((Mina Mashall continued from It's Not Me, It's You))
As the pair traveled together, Mina had become increasingly assured and apprehensive that Charlie was really not about to fall over dead.
This was not how Mina had imagined spending the final hours of her life, and she still wasn't at all sure just how okay she was with the situation. It had become what it had become, though, and the two of them had made their way, as furtively as possible, towards the trashier part of town. The whole time, Mina had been expecting something to go wrong, to turn the situation into yet another nightmare or struggle for survival, but they had moved unchallenged except by their own fatigue and injuries. Perhaps most of the others were sleeping. Perhaps the hunters were at work somewhere else. Perhaps Charlie's presence dissuaded some from making themselves known.
When the second announcement played, Mina gestured for quiet and again recorded the broadcast, still not quite sure why she was bothering with tactics. Hadn't she determined, way back at the start of all of this, that she was not the sort to survive? She was just as absurd as KeKe and her heels, pretending that their fate was something other than what it was. And still, Mina thought, as the voice faded, she wasn't going to make it easy on her killer.
Her bun had come largely undone over the course of her stay, and so she took another rest as opportunity to fix it. It was more a practicality and comfort concern than one of vanity; Mina had abandoned dignity back in the auditorium, and surely she was a mess viewed from any degree of detachment. Her knee was bandaged, her skirt torn, her boots scuffed, and she hadn't had proper rest her whole time here. The last time she'd had a drink was hours ago. She could have borrowed Charlie's knife and used it to cut the excess hair off, she thought, or maybe even enlisted the girl's assistance, but that was something she wouldn't do. It wasn't vanity, either—her hair would probably look worse as it was now—but rather a point of principle, a one-sided argument. As long as her eventual death wasn't due to that decision, she'd be satisfied.
The sun was up, now, and yet the odd stillness lingered. There were sounds of others from time to time, but they were distant, and Mina made no suggestion that she and Charlie explore their sources. Instead, the two were heading towards a low building made of dirty stucco, blocks from the strange dwelling with the mattresses and crates, but quite alike to it in exterior. Mina had her hand on her hook and was keeping low, glancing around, memories of her past explorations in this vicinity still fresh in her mind: shattered glass, shouting, a gunshot. Marion and Kassandra had still been alive as of last announcement, which was the most mild of bright spots. Charlie's kill, of course, had also been there for the world to hear, but Mina had made no comment on it.
"Keep an eye out," Mina said, as she started to move towards the door. "Last time I was near here, someone tried to snipe me."
Strange Bedfellows
Phase 3 (25-36 Hours), Mina and Charlie
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
It was a rough night.
Saying that the initial danger had passed wasn't correct, because nothing about the situation had become any less dangerous across the hours of twilight and darkness, not even with Mina there. It was more accurate that the immediate risk of Charlie collapsing from her injuries appeared to be receding.
She'd lost a lot of blood.
The irony was that the parameters for survival in the long term hadn't even moved, just, maybe, what she wanted to do about it.
Not much of a maybe. Easier to think of that way.
"Would have been helpful to know that sooner," said Charlie dryly. "Thank you, Mina."
She didn't make to duck for cover. Strategically not the best, probably, but chances were after this length of time whoever had shot at Mina just wasn't there any more. Or alive.
She was really tired.
Saying that the initial danger had passed wasn't correct, because nothing about the situation had become any less dangerous across the hours of twilight and darkness, not even with Mina there. It was more accurate that the immediate risk of Charlie collapsing from her injuries appeared to be receding.
She'd lost a lot of blood.
The irony was that the parameters for survival in the long term hadn't even moved, just, maybe, what she wanted to do about it.
Not much of a maybe. Easier to think of that way.
"Would have been helpful to know that sooner," said Charlie dryly. "Thank you, Mina."
She didn't make to duck for cover. Strategically not the best, probably, but chances were after this length of time whoever had shot at Mina just wasn't there any more. Or alive.
She was really tired.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"Sir yes sir," Mina said, but without the dripping contempt she might have normally given the phrase. "And you're welcome."
Really, she'd weighed a few options for her response—"I told you when it became relevant," "I actually kind of forgot," "Why are we joking with each other?"—before picking something that felt safe. Or, no, it felt likely to avoid conflict or dampening the mood with Charlie. Any sort of camaraderie with the girl was the exact opposite of safety. Mina had had opportunities to spend the rest of her life with people she actually had things in common with like KeKe and Kass, and she'd thrown those away. She was, she told herself, just making sure not to rock the boat with Charlie, so they could continue unhindered with... whatever it was they were doing. Watching each other's backs. Teaming up. How had this happened?
Nobody shot Mina as she slowly slunk her way up to the door. She looked all around her, trying to trace where someone would open fire from. The street here was old, asphalt cracked, wide enough for two lanes of traffic but it'd be a close squeeze and no room to park. The sidewalks were narrow, the buildings close to each other, with tight alleys and gaps between them, just big enough to stow garbage bins in. The windows of most of the homes were small, shuttered and sometimes barred at ground level. Everything smelled like the sea, and nothing was moving. An ambush could come from anywhere at any moment; the hiding places were endless.
Mina pressed her back to the side of the building, reached her left hand out, and rapped on the door with her knuckles, quickly withdrawing her limb in case someone inside decided to let her know a private party was in progress with gunfire.
Time passed. No shots came. Mina found herself focusing uncomfortably on her own breathing, and looked at Charlie in an effort to distract herself. It worked, but too well. Charlie was very pale, even, Mina thought, by Charlie standards. This all just felt so wrong, seeing the girl in this context, being here with her in some foreign place, bound to die. After a second too long a gaze to feel comfortable, Mina pushed the door open quickly, looking inside.
