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"Alrighty, maybe we'll find someone in here, if not, we could just loot the place, or set it up as a base of operations or some crazy shit." Michael walked between the various rusted vehicles, giving them a good look.

He stopped at one, his leaned his head towards the window. He wiped away the dust with his elbow and stared at his reflection. Putting his axe underneath his arm again, he moved his hands through his hair. For waking up on a death island, he didn't look too bad. Needed to comb a bit, but not bad. Michael lowered his sunglasses towards his reflection, clicking his lips in his trademark Hollywood style. "Shoulda' been an actor Michael, that face, and that hair... Was gonna get you paid and laid baby!"

Michael leaned back up, chuckling. His hand brushed the bangs of his hair to the side. He noticed Jerry was staring at him like he'd done something stupid. Did he not look at himself in the mirror enough or something?


Michael shrugged and continued his trek towards the garages. Technically he was still famous right now. Hell, this was probably the easiest way to become famous. He certainly wouldn't be if this hadn't happened to him. It was... kinda shitty, but hey, people knew his name now. They'd REALLY know his name when he splits Danya down the middle, groin to gullet, in that order.

To be honest though, this island had a nice aesthetic to it. You could do some kickass I am Legend movie here. It wasn't a desert, so you couldn't do Mad Max, but shit, something like The Road or The Stand wouldn't be too out of place. Maybe Escape from Shitfuck SOTF Terrorist Island or something like that, give Mike an eyepatch, he'll fit right in.

Michael walked inside the garage, and announced his big entrance.

"Eeeeey! Where dah' welcomin' pahty at!"

Michael stood still, arms outstretched for a good ten seconds. When he realized he wouldn't find Jonathan, or well anyone here, he muttered under his breath.

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70's Horror Movies · Vehicle Depot