"Enjoy your long hair while you can, Mina," her dad said, back when he still loved her. "When you enlist, you'll have to have it short for a long while."
It was her first year of middle school and Mina was sitting at her desk and her dad was brushing her hair. He'd promised to help her braid it afterwards. He wasn't as good at that as her mom was, but she didn't mind all that much. She had a lot of hair, even back then, and she liked the way her dad's hands moved through it. They were larger and rougher than her mom's, but her dad's movements were less certain, more careful. He made sure not to pull. For that, she could accept a slightly lopsided end product.
"How come?" she asked, a slight frown forming. This was one of those topics she'd sort of thought about once or twice, mostly when she saw how all the military people had the same boring buzz cut, but it hadn't really occurred to her to ask before.
"A few reasons." The brush hit a snag and her dad slowed his pace, patiently working the tangle. "Part of it is that everyone needs to look more or less the same."
Mina opened her mouth to ask another "why?" but he reached forward and squeezed her shoulder and kept talking before she could, granting a preemptive reply to her impending query.
"In the military, everyone is united behind one purpose: the service of our country. To that end, each individual must make certain sacrifices. Wearing your hair short unites you with the others. It shows that everyone is of one purpose and mind. It also displays professionalism. If the enemy sees that sort of cooperation and selflessness, that's already a blow to their morale. They know that any individual is secondary to the collective."
Mina considered this. She liked it when her dad explained these things to her; it was when he seemed most alive. Peter Mashall could be somewhat distant, not in any sort of way that made it seem like he didn't care about her, but in this way like he didn't quite know how to talk about things that didn't interest him very much. He tried, for Mina's sake—this, she thought, was because he cared about her, however, not because he cared about the things that she cared about. But when their conversations turned to the military, he always had answers to spare, and detail to back them up. He explained with ease and grace, and that was special. Mina's classmates and teachers did not have that talent; often, they tended to flounder when she found one little detail to pull and pull and pull at until she'd examined its every facet. But her dad never faltered. He always knew.
"What are the other reasons?" she asked.
"Short hair is easier to take care of." Here, he pulled the brush through the tangle, and Mina gasped, expecting pain, but none came; he'd loosened he knot enough for the brush to resume its smooth travels. "It takes less time to shower, less effort to keep presentable."
This made sense. Mina needed help when she wanted to do anything special with her hair. Just washing it kept her in the shower longer than either of her siblings or even her mom. Her dad always left the water running for precisely two minutes.
"Long hair is also a liability in combat situations," he continued. "If you're fighting someone, and you have hair like yours, that can work against you."
Here, he took her hair in his hand and tugged backwards, gently but firmly, and Mina's head tilted back along with it, raising her chin and exposing her neck.
"Oh," she said, nodding a little (but not too much because her dad still had her hair in his hand and her mobility was thus limited), "I see."
"Long hair is for looks," her dad said, "and it looks very good on you, Mina. But looks are for peacetime. Looks are for dances and sleepovers. When you're in a dangerous situation, they need to go by the wayside. So when it's time for you to go fight, off comes your hair. But it's not a bad thing. You'll be safer, and that's what's really important."
As he spoke, he gave her back her slack, set the brush on the desk to her left, and started to braid. His fingers felt firm yet hesitant on her scalp, and she could already tell he was off-center, but she didn't say anything. She just smiled and closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft movements.
Mina's left hand moved through her hair, gathering, twisting, as her right opened the first aid kit in front of her and sifted through the contents. Her back hurt—she probably had a nice big bruise right between her shoulder blades from where the soldier had slammed her with the butt of his rifle, but nothing felt broken or even damaged in any real way, and likely some of the pain was due to how she kept pressing at it. She'd managed to compose herself more or less in the brief trek through the chilly outdoors between school and bus, adjusting the cups of her bra and smoothing her tank top and shirt and glowering at the soldiers. Bravado had returned easily enough when she realized that her death was still a little ways away.
Her right hand found the scissors. They were small but sharp; she thought she'd be able to cut through most anything she had to with them, so long as whatever it was wasn't very large. She didn't think they'd be able to take a finger off—maybe gouge an eye, but at that point, why not use something more suited to the task, for example her thumb, a pencil, or a stick picked up off the ground? She considered the scissors for a moment, considered her hair.
She was in a large building full of empty stalls, brightly illuminated through wide windows. She was in a dry corner, behind a particularly dusty stall, but most of the floor was damp. The entire building was full of assorted maritime implements, and everything reeked of rotting seafood. Mina hadn't had much fish since her move to Denver. She'd never been too fond of it, and Colorado was landlocked, and her aunt and uncle had better things to spend their money on than feeding their troublesome ward gourmet food she wouldn't appreciate. The stench made Mina think she'd never eat seafood ever again, and then she thought oh, yeah, that was actually probably literally true, and that made it more depressing than funny.
The scissors clattered back into the first aid kit. Mina wrapped her hair around and around, and she grabbed a roll of gauze. She thought of her father and his long-ago advice, and she thought of that moment of terror when she thought she was going to die, and she found a compromise. She tore off a length of gauze and she assembled her hair into a loose bun and she tied it that way with the gauze in a bow, like an ugly filmy white ribbon.
"Hey, uh, hello. This is... if you're listening to this, you probably picked this up from my corpse or from whoever killed me. Hi. I am—I was—Mina Mashall. I'm saying that in case I'm so fucked up you can't tell. This was my weapon so now you can probably guess why I'm dead as shit. I hope you're someone cool. Maybe we knew each other. Maybe we can get to know each other now, kind of.
"I don't know. I don't know at all. Fuck. I hope you didn't kill me. Fuck you if you killed me. I hope you die. I hope you die slowly and horribly and painfully. I hope someone pulls your eyes out with fishhooks. But if you're feeling at all charitable, maybe don't throw this away or... or erase me, I guess. I mean, fuck, I take it back. You can keep your eyes, okay? Just let me have this and we'll call it even. Please.
"And if you just found this lying around, or on whoever killed me, or maybe I'm dead and you're not the one who killed me but you're poking at me anyways, then please listen a little. Just if you have time, okay? And only if you want to and it won't get you in too much trouble. I don't know. Who the fuck cares? I'm dead. But when I wasn't dead I thought that maybe it'd be nice for someone to listen to me a little so I'm just going to talk to you a little and hope that there's someone out there listening to this.
"Thank you."
