I'm only satisfied by the finer things in life like Rodarte and Margiela and making boys cry

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

With Angie's words, the hand of her imagination was forced.

A mercy kill. He asked for it. Meilin wondered if Chen would rather die than live to see the end. Poison- deadly one at that. She knew that Chen would rather die quickly than suffer for too long before passing, he said as much himself the one time they debated about euthanasia.

Her answer- no, no, no. She didn't want to think about her answer. She knew what it was now, what it was then, but-

But she didn't have to think. She didn't have to imagine. The probable results were in front of her.

Meilin wanted to turn around and forget she ever saw anything, but it wouldn't do any good, would it?

Ace put the gun away. In his own bag. Angie wasn't going to get that back- did it make it theft in plain sight or a confiscation? The petty part of her wanted to name it the former, at least to herself. Hardly the worst thing Ace did. She had to remind herself that being petty, even secretly, solved nothing, as Ace dug for his friend's body.

Then he broke down.

Immediately, any imagining and spitefulness paused themselves. She ran over and kneeled in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Ace, I-"

She didn't know what to say. I'm sorry? I love you? Those didn't mean anything helpful. In the end all she could do was look on with a worried expression, which occasionally darted over to look at Angie. She needed comfort too, but-

Well, it wasn't like she- okay, even if she didn't quite forgive Ace, she still- even if he- maybe it's because he never-

Maybe there was no explanation for why seeing Ace cry hurt her to see.

[Melusine]

The two people who cared the most about Ramsey were together, becoming one with the tears they were shedding. There wasn't anything they could say or do that would change the situation. Perhaps it was for the best since the madness of men and women like them would only make their fates worse, but in this instant, Angie had never felt more alone.

Killing a part of her was probably the reason. Something about her thoughts telling her that they should have swapped places, that he should have been the one to kill her, that he should have been the one to have a chance to make it out. She felt sick. Ace looked sick. Meilin looked like Meilin, so it was nice to see at least once person had it together in this situation..

Ace unburied Ramsey. This would raise more questions than answers to which she didn't know how to respond to.

The first one being: Angie, what the fuck?

Exactly. She couldn't comment on it. It was the same thought she was having. What in the fuck happened here? Was she even here? She wasn't even sure she did it at this point. It just felt she was seeing reality through a fog. The drowning sensation was still present, but it was overshadowed by this oppressive feeling of vagrancy. She was somewhere she didn't belong, somewhere that wasn't hers, a body that didn't belong to her. She simply had wandered in this situation and suddenly she was Angie. If she could remember who she was before, perhaps she would be able to find some type of closure. Something along the lines of solving a mystery, but there wasn't any mystery to solve or monsters to catch. As they came from within, the only person she could blame was herself.

Meilin tried to speak to Ace. He was broken, now. Angie had broke him without even hurting him. It made her feel sick. She sniffed and reached out for his arm. She squeezed his free hand. That was the only thing she could do. She closed her eyes. If thoughts could kill, Angie would be no more.

[Buko]

"Tha-that's my brother Mei, tha-tha-that's my fruh-fruh-friend," he said between gasps and sighs, "He's gone. My friend is dead--and I-I-I wasn't here for him."

He felt his eyes burn and snot come from his nose.

And then he felt a hand on his own, Angie's and he had hated her before or he had been angry with her, but seeing Ramsey and--touching Ramsey had put him into a hectic state. He was dead. He had begged for death and she had killed him--he had been dying since day 2. In pain. And what was he doing? Fucking Ivy? He should've been a hurricane on this island, a hero, a fuckin' soldier, a goddamn man! HIS FRIEND WAS DEAD! And Ace hadn't even been there to say goodbye. What kinda man was he? None at all, just a little boy in the body of one.

This stung more than Dante, this stung more than Toby--he had yet to see the concrete, corpsey proof of their fate.

He had wanted to hate Angie, he had wanted to be angry at her. But what he really felt was jealousy and guilt. Guilt that he wasn't there for Ramsey in his final moments, jealous that Angie had been. Guilty that she had to do the unthinkable. If Ace had been there, he would've done Rams in, he wouldn't have let him suffer. No way. It was wrong for a sister to kill a brother. He would've done right by Rams--it wasn't putting him down like a dog. She strangled her brother. How much pain could he have been in to ask his sister to do that? Angie shouldn't have been forced to carry that burden--Ace had failed Ramsey by being too late.

