like a normal person for once?"

That was all he could hope for, getting them to talk. That's it, that's all he wanted. It wouldn't be so risky turning around then...

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan rubbed his hands through his hair. He wanted to do something for Danny. For everyone on this island. They're dying because he's not getting help fast enough. How can he? Their only plan won't even start until tomorrow, and even if they get to it, what then? They might die before they're halfway through with it. Their collars might be detonated, or the plan may not even work. What then?

What then?

He hated this, he hated being alone. Without anyone around, he couldn't help but feel pessimistic about everything. He wanted to feel like everything would turn out okay, but even if things went well, it would never be okay again. There would always be that burden, the knowledge that people died, and people tried to kill. Who could he trust at that point?

He had a decision to make, and it all depended on if he'd see the people he'd trust again. No. What was he thinking?! He couldn't give up now, not after all this time. He won't. Even if he failed, nobody could say he didn't try.

But Jonathan knew this wasn't about trying. This was about succeeding. It wasn't about him, it was about everyone here. Not him. He had to remember that.

They came back. Both asked about him. Brendan had some big shotgun. Once Jonathan's eyes noticed how big the barrel was however, they widened in shock. A gun with a barrel that big meant it fired something heavy. Brendan probably had a grenade launcher. Jonathan snapped himself back to reality to answer them.

"Danny's... well, he's inside. I was waiting for you guys to come back, I thought we could cover him, or, lay him somewhere better, I guess."

He shook his head.

"We can't let this keep happening."

Devil's Choir
(( Michael Crowe continued from Karma Chameleon ))

Michael stared at his bandaged hand as he walked away from the asylum. The pain had simmered down to a dull ache, and now all he could do was contemplate the fact that he was missing one of his digits.

It was kind of interesting in a weird way, he could still feel it. Not in the sense that the stump hurt, coz' it still did, it stung like a bitch if he accidentally touches something with it, but outside of that, it still felt like his pinky was still there. Like he could wiggle it, close it, all that shit that a normal pinky does. He could feel it still there, even if it wasn't there.

He placed his axe underneath his arm as he tried to see if he could touch his other hand with his ghost finger. He didn't really feel anything on either side. His pinky obviously went through his hand, but neither one could feel each other. He felt himself wiggle his ghost back and forth.

Man, this was so fuckin' weird...

He looked up and saw a chapel in front of him. Knowing how much of a dick Irony was, one of the big killers were hiding out here. He laid his axe upon his shoulder and walked towards it, imagining some dramatic fight with Holy Diver playing in the background. The Dio one, not the shitty Killswitch Engage one.

He stopped outside the doorway, and looked at his reflection through one of the stained glass windows. Shit he needs to fix his hair. His revenge conquest had to wait a moment, as he pulled his comb out and got to work.

...Better?

Better.

He overheard a commotion within the chapel, something about "speaking up or gee-tee-eff-oh'ing". If there were people in there, maybe they could also tell him the whereabouts of people on his shit list.

Well, that was his cue.

He pressed his foot against the door, and opened it with the laziest of kicks. After all, who needs arms with legs like these, right?

It was casual enough to not be over-dramatic, but dramatic enough to not be boring. It meant he could totally stomp the door open if he wanted to, but he didn't really feel like it. He treated it like kicking doors open was an everyday occurrence for him. He had made his appearance known, he had shown that he had no fucks to give, he had shown that...

Oh shit he fucked up.

Crybaby with a pickaxe to his right. Mall goth with a crossbow to his front. Two more people a little ways ahead of him.

No matter his position, he was right in the kill zone. He done goof'd. He could only stand there silently after announcing his big entrance, just staring at them staring at him.

There was two options now, back out slowly, live, but look like a bitch. Then there was stand your ground, still look like a bitch, but less of one, and probably die.

This wasn't a movie, the smart option was option one.

Michael stared blankly before speaking up.

"Fuck y'all lookin' at?"

...

...

He hadn't learned from the various other times he had picked option two.

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan watched as they left. He closed the door behind him, and sighed, sliding down the door and sitting inside the building.

This was a disaster...

Everyone was killing everyone... What chance did he have of saving anyone? Hell, he couldn't trust any of his closest friends to stick with him. They were either dead, trying to kill people, or thinking of it. It should've been something unthinkable, something nobody should ever want or contemplate, but their class?