Mina found a hook twice as long as her hand and managed to wrench it from the wire connecting it to the ceiling. Her shirt was unbuttoned and she was thinking of maybe taking it off entirely and rolling with just her tank top but hadn't yet because it wasn't hot enough to overcome the feelings of security the shirt brought her. It was a pretty normal army shirt, and it fit alright but not exactly well, but it made her feel strong because she'd lifted it from a surplus store and had gotten away clean. It also had pockets, unlike the rest of her clothes, breast pockets on each side and another pocket on the inside, and that last one was where she'd stashed her voice recorder. It was switched off for now, but she'd practiced flicking it off and on and had figured out how to start it recording without looking at it. She'd turned off all the noises that it made by default when engaging a recording.
She'd fixed her socks, smoothing them and pulling them straight so they sat just below her knees. She'd retied her boots a few times, getting their fit nice and firm but not tight enough to cut off her circulation. Her bag was zipped up, all its contents packed as neatly as she could manage. She was, on the whole, fairly composed.
She wanted, one more time, to put it all off. She could stay here, crouched behind the stall, until someone came and found her. It wouldn't be so different from seeking ways to kick her ever-expanding service just a little further down the road, except for one key element: waiting would be totally passive. Mina was not someone who did well with passivity, and if she was to die, it wouldn't be because someone stumbled upon her and slit her throat before she ever so much as moved from the stinking stall where she awoke.
So Mina stood up properly for the third time—the first having been to briefly survey the room and the second to liberate the hook—and for the first time stepped away from her corner, into the main body of the massive indoor market, eyes scanning the room. She could not say with any confidence that she was alone here. The entire place was a mess of hiding spots and ambush zones, and her mutterings to her recorder had been quiet enough that there might well be others in here totally unaware of her presence.
No More A Thief
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours), F01 START
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MurderWeasel
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Somersault
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Was her eyeshadow starting to leak or something? Was that even possible? If it was, then that was soooo shitty.
F27 - KeKe Baker - START
To be fair, it seemed that everything around here was an absolute mess. There was the smell of rank-ass fish that still hung in the air, there was the sheer ickiness that seemed to emanate from the very ground, there were the puddles that she kept on stepping in, and of course, there was the fact that she was well and truly a dead woman walking.
Death was something meant to be really scary and just this...this potpourri or whatever of your dearest and darkest secrets, but KeKe felt as if nothing of the sort was really hitting her at that present moment. Maybe it was stupidity, maybe it was bravery, but it kept her walking and not a broken-down shell of herself. That made it a fairly good thing as far as she was concerned, but it wasn't as if she could really think very far now. Day-by-day thinking was probably a lot more literal now, but she was trying not to think like that.
If she stopped to look at everything objectively, she'd end up back at the fact that she was pretty much done for. She could like make up a step dance routine if she was given a song and like half an hour, and give some pretty baller make up advice, at lest she thought so herself, but other than that, what was there for her? The weird taser thingy she had found in her bag?
Mmm, nope. She'd just have to be a strong, independent women, and not let anyone get in her way, and fuck up everyone who did, and - oh. There was Mina.
The dumb bitch who managed to flash everyone in the whole damn room, and even outside of that, was not the brightest crayon in the box. If KeKe was a beautiful Razzmic Berry, Mina was a dull-ass Sonic Silver. She rolled her eyes at the girl, even if she wasn't paying attention, because she was like losing her mind or something and talking right into a recorder.
If Keke Baker had it up to here with racists, then she had it up to the fucking ceiling for spoiled little white girls who had all the privilege in the world, and threw it away making half-hearted attempts to stick it to the government, as if they understood what girls like her had to go through. Did they know how it felt to be run home crying to their parents, asking if they were black because they were dirty? No, and they weren't even going about rebelling or whatever the right way. If you were gonna go that way, at least try to make a difference, rather than doing the dumbest stuff and trying to get attention, like Tyrone. Uhhhhhh.
She could not deal with this shit right now, whatever it was, and maybe it was stupid, but she really felt the need right now to get Mina to shut the hell up. Coughing for emphasis, she lightly tossed her hair and glared at the other girl.
"The fuck are you doing?"
This was most definitely not NSA anymore, but she could pretend for now like it was. Had to take her anger out on someone, after all.
F27 - KeKe Baker - START
To be fair, it seemed that everything around here was an absolute mess. There was the smell of rank-ass fish that still hung in the air, there was the sheer ickiness that seemed to emanate from the very ground, there were the puddles that she kept on stepping in, and of course, there was the fact that she was well and truly a dead woman walking.
Death was something meant to be really scary and just this...this potpourri or whatever of your dearest and darkest secrets, but KeKe felt as if nothing of the sort was really hitting her at that present moment. Maybe it was stupidity, maybe it was bravery, but it kept her walking and not a broken-down shell of herself. That made it a fairly good thing as far as she was concerned, but it wasn't as if she could really think very far now. Day-by-day thinking was probably a lot more literal now, but she was trying not to think like that.
If she stopped to look at everything objectively, she'd end up back at the fact that she was pretty much done for. She could like make up a step dance routine if she was given a song and like half an hour, and give some pretty baller make up advice, at lest she thought so herself, but other than that, what was there for her? The weird taser thingy she had found in her bag?
Mmm, nope. She'd just have to be a strong, independent women, and not let anyone get in her way, and fuck up everyone who did, and - oh. There was Mina.
The dumb bitch who managed to flash everyone in the whole damn room, and even outside of that, was not the brightest crayon in the box. If KeKe was a beautiful Razzmic Berry, Mina was a dull-ass Sonic Silver. She rolled her eyes at the girl, even if she wasn't paying attention, because she was like losing her mind or something and talking right into a recorder.
If Keke Baker had it up to here with racists, then she had it up to the fucking ceiling for spoiled little white girls who had all the privilege in the world, and threw it away making half-hearted attempts to stick it to the government, as if they understood what girls like her had to go through. Did they know how it felt to be run home crying to their parents, asking if they were black because they were dirty? No, and they weren't even going about rebelling or whatever the right way. If you were gonna go that way, at least try to make a difference, rather than doing the dumbest stuff and trying to get attention, like Tyrone. Uhhhhhh.
She could not deal with this shit right now, whatever it was, and maybe it was stupid, but she really felt the need right now to get Mina to shut the hell up. Coughing for emphasis, she lightly tossed her hair and glared at the other girl.
"The fuck are you doing?"
This was most definitely not NSA anymore, but she could pretend for now like it was. Had to take her anger out on someone, after all.
