The four of you approach the gates and the beasts make short work of the guards-- they're fighting masters after all. The grass feels soft against your feet as you jog to the launch point. Once in position, you windup, taking a few steps back before letting your javelin loose into the air. It soars through the thick air and lands at the 15m mark. Glorious.
A police helicopter rises above the stadium and immediately shoots the three mutants before ordering you to the ground. You fall to your stomach with your hands on your head. You are never heard from again, but your mother finds your craigslist ad and blames your death on lust. But none of that matters since you accomplished your goal. Your only regret was that you arrived four days before the track and field events occurred, so no one saw you perform in the empty stadium.
Congratulations. Thanks for playing. Don't do drugs.
it's hard to shake the feeling that I've always got five stars in this Grand Theft Auto known as life.
Now, inexplicably, season three is looming over us like some sort of dome. Season one's plot asked whether or not the town could get out from under the dome. Apparently the answer was "no". Season two asked "I guess we're really stuck, huh?" and the answer was "yup".
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