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- Old Guild Username: 101 Scout1
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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ButtsnBalls
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Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Current
I'm home for now!
6 yrs ago
I'm out of town for a few weeks. Feel free to shoot me a pm, I'll answer it when I get back!
7 yrs ago
First tattoo! Whoo!
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8 yrs ago
Absolutely astounded... Blown away. Received the best feedback on any writing piece I've ever done and I honestly have no words to express how good it feels to see the work pay off.
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8 yrs ago
Huh... I never realized I never used this. Maybe I should start... Okay, first status! C'MON SCOUT, DON'T LET THE PEOPLE DOWN! They're expecting a great status!
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Most Recent Posts
Got 'eem! Shall we keep a timeline like last time?
Damn, Az... You're a busy man. I'm really sorry about your loss and I hope you can still enjoy your week with the kids. Good luck, man.
Oh dear god, our MPD Friend is back in action...
Oh dear god, our MPD Friend is back in action...
He's just a, ways off of the site, what if he doesn't see Will or gets up and leaves first? XD I was wondering if that might throw a twist into it. Or he passes out and they don't notice...
Felix laid on his back on the floor of his 'room,' staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel like reading... or working out. He had all day to do either of those two things and right now, he was just wondering yet again when he was going to get out of here and make sure Will was alright. It was going to take a long time to get to Maine, but he knew for sure that whatever was going on had to be serious. They would have been let out if it wasn't. Their small town, despite being up north, was full of hunters and gun nuts. Will wasn't too bad himself, even if he was more of a bowman - they'd probably hole up somewhere and have a hell of a party until everything died down. That's just the way things went back home - no reason for anything to get in the way of that, right?
No, Renault knew better. He'd seen more than enough of his share of 'it's the perfect plan' go wrong to know that it was naive. He just needed a place to start and from there, he'd track him down. Or, everything was under control and they were just waiting until it was fully contained and eradicated to let them go. Whatever was happening, it couldn't go on for much longer.
Click.
Felix bolted upright... Was that what he thought it was? He furrowed his brow and climbed to his feet. He wore a pair of dark jeans and an underarmour shirt with a tan rigger's belt and his combat boots. Slowly, he approached his door, pressing his shoulder to it briefly. It instantly gave way to his weight as he started to press and finally he shoved it open, looking up and down the halls. He was toward the end, so his room actually opened up early. "What? No greeting party?" He asked, looking around.
"No time, Renault. Shut your trap, hit the armory, gear up." Was that one of the guards? It was hard to tell as they shouted and every room started to open with tentative heads poking out. Chaos ensued, but he rushed to the room at the end of the hall where he was directed. Several people were grabbing for anything and everything they could. He reached for a tactical vest and clipped all of the straps into place around him before attaching a holster and an M9 to it. He grabbed a sheathed K-BAR, smirking at the government's choice on weapons for their CDC armory. Never disappointing, he decided. Finally, he took hold of one of the M4A1 Carbines on the wall and placed the strap over his neck, holding it tightly to his chest. He pulled a couple of extra magazines from the ammo boxes in the cabinets under the weaponry - these idiots really had no idea how to raid a fucking armory and slipped them into his tac-vest.
"Stop grabbing for anything you dimwits!" He shouted as somebody tried to push past him for one of the shotguns. He pushed the nerdy kid aside, "If you don't know how it works, don't grab it..." He muttered - god damn, did they just grab a bunch of computer junkies and throw them into this place? Hell of a lot of good that did them. Felix returned to his work, finally grabbing a green, canvas ammo bag and tossing a couple of boxes inside. He zipped it shut and threw the straps over his shoulders.
He was just about to start helping move the group and equip the others to get them upstairs when he realized he hadn't grabbed anything from his room. The soldier dashed back to his cell, snatched a pair of sunglasses and stuffed a few articles of clothing into the backpack with a grin, fuckers told me I was crazy 'cause I wanted a pair in confinement... who's laughing now? - The answer still wasn't him.
He stepped back out of his room and things were getting worse. Some people were pushing others up the stairs and each of them was fending for themselves. He heard the shouts from the lower level and started backing toward the stairs, rifle raised, "KEEP THE LINE MOVING!" He shouted behind him, "Hasn't anybody done a fire drill before..? Geeze..." He muttered under his breath. The sound of shattering glass filled the hall as a bottle broke - who the fuck cooked up a molotov and threw it in the building? It took a second to process the real reason they were let out - the CDC was under siege, not ready to release them. His eyes remained fixed on the sights of his weapon as he moved backwards up the stairs with the throngs of people... He didn't want to waste a shot here, and luckily they were still a ways behind him. He had to get out of this building and find Will... The man finally made it to the roof, relatively quickly too as people parted for the man who looked to know what the hell he was doing. Times like this, everybody needed a leader. He didn't want to be it, but it was certainly convenient.
