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Viewing Single Post From: All That I've Ever Known
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Internet de geso~
[ *  * ]
((B124, Joe Rios, start.))

Joe woke up in a rather uncomfortable position, splayed out on the ground as if someone had haphazardly thrown him there. Considering what had just happened on the bus, that was most likely what happened.

God damn it all to hell. This isn't very good, Joe thought to himself, understating things just a tad.

He looked around in an attempt to process his surroundings. He was at a sawmill; other kids were waking up nearby. A couple of them were already talking to each other. He wasn't sure specifically where the sawmill was, but he knew it was on an island; Survival of the Fittest was always on an island. He never really watched the show, as gore wasn't exactly his thing (particularly not real gore), but he knew how it worked. Kill or be killed.

In addition, he had a daypack next to him. A very strange looking (and large) daypack.

At least I can trust Rose... wait. Joe, previously deep in thought, opened his eyes wide. Where the fuck is Rose? Joe, previously serene (if a bit shocked), became worried. However, he calmed down somewhat quickly.

I'll look for her after I get things sorted out here. Let's see what's in this daypack, Joe pondered in his head as he opened the large bag. In it he found rations, a flashlight, a first aid kit, a handbook apparently written by Danya himself, a map, a compass, his travel bag, and...

"Is that a fucking scythe? Seriously?" Joe muttered to himself.

He unzipped his travel bag and started rummaging around in it to see if anything was missing.

"Clothes? Check. Could probably throw those out, since I'm not gonna have much time to change anywhere, but whatever. Sandwiches? Check, other than the one I ate on the bus before they fucking gassed everyone. Six-pack of Coca-Cola? Check. Not as if it would be any good without a fridge anyways, don't know why I brought that actually. Pocket knife? Not here, unsurprisingly. Saw that coming a mile away; hell, I'm surprised it didn't get taken before I got on the bus. iPod? Oh, hell yes. Thank you, kidnappers. Notebook, pack of pens, both check, not sure why I'd need them anyways," Joe continued muttering. As he finished, he rubbed his shoulder and sighed.

"This is gonna suck," the Latino muttered to himself. He quickly zipped his travel bag up, stuffed the things he had removed back in his daypack, zipped that up, and sat up straight. He stretched his arms upwards and yawned loudly; his gas-induced sleep had not been very restful at all, particularly since a fair portion of it had been spent on his back on rough ground. He then coughed a couple times.

Fucking sawdust. Still not gonna get over the gassing easily. Seriously, these guys must be trying to seem like a Bond villain group or something, Joe thought to himself, as he often did.

"Yeah, this is definitely gonna suck," Joe muttered to himself.
Edited by Sean, Aug 1 2011, 10:13 PM.
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Quoth Super Llama:
One day, the fabled Ragnarok will come, and as the gods descend to earth and wage war while the world dies around them, WickedIcon will lead the charge, a 12-gauge shotgun in his right hand, and a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left as he rides a steed made of fire and pain.

And the masses will look upon him and weep at the beauty of it all.

[19:25] Hallucinogenic: it's not like i wanna put my anus on parade

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All That I've Ever Known · The Sawmill