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70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre; private
Topic Started: Dec 12 2016, 02:03 PM (1,364 Views)
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(( Michael Crowe continued from Unlikely Salt And Pepper ))

"So's I was like 'Hey! You pull that trigger, and I'll fuck all of you up!' and you know what? He fuckin' didn't do it. Coward bastard knew what was comin' if he shot that shit, I tell ya'."

The rain pitter pattered along the windows outside the asylum. Maria and Michael had been searching the hallways and rooms for anyone hiding, good or bad. If they were good, maybe they could sway them to join the cause. If they were a name they've heard multiple times however. It was quiet as all hell.

Well, to be honest, it wasn't quite that quiet... What sounded like a machine gun went off a few floor below them, a little whiles earlier. They didn't bother to run to the source, they knew they weren't well armed to take that on yet.

That was quite the problem really. They had good cutty-beaty things, but when it came to packin' heat? Well, they weren't going to do any drive-bys any time soon. Michael was aware of what happened last time, him and Jerry, well armed, could take on anyone. That wasn't gonna happen again. They needed more people, and better gear if they really wanted to stand a chance.

Michael opened the next gate, calling out the clear sign after searching everything.

The tension of not finding anything when searching was just... ehh a little unnerving. He hated that shit. Dramatic music buildup, slow motion door open, and nothing was there. Shit pissed him off even more that cheap jump scares.

He moved to the next door. He wrapped his hand around the handle, then stopped. He knew what was on the other side. He knew it was not clear at all.


Jerry probably didn't want to see him after what he done...
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"No! Nah... T-there's nothing in there... I already checked..."

He wasn't gonna open that door. No way. That door didn't need to be opened. Nobody had to open that door, it was closed, it would stay closed.

"Let's just skip this one, alright?"

He backed away from the door and moved to the next one; sliding it open and scanning inside.

"Yeah; this one's clear too."

He figured he'd change the subject, he was not going on that feels coaster again.

"So uhhh... Anyone you looking for? Like friends, not enemies? I know a few people still alive, but I don't know where they are. Hope they're doing alright to be honest."

He didn't like this place, and to be honest, he had no idea why he came back here. All it kept doing was bringing in fucked up memories.

"Y'know, that's how I started this shit? Jerry lost someone he was close to. That's why we went after Nancy. I... Well I didn't know how he felt about it until- well, it happened to him."

He checked the next door.

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"Yeah. It ain't just gonna be the final blow though, she's got forty more whacks to the head before I'll be close to done."

Nancy fucked EVERYTHING up. This shit he's in is all her fault. Fuck her. She wants to be famous? Wants the world to recognize her face? Nah, it's only fair he smear it across the dirt, leave nothing recognizable. She was gonna eat shit.

Maria had people she wanted to find, and it was only fair that Michael would help her find them. Hell, they might even be up for joining their group, bringing justice back to the world. She'd asked about his friends. Darius was a maybe, provided he wasn't drunk as fuck and about to pass out, but Jon? He felt odd... He'd be fine with telling everyone else his plan, but there's a hesitation about telling Jonathan. What was he afraid of? Maybe...

Maybe he feared he'd get Jon hurt. That one of the freaks would murder him... That'd it be his fault, like Jerry.

"I... I uhhh, well, I don't kno- Hold up..."

Michael moved past Maria and started walking to the new shape. He laid his axe on his shoulder as he swaggered over to him. Recognition was near instant. Michael's dour disposition changed into a mocking grin. Small world huh? Ain't that a bitch...

"Eeeeyyy Allison!"

It was lil' pissbaby Al. The same Al that almost got him shot by the mall goth Who from Whoville.

"Yo; you mind tellin' us about that shitstorm at the chapel, figure I kinda' deserve an explanation for savin' your ass, don'tcha think?"

Something was wrong. Really fuckin' wrong. Wait... Hold up- wait a minute. Give it a sec... oh.



"Yo; where'd that pickaxe go? Also-"

Michael snapped his fingers and pointed at Al's arms and shirt.

"You got red on ya', an I know it ain't yours..."

