F05 ASHLEY PONTECORVO: START
Man, this scythe was cool as shit. It was almost as tall as Ashley was, and the curved blade looked wicked sharp and made a sweet woosh as it arced through the air.
Fuckin' pity about the lowlife scum that had given it to her and why.
Ashley wasn't freaking out. Not anymore, at least. She'd done so earlier, when she first woke up in this literal junkpile, and she'd screamed and swore and punched the window on an old junker car. All that had gotten her was cut knuckles, and once she'd finished screaming herself out, she was able to focus on the task of digging the first-aid kit out of the bag the jarhead fucks had left her for bandages and antiseptic. Then she'd turned her attention to the weapon.
The anger was still there, coiled tight and ready to let loose if needed, but Ashley didn't need it right this second. She was still fuzzy in the head, and there was nobody immediately around, though if anyone was within hearing distance they surely knew she was there.
Ashley waited another couple of minutes after swinging the scythe around, but nobody showed. Either nobody was there, they were avoiding her after the yelling, or they were slowpokes. Or overly-cautious. Or still asleep. Too many possibilities for her to sit around wondering about them until something happened to narrow down the list, really.
Ashley sighed and leaned back against the car she'd punched, not caring that it got rust on her uniform. She loosened her tie, considered for a moment, then undid it altogether and tossed it aside. Her uniform blazer followed; wherever the hell they were, it was a sight warmer than back at home. Thinking of home made her throat tight and her mouth dry, so she instead focused on unbuttoning her blouse to get a breeze, revealing the tank top she'd worn underneath with its inverted cross. A little something to get a rise out of anybody who was still feeling uptight in a crisis. After unbuttoning the shirt, Ashley rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. Much more freeing than all that nonsense.
Some small measure of personal comfort achieved, Ashley retrieved the scythe from where it was leaning on the car. With that all done... well, shit. That was about as far of a plan as she'd come up with. The yelling was all well and good, but there was nobody around to yell at.
Well. Somebody would show sooner or later. They always did.
With little else to do besides wander around, which didn't sound appealing just yet, Ashley climbed onto the hood of the car and waited. The sea birds that had scattered in fright at her earlier screaming were already circling back around. She wondered if they were scavengers. Probably. She flipped them the bird and allowed herself a fleeting grin as she thought of the pun.
Yankee Punks Fuck Off
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Wham Yubeesling
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...Admittedly, it had taken Michelle a moment to remember everything that had happened.
((F01: Michelle White — Game Start))
She’d woken while sat up laying against a pile of junk and in a midst of lethargy and typical sleepy tiredness the final moments before she’d last fallen asleep had been effectively removed from her memories. She’d gotten up, looked around the… scrapyard? Boat place? and the only thing on her mind was confusion over how she got here, a serious hope that her mind would jog her up soon and let her be fit as a fiddle, ready to get back home from wherever she was. She… hadn’t ever seen this place before and she wasn’t very sure where in Bellington this would be but admittedly she’d never really been to any of the poorer or more desolate places in town. Maybe she was somewhere there? She wasn’t really sure why she’d fall asleep here in the first place but maybe now that she was walking down here she could get on the track and find her way out. Catch the bus back home.
Good plan?
May-
She heard a voice, in the distance. Heard it scream. Recognized — as distorted, mangled as it was — that it was one of her classmates.
Everything came back.
And as she kept walking through wherever she was — heading towards the screams — her body started to buckle, stumble with each step forward. Images came back into her mind of the bombing planes in the sky her teachers being killed right in front of her eyes the soldiers forcing them to the helicopters and her stomach started to twist, churn, as if there were butterflies inside trying to tear their way out. She remembered the part in between the man on the stage talking about something the words whizzing by her head and her throat dried up, hollowed out, made it feel like someone was drilling a hole through it. She kept on walking, but there wasn’t any thought behind the action. Her head, whatever part of her that was thinking right now was focused on the images, attempting to make them stop get them out just not think about them just die just stop thinking just stop-
She’d kept walking, long after the screaming had stopped. She stepped out, into a sort of clearing amongst all the garbage. Ashley was there, sitting on the car. Another person trapped with Michelle, who had the same memories she had.
She looked at Ashley, for a second. Thought, for a moment, that they were looking into each other's eyes.
And then her body recoiled, heaved, fell to the ground. Acted as if she was vomiting, even though nothing was coming out.
