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For those that bear the S or W[Common Frequency]

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Sitting outside of the log cabin, underneath the mandala watching the rain pour from the sky, Michael sat on a bench, thinking to himself. Evaluating all the recent things people have said and done, the things he’s seen of people, people he used to call friends, allies. Taking out his radio Michael presses down on the transmit button and brings the device up to his lips.

“So, I’m here today to address a few things that have been on my mind recently, why do you care? Well, if you so happen to be wearing a W or an S on your body somewhere at this very moment, then I highly recommend you stay tuned.

First, before we get to all of that some of you out there may be curious just who I am, well, you can just call me Mickey and all I wish to do, all I’ve ever wished to do was to help others to the best of my ability, and that is exactly what I plan to do for many of you tonight. Call it, the first step in a long healing process. And regardless of those I spend my time with, my allegiances lie only with myself. 

So, what I’d like to start off with is well, honestly a bit selfish of me, but needs to be addressed. Ivan. Lynch. You really think that just telling me to never contact you again is going to make it all go away? That I’m going to forgive all the times you’ve hunted me and your tries to convince others why I needed to be “put down”? No Ivan, you should know better, you should know that as long as you remained somewhat useful to me I’d be willing to overlook a few things. But as of late, your persistence in finding me, in trying to make me “pay” for what I’ve done, the things I’ve said, has really diminished your usefulness. In fact, you’ve honestly become a rather annoying liability that needs to be dealt with.

But tonight I’m not really here to talk about you, Ivan. No, I’m here to talk about a group of puppies that seem to enjoy marking their territory everywhere they go. Some of you may know these people as the Scarred Brothers, though what they really like to call themselves are Jackals. But really they’re just a group of small pups that have no little self-respect or honor that they can’t have a simple diplomatic discussion without bringing in third parties to, ahem, “assist” them. 

You boys even sent a timid girl to stand out in the cold rain to try and lure us into such an obvious setup that it’s a general assault on my senses by the lack of creativity. I mean really now, how about next time you go over her script a little better. Constantly telling us to “C- come on lets go” and that you wanted to take shelter from the rain one town over when there is entire city, your city mind you, right directly behind us. I’d say you pups need work in the planning department if you want my honest opinion. 

But now, let us get to the critical reason for this little broadcast of mine. You see, these little pups have apparently taken a liking to marking the survivors of this fine land. I believe it was an “S” for Strong and “W” for Weak. Well the truth is, if you have any mark of theirs on you, you are weak in their eyes, even if you accepted it willingly. 

Yes, to them you’re just a piece of their territory, a walking bag of flesh they have simply pissed on. I see and hear you people showing off these marks, like it’s a god damn badge of honor. Like you feel you should better yourself because a few mutts decided to make you theirs. It’s disgusting, and those of you that have these scares to bear should feel the same. I think it’s about time someone domesticated these pups, one by one. For the Jackals that were in therapy, your care is no longer in the hands of Alyssa. No, you squandered that opportunity, now, you’re all mine to play with.”

A laugh is heard over the radio, followed by a sigh.

“Well then, toodle-loo, gentlemen.”

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*Logan listens to Mickey's transmission, rubbing his "W" scar on his right shoulder while he listens. Once it ends, he presses down on the talk button.*

"Mickey, although I have heard some things about you that are far from pleasant, but I look past it for now. For the comment about how people carry it with pride. I don't wear this shit with pride, I... I wish I never got this. It's a reminder of the fuckers who took THREE of my friends from me. They blow Grubbs brains out with a magnum in front of me and Max, then marked us... That was a week and two days ago, but yesterday... They... They killed Max... They killed him in the same barn they killed Grubbs in... then they killed the Rev. Jonathan as he came to rescue him..."

*Logan takes a deep breath before continuing*

"Mickey, I'm not a man who wants revenge. I don't want my memories of them to be the desire for revenge, but the good times we shared. I see this "W" as a reminder of them, but a reminder that I still have my humanity and desire to help others. I don't wear this as a badge, if it was, then I want to be dead or at the very least, removing enough of my shoulder to get it off. As for you wanting to "play" with them, be all means , be my guest. You sound like a guy I could sit down and have a chat with in person. I shall end it here, but if you ever want to speak more, just contact me over the radio..."

*Logan lets go of the talk button and lays his head down, wondering if things will ever change.*

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*Haas clears his throat after hearing the transmission, and prepares a short response*


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The Marshal rubs his temples, sighing. He hadn't heard this voice in awhile, except for the one instance he was calling out. He raised his radio up, softly depressing his PTT.


