Mind The Music And The Step

[Cicadan]

She'd seen the whole thing from a distance.

Bridie didn't know what to think. That was essentially what death was, right? An explosion of dull color fragments and blood- and blood kind of weirdly looked like little flecks and ripples of, say, cherry Kool Aid- and then the crumpling of the body that could somehow be heard super realistically in the brain even if it was way out of hearing range. And a bullet, that's what a bullet could do to people flesh. Obviously Bridie had never seen how shooting a person all played out, because it wasn't like she'd shoot anybody? She liked shooting things, certainly, but not so much other people with faces and brains and such...

That was also part of her duty now, wasn't it? Doing that whole thing with... his (Matt's?) face turning into a play-by-play meat grinder, but to other people and with her own gun...

It was Bridie's duty. Absolutely, positively, she had to do it. She'd watched Program before. She knew, at least she thought she did, how this was all supposed to be. What the job of a good citizen was. Kill or be killed, for glory. And, a few patriotic quotables delivered along the way. Bridie was drawing up a good-size blank on those.

Bridie let her strange thoughts fester, then ignored them. She focused on the paper held reverently in two of her hands. She figured those in charge of Program had left her with this official-like document (The Declaration of Independence? It had a really big fancy font DECLARATION on it, so that made sense.) to memorize it. Part of civic duty, or what not, which Bridie hadn't gotten around to yet because she hadn't quite qualified for a proper civics class. Right! While the 'glorious fighting' part of Program was not yet a thing perhaps now was the time for Bridie to brush up on other matters of country and citizenship.

Life...
Liberty...
Pursuit of...

She was seated gingerly to avoid the rougher rocks, her legs were dangling over the sea. Beside her sat her bag, lying flatly open. In the distance, seagulls from the rock cawed and pecked at flecks of blood that had been splattered over their nests, but Bridie was too engrossed to pay such things mind. Busy busy!

[Polybius]

Zeke Brant didn't have a game plan. He did have a few ideas rolling around in his head, but nothing concrete yet. There were only two things that he knew he had to do. First, he had to find his friends. He had thought some shameful things about them before his name was called, things he regretted upon reflection. They were the most important people to him aside from his family. He had made them a promise, and even if he hadn't been serious about it at the time, he intended to fulfill it.

As for the second thing he had to do...

Zeke gripped the revolver in his hand. It was a little bit old-fashioned for his taste, but it was a fine draw. It would work.

He walked along the shore for a while before finding his first person. A short girl was sitting at the edge of the cliff, reading a paper with the word "Declaration" written in big letter at the top. The Declaration of Independence? Weird. It was a magnificent document, but there was a time and and a place for studying the words of Jefferson.

Zeke recognized that form, though. And those curls. It was Bridie. She was one of the better people for him to run into first. Still, he didn't feel great about it. Zeke sighed and walked up to her.

"Heya, Bridie." Zeke gave her a lazy smirk. "Doing some light reading?"

A bead of sweat ran down his neck.

[Cicadan]

That voice sounded familiar! Like, 'cute boy' type familiar, though Bridie couldn't be too sure because voices tended to be especially hard to tell apart and once she'd mistaken two boys for one another and annoyed Clay in the process, wrong cheek kissed and all that.

"Yep!" Bridie fell silent for a second, stubbornly completing her last sentence. The suspense might have killed her, otherwise!

'it is the Right of the People to alter or to... abolish it, and to institute- institute?- new Government, laying its' WOW there were so many commas. She remembered that the comma wasn't, like, the end of the sentence but just the end of the idea in the sentence. So technically she wasn't done with the sentence yet but it was such a long sentence! And she was being rude by ignoring Mister Voice Off To The Side. She fussed over the paper, neatly folding it in half.

So, a good few seconds after Zeke had spoke, Bridie finally turned to properly acknowledge him.

Oh hey, it was Zeke! Bridie couldn't help the smile that spread over her face like fluffy marshmallow paste, she couldn't help the coy bounce of her curls to one side as she cocked her head slightly. Zeke... a girl was allowed to crush on multiple boys at once! Yep. That's how feminism worked, right? Bridie wasn't sure but she'd garnered 'women's right to choose' and she figured that included choosing cute boys, totally, it just made sense. Besides. She loved the way he smiled like that. It was so... cool. Badass.