((F01: Michelle White — Game Start))
She’d woken while sat up laying against a pile of junk and in a midst of lethargy and typical sleepy tiredness the final moments before she’d last fallen asleep had been effectively removed from her memories. She’d gotten up, looked around the… scrapyard? Boat place? and the only thing on her mind was confusion over how she got here, a serious hope that her mind would jog her up soon and let her be fit as a fiddle, ready to get back home from wherever she was. She… hadn’t ever seen this place before and she wasn’t very sure where in Bellington this would be but admittedly she’d never really been to any of the poorer or more desolate places in town. Maybe she was somewhere there? She wasn’t really sure why she’d fall asleep here in the first place but maybe now that she was walking down here she could get on the track and find her way out. Catch the bus back home.
Good plan?
May-
She heard a voice, in the distance. Heard it scream. Recognized — as distorted, mangled as it was — that it was one of her classmates.
Everything came back.
And as she kept walking through wherever she was — heading towards the screams — her body started to buckle, stumble with each step forward. Images came back into her mind of the bombing planes in the sky her teachers being killed right in front of her eyes the soldiers forcing them to the helicopters and her stomach started to twist, churn, as if there were butterflies inside trying to tear their way out. She remembered the part in between the man on the stage talking about something the words whizzing by her head and her throat dried up, hollowed out, made it feel like someone was drilling a hole through it. She kept on walking, but there wasn’t any thought behind the action. Her head, whatever part of her that was thinking right now was focused on the images, attempting to make them stop get them out just not think about them just die just stop thinking just stop-
She’d kept walking, long after the screaming had stopped. She stepped out, into a sort of clearing amongst all the garbage. Ashley was there, sitting on the car. Another person trapped with Michelle, who had the same memories she had.
She looked at Ashley, for a second. Thought, for a moment, that they were looking into each other's eyes.
And then her body recoiled, heaved, fell to the ground. Acted as if she was vomiting, even though nothing was coming out.
"Ah, shit."
Ashley's voice was a bit hoarse from earlier. She'd seen water in the bag while digging for the first-aid kit but hadn't thought to drink any. That explained some of the drymouth. She'd need to take care of that once Michelle was done dying.
Well. Not dying. That kind of mental hyperbole wasn't good for the situation, huh? Once Michelle was done being sick. Ashley chewed at her lower lip for a second. She didn't know Michelle as anything other than a face in class; maybe this kind of reaction was normal to her and no big deal?
Eh. Probably not. Ashley slid off the hood of the car and trudged over, leaning over Michelle as she heaved on the ground.
"Hey." Uh, fuck. Michelle could probably use some water herself, but she couldn't, like... answer...
"So when you're done with that, I've got water and stuff." There, that did it. Good job being helpful, Ashley. Thank you, Ashley.
Ashley's voice was a bit hoarse from earlier. She'd seen water in the bag while digging for the first-aid kit but hadn't thought to drink any. That explained some of the drymouth. She'd need to take care of that once Michelle was done dying.
Well. Not dying. That kind of mental hyperbole wasn't good for the situation, huh? Once Michelle was done being sick. Ashley chewed at her lower lip for a second. She didn't know Michelle as anything other than a face in class; maybe this kind of reaction was normal to her and no big deal?
Eh. Probably not. Ashley slid off the hood of the car and trudged over, leaning over Michelle as she heaved on the ground.
"Hey." Uh, fuck. Michelle could probably use some water herself, but she couldn't, like... answer...
"So when you're done with that, I've got water and stuff." There, that did it. Good job being helpful, Ashley. Thank you, Ashley.
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Wham Yubeesling
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She saw Ashley’s feet, in the corners of her eyes. Heard her voice say something, as indistinct as it was.
And whatever was punching through the inside of her stomach eased up, stayed down as she lifted her head, saw slightly more of Ashley. Michelle could only look upward enough for her to see Ashley’s lower body, the arm that was offering her water, but even then she could see that Ashley didn’t seem too effected by what was going on. She looked calm, cool, as if Mrs. Horton and Mr. Shaw hadn’t been murdered in front of her before they’d been taken away from their homes even though they were here in the program as if the two of them weren’t going to die weren’t going to be killed by the U.S.A by their own classmates by-
No.
No.
She wasn’t allowing herself to think about that. The images weren’t going to go back into her head. Ashley was cool and Ashley looked pretty and even though she’d never talked to Ashley because she’d always seemed so intimidating to talk to she knew she had to try and be cool like her. Not be a dork and embarrass herself like she did with all the interviews and-
…
…
No. Had to be cool. Be better than… all of this. She looked up. Tried to give herself a better picture of Ashley.
