Realistic or Modern Witness: Empty Sky

[welian]

W I T N E S S

WARNING. WARNING.

witness the angels as they fall to earth​

CRITICAL FAILURE OF SHIELD COMPONENTS.

see how they struggle in this odd world​

REPEAT. CRITICAL FAILURE OF SHIELD COMPONENTS.

to find themselves​

IMMINENT DESTRUCTION. EVACUATION RECOMMENDED.

to discern enemy from ally​

REPEAT. IMMINENT DESTRUCTION.

what will become of them​

EVACUATE NOW.

an empty sky knows not​

IN CHARACTER

OUT OF CHARACTER

PROFILES

SETTING

 

[welian]

[

pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

When Custodian SV756 rolled off its assembly line long ago, it was given a very important job, to pilot the freighters that carried valuable materials between systems. It was deeply integrated into the ship it worked on, and thought of it like an extension of its own body. Sometimes, these voyages carried it past volatile systems prone to fierce celestial weather. Custodian SV756 relished these challenges, as it was considered a mark of highest honor to successfully navigate the freighters through vicious magnetic storms.

Unfortunately, many good Custodians have been lost to the abyss of space.

“Destruction imminent. Evacuate now.” The calm, artificial voice was currently the bane of Custodian SV756’s existence. It beeped and chirped angrily as a swarm of nanobots reconfigured its arms into a crowbar.

“Evacuate now.”

The siren blared, the lights flashed, and the ship groaned as it overcorrected back into the original flight path. SV756’s crowbar did the trick though, and it was able to pry the hatch open just enough for the others to retreat into the main ship.

All but one.

You must evacuate.

That is not my mission.

“Evacuate now”

SV756 flailed its crowbar-arm, gesturing to the emergency broadcast speaker mounting in the ceiling. Perhaps this one was stupid.

Evacuate! That is a direct order! I am the primary custodian of this ship, and –

The other machine stood its ground.

I do not take orders from you! I am to escort these experiments to – no! What are you doing?!

Custodian SV756 let go of the hatch, and it snapped back into place.

If we stay attached to the freighter, we will strain the ship’s structure. It will never make it home. I am cutting our losses and ensuring my crew returns home.

The disc-shaped cargo pod was released from the belly of the damaged freighter. It floated away slowly at first, and then began to fall faster and faster as the gravitational field of a nearby planet pulled it in.

The last event Custodian SV756 logged was an uncontrolled landing onto an organic planet. The cargo pod crushed a structure. The remains of its chassis were pulled out by a bipedal denizen, and then its optics were covered by a white sheet.

I evacuated.

 

[welian]

[

pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

SOMEWHERE NEAR ORLANDO, FL – 05:37
On an oppressively still and muggy morning with the sun still struggling to break over a hazy horizon, a black Cadillac with tinted windows rolled through a trailer park and up to a small smoldering crater. Scraps of silvery-blue metal were strewn about, broken glass and ceramic shards littered the site. Part of old Mrs. Robinson's trailer was crushed, the half she had been sleeping in. Red strobe lights lit up the street and faded away as EMTs took her to the hospital. Bless her heart, she wouldn't be back for a long time.

The driver of the car rolled down the window, and through dark sunglasses glanced up at a young police officer nervously standing guard over the wreckage.

“I see you have it taped off already. Good work.”

“Ah… thank you, sir. Are you... with the FBI?” The officer leaned over slightly, trying to see the driver’s badge and if he could recognize it. ERA? What was ERA?

The agent driving the car just shook his head as he got out.

“More or less, officer.” He didn’t have the time this morning to elaborate. Things would just be easier this way. A pair of glossy black SUVs rolled up behind the stylish agency car. “My men will take it over from here. Thank you for your work.”

UNSPECIFIED TWITTER ACCOUNT – 07:03
Lololol “satellite” my ass. Ok, gov’t puppets. Whats the REAL story? #aliens #conspiracy #xeno

FOX NEWS BROADCAST – 07:58
"On today's morning news, a mysterious wreck has shown up in trailer park on the outskirts of Orlando, Florida. Questions abound - is this truly a weather satellite fallen out of orbit? Tune in after the commercial break to hear why one expert things it could have been a private drone delivering hard drugs from Mexico, followed by comments from President Trump on what he will do to make our airspace safe from illegal aliens."

Things weren't quite the same after that morning.

 

[JustNicole]

Taylor Quinn IngerssonMobil Gas Station, across the street from the trailer parkMentioned: Syrenrei

The morning commute was taking longer than expected. There had been an early morning pile up on the interstate, resulting in Taylor’s GPS suggesting to take a detour through some back roads. Even if it was only marginally faster, at least they’d not be waiting in a traffic jam during that time. There was also the matter of fuel. The blue Prius was already running low yesterday, and while on the detour they had to stop at a gas station, specifically a Mobile, lest they get stranded on the side of the road miles from any fuel.

Tristan, as the driver, had gone inside to pay for the fuel they were consuming and probably some snacks, knowing him, while Taylor remained outside by the pump, monitoring the transfer of liquids. Taylor took the opportunity to examine himself in the side mirror. Doing a hair flip, he had to part the lengthy strands of black hair from his eyes to see his reflection clearly. Looking back at him, to him, was a young person of either gender at an indiscriminate age dressed in what others, particularly those of the more “conservative” ideology, would think of as inappropriate clothes, given that his solid red sexy zip-up vest was unzipped exposing his chest tattoo and abs to the morning sun. All in all, he was looking mighty good, or at least he thought so. Tristan probably agreed.

Somewhat bored with admiring himself, Taylor turned his attention to new arrivals on the street, as more cars, mostly black, seemed to be entering the taped off trailer park. Already it seemed to be as busy a beehive, people walking to and fro with some manner of authority and importance to them. There was something peculiar about the situation, although Taylor couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A small gathering of people had begun coalescing on the other side of the street on the grass in the small area that existed between the asphalt and tape. Taylor had ignored the occurrence at first, but he had to admit his curiosity was rising. A quick glance and chat wouldn’t make them too late, surely.

Zipping up his solid red sexy zip-up vest and checking both sides of the street before crossing, Taylor leisured the distance separating himself from the gathering, giving a few questionable glances at the attire and seeming socio-economic status of some of the people. It seemed they were residents of the trailer park, or at least their smell indicated that. Hopefully it didn’t rub off on him.