What were they doing with a helicopter up here? Was his first honest thought. His second was which seat to take. He settled on one by the door and, much to his dismay, only a few feet behind him was that nerdy kid from the armory. Well, they had to save who they could. He helped pull the runt into the chopper and pushed him into a seat, "Strap in, kid... You're in for a hell of a ride."
He smacked the side of the chopper so the pilot could hear it and shouted over the whirring blades, "We're full! She can't carry anybody else, we're gonna have to make a second trip," He said - the pilots and he both knew there was no second trip, but few others in that helo would understand the real gravity of it.
Metal twisted, turned, rolled and folded into itself as they hit the clearing, sliding through the dirt only to stop at the treeline. Felix groaned, rubbing his head as he came to, several feet deeper in the woods, against a tree. Apparently, something in the belts snaps, because he was leaning against a tree with blurring vision of the smoking crash site, rubbing his forehead. He didn't want to move... not yet. He just listened for the sounds of other survivors or approaching attackers. Not even out of that compound for ten minutes and he could already feel it: the world had gone to Hell.
No, Renault knew better. He'd seen more than enough of his share of 'it's the perfect plan' go wrong to know that it was naive. He just needed a place to start and from there, he'd track him down. Or, everything was under control and they were just waiting until it was fully contained and eradicated to let them go. Whatever was happening, it couldn't go on for much longer.
Click.
Felix bolted upright... Was that what he thought it was? He furrowed his brow and climbed to his feet. He wore a pair of dark jeans and an underarmour shirt with a tan rigger's belt and his combat boots. Slowly, he approached his door, pressing his shoulder to it briefly. It instantly gave way to his weight as he started to press and finally he shoved it open, looking up and down the halls. He was toward the end, so his room actually opened up early. "What? No greeting party?" He asked, looking around.
"No time, Renault. Shut your trap, hit the armory, gear up." Was that one of the guards? It was hard to tell as they shouted and every room started to open with tentative heads poking out. Chaos ensued, but he rushed to the room at the end of the hall where he was directed. Several people were grabbing for anything and everything they could. He reached for a tactical vest and clipped all of the straps into place around him before attaching a holster and an M9 to it. He grabbed a sheathed K-BAR, smirking at the government's choice on weapons for their CDC armory. Never disappointing, he decided. Finally, he took hold of one of the M4A1 Carbines on the wall and placed the strap over his neck, holding it tightly to his chest. He pulled a couple of extra magazines from the ammo boxes in the cabinets under the weaponry - these idiots really had no idea how to raid a fucking armory and slipped them into his tac-vest.
"Stop grabbing for anything you dimwits!" He shouted as somebody tried to push past him for one of the shotguns. He pushed the nerdy kid aside, "If you don't know how it works, don't grab it..." He muttered - god damn, did they just grab a bunch of computer junkies and throw them into this place? Hell of a lot of good that did them. Felix returned to his work, finally grabbing a green, canvas ammo bag and tossing a couple of boxes inside. He zipped it shut and threw the straps over his shoulders.
He was just about to start helping move the group and equip the others to get them upstairs when he realized he hadn't grabbed anything from his room. The soldier dashed back to his cell, snatched a pair of sunglasses and stuffed a few articles of clothing into the backpack with a grin, fuckers told me I was crazy 'cause I wanted a pair in confinement... who's laughing now? - The answer still wasn't him.
He stepped back out of his room and things were getting worse. Some people were pushing others up the stairs and each of them was fending for themselves. He heard the shouts from the lower level and started backing toward the stairs, rifle raised, "KEEP THE LINE MOVING!" He shouted behind him, "Hasn't anybody done a fire drill before..? Geeze..." He muttered under his breath. The sound of shattering glass filled the hall as a bottle broke - who the fuck cooked up a molotov and threw it in the building? It took a second to process the real reason they were let out - the CDC was under siege, not ready to release them. His eyes remained fixed on the sights of his weapon as he moved backwards up the stairs with the throngs of people... He didn't want to waste a shot here, and luckily they were still a ways behind him. He had to get out of this building and find Will... The man finally made it to the roof, relatively quickly too as people parted for the man who looked to know what the hell he was doing. Times like this, everybody needed a leader. He didn't want to be it, but it was certainly convenient.
What were they doing with a helicopter up here? Was his first honest thought. His second was which seat to take. He settled on one by the door and, much to his dismay, only a few feet behind him was that nerdy kid from the armory. Well, they had to save who they could. He helped pull the runt into the chopper and pushed him into a seat, "Strap in, kid... You're in for a hell of a ride."
He smacked the side of the chopper so the pilot could hear it and shouted over the whirring blades, "We're full! She can't carry anybody else, we're gonna have to make a second trip," He said - the pilots and he both knew there was no second trip, but few others in that helo would understand the real gravity of it.