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MurderWeasel
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The voice came from the side, from an angle Mina hadn't checked, one with a perfectly clear view of where she'd been huddled. How long had she been observed? That could've been an ambush, could've been her getting gunned down where she sat messing with her hair or muttering to herself, and the very thought that someone had been spying on her raised her temperature and clenched her fingers tighter around her pilfered hook, but turning she saw that the voyeur was KeKe Baker. Mina took a deep breath, another, let her grip relax without loosening. It was just KeKe, KeKe in her leather jacket and too much makeup and lace-detailed red top, and more pertinently KeKe in her high heels. Mina would've thought herself lucky to be wearing hiking boots were not the majority of her footwear chosen for function over fashion; she'd learned to make good time in a skirt while retaining vague decency, but bad shoes were the bane of any quick escape.
"Getting myself sorted out," Mina called back, eyeing the girl. She wanted to turn on her recorder again, but the inside pocket was on the left side of her shirt and the hook was in her right hand and that meant she'd either have to grope around left-handed or trade the hook to her weaker side and she didn't think either action would play well to her audience. She didn't want to spook KeKe. That wasn't solely out of some sense of self-preservation, either; Mina liked the girl. KeKe had an image and a style and she could sling profanities like she'd just done, and it all felt so natural, like she'd come inexorably to what Mina had to practice so hard. This was maybe a one-sided affinity, but Mina was used to liking people who didn't really feel as strongly about her. It was how things went sometimes, and people had their own baggage and she didn't begrudge them that as long as they weren't horrible. Any day she'd rather get cussed out by KeKe than get a nice word from Sandy Ibarra.
"What're you doing," she asked, and then because liking someone went only so far she added, "besides watching me?"
She couldn't tell what KeKe had drawn. If the girl turned aggressive, her armament would define the encounter. With a gun, what mattered was getting distance and breaking line of sight; Mina assumed KeKe didn't know the first thing about shooting and knew for a fact the girl hadn't practiced with anything she was packing given how early it was and the lack of anything resembling gunshots in the past few minutes. A quick vault over the booth would give Mina a good chance of escape without injury. If KeKe came after her with something more melee, distance would still be the name of the game, exploiting the footwear gap and using that improved mobility to get out.
It wasn't so hard to think like this. Maybe, Mina thought, that was something she had that could see her through. It was all the same as her normal life, the same as deciding in a split second which hallway to dash down to ditch pursuing faculty, the same as seizing the opportunity to slip Bridie her pens, the same as figuring out just how far she could push the soldiers and not die for it. Her father had once praised her for her quick reactions and analysis. He'd told her she'd make a fine officer, back before he told her she'd be lucky to make it out of basic without getting court-martialed.
But this line of thought was getting ahead of things. Mina was jumpy, too jumpy because she'd been talking about her own death a minute ago, and the situation was burning away all the trust she'd never really had. Still, all KeKe had done was ask her a question. KeKe wasn't bad, at least at school. It'd be the same here. Hopefully.
And if not, the part of herself Mina was trying to quiet reminded her, she was ready.
"Getting myself sorted out," Mina called back, eyeing the girl. She wanted to turn on her recorder again, but the inside pocket was on the left side of her shirt and the hook was in her right hand and that meant she'd either have to grope around left-handed or trade the hook to her weaker side and she didn't think either action would play well to her audience. She didn't want to spook KeKe. That wasn't solely out of some sense of self-preservation, either; Mina liked the girl. KeKe had an image and a style and she could sling profanities like she'd just done, and it all felt so natural, like she'd come inexorably to what Mina had to practice so hard. This was maybe a one-sided affinity, but Mina was used to liking people who didn't really feel as strongly about her. It was how things went sometimes, and people had their own baggage and she didn't begrudge them that as long as they weren't horrible. Any day she'd rather get cussed out by KeKe than get a nice word from Sandy Ibarra.
"What're you doing," she asked, and then because liking someone went only so far she added, "besides watching me?"
She couldn't tell what KeKe had drawn. If the girl turned aggressive, her armament would define the encounter. With a gun, what mattered was getting distance and breaking line of sight; Mina assumed KeKe didn't know the first thing about shooting and knew for a fact the girl hadn't practiced with anything she was packing given how early it was and the lack of anything resembling gunshots in the past few minutes. A quick vault over the booth would give Mina a good chance of escape without injury. If KeKe came after her with something more melee, distance would still be the name of the game, exploiting the footwear gap and using that improved mobility to get out.
It wasn't so hard to think like this. Maybe, Mina thought, that was something she had that could see her through. It was all the same as her normal life, the same as deciding in a split second which hallway to dash down to ditch pursuing faculty, the same as seizing the opportunity to slip Bridie her pens, the same as figuring out just how far she could push the soldiers and not die for it. Her father had once praised her for her quick reactions and analysis. He'd told her she'd make a fine officer, back before he told her she'd be lucky to make it out of basic without getting court-martialed.
But this line of thought was getting ahead of things. Mina was jumpy, too jumpy because she'd been talking about her own death a minute ago, and the situation was burning away all the trust she'd never really had. Still, all KeKe had done was ask her a question. KeKe wasn't bad, at least at school. It'd be the same here. Hopefully.
And if not, the part of herself Mina was trying to quiet reminded her, she was ready.
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Somersault
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Well, somebody certainly looked a bit worse for fucking ware, and hint: It wasn't KeKe. Not that Mina looked like a hot mess or anything, but she was using gauze or something to hold her hair up in a bun, which seemed to have been one of the many questionable fashion choices that the other girl had made. It wasn't as if her hair was in a bun when she did go and show the school her boobs and all, which meant that she must have done it after waking up here. Same went for the hook, which she eyed suspiciously, arms crossed as if to tell the other girl she wasn't about to take any shit. If she was already muttering into her fucking recording thing or whatever about random shit, who was to say she wasn't about to lunge at KeKe with a hook and screaming nonsense? No one, that was who.
"Just tryna' figure out what to do," she shrugged, looking back at her questioningly. Truth be told, she had no plans at all in her mind, but even if she did, there was no chance in hell she was gonna tell frickin' Mina Mashall about them. Girl had the planning skills of a wet potato or something, and while that was definitely a sick burn, she couldn't just go out and say it. A fall from social grace may have meant that she had also taken a deep fall off the cliffs of sanity on this island, and KeKe wasn't stupid enough to just go out and risk her ass for some fun. Would've been real fun, mind you, but getting hooked in the face was not how she wanted to go about this whole thing.
There were probably many ways to die here, and while she was trying to steer as far away from that topic as possible, she managed to go and fucking get stopped over right in the middle of Death Junction, so KeKe supposed she could stop for a while and think about her own impending mortality for a bit. At that moment, she really wished that she had her nail file with her, if only to help while away the time; she knew for a fact that the girl in front of her was most definitely not a great conversation partner, and just being stuck staring at one another for a bit seemed like a surefire away to end up with a bitch getting shanked. She wouldn't be the bitch getting shanked in any circumstance, but caution, right?