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*Holding the radio in a shaking hand, Alyssa looks aghast at Michael with wide eyes.*

*Smirking slightly he places his right hand out, the palm facing upwards, staring at her with an expectant look on his face.*

*She takes a step back, looking at the 'A' on his palm, shaking her head just once.*

*Stepping closer towards her, he begins to reach out for the radio, his smirk slowly fading as well as remaining completely silent.*

*Another step back, and now she's against the wall on the porch, a look of pain and questioning furrowing her brow.*

*Still moving ever closer to her, Michael stops inches from her body. His face close enough for his breath to tickle her nose. Suddenly he reaches out to grasp her by the sides, smiling as he does so. He holds her gently pressed against the wall, his grip firm, but not aggressive as he whispers.*

"Dear, I'd like my radio back if you don't mind.”

*She shivers, and looks up into his eyes, willing herself to trust. Slowly, she offers up the radio.*

*He takes the radio in his right hand, still holding onto her. He leans in to kiss her on the forehead, whispering.*

"Thank you dear, and I understand if I upset you and I apologize, but please trust me in this."

*Alyssa closes her eyes, and nods, silent*

*His expression lowers at her silence, opening his mouth for a moment but remaining silent, simply nodding and backing away from her. Slowly, he directs himself back into the cabin, his eyes never leaving the ground. As he gets back inside, he listens intensely for responses, his ears perking up at someone offering a chance to talk like civilized beings. Turning the transmission button back on Michael begins to speak in a rather forced joyful tone.*

"Ah, yes I see. I am sorry to hear about your, ahem losses. But, I am indeed glad that you refuse to parade that honestly disgusting example of ownership. I think that perhaps a talk may indeed be in order."

*Michael lifts the transmission button and ends that small broadcast as he mutters to himself.*

"My, perhaps I may find possible new associates, this may indeed turn interesting... hmm?"

*As Michael talks a new voice cracks over the radio, this time someone with an obvious voice altercation unit. A wide grin crosses Michael's face as the person continues to talk, barely even paying attention, it doesn't take long for Michael to chime in after the altered voice ceases.*

"My, you simply must tell me where you found that device. It's a real shame it's being wasted in hands such as yours."

*Michael's voice again cuts out, his gaze locked on the radio as he awaits the the next replies, his eyes looking out the window at Alyssa every few moments.*

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*Kasey listens in on the "markings" he had been hearing about so often and starts shivering the more he hears*

W-wait... s-...so p-people cut a-a-an S o-or a W on people because of what THEY think of you? what kinda...


*stops and thinks for a moment that revealing Logan's name could backfire on him*

Th-they... when...?  Got Max? I- I didnt know him that well but...

H-hey um... y-you know who you are i-if you ever need help d-dont hesitate to ask I-I'll do what I can

*lets go of his radio and takes a swig from his jerry can*

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*Ivan's brow furrows as he listens, his frown growing deeper, and deeper until he he his face curls into a snarl, a look of disgust. He spits once, before pressing down on the transmit button.*

"You're really not the person who should be talking about respect, Mickey. You think the Jackals view everyone as a beag of meat? Part of their territory? Let's talk about your views then, since you're so eager to start pretending to know the motivations of others. 

Right now, when you were with Darion and his blood drinking cult, back when you were with us, The Crows, and even before that.... you have ALWAYS, viewed EVERYONE, as a walking bloodbag, a drinking fountain, an amusing.... thirst quencher.

The Jackals, they respect the people they mark as strong. And the weak? The mark serves as a reminder of what they are, what they'll ALWAYS be, unless they change. It's there to motivate them. And if they don't change? If they don't become strong? They die.

Some people don't see this, some people don't change, because the only thing they've got going in their simple little heads.... is revenge. And let me tell you, revenge is a trap for the weak. It's tempting, suuuure. But if you walk into it unprepared, it snaps shut. Sometimes it just messes you up bad.... sometimes it kills you.

They don't enjoy killing, they don't enjoy making people suffer. They show people what the world is, what people are capable of doing. And if they don't change.... they'll just walkin' into that trap, over and over and over again, until it finally DOES kill them.

Mickey.... you say I'm a liability, but ask yourself: what have you actually DONE to help people? I mean, when it isn't furthering your own ends of course. It's ALWAYS been about you. The kids? They weren't gonna learn from your skewed method of "Help". They were too naive, too innocent. But you were too blind to see it, stuck in your sadistic ways, taking pleasure from making them suffer - DON'T TRY TO DENY IT. We all heard the broadcasts.

