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Trained for combat by a cabal of hacktivists.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Dave Morrison and Winnie Clark, continued from Faraday's Cages.))

Dave stuck close to Izzy as they walked, not wanting to get lost, get seperated from the rest of them. He wasn't sure what'd happened to Charlie taking over, but whatever'd caused that one had ended now. Everyone was pretty set on following Izzy to wherever she was going.

This time there were no games, no laughter, no impromptu rap battles. Dave just kept silent, keeping his eyes open for any threats, and looking back to check they hadn't lost anyone. He desperately wanted to say something; to crack a dumb joke, lighten everyone's spirits just that little bit, but for once he was lost for words. He'd open his mouth, try to say something, but nothing would come out.

He looked around. Izzy had ended up leading them to a small house out in the middle of nowhere. Great. Dave knew how this one was gonna work out. She rushed off ahead, leaving Dave to follow with the rest. Following after Izzy, Dave could see her knelt next to what looked like- a body? Dave jogged over, stopping close to Izzy. She showed him a note, clutched between the body's still lukewarm fingers.

Don't say a single word. Dave had that one down already. Hell, they all did, pretty much. That would be the easy part. The hard part would be what they found inside.

Hands raised, he walked in.

They were met by a girl, missing a couple of fingers, covered in burns. Shades of Liz. She was holding another note. Convenient. This whole thing was set up for someone to stumble upon, Dave guessed. The girl with missing fingers passed it to Izzy. She passed it to Dave. Dave passed it to Winnie. She passed it to whoever. The plan. What the guy outside had died for, and the instructions on how to make it. The thing that was now on the floor in front of him, assembled by an amputee. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Never knew you, Ethan Kent. But you must have been a hardcore son of a bitch. A small eulogy to someone he had never talked to. Someone he'd have gone the rest of his life not knowing, a footnote at his graduation. Now he was lying outside dead and they were following his plan in the hopes it would get them out of here.

Funny how these things worked, huh?

Izzy took a turn on the bicycle. Dave timed it. She got off. Someone else got on. Dave grabbed a pen and a few scattered sheets of paper. Drew a quick crosshatch. Motioned for Izzy to play a couple of games.

They ended up playing for hours; every sheet of paper they could find was covered in noughts and crosses. Dave didn't win much.

Around his hundredth loss, he just sunk back and waited for his turn on the exercise bike.
B035 - Ray Gilbert - DECEASED - Guy Fawkes Mask - Too Far Gone
G029 - Zoe Leverett - DECEASED - Machete - To Really Be Alone, To Pick At All the Bones
[18:10] <Laurels> WWJD? Fuck corpses, apparently

[15:16] <Naft> My college once nearly burned down because someone tried to make a bong out of dollar bills and the fire alarm didn't work
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House of the Rising Sun · The Ranger Station