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It's not like its for real or anything, right?; Open
Topic Started: Nov 6 2011, 04:27 PM (4,015 Views)
Pippin
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((Oh fuck, didn’t realise how close to inactivity I was))

To Amelia’s immense relief, Martha seemed to agree with her plan. She hadn’t been overly sure whether it was a good idea or not, so a reassuring voice was very welcome. Trevor was, again, silent. Amelia couldn’t help but feel as if the guy was silently judging her. She wasn’t sure why, but his generally cold attitude towards her was... kinda unsettling.

As Amelia was waiting for Bruce to answer, Martha moved closer to her, and started whispering something.

“If the gun turns out to be real try and remain calm.”

Ooh, yeah, that’s right. Guns are loud and shit, yeah. Amelia had never fired a gun before. She’d never seen anyone fire one before, hadn’t even been in close proximity to someone firing a gun before. The closest she’d come to hearing a gun being fired was in some old-ish western movie she’d watched, not too long before this “trip”, now she thought about it. She was pretty certain that, even if it was fake, the gun would be loud, but Martha was right. If they didn’t stay calm, they were going to get nowhere with Bruce and Harper.

“Don’t you worry.” Amelia whispered back, a faint smile creeping onto her face. “Like I’d be scared of some rifle type dealy.”

Suddenly, for the first time since her whole “birds” comment, Harper spoke up. Unlike Martha, she didn’t seem to think the plan was a good idea. Amelia looked over at her, one eyebrow raised. She was a little annoyed at Harper’s comment. Jeez, it’d have been okay if you’d said why you don’t like the plan, don’t just throw out your opinion then run away. God, just... calm, Amelia. Calm.

Amelia lowered her eyebrow and sighed, although her face still had a look of annoyance on it. She ran her left hand through her hair, before speaking to Harper. “Look, I know that there are probably a number of better plans out there, but we need to do something, and I think this is the easiest way. If you’ve got any better ideas, just say ‘em, okay?”
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Seeing nowhere else to go, Trevor made the effort to stick with his group. It seemed like it was gonna be a bit before Bruce decided on whether or not to shoot the gun, so might as well figure out an escape route. Quietly, he tapped Amelia on the shoulder.
"If that thing's real, I don't think all of our daypacks combined would get it off his hands..." he whispered. "Plus who knows, maybe he's got other plans..."
It wasn't often that Trevor got paranoid, but this was different. There was a boy with a gun. A boy that could very well put a bullet into each of their heads.
"Let's just hope he's not murderous."
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(I cannot stress how sorry I am for putting this off for so long)

"Wait, uh, are you saying that this Sherriff person gave you a fake gun or something?"

"Uh... Yeah? I mean, you don't seriously think any of this is real, right?"

Bruce was genuinely confused at first. After all, surely nobody would believe that they were in any actual danger or anything. For one, who the heck would dump sixty or so kids into the middle of the desert kill each other? The fact that they were right in the centre of the USA was enough to convince Bruce that this was nothing more than an elaborate prank. If this WAS for real, surely the FBI or the CIA or whatever would have found them by now.

Who the heck would want to watch a bunch of kids actually killing each other anyway? That was just messed up. Sure, there might be a couple of sick bastards who would get a kick out of this, but enough to fund an elaborate game set in the middle of the midwest? Nope, Bruce wasn't buying it. Not for one second. But from the looks of things, everyone else seemed convinced that they really were in a life or death situation. Either they were all in on the gag, or they really did believe that some asshat had dropped them all in the middle of the desert and expect them to kill each other gladiator style.

In any case, they seemed to all to be keen on the idea of him testing the gun out on a nearby wagon, quite happily discussing it amongst themselves without giving him the chance to answer himself. Well, if it'll convince them that this is whole "Survival of the Fittest" thing is total bull, then sure. Why not?

"Well, if it'll make you all happy..." he said, aiming his rifle in the direction of the nearest wagon.