At least Chief, Marshal, the Trust, at least they TRIED to keep them safe. At least they SAW that trying to make them stronger was nothing more than a loosing battle. They may have failed but at least they TRIED. That's more than you'll ever be able to say.

If you want to kill me Mickey then COME AND GET ME. I'll rip you into a thousand pieces, slowly feed each piece down your throat until you either bleed out, or choke.

The walls are closing in on you Mickey. Alyssa.... at least SHE has chance to get out, before the house crumbles down on your head. At least she has the potential to do some good....

Her hands are dirty, perhaps. But now.... after all that's happened.... is there really anybody that can say their hands are clean?"

*Ivan stops transmitting, slumping back against the tree with a sigh.*

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Forgetting that night was impossible. Rage was something that Seymour held closely to him, regardless of whether or not he'd invited the anger in or not. Life was easier when you threw the first punch.

But he hadn't thrown any punches. He'd taught his brothers respect. If they showed it, then they simply received it in return. If they didn't, then Seymour would beat them. With the youngest boy, this method was utilized numerous times per day. His constant acting out was too much for Seymour to bear, and so he'd taken up hunting again. Not hunting in the traditional sense, but head-hunting. A classy man had offered a large reward in exchange for Seymour's services.

Unfortunately, Seymour's services were best executed while crouching in a wet ditch somewhere, just looking out over the top of the ridge line into the nearby city. His brothers were scattered around in various positions, each of them dealing with the trembling cold on their lonesome. Seymour was flipping through the frequencies on his radio when he heard Mickey's voice. It was familiar. As he spoke, he was reminded of the last time he'd seen Mickey. He was reminded again of the last time he'd heard Mickey. These experiences of his were not complete without the terror of Amelia's voice in the background. As Mickey spoke, he could hear her crying. He imagined her head thrown around in Dolina for the world to see. A shame that these terrors aren't unimaginable, as they once might have been spoken of...

Once Mickey stopped speaking, Seymour felt compelled to respond. He was out of smokes, wet, and agitated. He'd taken to chewing on a thick piece of grass to keep the urges away. He moved the grass around as he spoke, occasionally chewing loudly and clicking his mouth.

His voice, deepened from years of smoking, began, "You never took the time to understand. A shame. A lot of my boys took a liking to you, but not me. Fortunately, most of 'em don't take kindly to torturin' little girls..." he moves the piece of grass around, running a hand through his greasy red beard as he speaks, "...I didn't know what to do with you then. Ain't every day I can look back at my actions and know with certainty that I fucked up."

The wind blows, and he stops transmitting until it passes. His jacket, leather and rugged, is beginning to fray and become brittle due the heavy rain. His pants are stiff with dirt, small clouds of dust crackle off his ass each time he crouches. The wind passes.

"Mr. Lexton, who I know you're familiar with, told me about you before I'd ever met you. You were different than I'd imagined. Worse than I'd thought, if I'm being completely honest. I knew you were a bad man -- But you ain't nothing like me. I'm a bad man. I don't deny it. The old world had pages upon pages of the things I'd done. Strange how easy it was for me to live my life completely on the fuckin' fringes, avoiding the law just like we avoid it today...but I never did hurt no little girls."

The wind picks up again, but Seymour doesn't stop transmitting. He merely raises his voice, yelling into the receiver to compensate.


The wind dies down, and Seymour's voice calms down. He does not sound particularly angry -- He has had much time to ponder these words. His mind has been made up for months.

"...For every man my boys have killed, we've allowed two more to survive. All I've ever been concerned with is the truth, Mickey. It's fucking incredible what sort of truth a scar can bring! The weak change, or they die! The strong thrive, for they are FREE!" and now the rage begins, "You know NOTHING about us! That girl was my daughter -- She was there in place of my son, Carter, who I know Alyssa has spoken to. She was there because he'd taken to hypothermia. The outcome wouldn't have fucking changed, though. That prick from Black Sky still would have opened his fucking mouth, and you'd still have ran! I don't blame you for your cowardice, but if you allow her to abandon Carter, then that boy will die. I can't help him the way that she can -- I walked the boy to fucking Dolina and sent him off to her! She's seen his face -- Hasn't he been through enough!?"

The wind picks up again, and Seymour stops transmitting. His eyes dart down towards his feet. He spits out the blade of grass, then spits again as the blade floats away. The wind dies down.

