Snippet #1692863

When his seatbelts clicked open, Jon opened his eyes. He had been sleeping for most of the trip, on and off every few hours. He didn't take time to look at his fellow "contestants", he had observed them enough in between his naps. The kid with black hair and five 'o clock shadow was obviously a drunk, the girl with the petite frame and curly hair appeared weak at first, but upon closer inspection, you realized she knew how to handle herself. There was another girl, and if Jon wasn't mistaken, a hunter. Her rough hands and hawk-like eyes attested to that. Then there was Frank "Lightning Fist" Annot. Jon had recognised the man almost instantly. Jon was a fan of boxing and had seen a few of Frank's fights. The last two men, the Asian and the Guy in the Prison jumpsuit. Both men looked as if they grew up on the worse side of town and thought the world of themselves. Jon knew their type all too well. He had met several men like them during his stint in the Marines. Those guys were always the first to go, mainly because they honestly thought they were invincible.

Jon heard several of the others talking amongst themselves. He didn't pay attention, mostly just because he didn't feel like listening to a bunch of convicts talk a big game as if it meant something. They were all slotted to die on public t.v., their grusome deaths designed to bring joy to the masses. Jon closed his eyes again. He thought he might as well catch one last quick nap. He was going to need all the energy he could muster if he was going to survive the Walk back.