Board Thread:Fanmade/@comment-26912075-20180826001644/@comment-36852367-20180911153147

''"My god, it actually worked! I got away with it! But, they took my gun... eh, I'll just take one from someone else." ''Carlo thinks.

He fully turns back to normal, stands up, takes the backpack that Casino Royale was carrying and goes to his tent to fix up his leg wounds.

"Fucking idiot cop... thinking those balls of his are gonna get him through the race... it doesn't matter if they took my gun. I'll just slit his throat with my car-", - he mutters to himself, as he bandages his wounds, before suddenly speaking up - "Wait, where did my card go? Did the native take it? Ah, goddamnit. I'll go check."

He hobbles out of his tent and sees his playing card laying on the ground. After picking up and cleaning it, he goes back to fix up the last wounds on his legs and eat.