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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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[[Dustin Royal continued from It Knows Nothing Of Whim]]

"Fucking...tunnels! Augh..."

That last bit was the sound of Dustin Royal kicking a rock.

Well. He doubted anyone else would be any less frustrated than he was right now.

Hours. Many hours. That was how long it had taken him to get through those godfucking tunnels and out the other end. He'd assumed that he was already halfway through the tunnels when he left the blood-soaked crime scene where he'd found the others, but no, apparently not. It had been barely light when he left the far end of the tunnel; it had taken him a good three hours or so to reach the body. He figured he'd be out by nightfall- not a chance. Fuck, he had to stop mid-journey to sleep for a while- completely helpless, alone in the dark, he had to sleep. He could've cried when he woke up in one piece. (Not that he would dream of actually crying, oh no, there was far too good a chance that there was a camera somewhere nearby. Do they have night-vision cameras down here?)

The light- the end of the tunnel, the exit, salvation or some more hell- began to penetrate heh the tunnel just as the nearest speaker buzzed to life.

"Good morning, survivors. Yet again, you've managed to exceed my expectations."

He didn't want to hear this. He kept moving. The light was real close now and he'd feel a little better about this bullshit if he was...what? Outside? In the light? How was that going to happen?

Shut up. Fuck it. I just want out of this death trap.

"Twenty five more of you met their tragic and heart-wrenching ends yesterday, making it the best day yet."

Twenty five. Twenty five kids. That was not okay. Not even a little. Jesus Christ, how many kids have to be playing for that many to be dead? That's not just a couple of crazies, that's a whole island of 'em. No one's safe. Nothing's safe. I'm...not...safe.

Fucking hell.

"Of course, not all of that was due to direct kills, so I'm not quite sure if we should count it."

Ah, yes. Well. Dustin had heard those announcements, the ones pertaining to that bitch Liz Polanski, whose name he hardly recognized (and what girl's name did he not know, really?) and who was apparently endangering everyone on the damn island by fucking around. He was still alive- that was the important bit. Not that he was okay with what was happening- he wasn't, but he didn't want to be the one killing her.

Day 5 and Dustin fucking Royal of all people still didn't want to kill anyone. Who'd of bet on that?

He didn't listen to the names. He didn't want to know. Instead he focused on the light, followed it, forced himself to it until-


He was on a mountain. On a fucking mountain. A. Fucking. Mountain.

It was kind of awesome, but it begged the question-

How the fuck do I get down from here?

It was about then that he kicked the rock.
Edited by Hollyquin, Jan 8 2011, 11:09 PM.
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

Those Who've Known - V4
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Walk On Water Or Drown · The Mountain