They were making it look easy.

Even worse, he could imagine some of them doing it easily. He wanted to say he was surprised about what Brendan told him, but something. Something was off. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but it wasn't shock.

Maybe Michael and Jeremiah had a reason for it? Maybe that girl wasn't so innocent. He'd have to ask Brendan when he g-

What was that? Red....

Red.

Jonathan walked closer towards the red, before a scent hit his nostrils. He knew all too well what it was, despite it's unfamiliarity. He put the collar of his hoodie over his nose as he went closer to inspect it.

Danny was laying there, covered in red. Everything around him was red.

He turned around. He couldn't do this anymore. The people on this island were fucking crazy. He had to find a place for Danny. He should probably find something to cover him.

He reached for his hoodie on reflex before he remembered where he was at. This was a housing block, there were bed sheets near by. They'd probably be a better cover than a hoodie.

Then there was the fact that Jonathan couldn't just leave Danny laying there. He was going to need some help to bring him some place better.

He turned and walked back outside the building, waiting for his new allies to return.

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan watched as Brendan and Alba spoke to each other. His head lowered as Brendan kept to his story. He shouldn't be so selfish, Alba had lost someone, and Brendan was...messed up to say the least for what he had to do. Jonathan had wished Brendan didn't tell him who the victim's accomplice was. He wanted to find Michael, to talk to him. He really wanted to hear his side to it.

He couldn't do that though, he still had to plan out how to get everyone off this island. He had promised Barry, and he couldn't break it now, he's spent too long not getting anything done. He had to do this.

Had to.

Jonathan pulled out his map, pointing towards the gym.

"H-hey Alba? I think if you follow this trail you'll get there, but before you go I gotta tell you something; you too, Brendan." He pointed towards the radio tower on the map.

"Me and Darius think we can get this working. If we can, we can set up a signal, one I don't think the terrorists could block without shutting down their show." Jonathan looked at the two.

"I don't know a thing about radio signals or anything like that, but if we get it working, we'll become a glowing blip for any rescue party's radar, or the terrorists shut down all their broadcasts to hide it. People will come for us, or the people who put us here won't be able to show this any more."

He sighed. He didn't know a thing about radio broadcasts, this was all wishful thinking, that if he got this up and running he wouldn't die for nothing, but that possibility was still very real. And that was even if they got it working. He wouldn't scare them with 'what if's though, he had to stay positive.

"Alba, I hope you find your friends, and if you do, can you tell them about us? We could use all the help we can get."

There was another problem. There was Brendan, who just looked too messed up, he had to help him out. He couldn't lose hope yet, even if... He had to block that out of his mind. There were reasons, and he'd ask if he got the chance. Brendan may have done something wrong, but he...

Brendan believed he did it for the right reasons. He saved someone else's life, and that's all that mattered. If he could have done it another way, Jonathan believed he would have done it.

"It's okay Brendan. You tried to do the right thing, you saved someone. The important part is you tried to help. It wasn't for something selfish. And for whatever reason, the terrorists are giving you something for it. It sounds fucked up, but you need to take it. You might need it to save your life later on. Go and grab it, than come back here, we still believe you Brendan."

He opened the door, looking inside the building.

"If any of you see Darius, could you tell him I'll be waiting here? I don't think I'll be going anywhere else for a while."

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan's tension eased when the gunman. Gunwoman? It was Alba. Her and Brendan knew each other so that might make things easier. Jonathan could find out what's really going on, and in return tell Brendan the truth about his plans.

Alba wanted a talk too, she wanted to be with people. Jonathan really didn't blame her. That time he spent alone after what happened to Barry? He wouldn't be surprised if some of the insane people on this island started that way too.

Alone...

Jonathan looked up at the sky only to see Brendan above him. Well, he was about a foot taller than him, Jonathan felt kind of embarrassed about it. All Alba had to do was aim up if she wanted Brendan dead. Or shoot twice...

Jonathan shook his head of any negative thoughts and moved aside, leaning against the wall. He still thought about what Brendan told him. It couldn't have been true, but the way Brendan was so shook up over it...

"We were... We were just talking about what happened yesterday."

He needed answers first, then he'd tell him his part.

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan watched as Brendan looked like he was just about to break down. He regretted his decision to question him, it was clear Brendan didn't plan on or want to do what he did. But even preparing himself for how Brendan reacting to his question didn't prepare him for what he told him.

