There's No Fun in Playing Cowboys for Pretend

[Cake]

((Luke Mendoza Continued From: Monkey on My Back))

Back to the beginning. Luke was back at the only safe haven he had all day. Nothing had happened here. This was "home" - in the Program at least.

The room, in this administration building, that he woke up in earlier, was the same as he'd left it. It was untouched and quiet in here, the charm he threw was still there, the ceiling fan spinning at a slow pace. In fact the travel here was almost too quiet, for what was supposed to be happening. He didn't run into anyone since Alex Thornton at the gate. Where was everyone? Were they all grouped together, in one area or building, or something? Not that Luke minded, as the probabilty of people killing each other in those big groups were pretty darn good. Heck, the quiet could mean that alot of the other students were already dead, making Luke another step closer to going home. Real home that is. If he won this thing wouldn't that mean he would? He wasn't sure. Wasn't sure what happened to the winners of this horrible game.

Several hours had passed, with Luke alone in this office. The doors to the room were secured so Luke felt safe. If not he had an ax and a revolver nearby, so no problem. He had already eaten during this wait. Filled up well, with the doubled supplies from Logan Sorenson's pack. Dinner wasn't very good, with a gross pouch of chicken, from one of his two MRE's, a cold watery pouch of instant soup, and some crackers. But it was something at least, something he needed. The only decent thing was the brownie packed in, for dessert. He had also gone through a couple liters of water to replenish and rehydrate himself, and also to wash out much of the horrible taste from his mouth. The only time Luke got out was to use the restroom, due to drinking all that water, and to puke cause of the alcohol, disgusting food and bad memories. He had also had the convenience of a quick nap in the same desk he had sat yesterday, where Sor, first found him here.

Sor - she gave him direction in this game. Before she appeared, Luke was on the verge of breaking down, losing his mind. And for the first time since the beginning, without Sor, without anybody, he was... Alone.

And now he was lost once more. His inner voice, making him crazy, taunting him, like before. He needed to find people now. Other people were the best thing that could snap Luke out of this quiet madness. He couldn't take this crap anymore.

He pressed the revolver against his head.

Again Luke?

It was that inner voice again. Luke readied the gun's hammer, unlike before, he had more than one bullet in it this time.

Go ahead... "Mr. Chill." Show everyone how pathetic you are. I give up on you. Your mom probably did too...

Shut up! Shut up!

Not even following what Sor said either huh? What a failure.

Luke slammed the gun onto the desk. What was wrong with him. He was giving up. He was a failure to both his mom, and Sor. He pulled out the small bottle of hard liquor from his pack, and took a swig. He had to start now, follow the steps that Sor wanted from him:

"First, don't let me... get you down. I want you to be the same cool handed Luke you've always been. Not any of those other bums, who let depression get the better of them. Got that?"

He was already messing that part up, but no more. He was gonna play how Sor wanted him to.

That freaking alcohol was messing with him. He already shot at Alex Thornton, because of it. He stuffed it back in, and took a sip of water to wash the taste away and remove that smell from his mouth. In fact, Luke had gone just about trigger happy recently. He fired his gun how many times already? He used up several bullets already, that was for sure. He reloaded the empty chambers of his gun. It was warm earlier, when he last used it to try and scare away Alex. Smoke had emitted from the barrel then, like in the old western movies. Luke spun the gun around in his hand and aimed it forward, making sure to show off to the camera. During the monotony, he had practiced for a bit, and he finally got it right. He felt like a cowboy.

But he was just playing cowboys for pretend, with that six shooter of his. Cowboys did alot more with a gun than just for show...

After all, just like he thought of when he first joined in on Sor's plan: In the back of his mind, Luke still knew, that the inevitable was the inevitable. Sooner or later, it might need to be done.

"Second... Luke... Try to stick to our plan, but... Raise some hell. Don't go getting yourself killed, but Raise some hell."

Game plan:

- Find some people, anyone to keep him from losing his mind.
- Stick to the basics of Sor's plan. Help along any others he could find, to do some of the dirty work.

The sun was starting to rise from the horizon, allowing some light to pass through the windows into the dark room. It was almost morning.

- He wasn't going to get killed.
- He was going to Raise some Hell.

Somehow.

((Luke Mendoza Continued to: Vioectrolysis ))

End of Chapter / Thread.