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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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((Jerry Fury continued from Rare Footage of Jerry Worried))

The jog over from the radio tower was a short one. That was a good thing; Jerry didn't mind running, but these stupid day packs were a little cumbersome. His neck also felt much warmer than usual, a few beads of sweat dripping down from the back of his head and getting caught between the skin and the metal band of the collar. Things were starting to get a little itchy. Suddenly, a bomb going off around his throat seemed comparatively nice.

"I've got a complaint to make about these things," Jerry said while hoping a nearby camera could hear. He tapped on the collar, swallowing some spit collected in his mouth. "Can't you, like... install climate control in them or whatever? I've seen those at the mall, and I think it'd be pretty nice to do for us. Since you're killing us and all." Hoo boy, that got dark quickly. Better think of something to get your mind off the imminent death of you and all but one of your classmates.

Jerry had found himself standing before a humble cabin of some sort. Pulling the switchblade out of his pocket and tucking it closely in his balled fist, he walked an entire circle around the house, his eyes flickering from window to window to watch for guns. He figured that if anybody started shooting, he could probably just dart back and forth all serpentine-like and dodge the shit out of those bullets... that's how it worked in FPS games, right? At the very least, he'd be throwing their aim all outta wack.

The small area behind the cabin opened into some kind of bay. Not a crazy distance away, there was a metal truss bridge of some sort running across to the other side and, as Jerry's eyes followed along the shore, he could trace most of the shoreline around the bay. The island they were on seemed to closely resemble that one island from Battlefield 2... Jerry couldn't place the name.

Somewhere on the other side of the bay, a bell rang out. Jerry simultaneously got Pantera and Metallica songs stuck in his head as he listened to it ring out, then turned back to the cabin. Well, if anybody had been in there and had been alert, he'd have been shot in the head like... six times already. Failing that, he walked back around to the front door, checked the handle to make sure that he could indeed enter, and stepped inside.
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Aug 28 2016, 01:06 AM.
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Aaaaaand he's gone. · The Hunting Cabin