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Break Up And Break Down; Start of (the end of) G010
Topic Started: Aug 8 2010, 10:47 AM (9,862 Views)
Little Boy
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((Roland Harte continues from Mirror Mirror))

It was only a short jog from the Mirror Maze to the Fun Fair, but even still, Roland couldn't help but feel the fear rising up in his chest. The possibility of being gunned down suddenly and unexpectedly by one of his former classmates lurked around every broken down stall and attraction. He could feel sweat drip down his brow as he lead Isabel and Dave through the Carnival Grounds.

This place..., too many vantage points, too many angles. Do they even know how to use the guns they've got? Would someone have actually succumbed, this early in the game? Stupid question, remember Meredith? Would Isabel and Dave be able to learn quick enough? Too many fucking questions, I can't work my team if I don't know them...

Roland was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden shout nearby. He gritted his teeth and scurried over, crouching behind a nearby stand. His hand instinctively went to his side and gripped around the handle of his sword. On the way over, Roland had managed to make a temporary Sheath for the weapon, jabbing a hole through his jeans and sliding the wavy sword through. It was crude, but it hadn't fallen out. The added bonus of having his weapon close by, but not on hand, could help prevent further misinterpretations of his intentions- in theory.

I really need to figure out exactly what the fuck to call this thing... Heheh. Charlene. This is my rifle, this is my gun...

More shouts confirmed Roland's fear, people. More than one, and by the sound of it, an altercation. He motioned towards Dave and Isabel who had been following behind him to stay low and keep quiet.

Stupid Roland stupid! You were so lost in thought you could have walked right into them if they didn't scream! This isn't the time for those mistakes.. Clear and decisive Roland. Assess the situation and stick to your plan.

Roland peaked out from behind his makeshift cover.

Alright, by the looks of things, I don't have a clear line of sight. Doesn't necessarily mean the same for them... but I'm not going to figure out anything here.

With that, keeping low to the ground, Roland came out from behind cover and advanced down the street, his left hand gripping "Charlene's" handle. Making his way to a more opportune location, Roland peaked his head up just enough to make a rough assessment of the situation.

4 of them. 3 girls, and a guy. One seems to have a hostage... fuck, really?

He peaked up again for a second look and ducked back down, motioning for the others to move up with him, silently.

Shit, more familiar faces... Kyle Portman. Dating that, party-whore-thing Hayley. Math Class together... Know some type of hand to hand. Armed more likely than not... yes, yes that's a knife. He's got a fucking knife. Armed and dangerous.

Kitty, Kitty something. Weird piercings, weirder hair. What's with everyone in this school and fucked up hair?She was in the journalism club... I think. Or, something like that. She has some phobia or something like that. Artsy and all that other bullshit... Carrying something. A grenade? Assume it's a grenade, assume she knows how to use it... fucking God, knives vs grenades. She looks like she's on the up and up at least...

Fucking Gracie Wainwright. Antagonist by the looks of things... She's got her by the hair, whoever that last one is... Shit, not more Meredith look-alikes... Well, she wouldn't be useful at all whoever she is. Still.., by the look of things, she's in some trouble. Should you help her..? Is there any question? This is cut and dry Roland, you're a marine, you're the good guy. Gracie is evidently hostile. Kyle and Kitty, might be together, might not. Assume hostile. You've gotta at least make sure you can get that girl out of there, whoever she is.


Roland looked back and began to wave at his companions to hurry up. There wasn't much time to waste, if Gracie was armed then this could get even more risky than it already was.

What's with me and emo dykes today? Are they like, drawn to me for some reason?
Edited by Little Boy, Aug 14 2010, 11:07 AM.
V5
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((GMing and stuff approved an' all that!))

"Shit, that's Kyle, I think... and Gracie?" Dave whispered from beside him. Roland casted a glance over at the boy before turning back to the scene at hand.

"Think so..." Roland whispered.

Roland watched with gritted teeth as Gracie dragged the squealing Goth girl towards the exit of the fun fair. He could feel his muscles tense and his brow furrow in anger.

Gracie Wainright, exiting holding hostage. Kyle and Kitty, making no moves to stop he- shit!

Roland's eyes grew wide as Gracie shifted, hefting what looked to be a rifle up. She pointed it at the pair as she backed away. Roland momentarily ducked back down, he felt his hand tighten around Charlene.

He could hear Dave talking again beside him.

"Roland, don't do it, Bro. Gracie's an obnoxious bitch, but she don't have it in her to be a murderer. She's probably just angry the emo tried to steal her happy meal or something."