The arm holding the axe lowered, an audible clank was heard as the head smacked the ground; Michael's grip tightening along the handle. His posture became much more tense, much more threatening. His face kept that same goofy ass smirk.

"Ten seconds to talk buddy, better start spittin'."
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You've got to be fucking kidding me! Three times in a row and they got guns! I want guns!

Michael lost his grin when Al pulled out his new toy.

Michael was really, really, really, reallyreallyreally reallly reeaaa-hea-hea-eally getting tired of this shit. Another one in the 'I've got a big dick because I got a gun' pile. He should be thankful though, because Alessio gave him two realizations that helped him out pretty well. One; was that getting a gun pointed at you three times in a row kind of desensitized you to it. Not by much admittedly, he was still spooked, but he didn't turn into a lispering studderfuck. Two; Al told him exactly what happened to that pickaxe, and how he got his new toy.

"Al you lil' bitch. Put that shit away for fucks sake!" Michael had to find a way around him, a way out, the lucky bas-

Not here. Jerry was watching. Not only that, he wasn't alone.

He wasn't alone anymore.

This just got a whole lot easier. Michael's shit eating grin returned.

Michael should have realized sooner, but it didn't matter. He caught his composure and took his shades off, giving Al his best Ghost Rider penance stare.

"Put it away. 's all you gotta do." Michael nodded for Maria to move to his left. As long as they spread out, they'd be harder targets.

'Ya do that, an' you start talkin', even though we probably know what you did already, and you might, just might, maybe walk away with half your teeth! That's half more than I was plannin' on leavin' you with, think a' that! Too good a deal to pass up if you ask me!"

Michael twirled his axe and laid in upon his own shoulder.

"Or you could just shoot me, then I guess Maria here will just skewer your genitals and turn you into a chode-kabob. Food for thought." Michael put his shades back on and grabbed his privy parts for emphasis, his gaze not leaving Al's eyes, even when covered.

"I mean, shit, half your teeth, or both your balls; fuck that's- well, that's actually something for you to think about isn't it. I mean, the second one would hurt more; but it's not like you're gonna use that lil' thing down there, right? No one would touch you."

Michael shrugged. All he had to do was get in Al's head. All he had to do was psych him out. He had the mind advantage here. He was a fuckin' genius after all, he could talk his way into or out of anything. Perks of a silver tongue bay-bee!

"Would it be easier if I swapped the deal? I mean, I like to see myself as a rational individual, we could make a deal, maybe a quarter of teeth, and one nut? Could always barter somethin' out."

He pointed his axe towards the gun. Now's the sinker. Pop the best deal now after the bad deal, he'll follow through.

"Hell, you put that shit away right now, even give it to me, and I might not do anything to you at all; whaddya say, eh? I'll give you a minute to think..."

Michael would give Al a minute to think. Any longer than that, then fuck it, he'll just bum rush him and see where it got from there.


Fuck it!

Michael ducked his head low and sprinted zig-zags, ready to swing the blunt end of his axe towards Al's legs. Standing still wouldn't get shit done at all.
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Michael didn't regret a thing.

He didn't regret watching Al fall to the ground.

He didn't regret throwing his axe to the side to lay into him personally.

He didn't regret the first punch.

Or the third.

Or the tenth...

This was long overdue. Al deserved this. Jae deserved this. Alex deserved this. Brendan deserved this.

Nancy deserved this.

They were all gonna get it soon. Alessio was just the first. He promised to take his teeth and now he was gonna do it. He was gonna take more. He deserved this. After all the shit he'd been through, he deserved this release. Al deserved his punishment.

"You didn't even look at them did you Al!? Just gutted 'em and left, is that right?! Huh?! How's that fucker?! You like that shit!? Look me in the eyes you shit! Look me in my fuckin' eyes! Look in my fuckin' eyes!"

He didn't feel a thing as his hands flew across Alessio's face. The ache was gone. The guilt was gone. It was all a blank slate, he was coming back. He was on the top of the chain again. No more dragging his own face through the dirt. He backhanded Al with his left arm, and threw his right fist towards Al.

Al turned. Al grabbed it.

Al bit him.

Michael regretted everything.

He regretted getting cocky.

