NOTICE: I WROTE THIS STORY AS XXCHAZYWOOXX, HOWEVER MY EMAIL TO THAT ACCOUNT WAS LOST SINCE I DID NOT USE IT IN THE TWO YEARS THAT SEPARATE CHAPTERS 5&6. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE PASSWORD TO THAT ACCOUNT OR THE EMAIL I USED.

BOTH STORIES DO NOT GO BY THE SAME NAME. THE PREVIOUS STORY WAS, "THE HANGOVER PART 3," THIS ONE IS KNOWN AS, "THE HANGOVER 2 AND 1/2"

I DID NOT CHANGE ANYTHING THAT I PREVIOUSLY WROTE.

MY NEW ACCOUNT IS: AVENGERTARDIS. I AM THE SAME PERSON AS XXCHAZYWOOXX.

YOU MAY SEE A DIFFERENCE IN WRITING STYLE, I WAS SICK FOR A VERY LONG TIME, AND I HAD TWO HEAD INJURIES.

MY NEW STYLE INCLUDES LESS DIALOG AND MORE DETAILS. IT'S NOT NECESSARILY A BAD THING, BUT IT MIGHT BE JARRING WHEN YOU REACH CHAPTER 6. I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU ARE ABLE TO MOVE PAST THIS AND CONTINUE READING MY WORK.

PLEASE R&R AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I APPRERCIATE ALL FEEDBACK, BE IT POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE. PM ME IF YOU NEED TOO.

I CAN BE REACHED AT AVENGERTARDIS IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE SEEN AND DO NOT WISH TO SPOIL IT USING A REVIEW.

A/N- Please, notify me if there are any spelling mistakes; I will fix them as quick as I can. Also, review, and help me come up with some crazy ideas to put into this story. It might help me move along faster.

I know this is short, but it is just the prologue.

Prologue

"I'm sorry Tracey,' he coughed into the phone, "we did it again."

The air was hot and thick; a terrible combination. The three men stood with their tired bodies; a shroud of hopelessness surrounding them. Their clothing was in tatters and soaked with sweat. Each of them kept their eyes on the ground, with the exception of the speaker, who kept his eyes to the horizon.

The speaker softened his voice slightly, as if he was trying to physically cushion the blow.

The other two sat patiently, trying to home in on what the other person was saying on the phone.

"We really fucked up…" He said quietly. "We lost him, I'm so sorry."

Now, it's not like this hasn't happened before. No these three tired men faced similar circumstances. They each had their own adventure, small or large, and they each survived it with a minimal amount of therapy.

But this was still entirely different. This was new.

"Just tell her," Alan spoke up, his head still hanging on his chest, and his shoulders bunched up near his ears, as if he was hiding himself between them.

Next to him, Stu nodded, "It's the only way. She's going to find out one way or the other."

"Phil's dead Tracey," Doug said. He lowered his head himself and slowly glanced at the other two men looking for some kind of message.

The other two looked away, keeping their eyes on the sandy ground.

Dough breathed in deeply, "and...we killed him."