"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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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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He had let go, so the desired effect had been achieved. Jerry lifted his head to get it free from the flowing tide... and earned a punch to the temple for his troubles, sending the back of his skull snapping back down to the sand where it bounced, smooshing more dirt into the curls of his hair.

He scrambled on the backs of his elbows, kicking in order to create space and drive himself back, though a spare panicked shot at Trav's shins wouldn't hurt. He curled upward, trying to get his legs back under him. Apparently, Trav wasn't having any of that either, because another shot caught Jerry dangerously close to the temple.

He let out a pained whimper. He couldn't scream anymore -- his trip across the island screaming the whole way pushed his throat to its limit. The struggle and the waves had stolen more air from him than he would care to admit. He couldn't breathe properly anymore. That's why his chances of beating Trav were next to nothing, because he had to go and start a fight over Noodle's stupid mistake. Noodle was wrong. She attacked him! Trav attacked him! He wasn't the one at fault!

"Stop, stop," Jerry babbled, trying to crawl on his hands and knees. He stood up and turned. Too slow to raise his hand.

Trav's elbow crashed flatly into Jerry's nose. There was a pop, a cold sting, and that plugged sensation that let him know the faucets would soon be rushing. He lurched to his feet as if on a delay, stumbling back with flailing arms before his feet could no longer keep up, flopping him across the shore like a soccer player in the world series. He couldn't beat Travis. As far as this being a fight, everything was over. If he didn't do something fast, NOW, he was dead.

Jerry felt the heavy weight in his left pocket and knew what he had to do.

Trav was already bearing down on him when the boy desperately clawed the handle of the gun from his pocket. Something had caught on the interior fabric of his pocket and there was no time to dislodge it, so he simply tugged as hard as he could to rip it wide and free his savior. The sight of the gun caused Trav to hesitate in his approach, but each of them knew that the pause was only temporary. Further delay, and Trav got shot. Further delay on Jerry's end, and he could have the gun wrestled away from him. Then it truly would be all over. Jerry opened one blurry eye and pulled the trigger.

It wouldn't budge.

The safety. The safety! Titballs, the safety!

"Waitwaitwait!" Jerry yelled, smashing two fingertips against the side of the gun. Trav wasn't too keen on waiting.

The trigger pulled twice. Each of those times, the gun did its job.
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