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Stark
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Nuts.
[ *  *  * ]
((R.J. Lowe continued from They're Made Out Of Meat))

It'd been a solid day of training in the woods, and R.J. was confident. Confident, and more than a little tired. He'd heard the announcement, but was barely cognizant of it. All he wanted now was peace, quiet, and rest. He remembered the town. He reasoned that there were beds there. And with the danger zone only just clearing up, it seemed unlikely this would be like the previous two times he'd passed through this area of the island, and with fatigue and pain rapidly taking their toll, it was the least he could hope for, especially with Mary-Ann not far behind. He wasn't about to lead her into danger. Not after all they'd been through.

He planted his sword in the dirt in front of him, dropping to his knees. His grip tightened around the handle, face contorting in agony as his abdomen burned.

He stared down at the ground. Leaned forward, head rested against the flat of the blade. Deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

Crash.

Giggle.

Look up.


They weren't alone. A girl lay sprawled out on the ground before him, not thirty feet ahead. A girl who was all too familiar by now.

Blond hair.

Blood.

Murderer.

Threat.


<Mimi>: You are much nicer than I thought you'd be!
<Stark>: Shut up, fatty.
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