"Whoops!" She quickly stood up, and felt a few tiny bits of rock crumble away under her heels. Adrenaline distracted her. She glanced down at the apparently crumble-y cliff side, stunned for a moment. Then, back to Zeke. With a good few steps away from the cliff as well, a self-satisfied nod as she got her 'don't fall off a cliff' affairs in order. "Hey Zeke!" Her voice a bit lighter, airier, as it usually was  when she was around a cute face. She held her hands in front of her. Two reasons (neither of which she was one hundred percent consciously cognizant of): it made her look a bit cuter, and it also showed off her lack of being armed (in the context of The Program, which was totally still a thing. Wait. Was it a good idea to be showing off that she had no weapon, even to a friendly face?).

"I bet you know this full thing front to back!" A giggle. "I'd ask you to help me but I bet you have..." Bridie's brain galloped a bit, race-horse behind the dangling carrot that was her running mouth. That's right. She'd also seen Zeke's weird friends get taken. "... like, more important things to do. I'm sorry about your friends."

[Polybius]

Bridie's reaction was pretty much what he expected. Zeke liked Bridie, but was certainly an odd one. There was something going on with her brain. Zeke didn't know what it was, but he knew she took special ed classes. Still, she had a good heart and good values. She was always happy to talk to Zeke. Well, she was always happy to talk to anyone, but in Zeke's case she clearly had a crush on him. It wasn't an avenue he'd care to pursue, but he supposed she was pretty cute in a puppy-like way. Honest, affectionate, energetic. Trusting

When she stood up, Zeke saw that she didn't have anything in her hands. That must have meant that the copy of the Declaration of Independence was her weapon. She was an easy target, then. Zeke doubted that she would make it to the first announcement no matter what he did.

When Bridie stopped talking, Zeke let her words hang in the air for a few seconds. He could hear his own heartbeat.

"Thanks for her concern, Bridie," he finally said "I'm trying to find them. Have you seen any of them around?"

He took a few steps closer. His Peacemaker still hung by his side, and his thumb hovered over the hammer. He just needed a few more moments to ready himself.

[Cicadan]

Silence always, like, reminded Bridie of those particular moments in time where she had to respond to someone but couldn't actually figure out what to say, but usually she would just say whatever came to mind anyways. Other people tended to let the silence drag on, and then it could feel kind of uncomfortable. As if Bridie were missing something important, which happened all the time supposedly.

Bridie stepped forward a bit as well. It was important to respect personal space but they were still a good arm's length apart. She could trace ambient reflections in his eyes, stray beams of sun that glossily bounced off the eyeball instead of going right in.

She did exactly that for a second too long, the silence longer still.

"Oh,' she murmured. "I don't think I have." She struggled to recall the boy she'd seen shooting himself and thus dying. The face had not been a face she'd recognized as associated with Zeke. Because, it was often the case that she had to actively strain to remember which people were associated with other people, she'd sometimes study the yearbook by herself, pointing at this picture, and then that picture, 'these two both share a cooking class with me', only obviously in Zeke's case that particular example was not true but she'd also done that for his group of skater friends... Uh, Mick... Reese... So on...

"... I did see someone shoot themselves but I'm pretty sure they weren't your friend," Bridie finished with a satisfied nod. She was getting distracted again. She forced herself to focus, her eyes evaluating... Ah, Zeke had a gun! She stared at it intently. Colt Single Action, awesomely Americana model, beautifully natural grip, weighty kickback... Tricky to load, obviously, but the smooth spin on the barrel meant that with some practice-

[Polybius]

There was another beat of silence after Zeke's question. It gave Zeke a chance to second guess himself. There wouldn't be any concrete benefit from this. She wasn't a threat. He wouldn't get another weapon. The announcement would put a target on his back.

It didn't matter. Zeke couldn't get cold feet here. He had to prove that he could do it. That he had the guts to do whatever he had to do to win. He needed to set himself on the right path quickly, and quash any pesky feelings of doubt or cowardice.

Bridie finally spoke, and she dropped quite the bomb when she did. She had seen someone shoot themselves? Zeke had a lot of questions, but he tried to put them out of his mind. This was the crucial moment, he couldn't get distracted. She said it wasn't one of his friends, anyway, so it didn't matter.