She was faced with a narrow, dusty hallway displaying no signs of recent activity. To the right was a kitchen area, at the back a staircase, and to the left a pair of doors.
"Looks clear," Mina called back quietly, stepping carefully inside. She paid attention to how her feet disturbed the faint dust on the floor. Yeah, if someone had come this way before her, she was pretty sure it'd be obvious.
Really, she'd weighed a few options for her response—"I told you when it became relevant," "I actually kind of forgot," "Why are we joking with each other?"—before picking something that felt safe. Or, no, it felt likely to avoid conflict or dampening the mood with Charlie. Any sort of camaraderie with the girl was the exact opposite of safety. Mina had had opportunities to spend the rest of her life with people she actually had things in common with like KeKe and Kass, and she'd thrown those away. She was, she told herself, just making sure not to rock the boat with Charlie, so they could continue unhindered with... whatever it was they were doing. Watching each other's backs. Teaming up. How had this happened?
Nobody shot Mina as she slowly slunk her way up to the door. She looked all around her, trying to trace where someone would open fire from. The street here was old, asphalt cracked, wide enough for two lanes of traffic but it'd be a close squeeze and no room to park. The sidewalks were narrow, the buildings close to each other, with tight alleys and gaps between them, just big enough to stow garbage bins in. The windows of most of the homes were small, shuttered and sometimes barred at ground level. Everything smelled like the sea, and nothing was moving. An ambush could come from anywhere at any moment; the hiding places were endless.
Mina pressed her back to the side of the building, reached her left hand out, and rapped on the door with her knuckles, quickly withdrawing her limb in case someone inside decided to let her know a private party was in progress with gunfire.
Time passed. No shots came. Mina found herself focusing uncomfortably on her own breathing, and looked at Charlie in an effort to distract herself. It worked, but too well. Charlie was very pale, even, Mina thought, by Charlie standards. This all just felt so wrong, seeing the girl in this context, being here with her in some foreign place, bound to die. After a second too long a gaze to feel comfortable, Mina pushed the door open quickly, looking inside.
She was faced with a narrow, dusty hallway displaying no signs of recent activity. To the right was a kitchen area, at the back a staircase, and to the left a pair of doors.
"Looks clear," Mina called back quietly, stepping carefully inside. She paid attention to how her feet disturbed the faint dust on the floor. Yeah, if someone had come this way before her, she was pretty sure it'd be obvious.
In another time and another place, the sarcasm would have annoyed Charlie.
It was strange, looking at her own emotions, past emotions, with that kind of a detached veneer. She wanted to tell herself that little had changed since then, but the truth was that she was a different person. Was Mina? Perhaps.
When the sarcasm would have annoyed her, Charlie hadn't killed two people, hadn't been thrown into the Program, hadn't had everything shaken to pieces.
Hadn't had her life saved.
She still felt tired.
Mina was looking back at her after testing the door, and from the moment it took Charlie to actually notice, there must have been a longer moment before that when the gaze was on her. Charlie met Mina's eyes. Wondered what she was thinking. Regretting saving her? Regretting coming along with her? Regretting her life choices?
Probably not. As much as Charlie wanted to say that her own had been better, they were both on the executioner's block now.
Charlie nodded in reply.
A pause.
"A recorder seems like an odd piece of gear. This is all being broadcast already."
Charlie felt an absurd spike of self-consciousness at that, thinking of the blood, her own and others, that had splattered her, that was caking her clothing. She had to look like complete hell.
It was strange, looking at her own emotions, past emotions, with that kind of a detached veneer. She wanted to tell herself that little had changed since then, but the truth was that she was a different person. Was Mina? Perhaps.
When the sarcasm would have annoyed her, Charlie hadn't killed two people, hadn't been thrown into the Program, hadn't had everything shaken to pieces.
Hadn't had her life saved.
She still felt tired.
Mina was looking back at her after testing the door, and from the moment it took Charlie to actually notice, there must have been a longer moment before that when the gaze was on her. Charlie met Mina's eyes. Wondered what she was thinking. Regretting saving her? Regretting coming along with her? Regretting her life choices?
Probably not. As much as Charlie wanted to say that her own had been better, they were both on the executioner's block now.
Charlie nodded in reply.
A pause.
"A recorder seems like an odd piece of gear. This is all being broadcast already."
Charlie felt an absurd spike of self-consciousness at that, thinking of the blood, her own and others, that had splattered her, that was caking her clothing. She had to look like complete hell.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Victoria had been given a lot of time to think.
She had been angry at first. Angrier than she could ever remember being before, outraged to the point that she had given herself a splitting migraine for her first few hours in this dismal little village. She didn’t deserve to be here, unlike so, so many of her classmates. There were a handful of people in her school that deserved to live, to be spared by the General’s hand, and she was right at the very top of that list.
She had acted in a way that was incredibly unbecoming of her. She’d screamed. She’d thrown things. She’d come inches away from thrusting her heavy, ugly, ungainly weapon into one of the cameras; would have succeeded, too, if her aim had been any better. She’d been coasting her luck with her actions, oblivious in her rage of any potential anti-Americans who might have taken the opportunity to off her like the cowards they all were, because this situation was utterly, totally, bullshit.
At least, that was what Victoria had thought at first.
But then she had calmed down and found somewhere to rest once all of her energy had been spent, and she had started to think, and think rationally. There was no question in her mind that she had been the perfect patriot. She had done her best to lead by example at school, no matter how staunchly the unpatriotic members of her class, who all had their own petty and pathetic reasons for opposing her that she was sure they’d all love to lecture her on if she’d only given a damn about them. She had been kind and graceful to the rare few who deserved it, and a constant reminder to those who didn’t as to why exactly they should stay in line under the General’s rule.