Meredith flashed through his mind again. He wanted Dave to be right, but try as he might he couldn't bring himself to twist what he was seeing to make it seem okay. The girl was being held hostage, and Gracie had a weapon.

Rifle, she's got a fucking rifle. Does she know how to use it though? And can she operate it holding a hostage? Would Kyle and Kitty oppose a direct assault, or are they looking to free her too? Kitty has that grenade, what is it? Fake? Smoke, flashbang? Too many questions.

Roland peaked his head back up over the makeshift cover. Gracie and the girl were nearly at the gates.

If I hit now, she wouldn't be able to turn. She wouldn't be able to turn, Rifle is too bulky. She doesn't seem to know how to use it. Jump behind her, throw my hands around her neck. Wrestle her to the ground, place Charlene to her neck. Hold until she stops kicking. I could do it. I can kill Gracie. I... I can...

I can save her. I can save someone. You watching Dad? Are you sitting at home, watching me? I'll give you a show. I'll give them all a show. I'll show you what happens when you put a future United States Marine on some sick and twisted game show, and expect him to bend to your will...


Dave was still talking, blathering on about holding back and letting the situation play out. Roland wasn't listening, and he didn't let the boy finish. He motioned with his hand and stood, preparing to rush in. He flipped Charlene around in his left hand. He was amazed how light it seemed all the sudden. Looking up he grinned, Gracie hadn't seen him yet.

"I'm going to get that girl bac-"

Roland suddenly felt a weight crash into him from behind and he fell, letting out a gasp of shock. His weapon fell out of his hand and he went crashing to the hard concrete, twisting around he could see Dave holding him down. His first thought was that this was a rebellion, that Dave would end up stabbing him to death and collect his first kill. However, reasoning soon took over as Roland struggled to free himself. He looked back up, panic in his eyes. Gracie and the girl were nearing the entrance.

"Dave, what the! Stop it, we can't just let them get away!" He cursed and squirmed, trying to push the other boy off of him.

"Let go, you can't expect me to just sit here and watch!" However try as he might, the damage was done. Roland looked up to see the pair exiting the Carnival. Twisting about, Roland finally managed to shove his captor away from him.

"Fuck!" He cursed, glaring at Dave. He looked back over towards the entrance, they were gone, vanished from sight.

"Dave, what the fuck have you done?"
Edited by Little Boy, Aug 30 2010, 01:18 PM.
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
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Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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Little Boy
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Roland was fuming with rage. He let out a deep breath, and pushed his glasses up on his face, trying to control his temper. Dave lay on his back, tending to his bloody nose. To be completely honest, Roland didn't know when he'd smacked the boy hard enough to give him such an injury.

He's god damn lucky I don't try to hurt him next time.

"I just stopped you getting us fucking murdered, that's what!" Dave was saying, pulling a white tissue from his pocket and gingerly touching it to his bleeding nose.

"Or was your plan to use me as a fucking meat-shield all along?"

Roland's scowl deepened. He reached over, picking his sword up off the group. Flipping it over in his hands he breathed deep, trying to withhold his anger. He looked over towards the entrance of the fair. He didn't even know who she was. Her face was burned into the back of his mind. Filled with fear.

She was afraid, afraid and alone. And we didn't even help her. God damn it. God fucking damn it.

He looked back towards Dave, rage filling him. Isabel was saying something, something about communication. He could barely hear her. He gripped Charlene tight.

It's his fault. If he hadn't have held me back, I'd have rescued her. He doesn't know what needs to be done. He doesn't know jackshit, and he's going to keep holding me back. Can I afford these distractions, now that it's down to the wire?

Roland raised the weapon, pointing the tip at his downed comrade.

"Look, Dave. You need to get something clear about me, and about this game. Survival of the Fittest isn't simple. It's not 'Play' or 'Not Play'. That sick fuck has designed this game so even if we don't play, we can turn into monsters all the same. People are changing, losing grip, Meredith and Gracie are just the first. If we sit by and let them get away with their sins, we're letting everyone who's watching know that we think it's 'Okay' to look out for number one. It isn't okay. There isn't a number one, there isn't a winner in this. We can't just watch out for ourselves, we need to watch out for each other. Not just psychically, psychologically. This game is psychological warfare. We forget what it's like to be human, to help others in need, we're just as much at fault as the cold-blooded killers out here. And one more thing."

He gritted his teeth, lowering the weapon to his side. He jabbed his finger out towards Dave, disgust on his face.