Bridie stopped talking and started staring at his gun. For a moment, Zeke panicked. She had realized what he was planning. He had hesitated for too long. But a few seconds passed, and she just kept staring.

This was it. He had to do it now.

"Ah," Zeke said, raising the revolver and gripping it with both hands. "Are you interested in this, Bridie?"

He pulled back the hammer and pressed the trigger.

[Cicadan]

- the meaty gears could be easily manipulated with thumb and forefinger- Zeke raised the gun- and really it was the viscerally mechanical old-timey feeling of loading the gun- he raised it more-

Bridie instinctively recognized the sound that followed Zeke pulling the trigger.

Hot iron, molten, pressed into her scalp, something like a headache, but somehow- no, she didn't know, she didn't

and she was tumbling backwards, momentum carrying her, she was too shocked to even scream as blood began to swim down into her eyes.

Rock gave out under her, she reached the cliff. Sailed straight over it. Not even a second later a loud splash sounded her hitting the deep waters below. No sign of her body, save a small plume of red pooling on the surface of the otherwise dark ocean blue.

[Polybius]

It all happened so quickly. The crack of the gunshot. The smoke. A flash of red. Bridie disappearing from view. A splash. Then, quiet.

Zeke ran towards the edge and scanned the water's surface. He couldn't see Bridie, or her body. Just a pool of blood spreading through the ocean. He waited. Still, nothing.

He'd done it. Bridie was dead. He'd killed her.

All of the tension that had built up in Zeke's body was released at once. A stupid grin broke out across his face. He couldn't help it. This was his first test, and he had passed with flying colors. It had been so easy, too. It was ridiculous to think that he'd been so nervous about it just a few moments earlier. He paced back and forth. He hollered at the sea. He punched the air. Zeke let himself have a little moment of celebration to get the pent-up energy out of his system.

He was far away from an actual victory, of course, so Zeke soon got back to work. Bridie had left her bag on the cliff, with everything still inside it. well, everything aside from the Declaration, which she took with her into the ocean. That was a real shame. Zeke took as much as he could comfortably fit into his own bag: some rations, batteries, and medical supplies. When he had what he could carry, he kicked Bridie's bag into the water. There was no use leaving that stuff lying around for someone else to take. Zeke turned to leave, but not before taking one last glance at the red spot in the ocean.

"You were a good kid, Bridie, but you just weren't built for this ordeal." He gave a smirk and a wave and set off.

Zeke was different. He was sure of it now, this was his game to win. Now he just needed to find his team.

((Zeke Brant continued in Junk Dreams))

[Cicadan]

It had only grazed her forehead. Split her scalp open into a nasty weeping red gash, fire ant stinging because of seawater, and likely also because it was an open wound on her head. But she was alive. In shock, but alive.

She surfaced a ways down the coast, carried away from the blood she'd polluted the sea with by a gentle but firm underwater current. She tumbled along until it dissipated and she could erupt to the surface. Kinda like a whale or a dolphin, she imagined, breaching for air (but she stayed up there and didn't dive back down, unlike a whale or dolphin, because oxygen happened to be absolutely crucial. It was biology, or however that worked). Her breathing was rather steady considering she'd been half-drowning for a good half-minute. A lot of things failed to immediately register as she stoically tread water.

... The Declaration of Independence was ruined. Already crumbling away into spools of mushy paper between her clenched fingers.

She'd failed... No, no, she'd failed! No honest, true patriot would have let such vital documents generously gifted to them by the government be ruined like that! Bridie began to bitterly sob. A fist came up to her eyes, reddening them all the more by scrubbing her tears away with knuckles of sea brine.

---

Things happened.

Bridie's short term memory became a whirlwind of sensations and quick, decisively incompetent plans. The thought was 'I need to dry or else I'll catch something' so she'd stripped to her underwear and laid her dress and shirt and stuff over beach rocks to sunbathe. Only, then, she'd realized she was kind of REALLY exposed, then she'd gotten anxious about it for a bit, but she'd already messed up anyways. It was okay to mess up more.

---

She'd lost her supplies.

Oh no.