As he readied himself to pull the trigger, a mischievous thought suddenly came to mind. If they DID genuinely believe that this was real, and that the gun Bruce held in his hands was also the real deal... Then what was stopping him from taking advantage of their gullibility? Oh man, I REALLY shouldn't do that... Ah, what the hell, it's not like I'll ever get another chance.

On that note, just as he was supposedly about to pull the trigger, he quickly turned towards the others instead and aimed the rifle in their direction.

"BANG!" he yelled at the top of his voice, shortly before he began to erupt with laughter.

"AHAHAHAHAHahahahaaa... God, sorry about that, I just couldn't help myself. But MAN, you should have seen your faces! I've never seen anyone react so-OHSHIT!"

It was at that point that Bruce's finger slipped and accidentally pulled the trigger.
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"Like I'd be scared of some rifle type dealy."

Martha smiled. They weren't in any danger and were getting their confidence back. Bruce wasn't likely to put a bullet in them just because he had a gun. Trevor was slightly nervous though.

"If that thing's real, I don't think all of our daypacks combined would get it off his hands..."

Martha shook her head. "We aren't going to trade him for it. We'll invite him and Harper to join us. It's safer that way, no one's going to mess with five people especially when one has a gun." Trevor still didn't seem too confident but he was looking at it from a different perspective. One of trading. Which wasn't the plan at all.

"Well, if it'll make you all happy..."

Martha watched as Bruce prepared to shoot the wagon. They were out of the way so the plan seemed safe. Unless the gun misfired then Bruce could be in trouble. She watched the rifle, what was about to happen was going to change the whole tone of their meeting whether the gun was real or not.

Suddenly Bruce turned towards them.

"BANG!"


Martha flinched and turned her head away. She didn't have time to be scared. Then she heard Bruce laughing.

"AHAHAHAHAHahahahaaa... God, sorry about that, I just couldn't help myself. But MAN, you should have seen your faces! I've never seen anyone react so-

Martha didn't hear the rest as she was suddenly on the ground looking at the sky. She knew she was hurt but the force of her fall made it difficult to figure out where she hurt the most. As the pain in her back died down she felt a burning pain around her stomach. She managed to push herself onto her elbows and what she saw didn't look good. There was a pool of blood spreading out from around her. Her vision started to blur as soon as she saw the blood. She remembered being trapped in the car following the crash watching her blood drip onto the sets as she was helpless. She had promised herself never to end up in a situation like that again, but Bruce had ruined all that. Martha lay back down and looked at the sky, it was such a contrast to the blood around her, while it was dark and red the sky was light and blue. She felt her body start to go numb and the sky started to fade away.

I'm not going to die. I'm going to survive. I'm going to survive. I'm going to survive. I'm going to survive.

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Harper shrieked, jumping a bit into the air. She clutched her chest, panting heavily, and glared at the boy who had just yelled. "Bruce!"

What part of that was even remotely funny? Harper rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Okay, so maybe this had turned out better than she'd imagined, but still, Harper felt like she was in the right to be annoyed. After all, she'd said this was a bad id-

The gunshot was a thousand times louder than Bruce's voice. Or, at least, that's what it felt like. Harper screamed, really screamed, and flailed, falling to the ground. She instinctively covered her head with her hands, before realizing that that would be entirely useless against someone with a gun who was aiming at her point blank. Instead, she crawled over and grabbed her abandoned mallet- which was probably also useless, but it made her feel just a little safer.

Harper glanced around frantically, looking to see if anyone was hurt.

The dark stain around Martha seemed to confirm that, yes, someone was hurt. Harper's breath hitched. "Martha? Martha!" She walked towards the girl, and bent down. Harper blinked, unsure of what to do, even. Her eyes were open, open and not blinking. Harper took a deep breath, before reaching to Martha's neck to take a pulse. Come on, come on...

She stood up, and turned to face Bruce. Slowly, she pulled the mallet in front of her chest.