KeKe sighed. "Don't really know what to do here, you know?" If nothing else, talking would help tide away the boredom, and while being alone and being with Mina did seem like a bit of a difficult decision to make, at least Mina was another talking, breathing human being.
She still wasn't sure whether Mina was a good, or even okay human in many senses of the word, but that was something that could be learned through time, right? Annoying people could become sort of less annoying, couldn't they? Or was that because people who lived with them just got so tired of getting annoyed that they just gave in? Not that that would probably happen with the Girl Flash over there, but it was a possibility.
Wasn't really a probable one, but still one up in the air, like a balloon already half-deflated. Would be a really shitty balloon, but one that existed nevertheless.
"You have any suggestions," KeKe inquired, tilting her head at Mina. "at all, really? Taking all answers here."
Except the stupid ones, of course.
"Just tryna' figure out what to do," she shrugged, looking back at her questioningly. Truth be told, she had no plans at all in her mind, but even if she did, there was no chance in hell she was gonna tell frickin' Mina Mashall about them. Girl had the planning skills of a wet potato or something, and while that was definitely a sick burn, she couldn't just go out and say it. A fall from social grace may have meant that she had also taken a deep fall off the cliffs of sanity on this island, and KeKe wasn't stupid enough to just go out and risk her ass for some fun. Would've been real fun, mind you, but getting hooked in the face was not how she wanted to go about this whole thing.
There were probably many ways to die here, and while she was trying to steer as far away from that topic as possible, she managed to go and fucking get stopped over right in the middle of Death Junction, so KeKe supposed she could stop for a while and think about her own impending mortality for a bit. At that moment, she really wished that she had her nail file with her, if only to help while away the time; she knew for a fact that the girl in front of her was most definitely not a great conversation partner, and just being stuck staring at one another for a bit seemed like a surefire away to end up with a bitch getting shanked. She wouldn't be the bitch getting shanked in any circumstance, but caution, right?
KeKe sighed. "Don't really know what to do here, you know?" If nothing else, talking would help tide away the boredom, and while being alone and being with Mina did seem like a bit of a difficult decision to make, at least Mina was another talking, breathing human being.
She still wasn't sure whether Mina was a good, or even okay human in many senses of the word, but that was something that could be learned through time, right? Annoying people could become sort of less annoying, couldn't they? Or was that because people who lived with them just got so tired of getting annoyed that they just gave in? Not that that would probably happen with the Girl Flash over there, but it was a possibility.
Wasn't really a probable one, but still one up in the air, like a balloon already half-deflated. Would be a really shitty balloon, but one that existed nevertheless.
"You have any suggestions," KeKe inquired, tilting her head at Mina. "at all, really? Taking all answers here."
Except the stupid ones, of course.
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MurderWeasel
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"That depends," Mina said.
KeKe's words were doing some good for her, at least. The girl seemed normal—a little prickly, a little on edge, but that was actually reassuring; anyone perfectly calm in this situation would be either planning something or in the midst of a mental breakdown. Moreover, Keke hadn't drawn a weapon or shouted insults or otherwise escalated the tension. Quite the opposite, really. She'd treated Mina as loosely trustworthy, admitting that she had no idea where to start and asking for suggestions, and that also made Mina feel good because she'd already armed herself and sussed out multiple avenues of escape dependent on unknown factors. Mina was used to reminders that she wasn't like other people—she often intentionally cultivated them—but usually in the context of her morals or understanding of the world, not so much her capacity for and speed of reasoning.
Wait, was it racist that she was assuming herself smarter than KeKe? Or at least, smarter at this sort of thing? Did it matter if it was actually true?
"First, I'd suggest we keep talking instead of killing each other." Too blunt? Too obvious? But it seemed good to verbalize her desires and at the same time remind KeKe of just what the stakes were here. It also gave Mina a good excuse to tuck the hook into the back of her skirt as a show of good faith, a process slightly slower and more inelegant than she'd've preferred because she had to make sure not to stab herself in the ass. In fact, she realized a second later, it was a bad move overall because now if she fell or got pushed over or slammed into a wall she'd be driving the hook straight into herself and escalating her predicament considerably. There was no smooth way to fish it right back out immediately, though, so instead she just straightened her shirt, in the process dipping her hand into the inner pocket and flicking the recorder on and starting it rolling. She hoped that was casual enough to avoid detection, not that she ultimately cared that much if KeKe knew she was on tape.
"Don't trust anyone too easily," Mina continued, hoping she wasn't making that mistake at this very moment. "You know our class is full of assholes. That hasn't changed."
She didn't say that even a bunch of the seemingly-okay people were probably going to become a lot less okay as this progressed. The simple fact was that people did horrifying things when their backs were against the wall, and Mina didn't have a lot of trust to spare for anyone. A good impression at school could buy the sort of limited confidence she was extending to KeKe, but not a whole lot more.
"And maybe grab some boots," Mina said, gesturing towards the nearest wall, at the base of which were strewn a number of bulky rubber waders. "I think you'll want to be able to run here."
KeKe's words were doing some good for her, at least. The girl seemed normal—a little prickly, a little on edge, but that was actually reassuring; anyone perfectly calm in this situation would be either planning something or in the midst of a mental breakdown. Moreover, Keke hadn't drawn a weapon or shouted insults or otherwise escalated the tension. Quite the opposite, really. She'd treated Mina as loosely trustworthy, admitting that she had no idea where to start and asking for suggestions, and that also made Mina feel good because she'd already armed herself and sussed out multiple avenues of escape dependent on unknown factors. Mina was used to reminders that she wasn't like other people—she often intentionally cultivated them—but usually in the context of her morals or understanding of the world, not so much her capacity for and speed of reasoning.
Wait, was it racist that she was assuming herself smarter than KeKe? Or at least, smarter at this sort of thing? Did it matter if it was actually true?
"First, I'd suggest we keep talking instead of killing each other." Too blunt? Too obvious? But it seemed good to verbalize her desires and at the same time remind KeKe of just what the stakes were here. It also gave Mina a good excuse to tuck the hook into the back of her skirt as a show of good faith, a process slightly slower and more inelegant than she'd've preferred because she had to make sure not to stab herself in the ass. In fact, she realized a second later, it was a bad move overall because now if she fell or got pushed over or slammed into a wall she'd be driving the hook straight into herself and escalating her predicament considerably. There was no smooth way to fish it right back out immediately, though, so instead she just straightened her shirt, in the process dipping her hand into the inner pocket and flicking the recorder on and starting it rolling. She hoped that was casual enough to avoid detection, not that she ultimately cared that much if KeKe knew she was on tape.