So, this clearly wasn’t about punishing the unpatriotic.
The solution, therefore, was obvious. This wasn’t a punishment. This was merely a test. A way for them all to prove that they understood exactly what it meant to be an American citizen. No doubt half of her classmates had already failed that test, raging and yelling against the government like a pack of wild dogs.
Well, the Bellamys had always owned dogs. Victoria knew a thing or two about putting them down. If she had to get her hands dirty, so be it.
“If”, of course, was the key word. She had avoided everyone she had seen thus far. She had been nothing more than an onlooker for encounters and fights and departures, all between people she wouldn’t be seen dead talking to. It was the smart thing to do, after all, but even that had been too much for several of her classmates to handle apparently.
She had survived a full day now, and she didn’t doubt she’d survive plenty more to come. She’d tested holding the ridiculously named weapon she’d been assigned. Already, it felt a lot more natural in her hands. She had learned to balance the weight of it, and had managed to find a way to keep it folded and sandwiched between her back and her bag’s straps. She’d even got a handle on aiming the thing; the hole she’d left in some dead no-name’s bag was evidence of that.
Victoria turned her nose up as she wandered the streets between the houses in this new section of the town. Everything about this place was a far cry from home, but these buildings were more different than she could have ever imagined. It was disgusting, a rat’s nest of squalor and misery, boring and vile people living boring and vile lives. She could imagine drunks sprawled in the gutter, the raucous sound of families behind these flimsy walls, repair work piling up and up and up. She didn’t want to imagine the smell. It was bad enough already.
The sound of the announcements had covered up the tapping of her footprints along the streets, but as soon as they ended, she moved onto the front yards instead, overgrown patches of weeds and stinging nettles muffling the sound of her movement, keeping low, out of sight, and in the shadows. For a movement, there was only her own breathing as she walked.
Then another sound, the sound of human voices from a house nearby, and Victoria froze, listening intently to who they belonged to, ready to duck inside the closest alleyway, or turn tail and run, depending on who it was.
After a few more seconds, a grin spread across her face, and walked in the direction of the voices.
It took a few mere moments to reach the house, and her smile became even broader as she approached the figure standing just outside the front door.
“Charlie. Good to see you still alive and kicking. Not that I’m surprised, of course.”
Victoria shot a glance inside the house itself, and her lip curled upwards into a sneer.
“Mashall.”
She had been angry at first. Angrier than she could ever remember being before, outraged to the point that she had given herself a splitting migraine for her first few hours in this dismal little village. She didn’t deserve to be here, unlike so, so many of her classmates. There were a handful of people in her school that deserved to live, to be spared by the General’s hand, and she was right at the very top of that list.
She had acted in a way that was incredibly unbecoming of her. She’d screamed. She’d thrown things. She’d come inches away from thrusting her heavy, ugly, ungainly weapon into one of the cameras; would have succeeded, too, if her aim had been any better. She’d been coasting her luck with her actions, oblivious in her rage of any potential anti-Americans who might have taken the opportunity to off her like the cowards they all were, because this situation was utterly, totally, bullshit.
At least, that was what Victoria had thought at first.
But then she had calmed down and found somewhere to rest once all of her energy had been spent, and she had started to think, and think rationally. There was no question in her mind that she had been the perfect patriot. She had done her best to lead by example at school, no matter how staunchly the unpatriotic members of her class, who all had their own petty and pathetic reasons for opposing her that she was sure they’d all love to lecture her on if she’d only given a damn about them. She had been kind and graceful to the rare few who deserved it, and a constant reminder to those who didn’t as to why exactly they should stay in line under the General’s rule.
So, this clearly wasn’t about punishing the unpatriotic.
The solution, therefore, was obvious. This wasn’t a punishment. This was merely a test. A way for them all to prove that they understood exactly what it meant to be an American citizen. No doubt half of her classmates had already failed that test, raging and yelling against the government like a pack of wild dogs.
Well, the Bellamys had always owned dogs. Victoria knew a thing or two about putting them down. If she had to get her hands dirty, so be it.
“If”, of course, was the key word. She had avoided everyone she had seen thus far. She had been nothing more than an onlooker for encounters and fights and departures, all between people she wouldn’t be seen dead talking to. It was the smart thing to do, after all, but even that had been too much for several of her classmates to handle apparently.
She had survived a full day now, and she didn’t doubt she’d survive plenty more to come. She’d tested holding the ridiculously named weapon she’d been assigned. Already, it felt a lot more natural in her hands. She had learned to balance the weight of it, and had managed to find a way to keep it folded and sandwiched between her back and her bag’s straps. She’d even got a handle on aiming the thing; the hole she’d left in some dead no-name’s bag was evidence of that.
Victoria turned her nose up as she wandered the streets between the houses in this new section of the town. Everything about this place was a far cry from home, but these buildings were more different than she could have ever imagined. It was disgusting, a rat’s nest of squalor and misery, boring and vile people living boring and vile lives. She could imagine drunks sprawled in the gutter, the raucous sound of families behind these flimsy walls, repair work piling up and up and up. She didn’t want to imagine the smell. It was bad enough already.
The sound of the announcements had covered up the tapping of her footprints along the streets, but as soon as they ended, she moved onto the front yards instead, overgrown patches of weeds and stinging nettles muffling the sound of her movement, keeping low, out of sight, and in the shadows. For a movement, there was only her own breathing as she walked.
Then another sound, the sound of human voices from a house nearby, and Victoria froze, listening intently to who they belonged to, ready to duck inside the closest alleyway, or turn tail and run, depending on who it was.