"What the fuck did you do?"
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Harper had no reply to Amelia’s comment, but Martha smiled at the comment directed at her. Things were good. They were confident and ready-well, Harper seemed unsure, but Amelia was sure the girl would rather try and escape than be killed-they had a plan, and knew what they were doing. Well, Amelia and Martha did. Trevor, enigmatic as ever, seemed slightly nervous. Amelia let Martha handle his statements, although she did add on at the end; “That rifle would be useful, though, with someone... smarter...”

“Well, if it’ll make you all happy...”

Amelia looked over at Bruce, who was preparing to fire the gun. Amelia nodded her head, and prepared herself for the gunshot. Wonder how loud it’s actually gonna be... jeez, I better not scream or anything... that’d just be the perfect way of ruining any authority I had... wait, the fu-

And then Bruce was pointing the rifle at them. There was no time to move out of the way, and as Amelia heard the bang, she could only raise the pickaxe as an utterly useless shield. It took all of her willpower to avoid screaming. Amelia wildly looked around to see whether anyone had been hurt. To her relief, everyone seemed fine, albeit more than a little shaken. Then she noticed that Bruce was laughing, and the penny dropped.

Amelia furiously turned towards Bruce, slightly lowering the pickaxe but still keeping it threateningly high. “Bruce! Jesus Christ, you dickhead!” she yelled. “Why the fuck did you think that was a good ide-“

Amelia’s rant was cut short as she heard another bang, this one even louder than the first, and this time Amelia did scream, again raising the pickaxe. Seeing as Amelia had never heard a gunshot before, for a few seconds her mind raced with all the possibilities of what had just happened. Maybe something’s like, fallen off the back of a wagon, something heavy... or, I dunno, some sort of explosion from inside the trading post... or... oh, shit!

Once again, the penny dropped. Once again, Amelia wildly looked around to see whether anyone had been hurt. Only this time, to Amelia’s utter horror, it seemed as if someone had been. There was a dark red stain pooling out around Martha’s stomach, growing with every second. Martha herself was laying face-up on the ground, unmoving.

For a few seconds, Amelia found herself rooted to the spot, unable to do anything except repeat, over and over again; “M-Martha? Martha, say something, Martha!” After what seemed like years, she saw Harper walking over towards Martha, and Amelia joined her, with no idea of what to do. Harper bent down, reached towards Martha’s neck, looking for her pulse. Amelia hoped against hope that she’d find something, that there’d be some slim hope, ignoring the ever-growing pool of red, ignoring Martha’s open yet unblinking eyes...

And then Harper stood up, drew her mallet towards her chest, and Amelia knew that Martha was gone, and it was her fault. She’d thought up the whole plan. Harper had been right, the plan had been horrendously flawed, there had to have been some easier way that she’d just been too stupid to think off...

No. It’s his fault. It’s all Bruce’s fault. If he’d just decided to follow the fucking plan instead of trying to joke around with a fucking gun, Martha would still be alive.

Amelia raised her pickaxe again, and then turned to Bruce. Harper seemed to want answers. Amelia just wanted him to get out of her sight.

“Bruce...” Amelia could feel tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. “Get the fuck out of here, before I drive this pickaxe through your skull.”
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"Yeah... figured as mu-"
"BANG!"
The shout made Trevor jump due to its sudden appearance. He began to catch his breath, staring at Bruce. And then the gun fired, this time, for real. And this time, he fell over, panting quickly.
"JESUS CHRIST!" he yelled. Soon, Trevor picked himself up... just in time to see Martha's bleeding body. "... oh great..." Though Harper and Amelia were already hunched over her, Trevor made his way towards the body. Just as he expected. Martha was dead as a door nail. Suddenly, a feeling of panic spread over him, almost consuming.
"Bruce... Get the fuck out of here, before I drive this pickaxe through your skull.” He heard Amelia say.
"Now, now... no need to get hostile with Bruce..." he said, trying to seem calm. "Twas just an accident... a fatal one, at that..." His hand was already outstretched to give Amelia a comforting pat... but no, maybe she didn't wish to be touched. "R-Right, Bruce? It was just a slip of the finger... anyone could've made that mistake..."
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Bruce was truly lost for words.