"...Your judgement isn't over, Mickey...We never got to you, did we? Funny how my little boy can see the strength in your lover -- And yet we could never peg you for anything other than a fucking lunatic. Go on -- Keep spreading lies. This world already knows the truth."

The wind picks up again, and Seymour stops transmitting.

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[spoiler=Text]Oh dear lord, Alyssa.... Is this what you protect?

This pitifull creature lost past the borders of sanity. This sociopath is what you call your lover?

Since when does he run the alcyone? Is this what you want? Do you want him to be the dean?

Are you sure you want this person alive? do you think you can still use him as a toy?

The rabbit dog is breaking loose Alyssa....

Just like Jena... Jena spilled the location Alyssa.... You cant control them Alyssa.....

For all of those listening....... Jena Woods spilled the location of Amelia Mercer to Darion Dailey... YEt another act of crime from the hell hole called .... Alcyone....

and now.... now ... it seems like Mickey runs it all..... Kill them before they lose control.....



OH Mickey you arent half of what you used to be....

Cant you control others anyomore?

Is this how you want it to go down? Once you were a snake... Now you are a sheep....

I wondered when crows would fall .... I guess I got my answer....

We will speak soon Mickey.... You cant trust her Mickey.....

Either her or me.... Will end you.....

Oh young folk—

if you fear death,

die now!

Having died once

you won't die again.

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Hearing the voice of Marshal, Michael lets out a deep, depressing sigh, almost an involuntary reaction at this point at the reminder of this man. As Marshal finishes his broadcast, Michael quickly chimes in.


“Alright, look. Let’s settle this right now, none of those people are or ever will be my “friend” and you do not get to decide that for me. I am not associated with the campus and honestly find it somewhat insulting that many of you fail to recognize this. Really now, if they were to be killed in front of me it would wouldn’t be of any real loss.

And yes, you were one of those uninvited parties Marshal, but as your intellect continuously demonstrates, you fail to really gasp the entirety of the situation around you. Often stumbling around like a fool, completely unaware you were being pursued, causing further unnecessary interruption. You know, you really do remind me of Chief, in fact, I can barely tell you two apart anymore. Oh, sorry was that offensive to you? Well, maybe next time you shouldn’t decide whose friends with whom, hm?

You say you didn’t want things to get rowdy, that you wanted to mediate intimidation, where do you get off deciding such things for yourself? I don’t believe anyone of us that were there to meet with the pups that night requested your presence.  I mean, your presence was ultimate a nuisance, having this “Black Sky” find your location and further ruin any possible diplomacy.

But, being the fair individual I am, I’d be willing to meet with you, just contact me on a more private frequency and we’ll hash out all the little details. How is Anne by the way? A little birdy told me you two are together these days. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to lay eyes on her; perhaps a little reunion is in order, no?

Oh, and I will be sure to, ah, have a little “talk” with Luciano. But, the same advice could easily be leveled at you Che-… Marshal.

Well, Toodle-loo.”


Michael clicks off the transmission button, listening to the radio buzz. Even hearing Alyssa chime in, bringing a slight grin to his face. Soon though, he hears two familiar voices. Ivan and Seymour. His grin widening as he listens in, noting their loss of composure as the anger over takes them. Barely on the edge of his seat, he presses down on the transmit button and begins speaking in his regular solemn tone.


“Ivan… Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. You think you know me so well, and yet you consistently misunderstand my methods and intentions, and still at this very moment you’re completely unaware of these issues. Yes, I’ve sampled from a few of my former patients, but I always helped them in return. You should also realize most of these people were very willing donors and I guarantee each one went to a great cause.”

Michael can be heard cackling slightly, his tone remaining playful.

“Your treatment will commence soon, Ivan and things are going to be a bit more… impactful than our last few sessions. I do hope you don’t miss your appointment, your wings are long overdue to be clipped."


Michael releases the transmit button for a moment before quickly switching it back on, remembering the yapping mutt.


“And Seymour, I knew you never really trusted me from the night we met and that has always made me respect you over your brothers, too quick are people to be accepting, willing to bond with others. Well Seymour, how strong are your bonds, hm? When it’s Carter over the radio, crying out to his brothers for help, will you be the one to come running? Or, will you simply sit there with your jaw agape, unable to do anything, the curiosity and your emotions getting the better of you. Just. Like. Last time.”

Michael yet again taunts them with a laugh before uttering one final sentence.

“He really isn’t family after all.”

