Man, Islands Suck
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:15 am
((Matt Moradi continued from here.))
Matt wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or where he was going right now.
He'd left Bart - at least, he thought he did - and the chance of joining up with a fairly friend bunch of people that didn't seem all too likely to murder each other at the drop of a hat. Sure, maybe he was something of an introvert, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially on this shitty fucking island. He should've been treating the jeep gang and their immediate lack of hostilities like manna from the fuckin' heavens.
He'd spent about a week on this island. He didn't figure that he would make it that long. Peering down the edge of the slopes - fuck, that could definitely kill someone. Fall the wrong way and you're just dead. Maybe it'd be better that way, he thought to himself. Fall the wrong way, you live, and you're in for a world of fucking hurt. Was that luck? No, he thought. That's not luck.
So many dead so far. He wasn't counting but he estimated it must've been at least fifty something dead so far. Tomorrow it could be Ben, Nate, Bart - who knew? He'd heard Alan's name over the announcements.
That kind of made him laugh. He wasn't going to lie. And hey, at least Alan died doing something noble. Killing Isabel Ramirez. That was definitely something worth dying for, he thought. Killing a real piece of shit like her. He only had to wonder how she felt. Like, oh shit! Maybe I just made a mistake attacking all these fucking people?
What a fucking idiot.
He kicked a rock down the slopes and watched it go. Then he left.
((Matt Moradi continued somewhere else.))
Matt wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or where he was going right now.
He'd left Bart - at least, he thought he did - and the chance of joining up with a fairly friend bunch of people that didn't seem all too likely to murder each other at the drop of a hat. Sure, maybe he was something of an introvert, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially on this shitty fucking island. He should've been treating the jeep gang and their immediate lack of hostilities like manna from the fuckin' heavens.
He'd spent about a week on this island. He didn't figure that he would make it that long. Peering down the edge of the slopes - fuck, that could definitely kill someone. Fall the wrong way and you're just dead. Maybe it'd be better that way, he thought to himself. Fall the wrong way, you live, and you're in for a world of fucking hurt. Was that luck? No, he thought. That's not luck.
So many dead so far. He wasn't counting but he estimated it must've been at least fifty something dead so far. Tomorrow it could be Ben, Nate, Bart - who knew? He'd heard Alan's name over the announcements.
That kind of made him laugh. He wasn't going to lie. And hey, at least Alan died doing something noble. Killing Isabel Ramirez. That was definitely something worth dying for, he thought. Killing a real piece of shit like her. He only had to wonder how she felt. Like, oh shit! Maybe I just made a mistake attacking all these fucking people?
What a fucking idiot.
He kicked a rock down the slopes and watched it go. Then he left.
((Matt Moradi continued somewhere else.))