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((Jake Crimson continued from Morning Comes Slowly))

Jake felt like utter shit. Combat boots and leather pants are not conducive to walking long distances on a hot day. He had spent almost the entire third day of his stay on the island walking, after spending most of Day 2 unconscious. He had no way of knowing this, of course. He had no clue how long he was out, and had lost all track of time. As far as he knew, he was still there. And still fucked.

It was an endless sequence of walking, resting, coughing, and drinking water. And occasional pissing. He was pretty sure most trees on the island hated him now.

So it was Day 4 when he finally managed to find rest. Another forest, almost exactly like the one he woke up in, but slightly different. He caught a sound he recognized only from movies and TV. He had never heard it before in real life, being a city boy. But he knew it when he heard it.

Running water.

He practically jogged toward the sound, kept off-balance by a cinderblock in one hand, a duffel bag over his chest, and an evil jackhammer in his skull. So it was more of a coordinated stumble.

He found it. A nice, clear stream of actual running water. Not that stagnant crap he awoke in on the first day. He fell to his knees, splashing water on his face. The cool liquid felt amazing on his body, the most refreshing thing in life.

Of course, every good moment has to be ruined. And this one was ruined by talking.

Jake suddenly had a VERY bad flashback to the last time he ended up around a group of people. Someone got his head blown off. Literally, contrary to the common metaphorical use. And then he spotted movement by a willow tree about ten yards away, on the opposite side of the bank.

He had what could only be described as a freakout retreat. Abandoning his gray weapon/mortal enemy by the bank, he scrambled for cover. He found it in a nearby bush, which happened to look quite similar to the one he had left two days ago. He practically dove behind the shrubbery, rolling onto his side as the daypack he stupidly left around his torso threw him off balance.

Fucking A, who's going to get shot now?
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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