Dance Yrself Clean

[Kermit]

Michael did actually leave that time.

He'd always had a strange gait, for as long as he could remember. When most people walked, their heel hit the ground first, and then their weight shifted to the front of their foot as they took a step. He, on the other hand, walked with the front of his foot hitting the ground first; his heels rarely ever touching the ground. His dad had told him it was how Kenyan long-distance runners walked, which was cool, he guessed.

He'd been walking almost constantly for literally the past twenty-four hours and only now were his feet starting to hurt. Truly, he'd missed his calling.

He felt fine, which was weird to him. He wasn't used to it. Since leaving the beach, he'd figured some stuff out. His brain was working overtime

He'd reached acceptance. Of himself, of the island, of Beryl's death, of everything.

He was. That was all he could be. He existed. Shit happened. He didn't care.

There was no such thing as wrong and right. Reality was what you made of it; it was completely subjective. The definition of correct, to quote Beryl Mahelona, was that nothing was correct.. and that anything and everything could be, could be.. um, beautiful. Interesting. Fun..?

It was especially true in a place like this, wasn't it? There were no consequences here. Everyone had the freedom to engage the id now. It was the only thing anybody here really had to look forward to.

Michael was ready to tear everything apart. Michael was ready to have fun. Michael was ready to be wild. Michael was ready to finally just fucking let himself be happy.

Michael wasn't ready to do it all alone. He needed a person with him; someone he could make feel happy. Someone who could make him feel happy. He was so fucking tired of being lonely.

And so he stopped walking. He walked over to a tree, and he slumped against it, sitting down. He fwooped his cult hood back up, brought his hands up to his mouth to make an impromptu megaphone, and bellowed out.

"Burn the streets, burn the cars! Pa-pa-power, pa-pa-power!"

Song lyrics, but also a beckoning call, he hoped.

Just in case, he grabbed his gun and held it in his hand limply on the ground.

[Primrosette]

((Jonathan Meyers continued from Someone's Watching))

Jonathan had been humming to himself as he had been watching around alone in the woods and he was still ready to use the rock as a weapon if anyone would attack him. Now he was just making sure that he wasn't making as much noise as he did before and he was trying to keep a sharp eye out for other people. He was sure that Declyn, Amelia and Theo weren't there now and he knew that he should have stayed with them in the first place. Teresa and Val were both lost causes and he hoped that Meka could stay sane for longer.

Jonathan then heard a noise. No, a voice calling out like a fool and Jonathan found himself moving towards the direction of the voice. Jonathan was making sure that he was sticking close to the trees and he was trying to not let his approaching headache take over him and his thoughts. He then saw someone sitting in front of a tree not that far in front of him and he hid behind the tree that he was closest too. He wasn't sure why he was doing so but he knew that he had to be more careful and that it was getting harder for him to out right trust other people.

I should say something right? I can't just be silent this whole time....

"Hey. Why are you yelling? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He asked a bit loudly so the person would hear him; his back was against the tree and he was holding onto the rock more firmly.

[Kermit]

"Hey. Why are you yelling? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Asked the forest.

Always. Occasionally? Always occasionally. Usually. Don't worry about it.

Why was the forest always so mean to him? The forest was a real stick in the mud. What a fuckin' square.

Okay, well, no, it was the people in the forest that sucked. It wasn't the forest's fault.

The dude in the forest was a total square. Lame! That was the opposite of what Michael wanted! First Claude, now this!?

Though... forest guy was the one approaching an obviously-unstable person alone in the woods. Like, Michael didn't watch many horror movies, but like... that was how the very first death always happened; like, the death that happened before anybody knew there was a spooky dude in the woods.

Maybe forest dude wanted to die.

Or maybe he wasn't great at judgement calls.

Either way, Michael could have some fun! He could try.

Maybe he could help someone. He could try.



A quick, short laugh.

"...I dunno, are you?"

[Primrosette]

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the laugh and the answer from the voice that was now more clearly the voice of a boy. So it sounded like the other guy was unsure of what he wanted and Jonathan was trying to think of how to respond back to him. His head was not making things easier for him in this situation and he felt himself wanting to rub the back of his head. But he stopped himself from raising his hand and he cleared his throat softly.

"...."

He wasn't sure if he was trying to get himself killed or not and he wondered how much longer he could keep going with trying to survive. There was no way that he could win this and there was no way that he could escape from this living nightmare. Unless the other guy had a weapon....