Ace was a bad friend for letting this happen.

"I-I-I luh-luh-luhved your bruh-bruh-brother Ange," he said looking at her and gripping her hand back, he was a blubbering mess, "I-I-I shoulda been here Ange, I'm sorry Ange, it ain't your fault--I shoulda been here! I'm sorry! It ain't your fault! You didn't gotta do this shit! I'm sorry!"

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

As the scene unfolded before her, Meilin pulled her hand away.

Angie and Ace were together in their grief and all she could think of was what happened with Ivy? Well that's how Ivy would say it started, wouldn't it? They were together in fear and grief.

Meilin wasn't there. She wasn't here either- not in the right way.

She wanted to be there.

She wondered...

Meilin walked over to the collection of branches that collapsed on themselves.

She saw.

She looked back to the other two. Walked back to them. Meilin would never understand the bond they both had with Ramsey could she? But she could imagine. That wasn't the same and she didn't deserve to comfort either of them- not when her first reaction had been-

The tears flowed. This time, Meilin didn't try to stop it.

[Melusine]

It was the type of situation that made Angie feel totally disconnected from her peers. The moment that Ace started crying, Angie stopped. It was also a clockwork reaction. It was as if any energy she once had was transferred to him, and now she could only look at him.

She still had her grief, her sadness, the pain in her heart; but Ace was now the subject in the limelight. It was an automatic response to human suffering, a clear dissociation between herself and the situation.

It was comforting to see someone else suffer. She knew wasn't insane to think so, everyone was like that. Seeing others hurt was a way to find validation in these situations, and Ace was playing the role of weeper.

Angie wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She moved her other hand over to Ace's shoulder and she pressed him against her in a firm embrace. She nodded as Ace blabbered. It was his turn. It was her turn. She quietly nodded. Angie knew it was her fault. She had slipped, she had let go of control.

There was a rift between Angie and Ace. Where Ramsey once filled it, there was now a skin tight bond. She was still panting from her crying fit but she tried to speak. She didn't know what to say. She knew she was supposed to talk, but whatever script she was now following was off the rails. She had to improvise.

"He loved you," she looked away. Meilin was also crying. She looked like she had seen worse. Angie turned back to Ace. She already had that conversation. "He loved you so much, man. This- this isn't your fault. It's- it's not our fault."

She wished words could convince her.

[Buko]

And for a moment he lost himself in grief with Angie and Meilin and he sobbed and he screamed and he did an excellent job of covering Angie’s top and lap in his snot and his tears.

And it felt good to cry for a minute—maybe two.

But out here when the days felt like months, he needed more than two minutes of respite. He knew that already—the whole fuckin’ world knew that already.

Que pena Aceito, you can't run and cry and do everything but face the truth forever. It ain't 'bout escape, it never has been.

What it 'bout then?

You know, you've known for awhile.

He sucked his shit up, snorted and wiped his face with his sleeve and licked the salt and muck from his upper lip. He separated himself from Angie and brought his hands to Ramsey’s eyes and closed them. He kissed his dead friend five times, once on both cheeks and thrice on his puffed up red forehead. He tasted the death and the dirt.

He covered him again, quickly, haphazardly, bout as good as Angie had done. His hands were dirty and his face muddy--he looked utterly defeated, but an ember of rage and tenacity laid beneath the surface of his green eyes. He took a deep breath and then stood up and stood tall.

What's it 'bout?

“Well,” he said weakly, “We gotta move forward,” he said not believing it, “Rams wouldn’t want us cryin’ doin’ nothin’—that ain’t how it’s gonna go down, fuck that and fuck this.”

Bout that action, bout that action, bout that action…

“Rams you fuck, you weren’t allowed to die out here, we were gonna get rescued, lay low, ride it the fuck out,” he was mumbling to himself, “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck this waitin’ bullshit, fuck it fuckin’ all.”

And how fucked up was this Eureka moment? His synapses acting like lightning and were equally enlightening and for the first time in four days, something resembling a plan hit him.

“Alright, okay, alright, okay…,” he said to himself, going to his bag and unzipping it, grabbing the map and the two remaining smoke bombs, he tossed them in Angie’s direction, they landed with an unceremonious plop on the ground, “I gotsa a muthafuckin’ plan Ange, I know how we gonna take on the next few days, fuck this shit. I'm getting you home. I'm gettin' us all the fuck home. For fuckin' Rams.”