He regretted pulling back when Al bit down.

He regretted pulling back harder when bandages and burnt flesh hung from Alessio's face like cheese on a pizza.

He regretted falling on his ass screaming and bleeding.

Michael had regretted all his choices that brought him here.
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Michael's screaming turned into groans as he held his re-mutilated hand. That fucking slimeball bit him! He fuckin' bit him! Jesus tittyfuckin' Christ! The lil' bastard actually fuckin' bit him, holy shit!

Michael rolled on the floor before grabbing the nearby pistol Al dropped.

He turned and pointed it right at Al's head.

Breath fucker, breath. This little fuck killed two already, maybe more. How long did it take for him to get this gun anyways? Aim right between the eyes. Pull the trigger. That's all you gotta do.

That's all he had to do right?


So why was it so hard?

Just pull the trigger.

Do it!


Michael inhaled deeply.

"You murderin' scumbag; your choices brought you here today. Look in my eyes; what do you see, eh? I'll tell you what you see-"


Michael aimed just to the side of the head; an intentional miss. He fired, expecting the blast to blow out Al's eardrum.



Michael stared at the flag in disbelief.

A-are you fucking kidding me?!

Michael burst into laughter.

The pain left his hand again as Michael was thrown into hysterics!

Holy shit, the fuckin' irony of this! H-he had a fake gun!

Alessio almost died over a fake gun!

Michael stopped laughing imediately.

Alessio killed over a fake gun.

Michael sent a swift kick into Al's groin.

"You fuckin' idiot! You killed someone over this?! YOU STUPID ASS BITCH! ARE YOU FUCKIN' SERIOUS?!"

Michael turned and threw the gun down the hallway. He speedwalked back to his axe and walked up to Al.

What in the fuck was he gonna do now? He couldn't bring himself to shoot the fucker, what made him think he could do it with the axe?!

Michael paused and stared at the two, switching his gaze between Maria and Al.

"Maaaaaaan, the fuck we gonna do with him?"

Michael pointed his axe at Al like a small child would point at a spilled glass of milk.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Dec 19 2016, 05:49 PM.
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He did not kill anyone?

He did not do it.

He did naaaaht.


Michael could barely speak in utter disbelief. This little fucker... Okay, let's recap a few things.

One. When he walked in on him scaring the pee pee out of the pissy pants trio, there was blood on the pickaxe. Now the implication is pretty clear there; but maybe, just maybe, he found it. Of course, that leaves another problem, who would just leave a pickaxe out of the blue?

Oh yeah... Someone who found a gun. Al had came back, covered in more blood, carrying what he thought was a real gun. Now, even if he didn't kill someone with the pickaxe in the beginning, there's a very high probability that he'd killed someone for the toy gun.

But what if- somehow he didn't kill someone. Where did the pickaxe go, and where did all the blood come from. What would he have done to get himself covered like that?

Did he play dead under someone else?

None of it really made sense. No way, there was nooo way he- Make up your fuckin' mind already!

"Alright, we wait 'till tomorrow. We just gotta find a way to keep him with us; y'know, without him biting our throats out..." Michael shook the pain out of his hand and looked at it. Fucker bit right through it, tore most of the burnt skin away. It was bleeding like a motherfucker, and he was sure he saw other gross fluids in there.

"What's in the bag, Al? I think I deserve some of your meds, 'coz y'know, you kinda bit me for no reason."
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"He got a lucky break this time. If that gun was real, motherfucker would be deaf by now." Michael stared down at Alessio, maybe it was also his lucky break. Even when he had the chance to end it all then and there, he hesitated. Not only that, he aimed away, he tried to miss. That said a lot about where he actually stood, what he could actually do. When he thought the gun was real he aimed away, he tried to miss.

He didn't hear his names on the announcements though. What if; through some shitty miscalculations and some really, really, really, rea-hea-heally bad luck on Alessio's part that he was innocent. Michael would've killed an innocent if that gun were real, and if he didn't try to miss.