“Where’d… you get that?” Michelle asked, indicating the water bottle.
And whatever was punching through the inside of her stomach eased up, stayed down as she lifted her head, saw slightly more of Ashley. Michelle could only look upward enough for her to see Ashley’s lower body, the arm that was offering her water, but even then she could see that Ashley didn’t seem too effected by what was going on. She looked calm, cool, as if Mrs. Horton and Mr. Shaw hadn’t been murdered in front of her before they’d been taken away from their homes even though they were here in the program as if the two of them weren’t going to die weren’t going to be killed by the U.S.A by their own classmates by-
No.
No.
She wasn’t allowing herself to think about that. The images weren’t going to go back into her head. Ashley was cool and Ashley looked pretty and even though she’d never talked to Ashley because she’d always seemed so intimidating to talk to she knew she had to try and be cool like her. Not be a dork and embarrass herself like she did with all the interviews and-
…
…
No. Had to be cool. Be better than… all of this. She looked up. Tried to give herself a better picture of Ashley.
“Where’d… you get that?” Michelle asked, indicating the water bottle.
Well, at least Michelle wasn't crying. Ashley had never liked criers.
She shook the water bottle in Michelle's direction. "From my bag." She shrugged the shoulder that she'd slung the strap of the bag over to punctuate her point. "...Didn't you have one?"
This was cool, this was fine. Just talk about some stupid shit. Keep it together. Ashley had plenty in reserve that she wanted to let out, but there were no good targets around. She'd thought about taking a potshot at a camera when she spotted one, but she'd remembered what Brigadier-General Arsehole had said about those. She wasn't scared of him or whatever he threatened to do; at the same time, she didn't doubt that he and plenty of other scumbags would jump at the chance to gun down anyone who stepped out of line. That was how they were.
Ashley was pissed, but she wasn't pissed enough to get herself killed before someone came for them.
She shook the water bottle in Michelle's direction. "From my bag." She shrugged the shoulder that she'd slung the strap of the bag over to punctuate her point. "...Didn't you have one?"
This was cool, this was fine. Just talk about some stupid shit. Keep it together. Ashley had plenty in reserve that she wanted to let out, but there were no good targets around. She'd thought about taking a potshot at a camera when she spotted one, but she'd remembered what Brigadier-General Arsehole had said about those. She wasn't scared of him or whatever he threatened to do; at the same time, she didn't doubt that he and plenty of other scumbags would jump at the chance to gun down anyone who stepped out of line. That was how they were.
Ashley was pissed, but she wasn't pissed enough to get herself killed before someone came for them.
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Wham Yubeesling
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“My bag? I-”
She moved her body up into a kneeling position. Attempted to look behind at her back. She knew from touch alone that there was nothing strapped there but she still felt it worth to make sure. Maybe in the midst of everything going through her mind she’d been a total idiot and just hadn’t felt that there was something there. She actually was a total idiot because as it turned out she just hadn’t seen the thing in the first place and while she would normally try to spin it as if there were benefits to doing that… nothing was coming to her mind. Honestly thinking about it that was worse. Now she really looked like an idiot, especially in front of Ashley.
...She just had to recover. It was an honest mistake, maybe, in a place like this. Maybe Ashley would understand.
“I… must have left it behind, somewhere.” She focused her gaze from Ashley to the path that she’d entered the clearing through. “I, um, wasn’t thinking straight when everything here started, sorry…”
She moved her body up into a kneeling position. Attempted to look behind at her back. She knew from touch alone that there was nothing strapped there but she still felt it worth to make sure. Maybe in the midst of everything going through her mind she’d been a total idiot and just hadn’t felt that there was something there. She actually was a total idiot because as it turned out she just hadn’t seen the thing in the first place and while she would normally try to spin it as if there were benefits to doing that… nothing was coming to her mind. Honestly thinking about it that was worse. Now she really looked like an idiot, especially in front of Ashley.
...She just had to recover. It was an honest mistake, maybe, in a place like this. Maybe Ashley would understand.
“I… must have left it behind, somewhere.” She focused her gaze from Ashley to the path that she’d entered the clearing through. “I, um, wasn’t thinking straight when everything here started, sorry…”
"Well, don't apologize to me." While Michelle was looking around, Ashley twisted the cap off her water bottle and took a swig. She'd have loved to throw the whole thing out, rub it in the Yanks' faces that she didn't need their second-rate shit, but damn, she was thirsty. When she'd quenched her thirst, she brandished the water at Michelle again.
