kapuchuAda Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows
“I’m not going to drop my gun and I sure as hell know you’re not gonna fire yours.”
The two had vastly different voices, but they spoke with the same tone. He had done this before, he'd be reasonable, but he wouldn't be bullied-- and he was smart enough to know that her raising her gun was really just a precaution, a way to safely initiate an unavoidable encounter. He was experience, but no malicious, he didn't point his gun at her as he approached, this put Ada at ease.
"That's fair..." She didn't bat an eye, keeping her gun level at his center as he approached. Her marksmanship was amateurish at best, still, she knew enough to know to aim for the center of mass... for the living, at least. As he approached she took note of his form, he was rugged, he didn't appear to be someone who had simply been hiding in some building for the past few weeks, he appeared middle-aged, perhaps prematurely aged by some stress, before and after the end. He was stronger than her, physically, especially in her current state, but the way in which he walked told her she still had speed over him.
“If you kill me then you might wake the locals and then you’ll be truly fucked.”
She didn't respond. Merely continuing to observe behind the pointed handgun as he inched closer to her, she took note of what he wore, what he had on him... what he said. Taking particular interest in his inflection on the word 'locals.' He was unfamiliar with the town too, he didn't have some group, and while perhaps a bit proud, his body language didn't suggest aggression.
They stood in silence, only a few feet away from each other, appraising the other. He broke the silence with a question. “How old are you?”
The question caught Ada off guard. She tried to think seriously for a second before cracking something of a smile, it was something about the confusion in his voice that got her. "Umm... I actually don't know? 23 or 24? Been a while since I thought of that." The smile became a half chuckle, she took one hand from the gun to cover her mouth and stifle the laughter, taking a second before looking back at the man, "What about you?" She lowered the gun, a smirk still on her face, "Little old to be doing the whole wandering nomad thing, ain't cha?"
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Madama Witch
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7 yrs ago
WHO DAT BOY, 911
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8 yrs ago
Stop and frisk me, daddy. Unf.
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9 yrs ago
Organize a strike in your school or workplace on the grounds that it does not satisfy your need for indolence & spiritual beauty.
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I'd like more.
Halvtand said Why are dwarves so unpopular among fantasy-players? What is the major problem/s?
Because Dwarves are just manlets who mine, drink, generally have Napoleon complexes when it comes other races, and can't do magic for shit.
Why would you? It's not a fun challenge like with Halflings or Gnomes, it's just unpleasant.
Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows
Ada couldn't help but smile. She was tired, her grip was shaky, her legs were one jog from giving out on her, the sweat was pouring off of her and her hair was sticking to her face. None of that mattered, though, for the moment, all that mattered was that after a half an hour of rummaging through that gas station, what felt like an eternity, she managed to find some batteries for her walkman. She'd have another few days without going crazy, and for the moment, that gave her cause to smile.
Only a moment, though.
Ada found herself leaning against the shelf, sighing. She was exhausted. This place was as good as any to rest a couple hours, looters were rare in the still of night and this place had been gone over several times already, she was willing to gamble. With a grunt, Ada got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The exposure to the outside from the window she had kicked in made her nervous, she made her way over to the backroom and forced the door open.
Sick
Of course there were sick here. She'd been quiet enough getting in here, they hadn't noticed her and hadn't made a fuss, and they still didn't. Her gore covered jacket continued to do it's trick-- however it did it's trick-- the three turned to 'look' or whatever it was the sick did when they were close to another one of their own, whatever it was, they stood, but didn't attack. Two men and a boy, that's what they'd been, the one of the men and the boy looked freshly turned. Ada's guess was that they had had a similar idea to her own in regards to this place-- a sanctuary for the night-- and one of the sickos got it and killed them both while they slept. Ada stood, holding her breath, tensing her legs for a kick, just in case. Always just in case. They never attacked you if you smelled like them.
Ada had figured this out early on after the fall of the government. Her time on The Reservation allowed her to experiment with them, find out what worked in regards to them. Initially, she had deluded herself that she was looking for some kind of cure, she wasn't a Doctor, or a nurse, or a med-student... She had taken a few courses in high school and college and looked some things up on the internet! But she tried, for a while, out of some hope, a hope she still hadn't completely let go of. Ada had thought it was some kind of leprosy-- that maybe...