What am I thinking?! He's trying to mess with my head. I can't let him do that.

"Heh. Not really. I don't want to die right now. I'm not ready for death yet." He said simply. "...Not like I have a choice in the matter."

[Kermit]

Though it could barely be heard over the sound of trees rustling in the wind, there was a very tangible silence after Michael's reply. He'd psyched forest boy out, he was pretty sure.

He was proud of that, kinda sorta maybe(?). He'd only said four words, and he'd already gotten to forest boy's mind with his brain worms or whatever.
a very special frog indeed......
Forest boy laughed a single laugh. Either a nervous laugh or an unconscious reciprocal action, like when you cleared your throat after hearing someone else clear their throat.

Good. Good? Good, probably.

Forest boy said "Not really." He said he didn't want to die right now; that he wasn't ready. He then said it wasn't like he really had a choice in the matter, though.

Michael's shoulders perked up. Maybe there was some potential here.

"Mmm, ain't like there was ever a choice there. You got a choice in the how, the when, and the why. You got a choice in what you do before you die. You got a choice between dying full of regret or full of guilt."


Michael paused for a few seconds. He'd just noticed something and it kind of unsettled him a quite a bit.

He had a southern accent now. He hadn't had one before the trip, he was pretty sure. He'd always sounded like he was from California (because he was from California (he wished he'd stayed in California)). Words like Y'all and Ain't had never been a regular part of his vocabulary.

He wasn't sure what it meant.

He didn't want to think about it.

He stopped thinking about it.


"The French have a saying, forest man. L'appel du vide. Call of the void, in English," he let it fester. "Y'all ever heard of it?"

[MK Kilmarnock]

Lapel Daveed, huh?

Justin couldn't say he'd heard of it.

((Justin Green continued from another hellish failure))

He did understand the point of it, at least loosely, and at least he was pretty sure of it. But just getting it from Michael's mouth didn't seem like it was going to happen. Frustratingly, Justin had to rely on context clues in order to make heads or tails of the situation. Fortunately, he had come here soon enough; Michael's shouting and calling had traveled some good distance through the woods and drawn him here only to learn that was the intended purpose. Well, it worked, but maybe a little too well, because... John? Meyers, maybe, Justin sort of intrinsically placed the name, decided it sounded right, and rolled with it. For simplicity, he thought of him merely as John. Anyway, it worked a little too well because it had called both him and John to this place.

Getting the drop on Michael? Easy, at least in theory. On the both of them... that was a Ned and Tanisha situation all over again. Just throw a match into that mixture in the form of a crazed gunman (or gunwoman) and watch it go up like a powder keg.

So much uncertainty. Deciding what to do, what would be right. Michael had a gun, maybe the same gun he pointed at Justin all the way back when they first woke up. Seemed like months ago but it couldn't have been more than a matter of days. All Justin had to speak for was the very lead pipe he had in that encounter. Michael would probably be less charitable this go around in a face-to-face confrontation. Getting behind him didn't seem easy, because John would probably open his big mouth. 'Look out, there's a killer behind you!' or something like that.

But again, context. Contextually speaking, Michael sounded... almost like he wanted to die, like he was actively looking for death and calling out for trouble. He wouldn't know it, but trouble did find him. Somebody like Michael... no, Michael himself, was bad trouble. It was hard to spell out in his head but there was that sort of connection being together on that first day. Michael saw first hand what he did, and probably heard about the follow-up. Not Ned or Camilla, because they lived, but he'd hear about Mackenzie. Basically the only person worse to run into right now would have been Meka. But there was the other difference in these two encounters: Justin wouldn't stand to gain much from killing Meka, but Michael had a gun. If only he could get his hands on an actual gun... then somebody like Lorenzo wouldn't seem so scary anymore, with his big heavy-looking maul.

But what to do? How to go about it? What to say? Justin chomped on the skin beyond his lower lip and fidgeted against the fat tree he hid behind, eavesdropping and thinking, vainly planning.

Maybe somebody would do something incredibly stupid. And then he'd take advantage.

Yeah. That might work.

[Primrosette]

Call of the void, huh? …Yes, I have heard of it. But why would he even ask me about this? Is he trying to distract me? I don't hear any movement so I guess he just wants to talk to me about it. Okay, well, I guess there's no harm in doing so.