Confidence, whether an illusion or not, whether false or true, whether honest or bullshit—it meant something. Fake it till you make it.

The image of Ramsey’s face in his head.

The taste of his face on his lips.

Better false confidence than honest defeat.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Everyone cried.

Meilin was being so petty- that part of her was at knifepoint, to its neck, to end its blabbering.

She heard that Ramsey loved Ace, and she believed it. That other part of her attempted to speak.

It was already at knifepoint- it had to end.

A gurgling noise in the back of her brain, a last pang of instinctual possessiveness, it had to leave. Maybe it was seeing Ace's righteous anger. Anger at the world. Anger that kindled confidence, and it reminded her, that's what I love abo-

But with one last hoarse gasp for air, that part of her proved it would come back.

Meilin was breathing heavily, too. Sobbing, it really robbed you of your air.

Ace said he would get them all home, and she so desperately wanted to believe he could. For Ramsey. As for her? If she could help it, she wouldn't leave her brother behind either. It was clear Angie was pushed to extremes, and it ruined her. She was sure that if she was lost, it would ruin Chen. Maybe it already did. But he could recover from losing her life- what would truly ruin him is if she lost herself too, or rather the her that Chen looked up to. The her that Chen asked for advice, the her that Chen shared his own beginning writings and secrets with.

If that's what it took to drown out what she didn't like about herself, then she would fill herself with that same righteous anger. At the terrorists. At the world. At the ocean between herself and her brother. At herself, if it came to that.

But not towards them.

Even if Ivy turned killer she knew it would be the i-

She knew it wouldn't be-

Hah.

It was going to be harder than she thought. But she would cut that part out of her, whatever it took. Maybe it was less about leaving the island, and more about keeping herself.

But that was always a part of her, wasn't it?

Meilin took a deep breath in, and gripped the haladie a bit tighter as she wiped away the remaining teardrops from her face.

"We'll make it," she promised more to herself, less to her own body and the others in the vicinity. "We'll make it."

[Melusine]

"Make it?"

Her throat squeezed familiarly. Her body had cried all the tears she had in her body. Instead, just absently stared at Meilin. There wasn't any anger or sadness in her gaze, simply curiosity.

There was nothing that could be made on this island. Everything that was created before or during their time here was bound to be destroyed whether by time or by others. Angie knew that. She assumed Meilin also knew that. They had spent four days on this island that seemed to be longer than their entire lives combined. What was there to make other than suffering?

"What do you mean?" She wasn't argumentative. Angie had shed her defenses. They were still ready to go up, but after spending a lifetime shielding her, they finally decided to take a break.

"How can we 'make it'?" There's nothing waiting for us."

She wiped her face. It was sweaty and it hurt. Her face was painful from squinting for so long.

"What can we do? There's nothing, there's," she trailed off. She just wanted to wake up.

[Buko]

He was in constant search of the familiar and this was a feeling that was not all together un.

It went back to football because it always did.

He recalled a game earlier in the year, the team down by multiple possessions and devoid of hope or fight. The coach was ripping into them and all Ace felt was tired. Not physically, just emotionally and mentally. He didn’t like being tired. He wanted to fight and feel good and free and totally at peace with his situation and ready for what came, it’s probably why he sought comfort with Ivy, it’s probably why he missed her. Now especially.

It had been easy to rely on Ivy and then Connor and then Ivy—but it was hard to be relied on in the unspoken way Meilin relied on him. Not in the physical carrying your shit way, but in the mental keeping your shit together way. To be trustworthy, to be noble, to be strong…

He looked at Mei filled with hope and Angie filled with desperation. He thought of that football game and how tired he was.

He put the team on his back that day and on his shoulders he took them to the precipice of victory. He earned a scholarship, not because of his speed, but because of his tenacity and determination. The football field was so far away but he still felt that tenacious and determined man poking out—if only he could overcome the scared little boy he had tricked himself into believing was him.

He had to kill the boy and let the man be born. He owed that to Meilin, to Angie—to Ramsey. He had to be a man and do what was right…

And he knew what that had meant when he heard LeBlanc had beat up Ivy. When Tirzah had killed Toby and again afterwards. With Blaise. With Kelly. When push came to shove, could he do what needed to be done? Or was he just a coward? Sitting back waiting to die and watching his friends get picked off one by one.

