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Viewing Single Post From: One of Three
MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Craig had finally managed to lumber all the way to the strange building, but things still weren't right. Maybe it was because he couldn't find a door, or maybe it was the whole 'the world is still spinning deal'. Oh yeah, it was spinning, and spinning something fierce. The overweight boy teetered to the left and to the right before directing his heft over to the wall. He intended to lean on an outretched arm, but his quivering limb couldn't hold even standing weight, and his shoulder crashed into the wooden structure.

"Ugh..." Craig moaned, turning himself so his back was resting square against the buidling. The world still seemed to want to spin and blur like a bad piece of modern art (he never really was a fan of that). To combat the swirling, Giygas-esque trip, Craig simply closed his eyes.

Wait... if you do that, then you can't see the people that are here with you.

You know. The kids trying to kill you.


Craig's eyes shot open. Of course something was wrong, this wasn't home! This definitely wasn't St. Paul, and it probably wasn't even Minnesota! Those men... those men had... oh man, Stan Lee couldn't come up with ANYTHING as fucked up as this!

Craig might have voice those words aloud just to hear himself talk, but once he opened his mouth, he felt the tell-tale bump in his throat. Instinct forced him to turn his side from the building and use the wall as suppport as he puked all over the ground. The initial stream of vomit was pumped out with enough force to at least not get all over himself. As it began to slow down, Craig tilted his head out a bit more, gagging. The goopy, smelly substance had formed a small puddle at Craig's feet, luckily having missed the daypack he had dropped just a short ways away.

The show hadn't quite reached its dryheaving finale, however, and this was something Craig had to learn the hard way. Just when he was about to lift his head back up, he was forced back into leaning over, squeezing out a smaller stream of vomit. His throat then locked up a few times in a series of painful spasms until his belly decided that it was empty enough, and the boy was allowed to stand.

Ooooh man... seen better days, that's for sure. So... so this is seriously it, huh? That meeting... Craig tried to look around, and was happy to see that the world was more receptive to being gazed at. He reached out and down to try and snatch up his daypack, averting his eyes from the gross, lumpy and orange pile of sludge on the ground (what the hell did he eat?). It was still sort of heavy, and despite his massive size, Craig sucked at that... but at least most of the wooziness wore off. Leaning into the wall to sling the pack onto his shoulder, Craig was about to try and look for a way in when his ear, pressed clear to the wall, received something.

A voice? It was really difficult to make out, but... a female voice.
Craig stayed put, listening to it, and only it.
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One of Three · The Ranger Station