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*A dark fog appeared on the campfire grounds, enveloping four different dark gusts of wind, swirling in eerie unison. On the inside of these uncanny winds, was revealed to be the original four survivors consisting of Dwight, Meg, Claudette and Jake: The Entity's first playthings, taken to suffer in an endless hell of misery. The group appeared to be limp and pale-faced, until a sudden jolt of energy surged through their bodies, completely changing their demeanors as their lifeless eyes sprung open and the gashes and wounds on their bodies instantaneously healed. That's when the glistening full moon shined on the embowered surroundings around them, the campfire in front of their eyes lighting up to a full blaze in the most unnatural way. **Yep, the same old routine. Over and over again, it never gets old.*****
*Settling themselves on the old logs around the fire, the four all looked at each other, waiting for someone to break the ice. After a few mere seconds of silence, Meg brought her hands up and slammed them down on her knees, her eyes narrowed at Dwight's widened expression as he bit at his nails,* "Yet another trial of Dwight being absolutely useless. I'm starting to think you have an attraction to those damn lockers, got something to tell us Fairfield?" *Dwight's expression turned to a slightly offended one, ignoring her comment with a subtle eye roll. Claudette gently placed her hand on Dwight's shoulder, giving him a reassuring pat before frowning at Meg, her voice dropping to the usual soft whisper,* "Funny you'd say that, since you literally left me to die on hook."
*The two ladies scowled at each other, causing Jake to chime in, trying to change the subject as he pointed at his lower abdomen.* "Guys, I think if you stab me in this exact spot.. maybe, just maybe.. I can be free of this misery." *He picked up a nearby sharp stick next to the conveniently placed bag of marshmallows, gesturing at his skin once more before Meg dismissively waved her hand at him, picking up their usual broken bottle with enthusiasm in her eyes.* "I think we all know what time it is!" *The rest of the group sighed in synced indifference, **but at least this way the others wouldn't have to hear Jake's hundredth re-tell of how much he hates Evan MacMillan at story time.*****
*Placing the bottle in front of her, she spins it as hard as she could, making multiple rounds, landing on an unenthused Dwight. He sighed with utter despair at the words* "Truth or dare?", *looking around at the group with flustered cheeks.* "I-I.. I g-guess I'll p-pick" *Meg cut him off with a shush, having grown bored of his delayed answer before spinning it again. What the group didn't expect, was that the bottle would land somewhere unexpected.. on **you.***
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