After a few more seconds, a grin spread across her face, and walked in the direction of the voices.
It took a few mere moments to reach the house, and her smile became even broader as she approached the figure standing just outside the front door.
“Charlie. Good to see you still alive and kicking. Not that I’m surprised, of course.”
Victoria shot a glance inside the house itself, and her lip curled upwards into a sneer.
“Mashall.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"It can be useful," Mina said. "Let's me keep track of the announcements, or prove to someone I'm not lying. I mean, if I record the important stuff."
She didn't say it was also good for her mental health and morale because it let her have her stupid little posthumous diary. She didn't say she'd been talking to it on and off basically whenever she was alone, narrating what might well never be heard except by the government censors as they cut it apart and pieced it back together into something suitable for their propaganda. That personal benefit was probably not why it had been added to the weapon pool, in any event.
Charlie, Mina was realizing now that she was taking a moment to really consider the girl in the light of day, looked like absolute shit. She almost looked dead, and if Mina didn't know exactly what had happened the night before she'd've had some questions. As it was, she knew the score: Charlie had killed twice, and had almost perished herself.
Mina was about to say it was probably safe to go inside, when someone else made her way over towards them. Mina recognized Victoria Bellamy pretty quickly, and would've been exasperated by such an encounter back in the halls at school; in The Program she sort of wanted to just scream at the girl to go away and leave them alone. Why did she have to be encountering all the really extra patriotic sorts? But of course, that wasn't the whole truth, and Mina did have to keep that in mind; she'd met Marion and Kassandra and KeKe before anyone else, and had left them. It was only later that she'd come across Scott and Charlie and Victoria, and it felt wrong to lump Charlie in with the others.
Maybe she was being too quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe Victoria would also surprise.
Nope.
There it was, the perfectly civil greeting for Charlie chased by the contemptuous use of Mina's last name that so many of her classmates favored. Well, if Victoria was expecting Mina to take the high road then she hadn't been paying attention for the last four years.
"Hey," Mina said, bringing all that false sweetness she hadn't been using on Charlie back to bear, "Icky Vicky. How's it hanging?"
She didn't say it was also good for her mental health and morale because it let her have her stupid little posthumous diary. She didn't say she'd been talking to it on and off basically whenever she was alone, narrating what might well never be heard except by the government censors as they cut it apart and pieced it back together into something suitable for their propaganda. That personal benefit was probably not why it had been added to the weapon pool, in any event.
Charlie, Mina was realizing now that she was taking a moment to really consider the girl in the light of day, looked like absolute shit. She almost looked dead, and if Mina didn't know exactly what had happened the night before she'd've had some questions. As it was, she knew the score: Charlie had killed twice, and had almost perished herself.
Mina was about to say it was probably safe to go inside, when someone else made her way over towards them. Mina recognized Victoria Bellamy pretty quickly, and would've been exasperated by such an encounter back in the halls at school; in The Program she sort of wanted to just scream at the girl to go away and leave them alone. Why did she have to be encountering all the really extra patriotic sorts? But of course, that wasn't the whole truth, and Mina did have to keep that in mind; she'd met Marion and Kassandra and KeKe before anyone else, and had left them. It was only later that she'd come across Scott and Charlie and Victoria, and it felt wrong to lump Charlie in with the others.
Maybe she was being too quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe Victoria would also surprise.
Nope.
There it was, the perfectly civil greeting for Charlie chased by the contemptuous use of Mina's last name that so many of her classmates favored. Well, if Victoria was expecting Mina to take the high road then she hadn't been paying attention for the last four years.
"Hey," Mina said, bringing all that false sweetness she hadn't been using on Charlie back to bear, "Icky Vicky. How's it hanging?"
Charlie inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. Fair enough, although a potential hostile probably wasn't going to wait for Mina to stand there listening back to a half hour worth of recording to determine whether they were a threat. Even so, Charlie couldn't claim that some of the information from the announcements wasn't beginning to blur together, and she barely even had the energy to chastise herself for it. Inattentiveness to detail was unacceptable on the battlefield, and the announcements represented the best available form of intelligence about the situation.
Focus. She had to maintain her focus.
Not just because of the danger. Because Charlie was beginning to worry. About how her vision seemed to be getting a little grey around the edges. About how now and then she had to flex her hands and fingers to remind herself that she could feel them. About how it was taking a second or two at times to concentrate and muster her thoughts.
How much blood had she lost? The dry answer to how much she could afford to lose was perhaps three pints, give or take for body weight. That was assuming medical treatment and a probable transfusion. Actual treatment, not field surgery with a fucking hot knife.
Those thoughts were still drifting through her head when she heard someone approaching. Charlie twisted around, a hand reflexively gripping that same knife.
Victoria.
Charlie and her had orbited one another in school, the type of acquaintance you'd exchange a nod with in the corridor as you walked by.
The issue with her, really, was that she pretty much wrote off people who she didn't think were worth it. Do that, and you excluded all but the very top crust immediately, which was a complete waste.
Disregarding for a moment that somebody Charlie had dismissed as an aggravating good for nothing was the person who'd stuck by her all this time for no apparent gain.
"I'm managing," she said, guarded, not missing Victoria's coldness towards Mina, nor Mina's response.
After a fashion, it was reassuring to know that some things never changed.
Focus. She had to maintain her focus.
Not just because of the danger. Because Charlie was beginning to worry. About how her vision seemed to be getting a little grey around the edges. About how now and then she had to flex her hands and fingers to remind herself that she could feel them. About how it was taking a second or two at times to concentrate and muster her thoughts.