"Y-you're lying."

Jonathan put his hand over his mouth as he heard Brendan tell his story. Jeremiah and... No way, no. Jeremiah and Michael were taunting a girl, t-that they were going to kill her?! No, no no no no... Something's wrong here...

"You're lying to me, y- he couldn't have..."

Michael wouldn't be one of them. He wouldn't murder someone like that, o-or draw it out, laughing like some sort of hyena...

Jonathan didn't know what to do, he didn't know who to believe. He needed to find Michael, to talk to him, but...

---

Jonathan was walking home from work before he ran into Michael. They had a rather average conversation before Jon asked how Darius was doing. Apparently Michael had found a problem with Brendan not waving at Darius, or something petty like that, so he had threatened him until he did it right.

Man, you shoulda' seen the look on his face! Fucker learned some manners after that, an' I didn't even touch him. Fuck man! He waddled home like he shit his pants!"

Jonathan just shook his head at it, he always put stories like that in the back of his mind. He knew Michael just did it to impress him or one of his other friends. He never really meant it. He looked back at Michael to see a woman with an assault rifle standing a few feet away from them.

---

Jonathan snapped out of his day dream just long enough to realize the woman with the gun was real.

"Brendan! Behind you!"

Jonathan pushed himself between Brendan and the newcomer with the gun. He didn't have time to question Brendan any further, right now the only thing he could do was try and make whoever was pointing the gun at them stop.

"Don't, j-just ,wait a minute..."

He raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat.

"Let's talk, okay?"

This time I might just disappear
Jonathan stared upward, trying to think of something to get help. People had to come here...

But they didn't know. They didn't know where they were! How could he have forgotten that one part! They had to know where they were at before they could find them! He had a realization, he could make a plan, he-

could get interrupted... The voice was familiar, and Jonathan thought it was Darius at first, but once he turned his head.

There he was. He was familiar all right. But he wasn't Darius, wasn't Michael, no...

Brendan Harte, the killer was looking right at him. He killed Jeremiah, and from the sounds of the announcement, it wasn't in self defense. The fact he had a spear in his hand made it all the more apparent.

Jonathan got up immediately, and stormed towards Brendan.

He was about to verbally lay into him when he realized something else.

Brendan had found Jonathan at his worst. He gave him his jacket, he watched him while he slept. He could've killed him. This was before Brendan even knew if they were gonna plan an escape with Darius, shit, Jon just realized he still kept Brendan out of the loop! He didn't know a thing going on!

He could have killed him, but he didn't... Why'd he leave. He said he wanted to find his friends, but was it really true? Brendan might have kept him out of the loop on something... Maybe Brendan wanted some insurance in the rare chance he outlives this game, if their escape plan failed.

Was that all Jeremiah's life amounted to? Life Insurance?

"Brendan... Why?"

There was nothing else he could say, he had to know the why's before he questioned Brendan's morality. It's not common for someone to watch over someone, then kill another person later on. He had to know why.

"W-why, why'd you do it?"

Jonathan couldn't be angry at this point, he was only disappointed now.

Karma Chameleon
(( Michael Crowe continued from This World Belongs to the Mad ))

Michael dragged his way up the stairs towards the asylum rooftop. Man this was a shitty day. He hadn't remembered the last time he'd been outside. He's spent way to long in that shithole, he needed some fresh air. He looked behind him, down the stairwell, and noticed the rather obvious trail of blood he was leaving. If Alex and his Droog wanted to hunt him, they'd have no trouble. He figured now would be the best time to hurry up and fix his hand.

He pushed the door out of the way, before bolting the handle shut with his axe. Maybe not the smartest choice, but nobody would sneak up on him. He turned around and man, was it still dark. The sun was in the distance, but it was dark as shit outside. Michael took his sunglasses off.

Oh, no it was not. It was still dawn, but it was a lot brighter than he'd thought. He had just realized he'd been wearing the things all night. Shit, imagine if he took them off at night, he'd be like a bat. Could fucking see all sorts of shi- "Augh!"

The tip of his glasses poked him in the stump where his pinky used to be as if to remind him. Task at hand motherfucker! Task at hand...