A fairly nondescript bald man turned to nod in acknowledgement Taylor’s entrance to the group. ”Curious about what’s going on, ay?” The man asked Taylor in a gravely accent that sounded like a mixture of southern and perhaps Cajun. Taylor nodded to the man. ”The ‘official’ story is it’s just satellite debris from re-entry. But I’ll tell you right now this shit is alien ma’am. They kept abducting people and the government finally got wise n shot em down.”

Ignoring the wrong gender identification, something that happened to Taylor far too often, Taylor turned away from the man to not show his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he gave a long nod. ”Right...Aliens.” Taylor could only internally shake his head as he surveyed the restricted area from his closer vantage point. Leave it to Florida to bring out the crazies.

 

[kou]

TATIANA BURNWELL

location: trailer park
somewhere near orlando, florida

theme song
x

mood
curious, slightly aggravated, excited​

There were approximately 19 spoons within the kitchen drawer.

28 forks.

10 butter knives.

1 butcher knife.

This was slightly off-putting seeing as there had been a total of 59 utensils which had been reduced to 58 over the course of a day. Tatiana stood in the middle of the dimly lit kitchen, her eyes trained on the glistening backside of the silverware and the corners of her mouth deepened into a frown. 58, why 58? The number alone was enough to set off alarm bells within the confines of her mind and the 19 year old stepped back slowly, her hand resting on the counter behind her and her head tilting as she maintained eye contact with the contents of a drawer. Eventually, the young woman blinked and the alarms seemed to fade as she recalled her mother's last meal, struggling to piece together where the older woman had placed the fork that had been wedged into her spaghetti and sighing in exasperation as she made her way to her mom's room. The sight that greeted her was one of familiarity as she pushed open the door, the devastation of the room contrasting starkly against the cleanliness of the remainder of the house. It was the one thing her mother would not allow her to change and the thought often taunted and teased Tatiana, convincing her that there could be no balance with the chaos that was her mother as well as the room she inhabited.

It was almost poetic if it wasn't annoying.

Making her way into the darkened room, Tatiana found the relief she had been looking for and it came in the form of a plate which had been carefully balanced atop a book, the fork abandoned on the edge of the ceramic. Grabbing the object, Tatiana carefully inspected it as soon as she was able to exit the room, shutting the door behind her and rubbing a lone thumb over a stain that had embedded itself into the steel. Her mother had done it purposefully in retaliation to the removal of the loofah she had purchased last week, yelling at her daughter when she insisted that it broke the common cycle of her usual preference for rags. It wasn't as if Tatiana had been making false claims and this was most certainly overboard, her mind whirring quietly as she set about cleaning the fork to the best of her abilities, returning it to its rightful spot amongst the others and finally moving on with the rest of her day.

Everything else after her confrontation with the silverware in the kitchen was followed precisely and on a rather timely manner (with the exception of her earlier delay) and Tatiana found herself in a rather good mood as she walked home from work, her eyes trained forward as she thought about attempting to cook for her Mom who was most likely busy. It could be a daughter-mother evening and she could possibly even manage to get a response from the wo-

The teenager stopped immediately and gawked at the sight before her, her eyes widening at the presence of men in suits with their accompanying sleek, black cars as well as the small crowd of people that seemed to be practically radiating excitement from their position behind the yellow tape that had been placed to keep others out. Tatiana could not fault the strangers for their enthusiasm however she flinched at the tell-tale voice that began to snake its way into her head.
It always came in the form of her mother.

Wrongwrongwrongwrong. Youdidsomethingwrong. Youdidntwashtheforkright. Youcausedthis. Youcaused this. ALL WRONG.

Shaking off the incessant shrieking that had unfurled within her mind, the girl hesitantly stepped forward, her curiosity getting the best of her. It was fairly obvious that something quite serious had occurred seeing as she had never seen so many people in formal attire when taking into consideration the demographic and she was certain they were FBI..or at least something close to it. What, pray tell, were they doing here in the first place? The girl stopped a few feet away from the crowd of people, the shrieking fading into a nonstop mumble as her interest peaked. Later on, Tatiana knew she would drive herself into a panic attack over the fact that her brain would convince her that she had somehow caused this event but, for now, the girl was just like any other person, reacting to the disruption of her schedule like a moth would to a flame.

This was certainly going to be entertaining to say the least.

 

[JustAlexandra]

Camille Marie Camille woke up amidst bodies, hot and sweaty.

She frowned, pushing one off. It was Heather, who groaned and rolled over, curling in on herself. Camille shook her head, getting up. "That's what happens when you can't handle your liquor" she thought. Tiptoeing around the rest of the sleeping (hopefully) people, she left the room and thumped down the stairs, not really bothering to be quiet anymore. She walked into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker. It didn't take long. "Two sugars, one cream," Camille tiredly mumbled to herself as she made up the coffee. It was ungodly early, at least for herself, but drinking tended to make her wake up early the next day regardless of her level of hangover. She grabbed a bottle of tequila, pouring a bit into her coffee. People called her crazy, but nothing worked better to get over a hangover than more alcohol. She sipped on it, holding it close to her nose and breathing deeply. It was horribly sweet, having been made from a donut flavor Keurig, but that was just the way that Camille liked it - sweet enough to give you diabetes. She attempted to turn on TV that was hung on the wall of the kitchen. The beach house her parents had gotten her and her friends was pretty fucking nice, and that was a lot for her to say considering she lived in the nicest place she'd ever been to. The floors were marble and matched the counter tops, and there was an olympic pool in the back yard. If that alone didn't say something then she didn't know what did.

After mashing various "on" buttons she finally got a picture to show up on the TV screen, the news being the default channel. Now, normally she would skip over to MTV or E!, but there seemed to be something actually interesting happening for once on the news. Something - a supposed satellite - had fallen onto some random trailer in Orlando. She took another sip of her coffee. "That's what you get for being poor," she thought, raising an eyebrow. She turned around as she heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Evan. "I smelled coffee," he said, looking like he had just woken from the dead. Camille smiled, walking over to him and giving him a kiss, right on the mouth. She held it for a moment before pulling away and looking up at him. "Sorry, coffee's mine," she said, sticking out her tongue at him. She and Evan had a... interesting relationship, to say the least. She didn't really give a shit about him, but he was hot and good in bed and that's all she really cared about.

