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Miles to Go Before I Sleep; Open
Topic Started: Nov 9 2012, 03:17 AM (1,601 Views)
Laurels
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Louisa let out a soft moan. Her head was throbbing and she felt a stiffness in her back. She began to slowly open her eyes.

God, I must have fallen asleep at the worst time. Probably should have tried to get to my bed before succumbing. Why is it so dark anyways? Wait, why can't I breathe?

She began to shake. Something was over her head. She couldn't see in front of her, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

Oh God, where am I? What's happening? Wait-no! No no no no no no no no no no.

That's when she remembered. She was in the auditorium of Patriot High, sitting between her friends, Maxim and Tori. It was Announcement Day, a day where all Americans were forced to sit and watch as some class somewhere was chosen to be publicly executed on The Program. Louisa hated it. The odds of being picked were astronomical, but she knew it meant that several students were going to be forced to die at the behest of their corrupt government.

When The General began the introduction, Louisa hardly paid attention. It was all bullshit. There was no pride to dying in this game. It was all to take perfectly decent teenagers and make them monsters. That's when he announced that Patriot High in Milwaukee, Wisconsin had been chosen. She immediately grabbed the hands of her friends. The Program had come to their school. It defied all odds, but their school was picked. Even if her grade wasn't picked, students she passed in the halls every day would be chosen for their terrifying fate.

Unfortunately, the eleventh grade class was chosen. Louisa's grip tightened. It was official. Her class was going to die. That's when names started being called. Louisa held her breath. She couldn't imagine who would be picked.

“Louisa Bloom.”

She was silent, and began to shake. She had been called. She was going to die. She could see the looks of terror in Maxim and Tori's faces. She didn't want to let go of their hands. They had been her friends for so long, The Lost Children, as she called them. Now they were being forced apart. She began to cry.

Maxim's name was soon called. Tori's was also called. They were all going to die. Part of Louisa hoped that someone wouldn't be picked, but that wasn't the case. When everyone was called, they were all forced out of the school and herded onto the bus. That's when she heard the gunfire. Some students had tried resisting, and they were gunned down. Louisa could only scream as she got on the bus. After that, Louisa found herself under a tent, handcuffed to a desk. She was supposed to be in the game now, so why was there a bag on her head?

That's when Louisa heard a door open. Some footsteps followed, getting louder as they approached her. Someone tore the bag off her head. She gasped for air and tried to look around. The room was dark, except for a single lamp, pointed at her face.

“No,” she muttered.

She looked down. Her hands were indeed handcuffed and chained to the table. She then realized that her feet were also shackled to the ground. Louisa was in an interrogation room. But why were they interrogating her?

“Please, where am I?” she said, unsure who would respond. “This isn't The Program, why am I here?”

That's when she realized that someone was seated at the other end of the table. She was pretty certain that no one sat down when the door opened, so they must have been there the whole time.

“Louisa Abigail Bloom,” the figure began. “Born June 12, 2009 to Jason and Clarice Bloom of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Your parents are restaurant proprietors who own a family owned pizza parlor called Bloom's Pizza, boasting that you have the best pizza in town. You are the eldest of three siblings, followed by, Amos Gerard Bloom, age 12, and Marie Claire Bloom, age 5. You attend Patriot High and are on the A Honor Roll, placing you in the top of your class. Your hobbies include reading poetry and philosophy, poetry writing, riding your bike, making pizza, and hanging out with your friends, Maxim Senders and Victoria Gavlik. This is indeed who you are, is it not?”

Louisa was silent. This man knew everything about her.

“Yes, of course, that is me.”

“Then do you admit to writing this poem.”

She couldn't see, but she could see the man was holding a small journal.

“In the time of silence, she will come to ring a bell. When the world stands still, she will turn it herself. If a child cries, she will cradle him in her arms.”

The man set the journal down.

“Did you write this?”

“Y-yes, I wrote that. That was a poem I was working on in school.”

“Of course,” the man said, “this is the journal we confiscated off your persons when we took you back at Patriot High. Now, let me read something else that you wrote.”

The man cleared his voice.

“The monster in red marches north. The monster in white marches south. The monster in blue marches west. Wherever they go, misery follows. The Red brings fire, scorching the land, removing what was there. The White brings snow, slowly poisoning the land and extinguishing life. The Blue brings the water, washing away any resistance.”

Louisa panicked. This poem was locked in a chest in her room. No one is supposed to know about it, nor should they know how to open it. The man continued.

“Soon, the world is only red, white, and blue. The Green is gone, burned, frozen, and swept away. The Red, The White, and The Blue are merciless. Anything Green is sin, and must be wiped out. Red, White, and Blue are merciless, not even a Green child can quell their anger. But Green prospers. Green can only grow, birth, nurture. Green may not be as strong as Red, White, and Blue, but it can always continue despite the cycle of destruction. It will take time, but soon, Green will fight back, pushing Red, White, and Blue back, until nothing but Green remains.”

The man tossed the journal across the table.

“You wrote this.”

Louisa was silent.

“Yes.”

“I have to say, Miss Bloom, There sure is a lot like this. Let's see another poem. 'Spiders are only strong if flies are charmed by the shine of the web.' Quite the metaphor there. 'My country cannot stand if its legs are burdened by chains.' Oh my, and this one: 'If this is where I must live, then perhaps death offers more freedom.' Well, I think there's no point in going over any more of this filth.”

Louisa tried to follow the man's movements as he stood up and began to pace back and forth on his side of the table.

“Miss Bloom, what we have here is clear anti-American sentiments. You are a traitor to the country, an enemy of state. We cannot allow such a person to continue on in our nation.”

“Please, no one reads these but me,” Louisa begged, tears forming in her eyes. “I'm not a terrorist. I'm just a child.”

“But you could be,” snapped the man. “Words like these can be spread, dissent can grow, a revolution could be organized. What we have here are words that can destroy everything that we know and love.”

The man picked up the chest and dumped the contents on the table. The table was now covered with small journals and scraps of paper. The man then chucked the chest against the wall, causing Louisa to let out a small scream.