But it was all bullshit, Alessio was clearly guilty, but until the verdict, they had to babysit him, just to be sure. Michael just couldn't grow a pair and follow through with his promises. That was all. Maria or Al wouldn't know, not for the time being. And once those announcements come in? Michael was sure he'd build up the strength to follow through. Gun or no gun. He still had his axe.

"But y'know what?" Michael knelt besides Al, lowering his shades to nose level. He stared Alessio right in the eyes.

"He tries any funny shit, he'll just be gettin' broken." Michael said, in the cheesiest Rutger Hauer rasp anyone could speak in non-ironically.

Michael raised his shades back to eye level, before rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

He reached his hand out to grope Al's lootbag before zipping it open. Already he saw an oddity.

Two large dirty white jacket thingies. He threw them to the side without much of a second thought. He searched through the bag finding a suspicious abundance of food and water.

"Dinner for two, eh?" He spoke with obvious disdain for the captive.

"Was this your extra 'weapon'?"

Michael awaited an answer, before shrugging and pulling out the first aid kit. He opened it up, and began working on his hand. He was gonna have to stop the bleeding, and that meant one thing.

He pulled out the lighter.



Michael's hissing rivaled the sounds of burning hand sanitizer before it warped into a loud "FUCK!" ending with Michael shaking the flames out.

After he finished bandaging, he looked at the white jackets he carelessly tossed.


Oh shit, these were straight jackets.

Michael picked one up and looked at it, wondering what it would've been used for, and why Al had it.

Was he another Isabel?

His he turned his head towards Maria, tilting his head to the jacket, then towards Alessio. He did this around three or four times.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

Hey... they had to stop him from killing them in their sleep somehow.
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Michael lowered the straight jacket and turned towards Al. The fucker wanted a water bottle.

Michael pulled it out and looked at him.


Al didn't need to answer, Michael knew the answer.

Blood dripped down the sides of Alessio's mouth, as a flap of burned skin dangled from the corner of his lower lip. Michael himself gagged from the view alone. Alessio looked like he had pizza caked over his mouth, bad, burnt pizza at that. The visage was terrible, the scent was horrible, and Michael was thankful he couldn't taste whatever the hell Al was tasting. It was bad enough to look at, it was worse to realize all of it was yours. Not only was he disgusted, he was disgusted...

He pulled out the water bottle.

"I mean, it's clear you like the taste of my meat in your mouth, otherwise you'da not bit so hard. Why'd you think you deserve water, eh? Be thankful it was fuckin' cooked y-you, you-"

He couldn't even focus looking at that shit! Michael shivered then dry-heaved before he opened the water bottle, his eyes watching Al's.

It was clear how bad he wanted it.


Michael took the water and gulped the majority of it down, leaving just enough to fill a shot glass left in the bottle.

He closed the cap and handed it to Al.

"Have at it, lint-dicker."
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Al's really pissing Mike off, him trying his hardest to be a mute is reminding him of another mute that really pissed him off. He was gonna really enjoy hearing the announcements, with Al having ended up killing like 10 people. With a start like this, he should grab one of the bed sheets, pull a plan A. Turn Alessio into a hood ornament. For a tree that is. If trees could have hood ornaments...

He just had to hype himself up. Al threw away his humanity when he killed right? Like Nancy, she wants to be seen as an object of death, and not a person. 'Fame from killing'? Disgusting. People who thought like that weren't people, that was an insult to the human race to compare them to- well, that. It helped. Dehumanize the enemy and it becomes a lot easier.

It was gonna happen on the ann-


Alvaro had a gun.

Michael heard nearby machine gun fire.

Alvaro had the machine gun.

Michael stood up. This wasn't like the other times, all he had to do was fire, and Michael would be dead ten times before he hit the floor. It wasn't a question of if he'd be hit, it was a question of how many.

From how many times he heard the ratta-tatta below him, Alvaro's been working hard...

First was uhhhh, shit what was his name? Oh yeah, Barry. Good job following horror film stereotypes Alvaro, you dick.

"Woah, hold up a minute..."

Michael kept a hold of his axe, but he raised his other hand. He wasn't gonna drop that shit. Not like it'd help. Alvaro could kill all three of them without even opening his eyes.

Then little pissbaby spoke up.