She nodded to the Keurig, "It's over there," she said and turned back to the TV. It was now showing the inside of the house from a helicopter, and it sure didn't look like a satelite. It looked like...well...she didn't really know what it looked like. She shrugged, turning back to Evan. "So, how did you sleep?" she asked, not really caring for the answer but asking anyway.


created by junie.

[

 

[Xed]

Isabel had not heard the voice until she felt it on her shoulder. "Seriously Isabel?" She didn't need to turn to know that it was Tyler and that his brows were furrowed in that perplexed expression he always made when he was annoyed. "I've been calling you since I walked in and learn to lock the damn door will you?" Setting her brush down, Isabel turned her head, catching a glimpse of her ex husband, yet another reminder that she never loved enough. "I lock it at night."

"Well lock it in the morning too would you. Everytime I come to drop Tyson off for a visit it's always unlocked. I never knew you to be so careless before." She wasn't being careless though, leaving the door unlocked was a deliberate act on her part, to hear Tyler's concern for her even if there were notes of agitation and frustration in his voice as well. Not that she was about to admit that to him. They were through, had been for a long time and she wasn't going to try and return to how things were, not when it had caused him so much pain and grief loving her and not knowing - feeling, that it was reciprocated. Tyler ran a hand through his dark hair as he heaved a sigh. "Just be more careful will you? And spend time with Tyson, talk to him not park him in a corner while you paint like last time. He's been having a rough time at school lately." Isabel felt a pang of guilt as she nodded her head, making sure to mask her emotions. She didn't know how to interact with her son, what she should be doing and she certainly wasn't doing anything right, never had. What a joke she was! A mother who didn't know how to care for her son. A failure. "I have to go now. Next time lock the door and make sure you bond with Tyson. He doesn't see you enough as it is." Tyler checked his watch again and clciked his tongue, letting her know her 9 year old was waiting in the living room as he strode out. Tyson didn't spend enough time with her? Surely Tyler knew as she did that she was a terrible mother? That it was in their son's best interest to see less of her? Sure she had given birth to him but she had not been a mother to him in any other aspect, not in the ways it mattered.

Heaving a defeated sigh, Isabel wheeled herself out of her painting room and into the living room where a boy with dark hair and blue eyes the same shade as her own sat on the couch, flipping through the channels, his expression blank. He'd grown since she last saw him. Taller with a faint hint of sadness in his solemn blue eyes. Summoning up her courage, she wheeled herself slowly towards him telling herself she could do it. She could hold a conversation with her son. Couldn't she? "Hello Tyson." Isabel bit back the nerves as her son turned to look at her and responded with a soft 'hello mother'. The word seemed to mock her. A mother in name yes but not truly one. "Anything interesting on tv?" She hated the question even as it left her lips for she could already tell from the look in his eyes and the way he had been changing the channels quickly that her son had no interest in the shows and his response of 'no' was like having her stupidity slapped in her face. "Your daddy says you have been having a rough time at school." And now she was sounding like an aunt or distant relative. Tyson shrugged his shoulders, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I don't really want to talk about it." The rejection stung and left Isabel sitting there for a few moments trying to think of another question to ask, something to talk about when Tyson broke the awkward silence. "You don't have to talk to me mom. I know you'd rather paint and you're only with me cause dad asked you. I can find something to do until dad comes back so it's ok." These words stung more than the rejection and made her feel helpless. Showed her just how bad a job she was doing. Her own 9 year old could sense her discomfort, unease when she prided herself on giving away nothing and she didn’t know how to respond. She slowly moved to turn around and head back into her room to paint when Tyler's words rang in her ears. "Spend time with Tyson." Biting her lip, she gripped her wheels and inched herself closer to Tyson. "I just finished my painting and I don't have any inspiration on what to paint next." That was a lie. Her half done painting of the jet plane was still sitting on the easel in the other room. "Think you could take me on a walk outside just round the area?" Tyson nodded and rose to his feet, his head just peering over hers as he gripped the handles and wheeled her out of the house.

"What's going on over there mom? Is there some sort of event happening?" It had been some time since they left and though they exchanged words, they hadn't managed to get a proper conversation going, Tyson certainly hadn't attempted to initiate one until now. Looking in the direction her son pointed out, Isabel blinked in surprise at the crowd and shook her head. "Not that I know of. Do you want to go and check it out?"
"Can we?" Tyson asked hesitantly. "Of course." Isabel had a smile on her face but inside she was feeling anything but happy. She was no better than a stranger to her beloved boy. He wasn't comfortable around her. It really was better if he wasn't subjected to these awkward visits to her. Visits that only made him uncomfortable.

"Who are those men in black mom? And what's with that yellow tape?" Yellow tape? Isabel's eyes jolted up as she studied the area. There couldn't have been a murder here in public could there? "I'm going to take a closer look."
"Tyson wait!" The boy had already wandered off however, leaving Isabel on the sidelines, blocked by bodies jostling for space as her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. If this was a murder scene they'd chanced upon she'd never forgive herself. She'd encountered some working with the FBI and they were not something she wanted her son to see. Certainly not up close. Wheeling herself as close as she could get, Isabel craned her neck to see what was beyond the tape, hoping, praying that it was not a dead body.

"Mom! Mom!" Isabel almost jumped when Tyson tapped her shoulder, eyes sparkling with excitement. "They said it's a satellite from space! And those men in black suits, are they from the FBI? Can we take a closer look?" Isabel's brows furrowed as she nodded her head earning her a delighted fist pump from Tyson who maneuvered her through the crowd, closer to the yellow tape and the men in black. Her frown deepened as she got a better look at the men in black. They didn't remind her of any of the colleagues she'd worked with when she was in the FBI but then again she had retired more than a year ago, a lot could have changed in a year. But that didn't make it any less odd to her that she couldn't see even one familiar face. Still the object of her intrigue was no doubt the fallen satellite. It wasn't everyday you got to see one up close and there was no doubt it would make a wonderful if not interesting painting and a part of her couldn't resist the temptation to have a look under cover and find out more even though she knew from her work in the FBI that that was the last thing she ought to be doing.