How much blood had she lost? The dry answer to how much she could afford to lose was perhaps three pints, give or take for body weight. That was assuming medical treatment and a probable transfusion. Actual treatment, not field surgery with a fucking hot knife.
Those thoughts were still drifting through her head when she heard someone approaching. Charlie twisted around, a hand reflexively gripping that same knife.
Victoria.
Charlie and her had orbited one another in school, the type of acquaintance you'd exchange a nod with in the corridor as you walked by.
The issue with her, really, was that she pretty much wrote off people who she didn't think were worth it. Do that, and you excluded all but the very top crust immediately, which was a complete waste.
Disregarding for a moment that somebody Charlie had dismissed as an aggravating good for nothing was the person who'd stuck by her all this time for no apparent gain.
"I'm managing," she said, guarded, not missing Victoria's coldness towards Mina, nor Mina's response.
After a fashion, it was reassuring to know that some things never changed.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Interesting. The dead girl was talking to her.
Victoria smirked at Mashall’s comment, shaking her head. The girl was trouble, through and through, a loudmouthed rulebreaker who didn’t seem to care one bit for any of the values or ideals that would help her become a halfway decent human being. Her little stunt as she had been escorted to the buses on Announcement Day exemplified everything wrong with her, and exactly why Victoria despised the girl with every fibre of her being.
Several people deserved to die out here. Mashall was one of them.
“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” Victoria replied to Mashall, not bothering to mask the contempt in her voice. “Better than you, as always.”
She looked away from Mashall, not wanting to spend more time on her than necessary, and up at Charlie. Now, this girl was someone who Victoria could respect. Maybe not fully admire; her attitude definitely needed work, and she had on occasion been just as unpleasant to their fellow patriots as she was to the traitors amongst them. But compared to the rest of the rabble at National Summit, Charlie was a beacon of patriotism, and Victoria was more than happy to throw her lot in with her.
This did, of course, beg the question of why exactly someone like Charlie was skulking around these rundown little hovels with someone like Mashall? After a moment or two of puzzling it out in her head, however, Victoria was pretty sure she had a good idea as to why, and she gave Charlie a charming smile.
“I’m glad to hear it, although a little bird tells me you’re doing more than that. It’s been good to hear your name on the right side of the announcements. Dyne, Xandora… there’s always been the stench of treachery around them, hasn’t there? Far too friendly with the un-Americans amongst us for my liking.
Victoria shot a quick glance at Mashall, sniffing, before looking back at Charlie.
“You know, I must say, it’s rather cruel of you to keep Mashall strung along like this. Surely it’s best to put the poor thing out of her misery now.”
Victoria smirked at Mashall’s comment, shaking her head. The girl was trouble, through and through, a loudmouthed rulebreaker who didn’t seem to care one bit for any of the values or ideals that would help her become a halfway decent human being. Her little stunt as she had been escorted to the buses on Announcement Day exemplified everything wrong with her, and exactly why Victoria despised the girl with every fibre of her being.
Several people deserved to die out here. Mashall was one of them.
“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” Victoria replied to Mashall, not bothering to mask the contempt in her voice. “Better than you, as always.”
She looked away from Mashall, not wanting to spend more time on her than necessary, and up at Charlie. Now, this girl was someone who Victoria could respect. Maybe not fully admire; her attitude definitely needed work, and she had on occasion been just as unpleasant to their fellow patriots as she was to the traitors amongst them. But compared to the rest of the rabble at National Summit, Charlie was a beacon of patriotism, and Victoria was more than happy to throw her lot in with her.
This did, of course, beg the question of why exactly someone like Charlie was skulking around these rundown little hovels with someone like Mashall? After a moment or two of puzzling it out in her head, however, Victoria was pretty sure she had a good idea as to why, and she gave Charlie a charming smile.
“I’m glad to hear it, although a little bird tells me you’re doing more than that. It’s been good to hear your name on the right side of the announcements. Dyne, Xandora… there’s always been the stench of treachery around them, hasn’t there? Far too friendly with the un-Americans amongst us for my liking.
Victoria shot a quick glance at Mashall, sniffing, before looking back at Charlie.
“You know, I must say, it’s rather cruel of you to keep Mashall strung along like this. Surely it’s best to put the poor thing out of her misery now.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Mina snorted. Yeah, now was the time for disdain.
There was this very particular stance that was popular among the more doggedly patriotic of her classmates, and it would've driven Mina to distraction if she hadn't understood it. They talked like caricatures from propaganda reels, busily fellating themselves and each other about just how much more they loved America than everyone else, and how everyone else was therefore below them. Mina's father had precious little patience for that sort of behavior.
"There are two main reasons to constantly remind everyone of how loyal you are," Peter Mashall had told her, when she'd complained about how one of her fifth grade classmates only ever wanted to talk about America being great and wouldn't even consider playing games that didn't in some way revolve around that fact. "The first is that they're fools. They don't understand what they're talking about, and they follow others blindly or take everything at face value. That's probably true of most of your classmates. You're still young."
Mina wasn't quite sure what to make of that.
"What's the other reason?" she asked.
Her father smiled.
"They're liars," he said. "They're in it for themselves, and they've figured out that The General's name can open doors for them. They pretend to be good patriots, but if the opportunity arose, they'd be the first to sell their country out."
Mina considered this. They were sitting side by side on her bed, and she shifted back and forth, even her slight weight making the springs groan. Her father sat very still, but she knew that sometimes, when he didn't think anyone was watching, he'd fidget, examining his fingers with great intent.
"Why does The General put up with that?" she asked, finally.