Ada shook herself out of her thoughts. The sickos had begun to ignore her, going back to standing around in the back room. She stepped in slowly, relying on her weary eyes to pick up on any outline of something useful. Immediately she noted one of the sick had a knife, certainly tempting, but not worth the trouble that'd follow-- she also spotted two guns, a rifle and a handgun, just laying on the ground for the taking. Ada wasn't a gun person, she barely knew how to handle the things, but she had also been through enough towns to know that she'd need one. Towns attracted crowds of sick and living, Bandera wouldn't be any different. She reached slowly for the handgun, thanking the boy and the man under her breath-- they had helped her, they deserved her thanks.
She closed the door gently behind her as she left the back room, opting to leave the rifle for the next lucky scavenger. Ada, back against the door, checked the gun for ammo, before looking up and seeing...
Fuck.
Red light. Fire. The light of a torch was approaching her, a single silhouette illuminated, growing nearer by the second, Ada froze, a deer in the headlights.
Think.
Right. Ada moved from the back door to the front of the gas station, staying in the shadows. She raised her gun as she neared the window.
"That's close enough." Ada didn't yell, she tried her hardest to give her voice an even tone, she could see the older man, and she was sure he could see her now. He had a rifle, more powerful, but he was still at the disadvantage, she had a gun pointed at him. "Drop any weapons you have-- slowly. Raise both your hands, and step closer to me." She maintained contact with the hard brown eyes the gruff looking man, in the dim firelight, her eyes held an empty glare, but the demeanor in her voice changed with her last question, "Hi? W-what is it you want here?"
Ada couldn't help but smile. She was tired, her grip was shaky, her legs were one jog from giving out on her, the sweat was pouring off of her and her hair was sticking to her face. None of that mattered, though, for the moment, all that mattered was that after a half an hour of rummaging through that gas station, what felt like an eternity, she managed to find some batteries for her walkman. She'd have another few days without going crazy, and for the moment, that gave her cause to smile.
Only a moment, though.
Ada found herself leaning against the shelf, sighing. She was exhausted. This place was as good as any to rest a couple hours, looters were rare in the still of night and this place had been gone over several times already, she was willing to gamble. With a grunt, Ada got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The exposure to the outside from the window she had kicked in made her nervous, she made her way over to the backroom and forced the door open.
Sick
Of course there were sick here. She'd been quiet enough getting in here, they hadn't noticed her and hadn't made a fuss, and they still didn't. Her gore covered jacket continued to do it's trick-- however it did it's trick-- the three turned to 'look' or whatever it was the sick did when they were close to another one of their own, whatever it was, they stood, but didn't attack. Two men and a boy, that's what they'd been, the one of the men and the boy looked freshly turned. Ada's guess was that they had had a similar idea to her own in regards to this place-- a sanctuary for the night-- and one of the sickos got it and killed them both while they slept. Ada stood, holding her breath, tensing her legs for a kick, just in case. Always just in case. They never attacked you if you smelled like them.
Ada had figured this out early on after the fall of the government. Her time on The Reservation allowed her to experiment with them, find out what worked in regards to them. Initially, she had deluded herself that she was looking for some kind of cure, she wasn't a Doctor, or a nurse, or a med-student... She had taken a few courses in high school and college and looked some things up on the internet! But she tried, for a while, out of some hope, a hope she still hadn't completely let go of. Ada had thought it was some kind of leprosy-- that maybe...
Ada shook herself out of her thoughts. The sickos had begun to ignore her, going back to standing around in the back room. She stepped in slowly, relying on her weary eyes to pick up on any outline of something useful. Immediately she noted one of the sick had a knife, certainly tempting, but not worth the trouble that'd follow-- she also spotted two guns, a rifle and a handgun, just laying on the ground for the taking. Ada wasn't a gun person, she barely knew how to handle the things, but she had also been through enough towns to know that she'd need one. Towns attracted crowds of sick and living, Bandera wouldn't be any different. She reached slowly for the handgun, thanking the boy and the man under her breath-- they had helped her, they deserved her thanks.
