"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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Tythanin
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Time to Spare
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'How did it come to this? Hah, well that's easy actually. I hit the prick in the head. That's how all this shit happened.' Michelle thought to herself, beginning to think that she maybe shouldn't have resorted to violence. That was always the problem with hindsight, but in the end, the whiner wasn't screaming his throat out and she could have some moments of peace. She still didn't regret it. Regrets were for people who wanted to stare in the past and right now she had to stare straight forward. Straight forward into the gun muzzle that was wavering in front of her. It was kind of ironic that she had been looking so hard for a gun to call her own and now two of them, two, were pointed at her right now.

She wondered what would happen if they shot. She'd die, of course, another hapless loser in the game that Danya had whipped up for them. The chick or the dude would get congratulated by Danya over the radio and he'd have a couple of chortles before life moved on. And that would be it. Her impact on the island would be hitting someone across the head and dying as a result of it. A sliver of fear wormed its way into her heart. She would die unknown, unloved, and be nothing more than a bullet point in the annals of history. She didn't want that. She wanted to be remembered for something. Isn't that why people existed? To do something with their life. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but dying here wasn't it.

She had been called unmotivated. She couldn't even begin to count the times she had heard her parents say that it was okay to get a C or B, just as long as it wasn't failing, it was okay. She remembered her teachers telling her that she could really be something...really be a top star at school if she just put more effort into her work instead of just slapdashing it together and turning it in late or at the last minute.

Well, that was it. She'd have to stop being lazy. Fear was a powerful motivator. There was fear for her life, of course, but it paled in comparison to the realization that she really could die here. She had hit Marty because it had been the laziest, the easiest, method of shutting him up. Quick, painless for her, and all it took was one simple swing. And look where it brought her. Near death with nothing to show for it besides repeated failures at trying to gain something for herself. It was time for this to stop.

It would take planning...planning many moves in advance, much like the chess players she had seen in when she had walked in one of the club rooms. She had to plan for the future, not just the present and that...that would take effort. Effort she wasn't normally used to giving and effort she had very little drive to commit to an endeavor that would most likely end in her death anyway. But as long as she could accomplish something, whether it be a kill, an escape, or even protecting someone's life, she'd be fine with dying.

And so, when everyone around her screamed at her to drop her weapon, she simply did. The crowbar clattered down onto the rocks and she kept her arms at her side, not daring to move. She breathed softly, calmly, ignoring the pounding in her chest. 'Would they really shoot if I hadn't dropped it? Who cares? Better start planning if I wanna get out of this alive. What to do first...well, find a way out of this mess. I'm not staying here for much longer, that's true. Unless I can find some way to persuade them but...'

"There, I dropped it. Are you still going to shoot?"
"Oh god dammit, I lost my sense of humor around here. Someone help me find it."

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Approved V5 Pre-Game Characters:

Faria Young - Generals of Elysium (The Waterfront)
Annabelle Summers - Where Is My Muse? (Lunch Room)

"And who the hell came up with this play?! "Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet" ...Dude, THEY ALL DIE!"

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Life's a Beach · The Beach: East