Fuck that and fuck this.

“What do we do? Nah, what do you do, you take my smoke bombs and at the first sign of trouble you throw them bitches and fuckin’ run, Ramsey died and you killed him, the cake’s been baked there, but you don’t gotta kill again and he didn't die just to have you kill yourself or anybody else. You don't gotta kill again—you just gotta make it to the end.”

He nodded, feeling his own voice and confidence swell.

“We make it to the end together, we call their bluff and we force ‘em to negotiate with us or pop us off and we go out like martyrs. They wanna see how far we go to go home? Let’s show ‘em how far we go to go home together, they want war? Let’s give ‘em war—startin’ with fuckin’ Kelly, then Tirzah, then that bitch Blaise…”

He grumbled…

“The point being any murdering prick can get it and anybody that fucks with them. They gotta problem with it? The only reason I ain’t dropping a pin on their bitch ass is because they jacked my phone. I ain't scared of nobody but myself out here and I am done actin' like it.”

He thought of Rams of Dante of Toby…

“Imma about to be on some real murder shit and I dunno where that path takes me, but quite frankly, I don’t care anymore, I know where not taking it puts me: doing jack shit, crying like a fuckin two year old—fuck this and fuck that. I don’t give a fuck anymore, I really don’t.”

He gasped and breathed in deep,

“All I care bout is protecting my people,” he said finally, “And killin the people who killed them. That’s it. Fuck errythin' else.”

He felt like a psychopath, like he was living a rap song or crime drama. He never understood the desire for murderous vengeance, it always seemed dramatic or misguided.

Comprehension was worthless in comparison to catharsis.

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

From saying Angie had another chance, to murder and revenge for Ace's own self. Meilin simply listened as he ranted at Angie.

They go out like martyrs? Fine by her, at the very least. Killing a killer?

Would Meilin be able to kill? She would find out soon enough.

There was the feeling that Meilin wouldn't like the answer when she got there, but maybe they'd all been hiding from themselves and she was no exception. But she knew who she was before, and had no reason to think she'd been lying to herself back then, or was she? That girl who liked parties and not drinking, that girl who was always there to lend a helping hand.

She knew what she wanted to be here, in that vague sense. After all, she knew her brother was too much of a worrier, too curious, to never lay his eyes on the feeds. It would take time for sure- weeks at the earliest, years at the latest- but it would happen.

So ultimately, it didn't matter if she was lying to herself from the start, and only stopped when she pulled a knife on her own boyfriend. She just had to keep doing that to the end, and maybe it would end up being genuine, but if it did, it would be to her own benefit only.

What she was sure of, was that was never going to happen again. No more bullshit, not like that. Protecting their people, that was a straightforward mission statement.

All she had to do was focus on that.

She walked over to Ace and put her hand on his shoulder. This time she didn't demand an explanation from herself.

"You're going to war, I'm going to war," she quietly echoed.

[Melusine]

War?

What war? Usually war involved multiple sides that all want a similar thing, whether is it financial or political earnings. Without a doubt, this looked similar, but Angie didn't quite feel like this was war. Even the term "civil war" didn't sound right in this situation, especially when you looked at the participants. Yes, there was fighting and killing and suffering, but that wasn't what gave war its name. If anything, the war that was described was more the relationship between the captors and their victims.

Basically, calling it war didn't sit right with Angie. Revenge was more like it. She wasn't above seeking revenge, however calling it 'war' to make it sound better just didn't work. It didn't work because Angie didn't like it. Mei and Ace were trying to fit two puzzles pieces that didn't fit together, and Angie had to bite her tongue to not call it out.

Her fingers dug in the mud. She calmed her breathing. There was one thing she knew that was a fact, and it was her feelings.

"Can-," her throat hurt. A lot. "Can we bury him?"

She didn't say 'again'.

[Buko]

Meilin’s actions and words surprised him—but perhaps they shouldn’t have.

A lifetime ago in a hallway far far away he had admired her dedication to self with an almost religious reverence. Meilin didn’t feel pressure, Meilin didn’t feel the need to be anyone but herself. He had betrayed and hurt her and she still remained by his side in his moment of grief. Ready to face the world with him, ready to go to war.