She closed the door gently behind her as she left the back room, opting to leave the rifle for the next lucky scavenger. Ada, back against the door, checked the gun for ammo, before looking up and seeing...
Fuck.
Red light. Fire. The light of a torch was approaching her, a single silhouette illuminated, growing nearer by the second, Ada froze, a deer in the headlights.
Think.
Right. Ada moved from the back door to the front of the gas station, staying in the shadows. She raised her gun as she neared the window.
"That's close enough." Ada didn't yell, she tried her hardest to give her voice an even tone, she could see the older man, and she was sure he could see her now. He had a rifle, more powerful, but he was still at the disadvantage, she had a gun pointed at him. "Drop any weapons you have-- slowly. Raise both your hands, and step closer to me." She maintained contact with the hard brown eyes the gruff looking man, in the dim firelight, her eyes held an empty glare, but the demeanor in her voice changed with her last question, "Hi? W-what is it you want here?"
Ayyyyy Rinnee, just saw your characters.
I see what you did there brah.
EDIT: Also, used Obito's characters in my post, if you wanted to do something else with them I can totally change it around
I see what you did there brah.
EDIT: Also, used Obito's characters in my post, if you wanted to do something else with them I can totally change it around
Name: Delphi Aledove
Sex: Female
Age: 26
Role: Day Master
Personality: Delphi is shrewd and sneaky, with the one thing she truly believes in being the power of gold. All problems and conflicts can be solved through gold, either directly or indirectly, and if a person can't be bought, they can certainly be rented. And in the eyes of Delphi, it doesn't matter how you came across the gold, be it through a hard days of work or quick mugging, you owe it toy yourself to use that gold as a tool to further yourself in society.
Delphi fit right in as Day Master of the rouges guild, striking the right deals out of the watchful eye of the Magnificent One-- striking the right deals under His watchful eye, buying and selling outside of the law, bribes, funneling gold, smuggling, the management of brothels, and knowing when to hire the right muscle for when things get tight-- it all came naturally to Delphi.
She is the type of person who genuinely sees most human life as beneath the money they can earn her, and all of her actions reflect this. Delphi is calculating, but to a fault, and revels in the excess and and power that the path she has taken in life has led her to. She is a borderline narcissist and megalomaniac and doesn't have an altruistic bone in her body. She has come to respect gold, trade and the earning of finances as some sort of god, and this avarice gives her a certain aura. She's cocky, and occasionally reckless with her power, but she isn't stupid.
History: [WIP]
Weapon of choice: Javelin Spear
Gohan said Then it isn't a whodunnit, it becomes "which crazy person among us do you think is most likely to have done it". And that's no fun, regardless of whether or not it's a crossover.
Except if everyone's crazy and just as likely to have committed the murder it is a whodunnit?
Che's face lit up at the questions, happy to be talking to anyone other than his brother about literally anything else.
"Right! Dana, right? That's actually a very good question. So, Mary's probably going to give you a bunch of jargon about personal space and generally treat you all like you're half your age, but It'll more or less amount to you all getting the choice yourselves. I mean, all of your stuff has been moved to individual rooms and those will be your own for the year, but, as you all hopefully know, the Academy was converted from an old luxury hotel, so the rooms are kind of large, and staying the night in someone else's room is allowed." Che pauses his monologue to lean in, a more serious look in his eyes, "Look. You're all adults, we know that, you know that. I know you'll all have a trip or two to the bars, that's fine, be responsible, but please..." He seems at a loss for words for a moment, "...look, just...j-just remember that we DO have clinic, and they're obliged to give you contraceptives, no questions asked--"
James, who was trying to hide his laughter finds he can no longer contain it, and busts out in a loud guffaw. Che turns back to him with an embarrassed anger in his eyes, "SHUT UP!"
"Why? Look at these nacos, bro. I say maaaaaaybe..." He points to Max with a drunken finger, "This one gets laid. I bet my left ass check the rest of them probably don't even get buzzed. They'll probably spend most of their time solving the mysteries of the island or some shit."