“This is treason, and you, Miss Louisa Bloom of Milwaukee, have admitted to writing such treasonous material. For that, I must carry out your sentence.”

“Sentence?” she asked. She then froze.

No. He means-

“Yes. You are to be executed. You have committed treason, and we cannot allow a single person to be spared for these crimes. Your death will ensure that these thought and actions cease to be a problem for our nation.”

“Killing me will mean nothing!” Louisa shouted. “Dissent grows naturally the more the government continues to wage war on other nations and oppress its citizens. You will bring your own destruction, and killing me will simply make me a martyr.”

The man was silent.

“Yes, that is true, but we are not ready for a war on our home front. You are to be executed, Louisa Bloom, and we are to carry out your sentence.”

Louisa looked down.

“Fine. Take me to the gallows, put a firing squad in front of me, do whatever you must. If you seriously think I'm enough of a threat to national security, then just fucking kill me.”

“Miss Bloom, it is not as simple as that,” the man said, sitting down again. “You are a criminal, and you need to be punished before you are executed.”

Louisa looked up.

“If that's the case, then why didn't you just let me die in The Program?”

The man chuckled.

“You really thought we picked your school for The Program?”

The man continued laughing.

“It was never about your school. We picked your school because of you. We knew you were a problem, so we used the guise of The Program in order to carry out your execution.”

Louisa was silent.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

The man stood up.

“Why, it's quite simple, Miss Bloom.”

The man clapped his hands. Suddenly, a bright light appeared above Louisa's head, filling the entire room with light. The walls around her suddenly moved upwards, carried into the ceiling. Louisa looked to her left and realized where she was: a theater. To her left were rows and rows filled with people sitting in chairs, laughing and gawking at her. A soldier moved in and released her from the handcuffs as another released her chains from the floor. They grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her out of her chair, forcing her to stand and face the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the man into a microphone, “you have witnessed the confession and sentencing of Louisa Bloom. It is time to carry out her execution.”

The audience roared wildly. Louisa got a better look of the crowd. Men and women, all dressed in their finest evening wear. This was a special event for them. She turned towards the man. She couldn't make out his face, but he was in full military clothing. This was a special ceremony, and he was wearing all his badges and pins. He was honored to be here.

“Now folks, it is time for us to show Miss Louisa Bloom exactly how her death will occur. Johnson, bring it out.”

Louisa turned and saw a soldier walk out with a metal box in his hands. The man walked over to the soldier and opened the box. Louisa couldn't see what it was until the man turned around. It looked like a regular silver colored pistol.

“Now folks, this is a very special gun that our best scientists have been working on. It has been approved by Our General as the best method for executing traitors. Now, let me demonstrate what it does.”

One of the soldiers holding Louisa forced her to hold her right arm out. His grip was tight, she couldn't get him to let go despite her resistance. The man walked over to Louisa and stood in front of her. For some reason, she couldn't make out his face.

“Hold out your hand,” he told her.

She spat in his face.

“Fuck you.”

She knew that if she was going to die, she might as well continue fighting till the very end. The man simply grinned. Louisa wasn't sure why he was grinning like that. That's when she felt his fist collide with her face. Louisa cried out, but her hand was loosened. The man quickly put the pistol in her hand. She raised the gun up and tried to shoot him, but when she pulled the trigger, nothing happened.

The man laughed again before turning to the crowd.

“Isn't she quite the little rebel?”

The audience laughed.

“Sorry, but I should have told you, the gun isn't loaded yet. But thank you for putting yourself in the position we needed you to be in.”

Louisa tried to speak, but felt her hand start to burn. She looked at the gun in her hand. It was hot. It was burning her hand. She cried out in pain.

“Yes folks, this is a very special gun. The moment you get into firing position, it becomes a part of you. Louisa Bloom, you will never be able to let go of the gun, but now you know how to use it.”

The man got close to her.

“And who to use it on.”

The gun cooled off. Louisa could see that it was fused to her hand, the skin having grafted itself onto the cold metal of the gun, her index finger fused to the trigger. She was terrified.

“Now, it's time to begin. Miss Bloom, you are a traitor to America, and you must be exterminated. However, you can't go just yet. We need you to see how much damage you have caused with your poems and writings. We need everyone here to see what happens to those who slander the glorious name of America. Bring her out.”

Louisa heard some shouting to her right. She looked over and saw some soldiers bringing a figure out onto stage. The figure was tied up, her hands behind her back. She was swearing, cursing the soldiers and the crowd. One soldier then grabbed the girl's head and lifted it up. Louisa gasped.

“Dylan!”

Dylan Walker..... wasn't she selected on Announcement Day?

“Louisa Bloom, it is time to begin. Move her over to Miss Walker.

Louisa felt the soldiers push her as they moved her across stage. They placed her in front of Dylan, with enough space between the two girls.

About an arm's length apart. Shit!

“Alright, it's time to get started. Louisa Bloom, you are guilty of treason. Before you are formally executed, we must have you atone for your crimes. The best way we feel for you to do that is to play the role of state executioner.”

“What?” Louisa gasped. “I'm not going to kill her. I can't kill her!”

“Oh, you will kill her,” the man responded. “Johnson, give her some ammo.”

A soldier grabbed Louisa's gun hand and held a long metal rod. He placed the rod in the bottom of the gun, locking it in.

“You see Miss Bloom, this gun is very special indeed. It never leaves your grip, it can take large magazine clips like the one Johnson just placed inside, and it will not fail to kill. All you have to do is point at a living target, and you will fire. The gun will make sure you pull the trigger, it's a part of you now. We'll make sure you aim carefully. Now, let's begin!”

The crowd began to cheer wildly. Louisa began to panic as one of the soldiers raised her arm. The gun was now pointing directly at Dylan's skull.

“Louisa! You minstrel bitch!” Dylan screamed. “This is all your fault! This is all your fault!”

Louisa began to cry.

I can't do it. I can't kill her. YES YOU CAN. What? KILL HER. Who's that? KILL HER NOW!

Louisa felt her index finger tighten around the trigger. She cried out, but it was muted by a loud popping sound. The gun fired a bullet into Dylan's head. Louisa watched as the back of Dylan's head burst open, spraying brain matter, skull fragments, and blood behind her. Louisa screamed, the audience cheered.