He moved around the corner of the stairwell, staying just behind the door. Anyone walked through, it'd mean shock knife ambush for them. He pulled out the first aid kit, looking through it's contents. He pulled his pinkey finger out of his coat pocket and examined it. Yeah... no way it would come back on. No reason for saving it either, all it was now was a damn paperweight. He still put it back in his pocket anyways, when he fucked Alex's shit up, he'd make him eat it. When he'd eventually shit it back up, Michael would make him eat it again, then kill him... Yeah, fuck that chode. Fucking shit-licker.

So... How in the fuck was he gonna do this. He couldn't just wrap it up and hope it'd stop bleeding, he'd have to close it some how. There was a lighter and some hand sanitizer...

"Fuck me, this is gonna sting like a bitch..." He looked over at his hand. And that wasn't even going to be the worst part... There was exposed bone, just sticking out. He'd have to get that out of the way if he wanted to fix it as proper as you could fix shit like this. This is fucking Third-world shit man, and he was from the First! Some grade A medieval doctor-y shit! How was he gonna get the bone out?!

Tweezers? Maybe scissors... "Let's uhhh.... Let's try the scissors first. Yeah..."

He picked them up with his left hand, and pointed them to his right. It'll be like a chicken bone, it'll snap right off, it would only hurt for a moment... He closed the blades around the bone-

"OOOHHH HOOO HOO, FUCK!" Michael's feet kicked at the ground below him! He didn't even close in yet! He just touched it holy shit this fucking hurts like a son of a fuck on flying fuckbuddy day what the fuuuuuuuck! He let off and looked up, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Just getting started, and he already wanted to give up. Damn dude. Okay, attempt numero dos.

Open scissors. Surround bone. Close scissors. On the count of three... Okay, one- "AUUUUGH FUCK WHY ISN'T IT WORKING, GAHDDAMMIT!" Michael screamed as the blades ground against bone. That was supposed to work! He fucking tricked himself and everything with the counting! That only works if you get someone else to do it, Mikey... Fuck off!

He tossed the scissors to the side and looked at the bone. All he did was indent it. Okay, tweezer time. Yank it off like a chicken bone. That's all it is, a chicken bone. The tweezers clamped around it. He moaned in pain.

Just yank it off, like a chicken bone, you know how chicken bones break, hell you eat a lot of chicken, that's why you still haven't lost that third half-tire- "UWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHNNNN FUUUUUU-HUUUU-HUUUUU-UUCCCK!" This is not like a chicken bone at all brain! You lied, you fucking lied you dick, it's like a fucking tooth, oh my God what the fuck!

His arm jerked left and right before a odd crack like sound echoed in his ears. There was a sudden surge, then numbness. Michael pulled the tweezers up, and saw the little bone in it. Victory you fuckers!

Michael's head leaned back against the wall, all he could do was laugh. He looked towards the camera staring at him, getting all those juicy details in.

"Laugh it up you fuh-fuckers, oh you rat bastard fucks... I'ma- I'ma put these tweezers in your dick, you- you- ah fuck, you're lucky I can't think of a-anything right now, aheh... Aheh..."

Halfway done, take a breather, halfway there... Cauterzemize it, then bandyaids. Yeah. Something like that. He grabbed the lighter, and the hand sanitizer. This will do.

Famous last words.

He angled his hand under the bottle, lighter in hand on top. In one quick go, he'll drop a blob of cleaning material that burns already, then bring his arm down to actually burn it.

He deciding against hyping himself up this time, instead opting to just breath and do it. It...didn't really help. He hissed like a pissed off cat as the cleaning fluid landed in the stump. One flick of his finger later, it glowed like a ball of light.

To say this was the loudest Michael has ever screamed is an understatement. To say it was the loudest scream on the island? Also an understatement. To say you could probably hear it all the way from the bell tower? Probably pretty plausible.

--- --- ---

Michael woke up a few hours later after bandaging himself up. That was... Most certainly the worst experience of his life. The announcements caught him off guard.

All in all, he expected everything he heard. People killed people. Isabel and Nancy killed more people. Brendan's a fucking rat, yada yada yada. There were however, two things that did catch him off guard.

One was Kimiko and her killing of Brad. That fucking bitch was next on the list. Michael tilted his head in a moment of silence for both him and Jerry.

The second was Brendan getting rewarded for being a coward ass bitch. Michael was gonna push that reward straight up Brendan's nose next time he saw him.

