"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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Hollyquin
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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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Garrett watched the boat. Automatically overcautious even though as far as he could tell, it was real. Not a trick. Why the fuck would Danya fake something like this? Killing kids off wasn't part of his plan, he wanted to see a bunch of teenagers go to shit and kill each other- well, the guy had said only non-players allowed, maybe they were just trying to round up all the boring kids, drown them out at sea, or just shoot up the cabins when they all seemed good and safe...or maybe they'd sent this boat just for him, and Franco, and Fiona had she been here. Maybe they'd thought, let's lure the rebels into a goddamn trap, make 'em think they're safe, kill 'em all...

But that wasn't it. He was a paranoid fuck, yes, okay, Survival of the Fittest would do that to a kid or a man, even. But even he realised- this was too good to be true, but it still was. If Danya wanted him dead, well, he had a fucking death squad for that, they'd done a good enough job on Belle and Liz, hadn't they? What did he need a fake-savior-boat for? He didn't. This was the beautiful thing. This boat wasn't a trap. This boat was the result. Liz and Belle and whoever else had been fucking with the system- they brought this boat here.

The revolution was complete, and he hadn't even gotten a goddamn foot in the door.

Franco was jumpy. Like he had something to hide, even. What it was, Garrett didn't know and Garrett didn't care- Jeremy hadn't killed anyone, he knew that much. So, unless Franco had been pulling some major sketchy shit behind Garrett's back, he was getting right on that boat, off to his Happy Meal or whatever the fuck it was the guy had said. But when he spoke, when Jeremy spoke, he was still jumpy and he seemed almost- was that right? Wait, did he really, honestly think there was any chance Garrett wasn't getting on the fucking boat? Okay, sure, revolution, it was over. There was no better outcome. Everyone who mattered was going to get off the island. That was, everyone who wasn't already dead.

The killers could go get fucked, far as he could tell.

But dammit, Franco. So like him. When the going gets tough, the whiny pricks get going.

"Jeremy Franco."

Oh my god saying this out loud felt so fucking good.

"You are a fucking idiot, you know that? Jesus, this is what Liz and Belle were fighting for. This is what we wanted. This was the best possible fucking outcome. Couldn't have asked for more. What the hell else could I do if I stayed? I'd bet money that if there are boats out here, there's a whole team up in the compound keeping the rest of Team Terrorist Asshole busy. So we kind of missed the boat- I mean, not literally, but...you know what I mean. Revolution, done. Time to get the fuck out of Dodge."

Okay so maybe calling him a fucking idiot wasn't necessary. They were pretty much in agreement. But after the last few days, now that the end of dealing with this fucking kid was in sight, he kind of had to.

Garrett started moving at top speed, and it hurt like a bitch, but there was a boat right there, and it wanted him in the worst way. Besides, he wasn't about to let Franco beat him in a foot race, even if he was crippled. Fuck it. But soon enough, both of them stood by the boat, looking up at the big man and his big gun, and Franco probably wanted to talk but whatever, Garrett cut over him.

"Garrett Hunter. This is Jeremy Franco. We're not on your fuckin' list, but feel free to check if you want. And..."

So he'd been thinking. So the revolution was over? Not quite. The revolution was on their shores, yes, but there was still the compound being stormed. There was still getting these boats out of here unscathed. There was still getting home. It'd be so easy to just relax and think oh, right, going home now, all's well, game over, but it'd be just as easy to die before he got there. Besides, he was still bitter. Bitter that he'd done absolutely shit all.

He had to rectify that, or he'd never live it down.

"...I don't know about Franco here, but if there's anything I can do...anywhere I can fight, send me there. I want to help."

Garrett Hunter was not taking no for an answer. This was his moment. Please, let this be his moment, because he wasn't getting another.
Edited by Hollyquin, May 23 2011, 10:37 AM.
being meguca is suffering

[V5] ALIVE:
[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!

[V5] CONCEPTS:
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