“Oh, silly me,” the man said, “I forgot to tell you how powerful those bullets in the cartridge are. Get used to the sight, Miss Bloom. You'll be seeing it a lot. Alright, get the dead bitch off stage. We got a schedule to keep.”

Louisa was sobbing now. She had really killed her. Dylan was dead at her hand. She never liked the girl, she always thought she was a hypocrite and a bully, but she didn't deserve this.

“Let me go!” shouted a boy off stage.

Louisa looked up. The soldiers were already dragging Dylan's body off stage, and bringing another person out.

“I'm a patriot! My duty is to serve America! I want to serve America! Please, I'm an American!” the voice shouted.

Louisa froze. They were bringing out Brian Callison. The boy in his fine suit was brought out on stage and forced to kneel in Dylan's blood.

“Please,” he begged the soldiers, “I've done nothing wrong! I would never betray America! Kill this bitch, but don't kill me! I can do so much for America!”

The soldier raised her arm, placing the gun at Brian's head. He began to scream and continued plead.

KILL HIM.

Louisa pulled the trigger, and Brian spoke no more.

“Okay, next!” shouted the man.

The process continued. Another student would be brought out, Louisa would point the gun at their head, then she'd pull the trigger. Another dead body to be dragged off stage. More blood to coat the stage floor.

Louisa couldn't stand it. Her eyes stung from crying and her voice was hoarse. The process was too much. It was bad enough they forced her to look into the eyes of each student as she took their life. Felicia LaChapelle was quietly crying as Louisa executed her. Carlyle Shotton couldn't even look at her when he was placed in front of her. She knew they all hated her for what she was doing.

“Okay, next person.”

Please God, make it stop.

Louisa looked up and gasped. She immediately began to shake and scream.

“No! Please! Not her! Don't make me do it! Don't make me kill her!”

Tori Gavlik was then placed in front of Louisa. Louisa's childhood friend was kneeling in the blood of her classmates, the blood Louisa had spilled. Now she was going to die.

“Louisa, please, this is a joke, right?” Tori said.

Louisa's arm was raised.

“Tori, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

KILL HER

“No!”

There was a loud pop, and Tori fell to the floor. Louisa screamed again, but the audience cheered.

“How can you watch this?” she screamed at the audience. “How can you let them do this to us?”

“Next person!”

“No!” she began to cry. “No one else! Please! Make it stop!”

Louisa watched as Maxim was brought onto the stage.

“Please, he's my friend, don't let me do this!”

“You will do it,” insisted the man, “because you need to be punished.”

Louisa turned to Maxim.

“Louisa, I can't believe you,” he said, keeping his eyes to the floor. “All this time, you were committing these crimes. You said you were my friend. But now I'm going to die.”

Maxim looked up and stared Louisa in the eye. She had seen that look before, all those years ago when he lost his old friends. The ferocity she hoped to never see in his face.

“I hate you. You can go to Hell.”

Her arm was raised, and the trigger was pulled. More blood on the floor.

Louisa continued to cry. She felt like collapsing to floor, but the soldiers were making sure she stood up.

“Next person!” called the man.

Louisa turned to him.

“But that's everyone! That's everyone from Patriot High!”

The man chuckled.

“What made you think we were only having you kill your classmates?”

Louisa's eyes widened. She turned and saw a much older man brought before her. The man was placed on the ground.

“Dad?”

Louisa's father looked at the ground.

“After all I did for you,” Jason Bloom said, “the home I gave you, your food, your clothes, the years I spent in a war zone, you were writing such trash in my home.”

“Dad, I'm sorry.”

Louisa's arm was raised. Her father looked her in the eyes.

“I'm sorry Dad.”

“You're not my daughter. You're a monster.”

Louisa pulled the trigger. Her dad collapsed onto the stage. Louisa watched as they dragged him off stage, her eyes fixed on his lifeless body.

She was then reminded of what was going on when a young boy was placed before her. Amos.

“No, please! He's just a kid!” she cried out.

“Louisa? Why did you do it?” asked Amos.

Louisa's arm was raised.

“Amos, I'm so sorry,” she cried as she pulled the trigger.

In an instant, her little brother was dead. The soldiers began to drag his body off stage.

“Please, no more,” she whimpered. “I'm sorry. I deserve to die.”

“Last person.”

“What?”

Louisa looked up. It was almost over.

Wait, how can there only be one person left? FUCK!

Louisa watched as a small girl with curly red hair was brought out onto the stage. The girl had been crying for a while, and she screamed when she saw the blood on the ground.

“Please, Marie's just a child, she's innocent!” Louisa begged to the man.

Marie was placed on the ground. Louisa's arm was raised. She tightened her finger around the trigger

“Louisa?” was all Marie could say before her head was blown open.

Louisa watched Marie's small body fall to the ground. The soldiers finally let go of her and let her collapse to the ground. Louisa screamed hysterically and sobbed as the crowd jeered at her.

This can't be real. Please, this can't be real. I couldn't have killed them all.

“This is the price of your since, Louisa Bloom,” said the man. “Your treason has killed everyone you ever loved. Well, almost everyone you love.”

Louisa turned to the man. The man took his hat off, finally allowing Louisa to get a good look at his face. She had been wrong. It wasn't a man. It was a woman. Her mother.

“Mom?”

“You killed my husband and my other two children. Do not call me 'mom',” she said.

“Mom, how could you let them do this to us? How could you let me kill Dad, Amos, and Marie?! Why are you here?!?”

Louisa just didn't understand.

“Because,” her mother said, “I love my country, and I will destroy anything that threatens it. Even my family.”

Clarice Bloom approached Louisa. Louisa saw her mother reach for something behind her back. Her mother was now brandishing a pistol. Louisa panicked.

“No! Please! Don't!”

Louisa tried to run, but the soldiers on stage grabbed her and held her up. She pointed her gun at the soldiers and pulled the trigger, but there was no gunfire.

“My stupid child,” Clarice said. “We only gave you enough bullet to execute your classmates. The time for your execution has come.”

