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((Matt Moradi continued from Islands Suck.. GMing approved, too.))

Yesterday had been a shit day of all shit days. He had left the relative safety of the group he had abandoned Bart to, for one - a stupid choice, one that was probably going to result in his death. He'd gone over the endless scenarios in his brain. Knife in the back. Bullet to the brain. Beaten to death by some football player. Jerry - protection, really - was dead. On top of all that - Ben was dead. Ben Fields. Matt felt his heart stop for a moment when he heard Ben's name on the announcements. Ben, dead. Sure, he hadn't known him for long. Only a few days.

Only a few days. That was how long he'd known him.

Matt didn't feel all that bad, really, and that was the worst part.

Ben was dead, sure, that was sad. He knew him for a couple of days, they hung out in a closet together, plotted to band together and kill a bunch of assholes who were murdering a bunch of people.. it all amounted to nothing when they were faced with Asshole #1, of course. Alvaro. Dead too. He didn't care much about him, either. Competition.

It was cold that morning. He could only guess where this fucking island was - definitely nowhere near the equator, it was the middle of May and it was cold, somehow - his best guess was somewhere in northern Canada. Maybe in Hudson Bay, or something, that could be too far north.

In short, Matt was a long way from Arizona.

He wasn't a long way from Wade Cartwright. Matt didn't known Wade all too well, and he was about to make a fairly poor first impression on him. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about this. About when he was going to do it. He never thought about it directly - another facet of his cowardly nature, which he'd learned about in the past few days and come to accept - but he was about to do it all the same.

He was going for the bush. Perfect. It was perfect.

Matt gripped his pipe tighter. He was behind the boulder. He'd never get a better opportunity than right now. The pipe was bent out of shape, sure, but it was blunt. Heavy. It could still knock someone out if he hit them hard enough. He was really hoping that Wade would just get knocked out from the first blow and he wouldn't have to scream or struggle or anything like that, but that was just another hopeless fantasy of his.

He stepped out from behind the boulder, unsure. The split second fantasy of Wade turning around and pulling out a gun drove him forward. Wanting to win is what bashed the pipe over Wade's shoulder, missing his head by a long shot.
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Prey Empathy · The Warehouse