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Hollyquin
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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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"FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKK!"

GARRETT HUNTER [B138] - ALIVE

Garrett yelled that one word to the sky, as though cursing whatever god had let him end here.

"Fucking...shit. Fuck. Fuck you, Danya. Fuck you, terrorist assholes. Fuck all of you. You're all dead, you fucking here me? DEAD."

The boy was pissed off as hell. Under the circumstances? Understandable.

Garrett had woken up in a field of destruction. Lots and lots of dead trees. Hundreds, in fact. His first thought, as his thoughts often were, was a Fight Club quote- "I want to destroy something beautiful." Apparently someone did. Not that he cared- environmentalism? Not his thing. But the question wasn't why the trees were gone- the question was why he was in a field of stumps. Why he wasn't on his bus, making plans with the rest of the Fight Club boys. They'd been planning on having a tournament on the first night- sneaking out of the cabins and having a real competition. Crazy fun. But none of them were here now, it seemed.

But then there was that...dream. No, it wasn't a dream. He'd been in that auditorium.

Seen the blood.

Heard the news.

Survival of the motherfuckin' Fittest.

Garrett growled. This was the worst. Fight Club with actual death. And guns. Fucking guns... Garrett did not like guns. He was a hand-to-hand sort of person. He flipped through the contents of the daypack that had been left for him and was decently happy to find a shinai inside. It wasn't anything he knew how to use- to him it was just a wooden sword- but at least it was a melee weapon. He'd figure out how to use it. More likely, if it came down to it, he'd just use his fists. He rifled through the other bag- his personal bag- and found that his brass knuckles, which he carried at all times just in case, were gone as well.

Fucking figures.

Garrett fingered the collar on his neck. The symbol of his oppression. His natural instinct was to pick at it, pull at it, find some fucking way to get the thing off. But he knew that was stupid. He'd watched Survival of the Fittest before. He tried anything, it'd blow his head off. He cursed again.

"Fuck. Danya, I know you're fucking watching this, and when I figure out how to get this thing off...I'm coming after you. Me and the rest of Fight Club."

With that, Garrett kicked his personal bag aside, slinging the daypack over his back, holding the shinai in his right hand. He began to walk. Presumably he'd find someone- his first priority was the find his boys.
being meguca is suffering

[V5] ALIVE:
[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

[V5] CONCEPTS:
Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

Those Who've Known - V4
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You're Gonna Go Far, Kid · The Felled Forest: South