Setting: A cold, desolate stretch somewhere in Nunavut, where jagged rocks and freezing winds dominate the landscape. The ground is bare, treeless, and unforgiving. Boom, wheelchair-bound, is finding every bump and rock a fresh obstacle. The group’s predicament began when, in a moment of collective insanity or misplaced trust, they all foolishly agreed to Mainlining’s ancient 2013 "BAM!" poast proposition—an absurd hypothetical about surviving in the Arctic wilderness after being dropped at 66°31'19.3"N 112°43'23.4"W in July, with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Now, they’re living that ill-advised dream-turned-nightmare. The Inuit locals, who had initially observed their bizarre arrival with amused curiosity, have since written them off as doomed fools.

Scene 1: The Descent into Desperation

The crew has been wandering aimlessly for days. The biting wind whips across the barren landscape, carrying with it the mournful howls of unseen creatures. Each gust chills them to the bone, a constant reminder of their vulnerability. They stop to gather around for a brief discussion on how to proceed, each reflecting their unique personalities.

Mainlining, dressed in his high-elevation hiking coat, his experience in the outdoors etched in his demeanor, takes charge. "We need to conserve energy and move south," he advises, scanning the horizon. "There’s no shelter out here, and if we keep wandering aimlessly, we’re dead. We should follow the sun and stay close to any sources of fresh water."

Evan39, shivering in his grocery store manager attire, grumbles, "Yeah, easy for you to say, survivalist boy. What about Boom here? His wheels keep getting stuck on every other rock, and I’m starting to feel like we’re dragging a corpse around."

Boom, oblivious to the insult, mutters, "Rigged tra$h ‘Earth’! This whole place is fraud, and ADM will pay up! Just keep pushing, and we'll find a way out."

Disco Fries, panting heavily, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air, interjects, "I say we find a spot, hunker down, and hope for rescue. I’m not cut out for this… Maybe we can start a signal fire?"

Mainlining shakes his head, "A signal fire is useless out here without anyone to see it. We’ve got to keep moving. And, Disco, I hate to break it to you, but sitting still isn’t exactly in your skill set."

Disco Fries nods reluctantly, “Fine, but if we start moving, I’m taking all the breaks I want. My cardio isn’t exactly marathon material."

Mainlining sighs, realizing that each of their lives depends on a fragile alliance of mismatched skills, poor planning, and desperate hope. He nods and they continue, knowing that they have no other option.

The biting wind continues to whip across the barren landscape, and Boom's wheelchair gets stuck on rocks with every other push. His cries of “Rigged tra$h “Earth”!” and “Fraud will pay up!” grow more delusional with each passing hour.

Scene 2: The First Realization of the Inevitable

The days grow longer, and the sun refuses to set fully, casting an eerie twilight across the barren landscape. Boom’s constant shouts about "live TV" and his dreams of getting hit with his own baseball bat have grown more erratic, more desperate. His face is gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and his eyes hold a vacant stare.

Mainlining, his stomach growling with an insatiable hunger, scans the horizon for any sign of hope, but all he sees is an endless expanse of ice and rock. He turns to Evan39, his voice a strained whisper. “We have to face facts: Boom’s not going to make it. And if we keep dragging him along, neither will we.”

Evan39 nods slowly, his gaze fixed on the splintered baseball bat clutched in Boom's frozen hand. He sneaks a glance at Mainlining, marveling at his resolve, even in such dire straits. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’ve got no food, no water. Boom’s wheelchair is holding us back. We’re freezing, and there’s no end in sight. Mainlining, you need to handle this – I am too weak, and Disco Fries, well, even now, still too obese to be trusted.” A wave of guilt washes over him, but it's quickly replaced by the primal instinct to survive.

Disco Fries, overhearing, his voice trembling, joins in, “What are you suggesting…?” The thought hangs heavy in the air, unspoken but understood.

Evan39 hesitates but then says quietly, “Boom’s not going to make it. He’s practically dead weight. We’re going to have to… consider other options.”

Mainlining's eyes harden. "He wanted to be hit by his own baseball bat on live TV. Maybe this is close enough. A fortuitous gift, really." The bat, once a symbol of Boom's bravado, now takes on a sinister meaning.