The soldiers held Louisa up, making her face the crowd. The crowd was wild. They were shouting insults at her, laughing at her misery. Louisa felt the barrel of a gun against the back of her head.

“This is what happens to traitors,” Clarice said. “Louisa Abigail Bloom, I hereby execute you in the name of America.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” screamed Louisa.

There was a bang, and then nothing.



“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!”

Louisa opened her eyes and began to pant. She took a quick look at the area around her. She wasn't in some theater. She wasn't killing people on stage.

“Oh god,” she cried out. “What the fuck?”

She began to sob quietly. She was in The Program.

Girl #02 Louisa Bloom: Start.

Louisa took a look at the area around her. She was lying on the ground in a forest, or what was left of a forest. Louisa could see tree stumps all around her. She rested her back against a stump and continued to look around.

Her gaze soon focused on the bag lying next to her.

Okay, supplies. All the stuff I need to survive.

Louisa pulled the bag closer to herself and opened it up. She began to sift through the items in the bag. Bread, crackers, map, flashlight, jacket, it looked like she had everything she needed.

That's when her hand felt something cold and metal. Her eyes widened.

No. It can't be.

Louisa pulled the object out. It was a black handgun. She felt the gun begin to shake in her hands.

They really want me to kill them. They really want me to kill.

Louisa put the gun back in the bag and zipped it up. She buried her hands in her face and began to sob.

We're gonna die. Maxim, Tori, we're all going to die. Even if one of had to live, that would mean that we'd have to kill. I don't know if I could do that. I mean, it's not like Max and Tori would give in and start playing. What would be the point in going home if I lost all my friends?

Louisa wiped her eyes and looked at the sky above her.

I can't let this game take me. I just can't.
Edited by Laurels, Nov 9 2012, 03:20 AM.
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((Dylan Walker continued from Sketchy Ponderings.))

Dylan was uncomfortable in so many ways. She was dizzy, presumably from blood loss, which in turn was making her nauseous because the world was acting like a drunken merry-go-round, her scarf had gotten blood all over it and gotten all stiff and sticky, she was starting to get hungry but dear old Maxi-Pad, may he be eaten by wild animals or cannibalistic classmates, had taken all her rations, and the area where her ear had been was throbbing worse than ever.

And she'd been awake, what... a couple of hours? At most?

This was not going well.

She kept touching the bandages covering the right side of her head. Missing an ear... she was going to look lopsided for the rest of her presumably short life. Besides not being to hear that well, it felt odd because... well, it was her ear. That's something she would have expected to stick around. Though in a purely sentimental sense, she didn't really care that it was gone. Just meant a little less brown that she had to be ashamed of.

But she hadn't been gunned down... well, gunned down lethally... yet. That was better than some kids in Program did, right?

And then, as if she had jinxed herself by saying 'at least it can't get any worse,' (even though she knew better than to ever say that) she stumbled into a clearing. Grabbing one of the trees on the edges of the clearing to steady herself, making a loud rustling noise as she bumped into the branches, she saw that someone was already there. Someone holding a gun.

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!

Louisa Bloom. Best friend of the guy who'd just shot her ear off.

Yay.
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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After managing to compose herself, Louisa decided she should try to figure out her plan. Yes, she was in The Program with a bomb around her neck, but she needed to find a way to survive with some moral integrity remaining. She still needed to find a way to make the most of her time remaining on this earth.

Great, so I am going to have to accept the gun.

Louisa opened her bag and pulled the Beretta out. She found that there was an instruction manual along with the gun. She spent the next few minutes reading the manual, learning how to clean the gun, how to turn the safety off, and how to load ammo. Her bag included a few clips of ammo, so she made sure to load a clip into the gun.

Well, I hope this works. I didn't think I'd ever use a gun until I was forcibly drafted.

Louisa began to look around the area. It was then that she realized that she was sitting in a very open area. She could have been focusing too much on how to use the gun, allowing someone to sneak up and kill her.

Don't think like that. Your classmates are going to start killing each other, but that does not mean you have to-DYLAN?!?!?

Louisa heard a loud rustling sound and saw Dylan Walker standing next to a nearby tree. Louisa was never fond of Dylan, but right now, she couldn't focus on their past relationship. Dylan looked sick. Louisa could see there was blood on Dylan, and a large bandage wrapped around her head.

"Oh my god!" shouted Louisa. "Dylan, what happened!?!"

Louisa kept a tight grip on the Beretta. If someone had already decided to hurt Dylan, it might mean that someone dangerous was nearby. Dylan didn't look like a threat right now, but clearly, someone decided to try and kill Dylan.

Oh god, it's just like what Yeats said: "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world." The game has really begun.

Louisa grabbed her bag and ran over to Dylan. It didn't matter what they were like back in Milwaukee. Someone had hurt Dylan, and Louisa had to do something. Anything.
Edited by Laurels, Nov 11 2012, 06:44 PM.
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The moment that Louisa noticed her, Dylan instinctively dropped her daypack and tried to raise her hands to show that she wasn't a threat. She'd learned her lesson. Daypacks, especially ones without food, weren't worth dying for.

But Louisa didn't shoot. Or mock her. Or laugh at her choice of weapon, though admittedly that was probably because she hadn't taken her 'weapon' out yet. Instead, she seemed shocked and concerned. Despite Dylan's usual dislike of Louisa (although she was the least objectionable of the 'Lost Children') she felt a sense of relief and gratitude. Even if not shooting niggers or other foreign kids on sight was a terrible idea.

“Thank god, Minstrel, you're not gunning people down,” Dylan said. While she still couldn't manage her cheerful grin that she'd always put on at school, she managed a very strained smile that made her appear constipated. She didn't want to appear too weak. That might be useful when she actually had a means of defending herself, but appearing weak when she actually was weak was a terrible idea.

To reinforce that she was not weak, she relinquished her grip on the nearby tree. The world swayed alarmingly for a moment and she grabbed the tree immediately again.