Metal twisted, turned, rolled and folded into itself as they hit the clearing, sliding through the dirt only to stop at the treeline. Felix groaned, rubbing his head as he came to, several feet deeper in the woods, against a tree. Apparently, something in the belts snaps, because he was leaning against a tree with blurring vision of the smoking crash site, rubbing his forehead. He didn't want to move... not yet. He just listened for the sounds of other survivors or approaching attackers. Not even out of that compound for ten minutes and he could already feel it: the world had gone to Hell.
"Uh... Ulyssa... I... I don't think you should touch their stuff, I mean - you know, if they're not here and we haven't even met them yet... Doesn't it seem a bit intrusive?" She asked, rubbing her neck as she turned from the window. "Plus, her clothes look kind of... like she doesn't like them being touched," The girl noted, seeing skulls and different punky designs on them. When their roommates finally walked in and introduced themselves, she quirked an eyebrow.
Lyra grinned after the introductions, "Wait, Rayne and Noriko... Like team RAVN..? THAT Rayne and Noriko?" She asked brightly, "Oh my god, my papa took me to the Vytal Tournament last year - we watched all four of you fight. I didn't get to see the actual championship fight, we had to come home 'cause he had work... But it was so cool watching you guys all take down the other team! It was... so cool," She praised excitedly, hopping to her bunk all the way from the floor to sit on it and look at their room from up high.
It was only just now that she realized how mild Noriko seemed... But she was such a skilled fighter... What was making her uncomfortable?
You know what kind of tempers they have...
Lyra's ear's dropped a little, "Oh, uh, I hope you guys don't mind my being a Faunus. I've already heard some people around campus muttering about it - I certainly thought there'd be more like me here, but... I guess I didn't know just how Vale looked at us until recently. I mean, I knew, but I thought it was a little different here, so if it's a problem... Y'know, we can figure something out. Talk to the Headmaster or something, I'm sure they understand." She worked not to sound downtrodden over it, more addressing it as just a fact. In actuality, if the two members of Team RAVN, whom she'd only just met, didn't like her because of the way she was born, then she'd probably break down on the spot. She glanced to Ulyssa, realizing she hadn't really figured out if the other girl didn't care or if she was just really good at hiding it.
Owyn pulled his sheath from his belt and set it down, looking at their roommate as he introduced himself. He didn't shake hands, just shrugged, "Cool," He said coldly, starting to unpack his bags. "Yeah, what he said... Name's Owyn." For now, he could really care less. He just wanted some sleep in a bed and some peace and quiet. These last three days sucked and this 'Voyd' guy hardly seemed like anybody worth his time. Only a psychopath would want to see Initiation through to the end again. Maybe by the time they were ready to graduate, Initiation would seem like cakewalk.
Once he had most of his things unpacked, Owyn pulled his jacket off and kicked off his boots, climbing into bed. "Night," He said, without really acknowledging any further conversation, his back turned and his bed only half-made.
Voyd raised an eyebrow, "Alright... Well, based on your could-give-a-fuck attitude, I'm gonna let you two know right now..." With a grin, he leaned forward, "I don't like either of you. Fuck, try to make some friends while you're here, or you'll die out there. You're in a team of four, but you gotta work in groups of teams sometimes too - the more people who don't like you, the harder it's gonna be. Not to mention, if you even make it to graduation, Mr. Soren, Mr. Owyn, once you're real, real Huntsmen, you're going to be working alongside everybody here. Including me. And Aero. And your other teammates."
He shrugged and smirked, "Yeah... Swimmingly," He teased.
-----
Droplets of blood black as night spattered the ground as Lysander flicked his blade clean. He didn't take his eyes off the creature on the ground until it disintegrated. He pulled his rifle from his side and collapsed his katana, fitting it snugly into the firearm before extending the stock and pressing it firmly into his shoulder. He cleared his throat and cracked his neck, looking to the sky, waiting... listening...
The entire forest felt silent as he stood in the center. Because of Initiation, they hadn't let him hunt for three days... Three days! How ludicrous that they extended it. Were those little kids supposed to clean the place up? For Pete's sake, it would probably take four of them to handle a single Death Stalker... Or two to take down an Ursa. What a joke. He felt sorry for the ones who had to face off against a Nevermore. That was his prey of choice... He grinned at the thought of the newbies - they'd all have their share of obstacles and challenges with the Grimm here... But this, how he and his team were right now, this was how Huntsmen were. The students were defensive prey, but Team RAVN were predators. They were Huntsmen. He stared down the slightly magnified score and watched sky... The massive crows - harbingers of death - were his favorite targets. They fought like hell, had the aerial advantage, and, best of all, got to act as ironic omens of their own demise.