Che tilted his head, anger leaving his face being replaced by confusion, "What?"
"You know, real Scooby Doo stuff-- Stop talking to me, hermano, Jesus, what kind of counselor are you?"
Che was annoyed, but James was right, he returned his attention to the other questions, "You guys got it, we're pretty small, but I'll be damned if there isn't plenty to do. Touristy or not, you could probably spend a year just trying to go to every arcade, store, and beach. And there are pretty much always some local festivals or something going on, I think the businesses get tax breaks or something for having them... and, uh, there's certainly no shortage of... "interesting" people here." Looking up, he could see the green and fog of Puerto Libre approaching. "So, when we get there, just follow me, the Academy is pretty much right next to, so we'll get you there, Mary will yell at you in french for an hour, we'll get you checked in with the concierge, and then, you'll have the next few days to yourselves to get settled in. Any last minute questions?"
"Right! Dana, right? That's actually a very good question. So, Mary's probably going to give you a bunch of jargon about personal space and generally treat you all like you're half your age, but It'll more or less amount to you all getting the choice yourselves. I mean, all of your stuff has been moved to individual rooms and those will be your own for the year, but, as you all hopefully know, the Academy was converted from an old luxury hotel, so the rooms are kind of large, and staying the night in someone else's room is allowed." Che pauses his monologue to lean in, a more serious look in his eyes, "Look. You're all adults, we know that, you know that. I know you'll all have a trip or two to the bars, that's fine, be responsible, but please..." He seems at a loss for words for a moment, "...look, just...j-just remember that we DO have clinic, and they're obliged to give you contraceptives, no questions asked--"
James, who was trying to hide his laughter finds he can no longer contain it, and busts out in a loud guffaw. Che turns back to him with an embarrassed anger in his eyes, "SHUT UP!"
"Why? Look at these nacos, bro. I say maaaaaaybe..." He points to Max with a drunken finger, "This one gets laid. I bet my left ass check the rest of them probably don't even get buzzed. They'll probably spend most of their time solving the mysteries of the island or some shit."
Che tilted his head, anger leaving his face being replaced by confusion, "What?"
"You know, real Scooby Doo stuff-- Stop talking to me, hermano, Jesus, what kind of counselor are you?"
Che was annoyed, but James was right, he returned his attention to the other questions, "You guys got it, we're pretty small, but I'll be damned if there isn't plenty to do. Touristy or not, you could probably spend a year just trying to go to every arcade, store, and beach. And there are pretty much always some local festivals or something going on, I think the businesses get tax breaks or something for having them... and, uh, there's certainly no shortage of... "interesting" people here." Looking up, he could see the green and fog of Puerto Libre approaching. "So, when we get there, just follow me, the Academy is pretty much right next to, so we'll get you there, Mary will yell at you in french for an hour, we'll get you checked in with the concierge, and then, you'll have the next few days to yourselves to get settled in. Any last minute questions?"
Cool beans.
Ada Cinet - Kindla Spring/Ranch Road
(1 day ago)
Sick.
That was all Ada could think, it was all she allowed herself to think as she squatted over the body, disfigured from months of decay in the hot Texan sun. With a grimace, she pulled the knife out of the thing's skull, scowling at the sick sound it made. The squelch interrupted the serene silence of the night air. Ada didn't move, movement was noise, noise was bad, it a took a while, but after six months she had learned that. She defensively raised the knife, and let her eyes dart around, looking for anything in the distance, like a deer feeling for the slightest disturbance of something that might kill it. The woman wasn't particularly worried about the sick, even on an empty stomach she moved faster than they did and the flat, generally unobstructed horizon made it easy to see them coming and avoid a potential confrontation all together.
The sickos were easy-- what Ada was looking for was the living.
