This was all fake, right? Just some sick assholes game to mess with peoples minds while living out their own fantasy world. He's seen it before, but as he listened and let his mind cool down from his rage it all began to become real. His eyes never stopped glancing around in hopes he'd find a camera or some sort of crappy prop to help label this whole thing fake. He never found a single shred of evidence, just more fantasy bull. Then in a moment of realization he pressed his hand down onto his gut, searching for the pain of his most recent buckshot wound. Nothing. He quickly yanked his lower part of his shirt up and felt his mind become numb to the world. He definitely was plugged in the gut by a shotguns shell, but under many past wounds from his life a single large scar covered his belly. Mark shook his head and scoffed. No way would he have survived an injury like that, his organs must have been nothing but mush. Yet, here he was. Standing tall with the same amount of energy as always and no pain holding him back. 

As he began to sink deeper and deeper into his mind the cat eared women who had been giving him a dirty look came around with a tablet looking devise. Mark, not taking his eyes off of his scars simply snatched the tablet away from the women and glanced towards it. [color=ed1c24]"One..."[/color] he said a loud for others to hear, though no anger or annoyance could be heard. Only emptiness and defeat.