"Don't trust anyone too easily," Mina continued, hoping she wasn't making that mistake at this very moment. "You know our class is full of assholes. That hasn't changed."
She didn't say that even a bunch of the seemingly-okay people were probably going to become a lot less okay as this progressed. The simple fact was that people did horrifying things when their backs were against the wall, and Mina didn't have a lot of trust to spare for anyone. A good impression at school could buy the sort of limited confidence she was extending to KeKe, but not a whole lot more.
"And maybe grab some boots," Mina said, gesturing towards the nearest wall, at the base of which were strewn a number of bulky rubber waders. "I think you'll want to be able to run here."
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Somersault
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"Those boots look stank as all hell, but I'll keep it in mind," KeKe agreed.
Well, maybe not agreed in the sense that what Mina was saying was like fucking rainbows and unicorns, but agreed in the sense that she got where she was coming from. It was nice to see that they were mainly on the same wavelength and all about not really wanting to kill any bitches out here, which was pretty good. The hook now being put in the back of Mina's skirt was also a good thing, although KeKe wondered that was actually an effective place to put any junk, especially something that sharp and pointy. Unless she was looking for some ass-to-hook action or whatever when she fell over or something, it didn't seem like the greatest idea. Wasn't really KeKe's place to judge, but she still wasn't sure whether that was smart. If the other girl managed to go up and trip and accidentally off herself on something, though, that wouldn't be any skin off her back.
What she was peeved about, though, was the fact that she had left her neon pink stun gun thingy right in her bag. Not that Mina was hostile or whatever, but it was best to be prepared, and she was not exactly prepared at that moment. Would've taken a bit too much time to go fish it out now. Like, wouldn't have really been that much time, but here, unzipping and grabbing it seemed stupid, considering that Mina also seemed to have something else in her pocket, which was presumably the thing she was talking into. She quirked an eyebrow up at it, though. Was kinda creepy of her to go on and record all of this shit, but she supposed it didn't matter all that much, even if it actually did, because it was a fricking audio recorder or whatever. What could she do with it? Use it as evidence or something? If any of those plans were going about, KeKe was definitely not here for it, unless they involved her living. Still unlikely, but if there was a chance, that'd have been nice. Not that there was so much back home to go back too, but it would've been nice to see Libby one last time, wish her good luck with school and hope that she would be able to make something of herself.
A bittersweet smile appeared on her face, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by a look of curiosity, focused on the recorder thingy.
"That what you got?" KeKe asked, motioning towards Mina's inner pocket, and the recorder contained inside. "Got some sort of taser thing, but I don't know how to use it. At all." That was a bald-faced lie if she had ever heard one, considering the stun gun seemed to be a thing where you literally pressed a button while holding it up to another person, but wasn't as if Mina had to know that? Little lies like that weren't so hard to make, like the ones where she had to tell her baby sister that Santa existed, or that Tyrone went to a better place. Some truth mixed in with a bit of bullshit was the perfect recipe for a lie. A hand combed through black hair, checking that her 'do still looked good. That was a bit random, yeah, but she still had the urge to check on it. Make sure everything looked good, even here. At least her fringe was still parted.
Perhaps that was why she was so reluctant to replace her heels with the boots, even if she knew that the boots would give her a much better chance at not dying. She had always loved heels, they made her feel taller, made her feel stronger. Like she was on top of the world, rather than being crushed by it. She needed to hold on to something here, even when the rest of the people here were losing their goddamn minds. There, she decided, just like that: she would keep the heels. Maybe not keep on wearing them, but keep them in her bag, at the very least.
If KeKe Baker was going to die here, she was going to die here remaining herself. KeKe Baker was fucking KeKe Baker, and so she would remain true to herself, and not do stupid and crazy shit. No, she was not a crazy ho, and would do nothing of the sort.
"Anyone you'd like to find out here?"
Perhaps it was a stupid question, but having a goal out here along with shooting the shit would help her focus, and who knew, maybe one of Mina's stupid-ass rebel friends could help out or something. Maybe they'd find one of KeKe's friends, and they could chill before dying.
In any case, she was still keeping the heels.
Well, maybe not agreed in the sense that what Mina was saying was like fucking rainbows and unicorns, but agreed in the sense that she got where she was coming from. It was nice to see that they were mainly on the same wavelength and all about not really wanting to kill any bitches out here, which was pretty good. The hook now being put in the back of Mina's skirt was also a good thing, although KeKe wondered that was actually an effective place to put any junk, especially something that sharp and pointy. Unless she was looking for some ass-to-hook action or whatever when she fell over or something, it didn't seem like the greatest idea. Wasn't really KeKe's place to judge, but she still wasn't sure whether that was smart. If the other girl managed to go up and trip and accidentally off herself on something, though, that wouldn't be any skin off her back.
What she was peeved about, though, was the fact that she had left her neon pink stun gun thingy right in her bag. Not that Mina was hostile or whatever, but it was best to be prepared, and she was not exactly prepared at that moment. Would've taken a bit too much time to go fish it out now. Like, wouldn't have really been that much time, but here, unzipping and grabbing it seemed stupid, considering that Mina also seemed to have something else in her pocket, which was presumably the thing she was talking into. She quirked an eyebrow up at it, though. Was kinda creepy of her to go on and record all of this shit, but she supposed it didn't matter all that much, even if it actually did, because it was a fricking audio recorder or whatever. What could she do with it? Use it as evidence or something? If any of those plans were going about, KeKe was definitely not here for it, unless they involved her living. Still unlikely, but if there was a chance, that'd have been nice. Not that there was so much back home to go back too, but it would've been nice to see Libby one last time, wish her good luck with school and hope that she would be able to make something of herself.
A bittersweet smile appeared on her face, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by a look of curiosity, focused on the recorder thingy.
"That what you got?" KeKe asked, motioning towards Mina's inner pocket, and the recorder contained inside. "Got some sort of taser thing, but I don't know how to use it. At all." That was a bald-faced lie if she had ever heard one, considering the stun gun seemed to be a thing where you literally pressed a button while holding it up to another person, but wasn't as if Mina had to know that? Little lies like that weren't so hard to make, like the ones where she had to tell her baby sister that Santa existed, or that Tyrone went to a better place. Some truth mixed in with a bit of bullshit was the perfect recipe for a lie. A hand combed through black hair, checking that her 'do still looked good. That was a bit random, yeah, but she still had the urge to check on it. Make sure everything looked good, even here. At least her fringe was still parted.
