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((Christopher Carlson continued from Wakey wakey, sunshine...))

Chris felt like everything was in pain. His feet were throbbing, his bad leg had an ache that would give him a slight limp for at least an hour, and his lungs were burning.

The run from the burning forest alone was enough to leave him exhausted, and his fitful sleep did little to ease the pain. The long walk from the infirmary had also taken a toll on him, and he wanted nothing more than to rest.

As he finally reached the town, he slumped against the wall of a nearby building. Only then did he notice the grumbling in his stomach and the slight nausea of hunger; he hadn't eaten in a long time. He dug into his pack and pulled out a warm bottle of water and some bread. His throat was so dry that he almost coughed the bread back up, but a swig of water kept it down.

He polished off half the bread, then stuck the rest in his pack and started walking again, at an even slower pace. He rubbed his arm, where he still felt a slight burn from that fire. And then, he heard talking.

He stopped. He remembered exactly what happened last time he got involved with people; shit burned up.

So he crouched down behind the wall, his leg creaking and almost causing him to fall over onto his pack, and peeked around the corner.

It was a large group, and he counted about seven of them. Their body language didn't indicate animosity, so as far as he knew he wasn't about to get whacked in the face with a stray bullet. One of the girls, her shirt missing, happened to be unconscious. It didn't take long for him to recognize her black and blue haircut.


He was resisting the urge to run out there and see if the girl he just saved was okay, but it was hard. His protective urges were screaming at him to check up on her, but he didn't want to burn THIS place down too.

So, just like in the woods, he made a compromise: he shrugged his daypack off his shoulder and readied himself to jump out if there looked to be a threat, but stayed behind the wall, silently observing.

He let out a low chuckle. The events of the last time he made a "compromise" was still fresh in his mind. Was he really going to be that dumb and assume that he could keep making "compromises" with his actions? As if it made anything better. His last "compromise" didn't really change anything, did it? He still did exactly what he wanted to do: save the girl from the mean old killer. Then the woods catch on fire and an innocent girl blows up.

Fuck it.

Fuck it all.

He picked his pack back up and walked out, arms raised over his head in the general symbol for "surrender". If this was a book, English classes everywhere would be calling this a metaphorical surrender to my own urges over logic.

Fuck, maybe they're right?
Characters for v4

Christopher Carlson: B052
Weapons: Brass knuckles

Jake Crimson: B084 (Adopted)
Weapons: Cinderblock

Characters for v5

Clayton Leven: B050
Weapons: Handcuffs

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