"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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The words coming from inside the building were too faint to actually discern, but they were there, that was for sure. As unpleasant as his session of solid, technicolor yawning had just been, it did at least serve one positive function (besides possibly repelling those who dared come near), and Craig was rapidly becoming aware of it. In fact, it was his alertness itself that he could credit to his puking, since hurling your guts out does wonders to wake somebody up. He gave a quick look to the orange-ish puddle before deciding that staring at it too long could make him gag (and it smelled raunchy to boot), so Craig leveled his head once more, leaning himself against the building.

The voices were a reminder of the life that was on the island. In a certain way, this really was as though his class was on a field trip. A very, very dark field trip, but he hadn't seen any violence yet. Craig had faith in his classmates; they made fun of people, sure, and they had heckled him a lot. They could do some pretty low things. However, even understanding all of this, he just couldn't see any one of them killing another, because that's just not something kids do. It's something supervillains do, it's stuff that even a few of the nuttier superheroes do, but generally not kids. He knew he couldn't do it... he just knew.

Seeing as he hadn't encounted a single concious student yet, Craig decided that he'd have to figure out a way to enter the 'house' that he was leaning against and converse with whoever was inside. He was sure they weren't playing, maybe they were chatting it up and discussing survival! Yeah, sounded pretty cool! But the door wasn't on this side, so he'd have to walk around and find it. With his alertness and ability to think coherently once more, however, Craig was stuck with the recurring memories of what had happened not so long ago...

He had to repress it for now. Craig may not have been the sharpest set of cleats on the field, but he was always able to either shrug little things off or, in the event of trauma that was far too deep to just ignore, he could soak it up and keep it deep inside. If he wanted to have any chance of keeping it together and not imagining a bunch of little yellow text boxes whenever he thought (if that happened, there was a definite problem), Craig would have to do what JJ Sturn taught him to do so well during football practice: Suck it up.

"Suck it up, Hoyle!"

"SUCK IT UP!"


Craig winced when he imagined his captain barking at him so... so vividly. He pulled his ear away from the cabin to go searching for the door when the crunches of feet on dirt alerted him to somebody coming towards the building from the same way Craig had just come from. The large boy turned to put his back against the exterior wall of the cabin, seeing... Trent!

Well, damn, he had nearly forgotten about him!

"Hey, bud... you have a nice nap?" Craig said, still slurring his speech a little. His mind was awake, but his mouth had yet to catch up.
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One of Three · The Ranger Station