He didn’t deserve her, not in that lifetime and certainly not in this one.

And yet she stood by him and lifted him up and gave him confidence when he needed it and…she was a shoulder to cry on and a person to rely on. That’s what made her relying on him tough. Meilin was too real and her needs too honest. She saw right through Ace and she did it without even intending or trying.

His resolve melted to her touch and he responded to her declaration the way teenage boys (or at least him in specific) responded to anything—he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. Quick and innocent, like the picture perfect image their short lived relationship should’ve been. Until he fucked it up. Until this whole situation fucked it up. He tasted the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her soul, he swallowed his shame and his sadness. He was grateful he finally had Meilin by his side, he felt silly for ever doubting her worth or making her do the same.

“Thu-thank you Mei,” he sputtered staring at her, that heroic and vengeful resolve gone with the wind-- Ace was only ever consistently inconsistent, “You’re a good girl and a good friend, I don’t deserve you, really. Just, y'know,” the smoothest man alive: Ace Beats, "I won't let you down again," he took a deep breath, "Promise. Pinky style."

Of course Angie took him out of whatever love fest he had placed himself in and Ace felt guilty for letting himself get caught up in the moment (what else was new?). He broke his embrace with Mei and nodded towards Ange.

Bury Ramsey. For real, not some half ass shit.

“You right Ange,” he said finally, “We gotta give him a proper burial, proper funeral, the whole thing—we’re Latin, it only makes sense to turn a wake into a twenty-four hour thing.”

He paused…

“We bury our brother and tonight we celebrate and grieve for him—we cry, we laugh, we tell stories, we sing his favorite songs…we do right by Rams,” he considered his next words, “What’s meant for us won’t miss us and what misses us wasn’t meant for us, we handle biz tonight and we take care of business tomorrow.”

He took a breath…

“Let’s find a spot then.”

[BlizzardeyeWonder]

Heaven in hell on Earth- together in grief and anger and all those things. That's how it should have been, wasn't it?

Meilin found herself leaning into the kiss, the embrace, a surprise but not unwelcome.

Ace made a promise, again. Maybe she had more faith in it this time, but why? Because it was sworn over his dead best friend?

Well, it basically was.

It reminded her their time was short- Ace probably realized that just now too.

Might as well be the best man you can be while you still had the time and opportunity.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Angie asked for a burial, and Ace extended it into a wake. Yeah, that seemed about right- she remembered seeing the other girl's body, mangled out in the open... Ramsey, even if he was somewhat covered he and his friends deserved something better than that.

She nodded. War could wait.

[Melusine]

Angie had stopped crying. She was glad. She hated the noises she was making and the repetitive motion of sniffing and sneezing. She didn't know crying hurt that badly. It felt like she had scrapped her face against gravel then sprayed salt in her wounds. She felt raw as she had flayed herself. She was defenseless, weak, small in a terrifying world that was about to crush her but she wasn't crying.

Whatever anchors she's had from her previous life as a high school student and sister was gone. She knew for a fact she couldn't go back anymore, no amount of crying and fighting could change what she had done. Angie knew she had to go forward, one way or the other. It was like throwing a speck of light through the galaxy, hoping that one day, someone in need would find it.

"My brother really liked Matthew 6:25-34."

She got up and she crossed her arms. They were clearly not digging a hole. They didn't have a shovel or anything they could use to make a half-decent grave. Where Ramsey was where he was staying, and his body would be crystalized there. There wasn't much to do or say, she grabbed a couple of twigs. As she hugged them, she twirled toward the others.

"Do you know it Ace? Mei?"

[Buko]

For once he thought of track instead of football.

Maybe that was on purpose.

Maybe he hadn’t thought of track because thinking about the track team meant thinking about how he was the only one alive left on the trip.

Maybe death had a funny way of bringing those things up.

He thought of track because one of the things he loved about it was that he didn’t have to think about it. He could rarely trust his mind and he was often filled with fear and doubt and forced to use that fear as fuel simply as a tool for survival. Put on a smile, step forward! Bad shit happens to good people all the time and that’s the thing about life—it just keeps going!

What a crock of shit.

But that’s why he liked track—because when paralyzed with doubt at least he knew he was fast.

