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"Speak up motherfucker! You ain't sorry! You ain't done until you're dead you shit! Why shouldn't I just drop you now!"

It was a trifecta of fuckery. All because dumbass Audrey had to open her mouth, suddenly he was the bad guy. Y'know, the guy who didn't murder in cold blood.

Michael tried his best to ignore all of it. Then Maria up and left.

Y'know what?

Fuck this.

Michael hoisted Al over the edge then threw him back into the bell tower. They want him alive that bad. Fine. Here he is.

Fine. Fuck 'em. Fuck Maria, fuck Audrey, fuck Alessio. Fuck 'em all.

"Aight Audrey. You can keep it. Michael spit on Alessio while he laid there. "But don't come to me cryin' or bitchin' when he kills all your buddies. I won't do shit. They all died because of idiots like you anyways. Fuckin' apathetic shit-heels. Call me whatever the fuck you want. 'Least I tried to do something besides sit around bitchin' and moanin'. All you cowards wanna do is hole up in a corner with your eyes closed and hope it goes away. Save your high horse, I don't give a fuck what you have to say to me, and I have nothin' left to say to you, neither. I'm done. I don't know who's worse, the killers, or the idiots suckin' their dicks..."

Michael shouldered past Audrey as he moved towards the stairs. From this point on he wasn't doing this vigilante shit. From now on, he's lookin' out for Numero uno. Him and his friends. Let the other retards worship the ones cuttin' 'em up. At this point they all deserved it anyways, they should've known what was up by now anyways.

Hell, maybe he was in the wrong. Maybe it was best to use what time he had left to spend with his friends. Make his peace. Try his best to defend them. Maybe taking the attack to the players wasn't the right way to do it. Maybe the best thing he could do was defend people? Maybe... Maybe he had it all wrong.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and from this angle it was clear why Barry's corpse had disturbed him besides the obvious.

That shirt. It was Jonathan's. He moved in closer to look at it.

Was it? It was! What was it doing there? Was he with Barry? What happened to him?

Thoughts of what could have happened to Jonathan filled his mind. Thoughts of Larkin's death, Bradley's name on announcements, the corpses in the basement, Alex... People like that running around. How could he defend someone he couldn't even find. Maybe...

Who else was actually trying to do anything? Oh yeah, right. Nobody else gave a rat's ass. Who'd he have left? Jonathan and Darius. Where were they? If someone got to them, then what would he have left? The chances of seeing them ever again were slim if nil. All of that talk about living to the best? It probably wouldn't happen. Someone would just ruin it like they always do. He didn't have a chance in hell for anything to go right for him anyways. It always went wrong. Might as well right the few wrongs he can in the meantime, right?

Fuck it. He was never a quitter. He just needed a change in tactics. No more theatrics, no more words. No more talk. Talk don't get shit done. Actions do. He was fed the fuck up.

He won't be bargained with. He won't be reasoned with; and he absolutely will not stop, ever, until those freaks are all dead.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere))
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Hang in There · The Bell Tower