Vitriol
Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 3:31 pm
((Aston Bennett, Joe Rios & Alice Boucher continue from So Give Me Something To Believe))
"Okay. We're here now. We won't hang around long, but just get everything we need."
The three stepped through the narrow doorway, and Aston's senses were hit by the most repugnant smells. Toxicity and rot, with the force of a 747 engine. She let it linger for a few moments, then stepped through the threshold with her travelling companions.
Ah, the main office. It didn't seem that far off the animal shelter where she spent many an afternoon weekend, well apart from the bodies. Yeah, three bodies, engulfed in white sheets, laid right next to the doorway. She could have mistaken them for an assembly line. The mass-production of death.
Not to mention the fact the place looked like someone let off a bomb in there. Honestly, not a sense of tidiness in here whatsoever. Whoever died here, whoever wasn't wasting their oxygen under those sheets must have put up one hell of a fight, since there was no doubt in her mind that this was probably the tail-end of something horrific.
Still, worrying about the possibilities wasn't Aston's style. The three of them, the three unlikeliest muskateering troupe one could hope to grab and smash together till the blood came out, were just going to stick around and see if they could scrounge out some useful stuff for the field. Maybe whoever was here before left behind something. A weapon? A scalpel? Something toxic? Explore all those possibilities before moving on, first real goal.
Right behind finding and killing this elusive son-of-a-bitch, Quincy Jones.
Before they split, she pulled Joe aside.
"Okay, Joe. We've been a group for a while, so..." Aston didn't really get why she needed to explain herself here. As little time as they spent together, did she trust Joe? Yes. With her life? Maybe. She reached into her back pocket, and pulled out her sidearm.
"Manual says it's a Bersa. Dunno if that means anything to you, but I reloaded it. Ten rounds, I got another 15 in my bag."
Memories popped up of his mention. 2 kills to his name.
"It's just us three from now on for finding my guy, okay? If you find anyone in here-"
2 kills.
"-don't worry about wasting bullets. Use as many as you need."
Except if he's Quincy Jones. They'd had this conversation before.
Aston adjusted her bag and traversed down one of the abandoned hallways, branching from the main room. She could smell death coming from one of them, so didn't bother checking there. The aroma suggested they'd been there way too long for someone to not notice and come a-looting, so she kept searching.
Cabinets of murky bottles and expiration dates since long passed were contained in the last cabinet in the last room she checked. It was always the last rooms, that's how it always works. Last place you check. She picked up a bottle up the back, on the end. Didn't seem too bad, it only expired a few months ago. Just how out of date was this stock anyway?
She sat down on the nearest bed. It had the springiness of a plank of wood. Aston unbuttoned her shirt, tossed it to the side, then began to unwrap the bandages around her shoulder.
Her wound wasn't feeling that good. Little sore. It was her motivation for coming here, she didn't want to tell Alice and Joe that though. She'd be weak. She'd be vulnerable, around her allies who had 3 kills between them and the ability to do more. Aston felt so inadequate, with nothing but words backing her up - she could say she wanted to kill Quincy, she could put on this persona of a girl out for revenge, but the question still remained at the back of her mind; could she really do it?
Until she was given time to prove herself, she'd never know the answer to that. She'd stick around with her two closest allies, and when the moment came, it would all be clear.
"Okay. We're here now. We won't hang around long, but just get everything we need."
The three stepped through the narrow doorway, and Aston's senses were hit by the most repugnant smells. Toxicity and rot, with the force of a 747 engine. She let it linger for a few moments, then stepped through the threshold with her travelling companions.
Ah, the main office. It didn't seem that far off the animal shelter where she spent many an afternoon weekend, well apart from the bodies. Yeah, three bodies, engulfed in white sheets, laid right next to the doorway. She could have mistaken them for an assembly line. The mass-production of death.
Not to mention the fact the place looked like someone let off a bomb in there. Honestly, not a sense of tidiness in here whatsoever. Whoever died here, whoever wasn't wasting their oxygen under those sheets must have put up one hell of a fight, since there was no doubt in her mind that this was probably the tail-end of something horrific.
Still, worrying about the possibilities wasn't Aston's style. The three of them, the three unlikeliest muskateering troupe one could hope to grab and smash together till the blood came out, were just going to stick around and see if they could scrounge out some useful stuff for the field. Maybe whoever was here before left behind something. A weapon? A scalpel? Something toxic? Explore all those possibilities before moving on, first real goal.
Right behind finding and killing this elusive son-of-a-bitch, Quincy Jones.
Before they split, she pulled Joe aside.
"Okay, Joe. We've been a group for a while, so..." Aston didn't really get why she needed to explain herself here. As little time as they spent together, did she trust Joe? Yes. With her life? Maybe. She reached into her back pocket, and pulled out her sidearm.
"Manual says it's a Bersa. Dunno if that means anything to you, but I reloaded it. Ten rounds, I got another 15 in my bag."
Memories popped up of his mention. 2 kills to his name.
"It's just us three from now on for finding my guy, okay? If you find anyone in here-"
2 kills.
"-don't worry about wasting bullets. Use as many as you need."
Except if he's Quincy Jones. They'd had this conversation before.
Aston adjusted her bag and traversed down one of the abandoned hallways, branching from the main room. She could smell death coming from one of them, so didn't bother checking there. The aroma suggested they'd been there way too long for someone to not notice and come a-looting, so she kept searching.
Cabinets of murky bottles and expiration dates since long passed were contained in the last cabinet in the last room she checked. It was always the last rooms, that's how it always works. Last place you check. She picked up a bottle up the back, on the end. Didn't seem too bad, it only expired a few months ago. Just how out of date was this stock anyway?
She sat down on the nearest bed. It had the springiness of a plank of wood. Aston unbuttoned her shirt, tossed it to the side, then began to unwrap the bandages around her shoulder.
Her wound wasn't feeling that good. Little sore. It was her motivation for coming here, she didn't want to tell Alice and Joe that though. She'd be weak. She'd be vulnerable, around her allies who had 3 kills between them and the ability to do more. Aston felt so inadequate, with nothing but words backing her up - she could say she wanted to kill Quincy, she could put on this persona of a girl out for revenge, but the question still remained at the back of her mind; could she really do it?
Until she was given time to prove herself, she'd never know the answer to that. She'd stick around with her two closest allies, and when the moment came, it would all be clear.