 

[Syrenrei]

Tristan Noah Muller
Location: Mobile Gas Station, Trailer Park of Missed Opportunities
With: Taylor ( JustNicole )
​

Tristan had volunteered to pay for gas because he just felt it was going to be one of those days. He was by no means a psychic, but every couple weeks he'd wake up just feeling exhausted from a day that hadn't yet begun. Was it those days that something unusually taxing occurred or was it just that his depression of emotions on that day meant it feel more grating? It was a real question of the chicken and the egg. As he walked into the gas station he moved from one old, worn shelving unit to the other. The air conditioning unit in the store audibly hummed as it struggled to push chilly air through the building that wasn't quite yet necessary this early in the day.

After spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the candy, Tristan moved towards the back of the store. His body had slowed down considerably in the last couple years and a lot of the junk food that he used to enjoy didn't just go into a bottomless pit anymore. If he grabbed a handful of Snickers and Baby Ruth every work day he'd sure as hell be seeing it on his midsection. A single indulgence or two? That wouldn't hurt as long as he kept going to the gym. He stepped up to the slushie machine, got a cup so large it might as well been a damn jug, and filled his cup with bright cherry red slush. The size of the plastic container meant this took more than the standard 10 seconds but he was patient. Hell, he could already taste all that ice and artificial flavoring. Once he had finished he put on the plastic dome top, and stuck in a straw. Before he even made it to the front of the store he was already sucking down the unhealthy treat.

The cashier frowned at him but after a swipe of the card for both the gas and slushie, the cashier was happy to turn back to his phone. Tristan stepped outside and... didn't see Taylor. Squinting he spotted Taylor on the other side of the road standing with what he could only presume were some of the economically blessed of Orlando. Tristan sighed into his straw, took another long draw, and started to jog to where the small crowd had started to gather.

"What's going on?" he asked Taylor more than the strangers. While Taylor was dressed a bit more conspicuously, Tristan was wearing his work attire. Long blonde hair had been pulled into a low ponytail rather than allowed to flow freely. His button-up pale blue shirt had been rolled up to the elbows to make driving more comfortable. The look was completed with straight-leg khaki pants, a black leather belt that lacked any embellishments, and black dress shoes. In this group he looked massively overdressed... in fact he looked like he belonged on the other side of the tape.

"Aliens," a lady hissed at him conspiratorially.

Tristan wished he could say he was surprised, but he had heard far, far crazier at the courthouse. Do you know how you got exposed to indigent, ignorant, and insane? Work for the government. When he had first started he thought that the 'sovereign citizens' movement was the most crazy thing imaginable but he had since gotten a true education. Just yesterday he had one of Orlando's finest residents screaming at him across the counter that it was his constitutional right to sue whomever the hell he wanted, whenever he wanted, and for whatever reasons he wanted, and court fees were a 'scam' by big brother. At least he didn't work with the child support division. Those clerks were some goddamned heroes.

"Seen any of the aliens yet, Taylor?" Tristan asked obviously amused before he slurped as loudly as possible on his straw.

 

[Life.]

The rare chance that Sherry was on her day off and something interesting was blowing over at the Orlando Police Station.
"Wait what do you mean the case is being taken over?" A woman with an irritated expression held her smartphone close to her face, in order to clearly hear the words being spoken to her. "Thanks David for the information," she clicked her phone off and threw it onto her passenger seat. Early this morning the police station received calls from a trailer park with descriptions of an odd-looking object crashing onto a trailer. Sherry isn't one to believe in the supernatural so when her co-workers were texting her to inform her, or really tease her since they know how much nonsense irks her, she made her way towards the approximate coordinates of the supposed site of landing.

Sherry simply kept telling herself that it was the detective in her that aroused so much curiosity into the case, and not that she actually had some interest in the supernatural. But now that officers of the station were called off it increased her curiosity even more. The detective was not the only snoop. As she reached the trailer park she saw a steady crowd growing. But that was not the only thing that caught her attention. Looking past the people she caught the small details of black cars and men in suits. Instinctively a scowl formed on her face. As much as she enjoyed working as a detective, Sherry was never fond of the higher-ups in government. She only did what she does because of her love for the community, otherwise she has turned down any promotions to work with branches that lead to the FBI.

Quickly the detective found a spot to park her vehicle and trotted over to the site in her high heels. She made sure that she had her badge in one of the pockets of the black slacks she wore. When she reached the edge of the crowd she could see many residents of the trailer park gossiping and igniting the spark for rumors and fantastical stories. Sherry could see that more people were making their way over to the scene so before it became too cluttered the woman pushed her way through the crowd. The fierce woman made sure to flash her badge to anyone who glared at her or tried to bark a remark at her. Once she was at the front she began looking around trying to grab as many details of the scene as she could.

There wasn't as much activity on the other side of the tape like where the crowd stood, but Sherry saw multiple figures in suits at work. The center piece of the site was covered from the prying eyes. Sherry had her hands clenching the yellow tape, ready to step onto the other side at any moment. But she hesitated there since she was on her day off and the ERA was the one in control. There was really nothing she could at the moment, and if she attempted anything she was almost sure that trouble will be the only thing she would be receiving.

 

[CupAndCough]

----- [color= #cfcfc4]C y r u s[/color] --- [color= #cfcfc4]N e m o[/color] -- [color= #cfcfc4]: " D u k e "[/color]
"Guilty? No. I can't be! "

["Focus. You Have To Focus."] ||

"You'd think that in this day n' age friggin Gee Pee Esss would be standard issue for every car sale? Like, I dunno.. Like something that's the given standard of what a car is now-afucking-days! Fucking..... I dunno. Some damn wheels? Check. A damn Steering Mechanism? Check. Highly valued digital map that you can use to not die in the white trash fucking boonies of the pit of America? No? Oh well, good luck getting robbed by Meth-heads. WHY DID POPS BUY THIS CLUNKA?! " A boisterous and flippant voice berated the intangible used car sale industry. this load opinion was spouted by Cyrus. A really horrid mixture of Eastern United States and Southern Florida mixed into his accent that it became a ear gouging mess once spoken aloud. Thank the Lord that he doesn't slip into often. Only when by his lonesome

He often ranted to himself, the common occurrence was almost mandatory for his alone time. This single person conversation, much like the others, was due to how easily he can turn that agitation into full fury and cutting harassment, he needed an outlet. It was a few miles of driving alone that took his psyche off into the easily agitated world view of that of a disgruntled and unhappy cynic.