"You are not a meat-shield. You are a member of my fucking team, and it's my job to get you and anyone else I can home. Don't you ever say that shit again."

Roland turned, looking once more towards the exit. He cursed under his breath.

God dammit, this long into the game and I'm already feeling guilty, already failing?

"Alright look, I guess the situation is diffused... I don't think we should try approaching those others, Kyle and Kitty. They've probably split alread-"

Roland heard a strange noise, something banging to the ground, his ears pricked up. He stopped midsentence, looking around confused. He glanced at his companions.

"Wait, did you hear..."

Roland looked around the stand they were using as cover. A plume of smoke was rising through the air. Roland could make out vague shapes in the distance, shapes... fighting?

Holy shit. Smoke. What the hell is going on!?

"Shit. Looks like we've got more trouble." He said, motioning to his team to move forward and take a look.
Edited by Little Boy, Aug 31 2010, 10:32 PM.
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
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Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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Little Boy
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Roland had told himself he was ready. He hadn't hesitated, from the moment he began to move towards Robert he knew what would occur. He had seen videos, pictures. He'd heard his father talk of his own combat experiences, of the precision in which his unit and others would complete their tasks, no room for mercy, no room for mistakes.

No room for doubt.

He wasn't ready.

Roland couldn't believe how fast it had happened. With one steady thrust his knife had sunk deep into the back of Robert's neck and torn through the opposite side. The boy let out a startled gurgle, dropping the revved chainsaw to the ground. He wobbled forward and Roland found himself having to watch his footing. With his freehand he gripped the back of Roberts' hair. The boy was as good as dead. Roland could feel his sword hand become sticky with blood. His heart beat fast, he was excited, oh god he was excited.

Robert gurgled again, and it came rushing back to him. The implications of what he had just done. Roland let go of Robert, leaving the knife sticking out of the boys throat. He had planned to pull the blade back out, and beat a hasty retreat. His plan was flawed from the start. Watching the boy fall to his knees, Roland felt for the first time true, unleaded and unrelenting horror begin to rise up inside him.

All the seemingly correct theories, what the game was, what Danya wanted them to do... Everything Roland had been so very sure of suddenly faltered, washed away in a sea of self-doubt as Robert stumbled forward, Charlene's blade sticking out from the back of his neck. It had happened so fast. It was black and white, as clear as day mere moments before. But that was ages ago, and growing farther still.

Roland Harte, for all his theories, hadn't awoken instantly knowing what Survival of the Fittest was really about.

Watching Robert sink to the ground, choking on his own blood, Roland still didn't know.

The abject terror rose up from deep inside him and latched hold of his mind, refusing to let go.

Roland found himself stumbling backwards, falling onto his ass. In truth, he had barely registered anything that had occurred after the knife blow. The real world and its happenings were inconsequential in comparison to the chaos loose within his mind. If he had said or done anything during this span of time, he couldn't recall. The next action that he consciously registered was Alex Rasputin bringing the chainsaw down to rip into Robert's stomach, spraying blood indiscriminately on the pair of them.

What have I done?

Roland felt a strange taste in his open mouth and it took him a second to register what was going on. It took him longer still to comprehend. Alex had taken the brunt of the torrent of blood, but Roland wasn't exempt. As the chainsaw cut through the boys flesh and bone, Roland had let out an ill timed gasp, and for his stupidity he was greeted with a spray of Robert's inner fluids down the back of his throat. Roland closed his eyes and half heartily brought his hands up to shield himself from the spray. Just as quickly as it had begun it was older. Robert's gurgling noises had ceased, and the boy slumped down, his organs gushing out of his open wound onto the cracked pavement.

This is who I saved?

"Al...." He said, not able to tear his gaze from the fallen boy. His sweater was soaked, his glasses needed cleaning, his hair...

I... I'll need a shower. I killed him, and I need to get his blood out of my hair. I...

"Alex.. what... what've you done..?"

Not what has he done. What have YOU done. You. Roland.

"He was... he... Jesus Christ..."

This can't be a mistake. I know what I saw. This isn't a mistake. This isn't a mistake. I'm not wrong. I CAN'T be wrong.
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
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Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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Little Boy
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Roland felt as if time was being pulled apart at the seams, distorted into a shape unfamiliar to him. He had asked Alex a question, he was sure of that. What he wasn't so sure of was how Alex had managed to run across the Fair Ground in a blink of an eye, disappearing out of view.

But he was just here. He was just here, with Robert. How long...


He blinked, slow and deliberate.

I'm losing my head. I can't.. He ran. I need to get him. I need to talk to him.