"I guess we could head back the way you came and see if it's still there." And if it wasn't, they'd know someone was lurking around whose ass Ashley needed to kick. But honestly, she didn't have anything better to do right now. If they did find someone who needed a beating, it'd give her an outlet, and then they could get their head screwed on straight too once the stupid had been kicked out of them.
"I guess we could head back the way you came and see if it's still there." And if it wasn't, they'd know someone was lurking around whose ass Ashley needed to kick. But honestly, she didn't have anything better to do right now. If they did find someone who needed a beating, it'd give her an outlet, and then they could get their head screwed on straight too once the stupid had been kicked out of them.
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Wham Yubeesling
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“Okay, I, uh…”
She breathed and felt what she’d only just noticed as salty air go down her throat, making it feel as if something wasn’t strangling her, at least until she breathed out again. With that, she tried her best to stand up again, make sure she could balance on her own two feet without accidentally toppling over and regressing to the vomiting out nothing stage again. She looked at Ashley. Stood on her tip-toes, for a bit. Were they working together, now? Ashley seemed to want to go with Michelle and there didn’t seem to be any sort of resignation in her voice as she’d said that, so…
Maybe that was an occasion for happiness here? She didn’t really know if there was any way to feel good about this situation but maybe it would be good if the mood wasn’t dour all the time? It seemed like a good plan, at the very least. She tried her best to smile. Give a smirk as if she was passing one of her friends in the hallways.
“Okay!” She said, faux-beaming. “I’m… um... ready to go when you are!”
The chuckle after her statement had far more nervous energy than any sort of positive equivalent. The image of the soldiers murdering her teachers appeared in her head again, she remembered where she was, and her laugh became something quieter, something lesser than what it’d been before.
She breathed and felt what she’d only just noticed as salty air go down her throat, making it feel as if something wasn’t strangling her, at least until she breathed out again. With that, she tried her best to stand up again, make sure she could balance on her own two feet without accidentally toppling over and regressing to the vomiting out nothing stage again. She looked at Ashley. Stood on her tip-toes, for a bit. Were they working together, now? Ashley seemed to want to go with Michelle and there didn’t seem to be any sort of resignation in her voice as she’d said that, so…
Maybe that was an occasion for happiness here? She didn’t really know if there was any way to feel good about this situation but maybe it would be good if the mood wasn’t dour all the time? It seemed like a good plan, at the very least. She tried her best to smile. Give a smirk as if she was passing one of her friends in the hallways.
“Okay!” She said, faux-beaming. “I’m… um... ready to go when you are!”
The chuckle after her statement had far more nervous energy than any sort of positive equivalent. The image of the soldiers murdering her teachers appeared in her head again, she remembered where she was, and her laugh became something quieter, something lesser than what it’d been before.
Michelle sure as shit wasn't holding it together, but she was sort of trying, and Ashley figured she got like half a gold star for effort. Michelle also didn't take the water that had been offered a second time, so Ashley tucked it back inside the bag. Not like she was diseased, but whatever, maybe Michelle was one of those germophobes.
"Yeah, one sec." She backtracked to the car and retrieved the scythe. Now, how in the hell was she supposed to carry this thing? Slung over her shoulders didn't seem like a good idea. Walking stick? Also not great. Ashley grimaced at her slightly-less-cool-than-before weapon before experimentally resting it over just one shoulder like a bat. Not ideal, but this way seemed the least likely to end up biting her in the ass, possibly literally.
"Okay, let's go. Where'd you come from?"
"Yeah, one sec." She backtracked to the car and retrieved the scythe. Now, how in the hell was she supposed to carry this thing? Slung over her shoulders didn't seem like a good idea. Walking stick? Also not great. Ashley grimaced at her slightly-less-cool-than-before weapon before experimentally resting it over just one shoulder like a bat. Not ideal, but this way seemed the least likely to end up biting her in the ass, possibly literally.
"Okay, let's go. Where'd you come from?"
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Wham Yubeesling
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“That way.”
