"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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Sister Grimm
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I am a great biotic wind that will sweep all before me like a... a great wind! A great biotic wind!
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((Micheal Raynor continued from When the Bite Just Isn't Sharp Enough ))

"This sucks." Micheal muttered to himself as he trudged along the shore with no location in mind. "This really, really really sucks." It might not have been so bad if he'd decided to go with Sofia. Maybe he wouldn't be finding Mady, but at least he'd have someone watching his back. It wasn't that bad, not with the claws sitting pretty in his bag, but it sure didn't help his paranoia. Instead of making his way along the island with a partner, he was wandering along. Probably a prime target for anyone with a decent weapon, too. Someone with a gun, hell, someone with a bat. The claws wouldn't be much good if he came up against someone who actually knew what they were doing. Still, it was a confidence booster. At least he had something.

It was lonely, tense night, he could tell you that. He didn't know where he was going either, so most of the day was spent wandering aimlessly. By the time night fell, it seemed like he'd crossed the whole damn island three times. His forehead was covered by a constant sheen of sweat and he seemed to be constantly out of breath. The question of the day? 'Why the hell did I come along on this trip?' That was never far from his thoughts and he couldn't for the life of him come up with a good reason. What was he thinking when he got on the bus?

Didn't matter now, he guessed. He was here and he probably wouldn't be going home. That was all there was too it. All he could do was try and keep going as long as he could. It could be like Horde mode, minus the chainsaw assault rifles. Geez, he hoped it was minus chainsaw assault rifles. If some jock loser had a freakin' Lancer, he was calling bullshit. If he saw someone coming at him with a Lancer, he was going home.

Micheal stopped short, cutting out in mid-step. Was that a person further down the beach? It sure looked like a person. A person who might potentially cut him in half with a chainsaw. Wait, no, not the chainsaw, but they could have some sort of weapon. But that wasn't fair. Everyone would have some form of weapon. As he drew ever closer, she looked to be crying, so that was...better? At least she wasn't giggling and talking to herself, right? That was a little comforting. He stopped a few feet away from the girl, moving carefully and, hopefully, silently.

"Uh, hey? Hi, how are you doing? Not crazy or anything, right? I mean, if you are, that's cool. But, you know, I'd be fine with you being normal and not blood-thirsty. That would totally be cool with me. But, uh, you okay? You hurt or something? I think I have a medkit or something, but apparently they don't heal you instantly here, despite this all seeming like a video game, am I right?" Micheal didn't wait for a chance for the joke to miss, so instead he held up his hands to show he didn't mean any harm. "Joke. Totally a joke. Uh, I'm Micheal, if you're not crazy. If you are, I'm...someone else."
"There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass" -Terry Pratchett, The Truth

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I Swear I Won't Shoot · The Beach: North