But no, it was okay! She was sure she'd be fine, and she felt better already. She'd bandaged her wound though it probably made her hair look kind of stupid, at least when there were bulky strips of gauze wrapped around her entire face, making her look she couldn't even guess. Bald or like a doll or something like that, though she couldn't quite envision the effect even as she clearly felt it all over her skin with the bandage being, like, right there and all. And also, besides that part. Her naked skin was warming nicely in the growing late morning sun. It was kind of nice to walk around without too many clothes on, it was cozy! Why did people care so much about that kind of thing again? Bridie had never really asked herself that particular question.

The nuances of social aversion to immodesty, for now, evaded her.

---

Hauling, dredging breaths through her stitched up lungs. Water stung every time it smacked into her arms.

Okay, a butterfly stroke like Coach had taught them was legs smooth, arms big motions. Bridie had had trouble with making the arm motions 'nice and big and scooping', as Coach put it when he'd barked orders at her, and Bridie had always done her best to learn the hardest form in swimming class. It was really exhausting but she pumped her shoulders massively with each roll of her body, she cut through the water, gliding with a certain finesse.

Ouch, ouch, this hurt, ouch.

---

She needed a while to rest.

She sat on the rock she'd seen the boy from earlier die and fall off of, and as she remembered that she remembered that, yes, he had died. She could see from her inferior position at the base of the rock that blood had dribbled in now dry-ish, rust-colored splatters over the rock. It was like smears of paint. Birds were cawing loudly, like 'CAW CAW CRRAAW' and Bridie let the noise echo in her brain chamber. It seemed like it was coming from everywhere at once.

No, wait. It was coming from everywhere at once. Duh.

Some time passed and Bridie eventually found what she was looking for.

---

Boy who'd died (Matt? Bridie continued to draw a blank on that one, but she wasn't exactly trying too hard to remember, much as the incongruity niggled and nagged at her still overeager brain) had left absolutely no ammo. Well, she'd actually seen him getting rid of all of it, but she'd dumbly hoped he'd have missed an ammo clip or two. But no, she knew her ammunition counts, and so did he apparently. It was his last legacy to her. An unspoken conversation where a guy whose name she forgot kinda mocked her from the grave by denying her a perfectly good loaded gun. She didn't blame him, though she didn't exactly understand his actions either.

Obviously, the conversation went nowhere because it wasn't real (a metaphor) and the other person was dead anyways. He couldn't ever talk ever again.





Weird.

Death was weird. She still didn't get it.

Bridie sat on one rock, her butt uncomfortably warm, but she wanted to avoid all the sand of the small beach she'd taken shelter on because she knew from experience that she hated sand, that it was rough and coarse and irritating. And, it got everywhere! If you let it, but fortunately, Bridie was slightly smarter than that. She was still down to underwear only, and fortunately she'd not worn white today or that would have been more embarrassing than she could have handled, and anyways her clothes just needed another hour maybe to dry. Though obviously she couldn't predict that.

She rifled through the salvaged bag of the dead guy. She'd put it next to her, and was sorting the supplies. Without a plan in mind for how to sort them, but it made her feel like she was accomplishing something if she at least made arranging and organizing-like motions, and she liked that feeling. It kept her busy, and kept her mind off all the unsettling thoughts, like 'I still can't believe I ruined the Declaration of Independence' and 'I hate Zeke now but to be fair he did do what he was supposed to be doing' and 'if I die doesn't that mean I'll no longer be serving America as a hot blooded patriot (hot blooded being a metaphor, of course)? Like, blood stops being warm when you die, right?'

[Bowser]

(Bishop Smith Continued from América rompió mi corazón)

"C-come Rodney, w-where are you..." Bishop muttered to himself as he made his way down the beach.

It had been roughly an hour since Bishop had run away from their mysterious assailant, and since then he hadn't seen any clue as to where Rodney could be. The last he had seen of him was at the road at the edge of town, and that was before the second burst of gunshots were fired. He had no idea if Rodney had even survived the encounter or not, so for all Bishop knew Rodney could very easily be dead. But part of him didn't want to accept that he might have left another person to die like that though, especially somebody as nice as Rodney was. Granted he would likely find out within the next 12 hours or so once the announcement of who killed who was made, but that didn't make the situation any better for the poor boy. He needed to make sure Rodney was alright. He needed to make sure he didn't leave him to die.