“Uhmm... what happened. Well...” Dylan pondered her words for a moment, wondering how to deliver the news. “Short version? Maxim's a dick who shot me and stole my food. It was... so not cool.” Subconsciously, she was slipping into the 'I'm-totally-not-bummed' persona she'd always taken on at school. It had cracks in it, like the fact that she couldn't smile in a way that didn't look constipated, and that even though Louisa's gun wasn't pointed at her it was still making her shake a little...

“That wasn't around here, though, so can you lower the gun, pleasepleaseplease?" Dylan said hurriedly, staring nervously at the gun. "I don't have a good weapon, it's not a trick. I just, uh... I just wanna sit down.”
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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((GMing approved))

Thank god, Minstrel, you're not gunning people down.

Louisa let out a small chuckle. Dylan was injured, and she still had the nerve to mock Louisa's passions. In a way, it was kind of ridiculous. They're in a valley somewhere being forced to kill one another, and Dylan wasn't beyond petty insults.

Oh, what am I doing, she's hurt!

Louisa ran closer to Dylan as she gripped the tree. She got a closer look at Dylan's injury. Whatever happened, it meant that Dylan was short one ear. Louisa felt a bit sick. Dylan's bandages were slightly colored from the blood, something that made Louisa a bit disgusted. Still, she needed to know what happened to Dylan.

Uhmm... what happened. Well... Short version? Maxim's a dick who shot me and stole my food. It was... so not cool.

Louisa's eyes widened. Maxim? Did she really say Maxim? Maxim shot her?

"W-what?!?" Louisa shouted.

That wasn't around here, though, so can you lower the gun, pleasepleaseplease? I don't have a good weapon, it's not a trick. I just, uh... I just wanna sit down.

"Oh, uh, sure, let me help you," Louisa said.

Louisa put the Beretta in the pocket of her cardigan and moved over to Dylan.

"Okay, cooperate with me," Louisa said.

Louisa stood to Dylan's right and put her right arm around Louisa's shoulder.

"Alright, let's get to one of those stumps."

Louisa began to walk towards one of the nearby stumps. She found it sort of hard to walk with Dylan, but she managed to get Dylan to a stump and sit her down. Louisa quickly ran over to her bag and brought it over to Dylan.

"Do you need some water? I'd bet the first aid kit has some painkillers. Let me check."

Louisa began to rummage through the bag, looking for anything to help Dylan.

"Okay, what exactly happened? You said Maxim shot you? Why the hell would he shoot you? That's not like him at all."

Louisa wasn't sure what to believe. Sure, Dylan could be a bitch, but would she really lie about this kind of thing? What would she gain telling Louisa that Maxim shot her? Then there was the dark option. Maybe Maxim shot Dylan in order to kill her. Was Maxim already playing the game? She wasn't sure if she was ready to accept that.

I have to be careful around him, but I need to talk to him. I need to get this straight.
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“I can walk, I got here by myself...” Dylan groaned, although she didn't physically struggle against the support. Admittedly, Louisa helping her was probably faster, especially given that once she got into the clearing there'd be nothing to lean against. Soon, she was seated on a stump. It did feel good to be able to sit down.

“You have water? I... I mean, I had water, but now I just have soda, and soda's great but it's not water.” Dylan looked at her bag before opening it and looking at the remains of the first-aid kit. “Uh. Are there painkillers in this? ...Well, shit, why didn't I check?”

Naturally, Louisa wanted to know the details about Maxim. Dylan nodded, although the action caused her to wince. “Right, uh... details. Sure, uh... just... water, water, water.” As soon as she saw the plastic bottle of liquid she grabbed it, unscrewed the lid and drank. Ohhh, sweet merciful god, it felt like the best thing she'd ever drunk. She drained half the bottle before stopping.

It was contrary to the idea of survival to give away supplies. She supposed Louisa would be one of those types that would refuse to play, at least at first. The fact that she hadn't shot Dylan already said enough. Dylan didn't know what her long-term plans were in this game and knew giving away her remaining things would be detrimental.

But Louisa had helped her, and... well, even if they had to be enemies again after this (because anyone who was alive in this game was an enemy in the long run) Dylan couldn't help but be grateful.

“Uhhh...” Dylan screwed the lid back on the bottle and placed it next to her. She looked down at her daypack, fingering the straps for a moment, before opening it and pulling out two out of twelve cans of the Stars and Stripes Cola. “I know this ain't really enough to pay back, but... here.” She placed the cans close to Louisa. “So, right, Maxim...

“Well, I was doodling on some rocks. Somewhere in...” Dylan gestured in the vague direction of where she'd come from, though honestly she wasn't sure if she'd gone in a straight line. “Somewhere in that direction. You'll know it when you see it, the rocks were in a little circle. And then Maxim jumped out with his rifle... it was one of those oldey-time ones, with the knife on the end. Knifle? No, a bayonet, that's what it's called. Anyway, he pointed it at us—right, there was another girl there, too—Audrey, I think—but she ran before he could really focus on her much."

Dylan skipped the part about trying to use a soda can as a grenade.

“Anyway, he wanted my stuff. And... uh, I know it's stupid, don't tell me... but I said no, because... well, didn't want to starve.” Dylan neglected to mention that she'd screamed at him and called him a hypocritical, cowardly assface at the same time. “Anyway, then he got pissed, yelled for a bit and—“ Dylan stopped abruptly as the memory of it, still fresh in her mind, overwhelmed her for a moment. She clenched her hands tightly for a moment, shivering a bit and trying to continue. “...Uh, well. He fired. I guess he grabbed my things and ran off afterwards, though I wasn't... erm... I didn't really see what he did. Was preoccupied. He must have stopped long enough to sort through the bag, he only took the food, water and flashlight.”

Dylan let out a long breath after she finished her explanation.

“Have to say, you guys got good luck in the draw. Maxi-Pad and his knifle. You and your handgun. I suppose Flip'll jump out of the bushes with a machine gun next."

Her mouth was dry again from all the chatter, so Dylan picked up the bottle again.

"Have to ask, Minstrel... you gonna go after him?"
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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Dylan accepted the water, claiming that she only had soda. Louisa figured that the soda was Dylan's weapon, since that sounded too outlandish for her to have on her own. This was confirmed when Dylan pulled two cans of soda out of her own bag and gave them to Louisa.

