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| Time is a Storm; and we are in its eye | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 17 2018, 10:32 AM (26 Views) | |
| lonesomedrifter | Feb 17 2018, 10:32 AM Post #1 |
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Sexual Magneto
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The trees around her, large and thick, their branches reaching up, bare and naked without their leaves, looked like twisted and knotted broken bones. The grass underneath her was wet and slick, raindrops still clinging to the tips. There was the musty damp smell of nature, a refreshing change from the normal dry heat and endless dirt. A heavy wind whooshed past with a sound like waves crashing upon the shore. Rebecca clambered up a small hill, her boots squelching in the fresh mud. She adjusted her shotgun on her back, walking slowly so as not to slip. Coming to a stop at a thick oak tree, she sat in the dry patch near its base. Becky hadn’t been hunting all winter, surviving off scrappy meals from Bobo’s, but the air was fresh and brisk today and a winding relaxing walk eventually turned into something more productive. She wasn’t the best at this, lost patience too easily, tended to try her luck before the moment was right, but this time would be different. She’d get something. She wrenched the duct tape off her shotgun and the barrel dropped. Empty. When you had lived for as long as she had a little dulling of memory was to be expected, but she’d hardly kill anything with an empty gun. She sighed, swung her backpack off into the dirt beside her and dug around in the pockets. Lifting out objects one by one, she stopped as she grasped the medicine bottle. Rolling it around in her palm, examining the partially scrapped off and faded label, something-opram was all she could make out. That certainly wasn’t was in the bottle. Whoever had dropped this on the floor of Bobos after the fight was obviously a bit of a medication connoisseur, or greedy, or stupid. The lid lifted off with a pop and inside there was a pile of rainbow coloured pills of all shapes and sizes, a pick and mix of narcotics. Pouring a few out into her hand, she could recognise some of them, aspirins, Viagra, paracetamol, even a few valiums, but some of them were completely alien to her. She wouldn’t be the one to test them, but they might have their use someday. Pouring them back into the bottle and setting it aside, she rummaged through her sack again, finally coming up with a loose shell, which she jammed into the barrel, and then wrapped the wad of tape that kept it together back around. A faraway bark punctuated the air, along with the piercing shriek of a bird. Grabbing her bag, she set off in its direction slowly, cradling the dodgy gun like it was a new-born. As she crept as quietly as she could to a clearing in the trees, she spotted the source. A mangy mongrel stuck close to the trees, snout raised, baring its teeth at the sky. Overhead a huge bird swooped and dived and swooped back up, cutting a menacing figure against the blanket blackening sky. While the bird was big, Becky doubted it could lift the dog. It seemed to be a rad-tailed hawk, maybe about 3 feet tall, claws sharper than its eyes. But then she noticed the real prey. Shivering, mewling next to the mongrel, a small pup, maybe only a month or two old. The mother stood in front, ready to pounce on the hawk as soon as it went for its prey. Becky lifted her gun up and rested it on the rock she was crouching behind. The hawk dropped down and landed in the centre of the clearing, its feathers rough and rustled, a deep dark crimson colour. It screeched at the mother. The mother growled back, rough as sandpaper. The hawk flapped its wings and then flung itself forward. BOOM The hawk pirouetted in the sky and tumbled into the mud with a sickening squelch, its left wing torn in half by the blast. It shrieked and tossed around, attempting to right itself, but the mother leapt on it and sunk her teeth into the neck, snapping it without hesitation. Lifting the dead bird up in its mouth like a wet towel, she started to lurch back to the pup, turning to look at Rebecca, still holding the gun in her hand, smoke hanging in the air around her face, the smell of melting duct tape in her nostrils. It paused and stared. Becky lowered her gun, swinging it back over her shoulder, and watched as the pup and mum sauntered away into the trees with their meal. |
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Edward Fairfax The III Level: 2 SPECIAL: 3.7.3.9.7.8.3. Armour:Crude Post-War formal outfit, Breaking Bad Chem Suit Weapons: The Phazer, Lead Pipe, Golden Glory (Tier 1 GC Revolver) Inventory: Courtroom Lunch, Afterburner Gum, Bricklayer's Fan Package Rebecca Delacroix Level: 2 SPECIAL: 7.8.4.8.4.4.5 Armour: Duster Coat Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Hatchet Perks: Guardian Angel Misc: Medicine Bottle (Mixed), Blonde Wig +15 BT Reputation | |
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11:33 AM Jul 11