Her scan of the area ended in an internal sigh of relief, though, she felt safe enough to continue with what could only be described as necessary desecration, she clutched the knife tighter, moving it into position. With her free hand, she felt the jacket that laid spreadeagled in the grass beside her again, the dried and caked blood having become chipped and cracked after days in the hot southwestern sun. She knew it needed a fresh coat of blood... she also knew how crazy it was that she lived at a point in time where she needed to eviscerate a human... someone who was once a human.. and cover her clothes in their guts just to stay alive! Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for a moment, before raising the knife over her head and bringing it down on the stomach. She started to move it around, the effort got a grunt out of her, she hadn't eaten well for days. Still, she finished the job, reaching into the bloody hole she had created with apprehension, she knew not to retch, but she still couldn't get rid of the initial disgust. She covered the cloth jacket in human entrails. The scent kept the sick away.
A stifled yawn and a growl from her own stomach reminded Ada of her own fatigue, she was running on the fumes of dry ramen, stale coffee, and water. She'd need to sleep soon, and eat something with even a little nutrition, days of walking had not been good for her. The weight she was losing was almost certainly muscle, she couldn't feel anymore fat on her body, and the darkness under her eyes definitely gave away her deprivation of sleep. With a swift motion, she put the jacket on, now drenched in sicko repellant, and moved over to her bag on the other side of the body to clean her hands. A moment later, she stood, tossing away the bloodied towel and knife, and began to walk again, her muscles tensed up, but she kept on, her tall slim figure was the only thing moving on that road in the still night air. As dawn came, she took out her mp3 and put in an earbud, walking in perfect rhythm with the music.
Ada Cinet - Skyline Ranch RV Park
(9 hours ago)
Ada's eyes opened slowly, absorbing the light that came in from the dirty, windows and their broken blinds. It took her a second to remember where she was, that she was sleeping in an RV, in an RV park that had only been lightly scavenged at worst. A few hours after dawn she had found this place, and she was still thanking her lucky stars she had. 10 hours of sleep wasn't much, but it was probably more than all the sleep she had gotten in the last 3 weeks combined, Texas was being a damn lot kinder to her than Mexico, and as she yawned, laying on the RV couch, she thanked her lucky stars she had found this place. She knew she needed to keep moving, she wanted to-- but for now, she wanted to wring every second of relaxation she could out of this place.
Slowly adjusting to being away after her first real night's sleep in a while, she stared at the ceiling and just... thought. Her mind wandered, she thought of her brother, her mother, she thought of Louisiana and Vegas, she thought of how this really much different than her life before the sickness spread, or her mother's, for that matter, would she be proud of her?
Today marked 3 weeks on the road for Ada, and her mind thought of her journey, most of that time was spent in Mexico, avoiding people, the cartels had all but taken control. She shuddered thinking of the things she had seen, her mind went farther back, to where she had spent over 5 months, the brunt of the apocalypse, a cakewalk compared to this.
The Reservation. It was a good little thing Ada stumbled upon the first few days of the hysteria brought on by the sickness. Of course, back then no one called it that, it was still the "Shiprock, New Mexico, Navajo Indian Reservation"-- Legislation in regards to the Native American reservations was always iffy, that mean less representation America's first citizens, but in the event of a catastrophic disaster, like with the sickness, they were able to close off things quick. Ada was lucky to have been in Shiprock when she was-- the sick were contained within days and the borders were closed off almost immediately after word from DC died. Within weeks jobs were assigned, a barter system was established, and aside from doctors, guards, and people who went on scavenging, no one even had to deal with the sick. Ada smiled thinking of it. The security of The Reservation had made her complacent. She was heading to Louisiana to find her family-- her little brother, her mom-- but the ease of life there, it actually made things better for her than before the end of... everything, of American life.
Toward the end, it wasn't the sick that killed The Reservation, it was human error. Needless bureaucracy, micro-managing, and just plain greedy, power hungry people.
The Reservation was dead, but it taught her several important things about the new world. Ada, now wide awake, swung her legs to the ground and sat up, they weren't burning like before, they were sore, certainly, but they could move. That was the first thing The Reservation had taught her, she needed to keep moving, that's what made her such a good scout and looter, she kept moving. Her stomach growled, as she stood, she moved over to the kitchen area of the RV, it hadn't been looted yet, not by anyone who knew what they were doing, at least, and after opening a few cabinets, she was rewarded with what she wanted-- cans-- peaches, beans and even sardines. Jackpot. This was another thing The Reservation taught her, she tore open drawer after drawer, looking for a can opener, or at least a knife, The Reservation taught her to keep things simple-- no bureaucracy, no step-by-step plans, no other people. No complications. You move from place to place, you sleep, you walk, you eat.
