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(( Michael Crowe continued from Hang in There))

Michael had a lot of conflicting thoughts. Number one, was 'what in the hell' was he really doing? What was he trying to prove? For the last three days, he hadn't thought about anything. Just doing. Was this for Jerry, or for himself? Was this some excuse to show he wasn't scared, that he didn't care; That he was still on top, still in control? That he was right? It never mattered to Michael if someone thought he was wrong, but he did take note of it. If one person says you're wrong, then you tell him to fuck off. But if ten people tell you it, you might have to think about it a bit, right? Were they any better? After all, the same people tellin' him he's wrong are the same people who'd grab popcorn and a lawn chair if their buddy was getting mauled by a bear instead of doing anything about it.

Second, why him? Why'd his class get picked. Why do we have to go through this shitstorm? Why not some fuckin' bigshot 400 people school on the other side of the states? Why'd they choose us? All that time, all that effort. How much were they spending on this? Hell, how many times has this fuckin' happened, it's ridiculous. They had to run out of islands eventually. Jesus, and you'd think by now whoever owned this shithole would speak up. Durr, yea' we abandoned an island, a lot like this one actually, same bell tower, same asylum and everything, but we don't know if it's ours, hyuk hyuk. Maybe the government knew, maybe they're using this for anti-terrorist funding or some shit. Maybe he's just thinking into it too much, like Tessa Tinfoil.

Third, where in the fuck were these cans coming from! Michael kicked one of them down the hallway, watching it bounce along the wall before rolling away. Why were there so many in a trail? Did it lead to a trap, does someone need help. Michael knew he told Audrey he'd let Darwin do the work for him, but... Maybe that change of tactic, maybe it was just switching his priorities? Save a life, rather than take one? What the hell... Not like he was good at either, but maybe, maybe it was worth a shot.

Michael was too optimistic though. He knew what it probably was. Follow the candy to the white van. Never get seen again. The trail of cans lead him to a shithole he'd never thought he'd return to. Michael tilted his head away before moving down the stairwell. Maybe. Maybe this was Nancy planning it? That's what she's doing for fame now?

Fate seemed to fuck him through every corner. Every ally he meets, he loses. Every chance of success he gets, he loses. Maybe fate was telling him to turn around. Maybe that's what he should do. Turn around. Find Jonathan, or Darius, or anyone. Give up. Make the best of it. This might be his last chance to do it. Do it.

Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes?

Maybe, just maybe, if he stuck to it, his luck would turn around. Something would go right, right? Powers that be! Grant me some good shit for once! Please!

Michael made his way down the stairs, he saw a shape. A familiar shape. Wasn't Nancy. Wasn't Alessio.

Well... worth a shot right? Worse case scenario, this is the last mistake he makes. Fitting end. Family mourns for about a month, they get over it. Jon mourns for the rest of the time on his island, he'll get over it. Nobody else gives a shit.

Michael crouched low. Jeremy wasn't with him now. What'd he do, gut him for his gun? Wouldn't surprise him one bit. A little 'told ya' so' if that was the case. This time he wasn't gonna go into theatrics, no screaming, none of that shit. Sneak and gut.

But could he do it? For all his talk he did a bad job of even finishing off a kid in a straight jacket. Shoulda' known though. If he could've brought himself to do it, the whole bell tower thing wouldn't have happened would it? Just a whack and leave. Explain it was for the greater good, be blissfully unaware that your partner never really gave a shit about your ideology. Move on.

Michael stayed low, slowly inching his way towards Alex. It was time to see if he could actually do what he promised Jerry. It was time to see what he was capable of. It was time to nut up, or shut up.
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Lord of Lunatics · Water Treatment