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Trained for combat by a cabal of hacktivists.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((G123, Alison Walworth.))

Alison trudged through the forest, daypack on her back, map in her good hand and her right shoulder throbbing like hell. She'd guessed that when they dropped her out of the planes, helicopters, flying saucers or however they got them on there, somewhere along the line she'd landed awkward and was certainly paying for it now.

She took a couple of deep breaths and stopped to take a look at her map, struggling to unfold it with her good hand. When it came to the forest, it was about as useful as a five-year-old's finger painting for finding her way around. Allie sighed, refolded it and stuck it in the pocket of her jeans, squashing it in the narrow gap between the fabric, her inhaler and the actually pretty convenient epipen she was given as part of her 'weapon'.

She took her hand out of her pocket, put it up to her injured shoulder and tried to push her arm up. She remembered being told you should do that for something to do with your shoulder, but Allie couldn't remember what. Nevertheless, it didn't work, and only made her shoulder hurt more.

She heard something and turned her head. Someone's voice. Some girl's... No one's she could remember, but she didn't really remember anyone's voice any more. Allie moved in the vague direction of the voice she heard, pushing past branches, stepping over tangles of roots from the trees and crushing unheard of numbers of leaves underfoot. She didn't particularly care, at this point, who the voice was, or what their intentions were. She just desperately wanted to meet someone else, to know that there were other people on the island and she just hadn't been sucked out of a plane flying overhead or something.

Allie, even you know that's stupid.

She sighed and pushed her way through a final bush. She looked around, stepping forwards a couple of steps before almost walking straight into a fallen log. On the other side was a girl, lying down.

Is she... Is she dead?

Allie walked around the log and looked over. Her chest was rising, so that pretty much ruled out her being dead. Alison had no real clue what to do until she blurted out a surprisingly cheery sounding "Hey. Are you okay?"

She wasn't really expecting a response.
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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When the Bite Just Isn't Sharp Enough · The Woods: Inland