Jonathan was silent once more for a few moments and he found himself staring out at the trees in front of him in a clear daze. His mind felt like it was fading in and out at times and he wished that it wasn't such a hassle when he would try to think about things. He tapped a fingernail against the bark of the tree and he bit down on the dried skin of his warm lips. Where was he supposed to go from here? Should he just leave so the other boy was left with silence and no answer from him? But what would be the point of that? It's not like the other boy was going anything to him. Yet. So staying for a few minutes or so wouldn't be that bad. …Right?

"Yes. I have." He answered simply and honestly.

He was quiet once again. A minute must have passed with the silence and he knew that he had to fill that silence.

"Why are you asking me about it?"

[Kermit]

Forest boy took a while to answer. In the silence, Michael's brain did Michael brain things. This time, it was a little different. It managed to mostly follow a single train of thought.

The only thing he really felt guilty about was Beryl's death; which was interesting, because it was one of the few deaths he was party to that was objectively not his fault. What he felt about Camila, about all of the people Erika'd killed yesterday — it was an approximation of guilt. Shame, maybe? Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he'd been using it to try to convince himself and the cameras he wasn't a bad person, because bad people didn't feel guilt, or whatever. Even before the island, he'd been doing it. He'd just wanted people to like him, because he liked it when he made people happy. Doing good things made him feel good and that was why he'd tried to do good things. Doing bad things made people not like him and that was he hadn't done bad things unless he could get away with them.

He hadn't done many good things on the island. He'd done a lot of bad things.

He'd been trying to justify the bad shit he did and it was just like... l'appel du vide. The little voice at the back of his mind who'd always been there, telling him to jump out of windows or to murder Morgan or to hang out with Beryl.

Huh, that last one was sure a realization. He still missed her, he guessed. He'd liked her because he'd never had to justify himself around her.

L'appel du vide was why he'd done everything here. It was why he'd followed Benny and Bert into the forest. It was why he'd followed Beryl's blood trail; he'd known it was her who got shot as soon as he heard Henry shout her name. It was why he'd taken a shitload of pills on the first night. It was why he'd followed Nick. It was why he'd asked Nia to shoot him. It was why he'd taken a shitload of pills at the menagerie. It was why he'd abandoned Nick and Marco. It was why he'd gone back to the commissary. It was why he'd sung and danced and looked at Jeremiah's corpse. It was why he'd slept next to Jeremiah's corpse. It was why he'd done a little art project with Jeremiah's blood. It was why he'd lured Camila into the commissary. It was why he'd offered to kill her when he knew she wouldn't say no. It was why he'd asked Lori for LSD (he'd said it out loud, for Pete's sake!). It was why he'd taken the LSD. It was why he'd abandoned Morgan. It was why he'd taken The Many-Eyed Bear. It was why he'd gone to meet with Erika. It was why he'd said all that crazy shit to her. It was why he didn't stab her with the syringe in his pocket while she wasn't expecting it. It was why he let her have the sniper rifle. It was why he'd put on the cult robe. It was why he'd looked at Kyle's corpse. It was why he went to the yacht. It was why he sang the song by YACHT at the yacht. It was why he'd goaded Nia into shooting him. It was why he'd shot Nia. It was why he'd told her she couldn't do anything right. It was why he'd gone back to see Camila's corpse. It was why he'd been so fascinated by Violet. It was why he'd walked away from her when she told him if he stayed she'd shoot him. It was why he'd gone back to where Beryl died. It was why he'd gone back to the gravel beach where she'd been buried at sea. It was why he'd taken the LSD before taking her out to sea.

It was why he could never forget.

It was why he never let himself be happy.

He didn't want to die. He didn't really want to live either, but if he wanted to die, he'd have shot himself or ODed on insulin by now.

He did it all because emotional self-harm was the one thing that ever made him feel like he had a soul. An addict. A junkie. That was his id.

He was talking with a southern accent because it made it sound catchier when he said crazy shit.


L'appel du vide wasn't why he'd shot Camila after she'd agreed to him shooting her. It wasn't why he told her she wasn't pathetic. It wasn't why he'd honored her last wishes and let her slowly bleed out alone. It wasn't why he'd tried to get Morgan to leave him in the storeroom. It wasn't why he'd stayed with him for the day. It wasn't why he'd approached Lori at the waterfall. It wasn't why he'd let her go. It wasn't why he'd taken Beryl back out to sea.

That was something different.