CAW!! The sound split the forest, echoing through every tree and bouncing off the mountains in the distance. Finally! God, he was beginning to think he'd hunted them out. What a shame that would be.
Lysander waited for it to break into his field of vision in the large, plain-like clearing. No doubt the sound from his last fight had drawn it out. Wait for it... Wait for it... There it was! The taste left his mouth and he could only hear things extremely close to him, but he could make out every single feather on that soulless bird's body as he fired round after round into it from the floor, taking a knee. It let out a bone-chilling screech as it finally spotted him and shook off the pain of his ranged weapon.
"Come and get it..." He muttered, his senses returning as he pulled the katana from his gun once more, lengthening it quickly and readying for the attack.
--
THUD! The bird came crashing out of the sky and into the field, a victorious soon-to-be-Hunstman holding a blade in its back and still firing a gun into the rear of its head. It was certainly dead, but he was making sure. Finally, he stopped, and it turned to smoke under him before he fell to the ground and landed upright. He spit on the floor, "Plenty more to come. Maybe I'll come hunt your flockmates tomorrow," He said waving a hand at the death site. He looked over his cloak... Good, he didn't spill anything on it. At least nothing that stuck. Time to get back.
As he ascended the stairs to his room at the top of his dormitory's tower at Beacon, he sighed... Chances were that he and Voyd were going to have new roommates. He'd actually hoped they'd get a year without them, but no such luck. He knew the newbies were coming, and he and Voyd would be expected to hold their hands and tell them it was all going to be just great! Ugh... disgusting.
Lyra grinned after the introductions, "Wait, Rayne and Noriko... Like team RAVN..? THAT Rayne and Noriko?" She asked brightly, "Oh my god, my papa took me to the Vytal Tournament last year - we watched all four of you fight. I didn't get to see the actual championship fight, we had to come home 'cause he had work... But it was so cool watching you guys all take down the other team! It was... so cool," She praised excitedly, hopping to her bunk all the way from the floor to sit on it and look at their room from up high.
It was only just now that she realized how mild Noriko seemed... But she was such a skilled fighter... What was making her uncomfortable?
You know what kind of tempers they have...
Lyra's ear's dropped a little, "Oh, uh, I hope you guys don't mind my being a Faunus. I've already heard some people around campus muttering about it - I certainly thought there'd be more like me here, but... I guess I didn't know just how Vale looked at us until recently. I mean, I knew, but I thought it was a little different here, so if it's a problem... Y'know, we can figure something out. Talk to the Headmaster or something, I'm sure they understand." She worked not to sound downtrodden over it, more addressing it as just a fact. In actuality, if the two members of Team RAVN, whom she'd only just met, didn't like her because of the way she was born, then she'd probably break down on the spot. She glanced to Ulyssa, realizing she hadn't really figured out if the other girl didn't care or if she was just really good at hiding it.
Owyn pulled his sheath from his belt and set it down, looking at their roommate as he introduced himself. He didn't shake hands, just shrugged, "Cool," He said coldly, starting to unpack his bags. "Yeah, what he said... Name's Owyn." For now, he could really care less. He just wanted some sleep in a bed and some peace and quiet. These last three days sucked and this 'Voyd' guy hardly seemed like anybody worth his time. Only a psychopath would want to see Initiation through to the end again. Maybe by the time they were ready to graduate, Initiation would seem like cakewalk.
Once he had most of his things unpacked, Owyn pulled his jacket off and kicked off his boots, climbing into bed. "Night," He said, without really acknowledging any further conversation, his back turned and his bed only half-made.
Voyd raised an eyebrow, "Alright... Well, based on your could-give-a-fuck attitude, I'm gonna let you two know right now..." With a grin, he leaned forward, "I don't like either of you. Fuck, try to make some friends while you're here, or you'll die out there. You're in a team of four, but you gotta work in groups of teams sometimes too - the more people who don't like you, the harder it's gonna be. Not to mention, if you even make it to graduation, Mr. Soren, Mr. Owyn, once you're real, real Huntsmen, you're going to be working alongside everybody here. Including me. And Aero. And your other teammates."
He shrugged and smirked, "Yeah... Swimmingly," He teased.
-----
Droplets of blood black as night spattered the ground as Lysander flicked his blade clean. He didn't take his eyes off the creature on the ground until it disintegrated. He pulled his rifle from his side and collapsed his katana, fitting it snugly into the firearm before extending the stock and pressing it firmly into his shoulder. He cleared his throat and cracked his neck, looking to the sky, waiting... listening...
