"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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((Craig Hoyle continued from Laurel and Hardy Got NOTHIN' on Us))

It was only when Craig had organized the majority of this things before Trent had really even gotten underway that he realized he hadn't brought a whole lot. Socks, underwear, a couple pair of denim shorts, and a few XXXL tees were supposed to be enough for the boy. Now he found himself wishing he had brought the Gem of Cyttorak, or Captain America's shield, or maybe Squirrel Girl's bullshit ability to win a situation off-screen when she obviously should not have. That one would be really worth it right about now. The only acceptable substitue for the time being would have to be twin package of ring-dings.

He hated to be a stereotypical fat kid right about now, but with that first bite of chocolate-and-cream-filling goodness, Craig knew for sure that being such a stereotype never tasted so good.

The sugar was definitely welcomed to his body, which had been acting up all day the day before, starting after those stupid announcements. There was football pain, the stinging agony of taking a hit or running drills (a practice which Craig decided must have been designed for some sort of super-human athlete, possibly a being of Krypton), and then there was the strike that the worker's unions, comprised of his muscles, formed. His arms, his legs, his neck, his back... if there was a body part with a name Craig could pronounce, it was probably hurting right about now. Made sense, too; once Trent unzipped his daypack to find that it was a freaking club (Craig had seen a weapon of that style somewhere before, but the name was on the tip of his tongue), Craig realized he was carrying his own body weight, Trent, a club, and all of their other possessions. Sure, it was only a short distance, probably less than 50 yards, max, but STILL.

Craig was big, technically even a giant, but he had learned the hard way that he was not strong. He learned this time and time again, but that didn't stop some from seeing him as some sort of behemoth. That was fine to him, though. Craig liked feeling powerful, as that made him feel useful, and feeling useful was always a good thing. The dissonance here, however, was outstanding: the two boys were in an urban-ish area that was the closest thing to their own world, practically feeling at home and safe in the enclosure, but the applications of Craig's philosphy had to be completely changed in order to fit a world which may have appeared similar, and yet couldn't be further from the real thing. His supposed power used to make him feel needed, but now it would be a survival mechanism. If he and Trent wanted to survive, he'd have to make himself one of the scariest motherfuckers on the planet.

Yeah, in short, they were pretty much doomed.

There may have been an ace-in-the-hole sitting on the fountain next to Craig, though, in the form of the Claymore land mine that had been assigned as his weapon. Not gun, nor knife nor bat, but an explosive. An INDIRECT explosive, at that. In a pinch, Trent and Craig could hole up somewhere, and he could place the mine at the entrance. He couldn't kill anybody, no, that just wouldn't happen, but he could still defend himself, and that little, innocent-looking little box on the fountain's edge could be a get-out-of-maiming-free card for them. Speaking of Trent, Craig looked to him as he chomped on the confectionary cakes. The other boy was seemingly holding up well, which Craig was grateful for. Luckily, he hadn't seemed like a weakling to Trent yet, since Craig still wasn't sure how things would fare if he began to fall behind.

An adjustment to his collar was needed, and gingerly performed, after Craig finished snacking on his cake. Yeah, life for the moment was pretty good as long as he could hold on to the positive things in life. And then...

The loudspeaker sounded.

After the initial screeching was done burning a hole in Craig's eardrum, the football player uncovered his ears to listen to the overly-cheerful man, with that unique and sinister but... also sort of charismatic and endearing voice (all he could think about at this time was Hades from Hercules; the two sounded nothing alike, but shared similar qualities of villainy and likability). There was nothing likable about his message, however.

So, more of their fellow classmates had died. All the killers must have either been terrible people, or there were more unforunate circumstances occuring on this island than reality would often allow. The second one being rather... unrealistic, Craig's mind awakened with a shiver, having the realization that his faith in his classmates may have be-

Wait... Reiko? Reiko Ishida? Killing FOUR PEOPLE!?

"No.... no, fucking impossible!" Craig moaned in the same way he would have if he found out some loser like Brett Favre was brought to his beloved Minnesota Vikings. "This is a mistake... this is a mistake, it's Reiko!" Reiko was such a beautiful girl, perky and innocent in her own little way... oh, right, and little. She was a midget compared to himself. The girl was built in such a way that, even if provoked, the most she was likely to do was throw a fit or maybe get into a small catfight! Had the island really made a murderer out of her?

"No..."

Craig sought for a different path. One that had Reiko attacked by numerous people. Maybe she had the means to defend herself, with a gun or something, and in her fear, had to fend off the likes of Kevin and such. He had already forgotten some of the names of lives that Reiko was credited to ending from the previous day (his mind seemed to be a bit 'off' the last time around, or he would've remembered Reiko being called), and had basically missed the ones from this announcement entirely. The only name that mattered was Reiko's now, though. The boy slid off of the stone edge he was sitting on and leaned back until his back struck the wall, a few portions of stone creaking in time with some more clicking and cracking of the pebbles and gravel displaced by his titanic ass. For all that had happened, there had to be a reason. Even so, any explanation that painted Reiko as innocent still depicted at least four of Craig's classmates as evil.

Villains.
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