In all seriousness, he should have seen this coming. After all, it didn't take an idiot to figure out that if you play with guns for long enough someone going to end up getting shot by accident. Bruce knew just as much as anyone that doing that is an insanely stupid idea.

And yet, here he was, holding a rifle in his hands and staring at a dead body. The body of someone whom HE had personally killed.

No, that can't be right! Maybe it's just a squib or something?!? Oh shit, who am I kidding, I just shot someone! Holy fucking hell, this game really is for real!

Bruce wasn't sure which freaked him out more. The fact that he really did just kill someone, or the fact that he was expected to do so in order to survive out here. And there were probably dozens of people out there who knew right off the bat that this was the real deal, and took full advantage of it. Hell, if people found out that he just killed someone, people were sure to suspect that he'd done it on purpose.

Fuck, I gotta get out of here, fuck, I gotta get out of here, fuck, I gotta get out of here.....

"I... It..... It was just a... Just an acciden......"

With a look of pure terror in his eyes, Bruce turned around and ran in the opposite direction, determined to get as far away from this place as quickly as humanely possible.

((Bruce Nightingale continued elsewhere))
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(( Eoin Harper continued from Ballad of the Coward ))

His breathing felt odd as he walked. He had noticed it as they'd walked. His bad side had not exactly been in the best of states to be moving anywhere, let alone trekking, but he'd known that. Death beat pain on the "Don't want" scale. Sucked though.

He was looking around, just to try and not think about everything that was, and had happened. He hated the sand and the crumbly dirt that was omnipresent in this place, it was just so very... Meh. It just wasn't interesting. It was like a plain piece of paper. Like somewhere that the forces of nature had just left blank, because, well, it wasn't interesting. It looked like the way you imagined some desolate, war ridden, under populated third world country to look like. This was why he had decided internally that they were in some desolate, war ridden, under populated third world country.

Hopefully that would mean that the government would have less diplomacy to go through, and more helicopters filled with special forces coming their way sometime soon. Maybe everyone would even be okay. That'd be good, even if he doubted it. Brian was going to try and follow through on what he'd tried to do earlier. And he wouldn't make the same mistake this time. He was an asshole, but he wasn't stupid.

He sighed and stared out at the sandy type crap again, looking for figures of shadows in the distance. But all he saw was glimmers of nothing through the heat haze that blurred horizon and sky in such a way that it was impossible to really look at.

A few minutes of mind-numbing walking later, and something finally, finally broke the line of the horizon. Although perhaps "Broke" was the wrong word there. He must've not been concentrating too hard on the horizon, because it seemed like the block of wood just... Appeared, like it had suddenly decided to plop itself into existence.

Wow. He was either A) Tired, or B) Those tablets had not been what it'd said on the packet.

He hoped it was the former.

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"Okay. Alright. Okay. Okay."

Harper's mind was not coming up with the best ideas at the moment, which left her in quite a state. She paced around in a circle, wringing her hands around the handle of her mallet, shaking her head. All in all this was not a very good morning, and Harper was right back at 'panicking' , which she had thought she'd done a marvelous job getting over, really. Of course, now Martha was dead, so perhaps this was a bit more reasonable time to panic.

Harper only stopped her frantic pacing when Amelia threatened Bruce. Her head snapped up, finding the other girl. Of course, yes, Amelia had the right idea, because Bruce was technically a killer regardless of whether or not he meant it, and really it was all his fault for playing around with a gun, which Harper had said was a bad idea, but, still. Harper couldn't help feel a little sorry for Amelia, because if Bruce was a more malicious (intelligent?) person, he would have just shot her. In the weapons game of rock-paper-scissors, she was pretty sure gun trumped pickaxe.

Bruce, on the other hand, was not malicious enough to just shoot them, and instead took off running for the hills. A small, rational part of Harper was screaming that he had the best weapon and she didn't, and they should be sticking together, but then Harper glanced back down at the very dead Martha and that part of her brain promptly shut the hell up. Bruce was gone, which solved half of the current problems on Harper's plate. The other problem, however, was a corpse, and there really wasn't a whole lot to do about that one.