Cover yourself in guts and avoid everyone. Simple.
A short few months ago, Ada had considered herself a vegetarian. That Ada, the vegetarian Ada, would have been horrified to see the way the Ada that had been shaped by this new world tore into the can of uncooked pork & beans, throwing in raw sardines. Current Ada couldn't have cared less.
Half an hour later, she slurped down the last of the peach syrup she could stomach and fell back down on the RV couch and lost another hour to a nap. She was woken up by the sound of groans. Ada let out a groan under her breath herself at the unwelcome intrusion. She'd need to leave before there were more. After a quick trip to the RV bathroom for hygiene, she tucked her mangy hair under her hat and got ready to set out, quickly looking through the RV for potential weapons, more food, anything useful-- she put it in her bag. Scratching on the door was her cue to head out.
Gingerly putting on the still damp coat, she slung the back pack over over shoulder and moved to open the door of the RV. Ada held her breath, and let the door slowly creak open. She didn't like killing them if she didn't have to, it was a loud ordeal, and too messy, she preferred letting them be and simply sneaking past. The woman on the other side of the door was heavyset, she looked like she may have been the fat mother of a large Texan family. Her neck was snapped, her head hung at a slight angle, and the hair on her head had all but fallen out-- a former RV owner? Her torso was riddled with bullet holes, Ada couldn't tell if they were fresh or not as she silently stared at the dead sicko, her heart beat faster and she continued to hold her breath, she tried her hardest to maintain contact with its dead, rotting eyes.
Ada made the first move, shuffling slightly around the woman. The woman moved in kind, stepping into the RV where Ada had just been. Within moments, Ada was on Highway 16 again, and she remembered the may be the most important lesson she learned from The Reservation.
Don't grow complacent.
Not ever.
Ada Cinet - Gas Go markets gas station
(Present)
Looking up at the night sky as she walked, Ada couldn't help but note the beauty of the night sky in it's full glory. Without the disruption of city lights, the stars of the Milky Way could shine through Earth's atmosphere much more clearly. She strolled down the street, each step as silent as she could make them, and she listened to her music. Highway 16 had led her to Bandera, and she much preferred the night sky than the reality of the empty, dark streets around her. She hadn't encountered many people in Texas, she wanted to keep it that way and towns like this ran the risk of ruining that. She came to a stop in the middle of an empty intersection. Another empty intersection, in a country-- maybe world-- full of empty intersections. The desolation hung in the air, behind her, there stood an old Sonic drive in, in front, a gas station that appeared to have lost a battle with a tornado. Her mp3 player stopped. Fishing the device out of her pocket, the blinking 'empty battery' logo was all she needed to help make the decision.
Gas station it is, then.
Wordlessly, silently, she moved to the boarded windows of the abandoned Shell station. She didn't have a flashlight, so she had to rely on sound to tell her the weakest board, she knocked, quietly, looking for signs of anything, hollowness, termites, rain damage, anything. The board next to the entrance struck her as the weakest, and she reared back, delivering a single, loud kick. The board fell with ease, most of it having already been rotted away. She ran in, trying to silently tip toe around the board and the various litter on the floor of the Gas station mart. Quickly rummaging around, she began her search for AAA batteries.
(1 day ago)
Sick.
That was all Ada could think, it was all she allowed herself to think as she squatted over the body, disfigured from months of decay in the hot Texan sun. With a grimace, she pulled the knife out of the thing's skull, scowling at the sick sound it made. The squelch interrupted the serene silence of the night air. Ada didn't move, movement was noise, noise was bad, it a took a while, but after six months she had learned that. She defensively raised the knife, and let her eyes dart around, looking for anything in the distance, like a deer feeling for the slightest disturbance of something that might kill it. The woman wasn't particularly worried about the sick, even on an empty stomach she moved faster than they did and the flat, generally unobstructed horizon made it easy to see them coming and avoid a potential confrontation all together.