Scene 3: Cannibalism Begins

That night, the four of them sit around a small, struggling fire, their faces hollow and eyes reflecting the flickering flames. The wind howls, a constant reminder of their isolation and impending doom. Boom, mumbling incoherently about “$eaTTTle” “homele$$ scum” and “tow driver frauds,” drifts in and out of consciousness, still clutching the bat as if it’s his last lifeline. Mainlining looks over at Evan39 and Disco Fries. A silent understanding passes between them.

“It’s him or us,” he whispers, his voice raspy from the cold. “We’re out of choices. If we don’t do something soon, we’re all done for.”

Disco Fries, hunger gnawing at his insides, nods reluctantly. “Okay… but how?” His voice cracks, betraying his inner turmoil.

Evan39 sighs, looking at Boom, who seems oblivious to the conversation happening around him. “Let’s do it while he’s asleep. Make it quick. He wanted to go out on live TV; this is the closest he’s gonna get.” His gaze briefly lingers on Mainlining, wondering if his calm demeanor is just a front—or something more.

Mainlining grips the bat, Boom’s once-prized possession, now a tool of survival. He whispers, “I’m sorry, Boom… but we have to survive. Know this, if I maek it out of here, I promise you, ADM will pay.”

Boom’s last coherent words are a confused, whispered chant of “Fraud… live TV… here we goo…”

Scene 4: The Grim Feast and the Pact

The group has little choice but to cannibalize Boom to survive. His body, once a burden, now offers a grim form of sustenance. They share the meager rations they have created, the taste of desperation and guilt mingling on their tongues.

Evan39, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his eyes filled with a haunted look, mutters, “I never thought it would come to this… but at least we have a fighting chance now.” He steals another glance at Mainlining, feeling both repulsed by their actions and strangely drawn to the man beside him.

Disco Fries, still licking his lips, the hunger momentarily satiated, agrees. “Yeah, but what’s next? We’re still out here, nowhere near civilization. How much longer can we last?”

Mainlining, sensing the growing unrest and the fragility of their alliance, says, “We keep moving south. We find something… or we end up like Boom. It’s that simple.”

But Disco Fries, paranoia creeping into his voice, starts to distrust Mainlining. “Who died and made you the leader? Maybe you’re just looking out for yourself. Maybe you’ll turn on us next.”

Mainlining exchanges a knowing glance with Evan39. A silent pact is formed. “We need to stay strong,” he says, his voice cold and calculating. “But if Disco Fries is going to be a problem… maybe we should handle it before it gets out of hand.”

Scene 5: The Treacherous Act – Disco Fries’ Dark Demise

Disco Fries turns away, his paranoia thick in the air, muttering incoherently about “where are the donuts,” his hands shaking from the cold and hunger. Mainlining and Evan39 exchange a silent agreement; there is no room for weakness or dissent in this brutal wilderness.

Mainlining creeps closer, Boom's old baseball bat gripped tightly in his hands, and swings hard at Disco Fries' shoulder with a sickening crack. Disco Fries howls in pain, stumbling forward, clutching at his broken shoulder. Tears stream down his face as he staggers around, struggling to keep his balance on the slippery ice. His breathing is ragged, each gasp forming a cloud of mist in the frigid air.

"Mainlining! Why?" he cries out, his voice breaking, half in anguish, half in disbelief. "I thought… we were friends… We were just bumping threads!"

Mainlining, his face set in cold determination, follows Disco Fries, who staggers like a wounded animal, slipping and sliding on the uneven terrain. "Friends don’t let friends get them killed," he mutters grimly. "You're a liability, Fries. This is survival of the fittest."

Disco Fries, panic-stricken and disoriented, tries to run, but his broken shoulder makes him stumble, each movement sending waves of pain through his body. He falls to his knees, sobbing, clutching his shattered shoulder. "Please… Mainlining… please!" he begs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mainlining doesn’t hesitate. He swings the bat again, this time with brutal precision, connecting with Disco Fries' temple. The sound of the impact echoes across the frozen wasteland. Disco Fries collapses, his body twitching momentarily before going still, his eyes wide open in shock and betrayal.

Evan39 watches, his stomach turning, but a strange calmness settling over him. "Thanks, Mainlining, for handling that," he mutters, his voice flat, the desperation hardening him to the reality of their choices. The cold air hangs heavy with the scent of fear and freshly spilled blood.

Mainlining breathes heavily, drops the bat, and glances at Evan39. “It was him or us. He was becoming a liability,” he says, almost matter-of-factly.

Evan39 nods, but beneath his calm exterior, his heart is conflicted—torn between his survival instincts and his growing feelings for Mainlining.

