"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: The Wicked Die Alone
Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
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((Maxim Kehlenbrink continues from Another Story Must Begin))

"In an...I think I should say interesting decision Junko Kurosawa attacked Jeremy Frasier for 'giving up'. You can insert your own finger quotes as needed. Ironically, this awakened Jeremy's desire to survive and he shot her in the chest to do so. Well done Miss Kurosawa, that worked out well for you."

The events of yesterday morning made even less sense than they had back then. But it was of no matter. The only thing left of Junko Maxim had to concern himself with was the hammer nestled in his waistband, and how he was possibly going to use it if it came down to it.

It was those kinds of thoughts that prevented Maxim's mind from circling back to the things that made him sick. He needed to spend more time planning and concerning himself with logistics and playing out impossible scenarios in his head. He needed to plot what would happen if somebody were to trap him on these docks and his life depended on the tiny hammer. He needed to figure out if he could ward off such a thing from occurring in the first place if he just put aside his ridiculous principles and got that stupid bow out. He needed to plan out the conversation days ahead of himself if he were to run into Kimiko Kao and he finally asked why she had killed his best friend. Anything else aside from the fantastical stories playing out in his head and Maxim became ill, light-headed, and at this point he could no longer afford to do that.

Most of these scenarios envisioned Maxim trapped by himself in a dark room, waiting as the days go by, and if today had been another day it probably would have been the case. But as he was making his way from the hospital to the storehouse, he was drawn away by something in the distance.

A tall plume of smoke, originating from the island he was currently standing on, was towering over them all from the other side of the island. Maxim could...vaguely recall that part of the facility being declared a danger zone before he went to sleep last night, but he wasn't sure of the specifics. Now, he guess he knew. Someone was especially responsible today.

So there he sat, on the edge of the dock, as the smoke rose higher and higher into the sky. Maxim's head rest on the dock post, bag to his side, as a library burned. An unknown body lay behind him, his useful belongings sitting alongside his own.

All he could do right now was hope neither Benjamin nor Lili were in there.
I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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The Wicked Die Alone · Docks