"Yeah! That's my blood on your mouth you biting fuckboy fuck! I don't even know who's blood that is on your clothes, but it ain't mine or yours you shit!"

He looked towards Alvaro.

"Ala-" Michael cut himself off, now's not the time to be witty. No name fuckings, this shit is serious.

"Alv... Listen, this is probably exactly what it looks like, but this little shit has it coming to him! He murdered someone over a fake gun! I don't know what you're tryin' to do,and I know from here, me and Maria look like the bad guys; but we ain't."

He paused and pointed towards Alessio.

"We're the good guys here. He's... not."

It only just occurred to him that Alvaro might kill him and Maria over petty shit from school like everyone else he's seen.
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"Okay, I get it..."

Fiiiiiiiiguuuuurrrres... It was petty shit! Who ta' thunk it?! Alvanabo was one of 'those' people. The same people he's been dealing with since he got here.

Big Gun Little Man Syndrome.

Symptoms of Big Gun Little Man Syndrome include; but are not limited to, Unwarranted Self-Importance, over-exaggeration of small petty shit that happened years ago, smugness, overcompensation for small genitals, Self-Serving Bias (If something goes right, it's all on you, if something goes wrong, blame everyone else), delusions of immortality, small genitals, inability to perceive opinions differing from your own, Narcissism, inability to perceive ones own genitals as small, batshit insanity, and small genitals.

Michael was getting really fed up with this shit. There was nothing he could do this time. It wasn't like something that was semi-auto or took time to fire. This was Alamborghini twitches and 30 bullets go into him and Maria. Shit-uh. Michael lowered his axe, but placed his foot on it. If they wanted it that bad, they could come take it. He wasn't gonna give them shit.

"Okay Alabama, you win. But can I ask a question?"

Michael gave his best death stare to Alessio as he ran to Albananna, acting like he was some innocent retarded kid or some shit.

"That gunfire going off? That was you right?"
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Dec 28 2016, 02:37 PM.
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"The fuck you mean you don't know? It's a yes or no question, Alvaro. Like shit, you either shot your gun or you didn't; what is it?"

Alvaro didn't know. Didn't know?!? What in the fuck? How blitzed in the fucking skull you gotta be to not know if you shot anyone. Jesus Christ, it's like... fuck man. Michael knew BGLMS hit people pretty hard, but this shit is fucking ridiculous. Durr I don't know if I kill anybody, hyuk hyuk huh-durrr.

Then there was the shit he said about taking Maria's blade. Outwardly, he kept his cool, kept his poker face slash I'ma fukkin' keel you stare. Inwardly...

He was mentally giggling like a maniac, even moreso when Maria told Al off. Michael honestly hoped Alessio tried. That'd give him the advantage-

The moment Al walked to take the sword, Michael would grab him, kick his ax to Maria, and hold Al hostage. They'd back out with Alvaro unable to shoot his buddy, then plan an ambush if he decided to follow. Everything would turn out alright in the end.

Of course it was too good to be true, Alessio was a lil' pussybitch to the core. Alvaro would be too, without that big ass Uzi staring them down. Fuckin' Al-team, we're hot shit until we lose it, then we're shit. Fuckin' chucklefuck squad.

His eyes trailed on Al as he took one of the water bottles. Spat out blood. His blood. That was his blood he just so callously spit out on the fuckin' ground. The torn skin was still there, he hadn't even wiped it off yet; the sick fuck...

"You uhh- you got a lil' somethin' on your face..."

Michael pointed to his lower lip. Al fuggin' ignored him and shuffled the fuck out like his pants were so full of shit they weighed him down. Hell, he probably did shit, the fuckin' coward. Bitey coward fucking biter, fuckin' biting me you friggen- aaaaauugh. Michael was at a point that he couldn't describe how pissed he was with the English language. He'd need to learn a new language to fully show how pissed off he was about the biting ordeal.

Relax fucker... breath... You get this pissed now, you might get yourself and Maria killed. Don't do nothing stupid...

He turned back to Alvaro.

"Whatever, don't matter. Fat cat on the announcements will tell me all I needa' hear."