Perhaps that was why she was so reluctant to replace her heels with the boots, even if she knew that the boots would give her a much better chance at not dying. She had always loved heels, they made her feel taller, made her feel stronger. Like she was on top of the world, rather than being crushed by it. She needed to hold on to something here, even when the rest of the people here were losing their goddamn minds. There, she decided, just like that: she would keep the heels. Maybe not keep on wearing them, but keep them in her bag, at the very least.
If KeKe Baker was going to die here, she was going to die here remaining herself. KeKe Baker was fucking KeKe Baker, and so she would remain true to herself, and not do stupid and crazy shit. No, she was not a crazy ho, and would do nothing of the sort.
"Anyone you'd like to find out here?"
Perhaps it was a stupid question, but having a goal out here along with shooting the shit would help her focus, and who knew, maybe one of Mina's stupid-ass rebel friends could help out or something. Maybe they'd find one of KeKe's friends, and they could chill before dying.
In any case, she was still keeping the heels.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"Yeah," Mina said, when KeKe asked her to confirm her weapon. She volunteered nothing further on the subject. The other girl had apparently been assigned a taser, but that was something Mina would believe when she saw it. She had no particular reason to distrust KeKe, but given their situation she was taking nothing for granted, even in an interaction that had thus far seemed friendly and forthright. KeKe was checking her hair, a casual, everyday thing, but it put Mina on guard just a little because she didn't really think that KeKe got it yet. The girl was acting like this was still Denver, and that made for a nice easy conversation but also meant that KeKe was a potential wildcard when understanding properly set in. Mina thought that, barring the unlikely but unignorable possibility of the girl being a surprisingly good actress, KeKe was trustworthy but not reliable.
This impression was somewhat furthered by the next question the girl asked.
"No," Mina said, "nobody I want to find. There are a bunch of people I don't want to find, though."
She'd been the first one out, first one onto the bus, but that also meant she'd had plenty of time to watch her classmates herded after her. She'd taken in faces, watched each of them, each one more fresh from the shock of being called than she, as she massaged the aching part of her back. There were friends of hers here, people she liked, and also people she did not like or trust at all. Mina thought she could probably predict what some of her classmates would do, but there was always room to be surprised. Some of her friends would surely panic and kill, and some of the stuck-up bastards who talked so big would undoubtedly find it all just a little too real and crumple into the cowardice they'd always been hiding. None of that had much to do with Mina unless she was directly confronted by it.
Tracking down the people she cared the most about would just mean losing them, or them losing her. A goal was a good way to keep busy and avoid really thinking about what was going on, but Mina was used to staring uncomfortable truths in the face and wasn't going to stop now. Indeed, she'd have to do that if she had any hope of prolonging her life. She had thoughts about that possibility too, of course. She knew she was not the sort to emerge victorious in The Program. She had too many enemies, and more than that, she didn't have the mentality. It wasn't that she lacked the capacity—Hadn't she just been patting herself on the back for precisely that? Noting her possession of that canniness KeKe so clearly lacked?—but rather that she just didn't want it as much as others must have.
Nobody knew what happened to the winners, but Mina had a pretty good guess what would happen to her specifically were she to be counted among that number. She was a disgrace, a troublemaker, already a blemish on this iteration because of what she'd done when they called her name. They'd never admit it (after all, wouldn't it look good if she came around and played by their rules after all?), but Mina knew that authority was as vindictive as it was far-reaching. They would march her out of the arena and straight to a ditch and blow her brains out and throw her carcass on top of the rest. No other course of action made sense for them. There was a very very small chance she could avert such a fate by making an immediate about-face, expounding on her mistakes and her past and extolling the true values of patriotism and loyalty, but fuck that. That was just a different flavor of suicide.
The question, then, became what she would do with her final days (or hours, or minutes).
"And you?" she said, returning KeKe's question despite her general lack of investment in the answer. She liked KeKe, and the girl had probably asked specifically to fish this sort of response. "Who are you looking for?"
This impression was somewhat furthered by the next question the girl asked.
"No," Mina said, "nobody I want to find. There are a bunch of people I don't want to find, though."
She'd been the first one out, first one onto the bus, but that also meant she'd had plenty of time to watch her classmates herded after her. She'd taken in faces, watched each of them, each one more fresh from the shock of being called than she, as she massaged the aching part of her back. There were friends of hers here, people she liked, and also people she did not like or trust at all. Mina thought she could probably predict what some of her classmates would do, but there was always room to be surprised. Some of her friends would surely panic and kill, and some of the stuck-up bastards who talked so big would undoubtedly find it all just a little too real and crumple into the cowardice they'd always been hiding. None of that had much to do with Mina unless she was directly confronted by it.
Tracking down the people she cared the most about would just mean losing them, or them losing her. A goal was a good way to keep busy and avoid really thinking about what was going on, but Mina was used to staring uncomfortable truths in the face and wasn't going to stop now. Indeed, she'd have to do that if she had any hope of prolonging her life. She had thoughts about that possibility too, of course. She knew she was not the sort to emerge victorious in The Program. She had too many enemies, and more than that, she didn't have the mentality. It wasn't that she lacked the capacity—Hadn't she just been patting herself on the back for precisely that? Noting her possession of that canniness KeKe so clearly lacked?—but rather that she just didn't want it as much as others must have.
Nobody knew what happened to the winners, but Mina had a pretty good guess what would happen to her specifically were she to be counted among that number. She was a disgrace, a troublemaker, already a blemish on this iteration because of what she'd done when they called her name. They'd never admit it (after all, wouldn't it look good if she came around and played by their rules after all?), but Mina knew that authority was as vindictive as it was far-reaching. They would march her out of the arena and straight to a ditch and blow her brains out and throw her carcass on top of the rest. No other course of action made sense for them. There was a very very small chance she could avert such a fate by making an immediate about-face, expounding on her mistakes and her past and extolling the true values of patriotism and loyalty, but fuck that. That was just a different flavor of suicide.
The question, then, became what she would do with her final days (or hours, or minutes).
"And you?" she said, returning KeKe's question despite her general lack of investment in the answer. She liked KeKe, and the girl had probably asked specifically to fish this sort of response. "Who are you looking for?"
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
KeKe nodded blankly as Mina affirmed that yes, the recorder was indeed her weapon or whatever. While that did mean the other girl was probably not really like out to kill her, the previous presence of the hook in her hand didn't do much to help relive the pressure that was like a fucking mattress being pressed onto her back. But, play it cool, keep it cool. If she just acted like everything was chill, nothing would be chill, but then she could deal with the shit as it happened around her, and try to make the best of it. Wasn't going to kill, no, no, no, unlike some of those patriotic racist boys who saw this as the time to enact their weird-ass power fantasies, but to stay sane inside insanity or something like that. It'd be hard, especially if she kept on being hounded by people she honestly had no time for back at school, but she could manage. When did KeKe not?