"Every tool has a use," her father explained. "These people, they still do their jobs. Their self-interest and ambition will let them perform quite well, in certain capacities. They'll be allowed to think that nobody can see beyond the mask, and most people won't be able to. But, in the end, they'll never reach the highest echelons, never find a position in which their failings would allow them to do harm."
Mina nodded. "I think I get it."
But she didn't, not when she was in fifth grade, not in middle school, not until she and her father no longer spoke. Once she realized that it was all fake, once she pulled back the curtain, it became obvious. Exposed to the light of day, the cockroaches scattered. The loudest were always the phoniest, using the guise of the true believer to stroke their own egos and abuse easy victims. Of course, there were still fools—poor, simple Bridie came to mind—but Mina thought that the fakers were more common now. And Victoria was transparent as a freshly-cleaned window.
Mina's hand had been reaching, almost of its own accord, and she realized that it was making not for the sensible option (the hook) but instead was slipping between the buttons of her shirt, prying fingers flicking her recorder on. That was probably for the best, really. She wasn't looking to fight unless she had to, and she didn't think Victoria had the guts to press the issue.
"Come on," she said to the girl, letting her exasperation out. Victoria was also a fool, she decided, just for different reasons. "Give me a little credit. You're as bad as Whitman."
There was this very particular stance that was popular among the more doggedly patriotic of her classmates, and it would've driven Mina to distraction if she hadn't understood it. They talked like caricatures from propaganda reels, busily fellating themselves and each other about just how much more they loved America than everyone else, and how everyone else was therefore below them. Mina's father had precious little patience for that sort of behavior.
"There are two main reasons to constantly remind everyone of how loyal you are," Peter Mashall had told her, when she'd complained about how one of her fifth grade classmates only ever wanted to talk about America being great and wouldn't even consider playing games that didn't in some way revolve around that fact. "The first is that they're fools. They don't understand what they're talking about, and they follow others blindly or take everything at face value. That's probably true of most of your classmates. You're still young."
Mina wasn't quite sure what to make of that.
"What's the other reason?" she asked.
Her father smiled.
"They're liars," he said. "They're in it for themselves, and they've figured out that The General's name can open doors for them. They pretend to be good patriots, but if the opportunity arose, they'd be the first to sell their country out."
Mina considered this. They were sitting side by side on her bed, and she shifted back and forth, even her slight weight making the springs groan. Her father sat very still, but she knew that sometimes, when he didn't think anyone was watching, he'd fidget, examining his fingers with great intent.
"Why does The General put up with that?" she asked, finally.
"Every tool has a use," her father explained. "These people, they still do their jobs. Their self-interest and ambition will let them perform quite well, in certain capacities. They'll be allowed to think that nobody can see beyond the mask, and most people won't be able to. But, in the end, they'll never reach the highest echelons, never find a position in which their failings would allow them to do harm."
Mina nodded. "I think I get it."
But she didn't, not when she was in fifth grade, not in middle school, not until she and her father no longer spoke. Once she realized that it was all fake, once she pulled back the curtain, it became obvious. Exposed to the light of day, the cockroaches scattered. The loudest were always the phoniest, using the guise of the true believer to stroke their own egos and abuse easy victims. Of course, there were still fools—poor, simple Bridie came to mind—but Mina thought that the fakers were more common now. And Victoria was transparent as a freshly-cleaned window.
Mina's hand had been reaching, almost of its own accord, and she realized that it was making not for the sensible option (the hook) but instead was slipping between the buttons of her shirt, prying fingers flicking her recorder on. That was probably for the best, really. She wasn't looking to fight unless she had to, and she didn't think Victoria had the guts to press the issue.
"Come on," she said to the girl, letting her exasperation out. Victoria was also a fool, she decided, just for different reasons. "Give me a little credit. You're as bad as Whitman."
Charlie clenched her jaw. Exhaled. Was she mad, or was she just struggling, ailing?
She felt queasy on top of tired.
Couldn't tell whether it was Victoria in general, another surge of discomfiture from her ailing body, or the change in circumstances. Another potential threat. And, if she was being honest with herself, a new and... frightening test of her alliance—partnership?—with Mina.
Charlie thought about choking Dyne to death and stabbing Faye until she wasn't moving any longer.
Treachery?
They were all doing as they were told. The fucked up, senseless things that they were told. What made Dyne, the one who liked to snark off in the corner in history, Faye, the socialiser and the friendly face, any less patriotic, any less worthwhile than the rest of them?
Because they were dead, and Charlie was alive?
"She's proved her worth so far," Charlie's voice sounded clipped and clinical to her own ears. False.
She realised, after a moment, that it was the way that she talked when delivering reports in the cadets.
Maybe she could use that.
"It's poor strategy to discard an asset."
Charlie was facing Victoria. She couldn't see behind Charlie's back, Mina could.
The index and middle fingers of Charlie's right hand, tucked against her hip, crossed over one another, back and forth, back and forth.
She felt queasy on top of tired.
Couldn't tell whether it was Victoria in general, another surge of discomfiture from her ailing body, or the change in circumstances. Another potential threat. And, if she was being honest with herself, a new and... frightening test of her alliance—partnership?—with Mina.
Charlie thought about choking Dyne to death and stabbing Faye until she wasn't moving any longer.
Treachery?
They were all doing as they were told. The fucked up, senseless things that they were told. What made Dyne, the one who liked to snark off in the corner in history, Faye, the socialiser and the friendly face, any less patriotic, any less worthwhile than the rest of them?
Because they were dead, and Charlie was alive?
"She's proved her worth so far," Charlie's voice sounded clipped and clinical to her own ears. False.
She realised, after a moment, that it was the way that she talked when delivering reports in the cadets.