The object of this hour's rant? Getting lost on the road with no GPS. This gripe fulfilled the standard issue whine and rage nesting on his tongue, but he is far from finishing his day's worth of whining. The heat was enough to kill cows, the drive was enough for him to go mad and the Willing to attack a certain happening in the world to blow off steam and enjoy himself. Today was an awfully great day.....

It was a few days ago that he was released from the Toon Town. A godsend of a gift being released from a bin of human-formed lost toys and people, something that should nest in the boy's mind a bit more permanently to get his fucking act together. Grouped in with a bunch of Jack-In-A-Boxes, Coocoo-Clocks, Raggedy Anns, and Andys. Sure, he took himself there. Get better. Deal with your issues. You'll feel better . To him it was a big crock for the most part, his issues were worse than ever. No dragon to chase or high flying adventures to not be brutally reminded that this world is so dull, boring, and lifeless.

Worst of all really is that he doesn't wanna remember that he forgot, or at least tried to. His cowardice getting the better of him--attempt to forget his guilty conscious. It was only once. Really a dumb choice to make, he saw the PSAs during health-class. A shot ridden. A high reached. It felt disgusting, unfulfilling, and downright shitty to his system. He'd rather pop pills and smoke weed the rest of his life than touch the needle again.

Sure a glorified cell in tandem with rehab treatments at a "Happy House" wasn't fun, oh good lord it was not, the things he saw were tragic, the stories worse off, it felt as if he was robbed of a partial shred of innocence in the god-forsaken hole (That was way to unkind to call a cell)--however that reminder propelled him forward everyday. To not forget ever again. That sin will be remembered and acted on....That's why this trip is being made in the first place.

"Let's not talk about that anymore. I'm sure they don't wanna hear that...."​

Cyrus wasn't fond of driving that wasn't some sort of competition to show how big the cojones that dangled were. In fact it seemed pretty pointless to him, only made to be useful only to have Snowbird to gawk at the vast roads of nothing. Shit like Ocala or some rathole like Leesburg had. Not that he'd wanna spend a few nights in a dump like Leesburg, he prayed for the opposite. Strange, even the Trailer Parks seemed nicer places than the ghettos, if you could tell the obscure differences.

However it pissed him off driving these roads with hapless snowbirds and Village retirees. Each state has it issues, Florida has a lot of issues given the square feet the state has. Dumb inner city shits like in Miami, The ever present and powerful Florida-Man , and whatever guy shoots at who. Florida is a pretty large as a state, something that annoyed him as well, it had shitty little dirty piles in one spot and some sleazy housing developer making the other dirt pile into a suburban paradise. He could ponder the amazingness of this state, this shitty shitty shitty shitty state.

Speaking of dirt piles.... Why was this angry boy driving towards the Trailer Park? Rodney Keen. It's no secret Cyrus hated that squirrelly basehead, but Rodney heard too much for his own good. Rodney was in the the same graduating class as Cyrus, even if Keen was held back a few times, the relationship they had was purely passing. One or two drug deals, but nothing more. However when it came to blow one's day when Rodney needed a better high, he tried duking it out with Cyrus.. Bad move. Just like his nickname implies "Duke" would fight you and maim you for the sole reason to fight you--Rodney remembered Cyrus after that. And he remembered not to place his dirty fucking junkie hands on Cyrus "Duke" Nemo again.

To Cyrus? Well Rodney was dumb white trash. Always has been, always will be. But he was a great source of rumor in high school due to people ignoring him till he was nothing, something like some toss-away NPC in a videogame or roleplay, Rodney knew shit for being in the same room as important conversation. Rodney had answers or at least the beginning of a story to the smatterings of words he remembered after (Was smoking. but now) shooting up or lighting a rock. This made him valuable to Cyrus and any other punk look for information, and due to the circumstances it seemed that Rodney was extremely talkative too, especially lately with him writing on Facebook about some dumb UFO. Leaving his location on his pictures.

What surprised him the most was that he could afford a phone that could take pictures, Cyrus marveled at the wonders of modern technology. If only cars could be retroactively made to have GPS he'd be a happier man.


"Of course Rodney seen a UFO. It's like a redneck initiation test--Next up Abduction and Anal Probing. Too bad he's getting size 11's in his ass if he decides to spazz out like he did at that one party, man I fucking hate that kid." Cyrus griped about the kid for a bit, as if giving commentary for his actions to an audience or reader. Who'd read your words Cyrus? Are YOU high? Do they REALLY CARE? It's not like there's other people caring about your self-absorbed ass...

"I mean how you gonna expect people to believe you Rodney? Yer a junkie! What good is your word, bruh? Guess there's a silver linin', or whatever Pops says, to this. I know Rodney ain't dead....yet. I just hope I get there before this idiot probably O.D.'s on some alien meth, saves me the trouble of talking to "old friends" again. Fuck. That. No way am I gonna get involved in that again... " Cyrus trailed off, his rant and monologue drifting in coherent babble and grumbles, feeling ever more satisfied than before.

The Trailer Park he was heading to would obviously be the first place he'd look. He remembered coming here a long time ago, during memories of school, Cyrus remembered that some kids once tried tipping a trailer. Fun stuff really. Probably ruined a person's life--but hey least it was fun right? Come to think of it, it was Rodney's home! Home being used loosely here, what man lives in a tin can? Someone not in the least bit noticeable to Cyrus or deserving of his care...
A small notion dinged in his head. It wasn't too sizeable, but it gnawed and began to turn his saliva stale with realization.
Guilt tastes terrible huh? . Cyrus furrowed his brow. Eyes narrowing tightly with such ferocity that it blurred and shook his vision. Teeth gritting against one another, sawing away enamel. Refuse it. Don't accept it. It ain't you.

It was silent, but not in the beautiful little mess upstairs, It ain't me. It ain't me.. It ain't me , He drove faster, realizing he would rather not burn away the day. It was to his surprise that he found something else. On the horizon was black cars, men in suits, and a woman who seem scarier than any thug he fought. " Pretty cute number ain't she?". Dumbass forgot that there was a Federal Operation going on for a moment to gawk at a woman. The epiphany would soon hit him.