Time to get back to it then. He'd have to change his tactics up a bit. No more talking, just do it. Get it done.

He pulled himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, took a moment to adjust his hair, put his shades back on, finally, after the long self inflicted preparation montage, he grabbed his axe and walked back in the asylum.

(( Michael Crowe continued elsewhere))

This time I might just disappear
(( Jonathan Gulley continued from Return of the Manatee))

Jonathan walked to the doorstops of Dorm B. This was the closest area to the Radio Tower, and Darius probably thought it was a good idea to head here as well. He hoped so anyways...

He sat down and thought of his plan. They were going to have another day to do it after all...

He pulled out his tape recorder. Maybe he should do something with this?

He looked back at the trail he came from.

What about Brendan? He won the 'best' kill award... He might be heading this way to get his prize. Jonathan would have to confront him to see why he killed Jeremiah.


He needed a moment to calm down. There were a lot of things happening at once, he just had to slow down. The Radio Tower had no power, but maybe they could give it some? Maybe a gas generator at the vehicle depot. If they could get some gasoline and fix it up... There was a very real probability of living. But then again, their collars could get blown.

They'd need to get rid of the collars first. There had to be something they could use. EMP's or something. Maybe even radio signals?

He leaned his back against the wall and sat down.

"Damn, Barry... What'd you think we should do?"

He awaited an answer that'd never come.

This World Belongs to the Mad
Michael stared wordlessly as he listened to Alex talk. Didn't reply to his question of who the hero was, or the little jab about if he'd still believe it later on. He didn't believe it now, why would he then? It's called mind games fool, you gotta bullshit the bullshitter. Make him believe he was something special, something he's not. When it came to the mind games, he was a fucking genius. Nobody could get around him. It was no surprise he got out of it with a few choice words. Can't find a way around them? Flatter them, or fuck them up. Whichever's easier...

What did surprise him was the offered handshake. Michael eyed it suspiciously through his shades, but he couldn't turn it down. A sign of good faith, and if you turn down a handshake, well fuck that's just rude. His parents taught him better, never decline a handshake. Biggest insult you can give someone outside explicit remarks about fornicating with their dead daddy. Wonder what Ben's up to right now anyways?

His arm extended, gripped Alex's tightly. Weak handshakes mean weak people afte- WHAT IN THE GODDAMN?!

Michael's foot shot out from under him, the other one resting on the axe slipping, not enough grip with the ground. A bright silver flew through the sky towards his arm, and his own hand flew right back at him, something wet splashing across his face. Michael caught himself before face-planting, his glasses hanging limp over his nose. His eyes moved over to his hand.

One, two, three, four....

One... Two... Three... Four...






Four....


Four. Wha?

Then it hit. Realization first, pain second. He rolled to his side, grabbing his hand, red seeping between his fingers and onto his clothing. His voice raised an octave or six as he screamed."AAAAUGH! AAAAAHHHSSSSSSHHH AAAAAAFFFF-FFFFFF-" His falsetto screaming cut into hissing, spittle flying every which way, before transitioning into saying an entire sentence consisting of only expletives.

"MMMMMOTHERF-FUCKIN' DICK SUCK CUNT FUCKING FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCKER FUCKING FUCK FUCKERS!"

He lurched up and flung himself at his axe.

"FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUC-"

He was cut off. Almost literally, Alex's machete was at his neck.

"Ffffffuck..."

Alex called him a coward, then had the audacity to turn his back. The bastard even took his foot off his axe, just to taunt him. Michael looked up, then back down at his axe, at the pink, bleeding little stump laying by it that used to be his pinky. Michael grabbed the pinky with his bad hand, and picked his axe up with his good hand.

Turn your back on me you motherfucker...

Michael could smash Alex's skull in two right now, he most certainly had every right to do so. He wouldn't see it coming. Michael stood up, his fingers tapping the handle of his axe. His other hand twitched. Blood dripped, Michael sniffled, then spat.

He wasn't gonna do it.

"Knew it, fucker. Proved it for m-me right there. If I w-was really unfit, you'd have fuckin' killed me right there. You see it too, you spit-dicker!"

Michael pointed his axe at Jeremy and Alex.

"You're crazy... You're dead." Michael nodded at his own words. "Both of you, you're dead." At this point he was sure he was quoting something, but it hurt so much right now he wasn't sure who he was quoting. "And you know it! Y-you're dead!"