Michelle pointed behind her, towards the pathway which she’d entered this clearing from. She looked down, slightly, as Ashley put the water bottle back into her bag. Was Michelle supposed to drink from it? She wasn’t sure. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to since she had her own water bottle somewhere out there in wherever she was and taking from someone else’s supplies would be incredibly rude but maybe Ashley had wanted her to do so and Michelle had just snuffed her? She didn’t know. She hoped she hadn’t been rude though. No way of telling — especially here — and she didn’t really want to know what the consequences of being rude to Ashley would be — again, especially here.
But things seemed okay. Ashley didn’t seem too bothered with this situation in general. Maybe Michelle was being too optimistic, but geez, did this place really need optimism right now. She looked at Ashley, turned around, and started going back from where she came.
“I think it was a single path although I wasn’t entirely looking at what was around me and I could have missed something,” she said to Ashley, all in one breath. “Sorry if I’m wrong and get us lost.”
Michelle pointed behind her, towards the pathway which she’d entered this clearing from. She looked down, slightly, as Ashley put the water bottle back into her bag. Was Michelle supposed to drink from it? She wasn’t sure. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to since she had her own water bottle somewhere out there in wherever she was and taking from someone else’s supplies would be incredibly rude but maybe Ashley had wanted her to do so and Michelle had just snuffed her? She didn’t know. She hoped she hadn’t been rude though. No way of telling — especially here — and she didn’t really want to know what the consequences of being rude to Ashley would be — again, especially here.
But things seemed okay. Ashley didn’t seem too bothered with this situation in general. Maybe Michelle was being too optimistic, but geez, did this place really need optimism right now. She looked at Ashley, turned around, and started going back from where she came.
“I think it was a single path although I wasn’t entirely looking at what was around me and I could have missed something,” she said to Ashley, all in one breath. “Sorry if I’m wrong and get us lost.”
Ashley rolled her eyes in lieu of telling Michelle not to apologize again. It was a scrap heap, not a maze. They wouldn't have a hard time finding their way out even if they got turned around. Michelle didn't seem overly concerned about the scythe either; maybe she was doing that thing where you just don't point out what's obviously wrong with this picture because you want to be polite. Ashley had always thought that was stupid, but it seemed like Michelle's style.
"Yeah, well, lead the way. Maybe we'll find something good." Or something-slash-someone in need of a pounding. Ashley could go either way.
It was a pity that none of the machines here were in any condition to be hotwired and driven around. That could have almost been fun, a nice little distraction until their guys came along to pants the Americans again and get them out of this mess. Ashley didn't believe for a second that the borders of wherever they were were as secure as whats-his-name had promised them. That was what the yanks had thought the first time around.
See, Ashley, to the surprise of some, actually paid attention to the news. She knew what had gone down in Mexico; she could hazard a guess that this just might be the same place. A little repeat performance for the Red, White, and Bitch since the last one had been spoiled. It didn't surprise her that the US Army had fed its people a heaping shovel of bullshit about the Brits swooping in to kill their kids and then fuck back off into the sunset with nothing accomplished, nor that the public had probably swallowed it without question.
She knew better. All of her classmates should know better, too. They weren't idiots - well, some of them were idiots, but they weren't animals. They weren't American cattle, and they weren't going to start tearing each other to pieces because some fuck in uniform told them to, much less some fuck in an enemy uniform.
Ashley wasn't necessarily England's best and brightest, nor had she ever dreamed of seeing anything resembling combat, but fuck, she was here. She was going to make her country - and her family, fuckin' Grandpa left all on his lonesome when all they had was each other - proud while she was here.
And if she got to punch any yankee fucks in the face, she'd hit them twice. Once for herself and her classmates, and once for her parents.
"Yeah, well, lead the way. Maybe we'll find something good." Or something-slash-someone in need of a pounding. Ashley could go either way.
It was a pity that none of the machines here were in any condition to be hotwired and driven around. That could have almost been fun, a nice little distraction until their guys came along to pants the Americans again and get them out of this mess. Ashley didn't believe for a second that the borders of wherever they were were as secure as whats-his-name had promised them. That was what the yanks had thought the first time around.
See, Ashley, to the surprise of some, actually paid attention to the news. She knew what had gone down in Mexico; she could hazard a guess that this just might be the same place. A little repeat performance for the Red, White, and Bitch since the last one had been spoiled. It didn't surprise her that the US Army had fed its people a heaping shovel of bullshit about the Brits swooping in to kill their kids and then fuck back off into the sunset with nothing accomplished, nor that the public had probably swallowed it without question.