"What the fuuuuu, huh?-" Cyrus had stopped his car, shutting off it completely. Inside the inner machinations of his mind began to play a rapid game of 5-dimensional chest called "WHY ARE THEY HERE....?" . Feds. Junkie. Posting online with location spotting. Meth-head. The plays! The complexity! It would otherwise kill a lesser man! No! But not Cyrus, cause dumbass had found something amazing...

His eyes we dark for a moment. Was it shame? Was it annoyance? A revelation?

. . . .DING!​

"Oh no, Rodney. Oh no. C'mon man you just did not step in hot shit right now. I mean---YOU DUMB WHITE TRASH HICK!!" He shouted in his car, slamming his boots on the floor with thunderous fury. Cyrus had come to the conclusion that Rodney had been busted for setting up a methlab or worse, being caught in a drug ring, he may never get his information now. The thoughts only made him angrier and more volatile. What was he to do? He had to get in somehow.

" I bet this dumbass got arrested, thinkin' he got abducted or something. Gonna get his brain scooped or something shit." He scanned the area. His inner fiend came out to play as he spotted the tree line, now what would this mischievous boy be thinking about? His grin widened as he stepped out of his car, locking it--in all honesty he rather someone take it away so he can hotwire one of those nice Federal Agent cars.

"Aliens? Nah Rodney--What you should be looking towards isn't the sky! Oh no! It's the forest!"


Quotes:

 

[JustAlexandra]

Camille Marie Camille wasn't really listening as Evan began rambling on about the night before. Yeah, it had been pretty crazy, but it wasn't brag worthy by her standards. She was watching the TV, not really paying attention, when Evan said "Hey! Isn't that the trailer park we passed?" Camille looked more closely at the screen, scanning the pictures of the supposed "satellite" that had crashed. Charisse shrugged. "I mean, it looks just like a trailer park to me," she said in a flat tone.

"No, look! We totally passed that! It's right down the street. We should go check it out," he said, grinning. "Before everyone else wakes up," he said, sounds of movement coming from above them. Why would Evan want to go to some dirty trailer park to see some crappy piece of metal that couldn't even do it's job of staying in the freaking sky? Why would he think that Charisse, of all people, would want to see that? Maybe she was just doing a good job of seeming like a better person than she was. "I dunno," she said. "It looks like there is already a lot of people there."

"That's why we should go now! If it ends up being something they don't want us to see they'll kick everyone out and we'll never know. This could be history in the making!" Evan looked at Charisse with pleading eyes. She still didn't give a shit, but she didn't want Evan to think she was a bitch. "Okay," she said, ruffling his hair and smiling. "Let me put on something really quick." She ran up stairs, pulling some shorts and a shirt from her bag. She put them on - not caring she was in front of about three people, and came back down the stairs. "Okay, let's go."

It only took a few minutes to get to the trailer park. Evan had been right, they had passed it on there way to the beach house. She vaguely remembered it now that they were entering it. She wasn't so sure about this, there were a lot of people - including cops. Pushing there way to the front of the crowd, they managed to get a good look at the trailer.

You couldn't see much. The roof was caved in but you couldn't see what had done it. It seemed that the woman who was crushed was still inside the house, as EMT were surrounding the place. Being there gave her a funny feeling. She frowned, watching the men talk. There were FBI agents there, as well. Or, what she assumed was FBI agents. She had never seen them in real life. This was all getting really suspicious.

created by junie.

[

 

[The J]

Peter was wet, tired, and aching. Midnight surfing had turned out to be a bad idea - with barely any light to see, he couldn't fully make out his own two feet on the board, let alone get a good view of the wave, and town lights by the shore ruined his night vision, ensuring that he couldn't even get used to the dark. Still, there were very few people out, so he didn't have to wait for use of a good wave like he often did at beaches like these.
He told himself never again, but he knew it was only a matter of getting drunk enough when he was next out - he'd had to be at least tipsy just for some friends to convince him to do it.
The board was heavy under his arm as he plodded back to his trailer, but he stopped when he noticed that something was wrong. Somehow he'd missed it on the way into the trailer park, but blacked-out, FBI-looking cars were all over, and people were gathered around a single, crunched-up trailer.
Coming up to look at it, Peter saw that there was a massive tarp thrown over what must've been something falling from the sky, to crash that hard. A plane? A satellite? Aliens? The hell was it? Bits of metal could be seen all around the crash site, but the main section was covered up by the tarp. Men in dark suits surrounded it, and it was taped off, the crowd eagerly wanting a closer look.
He happened to be standing next to a girl, black, with brown dreads that ended in blue, and a baseball cap on top. He turned to her as he asked, "hey, did you hear what this thing is? Looks like a UFO crash or something crazy like that."

 

[wanderlost]

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Inhale.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Exhale.

The constant pattern of her feet against the pavement and her steady breathing allowed Andie to completely zone out the world around her. She was the only person on Earth during this time. Just her, her headphones blaring upbeat hip hop songs, and a winding path through an uncharted part of the forest. It was moments like this when she felt truly at peace. No distractions. No thinking about homework, no thinking about that boy she met at a party a few nights ago and the napkin he gave her with his number on it, just pure, hardened focus on the pattern of thunks and breaths. Andie spotted a clearing up ahead and accelerated towards it, her pattern increasing as well.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Inhale.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Exhale.

Andie had no clue where she was. She had taken a different running path this time, but she wasn't worried. Her run had consisted of 3.4 miles so far. Once she hit 5 miles in this direction, she would turn around and retrace her steps. Of course, in the odd chance she did get turned around, her new FitBit fitness tracker would sync up to her phone and use GPS to navigate her back. As Andie entered the clearing, she turned to continue following the path, but glanced to her right as she was running and noticed a small gathering of people. She couldn't see much, but she just assumed it was some sort of neighborhood party. Except, the mass of people was growing and they weren't really moving. The group was being contained somehow, being held back from whatever was in front of them. Now, Andie never quit in the middle of her run. It messed with her pattern, her focus. But, for some odd reason, maybe it was the change of scenery and the curiosity of being in a new place, but Andie slowed to a stop and walked over to the group.