Forest boy spoke; Michael snapped out of the fugue.

He hadn't taken his ADHD meds this morning. He wasn't gonna take them today. He was gonna see what happened.

His left hand was healing up nicely.

He had really sharp fingernails.

Forest boy had heard of l'appel du vide. Darn! Michael had a whole speech ready to explain it! Forest boy asked him why he was asking him about it.

He was so fucking tired of having to justify himself. He gritted his teeth.

"I'm asking you because you walked up to a raving lunatic with a gun and a wacky cult robe alone in the GODDAMN woods," he spat, exasperated. "I'm trying to figure out why you followed l'appel du vide; moi. I'm trying to figure out what the fuck your deal is. You say you don't want to die, and I'm pretty sure you're not here to kill me unless you're a weirdo who likes chatting people up before you murder them," Michael looked up and winked at a camera, because that was he'd done to Camila, and also he was kinda paraphrasing Erika a little bit. He flopped the hood down. "I'm Michael Froese, I've won an award for being good at murder, and I've been an accessory to at least four murders during the past twenty-four hours. You and I both know there's a reason why you haven't left. I'm trying to figure out what that reason is."

[MK Kilmarnock]

Oh yeah, that was right, the announcements did say something about Michael receiving an award for the best kill. Justin found himself practically jealous at the thought of people actually being rewarded for their kills when he'd been nothing but punished for his. It didn't even matter what the reward was. It didn't need to help him. Some irrational part of him just wanted that recognition that he'd done something right, at least to somebody out there. And sure, he felt sick for realizing it too, but at least he'd figured out he was in good company by now.

Michael didn't strike Justin as the type to kill anybody. Wasn't it funny how that worked, though? People probably thought the same thing about him. He didn't remember from all the names if there was any blood on John's hands. It didn't matter, not after what Michael had just got done saying. Justin saw the slightest opportunity present itself and he thought he could at least use it to make an entrance. But he had to be wary about the gun.

There were unanswered questions. Or really, one unanswered question, needing multiple answers. One was from John. One was from Justin. Justin knew they weren't going to be the same reason, why they answered the call.

What was the real reason Michael called out to them anyhow? Justin could no longer convince himself that this was some call for death, especially when Michael was trying to use this... lapel deveed thing, this 'call of the void', Michael had helpfully named it with at least English words. Justin still didn't know what the hell it was, exactly.

Justin took a step out from behind the tree. He'd already factored in the leaves littering the ground; it would be impossible to make a completely silent approach. Even if John was scared by Michael and willing to play along if Justin tried to hold up a shushing finger as he envisioned himself doing, it only took a momentary shift of gaze, Michael could follow it and Justin would be sunk. Running at the boy would make far too much noise and that brought them back to the simple equation of gun > tire iron. Justin clenched his fist around the upper part of the weapon, near the bend, and rubbed it like a worry stone. He'd already taken a step. There were trees to duck behind if the gun became pointed. Stealth wasn't a worry because he wouldn't try to do something so pointless. Charging wasn't a worry because that was suicide.

No, that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that he thought he had something cool to say, and now that he'd stepped into line of sight of at least John, knowing Michael would be looking at him in a matter of moments...

He was drawing a complete and utter blank.

Shit.

[Primrosette]

Ah, so it's Michael, huh? I should have realized by his voice but my head is a mess right now. Oh boy.

"...What if I don't know the reason myself, Michael? You were the one who lured me here and I just followed your voice because it was beckoning me to you. Maybe I'm just a lost lamb on an island with thirsty wolves that want to feast on me? Also, am I supposed to be impressed that you murdered Camila? Am I supposed to be impressed that you were a part of other murders?" Jonathan said in a cold, calming tone of voice and he then shook his head a little. Instantly regretting that and he winced a little. "So you are a murderer.... So are many other students here, Michael. What makes you so special, huh?"

Jonathan knew that he was rambling on a bit and that he might have been a bit harsh with his choice of wording. But honestly, he didn't care in that moment and he just wished that Michael would get off of his high horse. And now he was seeing Justin Greene in the line of vision and Jonathan swore softly under his breath. Of course, of fricking course! Now he was stuck with two killers and the person who had wanted to find this guy was not with Jonathan. This meant that Jonathan had to do something about it.

"...Oh, hey, Justin." Jonathan said the other boy's name louder so that Michael could heard and he felt his grip on the rock tighten slightly. "I saw Meka last night and he's been looking for you. About what you did to his friend...."