Michael back stepped towards the corner.

"Remember what I said Alex, I gave you a taste of hell, before I send you there!" He pointed the severed pinky at them. "This is gonna be your dessert, fucker!"

He was at the corner now.

"Oh, and until I see you again to utterly facefuck your shit, you fuckin' fuckwads can go fuck yourself!"

He turned the corner and walked away. In the distances a few more footsteps could be heard, along with another string of vulgar language.

Parental Advisory recommended, content unsuitable for minors...

(( Michael Crowe continued elsewhere)

This World Belongs to the Mad
Ever closer.

Ever closer...

His foot slowly reached his axe, and planted itself just on the hilt. All it took... One swift move, and he was gone.

But for Jeremy, all it took was one twitch, and then he'd be gone...

Shit.

Alex started rising again, his face was fucking red as a jacked dick. Wait no, what kind of dick bleeds when you jack it? Actually, don't answer that. Point is, Michael had walloped him well. He'd be proud of himself had he not run the risk of turning into skull salad. He laughed at him... The audacity of this punk. The fucking audacity, the bastard had the upper hand only because- FUCK!

Alex had a partner in crime, and at this point, Michael didn't. He also didn't know of Jeremy's gun. Shit, this was a trap, and he was gonna pay for it.

Alex opened his mouth, and Michael half expected a bullet to blast right through him. He complemented the hit? Whaaat in the fuuuuuck?

Okay, these fuckers were whacked the fuck out. Insane in the membrane, loopy as shit. He asked about why he hadn't killed him...

Why didn't he axe the fucker in two?

Alex was a murderer, Michael would be in the right to do so. He walked towards him and asked for it. Michael was a vigilante, not a hero, so why didn't he take the chance, why'd he follow the whole honorable route? He-

Michael laughed. He couldn't stop. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

There's a moment where everything just clicks. It all falls into place. Where you have the realization of your life. Michael had been telling himself the entire time that this wasn't a movie, that this was real life. But was it really?

There were cameras everywhere, watching every moment. People acted in ways he'd never thought possible, nobody was truly their selves. They were all playing some part in a fucked up Greek Tragedy, and all Danya amounted to was the Chorus...

All it took was a little pushing.

Well, not really, Michael wasn't batshit insane. He didn't believe none of that bullshit, but Alex... Playing sane wouldn't help, he'd have to out-crazy him out of the room if he wanted to live.

You know what they say about not beating them right? You join them.

"Come on, Al..."

Michael turned and grinned towards Alex.

"You know exactly why I let you live. Think for a moment."

He lowered his arms, grabbing his belt loop. His head tilted up. This wouldn't work with the coward-ass 'don't shoot me' pose.

"You can't die now, neither can I, we're Murphy and Boddicker, Mad Max and Toecutter, Decker and Roy, The Terminator and Connor, Mclane and Gruber... You know exactly why, Alex."

Michael reached to his jacket pocket, slowly pulling his Wayfarers back out. His foot tensed over the axe. Please let this work.

"I didn't kill you, because you didn't have my permission to die, Alex. I told you I'd kill you last, and I meant it. Whatever happens before the climax, nobody knows, but I know this, and you know it too, nobody's gonna kill either of us, except one of us once all is said in done."

He flipped his shades open. Please for the love of all that is holy, let this work.

"When it comes down to it, nobody's gonna save you from me, and nobody's gonna save me from you. Your lackey back there? He's gonna be dead long before either of us meets. Whether or not it'll be me or you to do it depends all on what happens here."

He placed his shades along his face. Please oh pleaaase, do not fuck this up now.

"That punch was something for you to think about. I wanted to show you just what you're in for later on down the line. Give you a little taste. A little taste of hell, just before I send you there. Savor it..."

His foot pressed harder against his axe. This was about the stupidest shit he'd ever heard himself say. But goddamn, if it fails, at least it'd look good as an epitah. At least it'd be along the levels of Hold muh beer an' watch 'dis...

"We'll meet again soon, Al."

Return of the Manatee
((Skipping because of DZ))

Jonathan was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. Again, he felt that wad of dread force it's way up his insides. This time it didn't stop. Once he had heard Brendan's name, Jonathan couldn't hold it in anymore.

He stared at the puddle of puke as Brendan's name repeated itself over and over in his head.