Her instinct was right: People were standing behind a line of tape, but she couldn't really see why. Pushing her way near the front, Andie whipped her head around when she felt a hand grab a hold of her arm. "Hey sweetheart, why don't you stand back and let the boys handle this one?" A boy, probably not much older than Andie, reeked of body odor and gave her a cringe-worthy and quite frankly disgusting smirk. "Back off asshole." She hissed and shook her arm out of the guy's grasp, who then proceeded to laugh and call out "Woah, easy there sweetheart" as she proceeded to push further into the crowd. Andie shook her head and glanced around at the scene in front of her. Something--she couldn't tell quite what it was--had crashed into one of the trailer homes and the space in front of her was crawling with men in black suits and dark sunglasses. "Hey," She called out to those around her. "Anyone know what went down here?"

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Tiger Brooke
Location: Tiger's Favorite Park
With: Charles and Amelia Smith (NPC Bullies)​

Tiger looked at the sight before him in amazement. The small boy backed away slowly from the deceptively fragile curvature of his creation, letting a content sigh escape his lungs. He observed his masterpiece, a large sand castle. Made from packing in sand with a careful touch and using the plastic tools he had brought home from school, with permission of course, he had finally made an amazing castle. Tiger couldn’t name everything he had sculpted onto the castle, but he was sure that his had gotten the moat down perfectly, having dug almost half a foot into the sand, and he had even managed to lay a small slab of thick malleable sand at the entrance, laying across the gap between the castle entrance and the outside world like a drawbridge ready to accept visitors. And on the top of the tallest tower, in the middle, where the princess waited to be called down by her father, the king. She was up there, toiling all day long on her studies. A bright mind encouraged by her spot in the world and her well meaning father. She was tired, but she was gonna be alright. She could hear the voices down below her room, her father talking to her prince, the man who would take her awa-

Tiger, caught up in his fantasy, could not stop the hand that smushed his beloved tower into the ground.

Coming back to reality, Tiger could hear distant laughter quickly approaching. He looked around and realized, no, it was not approaching him, his mind was coming back to the playground, his kingdom having been destroyed. A taller boy and girl stood before him, there eyes alight with dangerous mirth that made Tiger frown. His frown deepened and panic began rushing through his veins. His eyes clenched, but his hands stayed relax. He could feel the familiar sadness running through him, and while anger might accompanied it in the past, it was held back by his resignation. Getting into a fight with Charles and his sister would do nothing but encourage them. This was not the first time they had destroyed his sand castles, although it could be considered rare that they had done so out of school. Much like Tiger’s own mom had done, Charles and his sister’s parents must have kept them out of school after that big hubub at the trailer park. Parents could be so paranoid, sometimes.

“Hey, Tiger, you still playing in the dirt,” Charles asked with a friendly voice that mocked him with the subtle knowingness of what he had done. His sister, Amelia, giggled behind him. They were both older than him and knew it.

Tiger shook his head, but continued sitting in defiance, “Not anymore. What do you want, Charles?”

Charles smiled the same way he did when he lied to the teachers at school, “Well, our mom kept us out of school today because something happened at the trailer park. Amelia and I, wanted to know if you wanted to come with?”

Tiger frowned and sent a inquisitive eye to the Smith siblings, “You want to go see what happened?”

Amelia looked at him like he was stupid, while Charles held out a hand to help him up, “Yep, we’re pretty sure something awesome happened there. We have a cousin who lives nearby and he came by this morning and wouldn’t stop talking about it. You in?”

Out of reflex, Tiger had gripped the hand lent to him and began pulling himself up, “Well, I don’t know if-,” Tiger felt the rest of his sentence fly out of his mouth as a gasp as the hand was snatched away, letting Tiger hit his own sand castle hard, ruining the work that Charles and Amelia hadn’t already taken care of.

Looking up, Tiger’s eyes flashed with fear as the two bodies of the Smith siblings loomed over his prone body. Charles and Amelia had always been tall for their age, and to the younger Tiger, they positively towered over him. Charles held out his hand again, Tiger staring at the appendage in hesitation. Charles and Amelia said nothing, but the menace crept along at a steady pace, each second he waited elevating it.

Soon, Tiger quietly placed his hand in the palm of Charles, widening his eyes in surprise as he was pulled up with a jerk of Charles’s hand. The two siblings stared at Tiger, waiting, before the younger boy nodded, looking away in the direction his mother's house, not too far away. Turning, Tiger began to follow the siblings as they began to make good pace, heading towards the trailer park. Regardless of the reasons behind going, Tiger couldn’t help, but feel like things were going to change for him soon, and regardless of whether it was a bad or good change, he was excited to see where the world would take him.

 

[JustNicole]

Collaboration ( JustNicole & Syrenrei )
Taylor Quinn Ingersson and Tristan Noah Muller
Location: Trailer Park of Missed Opportunities->Mobile Gas Station->Woods of Trash->Lake of Grey Grime

It seemed like not more than a minute had gone by before Taylor heard a familiar voice speak from beside him. There was no need to turn and identify the speaker. Taylor would have recognized Tristan’s voice across a stadium. Taylor, though, decided to turn his head anyways if for no other reason than to counter Tristan’s playful jab with a parry of his own. “Yeah, I think I saw one. Tall, long blonde hair, with an edgy brooding look about them like a sullen vampire. Ring any bells?”

“Oh, you’re hysterical,” Tristan intoned with a roll of the eyes. He crossed his arms more out of habit than of actual annoyance. “Are you done trying to spot the yeti’s distant cousins from another star or did you want to stick around a little longer? I’m getting another slushie if we’re staying.” With that he sucked again, loudly, on the chilled beverage as a couple onlookers to the crash site gave him irritated glances.

“Come on.” There was an exasperated end to Taylor’s statement like an annoyed child. “Don’t you want to see something that was actually in space? How cool is that? In fact....” There was a pause for a moment as gears grinded in Taylor’s head, a look that Tristan knew. “I bet we can get our own little chunk of space.”

If it was just Tristan he would have gone to work in his little economical car and not given ‘spaceship’ and ‘aliens’ another thought. The fact Taylor was so invested in obtaining some piece of burnt out metal did matter to him, however, so he rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug as he nursed his straw. The cherry liquid was already staining his lips a bright red. Had he not been so well built or professionally dressed it might have made him look more adolescent. ”If you want to. I’ll assume that the officers don’t suspect it’s radioactive or harmful in any way if they are wandering around in cheap suits,” he mused, ”so I don’t see any harm in it.”