Harper looked between Amelia, who appeared calm, and Trevor, who was probably a bit too calm, and shrugged. "Do we...bury her?" She frowned, realizing the lack of shovels and other proper tools used for a burial. "Or just...pay our respects? I really don't know what the situation calls for, to be honest, and I'm trying very hard not to panic."

She didn't add and doing an awful job at it because, really, that went without saying.
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((Samantha Atterman continued from The Ballad of the Coward))

Walking through the desert with Eoin and Lena, Samantha had very rapidly found new meaning in the word "hot." She shook her head, keeping those thoughts out; she was the one of the trio that had not almost died already.

She offered what assistance she could to the two and kept silent about the discomfort. Coming up over a low dune, she saw a dim shape, which defined itself into a building. As they moved closer, she could see dim specks in the distance, people!

She turned to the others and smiled. "Look! See? What did I tell you? Trading post! I think I see a couple people too!"

The walk through the desert had made her drop her guard, more concerned with getting her two patients (and herself) into the building than threat assessment. She took in a deep breath and yelled to the people at the trading post. "Hey! Hey! Over here! Mind if we take some shelter?"
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Look at the POOL, Michael, look at the magic in it!!!
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Amelia stood and waited for Bruce to answer, the pickaxe trembling in her hands as she grew angrier and angrier. She wanted to calm herself down, knew she needed to stay calm, like she had back at the ranch when she first heard what was actually happening, but as soon as she thought of that, she thought of Martha, and then she thought of Martha lying on the ground bleeding out, and that just started the whole vicious cycle over again.

When Trevor started speaking, Amelia almost spun round and drove the pickaxe into him, the sudden, calm voice startling her. She managed to restrain herself, however, and listened, eyes still fixed on Bruce. She immediately wished she hadn’t, however. Trevor was calm, way too calm for what had just happened. He was acting, in Amelia’s eyes, as if he hardly cared about the dead body lying a few feet away from him. How can he speak like that? How the fuck can he try and brush off what happened here? An accident? Jesus Christ, Martha just got murdered and you’re speaking as if Bruce just knocked over a vase or something!

With these last thoughts, Amelia finally broke eye contact with Bruce and turned towards Trevor, pickaxe still raised dangerously high. “Trevor, stop talking.” Amelia said, her voice almost calm, were it not for a faint quiver, a mixture of anger and despair. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Amelia turned back to Bruce, but he had made a break for it. Amelia could only just see him, disappearing into the distance. For a moment, Amelia thought about giving chase. She wanted to hurt Bruce, to make him pay for what he’d done to Martha. Then the anger inside of her subsided, and all Amelia felt was an unbelievable amount of despair. The pickaxe slipped from her hands, and bounced onto its side.

Martha’s dead. She... she’s really dead. Oh, God... and Bruce killed her and... Fuck... It’s... my fault... Amelia couldn’t help but feel a huge pang of guilt for what had happened. It was odd; guilt didn’t seem like a strong enough word, but it was the only one that described how Amelia felt. If only I had thought of a different plan, a safer plan... this could have been avoided... and Bruce wouldn’t have...

At the thought of Bruce, Amelia felt a flash of anger, the same feeling she’d had earlier. She still couldn’t forgive Bruce. Not after this, no matter if it had been an accident or not. There wasn’t much she could do involving him, right now though. But speaking of right now, what could she do right now? Her group was one down already. They didn’t have any plans outside of “getting out of here alive”. The only thing Amelia felt she could do was just break down and cry. It would do as much good as anything else she did.

Then Harper spoke up, and Amelia looked over at the girl. She’d almost forgotten about her, she’d been focusing on Bruce and Trevor and Martha... Amelia almost started crying at that thought, so focused on what Harper was saying in order to block it out. Harper was suggesting they dig Martha a grave, and Amelia nodded at her words.

“Y-yeah...” Amelia said, voice much quieter than usual. “Yeah, I think we should. She... well, no. Martha didn’t deserve this. But, uh... s-she deserves a grave, at least. And, uh, I have my pickaxe, and Martha had a spade on her as well...”