He felt some foreboding feeling moving it's way up his chest. Something told him Alvin and the fuckmunk wanted more that just his bag. His arm reached out and touched one of the nearby metal doors. He was sure he could use it as a temporary cover if everything went tits up. He disguised it as leaning on the door.

"So... That's all, then?"

He gave a half-assed car dealership salesman smile towards him.
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Alvaro was gone. Even with his machine gun, he was scared as shit. Michael had left enough of an impact to intimidate him from shooting at them.

Michael kept his blank face as Alvaro left. Ran away, ran to his buddy Alessio. Again Michael had scared the cowards with the guns away. Again they stood down.

Again they got away...

Those pissants! Fuck, this close! This fucking close!

Michael punched the gate with his right hand. He regretted it when he realized how dumb an idea was to punch something that hard with your bad hand. He felt the burnt skin and bone grind against rusty metal, the sensations rushing up his arms were to his nerves as nails on chalkboard were to his ears.

In layman's terms it hurt like a bitch.


He kicked the door instead, still not a good idea. At least it wasn't the worst idea he's had.

"This fffffuckin' close! Always right fuckin' there, then some- lucky shit walks in 'an-"

Michael headbutted the door. He didn't even feel that one.

He took a moment. Breath motherfucker, breath.

"W-we can't- we can't let this shit keep up... Fuckin' shit..."

He looked at Maria.

"The announcements tomorrow. After that... No hesitations from me anymore... None. Gotta finish that shit then and there. These motherfucker's luck gotta be runnin' out right?"
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Michael didn't get much sleep. Between the switching of sleep shifts ruining his circadian clock, to the various nightmares, many of them involving Jonathan, he couldn't sleep.

He decided to take the last three shifts, as the last time he had woken up he'd done so through a sleep paralysis induced hallucination of a demonic Alvaro coming back to finish the job. Fuck it. He could sleep when he's dead.

The announcements came on, and well...

Maria reacted with shock when she heard Caleb's death. This was all starting to seem horrifically familiar. Waking up, announcements start. Hunt a player. Player gets lucky. Friend dies... Maybe it'd be different, maybe he'd be the dead one this time.

Next was... you guessed it Alessio killing people.

"I didn't kill anybody, Michael Crowe."

Michael just stared blankly at the wall. He looked up and out the window... He could kind of see the other side of the roof from there.

Kaitlyn Greene killed Mia with an Ohh-Dee... Probably one of the worst ways to go, laying on your back, a swimming pool of vomit leaking out of your mouth. Better have been an accident. Doing something like that on purpose...

Tessa blew herself and her tinfoil hat up. Kinda depressing to say he saw it from a mile away. More suicides followed...

Al got a double kill. Little pissbaby Al. So Henry's where he got the toy gun from. Michael figured Al killed Henry out of spite. Him and the other mall-goth hung together. Why couldn't he have manned up and taken Min-Jae instead? Henry was kind of alright...

But of course cowards are cowards. They don't fight the ones who can fight back...

Iz crippled and shivved someone. Michael wondered how big the pet cemetery in her backyard was.

Alvaro was working hard too. Wonder if he 'knew' what he did to Jasper.

When he heard that the crematorium was the death zone, he felt a sort of missed opportunity. He could've used one of the table legs to bar the door. Shit.

Maybe it was good he didn't. There were two innocents there, but they were with someone who wasn't... Would that count as guilty by association? In a normal society with laws it would maybe. But would it be right? Nah... It wouldn't. If Min Jae's gotta go, it's just gotta be him. But if the others attack, it'll be self defense, nothing more, nothing less.

Michael noticed something on the roof. A shape. He took his shades off and squinted at it...

"Maria... You got my condolences for Caleb. This isn't... well it's not the first time Kimiko's done this, and it ain't the first time I've seen friends lose their close ones. We'll get Kim, but we can't rush in there. We gotta be careful with this shit we're doing. I'm not letting what happened to Jerry happen again."

He reached across the hall and picked up the straight jacket.

"We gotta go, now."

He stood up, looking at the shape. He said he'd get to work right after the announcements, but this was... golden.

Michael coughed and let the bugs escape.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
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