She knew better. All of her classmates should know better, too. They weren't idiots - well, some of them were idiots, but they weren't animals. They weren't American cattle, and they weren't going to start tearing each other to pieces because some fuck in uniform told them to, much less some fuck in an enemy uniform.
Ashley wasn't necessarily England's best and brightest, nor had she ever dreamed of seeing anything resembling combat, but fuck, she was here. She was going to make her country - and her family, fuckin' Grandpa left all on his lonesome when all they had was each other - proud while she was here.
And if she got to punch any yankee fucks in the face, she'd hit them twice. Once for herself and her classmates, and once for her parents.
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Wham Yubeesling
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“Okay.”
And she led the way, keeping an eye out behind her to make sure nothing was happening to Ashley and to make sure Ashley wasn’t going to make anything happen. She seemed nice and really anyone who showed kindness to Michelle would be someone Michelle would not hesitate to show kindness back to but admittedly trust wasn’t at the level which she wanted it at. Maybe she was being her usual anxious self but she knew what the rules of this game were, she could see the scythe that Ashley was holding on her back. Maybe she was just being paranoid but with that and with the attitude she seemed to wear back at school Michelle couldn’t think of her as 100% that she wouldn’t just turn over slam that scythe down at any-
She paused. For a second. Breathed. She wasn’t going to allow herself to think of her classmates like that. They weren’t going to become the enemy. She wouldn’t let that happen. The… people here weren’t going to change them like that.
So she started walking again. Turned a corner through the corridor of waste and saw a bag like Ashley’s, laid to rest right beside the pile where she woke up. She sped to a trot, moved over to quickly grab it with her right hand before turning around, looking at her companion.
“Got it.” She hoisted it up, placed it on one shoulder as if she was about to walk to school. “What now?”
And she led the way, keeping an eye out behind her to make sure nothing was happening to Ashley and to make sure Ashley wasn’t going to make anything happen. She seemed nice and really anyone who showed kindness to Michelle would be someone Michelle would not hesitate to show kindness back to but admittedly trust wasn’t at the level which she wanted it at. Maybe she was being her usual anxious self but she knew what the rules of this game were, she could see the scythe that Ashley was holding on her back. Maybe she was just being paranoid but with that and with the attitude she seemed to wear back at school Michelle couldn’t think of her as 100% that she wouldn’t just turn over slam that scythe down at any-
She paused. For a second. Breathed. She wasn’t going to allow herself to think of her classmates like that. They weren’t going to become the enemy. She wouldn’t let that happen. The… people here weren’t going to change them like that.
So she started walking again. Turned a corner through the corridor of waste and saw a bag like Ashley’s, laid to rest right beside the pile where she woke up. She sped to a trot, moved over to quickly grab it with her right hand before turning around, looking at her companion.
“Got it.” She hoisted it up, placed it on one shoulder as if she was about to walk to school. “What now?”
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MurderWeasel
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"Heh."
That vocalization, which lived somewhere between genuine chuckle and voluntary exclamation, was the first sign that there was anyone else around. It was followed quickly, however, by the appearance of Morton Bishop from behind the rusted out hulk of an old pickup truck that was missing its front wheels. He grabbed onto the rim of the bed, kicked against the disintegrating tires, and hoisted himself up into the flat cargo area of the truck, then gave a little wave at the two below him.
"Sooooo..." he said, "you girls leave that lying around just for fun? I was about to help myself."
Morton's blazer was resting on his shoulders, but his arms weren't in the sleeves; that it had remained in this position during his climb was testament to his attention to his attire and a quick pinching of fabric in armpit. He'd loosened but not undone his tie, and all in all he was feeling pretty alright in this climate. There was a hint of sea breeze, a hint of rusty metal-and-oil stench, and he hadn't really been exerting himself. No, he'd woken up, surveyed his surroundings, taken stock of his equipment, and then waited.
The bag lying there, unattended, had been tempting. Too tempting, in fact. Morton didn't think his peers so likely to immediately embrace what the dogs holding them captive asked of them, but it would only take one to kick things off and he had no intention of being the sorry fool to fall victim first. A bag, seemingly without owner, looked and smelled like a trap. He'd been proud of that judgment, and also proud of his adaptation to the situation, finding a good vantage point from which to watch the object through a gap under the truck, all the better to, well, to keep his options opened he supposed. He could've intervened had something untoward occurred to whatever moron did just walk up and poke at the bag, or else maybe if it turned out not to be a trap he could've made himself known and claimed it by right of first discovery. But that was all moot now. Michelle had no pack of her own, so it was simple to put two and two together. She was a fool, and had lost what meager tools she'd been given, but at least had enough sense to return for them.