Scene 6: The Final Two – Evan39's Death and Last Wishes

With Disco Fries gone, Mainlining and Evan39 are the last two standing. They know their odds of survival are slim, but they press on. The Arctic wind howls around them, a chilling symphony of their isolation. Each step is heavier than the last, their bodies fueled by a gruesome necessity.

Evan39, shivering violently, his breath shallow and labored, suddenly falls to his knees. "Mainlining... I can’t… I can’t go on," he whispers, a hint of desperation and longing in his voice.

Mainlining’s eyes narrow, calculating. "Evan, we're almost there. Just a little further," he says, deceptively calm. But he knows the truth—there’s nowhere to go, and nothing left to save them.

Evan39, sensing the end is near, starts dropping increasingly obvious hints. "You know… Mainlining… if we don’t maek it… maybe it’s better this way. I mean… who wants to go back to grocery store bullshit and empty apartments?” He pauses, looks up at Mainlining with a mixture of admiration and resignation, “Maybe… you could… just make it quick.”

Mainlining raises an eyebrow, playing along. "What are you suggesting, Evan?" he asks with a mock innocence.

Evan39 grins weakly, his lips cracked from the cold. "I mean… if you happen to have a bat and a bit of spare time, I wouldn't say no,” he jokes, half-seriously, his breath forming faint clouds in the icy air. “But, uh… a kiss first wouldn’t hurt, y’know, just to make it feel less… transactional?”

Mainlining chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "Always the romantic, huh?" He reaches for Boom's baseball bat, raising it high.

Evan39 closes his eyes, a serene smile crossing his face. “I’ve always loved you, Mainlining… even when you were just a poaster on a screen. Make it quick… and tell Boom in the afterlife… he still owes me $20.”

Mainlining hesitates for a split second, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of some deeper connection he won’t allow himself to acknowledge. But then, he brings the bat down with a swift, merciless blow to the back of Evan39's head. The sound echoes across the frozen wasteland, mingling with the howling wind.

Evan39's body falls limp in the snow. Mainlining stands over him, sighs deeply, and mutters, "Well, at least now I don’t have to listen to another rant about grocery store bull$hit."

After a moment of reflection, Mainlining leans down and begins to strip the body of anything useful. He carves into Evan39’s flesh with a jagged rock, muttering to himself about the nutritional benefits of lean meat in desperate circumstances. The taste is harsh and metallic, but he forces it down, chewing with a determined resolve. He knows that consuming Evan39’s body will give him a few more days—maybe enough to reach safety, maybe not. At this point, survival is all that matters.

Scene 7: The Final Betrayal and Unexpected Salvation

Mainlining trudges on, now alone, his breath visible in the frigid air. He is weary, his body aching from cold and exhaustion. The days pass in a blur, and the situation grows even grimmer. But just as despair threatens to overtake him, a figure emerges from the icy mist—a beautiful Inuit woman, with a body of perfect proportions and eyes that glint with both warmth and mystery.

The figure seemed to glide across the snow, untouched by the cold, her eyes glinting with an almost supernatural warmth. For a moment, Mainlining wondered if he was hallucinating, another mirage in the frost—but then her hand was in his, pulling him away from the frozen abyss.

Without a word, she takes Mainlining's hand, guiding him away from the death and desolation. Together, they journey through the unforgiving tundra, her knowledge of the land and survival keeping them alive. At night, they huddle together for warmth, and Mainlining finds himself captivated by her beauty and strength.

They fall into a passionate whirlwind romance under the Northern Lights, her laughter echoing through the endless night, and Mainlining finally feels a sense of peace. He becomes known in her village for his strange stories of survival, finding solace in a place that had initially promised nothing but despair.

Mainlining’s tale ends not with death, but with a new beginning—one filled with laughter, love, and a strange comfort he never expected to find in the Arctic. His story becomes legend on the AutoAdmit boards, a tale of grim determination, unexpected romance, and, above all, survival against all odds.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5593980&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310684",#48083494)

you’re not alone.

i am mapping out the optimal escape routes from the

"machine's" reach, Boom is reprogramming his wheelchair into a high-speed getaway vehicle, and fat fuck Disco is negotiating with the void itself.

besides, wouldn't you rather "go" in Nunavut than in some dive bar off Capitol Hill surrounded by homele$$ freak fucks?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5593980&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310684",#48096929)