The sickos were easy-- what Ada was looking for was the living.
Her scan of the area ended in an internal sigh of relief, though, she felt safe enough to continue with what could only be described as necessary desecration, she clutched the knife tighter, moving it into position. With her free hand, she felt the jacket that laid spreadeagled in the grass beside her again, the dried and caked blood having become chipped and cracked after days in the hot southwestern sun. She knew it needed a fresh coat of blood... she also knew how crazy it was that she lived at a point in time where she needed to eviscerate a human... someone who was once a human.. and cover her clothes in their guts just to stay alive! Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for a moment, before raising the knife over her head and bringing it down on the stomach. She started to move it around, the effort got a grunt out of her, she hadn't eaten well for days. Still, she finished the job, reaching into the bloody hole she had created with apprehension, she knew not to retch, but she still couldn't get rid of the initial disgust. She covered the cloth jacket in human entrails. The scent kept the sick away.
A stifled yawn and a growl from her own stomach reminded Ada of her own fatigue, she was running on the fumes of dry ramen, stale coffee, and water. She'd need to sleep soon, and eat something with even a little nutrition, days of walking had not been good for her. The weight she was losing was almost certainly muscle, she couldn't feel anymore fat on her body, and the darkness under her eyes definitely gave away her deprivation of sleep. With a swift motion, she put the jacket on, now drenched in sicko repellant, and moved over to her bag on the other side of the body to clean her hands. A moment later, she stood, tossing away the bloodied towel and knife, and began to walk again, her muscles tensed up, but she kept on, her tall slim figure was the only thing moving on that road in the still night air. As dawn came, she took out her mp3 and put in an earbud, walking in perfect rhythm with the music.
Ada Cinet - Skyline Ranch RV Park
(9 hours ago)
Ada's eyes opened slowly, absorbing the light that came in from the dirty, windows and their broken blinds. It took her a second to remember where she was, that she was sleeping in an RV, in an RV park that had only been lightly scavenged at worst. A few hours after dawn she had found this place, and she was still thanking her lucky stars she had. 10 hours of sleep wasn't much, but it was probably more than all the sleep she had gotten in the last 3 weeks combined, Texas was being a damn lot kinder to her than Mexico, and as she yawned, laying on the RV couch, she thanked her lucky stars she had found this place. She knew she needed to keep moving, she wanted to-- but for now, she wanted to wring every second of relaxation she could out of this place.
Slowly adjusting to being away after her first real night's sleep in a while, she stared at the ceiling and just... thought. Her mind wandered, she thought of her brother, her mother, she thought of Louisiana and Vegas, she thought of how this really much different than her life before the sickness spread, or her mother's, for that matter, would she be proud of her?
Today marked 3 weeks on the road for Ada, and her mind thought of her journey, most of that time was spent in Mexico, avoiding people, the cartels had all but taken control. She shuddered thinking of the things she had seen, her mind went farther back, to where she had spent over 5 months, the brunt of the apocalypse, a cakewalk compared to this.
The Reservation. It was a good little thing Ada stumbled upon the first few days of the hysteria brought on by the sickness. Of course, back then no one called it that, it was still the "Shiprock, New Mexico, Navajo Indian Reservation"-- Legislation in regards to the Native American reservations was always iffy, that mean less representation America's first citizens, but in the event of a catastrophic disaster, like with the sickness, they were able to close off things quick. Ada was lucky to have been in Shiprock when she was-- the sick were contained within days and the borders were closed off almost immediately after word from DC died. Within weeks jobs were assigned, a barter system was established, and aside from doctors, guards, and people who went on scavenging, no one even had to deal with the sick. Ada smiled thinking of it. The security of The Reservation had made her complacent. She was heading to Louisiana to find her family-- her little brother, her mom-- but the ease of life there, it actually made things better for her than before the end of... everything, of American life.
Toward the end, it wasn't the sick that killed The Reservation, it was human error. Needless bureaucracy, micro-managing, and just plain greedy, power hungry people.