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*Ivan's eyes snap open and a roar escapes him as he jolts awake. He sits up with a start, fumbling next to him for his knife. I'm the moment of confusion he scrapes his hand along the edge of the blade, causing him to bite back a stream of curses.

He sits, panting in the dark, sweat dripping down his face. Just a dream... he told himself.... just a dream.

But the nightmare is real.... the nightmare that nobody can wake up from.

Ivan's breathing becomes slower, his pupil becomes larger, a large, vicious smile twists upon his face as he starts to chuckle.

Ivan was asleep.... leaving him to speak his mind freely.

Jack picked up the radio, tuning it to the right frequency before transmitting. His voice is deep and moist, full of malice.*

"I could hear it in your voice Mickey. I know fear when I hear it. You're afraid that if you don't do something, anything, you and you're precious plaything are going to meet your ends.... sooner than you would have liked.

Trying to turn peoples attention towards the Jackals.... trying to divert it away from Alyssa.... that won't work. Not if you choose to use lies.

How does it feel.... to be so.... utterly.... helpless, to stop the storm that is coming your way? You can't protect Alyssa, not from the whole world. Are you scared Mickey? I know you are.

But I don't think you're scared of loosing Alyssa.... I think that you're scared, that she'll realize the truth about you before long.... and finally put you out of your misery.

After all, I know what her opinion on men, REALLY is. Oh yes... I know about that. Perhaps our good friend Finnr, will eventually shed some light on THAT particular piece of information.

I speak the truth, the brutal, hard truth. You are.... a bag of meat. Not to the Jackals, noooo.... not to Ivan.... but to me.... oooh hohoho....

Just a stinking.... bag.... of meat.... and blood, with a bit of bone to hold it together.

You don't want to see Alyssa's bag split, do you? How.... tragic it would be, if you had to watch as her precious essence were to leak all over the ground.... soaking into the earth below.... But luckily for her, she doesn't interest me. 

Ivan wants you gone. He wants you gone quick. He doesn't thirst for violence like I do.... but I.... I'm not Ivan.

I'm going to break you Mickey. I'm going to make you beg for the cold embrace of death. 

Well then.... Toodle-loo Mickey."

*A chilling laugh is heard, growing in volume until the sheer madness, insanity and sadism of the sound, can almost be felt, just before the radio goes silent.*

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clicks radio on SPEAKING:  hello my old friend I see that you have grown out of your timmed shell and running the show. glad to see that but I also want to bring up something that is buging me your comment on IVAN why bring him into this I hear you calling out some people that you just don't want to call out but that's your choice.

remember a time  and I,am sure you heard of when the HUNTER killed 6 men on a hill and later on that day 8 more men fell to him.

I left all that behind me Mickey but you keep up this act like your running the show I will let the HUNTER out again and this time for you my old friend .

so I will give you time to take back your statements about Ivan remember just because the crows are fallen does not mean that they are not still around and if I have to I will make that name cause chills down your spine again.



leaves radio on waiting for a response .

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*Static Starts - Reiner sighs and speaks agitated over this response and the amount of radio warriors called to fight*

No, no, no, no, Mickey.  You've got the wrong people. The brothers who carve do so for a reason - I enjoy Harry and Nik and Carter.  Seriously Mickey, if your going to continue being a fucking idiot - do so off the radio : you give the radio warriors like Marshal the Messiah,and Finnigan, the platform to speak like the idiots they are. Seriously - the idiot who gave humanity the common citizen to hold a radio should cease to exist.

We even have pussy robots making calls ano - because there too much of a bitch to whip their tiny dick out even from the radio. You gave these idiots a platform to fight like the chicken shits they are, disappointing Mickey.  

Regardless: I wear my S with pride, I am strong , and I will change the way this world is.  The S is not merely a mark of property - for me : it is a sign of understanding. I understand the reasons they do it - and you seem to be too ignorant to understand.  If you don't care - take it up with them don't spread it on an open frequency.  Overall - if you have issues : speak it to them directly - don't give the monkeys with bananas and R2D2 the ability to reply.  I thought someone like you would understand. Stay on your toes, Mickey.  And Alyssa, seriously -  take away the radio from him if he's going to be an idiot like Finnigan and Marshal - we have enough people spreading bullcrap on the radio without the need to partake in such.

*Static Ends*

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Charles had been jogging for a good bit since he'd heard that twig snap in the forest. Now he was even more lost than ever, but there was shouting pouring from his handheld. Christ. There was so much information coming in from all the big-wigs of Chernarus- and they were all trying to slander and humiliate each other. If they weren't careful, a war might unfold. Especially now that the Jackals name had been said aloud on a public broadcast. Charles had always heard them as the "Jays", but now he knew what their proper name was. He also knew that anyone who said it aloud was a target for a tongue cutting. Simply barbaric.

