[IC] Cleansed: Peace Keepers

[Wired]

Booker barely controlled his need to chuckle when he felt what could only be the muzzle of a revolver press into his stomach. The man made a very good case and Booker really didn't want his parents hearing about how he went out due to a gut shot fired by the very people he had left to join. That would be a sad day indeed. Mentally admitting the draw Booker removed his finger from the trigger, clicked the safety on and got to his feet, quickly following the stranger in holstering his weapon, albeit in a lot less flashier way.

"You think we got business cards or somethin'?" The man dusted off his pants with both hands. "You don't become a Peacer. You just are one. You wake up one day and pick up a gun and that's it. What you do with it makes you one of us. There ain't exactly an official rulebook. But the password for the shitter is "Nancy", FYI."

“Great, thanks! After having a revolver to my gut I think I might need a shit... So what, I go out and live my life as per usual only this time I call myself a Peacer? Seems a bit loose to me mate, but you'd know, right? Ah, fuck it, I guess I'll return to the interview room and get told... Whatever the fuck it is you get told in an open ended organisations interview. A pleasure Long John who sailed the seven asshole seas.”

With that Booker let out a massive sigh, rubbed the sweat from his brow and turned to walk away, all the while thinking what a fucking afternoon it had been.

[Marx]

Grasping hands shot up as the woman ascended, fingers clutching tight at her ankles which evaded their grasp by mere moments. As she brought her self up, Elliot looked her up and down, before looking towards her with a small smile. "Well, you look clean enough, at least clean enough that I don't see any chomps taken outta ya." He grinned, hoisting his backpack up to his shoulder from its resting place on the ground. Elliot wasted no time, moving toward the standing staircase, cautiously putting a foot down on the first step which slowly bent down, the concrete breaking apart. "Watch your step and follow the marks," Elliot ordered the girl, giving a point to the chalk marks on the wall, adjacent to steps that were faulty. Stepping on a faulty step was a good way to drop back down into the arms of the friendly guests who wanted nothing more than to be pulled up.

Elliot moved up the stairs quickly, navigating the most stable points and arriving at the seventh floor in moments. He slid into the room that some supplies were stowed away in. Elliot's feet practically glided along the floor as he shot towards the opened closet, pulling out a cardboard box which he immediately began rummaging through. He removed several 5.56x45mm round that he rolled between the fingers of his free hand while he grabbed two bottles of water with his free hand. When his guest would make her way in, he'd toss her the bottle, but until then he'd enjoy his lukewarm, but fresh, water.