"Oh, no one?" She asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "You being serious 'bout that?" It was an answer that did take her aback, but just a bit. Didn't Mina have her own squad of other people who were rich as all hell and then decided to go against the government? Like, the "rich but really hating my wealth" kind of people. KeKe knew that she would probably never understand why that would be so bad, but she wasn't Mina, and so she was not an impulsive-ass biatch. She guessed Mina didn't have to justify her own answer, though, even if she really wanted to know the reasons why. The reasons were there, plain as day, of course, but she wasn't about to say them out in the open.
Maybe they were more reasons for her rather than the other girl, but one thing was probably true: Neither of them wanted to see their friends die. It was selfish, but if only one asshole was about to live, there was no way the military would allow the winner to look like her or another one of her posse; it was only going to make things harder for them if they allowed themselves to get bogged down by grief, right? Had to keep pushing on, as if nothing had changed. Even if everything had changed. From the late-night movie marathons to the warm family dinners. None of it was the same, but they had to pretend that was how it always was.
KeKe hoped that if (or more likely, when) she ended up dying here, that her friends would remember her. Maybe even her enemies, too. Just someone to know who she was, what she did, her efforts to try in spite of it all. She wished that it would be in a relatively more positive light, because no one really wanted to look like the villain, but that was probably unlikely. Didn't mean she couldn't try, but just unlikely. Just a bit.
"Oddly enough, in the same boat as you," KeKe looked back at Mina, lips pursed but gaze unmoving. She gestured at the space around them, gesticulating sort-of wildly. "Made a lot of enemies, and if I go after my friends?" Mina had to know what she was really talking about. "They'll go after them, too."
That didn't really help her mood much, speaking about the issues of going after her friends. Realizing that half of her argument was made to just support her ego, and that she had done the verbal equivalent of a car spinning in a circle, not moving backwards or forwards. It was weird as fuck, and didn't really make for any meaningful progress. Wasn't the most uplifting thing to think about, but it was one of the most true. Spending her time wandering around with an unfriendly acquaintance wasn't normally the most pleasant experience, but it was better than having her friends die in front of her.
"Wanna just stay here, shooting the shit?" She smiled at Mina, but it was a bland and flavorless one, more to appear friendly rather than anything else. "Don't know much else to do, other than getting killed or something."
"Oh, no one?" She asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "You being serious 'bout that?" It was an answer that did take her aback, but just a bit. Didn't Mina have her own squad of other people who were rich as all hell and then decided to go against the government? Like, the "rich but really hating my wealth" kind of people. KeKe knew that she would probably never understand why that would be so bad, but she wasn't Mina, and so she was not an impulsive-ass biatch. She guessed Mina didn't have to justify her own answer, though, even if she really wanted to know the reasons why. The reasons were there, plain as day, of course, but she wasn't about to say them out in the open.
Maybe they were more reasons for her rather than the other girl, but one thing was probably true: Neither of them wanted to see their friends die. It was selfish, but if only one asshole was about to live, there was no way the military would allow the winner to look like her or another one of her posse; it was only going to make things harder for them if they allowed themselves to get bogged down by grief, right? Had to keep pushing on, as if nothing had changed. Even if everything had changed. From the late-night movie marathons to the warm family dinners. None of it was the same, but they had to pretend that was how it always was.
KeKe hoped that if (or more likely, when) she ended up dying here, that her friends would remember her. Maybe even her enemies, too. Just someone to know who she was, what she did, her efforts to try in spite of it all. She wished that it would be in a relatively more positive light, because no one really wanted to look like the villain, but that was probably unlikely. Didn't mean she couldn't try, but just unlikely. Just a bit.
"Oddly enough, in the same boat as you," KeKe looked back at Mina, lips pursed but gaze unmoving. She gestured at the space around them, gesticulating sort-of wildly. "Made a lot of enemies, and if I go after my friends?" Mina had to know what she was really talking about. "They'll go after them, too."
That didn't really help her mood much, speaking about the issues of going after her friends. Realizing that half of her argument was made to just support her ego, and that she had done the verbal equivalent of a car spinning in a circle, not moving backwards or forwards. It was weird as fuck, and didn't really make for any meaningful progress. Wasn't the most uplifting thing to think about, but it was one of the most true. Spending her time wandering around with an unfriendly acquaintance wasn't normally the most pleasant experience, but it was better than having her friends die in front of her.
"Wanna just stay here, shooting the shit?" She smiled at Mina, but it was a bland and flavorless one, more to appear friendly rather than anything else. "Don't know much else to do, other than getting killed or something."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Mina honestly considered KeKe's offer, though not for as long as she could've. It made so much sense. The other girl was also not seeking anyone, to Mina's vague surprise; KeKe was pretty upfront about about the fact that a lot of people didn't like her, and that she didn't want to inflict any associative enmity upon her friends (and Mina was absolutely acutely aware of the implications of that statement regarding where she sat vis-à-vis KeKe, since clearly her protection was not on the other girl's mind). So then, the two of them could just sit and talk and try to make the best of their time together, for want of anything better or more productive to do. They could spend their time playing games or learning about each other as people. They could find comfort and some little bastion of sanity amidst the madness.
Mina was being offered a connection. More than that, she was being offered a connection with a person she actually fairly well liked, one who'd proven friendly and open thus far. KeKe would probably listen to her. She could have a relationship something like what she'd been craving when she spoke into her recorder, something like what she'd imagined cultivating at posthumous distance with some unknown who might well not have cared. And maybe all of that connection and humanity and meaning would make their inevitable deaths a little easier on both of them. They could push that horror, that despair, that pain and suffering down the road just a little bit more. They could stall it out.
But would it really be like that? The other way Mina looked at it, she'd be sinking into a comfortable nothingness. She could stay with KeKe and talk until they died and that would be stagnation, acceptance. It would be its own form of suicide just as clearly as turning patriot. And really, wasn't death—literal or metaphorical—the most important thing to put off?
"Thank you, but no," Mina said. She planted a hand on the top ledge of the booth, raised her right foot to stand on it, and then pushed off, vaulting over to the other side just like she'd imagined doing had KeKe turned hostile and pulled a gun. It wasn't a super clean movement; she was used to squeezing all possible mobility out of a skirt but some things were still awkward. Nevertheless, she didn't land too heavily and didn't skewer her ass with the hook, so everything was just fine.
