"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Viewing Single Post From: 70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre
ToxieTheToxicAvenger
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"Yeah. It ain't just gonna be the final blow though, she's got forty more whacks to the head before I'll be close to done."

Nancy fucked EVERYTHING up. This shit he's in is all her fault. Fuck her. She wants to be famous? Wants the world to recognize her face? Nah, it's only fair he smear it across the dirt, leave nothing recognizable. She was gonna eat shit.

Maria had people she wanted to find, and it was only fair that Michael would help her find them. Hell, they might even be up for joining their group, bringing justice back to the world. She'd asked about his friends. Darius was a maybe, provided he wasn't drunk as fuck and about to pass out, but Jon? He felt odd... He'd be fine with telling everyone else his plan, but there's a hesitation about telling Jonathan. What was he afraid of? Maybe...

Maybe he feared he'd get Jon hurt. That one of the freaks would murder him... That'd it be his fault, like Jerry.

"I... I uhhh, well, I don't kno- Hold up..."

Michael moved past Maria and started walking to the new shape. He laid his axe on his shoulder as he swaggered over to him. Recognition was near instant. Michael's dour disposition changed into a mocking grin. Small world huh? Ain't that a bitch...

"Eeeeyyy Allison!"

It was lil' pissbaby Al. The same Al that almost got him shot by the mall goth Who from Whoville.

"Yo; you mind tellin' us about that shitstorm at the chapel, figure I kinda' deserve an explanation for savin' your ass, don'tcha think?"

Something was wrong. Really fuckin' wrong. Wait... Hold up- wait a minute. Give it a sec... oh.

Oh...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH-

"Yo; where'd that pickaxe go? Also-"

Michael snapped his fingers and pointed at Al's arms and shirt.

"You got red on ya', an I know it ain't yours..."

The arm holding the axe lowered, an audible clank was heard as the head smacked the ground; Michael's grip tightening along the handle. His posture became much more tense, much more threatening. His face kept that same goofy ass smirk.

"Ten seconds to talk buddy, better start spittin'."
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