The entire forest felt silent as he stood in the center. Because of Initiation, they hadn't let him hunt for three days... Three days! How ludicrous that they extended it. Were those little kids supposed to clean the place up? For Pete's sake, it would probably take four of them to handle a single Death Stalker... Or two to take down an Ursa. What a joke. He felt sorry for the ones who had to face off against a Nevermore. That was his prey of choice... He grinned at the thought of the newbies - they'd all have their share of obstacles and challenges with the Grimm here... But this, how he and his team were right now, this was how Huntsmen were. The students were defensive prey, but Team RAVN were predators. They were Huntsmen. He stared down the slightly magnified score and watched sky... The massive crows - harbingers of death - were his favorite targets. They fought like hell, had the aerial advantage, and, best of all, got to act as ironic omens of their own demise.
CAW!! The sound split the forest, echoing through every tree and bouncing off the mountains in the distance. Finally! God, he was beginning to think he'd hunted them out. What a shame that would be.
Lysander waited for it to break into his field of vision in the large, plain-like clearing. No doubt the sound from his last fight had drawn it out. Wait for it... Wait for it... There it was! The taste left his mouth and he could only hear things extremely close to him, but he could make out every single feather on that soulless bird's body as he fired round after round into it from the floor, taking a knee. It let out a bone-chilling screech as it finally spotted him and shook off the pain of his ranged weapon.
"Come and get it..." He muttered, his senses returning as he pulled the katana from his gun once more, lengthening it quickly and readying for the attack.
--
THUD! The bird came crashing out of the sky and into the field, a victorious soon-to-be-Hunstman holding a blade in its back and still firing a gun into the rear of its head. It was certainly dead, but he was making sure. Finally, he stopped, and it turned to smoke under him before he fell to the ground and landed upright. He spit on the floor, "Plenty more to come. Maybe I'll come hunt your flockmates tomorrow," He said waving a hand at the death site. He looked over his cloak... Good, he didn't spill anything on it. At least nothing that stuck. Time to get back.
As he ascended the stairs to his room at the top of his dormitory's tower at Beacon, he sighed... Chances were that he and Voyd were going to have new roommates. He'd actually hoped they'd get a year without them, but no such luck. He knew the newbies were coming, and he and Voyd would be expected to hold their hands and tell them it was all going to be just great! Ugh... disgusting.
Spectre nodded, "Fair enough. Just making sure my hospitality is on-par with polite standards... Though, I suppose not having any food kind of means it failed." He shrugged; it obviously didn't bother him that much. "I gave up on the new people a long time ago... But to be honest, I didn't want help figuring the game out - I really enjoyed my early months in the game, still discovering new stuff and finding all the little things you could do was half the fun. I can't stand the ones out asking for a handout or a 'mentor...' They let way too many little kids on here, it's almost ridiculous..."
The Mechanic came back into the parlour and stretched a bit, "Ah... Anyway, we don't get our tasks for a few days, so until then, we're kinda stuck just doing our normal thing or seeing how we work together. I do, however, have work most this week... They're keeping me real busy, got a really big thing coming up here soon that could apparently make or break the company. I assure you, not nearly as interesting as it sounds," He stated, waving a hand, "But, if there's something else you'd like to do online, I'm all ears. Otherwise I'm pretty free this weekend. Might go out with a friend for a while, but my nephew's gonna be gone till Sunday, I'm really quite open."
Ping!
James looked to the top right of his field of vision to see a notification pop-up. It was a message, which he promptly opened and began passively reading - he was still part of his conversation, but he wanted to check who this was from.
From: R1ngz
Subject: Got Something...
Hey, Spectre, I think you might be a bit interested in this... Found a guy out on the Mythic Side. Apparently somebody he knows got a really rare drop recently that he's been trying to get himself. He wants it... Bad. Wiling to pay out huge - I'll only charge you a small finder's fee for his information if you want to take the job on. We're talkin' big cash. Apparently this thing, whatever it is, can't be bought on the regular market. We're talking some high-level stuff here. You're a good thief, and I don't think anybody's ever tried to steal from this guy. You can check out his place if we've got a deal. Hit me up.
-R1ngz to Rule them All
Spectre closed the e-mail... God he hated that name, but he found some of the best jobs and there was no doubting that. Maybe later he'd check out the score. It'd be nice to not have to fence something too - paid jobs were the best jobs, but also the hardest. Petty thievery was for skill grinding... This kind of task could only be done with enough work on the less than exciting half of it.
"Nothing important," He said, swiping the message away for now. "So, what are you doing the rest of the evening?"
The Mechanic came back into the parlour and stretched a bit, "Ah... Anyway, we don't get our tasks for a few days, so until then, we're kinda stuck just doing our normal thing or seeing how we work together. I do, however, have work most this week... They're keeping me real busy, got a really big thing coming up here soon that could apparently make or break the company. I assure you, not nearly as interesting as it sounds," He stated, waving a hand, "But, if there's something else you'd like to do online, I'm all ears. Otherwise I'm pretty free this weekend. Might go out with a friend for a while, but my nephew's gonna be gone till Sunday, I'm really quite open."