"I have to go get killed or something," Mina said, giving KeKe a nod but not a smile, and started for the exit of the building.
((Mina Mashall continued in Exploring))
Mina was being offered a connection. More than that, she was being offered a connection with a person she actually fairly well liked, one who'd proven friendly and open thus far. KeKe would probably listen to her. She could have a relationship something like what she'd been craving when she spoke into her recorder, something like what she'd imagined cultivating at posthumous distance with some unknown who might well not have cared. And maybe all of that connection and humanity and meaning would make their inevitable deaths a little easier on both of them. They could push that horror, that despair, that pain and suffering down the road just a little bit more. They could stall it out.
But would it really be like that? The other way Mina looked at it, she'd be sinking into a comfortable nothingness. She could stay with KeKe and talk until they died and that would be stagnation, acceptance. It would be its own form of suicide just as clearly as turning patriot. And really, wasn't death—literal or metaphorical—the most important thing to put off?
"Thank you, but no," Mina said. She planted a hand on the top ledge of the booth, raised her right foot to stand on it, and then pushed off, vaulting over to the other side just like she'd imagined doing had KeKe turned hostile and pulled a gun. It wasn't a super clean movement; she was used to squeezing all possible mobility out of a skirt but some things were still awkward. Nevertheless, she didn't land too heavily and didn't skewer her ass with the hook, so everything was just fine.
"I have to go get killed or something," Mina said, giving KeKe a nod but not a smile, and started for the exit of the building.
((Mina Mashall continued in Exploring))
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
"Didn't need you anyways, bitch," KeKe called out as Mina left the market, already half out the door. It should have been easy to pretend that this wall just back in Denver, just another in her bag of insults, sassing out another irrelevant bitch, and just move on with her life. Strut past them in the hallways, holding her head high, and simply not caring.
This wasn't Denver, though, and the words that had come out of her mouth had no real meaning, no real force behind them. They were empty and full of nothing but air, a breath blown into existence just to be crushed by a car. She could have tried to make an angry face, or roll her eyes, but all she did was watch as Mina left, face blank, eyes staring. Maybe it would've been easier to run after her, try to convince her that she really had meant it all, that something could be done here, but again, an empty balloon with no air. Not enough left in the tank to just go and do that, and hadn't she admitted it earlier when attempting to convince the other girl to stay? The fact that she didn't exactly care about her safety?
Bitch, bitch, bitch. Of course she had to want to get all buddy-buddy with that bitch, try to make friends, and of course the bitch goes up and leaves her, just like the bitch she was. Of course of course of course she did, that was all they were - She couldn't keep this up, could she? KeKe could try to pretend all she wanted, call out bitches and hoes all she wanted to do, but no, that was not just any bitch, it was Mina. Mina who proved to be a semi-decent human being, who proved to not be a flaming garbage ball of fire and shit, even if she still seemed kinda weird. Returning back to how things were in Denver would be the easy way to go out, finding people to just ramble and ramble and ramble on with, but she wasn't sure if she could just go to things being like that.
She had a duty to live, didn't she? At least try to get out of here, for Libby, for Mom and Dad, even if they still sometimes couldn't seem to get it through their thick-ass skulls how bad things were. Well, if she did get to the end, a cap'd probably get capped in her ass, but maybe there could be something else she could do. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe it was if she got to the end of the fucking yellow brick road, she'd find nothing except a shallow grave for her to fall into and die in.
Her nails digged into the palm of her hand, as she still stood alone in the middle of the stalls. Couldn't just stay here and waste another moment hoping for people to come to here, had to go out and do something. Even if her heart hurt with every step of the way, the more fake venom she had to inject into her words. KeKe was fly, was even levitation, and she could conquer all of this shit. Just had to start small, and work her way up from there.
KeKe exited the building with a new purpose in her step, heels still clacking against the floor. Her stun gun was now gripped tightly in her hand, and with the addition of some waders, her duffel was bulging quite a bit. Mina had given some good advice, yeah, but she still wasn't gonna go switch any time soon.
Still best to keep them, though. Not everyone was going to be as cryptic, but not everyone was going to be as not trigger-happy about the whole killing business as Mina. A girl had to be prepared, after all.
((KeKe Baker continued in The Taste of Freedom))
This wasn't Denver, though, and the words that had come out of her mouth had no real meaning, no real force behind them. They were empty and full of nothing but air, a breath blown into existence just to be crushed by a car. She could have tried to make an angry face, or roll her eyes, but all she did was watch as Mina left, face blank, eyes staring. Maybe it would've been easier to run after her, try to convince her that she really had meant it all, that something could be done here, but again, an empty balloon with no air. Not enough left in the tank to just go and do that, and hadn't she admitted it earlier when attempting to convince the other girl to stay? The fact that she didn't exactly care about her safety?
Bitch, bitch, bitch. Of course she had to want to get all buddy-buddy with that bitch, try to make friends, and of course the bitch goes up and leaves her, just like the bitch she was. Of course of course of course she did, that was all they were - She couldn't keep this up, could she? KeKe could try to pretend all she wanted, call out bitches and hoes all she wanted to do, but no, that was not just any bitch, it was Mina. Mina who proved to be a semi-decent human being, who proved to not be a flaming garbage ball of fire and shit, even if she still seemed kinda weird. Returning back to how things were in Denver would be the easy way to go out, finding people to just ramble and ramble and ramble on with, but she wasn't sure if she could just go to things being like that.
She had a duty to live, didn't she? At least try to get out of here, for Libby, for Mom and Dad, even if they still sometimes couldn't seem to get it through their thick-ass skulls how bad things were. Well, if she did get to the end, a cap'd probably get capped in her ass, but maybe there could be something else she could do. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe it was if she got to the end of the fucking yellow brick road, she'd find nothing except a shallow grave for her to fall into and die in.
Her nails digged into the palm of her hand, as she still stood alone in the middle of the stalls. Couldn't just stay here and waste another moment hoping for people to come to here, had to go out and do something. Even if her heart hurt with every step of the way, the more fake venom she had to inject into her words. KeKe was fly, was even levitation, and she could conquer all of this shit. Just had to start small, and work her way up from there.
KeKe exited the building with a new purpose in her step, heels still clacking against the floor. Her stun gun was now gripped tightly in her hand, and with the addition of some waders, her duffel was bulging quite a bit. Mina had given some good advice, yeah, but she still wasn't gonna go switch any time soon.
Still best to keep them, though. Not everyone was going to be as cryptic, but not everyone was going to be as not trigger-happy about the whole killing business as Mina. A girl had to be prepared, after all.
((KeKe Baker continued in The Taste of Freedom))