As Bishop made his way down the shoreline, a small part of him couldn't help but to wonder what exactly this place meant to the people living here before his country came in and took control. Did the children play in the sand as their parents talked off to the side? Did young couples frequent this place for dates? Did old weird men ever take metal detectors around the beach looking for rare stuff only to come back with pennies because obviously there would be nothing of worth that other people hadn't already found before? These were questions that Bishop knew he would never get the answer to, even by some weird stretch of the imagination he would get out of this mess alive. But he couldn't imagine that any of those people really appreciated their home being the host of such a grizzly event. Assuming they were still alive. God he hoped they were still alive. Maybe he was imagining things, but he could never envision an American takeover ever ending without tragedy.

A little further down, Bishop then saw it. A girl sitting on a large rock off in the distance. For some reason she was stripped down to her underwear though, and didn't look(?) armed or hostile. If anything she kind of sort of seemed to be within her own little world. That was good, maybe it meant she wouldn't wanna fight Bishop. Though that didn't quite make Bishop want to approach her anymore. He was never really good with people in general really, with the only reason he was able to approach Rodney at all being the fact that he seemed just as awkward as he was. The fact that he was just recently shot at too didn't make things any easier either. But still, maybe they might have seen Rodney? It was doubtful, but knowing he was alive would at least make Bishop slightly less worried about the big guy.

So, anxiety on high, Bishop called out to her.

"H-h-h-h-h-h-hey!" He exclaimed, stuttering all the way. "I-I'm not p-p-playing! M-may I c-c-come over?"

Maybe yelling at the top of your lungs to somebody a decent distance away so that everyone who was nearby could hear you wasn't the best plan, in fact Bishop realized this as soon as he did it and threw his hands over his mouth in mild panic, but hey what's the worst that could happen? Some insane person with a gun pops out and shoots Bishop in the head? Probably. In fact that was very likely. But hopefully this time nothing too bad would happen to the poor boy.

[Cicadan]

Bridie's initial off-the-top reaction:

"Sorry, my clothes are drying!"

And then she got a second, good, hard look at person whose name she definitely did not know (new friend to make, only, now probably wasn't the time!) and what struck her is how it seemed very hard for him to complete his individual words for some reason. And then what struck her after that was a sense of stranger danger. She'd trusted Zeke, a familiar face, and been shot at. What could an unfamiliar face do to her... like, shoot her twice! It was just logical. That said, Bridie didn't think too hard about it because she was fairly happy to see another face, as always, never mind the chances she could be shot twice.

"Yeah, you can come over." Bridie was also doing her part and meeting him halfway, she energetically bounded off the rock and began to make her way over (aw nooo, the sand) and all her supplies like the ones she'd gotten from the dead dude (still dead) and her clothes still out to dry were left behind in her bouncy wake.

See, the thing is she thought and realized that she didn't have a weapon to kill people with yet! She couldn't really do her due diligence as an honest patriot if she had no weapon for the whole weird bit with the killing of her friends and stuff (current friends, not former, Bridie would never drop her friends no matter what they did to her, okay, maybe Zeke was a bit of an 'eh' ellipses question mark, but ellipses were the long dots, right?).

She kept on approaching until there was little personal space left between them, smiling the whole way. "I'm not playing yet!" She explained. "I kind of can't."

[Bowser]

"Sorry, my clothes are drying!" the mystery girl yelled out to Bishop, causing him to mutter "W-wait what?" under his breath. It felt like such a weird thing to blurt out so casually, especially in a place like this. But he shook it off, not really putting much more thought into it. She followed it up saying that Bishop was free to come over though, and proceeded to come forward without any of her supplies so Bishop figured this should be safe. So long as somebody didn't pop out and shoot at them again. He sure hoped that wouldn't happen again...

Gripping tightly onto his bag's strap, Bishop began making his way over to the girl as well. As he did though he couldn't help but to notice the weird white thing around her head. What exactly was it anyway? Was it a sash, some kind of weird bandanna, a striking fashion statement? He had no idea, but it was probably better he didn't... ask...

Oh god those were bandages.

Bishop couldn't help but to stop roughly 20 feet in front of the girl, unable to really move forward as his mind raced and he looked at her in wide eyed shock. Was she hurt? Did somebody attack her? What even happened?! Bishop's thoughts raced as the girl moved even closer to him, leaving very little distance between them. She mentioned that she wasn't playing, though he completely missed the part where she added "yet" at the end. Right now, only one question raged on in his mind.