Ping!
James looked to the top right of his field of vision to see a notification pop-up. It was a message, which he promptly opened and began passively reading - he was still part of his conversation, but he wanted to check who this was from.
From: R1ngz
Subject: Got Something...
Hey, Spectre, I think you might be a bit interested in this... Found a guy out on the Mythic Side. Apparently somebody he knows got a really rare drop recently that he's been trying to get himself. He wants it... Bad. Wiling to pay out huge - I'll only charge you a small finder's fee for his information if you want to take the job on. We're talkin' big cash. Apparently this thing, whatever it is, can't be bought on the regular market. We're talking some high-level stuff here. You're a good thief, and I don't think anybody's ever tried to steal from this guy. You can check out his place if we've got a deal. Hit me up.
-R1ngz to Rule them All
Spectre closed the e-mail... God he hated that name, but he found some of the best jobs and there was no doubting that. Maybe later he'd check out the score. It'd be nice to not have to fence something too - paid jobs were the best jobs, but also the hardest. Petty thievery was for skill grinding... This kind of task could only be done with enough work on the less than exciting half of it.
"Nothing important," He said, swiping the message away for now. "So, what are you doing the rest of the evening?"
Hopefully posting this weekend... We'll see, homework pending.
Hmm... Question... What's the armory loadout?
Hmm... Question... What's the armory loadout?
July XX, 2017
Taylor Marsha Johnson
No, no, that wasn't it... She miscounted again... Fuck, was it a leap year? No, that was last year. Okay, so if it had been... how many days again? Shit, she knew she lost the date, she couldn't count the days anymore. There weren't satellite clocks or calendars to mark off anymore, she didn't even think to have a watch when the shit really hit the fan. Honestly, it didn't seem important until it was too late anyway. All she knew was that it was July... ish. And it was hot. And the Illinois-Indiana Border had to be around here somewhere.
She adjusted her sunglasses and hat, through which a ponytail was fed in the rear. God damn that sun... She swore this weather was going to be the death of her someday, even before all of this. Humid, hot summers with dry, cold winters. It was like Hell part of the year and like... Cold Hell the other part. Ridiculous. Her backpack had her hoodie folded up inside of it, taking up way too much space. She needed to be sheltered and back in Ohio by winter, but at this rate, she was never going to make it. Why didn't her parents teach her to read a map, anyway? She stood now on Highway... Fuck, she could hardly tell at this point. All she knew was that the sun rose from that direction, so it was the way she was going. If she could get anywhere near home, she'd be able to tell from the signs where she was. She needed a car, or a bike, or something... But not a single one of the abandoned pieces of shit out here worked anymore. They were all left with keys in them, running, or out of gas. It would take far too long to try them all, too.
She sprawled her map out over a car hood as her eyes raked its contents. She checked the surrounding signs... Yeah, that... that had to be her spot, right?
The unmistakable sound of fuel being burned at an excessive volume filled the air quickly and loudly. She looked around but saw nothing. Not yet, at least. Shit... Three bikes, not one of them giving a friendly sound. She snatched her map off the car hood and darted for the treeline just off the highway. No, no, no... Please don't see... Please, for the love of god, don't see...
She burst into the woods and kept running like hell. Twigs snapped under her foot while branches scratched at her sides and calves. Fuck, she'd worry about that later. Just get away, just go, go... She haphazardly folded the map and stuffed it into a jean pocket before pulling her pistol from her side, slowing to a creeping walk. So far, she'd only had to kill a handful of those... things, and not a single person. She was lucky, that was all there was to it. And really, those had been heat of the moment instances... She'd never had to decide to kill one before it got her - it was always defense. She found a large tree and placed her back to it, hiding away from the highway with her ears focused. Maybe they hadn't seen her, or better yet, didn't follow her.
"C'mon, Jack... Let me go first this time... Did you see the legs on this one? Hot damn, man! In those little jeans..." One of them complained scratching his balls with a bit more enthusiasm than one should.
"Shut up... I think we should let this one live, Martinez. Shit, it'd be good for us to have a little road whore, don't you think? She's got the tats for it, she'll fit right in. We can take her down south, I'm sure she'd love to have a nice warm place to spend her winter, after all. But fine, you can start it off this time, if you really think it's going to matter. She's not gonna feel yours anyway," the one named Jack replied with a gut-wrenching snort. It sounded like 'Martinez' was about to retort, but decided against it. Never once in her life had Taylor regretted the tattoos she'd had done over her young life. They always felt like a part of her... Today, she wished she could burn them all off her skin if they would just go away.
"Well fuck me, I guess," A third voice spoke, figuring it was time to stake its claim in the conversation. "I don't get shit?"
"Fuck no. Now both of you, shut the fuck up... I saw her start slowing down over here somewhere... C'mon out, girlie... We just wanna keep you safe, it's gonna get cold in a few months here... Don't you wanna keep warm?"
