kapuchu — Roleplayer Guild

Not much happened for the next few hours after she was so rudely interrupted by the bandits, except for one moment where she drove past what looked to be the burnt out remnants of a car. Had she been a scavenger, there was no doubt that she'd have jumped at the chance to take whatever was there, but such was not her trade. T'was as true as anything that scavenging was as normal as being a merchant in Dust, but even then she was not comfortable taking something from someone's corpse. It felt wrong, almost as if the glazed-over eyes of the deceased were judging you without ever looking at you. She didn't know whether to chalk it up to the judgement she saw in the eyes of those who realised that she could not help them, and blamed her for their dying. It didn't make sense, of course, but judgement was a sore spot for her, regardless of why she was being judged. Her lips pursed in thought. She really did need to get past her teen years. That kind of judgement was long past, and the reason for it had become something that most people were envious of, one way or the other. That got a small smile out of her. To think that something which had caused her early teens to be a nightmare was now something that most people she knew could only wish for? She chuckled, the sound lost in the wind rushing past her face as she drove onwards. Irony at its finest, is what it was. Speaking of my teens, I wonder how mom & dad are? I haven't been able to visit in the last year. Damn security was tightened so I couldn't sneak in. She held the steer of her motorbike with only one hand as she patted a pocket on her old jeans. At least I can still send them letters. Only a matter of time until—Ah! Dirty roofs rose in the distance, seeming to rise up from the ground like a sprout, taking its first forage into the sun and air above ground. It wasn't a pretty sprout, however, given the copious amounts of dust covering everything from cellar to loft, not to mention the ceiling and every wall in the entire city. Russell Town was far from pretty, but nothing in this world could truly be called pretty, even most men and women were calloused and lined with age all to early. That was in the best of cases, the worst were those who ended up with scars all over from fights in the slums or confrontations with the Wings—the Winged Guardians, that is. Still, it was a city, and one of the largest in the entirety of Dust, and as such one might consider it just a tad bit more beautiful than the rest. I would still have loved to see Venedi or Okinawa before the Fall, Evelina thought as she stopped her bike and hopped off of it a good kilometre away from the city. She was far enough away that whatever guards patrolled the outer perimeters of the city wouldn't notice her, which was just what she wanted. She pulled the bike into a small forest of cacti—consisting of all of eight of the stab-happy plants, and let it lean against one of them. She then pulled a camouflage net out from one of her bike's bags and threw it over the machine. She nodded, satisfied that it was as giid as invisible from a distance. Grabbing her bag with the guns and ammo she had taken from the bandits earlier, as well as some of her own bartering items and whatever water and food she had left, and the letter, she left the cluster of cacti behind, heading for good old Russell Town. ----- Evelina rushed around the corner and pressed herself against the wall, immediately calling upon the light around her, forcing it to bend around her. The Wing came rushing past her, stopping only a metre or two away from her, looking around suspiciously, even staring right at her one moment. She was almost too afraid to breathe as the Wing grumbled something about damn smugglers and "kids being too fast these days." Her entry into the city hadn't expected gone quite as expected. It had been her hope that she could have just walked in without a fuss, perhaps having to bluff her way past if things went south. This, however, she hadn't expected. The Wing had wanted to check her back, to which she had obliged. That was her first mistake. He saw the handful of guns and about twice the number of magazines filled primarily with dirty rounds, but a total of perhaps three or four high grade rounds in all of them together, and he had immediately assumed that she was a weapon smuggler. Her second mistake was saying that no, she wasn't. She had taken them from three other guys whom she had apprehended earlier that day, at which point he accused her of being a thief and robber; even a bandit, she thought she'd heard. That was when she tried to actually bluff her way past him, saying that she was working for his Commanding Officer, and was here to do see if there were any of the Winged Guardians slacking off. And that was when he'd started trying to apprehend her for lying, smuggling, theft, and burglary, as well as banditry. Coincidentally, that's also when she started running. That was a good fifteen minutes ago now, and she had only just managed to shake him off. He hadn't asked her to take off her goggles, so he didn't know of her being an Immortal—something for which she was extremely grateful—nor did he seem very interested in Immortals in general. Most would question why she insisted on keeping her goggles on, but he was more interested in the guns. Greedy old coot. Bet he wanted them for himself. She waited there, pressed up against the wall, for several minutes after the Wing had left before she felt it was safe to move again. She let out a breath in tandem with letting the light around her resume its usual behaviour, rendering her visible again. A breezy laugh escaped past her lips; elated. "That was a bit clo—" A sound from somewhere not so far away made her stop. It wasn't the normal hustle and bustle of the slums. It sounded like a large group of people, and someone shouting at said group of people; she could't quite hear what was being shouted—Not two seconds passed before her curiosity got the better of er, and she was headed for the spectacle. She wasn't prepared for what she saw. She arrived just in time to hear a young and—admittedly—beautiful woman shouting at the crowd, condemning a man hanging upside down without a shred of clothing, for rapes and murders. "You're insane! They were—" "Immortals? Sickos? Mutie Scum? Alice Thomas was nine years old, Adam." WHAT?! It was all Evelina could do not to immediately deliver a crushing blow to this Adam's face. Her fists clenched almost involuntarily, as did she tighten her jaw until it hurt. She couldn't let herself be known right now. In the middle of so many people it was far too dangerous to reveal herself as being an Immortal. Speaking of.. She studied the young woman currently cutting deep lacerations in Adam's body—she ignored the screams—trying to get a good look at her face. There! A flicker of red and yellow caught her attention. There was no mistaking it, this woman was an Immortal just like herself. She paid little attention to this Adam getting cut up, instead scrutinizing this... whoever she was. It was clear to Evelina that this wasn't just meting out justice for a decrepit man, but something far more personal. The vengeful look, the muttered curses in-between loud exclamations. The show was soon over, with Adam still hanging there with blood flowing from his body in several rivulets. It was far from a pretty sight, but if he would rape and murder small girls and young women, only because they were Immortal... He deserved none of her care. To hell with her oath. This was one time where she would refuse any aid. There was, however, one person she thought could use a bit of help. Or perhaps it was her own curiosity making her believe that. The Immortal Woman had left Adam hanging and headed somewhere else. Evelina followed a good ways behind, having entered the shadows of the buildings and bent the light around her again. Thanks to the heavy shadows she could move, albeit slowly, while invisible. Her destination ended up being an old bar—or club—called the Bitches' Brew. It was... seedy, is what she'd call it. Plenty of people who looked clueless about one thing or another, and more than a few sitting on barstools and around tables, sipping at their brightly coloured drinks. Her target was sitting on one such barstool, a glass with some indiscernible liquid in front of her. She looked none the worse for wear, but Evelina had a sneaking suspicion that such was not the case. Her invisibility dropping—no one seemed to notice one more person suddenly appearing from the general vicinity of the door—she made her way over to a adjacent stool, sitting down on it with a 'pomf'. She might've grunted something about her posterior being too big had it not been for the serious and sombre feeling in her gut. A small handful of dirt rounds, and a few words later, and Evelina sat with her own glass of brightly coloured... something. It didn't smell all that good, so she hoped it was just like medicine: Smells foul, tastes better. Taking a sip she discovered that it was exactly like medicine. Right down to the lie of it tasting better than it smells. She forced it down, however, not wanting to spew it all over the table. She set the glass down and turned her head slightly, allowing her to glance at the younger—she assumed—woman through the filtered lenses of her goggles. "You okay?" She asked. A simple question, nothing intrusive, but so very, very loaded with more questions.

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