"Oh, thank you," she said.

Louisa placed the cans in her bag. She never had Stars and Stripes Cola before, but she figured that if it was cola, it was packed with caffeine. That legal drug could probably help her out in the evenings.

Dylan then went on to explain what happened. She had trouble explaining that Maxim got a rifle with a bayonet, but she made it clear what exactly he did. Apparently, he tried to rob Dylan and Audrey McKee and fired, shooting Dylan's ear and stealing her rations and batteries.

Louisa didn't know how to respond. She had no reason to believe Dylan was lying about Maxim shooting her, but that only made things worse. It really meant Maxim had robbed and injured Dylan. He would have done the same to Audrey, but she managed to get away. This was a lot to take in, and Louisa wasn't sure how to react.

Have to say, you guys got good luck in the draw. Maxi-Pad and his knifle. You and your handgun. I suppose Flip'll jump out of the bushes with a machine gun next.

Louisa didn't respond. Dylan took another sip from the water before speaking again.

Have to ask, Minstrel... you gonna go after him?

Louisa really didn't know how to respond. From what Dylan explained, it sounded like Maxim was taking a serious route in this hellish game. Was it her responsibility to talk him down, just like at home? Would he actually listen in these circumstances. Chasing after him might earn her a bullet in the chest and a bayonet to the throat.

Then again, I'm not completely harmless with my handgun. Wait, what am I thinking? Maxim is my friend. I can't forget that because he shot Dylan's ear off. He might chill out with his friends near him.

"I'm not sure at this point," Louisa said. "I mean, I want to, but I'll admit that I'm terrified. Terrified at the prospect of being gunned down by my friend. Terrified at possibly killing him. Terrified that he'll be completely lost to this insanity."

Louisa stood up.

"But I guess I should try. I'm pretty sure that if our roles were reversed, he'd want to calm me down. I need to find the Maxim of Milwaukee, not the Maxim of The Program. I just hope he's still out there."

Louisa grabbed her bag.

"Dylan, I'm so sorry that Maxim hurt you. If you don't want to be alone, I'll gladly accompany you around the arena. If you'd rather go your own way, I completely understand. But I don't want to be completely alone, and I'm sure you don't want to either. I know we have our differences, but right now, I think we could both use a friend."

Louisa had no idea if Dylan would accept that offer. Part of her felt certain that Dylan would reject it due to a desire to not see Maxim again. She wouldn't blame her if she chose to go elsewhere. But if they were all going to try and survive together, Maxim and Dylan might have to make up and move on.

"Oh, and her name is Tori," Louisa said. "We really should get beyond the petty names. We're going to have to grow up really quickly here."
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Louisa was still set on finding Maxim. That was worrying, and Dylan just couldn't see it ending well. Maybe he'd be nicer to Louisa. But it was a big maybe. When the chips were down, people would fight. The smart ones, anyway. And Maxim was already fighting.

Dylan thought he was a dick, yes. But the only unintelligent thing he'd done was not double tap while she was on the ground or take the first-aid kit. She was appreciative of Louisa for helping her, but at the same time she acknowledged that it was a stupid thing to do.

Dylan sipped a bit more water in order to gather her thoughts. On one hand, going after Maxim was almost certain death. But she was just as likely to run into Maxim again anyway. Plus, Louisa had a gun. It couldn't hurt, at least for now, to take her up on the offer of traveling together.

“Well. I'm not big on traveling alone right now, this is true. But I want to make a few things clear so you don't get all 'ooooh why'd you do that' at me later, okay?” As Dylan spoke, she stood up and tried to keep her balance. She didn't try to put on her smile or keep her tone lighthearted. She wanted Louisa to know that she was serious.

“First off, we see Maxim? I am running. I don't need to get shot twice to realise that hanging around him's a bad idea. Maybe he'll be nicer to you. Maybe he won't. I'm not sticking around to find out.

“Secondly, you have to know... that I want to live. Which means that, ultimately, you and me are enemies, because you—just like everyone else—are in the way of me leaving this valley.” Dylan started practicing walking around the stump, occasionally reaching out to steady herself. “Nothing personal, I really appreciate you helping me and all, but in the long run this isn't going to work. But as long as we're traveling together, it'll be a truce.”

After she finished walking around the stump, Dylan picked up her daypack and removed the jacket from it. She'd forgotten to put it on earlier, but it was pretty chilly. She removed her blood-stained scarf and started pulling on the olive-green jacket. Looking at the daypack reminded her of her other big concern. “Also, if we find a corpse, I want dibs on the food for obvious reasons until we have, like, an equal level of rations. But I'll hold off the nicknames, even keep a civil tongue if we run into Tori or another minority." Dylan zipped up the jacket. "Fair? If any of that is unreasonable to you, we can split up right now.”
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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Louisa waited for Dylan's response. To her surprise, Dylan was up for traveling with her, at least temporarily. Louisa gave a small grin when Dylan agreed. However, she had some rules if the two of them were going to travel, which Louisa made sure to take a mental note of.

1. We break up if we run into Maxim. 2. We are ultimately enemies in the end. 3. She gets any rations if we get the chance to loot a corpse. Okay, I can work with those, or at least understand her reasons behind that.

"I can work with those," Louisa said. "Although, I really hope we don't have to fight each other."

Louisa reached into her bag and pulled out the issued map.

"Alright, I guess we should get moving. I'm not sure where we should go. Any ideas?"

Louisa flashed the map to Dylan, hoping for some input.

Where does one go when the map doesn't lead to salvation?
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Louisa was fine with Dylan's rules. No haggling, no 'the power of friendship and poetry' speeches, nothing like that. She also hadn't seemed to realise that Dylan tagging along was only a liability for her. Dylan had no food, no weapon and no decent capabilities. She was basically cannon fodder.

But it wasn't like she could complain about Louisa's ignorance or denial about Dylan's general uselessness, so...

“Great!” Dylan smiled for a moment, and this time it didn't look totally constipated. Although the smile faded at the mention of fighting each other. “Eh, don't have to worry about that right now. Given the, y'know, bunch of other kids... I'm sure one of us will, er...”