Crack. A branch snapped only a few feet from her tree. Fuck... Fuck, they were right there... C'mon, Taylor... He taught you how to use this fucking thing... Derek wanted to protect you, so he taught you to do it yourself... Now just do it! She whipped out around the tree and fired off as many shots as she possibly could before the pistol clicked empty, screaming as she did it. It wasn't until after she ran out of ammunition that she opened her eyes to two very pissed off bikers and one, dead as a doornail. Dear god, she hoped it was Martinez... Fucking savage. The woman started to back away, watching her footing with one hand as she pulled out her machete with the other.
"Get the fuck away from me! GET AWAY!" She cried, swinging the kukri to ward them off. No such luck... She tripped backwards over a root and tried scrambling farther away.
The two grinned, "You don't really think we can let you get away with that... right? I mean... I didn't care about the guy that much... But shit, girl... You just killed a man..." He said in an almost 'disappointed father-like' voice.
The next several weeks were hell... Her salvation came, almost ironically, in the form of a curse. Two bikers who couldn't contain the sounds they made one night were attacked by a small band of Shufflers. They could have easily killed them all, but they weren't paying attention and were, quite literally, caught with their pants down. Taylor slipped away in the confusion on one of their bikes, which she only kept for a day to get away before letting it roll down a hill, twisting around itself.
She watched the metal twist as it crashed down the concrete decline and spit on the ground after it, screaming "FUCK YOU!" Over... and over. She didn't even know where she was anymore, but she knew one thing for sure... If she ever found a shower again, it wouldn't help her feel any cleaner.
November 2nd, 2017
Taylor Marsha Johnson
The woman cracked her neck, slowly rolling it from one side... to the other. She found herself in Missouri, her trek home taking even longer than she'd hoped. Those pricks took her a lot farther west than she thought possible, but she tried to push forward. She was going somewhere and couldn't let where she'd been hinder her now. Nobody traveled with her, and she avoided all people and things as best she could. Along the way, she found a couple of books and remembered some yoga classes she took as electives in college. It did wonders on the mornings she could do them... Just like today. Her P226 rested on the ground beside her with her machete and other gear as she sunk low into a stretch and sighed with relief. This was one of the few things that would allow her brain that euphoric release of tranquility. Fifteen minutes later, she was brushing the dirt from her jeans and shirt and gearing back up.
Over the last few months, she'd acquired a tactical vest and some magazines that, thankfully, fit her pistol. She hadn't needed to use many, but she kept them filled and always prepared. She holstered the pistol under her left arm and pulled her backpack over her shoulder before putting her CPD hat back on over her sunglasses. She had on a light jacket, but the weather was getting colder... It wasn't cutting it anymore. She'd need a real coat, or at least somewhere better to sleep, if she wanted to make it through the winter. Her breath showed in the morning, but not during the day if there was sunlight, thankfully.
Taylor rubbed her neck. It was sore, but she'd gotten used to the ground recently. She rarely took refuge in houses anymore. You couldn't trust them.
Taylor Marsha Johnson
No, no, that wasn't it... She miscounted again... Fuck, was it a leap year? No, that was last year. Okay, so if it had been... how many days again? Shit, she knew she lost the date, she couldn't count the days anymore. There weren't satellite clocks or calendars to mark off anymore, she didn't even think to have a watch when the shit really hit the fan. Honestly, it didn't seem important until it was too late anyway. All she knew was that it was July... ish. And it was hot. And the Illinois-Indiana Border had to be around here somewhere.
She adjusted her sunglasses and hat, through which a ponytail was fed in the rear. God damn that sun... She swore this weather was going to be the death of her someday, even before all of this. Humid, hot summers with dry, cold winters. It was like Hell part of the year and like... Cold Hell the other part. Ridiculous. Her backpack had her hoodie folded up inside of it, taking up way too much space. She needed to be sheltered and back in Ohio by winter, but at this rate, she was never going to make it. Why didn't her parents teach her to read a map, anyway? She stood now on Highway... Fuck, she could hardly tell at this point. All she knew was that the sun rose from that direction, so it was the way she was going. If she could get anywhere near home, she'd be able to tell from the signs where she was. She needed a car, or a bike, or something... But not a single one of the abandoned pieces of shit out here worked anymore. They were all left with keys in them, running, or out of gas. It would take far too long to try them all, too.
She sprawled her map out over a car hood as her eyes raked its contents. She checked the surrounding signs... Yeah, that... that had to be her spot, right?
The unmistakable sound of fuel being burned at an excessive volume filled the air quickly and loudly. She looked around but saw nothing. Not yet, at least. Shit... Three bikes, not one of them giving a friendly sound. She snatched her map off the car hood and darted for the treeline just off the highway. No, no, no... Please don't see... Please, for the love of god, don't see...