Not only did he kill someone, from behind.

Wait... From behind?! Oh no... He didn't. He could've... Why?

Why did he go out of his way to take care of him, only to kill Jeremiah like that? Why would he help someone, then murder someone else like that?

Something was up. There had to be a motive for it. Danya said a lot of things, even gave him the best kill reward, but maybe, maybe Brendan had a reason. All he could do was talk to him. Maybe, maybe that would help.

Something else hit him. A beep. Jonathan wasn't paying attention until the beep hit.

Oh shit...

Jonathan wiped his mouth and looked up. Their escape plan had to wait.

"Darius, run!"

Jonathan grabbed his bag and sprinted for the door.

He ran until the beeping stopped, then looked behind him.

Did Darius make it out? Jonathan would have to find him and regroup. Darius might've said some dumb shit, but he didn't deserve to die over saying things.

((Jonathan Gulley, This time I might just dissappear.))

This World Belongs to the Mad
(Skipping with permission)

The punch was satisfying, played out perfectly. The boxing exhale, the crack of wind trailing along the arm, the clap of the impact. Everything was perfect, hell, Michael's knuckles even hurt from that one. Wondered how Alex's jaw felt. He felt his left arm prepare for the next blow when something in his peripherals moved.

Michael's blood froze, and his eyes widened like dinner plates.

Jeremy pointed his gun at the violent Mike Score look-a-like.

"Ho!" Michael raised his arms and backed away. There was no way he could get around a bullet, not at this range, not with Jeremy's line of sight on him. Michael wasn't stupid, he knew if he tried shit here, he'd get a bullet through the head. Or worse, a bullet through the head...

"Woah, hey man... L-listen..."

His axe was on the ground, he couldn't believe he fell for something so stupid. Alex and Jeremy were teamed up, they could've planned this. They probably did plan this. Easiest trick in the book, the slight of hand. Fuck! They had him by the balls and he couldn't even swing back, son of a bitch!

"Y-you're pointing that a-at the wrong person... Y-you really think an asshole like that's got your back?! He'll suffocate you in-in your fuckin' sleep!"

He had to think of something, had to get out of here. If he moved now, Jeremy would put one right through him. Michael was scared. He was scared as a fucking fuck!

"J-just think this through..."

His foot slowly edged over to his axe...

V6 BDA Quote Nomination Thread #2
“I guess I...I guess I got Kimiko’s point.”

This World Belongs to the Mad
Michael cocked his head to the side as he awaited Alex to rush him. But he didn't.

What the fuck? That's how it's supposed to be right?

Then Alex spoke up. Well, not quite that.

He laughed.

Michael couldn't help it. He laughed too.

Michael laughed, Alex laughed. Michael laughed harder. Alex laughed harder.

Then he stopped. What he had said had caused Michael to stop laughing as well.

Who's weak, and who's strong?

No... don't tell me...

He dropped his weapon and started walking over. What in the fuck?! Did he expect Michael to just walk away? To just give up and not embed his axe into his head? Did he really think that?! The cajones of the son of a bitch...

Well...

He was right.

Michael's left arm extended to the side, still holding the axe. He dropped it, with all the clang and echo you'd expect from dropping an axe in a dark metal hallway.

Michael couldn't help but smile back as Alex grinned at him like that. Like some small child getting his sibling in trouble for looting the cookie jar. That smug fucking grin. The eyes didn't fit though, there was something about them. Something off. Wasn't quite puppy dog eyes, but they didn't seem too happy.

Michael's right arm wanted to shake as he reached up to take his sunglasses off. He forced it to stay still. He wasn't gonna be phased by this prick. But he had to admit, something about him was unnerving. Really fucking unnerving. Michael's breath rattled. He forced it into a little laugh.

"So... You're the fittest huh?"

Michael nodded his head.

"Means you were 'entitled' to killing Rea, right?"

He hooked his glasses into his chest pocket. He placed his hands on Alex's shoulders, looking him in the eyes.

"Y'know what, Alex? I like you. I like you enough that I think I'll kill you last."

Michael nodded, and his arms dropped. He turned, as if to walk away.

At this point, you'd think he'd lost, learned the error of being cocky. That he'd walk away like nothing happened. After all the shit he's seen, you really think he'd give up like that? Of course he wasn't really gonna walk away like some damn punk.