Roland couldn't move. He opened his eyes, looking around once more. The smoke was gone. Alex was nowhere to be seen. Robert... was still there. As if he would be anywhere else. Roland's spit, red from Robert's blood, dribbled down his chin onto his dampened sweater. The sun was setting.

How long... How.. What have I done? How long have I been here? How long?


Roland once more struggled to his feet, this time he succeeded. He felt numb, his hands were tingling incessantly. It was growing cold, but he refused to believe the temperature was the only thing causing the chill he suddenly felt running down his spine. He slowly turned his head, regarding Robert... or what remained of the boy. The site was horrifying, the boy's organs and intestines were splayed across the ground nearby and a sickening scent filled the air. Despite the grotesque display, Roland refused to budge or remove his gaze. He needed to look. He needed to be able to take this.


Is this how it feels? Is this how it's supposed to feel after...


The immediate area around Robert had been drenched with his lifeblood, but it was fading now to a duller color. Roland viewed the scene, trying his hardest to remain detached, remote. The memory of the killing was fresh in his mind, although the details faded. He remembered plunging the blade deep within his neck, the roar of the chainsaw... He had the pieces, but linking them was causing some trouble. Roland pushed the matter aside. He had survived, he was the same, was he not?


I did this. This.. was me. I killed this boy. I am a murderer.


After what seemed like an eternity, Roland removed his glasses, wiping them clean with his sweater.

I am a marine. I am a marine.


He began to pace around the clearing, around Robert's remain. His gaze never leaving the corpse. Occasionally he ran his hands through his black hair. After some time it occurred to Roland that Dave and Isabel had left, and it didn't appear likely they would return. He could feel an all too real sting at that- they had witnessed it, he was certain. For all his words, everything he had said to them, to Merry...

This means nothing to me, death- I am better than death. I understand it, I'm not afraid of it. This was the only way- Robert acted irrationally, he forced my hand. Alex is alive because of me. Dave, Isabel. If I meet you again, you know my goal. I'm taking you with me. You might think I'm just talk, but you're on my team now, you haven't changed. You'll see. I look at death and I am not afraid. I am Roland, I'm a marine and I can win.


Roland bent down and grabbed the handle of Charlene. With a mighty tug, he hauled the blade out of the back of Roberts' neck.

I need to wash this..., I need a shower. I won't be gaining much trust, many allies in my current state... This wasn't a mistake. I can beat this game. I will beat this game.


A shape near the side of an attraction finally drew his attention. Lowering his blade, Roland walked over. The shape... was moving, that was clear. Breathing at least. A sudden realization hit Roland, Kitty. The girl from before, she had a grenade. A smoke bomb?

Dropping his weapon, Roland ran to her side. He crouched down, shaking her shoulder to rouse her from her sleep. He could feel his heart pumping once more.

"Shit, shit! Kitty? Kitty, wake up!" Roland looked at the girl up and down. He couldn't spot any injuries, it seemed like she'd just banged her head. Most likely Alex ha- no, Robert, most likely Robert had attacked her.

"Kitty, you're alright now. Can you stand?"
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
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Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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Little Boy
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(Godmod approved)

Roland winced at Kitty's pained reply. The situation did not look good. Roland glanced around the fair, it was getting dark and he could see no one nearby.

Even if there was someone, could they be trusted to help?


Roland propped the girl up slowly, careful not to hurt her anymore than she already was. Roland didn't see any severe injuries, but he wasn't exactly a first rate doctor, caution was the best course of action.

"Don't worry Kitty. I'm Roland. You remember me, right? You're in good hands, you'll be just fine."

Suddenly somewhere nearby a speaker crackled, and Roland jerked his head up. He scanned the area, looking for the source of the noise. He couldn't exactly pinpoint where it was, but it was coming through crystal clear. He cursed as a voice began to speak, an all too familiar voice. Memories of the room, his teachers cries of pain, filled Roland's mind. He gritted his teeth.

Danya. Well you fat fuck, what do you have to say?


Roland couldn't waste any time, even to listen to an announcement. There was no telling who was out there, who was already on the move. Roland began to pull Kitty up, cautiously.

"You're going to be fine. We need to get out of here, so we can check out your wounds.."

The girl was mumbling, barely able to get a full thought out. That was worrying. Roland began to move across the way, supporting Kitty on his right shoulder to where he had dropped his weapon. As he bent to pick up Charlene, still smeared with Roberts' blood, his ears pricked up. The announcement, Danya was listing the dead. A chill ran through Roland as he awkwardly shoved his sword through a loop on his belt.