Maybe she could use that.
"It's poor strategy to discard an asset."
Charlie was facing Victoria. She couldn't see behind Charlie's back, Mina could.
The index and middle fingers of Charlie's right hand, tucked against her hip, crossed over one another, back and forth, back and forth.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
She was talking again. Victoria had learned long ago how to block out the braying of Mashall and her ilk, but that didn’t prevent it from being infuriating merely by its existence. She couldn’t understand how someone could constantly be so brazenly defiant even when it was so obvious they were in the wrong, and yet Mashall and everyone like her did it as if it were second nature.
But, again, the words of a dead girl held little importance to Victoria, so she waved her hand dismissively at Mashall, focusing all her attention on Charlie instead.
“Hmmm…”
Well, that was interesting. An asset, huh? The logic was sound, Victoria couldn’t fault Charlie there. If you get handed the tools you need to succeed, you work with them. It was simple, it was smart, and it was the only reason Victoria could see as to why Mashall wasn’t face down with a knife in her back.
But what did you do with tools when they became obsolete and unnecessary? You replaced them and threw them into the garbage.
“I see your point. The General would expect us to use whatever means necessary to succeed, after all. But… an ally is a much greater boon than an asset, wouldn’t you say?”
Victoria put on her most charming smile again, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“Let me put this bluntly; I can do everything you’re using Mashall for and so much more. We can help each other out, we can survive, we can make it to the very end if we play our cards smartly. After all, who deserves to win? Someone who wants to prove they’re a true patriot? Or a traitor like Mashall?”
Victoria’s brow furrowed and her smile grew harsh and sharp.
“Let me dispose of her myself.”
But, again, the words of a dead girl held little importance to Victoria, so she waved her hand dismissively at Mashall, focusing all her attention on Charlie instead.
“Hmmm…”
Well, that was interesting. An asset, huh? The logic was sound, Victoria couldn’t fault Charlie there. If you get handed the tools you need to succeed, you work with them. It was simple, it was smart, and it was the only reason Victoria could see as to why Mashall wasn’t face down with a knife in her back.
But what did you do with tools when they became obsolete and unnecessary? You replaced them and threw them into the garbage.
“I see your point. The General would expect us to use whatever means necessary to succeed, after all. But… an ally is a much greater boon than an asset, wouldn’t you say?”
Victoria put on her most charming smile again, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“Let me put this bluntly; I can do everything you’re using Mashall for and so much more. We can help each other out, we can survive, we can make it to the very end if we play our cards smartly. After all, who deserves to win? Someone who wants to prove they’re a true patriot? Or a traitor like Mashall?”
Victoria’s brow furrowed and her smile grew harsh and sharp.
“Let me dispose of her myself.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Mina waited, watched, listened. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but that was a lost cause. Alright. Settle for a sneer. She was reassessing Victoria and had decided that the girl was actually dumber than Bridie. That was a pretty impressive status to achieve, but Mina had realized long ago that the stupidest people tended to believe themselves to be intelligent. Such was the case with Victoria.
Mina didn't much go in for being talked about like she wasn't here. If she'd been properly equipped, she could've pulled out a pistol and blown the stupid girl's faulty brains all across the lawn. That was the danger of ignoring people; you never really knew what they'd get up to. Mina knew better than that. She had her attention fixed on the immediate threat, but she wasn't about to forget that Charlie was also in the picture.
Victoria had also tipped her hand, offering valuable intelligence that would give Mina plenty of room to try to swing this back into her favor. She'd insinuated, first and foremost, that she thought Charlie was dead meat; the possible winners she laid out were an unidentified patriot and Mina. That was a mistake. She'd shown that she saw others as tools, and had offered a future in which Charlie was just a particularly favored one. If this was a debate, Mina would spin that back around and ruin her, but that would be getting drawn into an engagement on Victoria's turf, and that didn't seem smart.
The girl had also suggested that she might attack Mina personally. Were she serious about it, she should've just done it. As it was, Mina was drawing maps in her head, taking into account what she had (here her unencumbered state would be an advantage; Victoria would have to fret about or discard her belongings while Mina was unhindered) and where she was and what she could surmise. Victoria's weapon would give the girl a huge advantage at a distance, but mean nothing up close. Mina was standing in the hall, which meant there would be little room to swing the polearm; so long as she could avoid being skewered in the first rush and slip past the point, Mina would have the upper hand. She could pick the battlefield, since she wasn't about to come out to fight Victoria. This was elementary and she felt an absurd surge of irritation that the other girl didn't get that. Being underestimated almost burned worse than being threatened.
And all the while, Mina made sure to keep Charlie in her peripheral gaze, watching the anxious movement of the girl's fingers. A knife would change the equation quite a bit, present a very real threat up close and personal and far outclass Mina's hook and her loose experience brawling. How far could trust hold? Charlie wouldn't be fast. She had a weak point, a big one, but even briefly thinking like that made Mina feel sick. How could she imagine reopening the wound in Charlie's side that she'd poured so much into sealing?
No, if Charlie turned on her, she decided, she would flee. But better to avoid the possibility. Victoria was a coward and a fool. Better to expose that and put this whole charade to rest peacefully. She didn't think the girl would carry through on her threat. It was posturing, nothing more.
"It's bad tactics to take unnecessary risks," Mina settled for saying, blandly. She could feel her heartbeat. "There's not much future in an ally eager to get herself killed."
Mina didn't much go in for being talked about like she wasn't here. If she'd been properly equipped, she could've pulled out a pistol and blown the stupid girl's faulty brains all across the lawn. That was the danger of ignoring people; you never really knew what they'd get up to. Mina knew better than that. She had her attention fixed on the immediate threat, but she wasn't about to forget that Charlie was also in the picture.