Dylan trailed off. All this thinking about the likelihood of her death was starting to make the panic start bubbling, and making her shiver from something besides the cold. She forcibly crushed the lingering panic that threatened to bubble up at even the thought of someone dangerous appearing. She had to be strong. Or at least to look like she was. She could do that, she'd spent years pretending at school that nothing bothered her. Even if the situation here was more... intense. But she could pretend she was strong. If she pretended hard enough, she might even believe it herself.

Louisa was showing her the map, asking for her opinion on where they should go. Dylan peered at the map for a few moments.

“Hrrmm... well, I guess we're there...” She pointed at the clearing. “And I woke up over here.” She pointed at the stone circle, which was marked on the map. “I guess if you wanted to check if Maxim left anything behind, I'd check there. Nothing useful, just a buncha rocks.

“Beyond that... I mean, the shack or cabin would be good for holing up, but...” Dylan touched the collar at her neck, scowling, before picking up her scarf and putting it back on, covering up the collar. “Well, holing up ain't an infallible idea. Plus, that'd probably fuck up your whole 'go find and possibly get shot by Maxim' idea. But beyond that...” Dylan tilted her head a little, though she immediately winced and reached up instinctively to touch the bandages. “Jesus! Sorry. I think I'd want to go to the town and... uh, look for anything useful, y'know?”

The government had probably scanned the area and taken out any potential weapons, but it couldn't hurt to look.

“Anyway, think about it. I just need to grab a branch or something. Need a walking stick in case I get dizzy again and stuff.” Dylan wandered off to the nearby trees and started looking for any sturdy branches, though she stayed in sight of the clearing.
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Louisa listened as Dylan explained her thoughts on where they should go next. Dylan had a good point with the Town offering supplies and shelter. Louisa was slightly worried that other kids would try that. She figured that places like the Town would be good for herding kids together and letting the violent ones go nuts. She knew they should look for shelter, but those places seemed a little dangerous right now.

Dylan was looking for a stick she could use to keep her balance. Louisa used this time to look over the map again. She focused her attention on the Stone Circle Dylan said she met Maxim in.

Maxim. What are the odds he is still there? Probably slim. If he did shoot Dylan, he might have left the area and gone elsewhere. Still, I do want to find him.

Louisa made her way over to Dylan.

"I want to check out the Stone Circle. I need to see proof of what Maxim did. We might also be able to find some idea of where he went as well."

Louisa set her bag on the ground and began to search through it. She pulled the Beretta out of her cardigan pocket and set it down. She then pulled out the issued coat and put it on over her dress. She was starting to get a chill, and since it wasn't likely she'd find a pair of pants, she needed to star as warm as possible. She zipped the bag up and put it over her shoulder. She then took hold of the Beretta.

"If you don't want to go back to the Stone Circle, I understand. But I need to see what he did. I need to know that my friend would do something like this. Do you want to go?"
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[Clara Fox, continued from Stand Tall for the Beast of America.]

Clara left the log cabins behind her and tracked her way across the muddy ground. It was too risky to stay in the civilised areas for her to justify sticking around for longer than she had to. The cabins- such as they were- represented a last, fleeting echo of the society they had left behind. The others would be drawn to them, Clara knew, like moths to light. She was better off hidden, in the darkness, waiting it out until the end. So, she took off, trudged along dirt tracks until her orange canvas sneakers turned brown from the mud, and vanished into the darkness of the forest before anyone could find her.

She started following a trail, marked by a series of thick wooden poles jammed into the ground with colored acryllic arrows, marked with the names of the nature walks. The one she was following was called the Pine trail, and for good reason. Columns of tall, coniferous pines, junipers, and cedars stretched above her, their leaves blocking out the sun’s harsh winter glare. Clara stretched her arms upright, clasping her fingers together and pulling back until her shoulders clicked. As she moved further into the forest, she felt the cold fall chill of the air brush against her face. She breathed out slowly, her breath still too warm to condense in the air. Without weather forecasts, Clara figured that was how she was going to have to tell how cold it was. By whether her breath frosted up. She remembered calling that Dragon’s breath, when she was young.

There was a light at the end of her tunnel. As she followed the trail, the trees grew sparser, the paths less travelled, the air warmer. The trail stopped dead on the edge of the forest, overlooking a great clearing of tree stumps. Open ground was a risk, but her options were few and her bullets were plentiful, so she quickly retrieved her SAA revolver and held it tight in her right arm as she made her way out of the trees and into the open. Concealing her identity was an option, so that she could pass without attracting the attention of the less ‘accepting’ members of the student body. It wouldn’t have been difficult to pull her hood over her head, but the hit to her peripheral vision wouldn’t have been worth it. If she was going to die, she didn’t want it to be a surprise.

There was a girl, off by the clearing. Putting on a jacket, or a cardigan, it was hard to tell. Clara was around fifty feet away by the time she made her decision. Fuck playing it casual, she thought. She was here to ruin someone’s day. The government wanted an angry spic without the sensibilities to know right from wrong, so she’d give them one.

She could tell who the girl was as she approached. Louisa Bloom. They shared classes. That didn’t stop Clara from pointing a gun at her. She could see rustling in the trees from a distance. There was about twenty feet between them, maybe more. Clara wasn't a good shot, but she didn't need to be. She only needed to hit her once.

"Sorry," She said, her arm holding steady as she pulled back the hammer of her revolver with her thumb. "I'm about to make your day a whole lot worse."
TV2:
CS4 - Genevieve Cordova - ALIVE - Rondel Dagger - My lady avails herself of marked down freedom, forever cashed out to no more.
AE1 - Eden Zahn - DECEASED - Ballistic Riot Shield - It was for freedom. From myself and from the land.
Spoiler: click to toggle

This is literally that brain eating link thing. People are putting this in their sigs again. I guess 2002 is in this season? Click it if you want. Or don't. I'm not your boss.
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Dylan heard Louisa move in her direction, though she was having trouble seeing her from where she was standing. There weren't any good branches so close on the ground, so she was peering around just a tiny bit further away. She could grab one off one of the nearby trees, but anything that broke off easily enough wouldn't be worth it, and anything that didn't would take a lot of time to remove.