Robert wasn't the first... he won't be the last. Who's already gone..? No Roland, wrong question. Who are the killers..?


Roland continued on his way, all the while supporting Kitty on his shoulder. He couldn't exactly tell what the girl was saying, not that he was listening in the first place. This announcement was much more... interesting.

Omar. Omar... wasn't he dating a girl, Sierra? Yes. Killer. Watch for him. Ale-

Roland froze. He looked back towards the tattered remains of Robert Lerger, a boy he had once known. He bit down on his lip, hard. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Alex Rasputin, killer of Eric Lorenz, Robert Lerger. Alex, next time we meet, I think we're going to have to have a little chat. And rest assured, we will meet.


He spat on the ground, blood dripping from his cut lip. That wasn't smart.

Stupid Roland, stupid! What good is this going to do you? You aren't cut out for this, your fucking 'team' has ditched on you, and you might have just killed an innocent...


He shut his eyes, breathing deep through his nose. He could feel his pulse quickening, his entire body seemingly heating up. A low growl escaped from his throat.

Control Roland, control. There will be time for evaluation... You can't lose it. You can stomach this sick game.

Focus, who else? Kris, that weird skateboarder. Kill on sight. Clio, ...Clio? Who the fuck is Clio? Shit.. Need to learn who she is. Better yet, learn to avoid her. The other twin, the other Ishida. Two..? She's murdered two people? Kill on sight. What else? Molotovs. Someone has a fucking Molotov. Fuck, how am I supposed to go up against someone with a Molotov?

...They have a FUCKING BEAR? Jesus Christ, how are we supposed to fight a bear? Need to get out of this fair. Need to get to higher ground, or some sort of building... Ivan. Russian kid, the Tennis Kid. He's a killer. Rob...? What the hell? Resident Nazi? Is he bullshitting? Rob isn't a Nazi.. But really, how well do I know Rob? Not fucking well... Oh fuck. Kronwall, Staffan's out. If he broke this fast, shit, what chance do I have on finding anyone else? Colin and Jackie, last two killers. Don't know them well.. I guess I never really would have known any of them well. Avoid, kill if unavoidable. Kill...


He looked back towards the body laying on the ground. He paused, slowly lowering Kitty down to the pavement.

"One second..."

“It has nothing to do with sins. You are right that there is no winner, but not in the way you think. There are only losers. We are all losers.”


Roland flinched remember Isabel's words. No winners. Only losers. Alex, Roland... Robert. Was he a hypocrite? Had he been right? Doubt filled his mind once more. Roland began to walk, slowly at first but with growing speed towards the corpse.

The announcement said Alex killed Robert. Not true. I stabbed him, I'm as guilty as Alex. If I run away, I'm no better than he was. I can't go back and change what I've done.. but I can change what I may become.

Standing over the boys corpse, Roland looked down into his empty eyes. The blood had long since stopped flowing from the gaping wound in the boy, but the stench was only growing stronger with every passing minute. Roland hesitated before bending down and gripping the legs of Robert. With a yank he began to drag him across the pavement, back to where he had left Kitty. He tried not to look at the corpse, but it was unavoidable. Much of the boys intestines still lay on the pavement where he had initially died, caught on something or the other. Bodily fluids still leaked from the corpse as he dragged it along. Roland couldn't stop. He had started the grisley task, and he needed to see it through until the end.

I am not a monster, I am a Marine, and I did what I thought was right. I WAS right. And I am still doing the right thing...


Reaching Kitty, he picked the girl up again, supporting her on his right shoulder. His pack lay nearby, he picked it up, swinging it around his neck. With one last glance around the area, he saw another bag laying of to the side. Slowly making his way over towards it, Roland examined the name. Kitty. Kitty Gittschall. He grunted as he slung the second pack over his neck.

"Don't worry Kitty, we're almost out of here."

Announcement said there was a Lighthouse, some Hut, Groundskeepers wasn't it? And someplace called the Greens. All three, Dangerzones. Forest. Head to the trees, regroup. Regroup and deal with Robert.


Making his way once more over to Roberts corpse, he grabbed the boy by left ankle. With a mighty yank the overburdened Roland began to drag the corpse along with him, towards the edge of the fair. He could hear Kitty on his right shoulder murmuring in pain, something about feeling dizzy.

"It's alright Kitty. You're gonna be just fine. You're on my side now."

((Roland Harte continued elsewhere))
((Kitty Gittschall continued elsewhere))
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
Spoiler: click to toggle

Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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