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Trained for combat by a cabal of hacktivists.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Wait, when the hell did I give permission to change post order?))

"Hey, you okay?" Dave said. The emo chick was... humming? "That a song?"

The emo chick started laughing like crazy. Insane crazy. Not the good, Gnarls Barkley, badass music crazy. For Dave, it was more the, get some distance between you two before she tries to ram the nunchucks up your ass crazy. And that definitely wasn't on his plans.

Well, that answers my question.

Dave took a couple more steps back for good measure, his back pressing against a mirror. The emo chick stopped laughing, grinding her knuckles into her eyes, crying like mad and reciting some more godawful poetry. Any fear Dave had for her vanished as soon as he'd heard the poetry, or at least that's what he thought it was. It definitely wasn't self-help tips, that was for sure.

"God, you're depressing the hell out of me." Dave was convinced now she was putting this on. "You almost make me want to cut my wrists."

Suddenly, Dave heard a trumpet note along with the distinct sound of someone running.

Oh great, we got a Texas Trumpet Massacre. Just my frigging luck.

Dave turned and saw a frigging huge figure approaching. Dave shone his torch towards him, looking up and seeing a somewhat familiar face. He'd been in a couple classes with him, but couldn't quite attach a name to him.

"Shit, Roland?" He asked, just expecting to be corrected if he'd gotten it wrong. "It's Roland, right?"

Then, suddenly, the emo chick snapped. She dropped her bags and linked up her nunchucks, before turning her attention to Dave.

Oh shit.

"Bitch!" Dave yelled, as the emo chick screamed something and tried to shove him through the mirror or some shit. "Get the fuck offa me!"

The emo chick launched herself at Roland, stick raised in the air and shrieking like a banshee. Dave had no damn idea what was going through her head at that moment, but he really didn't like her chances against a guy the size of a coke machine.

"The fuck are you doing?" He yelled, turning away from the imminent sword impalement that was gonna occur, seeing a girl just staring at what was going on.

"Well," He said, hand still in his pocket. "I'd definitely stay outta this one."
B035 - Ray Gilbert - DECEASED - Guy Fawkes Mask - Too Far Gone
G029 - Zoe Leverett - DECEASED - Machete - To Really Be Alone, To Pick At All the Bones
[18:10] <Laurels> WWJD? Fuck corpses, apparently

[15:16] <Naft> My college once nearly burned down because someone tried to make a bong out of dollar bills and the fire alarm didn't work
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Mirror Mirror · Hall of Mirrors