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Viewing Single Post From: Sometimes Sanctuary isn't that Far Away...
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N-Nopony! Ah was talkin' to nopony whatsoever!
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((Chadd Crossen continued from Rest and Relaxation.))

Chadd had gotten insanely lost. The entirety of the past twelve hours were a blank, and he had no recollection of how he had landed face down on a group of wooden planks. Little did he know that the drugs used in the knocking out of the kidnapped class had reacted extremely poorly in his system; and even during the events the night prior he was still under the effects. Dreams and reality had merged, and with what little reality he understood, those dreams were nightmares. The ten hours he spent running in circles, freaking out at every shadow during the day; and at every single flicker of light at night. Some of the more common quotes from the evening in stonerville were "OH SHIT A DEMON" and "Oh dear fuck, what was that?!?" at absolutely nothing.

However that was then (and lost in the labyrinth of Chadd's mind), and this was now. And now, he was face first in a grungy bench; somewhere else inside of the residential area.. And as he pushed himself to his rear, he saw water. Water, as far as the eye can see. The sleepers not yet out of his eyes; everything was fuzzy and out of focus. So a pair of weary hands reached up to wipe them, a yawn forcing itself from the boy's mouth. And then back onto his ass he went. While he didn't remember the events of the night prior, he remembered the feelings. Fear, and paranoia were the flavors of the day. And this entire thing felt so much more relaxed. There was just something about the waves lapping up onto the stone barricade that surrounded the town that was so calming; so natural. Even though there was absolutely nothing natural about this hellish island.

And so he sat.

And he waited.

The watch on his wrist passed a full hour at least as he was sitting in this location.

And then there was a crackle, almost seeming to emanate from the town itself; as if this particular place of residence had a mind of it's own. A group of scavenging seagulls flew away in the loudest and least ceremonious fashion possible as Mr. Danya interrupted their breakfast.

And as he sat, in yet another stupor, his blood almost boiled.

This fuck wasn't just in this to get at the American government. This fucker was getting off to all of his classmates dying.

God. Fucking. Damn. It.

The boy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and began scribbling down names. One page for those who had died, and one page for those who had killed. The first page tallied 19, while the second tallied only to 10. Ten of his classmates were killing. Quite a few names he recognized, and only one or two of the players themselves really surprised him. No one he was all that personally vested in found their way into the announcements though; no real surprise. Most of his friends went to other high schools in the area.

And then the actual important bits, the danger zones. And he mumbled them back as he recorded them. "The Lighthouse... The Groundskeeper's Hut... And the Greens... Alright. That helps so much, I have no fucking idea what the last two are." He shook his head in utter disgust.

For now, Chadd just wanted to be alone. And he received his wish; for a time at least. Forty five minutes of thought, relaxation, and rest.

God damn it I needed this.

The boy rolled back into a seated position on the bench after this bit of rest and really looked through his day-pack for the first time. He was famished... And mildly annoyed at what he found. There were only a couple of bottles of water present, as well as a loaf of bread. Fantastic. Either way he bit into one of the loaves, savoring the feeling of the hunger being staved off as the soft food hit his stomach. The bottle of water cracked open; and try as he might to stop himself, he still downed the entire bottle.

Fuck. I need to ration this shit better.

Taking a deep breath and setting the empty bottle back in his bag, he began to rifle through. A map and compass, a first aid kit, a tazer, more wate- A tazer?

His weapon pull had been a tazer? Fucking. Sweet. At least it was something he could use.

Glancing around quickly, he began to pack everything but the weapon back into the bag, and zipped it up tight. God only knows when he would have to move.
Coming soon to a deathmatch near you:
Garry Brooks - Swave Countryboy
Jade Aurora - Tomboy Drummer
Jasmine Tolle - Pacifistiic Artist

Memories of those past:
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What is wrong with you people?!
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Sometimes Sanctuary isn't that Far Away... · Northern Cliffs