"I'm here in New Orleans, where the annual Mardi Gras celebration took a turn for the tragic last night. The revelry turned into a riot which left 15 dead, and many more injured." a reporter was saying
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Well he wasn't limping, or bleeding anymore, Connor was still walking carefully. He'd heal soon enough, but right now he was on the lookout for friends that he hoped had survived.
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He had a few bruises, some scrapes and a killer headache that a paramedic was certain was a concussion.
"Hey," he spotted Connor nearby. "I don't suppose this was all just some wild dream of my crazy imagination is it?"
God, he wished the world would stop spinnning around him. It was beginning to make him nauseous.
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"You just seem to have trouble followin' ya. What's up with that?"
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"Emma?"
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