She burst into the woods and kept running like hell. Twigs snapped under her foot while branches scratched at her sides and calves. Fuck, she'd worry about that later. Just get away, just go, go... She haphazardly folded the map and stuffed it into a jean pocket before pulling her pistol from her side, slowing to a creeping walk. So far, she'd only had to kill a handful of those... things, and not a single person. She was lucky, that was all there was to it. And really, those had been heat of the moment instances... She'd never had to decide to kill one before it got her - it was always defense. She found a large tree and placed her back to it, hiding away from the highway with her ears focused. Maybe they hadn't seen her, or better yet, didn't follow her.
"C'mon, Jack... Let me go first this time... Did you see the legs on this one? Hot damn, man! In those little jeans..." One of them complained scratching his balls with a bit more enthusiasm than one should.
"Shut up... I think we should let this one live, Martinez. Shit, it'd be good for us to have a little road whore, don't you think? She's got the tats for it, she'll fit right in. We can take her down south, I'm sure she'd love to have a nice warm place to spend her winter, after all. But fine, you can start it off this time, if you really think it's going to matter. She's not gonna feel yours anyway," the one named Jack replied with a gut-wrenching snort. It sounded like 'Martinez' was about to retort, but decided against it. Never once in her life had Taylor regretted the tattoos she'd had done over her young life. They always felt like a part of her... Today, she wished she could burn them all off her skin if they would just go away.
"Well fuck me, I guess," A third voice spoke, figuring it was time to stake its claim in the conversation. "I don't get shit?"
"Fuck no. Now both of you, shut the fuck up... I saw her start slowing down over here somewhere... C'mon out, girlie... We just wanna keep you safe, it's gonna get cold in a few months here... Don't you wanna keep warm?"
Crack. A branch snapped only a few feet from her tree. Fuck... Fuck, they were right there... C'mon, Taylor... He taught you how to use this fucking thing... Derek wanted to protect you, so he taught you to do it yourself... Now just do it! She whipped out around the tree and fired off as many shots as she possibly could before the pistol clicked empty, screaming as she did it. It wasn't until after she ran out of ammunition that she opened her eyes to two very pissed off bikers and one, dead as a doornail. Dear god, she hoped it was Martinez... Fucking savage. The woman started to back away, watching her footing with one hand as she pulled out her machete with the other.
"Get the fuck away from me! GET AWAY!" She cried, swinging the kukri to ward them off. No such luck... She tripped backwards over a root and tried scrambling farther away.
The two grinned, "You don't really think we can let you get away with that... right? I mean... I didn't care about the guy that much... But shit, girl... You just killed a man..." He said in an almost 'disappointed father-like' voice.
The next several weeks were hell... Her salvation came, almost ironically, in the form of a curse. Two bikers who couldn't contain the sounds they made one night were attacked by a small band of Shufflers. They could have easily killed them all, but they weren't paying attention and were, quite literally, caught with their pants down. Taylor slipped away in the confusion on one of their bikes, which she only kept for a day to get away before letting it roll down a hill, twisting around itself.
She watched the metal twist as it crashed down the concrete decline and spit on the ground after it, screaming "FUCK YOU!" Over... and over. She didn't even know where she was anymore, but she knew one thing for sure... If she ever found a shower again, it wouldn't help her feel any cleaner.
November 2nd, 2017
Taylor Marsha Johnson
The woman cracked her neck, slowly rolling it from one side... to the other. She found herself in Missouri, her trek home taking even longer than she'd hoped. Those pricks took her a lot farther west than she thought possible, but she tried to push forward. She was going somewhere and couldn't let where she'd been hinder her now. Nobody traveled with her, and she avoided all people and things as best she could. Along the way, she found a couple of books and remembered some yoga classes she took as electives in college. It did wonders on the mornings she could do them... Just like today. Her P226 rested on the ground beside her with her machete and other gear as she sunk low into a stretch and sighed with relief. This was one of the few things that would allow her brain that euphoric release of tranquility. Fifteen minutes later, she was brushing the dirt from her jeans and shirt and gearing back up.
Over the last few months, she'd acquired a tactical vest and some magazines that, thankfully, fit her pistol. She hadn't needed to use many, but she kept them filled and always prepared. She holstered the pistol under her left arm and pulled her backpack over her shoulder before putting her CPD hat back on over her sunglasses. She had on a light jacket, but the weather was getting colder... It wasn't cutting it anymore. She'd need a real coat, or at least somewhere better to sleep, if she wanted to make it through the winter. Her breath showed in the morning, but not during the day if there was sunlight, thankfully.
Taylor rubbed her neck. It was sore, but she'd gotten used to the ground recently. She rarely took refuge in houses anymore. You couldn't trust them.
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