However, it also sounded as if Alcyone might finally be leaving their position of neutrality. If this was true, a war was just on the horizon.

Not good.

He had a question though. It would help him figure out which way things might swing once the action started.

He keyed his radio.

"Ms. Morgan, you don't know me- in fact, none of you do. I have a question for you."

Charles took a deep breath and tried to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"What are your thoughts on Jay Wong and his... group?"

He sat down by a pine tree and waited for a response with bated breath.

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The Marshal shook his head, hearing the words spoken of him by Micky and Reiner.

"I'm disappointed, Alyssa... I had such high regards for your entourage because of who they followed... Seems like they're no better than the ones who wander the coast, jabbing insults where they can because it makes them feel good, makes them feel better... " he sighed. "Your people are ungrateful to outside help, I've done nothing but offer that... And this is how they treat others."

He rubbed his temples roughly, working his jaw to the side. "Done with defending... In the essence of trying to beat off all the hostilities you're catching those who were looking out for you in the crossfire. I'm not going to sit here and listen to your archivist insult me, the very man that kept him from getting plugged by a double barrel weeks ago, spouting off ridiculous names like I'm the same man that HE started calling the Messiah..."

"I'm taking a step back from this until I find a reason otherwise, have fun with your little war..."

He released the PTT, looking down at the black notebook in his hands. Perhaps he'd put his faith in the wrong people... A change in direction might be needed...

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So right now, nameless friend, I'm pretty goddamned pissed off with Mr. Wong.


Charles let out a sigh of relief and chuckled. He pressed the button on the radio and responded.

"Well alrighty then. Seems we have something in common then. I'd like to arrange a meeting with you ma'am. Unforunately, I don't know how soon that could happen, but I feel that it could be mutually beneficial to both of us."

He let go of the PTT button and slid the radio into his pants pocket once more. First things first- figure out where the fuck he was.

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Oh my Alyssa! Did you just give away your involvement with Darion?

For as far as I know everybody said it was Darion that cut off her head? wasnt it? nobody knew what happened in that barn! NOBODY.

So the only way for you to find out.... Is by them telling you.......

You fucked up again Alyssa.

You are only speeding up the bus Alyssa.

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*Wong Listen to the back and forth not saying a word not even thinking about saying a word..Until his name was mentioned. He sits down with a cheeky smile on his face before pressing the radio down*

*he laughs*

Wass up people. Mr motherfucking JAY WONG. How you all doing? Great. I don't really fucking care.

I helped you alyssa before I knew you or your people took Darion. I will find out who did it 

All I wanted was answers and you just kept on running didn't you? You know people get hurt when they run from me

makes my blood boil. You was there for me Alyssa from the moment I met you with Cade in Kab remember? 

I was also good to you BUT when people hurt my friends especially Darion. Shit get real and I go on one of my 

what did that person call it...Episodes.

I won't stop till I find out what happened to Darion I don't care how many people die to it. You know How strong I can be You've seen it first hand. For my numbers? we have more then 11 don't you worry.

On A serious note. I was pissed that night we took Jena oh indeed I was. If you meet me. Just you and me

I'll be unarmed we can talk about things but IF you wish to pursue to try and kill me Alyssa and Alcyone then I'll be your worst nightmare. You can't hide forever.

OH! That thing about Amy? I never liked her she just pissed me off people would just cover them up make em seem innocent..They wasn't..I wasn't involved in the head nailing in Dolina so if you don't know something don't try and accuse me of things.


*Wong releases the button on the radio and waits by a campfire in Sevrograd*

*Wong laughs at the man who's trying TOO HARD to get people to turn on Alyssa*

Welp you know nothing Mr. We spoke to Alyssa after we did it. I showed her Amys head. When we left there was the group Amy was in just standing there doing nothing watching us. So the trust?? I think there called Did nothing. Good try though 

*He releases the button on his radio* 

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*He picks up his radio a look of confusion on his face*

Wait Darion is hurt? Alyssa what did you do?

Jay is Darion ok? That guy is fucking awesome, I thought Alcyone was neutral but it is really starting to seem you guys are picking sides, word of advice to all of you. Stop fighting eachother, stop making enemies and stop starting wars, because all this death causes more sadness and more wars!

*He slides the radio into his pocket*

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