He turned again, and swung a mean ass sucker punch in Alex's direction.

After all, just because he'd kill him last didn't mean that he wouldn't put the fucker in his place first.

This World Belongs to the Mad
((Skipping Jeremy with permission from Yugi))
Michael raised a single eyebrow as he listened to Alex speak. And he thought Nancy disgusted him... Did Alex lose his fucking mind?! Michael put the TP back into his bag, feeling the two wooden clubs next to them. Alex was crazy, no doubt about it, he wasn't even sociopathic. It was the other one. Pure psycho. The question was, had he snap, or was he always like this?

He left his bag unzipped as he contemplated his chances. Alex had his machete, and well, it'd hurt like a bitch if it cut him. Hopefully his 60 mph asphalt proof jacket would help against it. God knows it's useless against bullets, but blades, well only one way to find out... Michael thought about his own weapons. Two clubs, one of them jagged from being yanked halfway off, decent, but not too good. Then there was his axe. Pretty bitchin', but there wasn't much you could do with it in terms of use. You can smack, or you can cut. Both could be fatal. But most of it was wood. Alex's blade could cut through that, he was pretty sure, so he'd have to dodge instead of block, that'd wear him out quicker. Their range was equal to, Alex slightly more so because of his height. Damn, we was at a bit of a disadvantage. But; there was also his plan B. Jerry's shock knife, placed firmly in his jacket. He forced back some thoughts of self blame as he brought himself to focus on the task at hand. He half listened to Alex talk, half daydreamed about knocking his cadaver through a window. His eyes trailed over to Jeremy.

Jeremy didn't look like he cared too much. Hey, SOTF was a spectator sport after all. Could get closer to winning just by watching, who could blame him? Maybe he just stayed with Alex because nobody better would come along. Well, with Michael's help, his options would open...

Alex caught Michael's attention when he stepped forward. Did this little dickwit just...

Michael felt his grin come, he couldn't help it. His heart started pounding, and that adrenaline started pumping. The anticipation was like a fine wine after all...

"Ooooooh ho ho! Naah man, did I just hear you threaten me!?"

Michael tapped his finger against the handle of his axe.

"I-Is that a way to treat an old friend?" He feigned shock, as if his feelings were hurt.

They weren't old friends, acquaintances more like. Michael liked Alex's company before the games, how rare they were, but this? Michael had found someone worse than rock bottom. He managed to find someone who he utterly abhors. And it used to be someone so fuckin' affable...

"Now, I get that you think you're hot shit for killing some little girl..." Rea was like six feet though. What the fuck are you talking about, Mikey? "But I'm not some helpless screamer. I'm not gonna lay in the shower and yell while you chop me up, buddy. Speakin' of which..."

Michael tilted his head up. He wanted to know a few things before he put this fucker six feet under. He wanted to know how Hannibal Loser ticked.

"Why'd you do it? Kill Rea, I mean. Made you feel strong? Oooor, were you scared? Just wanted to get it over with?"

Michael wagged his finger. He then shook his head. "Naaah, that ain't it..."

"Y'know what I think?"

Michael pointed his axe from his groin, in a juvenile attempt to mimic an erection.

"I think you did it to give your little woody there some wood!" Michael mimed jerking the axe with a pelvis thrust here and there to taunt him further.

"That's what it is, ain't it, fucker! You wanted the sexual thrill of it! That get you off Al'? Killin' little girls like that? Bet it makes you feel like a man, don't it, you petty little pimp fuck! Fuckin' rat coward, that's what you are!"

Michael swung his axe through the air, grinning like a crocodile. He repeated the term 'Little girl' to underscore Alex's 'achievement' if you could call it that. He wanted to lower whatever chance anyone had on taking him seriously. He wanted Alex to know that he was nothing more than a dime-a-dozen coward. And what better way to tell him yourself that you thought he was an insignificant little skid mark on the crusty briefs that were this island.

"You kill lil' girls coz' it makes you feel like hot shit, amirite'? Well, news flash fucko, I ain't a lil girl, and the only hot shit you're gettin' is the one I'm leavin' on your fuckin' chest once I'm done splittin' you dick to dome, buddy!"

He brought his axe up into a defensive position. Alex was either gonna nut up or shut up. Michael had already made his choice of the two.

"Feelin' like hot shit now, motherfucker?"