Victoria had also tipped her hand, offering valuable intelligence that would give Mina plenty of room to try to swing this back into her favor. She'd insinuated, first and foremost, that she thought Charlie was dead meat; the possible winners she laid out were an unidentified patriot and Mina. That was a mistake. She'd shown that she saw others as tools, and had offered a future in which Charlie was just a particularly favored one. If this was a debate, Mina would spin that back around and ruin her, but that would be getting drawn into an engagement on Victoria's turf, and that didn't seem smart.
The girl had also suggested that she might attack Mina personally. Were she serious about it, she should've just done it. As it was, Mina was drawing maps in her head, taking into account what she had (here her unencumbered state would be an advantage; Victoria would have to fret about or discard her belongings while Mina was unhindered) and where she was and what she could surmise. Victoria's weapon would give the girl a huge advantage at a distance, but mean nothing up close. Mina was standing in the hall, which meant there would be little room to swing the polearm; so long as she could avoid being skewered in the first rush and slip past the point, Mina would have the upper hand. She could pick the battlefield, since she wasn't about to come out to fight Victoria. This was elementary and she felt an absurd surge of irritation that the other girl didn't get that. Being underestimated almost burned worse than being threatened.
And all the while, Mina made sure to keep Charlie in her peripheral gaze, watching the anxious movement of the girl's fingers. A knife would change the equation quite a bit, present a very real threat up close and personal and far outclass Mina's hook and her loose experience brawling. How far could trust hold? Charlie wouldn't be fast. She had a weak point, a big one, but even briefly thinking like that made Mina feel sick. How could she imagine reopening the wound in Charlie's side that she'd poured so much into sealing?
No, if Charlie turned on her, she decided, she would flee. But better to avoid the possibility. Victoria was a coward and a fool. Better to expose that and put this whole charade to rest peacefully. She didn't think the girl would carry through on her threat. It was posturing, nothing more.
"It's bad tactics to take unnecessary risks," Mina settled for saying, blandly. She could feel her heartbeat. "There's not much future in an ally eager to get herself killed."
Charlie felt distant and detached from herself, for a moment.
There was her, here, and her, then.
Her back home. Her before this.
"Could we talk in private?" she asked Victoria.
Her mouth was dry.
There was her, here, and her, then.
Her back home. Her before this.
"Could we talk in private?" she asked Victoria.
Her mouth was dry.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
“And there’s no future at all in a traitor who’ll never become anything more than a penniless skank in the gutter.”
Victoria spat the words out, glaring directly at Mashall as she did so, temper flaring. She’d had enough of this ignorant brat. She knew nothing of politics, nothing of being a decent American citizen, nothing of even being a decent person, but she sure was good at pissing off her superiors.
She exhaled, shaking her head, forcing herself to calm down as she looked back at Charlie. Hopefully that little display of anger wouldn’t change the girl’s mind about wanting to team up with her. Fortunately, it looked like she still wanted to talk in private, so Victoria put on her charming little smile again, brushing some imaginary dust off of the sleeves of her sweater.
“Of course,” she said, stepping away from the entrance of the building, waiting for Charlie to follow, hands neatly clasped in front of her. She imagined what she looked like on the cameras that no doubt captured her every angle. The very model of an American patriot, she hoped. Not a hair out of place, a perfect smile on her lips, ready to do whatever the General wished of her. She lowered her voice as Charlie approached.
“Is this about Mashall? Because I can assure you, she’ll be more trouble than it’s worth to keep alive, no matter how great an asset she may be.”
Victoria spat the words out, glaring directly at Mashall as she did so, temper flaring. She’d had enough of this ignorant brat. She knew nothing of politics, nothing of being a decent American citizen, nothing of even being a decent person, but she sure was good at pissing off her superiors.
She exhaled, shaking her head, forcing herself to calm down as she looked back at Charlie. Hopefully that little display of anger wouldn’t change the girl’s mind about wanting to team up with her. Fortunately, it looked like she still wanted to talk in private, so Victoria put on her charming little smile again, brushing some imaginary dust off of the sleeves of her sweater.
“Of course,” she said, stepping away from the entrance of the building, waiting for Charlie to follow, hands neatly clasped in front of her. She imagined what she looked like on the cameras that no doubt captured her every angle. The very model of an American patriot, she hoped. Not a hair out of place, a perfect smile on her lips, ready to do whatever the General wished of her. She lowered her voice as Charlie approached.
“Is this about Mashall? Because I can assure you, she’ll be more trouble than it’s worth to keep alive, no matter how great an asset she may be.”
Strange how the better part of two days didn't make much of a difference to some people. What had Victoria gone through since her name was called out back at school? What kind of story did she have from the Program?
Charlie doubted it was much like hers, but she didn’t feel any sense of superiority or righteousness over that. Killing twice didn’t give her some kind of magical perspective on the world, it just made her a murderer.
Charlie stepped off to the side with Victoria and took a steadying breath. When Victoria asked her question, Charlie responded with a nod.
“So, what are you proposing?”
Her knife was in her hand, held taut at her side. Standing close enough to Victoria that it wasn't in view without her inclining her head downward.
Charlie doubted it was much like hers, but she didn’t feel any sense of superiority or righteousness over that. Killing twice didn’t give her some kind of magical perspective on the world, it just made her a murderer.
Charlie stepped off to the side with Victoria and took a steadying breath. When Victoria asked her question, Charlie responded with a nod.
“So, what are you proposing?”
Her knife was in her hand, held taut at her side. Standing close enough to Victoria that it wasn't in view without her inclining her head downward.