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What was there to say? In the face of insurmountable horror and tragedy, what words could suffice? With his hilariously simplistic motive discarded, anything that could justify what had been done vanished. So what could he say?


There was simply nothing for him to say - he had played the game and, as a result, proved his own inhumanity. The choice was always his.

Matt Moradi stood up and bent down to pick up the gun.

Looking at Nate, Matt spoke quickly. He had the eyes of someone who was desperate. "It's too late for me." He swallowed.

"You need to get out of here.. off the island. Alright?" Slowly, he started to unsling his rifle. He placed it on the ground in front of him.

"I can't explain why I did this.. or why anyone else did. I guess I'm just a bad person." Slowly, he started to unbutton his flannel jacket.

"You're not.. I, uh, don't really know how you did it.. but I figure there's less than ten people left right now." He looked over to the camera.

"Somehow, you've managed to make it this far without killing anyone.. you remember the rules, though, right?" He finished unbuttoning his jacket and took it off, slowly.

"You have to kill someone.. take my gun. Just make sure it's in self defense." He took a step forward and held out his jacket.

"I want you to have this. It's pretty cold, and.. uh, well, I won't need it. I'm giving up."
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