[i]He spots JT; the cowboy from the bar, walking around the perimeter, 2 pitch black revolvers in his hands[/i]
English
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Looking around, he grabs onto a long cable, and attaches it to a thick metal beam. He wraps it around his wrist, and slowly rappels down the ship until he drops down to JT. "Hey, who are you?"
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"Names JT, you would be?" [i]he asks, spinning his right revolver near his head, and pointing his left one at him from his waist[/i]
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Eric likewise keeps his P226 raised at JT, but seems to do so warily instead of dangerously, "Eric, Eric Stratos. Wha- what happened? Why am I here?"
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"You're on some desert planet, after the Avalon crashed"
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Eric shakes his head, and lowers the pistol. Some blood had hardened on his forehead, and there's a few cuts there as well. "Avalon?... What the hell..."
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"Yup"
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"Why the hell was I on a ship that big? I'm a pilot, but I couldn't fly that thing."
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"No idea man. You FN?"
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"What the hell is FN?" Suddenly, it makes sense. His confusion, the wounds on his head. He probably lost his memory.
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"Mhm, you lost your memory"
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He looks around, "Well, no shit Sherlock."
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"Hey man, I wouldn't be talking shit if I were you"
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"Why not? I didn't talk shit to the bar, yet it did me a number. Might as well get some satisfaction out of it."