Morton's own provisions were of course decent. He'd been given a knife, but more than that, a knife that came with ammunition. That had been a puzzler at first, but when he'd skimmed the manual he'd actually started to giggle. It was a knife full of compressed carbon dioxide that could be released at the touch of a switch, the better to blow up the organs of whoever you stabbed. It was recommended for killing sharks. That was pretty badass.
The knife lived at his belt, but he had no reason to brandish it just now. He had every advantage if the other two wanted to start something, as unlike Ashley his weapon wasn't taller than him and probably didn't require much skill to wield. Not that he expected trouble from these two, of course. They were nowhere near organized enough to bring it.
That vocalization, which lived somewhere between genuine chuckle and voluntary exclamation, was the first sign that there was anyone else around. It was followed quickly, however, by the appearance of Morton Bishop from behind the rusted out hulk of an old pickup truck that was missing its front wheels. He grabbed onto the rim of the bed, kicked against the disintegrating tires, and hoisted himself up into the flat cargo area of the truck, then gave a little wave at the two below him.
"Sooooo..." he said, "you girls leave that lying around just for fun? I was about to help myself."
Morton's blazer was resting on his shoulders, but his arms weren't in the sleeves; that it had remained in this position during his climb was testament to his attention to his attire and a quick pinching of fabric in armpit. He'd loosened but not undone his tie, and all in all he was feeling pretty alright in this climate. There was a hint of sea breeze, a hint of rusty metal-and-oil stench, and he hadn't really been exerting himself. No, he'd woken up, surveyed his surroundings, taken stock of his equipment, and then waited.
The bag lying there, unattended, had been tempting. Too tempting, in fact. Morton didn't think his peers so likely to immediately embrace what the dogs holding them captive asked of them, but it would only take one to kick things off and he had no intention of being the sorry fool to fall victim first. A bag, seemingly without owner, looked and smelled like a trap. He'd been proud of that judgment, and also proud of his adaptation to the situation, finding a good vantage point from which to watch the object through a gap under the truck, all the better to, well, to keep his options opened he supposed. He could've intervened had something untoward occurred to whatever moron did just walk up and poke at the bag, or else maybe if it turned out not to be a trap he could've made himself known and claimed it by right of first discovery. But that was all moot now. Michelle had no pack of her own, so it was simple to put two and two together. She was a fool, and had lost what meager tools she'd been given, but at least had enough sense to return for them.
Morton's own provisions were of course decent. He'd been given a knife, but more than that, a knife that came with ammunition. That had been a puzzler at first, but when he'd skimmed the manual he'd actually started to giggle. It was a knife full of compressed carbon dioxide that could be released at the touch of a switch, the better to blow up the organs of whoever you stabbed. It was recommended for killing sharks. That was pretty badass.
The knife lived at his belt, but he had no reason to brandish it just now. He had every advantage if the other two wanted to start something, as unlike Ashley his weapon wasn't taller than him and probably didn't require much skill to wield. Not that he expected trouble from these two, of course. They were nowhere near organized enough to bring it.
Finally, the prodigal son in need of a swift kick in the butt showed himself.
Maybe that wasn't being fair to Morton in the current circumstances, but it wasn't unfair to him in general. He was smarmy as all get-out, and Ashley didn't like his stupid face. She'd gone tense for the few seconds between when he first spoke up and when he revealed himself. It took longer for her to place his voice than it did for him to actually appear. She unconsciously shifted her grip on the scythe's long handle, grimacing a bit as she flexed the cuts on her bandaged knuckles.
"Meh," she summed up any and all thoughts or feelings she had about this little jaunt. "Where ya planning on keeping all of it if you did, though? Only got two hands, last I looked." Ashley wasn't endeared by his attitude already, and she wasn't sure if it showed on her face. Then again, she'd been unhappy and mad from the very beginning, so maybe there was no difference.
The important thing wasn't that she already disliked Morton, it was that he'd so freely admitted that he was already willing to act underhanded. They'd all been given bags; a bag left unattended meant someone had forgotten it or had to leave it behind for some reason or another, and that someone was possibly close by and definitely without supplies. You didn't have to be up there with Morton in grades to figure that much out. So he'd been ready to steal from someone who might be in need for... what?
Ah, there it was, the thing that had gotten under Ashley's skin. Sometimes you had to work it all out to get to the heart of your own feelings.