Amelia stopped, and stood there awkwardly. She wasn’t sure how to go about digging a grave. She’d never done anything like it before. She had half a mind to just grab Martha’s spade and just start digging, when she heard a shout from nearby. Amelia turned in the direction the voice had come from. There were three people walking towards them, all unrecognisable at this distance. Amelia didn’t want to talk to them. She didn’t currently want anything to do with them. She just felt so out of touch with her regular self, and she needed some time to think. But she couldn’t leave Martha unburied. It wouldn’t seem right. Amelia stayed quiet, and went to look for Martha’s shovel. Trevor or Harper could answer the newcomers.
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In response to Amelia's shout, Trevor nearly jumped back. Yes, Martha's death was hard to take in... and yet... he felt guilty. There he was, seemingly calm on the outside while panicking on the inside. And that didn't seem to help him at all. He sighed, looking towards the source of the shouting, then back to Amelia.
"Listen, Amelia." he said. "I'll dig her grave. You go check on who's out there." A few beads of sweat slithered down his forehead, dropping onto the ground below. "I mean, yes, I know Martha was close to you..." He then turned away, muttering to himself.
Trevor, you are a god damn idiot.
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((Sorry for breaking post order, but we need to get Trevor out of here.))

Amelia was looking over Martha’s body, trying to avert her eyes from the pool of blood, and the girl’s open, yet lifeless, eyes. This was, of course, an almost impossible task, and every time Amelia caught a glimpse of red, she immediately screwed her eyes shut. This then meant she couldn’t search for Martha’s shovel, forcing her to open her eyes again, and risking seeing the blood again. Eventually, Amelia saw that Martha was holding the shovel in her hand, and she bent down to pick it up.

“Listen, Amelia. I’ll dig her grave.”

Amelia hastily stood up and spun round. Trevor was just standing there, talking to her, still in the same infuriatingly calm voice. You want me to go check on the new guys? Not happening, Trevor. This is... my responsibility. You go to talk to them. Amelia wanted to say all this, but she realised that Trevor was probably just trying to be helpful. He could see how shitty Amelia was feeling, and just wanted to put her mind off of what had happened. But despite that, Amelia felt overwhelmingly guilty about what had happened to Martha, and either they all dug her a grave, or Amelia did it alone. She turned back to Martha’s body.

And then Trevor opened his mouth again, and something inside Amelia snapped. She turned back to look at Trevor. It had just been the way he’d said it. To Amelia, it was if he’d said, “I know Martha was close to you, but I don’t care, I just want to appear useful.” All traces of common sense had left Amelia, as she started walking towards Trevor.

“Look, Trevor, you don’t seem to have understood me.” She said, again in a calm tone with an underlying hint of anger. “I told you to stop fucking talking. That also means don’t tell me what to do, and don’t be so FUCKING HEARTLESS!” Amelia was right in front of Trevor now, clearly livid. Her pickaxe was raised threateningly again, only this time Amelia hadn’t even realised it.
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The words made him a bit on his feet. Yep, he fucked up royally. Or so it seems... He noted the raised pickaxe and suddenly, Trevor grew more scared of her. But still, the calm facade remained. He only had one shot left, and regardless of what he could say, he just knew Amelia was going to flip. The best he could do was walk away. Walk away, and leave Amelia to grieve in peace. Taking a deep breath, Trevor finally spoke up.
"Listen, Amelia. Yell at me all you want. Go ahead. Even if I say I'm sorry, you'll probably want to cave my skull in with that pickaxe. And that's fine. It's probably deserved at this point." he said, still looking calm. Trevor then dug into his pack, and pulled out his own bowie knife. "Here. Take it. Just take my knife. Call it a parting gift." With that, he placed it on the ground, and turned around. "Hopefully it'll serve you well... unlike me." At a moderate pace, Trevor walked away from the trading post, starting to feel less hopeful than before.

((Trevor Altahen continued at Into The Earth))
Edited by widespreadinman, Jan 9 2012, 01:53 AM.
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