"D-did- did somebody h-hurt you?" He asked, concern clearly present in his tone.

[Cicadan]

He started staring at her, like really intensely, in those awkward twilight moments where her voice was petering out of her sentence but she technically wasn't done yet because her vocal cords were still doing their thing. Bridie wasn't quite able to follow the trajectory of his eyes, which was actually also really typical to the ins and outs of her day-to-day. And then he was suddenly saying things really fast and right after she'd finished, so it took her a pause to re-calibrate and put out a response because whoa, all of a sudden, topic change.

Oh, yeah, right! "Yeah, someone did. Zeke, if you know him?" Zeke had attacked her, like a patriot was supposed to it a situation like this (The Program). She would have to fight him next time she saw him, for sure, and she was contemplating how many other people she was supposed to shoot on sight when she finally got a gun, because, as far as Bridie could tell it was sometimes critical that one also strategically make allies and bond with old friends. Without the whole bit of shooting them. Bridie had never been so good at the whole strategy part, though. Typically she failed those exercises in camp. But she was pretty confident she'd get it this time!

"He tried to shoot me but missed. Must not be so good with guns, I guess his grip wasn't adequate," Bridie mused casually. "Next time, probably, he'll get it right." Bride began to feel warmth atop her head, the leaky drippy sort like shower water only, like, squishier and generally not so pleasant feeling. Was she bleeding?

Indeed, she was. The bandage was already beginning to soak through.

"Guns are easy to get the hang of, you just need to get your bearings!"

[Bowser]

Zeke. The name didn't quite ring a bell to Bishop, really. But still it was good to know the name of somebody who was playing. That way he could at least warn people or something. Even then though the fact that at least two of his classmates were already playing frightened him. This wasn't even counting all of the people whom had already died by now- Oh god people were already dead. That thought had yet to enter Bishop's head before now, but at this stage of the game some of his classmates had to already be dead by now. Needless to say it was a terrifying idea, even if the deaths of his classmates did bring him closer to survival.

Though what was almost as frightening was how casually the girl was talking about her attacker. Bishop couldn't tell if she just didn't care or if she was silently approving-

She was bleeding.

Oh god she was freaking bleeding.

Did she not notice? Did she not care? Why the hell was she just standing around almost nonchalantly talking about how Zeke would likely kill her next time as she was bleeding through her bandages!

"S-s-sorry b-but you're b-b-bleeding!" Bishop exclaimed, the same concern previously in his voice still present, pointing at the girl's head wound. He then quickly unzipped his bag, and began to dig through it for his first aid kit.

"H-here I-I think I c-can h-help with t-that." Was all he said before he pulled out it out of his bag and zipped it right back up.

[Cicadan]

... Oh, she was bleeding. The wound was still probably too fresh. But, like, Bridie didn't know much about how that whole thing worked because she thought when you put on the bandage, it like, immediately stopped the bleeding forever, and ever. Though now that she thought about it- slowly, staring off into an unfathomable distance while the boy she was talking to panicked and such- it didn't make much sense. Or, well. Wasn't it like, a towel for blood? If you stepped out of a shower, which Bridie of course did regularly, and used a towel on the liquid it would be dried. So if you used something like a towel on something like a liquid...

Best not to think about it.

"Hey, don't use your supplies on me!" Bridie shook her head, backed up a step. "Unless we're clearly in an alliance you're only doing yourself a disservice by trying to help me," she recanted. "Not the honorable thing to do, dude. Here, just come along with me. I have more bandaging in my bag." Bridie turned heel and began to walk back. A dull throb from her head, centered around the blister-y bloody red spot of bullet graze, caused her to groan in annoyance. She wanted to scratch it but she DEFINITELY knew that wasn't a good idea!

But yeah, this guy seemed a bit silly didn't he?

"Don't be too nice," Bridie chided as she didn't bother to check whether she was being followed or not. "Because, like, you're here for a reason along with the rest of us, and I know there's like, some situations where the rules don't apply but like, I dunno which those are anyways so it's better to err on the side of caution. I'm not going to fight while I don't have a gun but once I do..." She rambled and rambled and there was her bag in front of her, she squatted legs closed and began searching for her already opened medkit.