Jonathan then raised the hand that was holding the rock and he threw it as hard as he could at Justin's head.

[Kermit]

Forest boy's justification was that he had no justification. Michael liked that justification. Forest boy called Michael a thirsty wolf. Michael laughed inwardly. He sure was a thirsty wolf.

He didn't like thinking about it.

What made him special?

He was killing for everyone except himself. He wasn't in love with the idea of not dying. He was just in love.

He stopped thinking about it.

He was killing because ???? l'appel du vide ???? he was in love with dying ????

"I'm not trying to impress you. I'm just, uh, trying to make it clear what you're getting yourself into here," he said before he was interrupted by Justin's name. He kicked one foot against the ground, propelling himself to a standing position with his back pressed against the tree. He peeled away from the tree, walked a few steps forward, and kicked a foot off the ground, sending him into a spin-pivot and briefly turning him into a fluttering flash of white robes. He dug his heel into the dirt to stop the spin at a satisfactory point and walked a few steps sideways to a position from where he could see both Justin and forest boy.

Forest boy was Jonathan Meyers. He was in choir, Michael was pretty sure.

Justin was Justin, because who else would Justin be? He, along with Benny, was one of the OG forest men — one of the OG party poopers. The last time Michael'd seen Justin, Beryl'd been alive. It seemed surreal to him, that he had memories of a time on the island when Beryl's existence wasn't posthumous. It had become the defining feature of his life; of him, even. He stopped thinking about it. Justin had murdered Benny. Camila had watched Benny die. Camila had been broken by watching Benny die. Michael had killed Camila because she had been broken by watching Benny die. In a roundabout way, Justin had killed Camila, like how Darlene had killed Jeremiah and Camila and Alexander and Bill and Katie and Saffron and Oliver and Tom.

Jonathan spoke, saying he'd seen Meka — the slam poetry kid — who was apparently looking to vengeance Justin up. Benny and Meka didn't seem like they ran in the same circles, and they hadn't run into each other on the island unless Meka'd been there when Benny died, so Michael guessed Jonathan was talking about Mackenzie.

Michael pointed the gun at Justin from his hip. He looked into Justin's eyes. His facial expression softened into a weary look of empathetic acknowledgement. He did not fire. He said the first thing he could think of. It was something Camila had told him.

"Benny didn't blame you."

As soon as he finished saying that, a flying rock suddenly entered his field of vision. Everything went to hell, as was tradition. Michael wasn't sure what was happening now! He stumbled a few steps backwards and aimed the gun, with both hands, in Justin and Jonathan's general direction.

He observed, idly.

[MK Kilmarnock]

Michael's reaction was pretty much to be expected. He whirled around and the gun lifted. Though it didn't come up past his hip, Justin wasn't about to wait around for it to be squared into a more practical position without placing something between themselves. Even if a regular run of the mill kid couldn't just fire from the hip like Clint Eastwood and hit the broad side of a barn beyond point-blank range, it was Justin's hide and he wasn't going to risk it over that wager. He was not a betting man and with his luck lately he couldn't afford to be.

It all worked out that he was in the midst of trying to dodge a theoretical bullet, because John... Jonathan? Johnny? John was in the process of hurling a rock at him. Justin put his entire body behind the tree and waited for the sound of the rock hitting the leaves. Meka looking for him was not a surprise. John having run into Meka and heard the tale directly, though that was, and he feared for a moment that maybe Meka was nearby and just hiding behind a tree like he had been doing. What a nasty surprise that would have been. Justin calmed himself, realizing that Meka couldn't have been here... from the sounds of it, he and John weren't traveling together, it was just easy to misinterpret what had been said. It was just John and Michael and himself. That was bad enough a situation to deal with considering the two of them had decided to turn against him, but at least Meka wasn't thrown into the mix with a personal vendetta to make things worse.

Michael's words reached him next.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnneat," Justin chirped, poking his head out from behind the tree to check on the status of that gun. What was he supposed to do with that information, that Benedict didn't blame him? The boy was dead all the same. Who knew if Mackenzie blamed him for what happened. It wouldn't change the past and it wouldn't have changed the outcome. It doesn't affect anything going forward, either, because Justin knew he was only doing what had to be done. That's all any of them were doing. Michael even admitted to killing just the same as him.