The least he could do for Ramsey was take solace in and be a active participant in his burial. Ace wished he had kerosene or Ivy’s gallon of bleach. He would’ve taken it from her—poured it on the mound of branches and light it on fire. Bleach was flammable, right? It didn’t matter. Ivy would’ve given him her weapon no question right? I mean, she gave it up alright, sure. What the fuck?! He wasn't right for that one. He was already mad at himself for wasting time thinking about Ivy right now after kissing Meilin, while burying Ramsey. That was the type of dude he was, wasn't it? It was fucked up and so was this situation and so was he most of all.

He couldn't afford to think about Ivy, not when he was burying Ramsey and Meilin was ready to go to war with him and standing by his side. Fuck Ivy, really. How crazy and fucked up was this whole shit for him to have been driven to her in the first place? Fucking Ivy--what made him think that was a good idea? Just look at how shit had gone down.

He had offered Ivy protection and she had rejected it.

He had defended her to Meilin.

He had protected her for days.

He had given her all he had to give.

Shit he hadn’t given to anyone else and would never give to anyone else.

Shit Meilin had deserved.

And she had walked away like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

She and Ramsey hated each other.

He laughed to himself, he couldn’t say that out loud, but he wanted desperately to tell his best friend his escapades from the night before. He could imagine Rams declaring him unclean and making fun of him—what Ace would do to be roasted by his buddy. That was male friendship at it’s core, huh?

I miss you already buddy.

They finished their work—there was power in ritual. He finished a duty to his dead friend—and there was honor and love in duty.

Speaking of which, Angie asked him if he knew some scripture—he wasn’t particularly religious and he was a bit jealous of those who were. Faith was useful. He could’ve used a God to turn to. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Nah, I dunno.”

And if Angie was disappointed in that, she didn’t show it.

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Yeah, that sounded like Rams for sure.

“What brought me and your brother together was music,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Hip-Hop, I got some recordings of him on my computer,” he acknowledged right now that his Mom was watching this, “I hope if they look at my computer they find ‘em, I hope they release ‘em,” he said simply, “We used to say there was a rap line for everythin’ and I guess I gotta believe it: they got this joint Aquemini,” he laughed again, “When me and Rams talked about ‘Kast I wanted him to be a Gemini so much so we could call our first album Aquemini 2 or some dumb shit.”

He smiled…

“Even the sun goes down
Heroes eventually die
Horoscopes often lie
and sometimes "why"
Nuthin' is for sure
Nuthin' is for certain
Nuthin' lasts forever
But until they close the curtain
It's him and I”

He nodded.

“Rest easy brother.”

~~~

He had been lucky to not having been alone the last four days, he was as close to well rested as he could’ve been. He hadn’t slept as he kept watch for the girls and they tried to, even when he would trade shifts with Angie or Mei, he didn’t go to sleep. He didn’t want too. Sleep meant it was real.

The announcements were the reminder that another day had come and gone.

And the announcements came and went.

He tried his best to listen to them intently, with more intention than he had the last two days. A song echoed in the corner of his heart, the name of killers, done to the song Aquemini.

He held the BR-18 like he knew what he was doing. He and Angie had traded for realsies during the night, he had given her all his smoke bombs, she the ammo. She trusted him, she trusted him with a weapon, her weapon—or she understood his want for it and didn’t have any desire to fight him on it.

He was ready to fight though and this was a weapon to fight with. But he had only shot at squirrels and birds. Fired a .22 and a paintball gun a handful of times. It didn’t look like it took much to kill with this thing though, just spray and pray.

He didn’t want the irony of not being good at prayer pointed out.

“Well, we know the plan if shit goes down,” he said calmly, “We drop the smoke bomb and we split up, we scatter and keep running, we wait two hours and then we circle back, we wait another two hours and if we still ain’t all back together by then—we go to another one of our spots that we picked on the map,” he said like it was obvious, “If that place is dangerous, we go to option B, if that place is fucked up we go with option C, if Option C is shit we go with option D and if it gets to Option E, we just accept that we F’d and we wait out the day and cycle again.”

He nodded.

“But the goal is to stick together, I got your back, you got my back, you go to war, we go to war together, one for all and all for one, clear eyes, full hearts—can’t lose,” platitudes and clichés, but weren’t those often such for a reason, “Y’all girls feel me or what?”

He hoped they believed him.

He hoped he believed him.