The thing was that Morton had some kind of angle, when nobody should have any angles at all, and in true smarmy fuck fashion, he was willing to just hint to them that he had it and not what it was. Ashley comfortably decided that her original assessment regarding Morton, his butt, and the necessity of kicking such hadn't been off the mark at all.
"Whatever. You just been hanging around, or what?"
Maybe that wasn't being fair to Morton in the current circumstances, but it wasn't unfair to him in general. He was smarmy as all get-out, and Ashley didn't like his stupid face. She'd gone tense for the few seconds between when he first spoke up and when he revealed himself. It took longer for her to place his voice than it did for him to actually appear. She unconsciously shifted her grip on the scythe's long handle, grimacing a bit as she flexed the cuts on her bandaged knuckles.
"Meh," she summed up any and all thoughts or feelings she had about this little jaunt. "Where ya planning on keeping all of it if you did, though? Only got two hands, last I looked." Ashley wasn't endeared by his attitude already, and she wasn't sure if it showed on her face. Then again, she'd been unhappy and mad from the very beginning, so maybe there was no difference.
The important thing wasn't that she already disliked Morton, it was that he'd so freely admitted that he was already willing to act underhanded. They'd all been given bags; a bag left unattended meant someone had forgotten it or had to leave it behind for some reason or another, and that someone was possibly close by and definitely without supplies. You didn't have to be up there with Morton in grades to figure that much out. So he'd been ready to steal from someone who might be in need for... what?
Ah, there it was, the thing that had gotten under Ashley's skin. Sometimes you had to work it all out to get to the heart of your own feelings.
The thing was that Morton had some kind of angle, when nobody should have any angles at all, and in true smarmy fuck fashion, he was willing to just hint to them that he had it and not what it was. Ashley comfortably decided that her original assessment regarding Morton, his butt, and the necessity of kicking such hadn't been off the mark at all.
"Whatever. You just been hanging around, or what?"
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“It’s mine,” Michelle said, pulling her bag closer to herself.
She took a step backwards, as she did so. Focused her eyes on Morton, whichever direction he happened to be looking. She wanted to make sure that no matter what he did, she would notice quickly, figure out whatever the best option happened to be. She knew that maybe it would be unfair to judge him the way she was doing right now — he was a victim of this game, just as anyone else here was — but if anyone was going to do what the Americans wanted them to do, he was likely one of the ones who wouldn’t have trouble participating. She’d heard about what he’d done with some of the people she tried to protect, and while that wasn’t anything she had been capable of stopping, she still didn’t approve of the way he acted to others one bit and she did the best she could to make sure others didn’t fall victim.
But maybe he had changed. Perhaps being here would allow the two of them to co-exist. In all likelihood he had seen the teachers die as well, and while Michelle still didn’t think he was all that good a person, perhaps seeing that sight would have put some things into perspective for him. She had to remember who the real enemy was. It wasn’t Morton. If possible, maybe he would make a good ally, companion, however this confrontation resulted.
So she stayed silent. Let Ashley lead the conversation. If Morton seemed willing to listen and be convinced of what to do, maybe she could speak again, further pull him in. Hopefully, Ashley and her weren’t the only people who wished to keep their humanity.
She took a step backwards, as she did so. Focused her eyes on Morton, whichever direction he happened to be looking. She wanted to make sure that no matter what he did, she would notice quickly, figure out whatever the best option happened to be. She knew that maybe it would be unfair to judge him the way she was doing right now — he was a victim of this game, just as anyone else here was — but if anyone was going to do what the Americans wanted them to do, he was likely one of the ones who wouldn’t have trouble participating. She’d heard about what he’d done with some of the people she tried to protect, and while that wasn’t anything she had been capable of stopping, she still didn’t approve of the way he acted to others one bit and she did the best she could to make sure others didn’t fall victim.
But maybe he had changed. Perhaps being here would allow the two of them to co-exist. In all likelihood he had seen the teachers die as well, and while Michelle still didn’t think he was all that good a person, perhaps seeing that sight would have put some things into perspective for him. She had to remember who the real enemy was. It wasn’t Morton. If possible, maybe he would make a good ally, companion, however this confrontation resulted.
So she stayed silent. Let Ashley lead the conversation. If Morton seemed willing to listen and be convinced of what to do, maybe she could speak again, further pull him in. Hopefully, Ashley and her weren’t the only people who wished to keep their humanity.