"Yeah, proof of what Maxim did? Try the fact that I'm fucking lopsided," Dylan muttered bitterly. "But there might be proof of where he went, sure." It'll help me if there is, I'll know where to avoid.

There. On the ground. A branch sturdy enough to occasionally lean on. Dylan bent down to pick it up. Yep, felt sturdy. Walking stick, hurrah, things were looking--

Shit.

Another voice. Another threatening voice. Might as well have been another goddamn Maxim, except that this one was female. Dylan couldn't see her from where she was standing. (Did that mean she was standing in a place where the new girl couldn't see her? Or was it just a terrible place to be standing?) But the tone. No-one would speak like that from so far away if they didn't have something to shoot with.

Dylan's first reaction was just to freeze. No, no, no, no, no, I don't want to get shot again, go away, go away, please go away! While the more rational part of her grumbled that she'd left her things behind. Again. Either way, there wasn't anything she could do to stop the situation.

Dylan did the one thing she could. She shoved the fresh wave of panic down again and prepared to bolt at a moment's notice. Maybe she wouldn't have to. Louisa had a gun. Oh, who was Dylan kidding, Louisa didn't have the guts to shoot or she would have shot Dylan.

Careful, that's the same thing you said to Maxim.

Still, Louisa didn't seem like the type... Dylan thought, just for a moment, about asking to borrow the gun. Then she realised she didn't have a clue on how to use it.

"Hope you got the guts, Minstrel," Dylan muttered, so quietly that even Louisa might not have heard her, let alone the new arrival.

She was ready to run, and really wanted to because Louisa was definitely on the verge of getting shot if the other girl was smart, but she stayed still. If she made a sudden movement, the other girl would see her for sure and probably shoot. Plus... if one shot the other, maybe Dylan could snatch up the spare gun.

She clung tightly to the branch she was holding, like it would deflect bullets.
Program V2

F04 - Dylan Walker - Weapon: Formerly a case of Stars and Stripes Cola (currently a rock and a Ruger Blackhawk) - DECEASED - "I can't make you proud. I just don't have it in me."
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

M05 - Marley Jenkins - Weapon: A red, white and blue dildo - DECEASED - “But this ain't a fucking war. It's just bullshit.”
Sandbox: 1 - Program V2: 1 2 3
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Louisa watched as Dylan picked a stick off the ground. At least the stick meant Louisa wouldn't have to help Dylan walk. They were probably going to do a lot of walking over the next few days, so anything to take the weight off the feet would be great.

"Alright, well we better get moving," Louisa said as Dylan was ready.

Sorry, I'm about to make your day a whole lot worse.

Louisa turned around and saw a figure across the clearing. Clara Fox. Louisa knew she had a few classes with her, and she knew Clara was into cycling as well. But things were different now. Clara was pointing a gun at Louisa and Dylan. She was aiming to kill them.

Hope you got the guts, Minstrel.

Louisa gulped. Dylan was back to name calling. Things were about to go out of control.

Sorry Maxim, looks like we might never find you.

"Dylan," Louisa quietly said to the girl behind her, "Get out of here as fast as you can. I'll try to talk Clara down."

Louisa's grip on the gun in her hand tightened. She was afraid to raise it. Clara might assume she would attack. She still didn't know what Clara was planning to do, so Louisa knew she might have to use it.

I don't want to kill her. Even if it's self defense, it's still murder. I'd be pardoned by the government, but I'll still have her blood on her hands. Please, don't let me kill her. I can't really kill Clara this time.

Louisa began to shake. She had never been more frightened in her life.

Please, just leave. Clara......
Edited by Laurels, Nov 14 2012, 02:06 AM.
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There was a harsh chill to the alpine air. Snow’s coming, Clara thought, as a cold wind brushed against her cheeks and sent a chill down her spine. Not soon, though. A bittersweet realisation, half relief that she would not have to fight in the snow, half melanchoic realisation that she would never get to see the snow again. It was colder in the clearing, now that she had stopped moving, than it was in the forest. She was still sweating though, on her forehead, under her armpits and breasts, on the palms of her hands. She could feel beads of sweat under the fringe of her air, on the palms of her hands. Her gun- Clara was quick to take possession of things- rubbed against her hand as her aim wandered slightly, the varnished wooden handle almost slipping away.

She kept control of it, keeping it trained at Louisa’s body as the other girl motioned for her friend to leave. There were two of them then, thought Clara wagered that the other girl had already left. There was no reason, Clara decided, to go after her. It did not matter to her if people ran away, because all that meant was that she had to expend less effort. No heroics, She thought, as if it were ever possible for her. Louisa had a gun of her own at her side, dangling limply from one of her arms. At a distance, Clara guessed it was a service pistol. Beretta M9, she remembered. She had seen soldiers holding them in commercials, though they never named the guns. They were strict about that. Her father knew them, though. He had pointed their names out, whenever they showed up. Her mother used to tease him, jokingly telling him to stop being a nerd about it.

Clara wanted to go home.

She wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible. Amongst the tree stumps- they would provide minimal cover in a firefight- she felt exposed. Clara became more aware of her own mortality, now that there was a very real chance she would be shot in the back. Outside of her ‘ruin someone’s day’ mantra, she had very little idea what she was doing here. On a spur of the moment decision, she finally replied to Louisa.

"Put your gun down," She demanded. "Your bag too. Then, turn around and start running."

She paused for a moment.

"I ain't here to fuck around," She added. "Try anything and you'll be in the dirt."
TV2:
CS4 - Genevieve Cordova - ALIVE - Rondel Dagger - My lady avails herself of marked down freedom, forever cashed out to no more.
AE1 - Eden Zahn - DECEASED - Ballistic Riot Shield - It was for freedom. From myself and from the land.
Spoiler: click to toggle

This is literally that brain eating link thing. People are putting this in their sigs again. I guess 2002 is in this season? Click it if you want. Or don't. I'm not your boss.
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