"Wuh, who..." Justin swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if that gun was going to follow him if he decided to inch over and pick up the rock John had generously hurled his way. He'd need to gauge Michael's mood just a little bit further. The guy obviously wasn't just shooting anybody who came near, or there wouldn't be two living people to deal with right now... just one. Little steps in logic will carry them all a big way. Don't lose your head, or you'll... uh, lose your head. "Wedda-huh-huh-weh... who'd you, uh, kill so far. I mean, like, who are all the kills, the kids you've killed," Justin stammered following the short vocalization just to get his lips moving. The ad-libbing of seemingly random noises before his question was the unfortunate end result of trying to sync up the words in his head and the words on his tongue, and it was a habit oft-repeated in class. The island only made it worse. Justin hadn't quite thought about whether that was because of the stress of the situation, or the fact that it was now the least important thing on his plate, provided he could eventually communicate his thoughts and questions.

He needed to know.

"All the deaths... like, on the announcements. They're hard to follow. Who'd YOU kill?"

[Primrosette]

Jonathan had missed with the rock.

Eh. He suspected that he would have with his lousy aim and because of his imbalance. He then saw Michael coming into view with his gun and Jonathan instantly found himself moving back out of view around the tree, feeling slightly sick at seeing the gun. He should just get out of there and never look back. Okay, but did he want to risk getting shot at by Michael of all people? No, he really didn't.

Then Justin spoke up about kills on the announcement and Jonathan wondered if Justin was asking them back about it. Jonathan didn't want to risk getting a bullet lodged into his skull and he didn't want to move just yet. He was just going to wait for Michael to ask and then he would have to do something. Right? Not attack Justin again as that had been a stupid move but whatever.

"...."

[Kermit]

Mkay so Justin and Jonathan both went and hid behind trees, which was disappointing but also not unexpected. Michael'd kinda wanted to see where the Jonathan vs. Justin thing was gonna go. He wanted to know what someone who'd been hurt emotionally by a murder would do to the person at fault.

Justin's head briefly poked out from behind the tree. Michael could have shot him. Neat, he said. It didn't sound like a genuine Neat. It was stretched out, like something you would say after someone said something weird. Justin didn't care that Benny didn't blame him. Michael remembered, back on the first day, Justin had said that he didn't want everyone to hate him.

Guess Justin'd lost his conscience.

Michael listened as Justin stuttered. Deja vu. It was interesting, sort of, Michael's journey so far had been almost symmetrical. Okay maybe there was some superfluous stuff in the middle but like, if it was a sandwich, the bread would be pointing guns at Justin, stuff with dead Beryl, singing and doing drugs, hanging out with a murderer, and almost-but-not-quite being killed by Nia. He wasn't sure where the center point was, but he was sure it was in there somewhere!

He'd met every BKA winner except Blaise. That was sure something.

He hoped Lori was doing okay with Claude. He hoped she'd found happiness. He hoped Morgan was doing okay. He hoped he'd found Lizzie. He hoped he'd given up on Michael. He hoped Nia was doing okay. He hoped she wasn't dwelling on what he'd said about Jeremiah. He hoped Nick and Marco were doing okay. He was pretty sure they were doing okay; they hadn't been on any more announcements.

Was Justin still talking? Justin was still talking. Said he was having trouble following the announcements. Asked who Michael killed.

Oh. Right. Because Michael was a murderer. It was all he was now.

His face hardened. Gun aimed at Justin's tree. Voice quick, automatic. Reading a script. "Camila Cañizares. She and Benny were a thing, at some point. She watched him die. It broke her. You should have seen her eyes. Fuck you, Justin. Her eyes," his voice broke. Emotion bubbled over. Enough of that. Don't think about it. Don't think about her eyes. "I offered to shoot her and she didn't say no. Shot her in the gut. She asked me to. Simple and effective work, they said on the announcements. Made me sound like a goddamn robot."

He'd kind of forgotten about Jonathan.

His voice seethed. "They lied."

[MK Kilmarnock]

"So she didn't s-say yes?" Justin asked. The wording was confusing, and suspect.

"S-S-So when you kill, when you killed, that's okay. You're a guoo-... a good guy, right? Is-is-is that it?" Justin stammered. "H-Hey, love to come closer but maybe if you PUT THE FUCKING GUN AWAY."

He was shaking. Thank goodness most of him was hidden by the tree to hide that little fact.