The Reservation was dead, but it taught her several important things about the new world. Ada, now wide awake, swung her legs to the ground and sat up, they weren't burning like before, they were sore, certainly, but they could move. That was the first thing The Reservation had taught her, she needed to keep moving, that's what made her such a good scout and looter, she kept moving. Her stomach growled, as she stood, she moved over to the kitchen area of the RV, it hadn't been looted yet, not by anyone who knew what they were doing, at least, and after opening a few cabinets, she was rewarded with what she wanted-- cans-- peaches, beans and even sardines. Jackpot. This was another thing The Reservation taught her, she tore open drawer after drawer, looking for a can opener, or at least a knife, The Reservation taught her to keep things simple-- no bureaucracy, no step-by-step plans, no other people. No complications. You move from place to place, you sleep, you walk, you eat.
Cover yourself in guts and avoid everyone. Simple.
A short few months ago, Ada had considered herself a vegetarian. That Ada, the vegetarian Ada, would have been horrified to see the way the Ada that had been shaped by this new world tore into the can of uncooked pork & beans, throwing in raw sardines. Current Ada couldn't have cared less.
Half an hour later, she slurped down the last of the peach syrup she could stomach and fell back down on the RV couch and lost another hour to a nap. She was woken up by the sound of groans. Ada let out a groan under her breath herself at the unwelcome intrusion. She'd need to leave before there were more. After a quick trip to the RV bathroom for hygiene, she tucked her mangy hair under her hat and got ready to set out, quickly looking through the RV for potential weapons, more food, anything useful-- she put it in her bag. Scratching on the door was her cue to head out.
Gingerly putting on the still damp coat, she slung the back pack over over shoulder and moved to open the door of the RV. Ada held her breath, and let the door slowly creak open. She didn't like killing them if she didn't have to, it was a loud ordeal, and too messy, she preferred letting them be and simply sneaking past. The woman on the other side of the door was heavyset, she looked like she may have been the fat mother of a large Texan family. Her neck was snapped, her head hung at a slight angle, and the hair on her head had all but fallen out-- a former RV owner? Her torso was riddled with bullet holes, Ada couldn't tell if they were fresh or not as she silently stared at the dead sicko, her heart beat faster and she continued to hold her breath, she tried her hardest to maintain contact with its dead, rotting eyes.
Ada made the first move, shuffling slightly around the woman. The woman moved in kind, stepping into the RV where Ada had just been. Within moments, Ada was on Highway 16 again, and she remembered the may be the most important lesson she learned from The Reservation.
Don't grow complacent.
Not ever.
Ada Cinet - Gas Go markets gas station
(Present)
Looking up at the night sky as she walked, Ada couldn't help but note the beauty of the night sky in it's full glory. Without the disruption of city lights, the stars of the Milky Way could shine through Earth's atmosphere much more clearly. She strolled down the street, each step as silent as she could make them, and she listened to her music. Highway 16 had led her to Bandera, and she much preferred the night sky than the reality of the empty, dark streets around her. She hadn't encountered many people in Texas, she wanted to keep it that way and towns like this ran the risk of ruining that. She came to a stop in the middle of an empty intersection. Another empty intersection, in a country-- maybe world-- full of empty intersections. The desolation hung in the air, behind her, there stood an old Sonic drive in, in front, a gas station that appeared to have lost a battle with a tornado. Her mp3 player stopped. Fishing the device out of her pocket, the blinking 'empty battery' logo was all she needed to help make the decision.
Gas station it is, then.
Wordlessly, silently, she moved to the boarded windows of the abandoned Shell station. She didn't have a flashlight, so she had to rely on sound to tell her the weakest board, she knocked, quietly, looking for signs of anything, hollowness, termites, rain damage, anything. The board next to the entrance struck her as the weakest, and she reared back, delivering a single, loud kick. The board fell with ease, most of it having already been rotted away. She ran in, trying to silently tip toe around the board and the various litter on the floor of the Gas station mart. Quickly rummaging around, she began her search for AAA batteries.
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