With a fist raised high in the air, Taylor began to cheer. “YE-” He cut himself off immediately, realizing that his loud fistpumping would certainly have drawn the ire of everyone else around them. Not only did he not want to be rude and disruptive, but they also had to find a piece of this debris, hopefully without anyone beating them to it first. Taylor settled for a smaller, subdued fist bump next to his waist and a whispered “Yes!” He began to slink backwards from the crowd slowly to the car, tapping Tristan on the shoulder to follow. Taylor had some ideas on how to proceed, but he sure wasn’t going to tell everyone first.

Tristan wasn’t sure why Taylor had suddenly engaged ninja mode but he followed along diligently. The enthusiasm his room mate had made this out to be like visiting England and running into the Queen; frankly, he wasn’t sure how a little piece of space junk could live up to Taylor’s hype. He kept his doubts to himself, however, and faithfully trodded behind back to their car.

Back the car, Taylor crossed to the the other side of the Red Prius and leaned forward on the roof of the with his elbows to get in closer to Tristan. “I didn’t want to say anything because one of those alien theorists might try and grab it first, but I’m pretty sure that thing left some debris on the way down. And if my hunch is correct, it passed over the gas station before crashing the trailer park. So...if we go looking behind the gas station we can hopefully find ourselves a nice piece of satellite debris closeby that isn’t taped off yet.” Pulling back from the roof, Taylor leaned up against the side of the car with his back to Tristain. “Just think about it...our own piece of space,” Taylor wishful dreamed.

”Well if you want to get it before anyone else gets the same stellar idea,” Tristan began with a wry grin at his own joke, ”we should get going.” It didn’t seem prudent to try to drive the Prius into the woods behind the gas station so he presumed they’d be walking. He considered moving the car to a parking space but this gas station wasn’t exactly bustling with activity so it seemed doubtful anyone would mind it sitting at a pump just a little bit longer. Tristan didn’t understand Taylor’s fascination with space but he indulged him. It was so vast, so cold, and so… empty. He didn’t understand the appeal.

An audible groan escaped Taylor’s lips at the rather terrible joke. Really, it wasn’t that bad a joke, but Taylor would never tell Tristan that. It was almost something like a sport between them, Tristan would try and tell the worst jokes possible to see what would the ilict the loudest groans possible. The joke about the rabbit and the turtle a few days ago had a much louder groan.

“Yeah, let’s go find us some aliens,” Taylor winked at Tristan as he mocked those crazies from the crowd.
Resting behind the gas station was a small forest of trees, largely some old oaks. Immediately next to the gas station had the smell of cigarette butts, the products of many gas attendants over the years. Just beyond the trees rest the edge of a small lake. Taylor and Tristan started with area just beyond the range of the cigarette butts, hopeful that some small chunk of the satellite had broken off.

“You know,” The silence was broken as Taylor attempted to capture Tristan’s listening attention. “It’s only a few weeks away til Europe,” Taylor idly remarked as they continued to comb through the timber.

”Yes,” Tristan responded as he tried to dislodge something from his shoe. Belatedly he recognized what it was and wished he hadn’t; a used condom. Suddenly the slushie was losing some of its appeal. It took a few moments to force the disgusting memory out of his mind before he realized the topic that had been brought up. ”It will be nice to just get the hell away from work for a couple weeks, and getting out of Orlando… to Europe!” Tristan was rarely this animated or excited about anything but foreign locations? They had seemed as fantastical as his a fairy tale when he was growing up. The reality of standing on another country’s soil, hearing different languages, hell, even being somewhere it could snow was his trip to the moon. ”I won’t miss places like these at all while we’re over there,” he muttered as leaned down to roll up his pant legs. Taylor could go to a coffee shop after they were done exploring but he still had work to go to.

Taylor reached over on the ground and picked up something black. A piece of space perhaps? He felt the texture before realizing it was nothing more than some shredded up piece of an old tire who knows how many years old. “Yeah, I’m hoping it will be a life changing experience. You know they say that Europe is where-” Taylor cut himself mid sentence, realizing that as much as he wanted it, it didn’t seem like Tristan did yet. “Ah forget it.” Trying to distract himself from that somewhat upsetting train of thought, Taylor eyed the lake, estimating the distance and arc required, before pulling his arm back and throwing the piece of tire high into the air where it landed with a “Plop!” in the lake obscured by the gaze of the branches of a tree next to the lake.

Walking down to the lake’s edge to see the ripples cascading across the once restful surface, Taylor’s eyes lit up as the lake came into full view. “TRISTAIN! TRISTAIN! I THINK WE’RE IN BUSINESS!” Taylor exclaimed in glee. Pointing out towards the lake a few dozen feet, Taylor elaborated, “There! Don’t you see it?! That white metal piece floating on the lake? It’s so thin it looks like it might be some of the hull.”

Tristan knew exactly what Taylor was alluding to but remained silent. It was too difficult to discuss this issue with Taylor because he knew that he was being irrational. He pretended not to notice for the time being as it was a delicate matter to resolve, and this was neither the time nor the place for it. In fact, it was the dumpiest place imaginable to be daydreaming as Taylor apparently was. Shuffling his feet a little, Tristan finished off the slushie with one last echoing shhhhhliiiip before reaching the banks of the lake with Taylor.

Oh, Tristan saw the shiny hunk of something in the lake but he wasn’t convinced it was necessarily even a satellite. Given how absolutely revolting the rear of the gas station was it could be any manner of vile debris out there making Taylor exclaimed in glee. Stand aside Europe, this lake that didn’t even resemble the color blue was taking away Taylor’s breath as if he was a schoolgirl spotting Justin Bieber in the flesh. ”Yeah, I see it,” he admitted skeptically. He pulled off his shoes, then his socks, and continued to strip down to his underwear. There was no way he was wading into filth and then explaining to his supervisor why he was covered in algae, grime, and refuse. ”I’ll go get it for you,” he offered. ”You’ll probably contract some sort of disease if you go in there.”

Blinking for a moment, Taylor continued to stare out in the object’s direction, before realizing he wasn’t paying much attention to his partner. ”I didn’t realize you were such exhibitionist, Tristan,” Taylor teased with a flamboyant tone as he walked over up next to Tristan, leaning up against him and running his hand down Tristan’s pecs to his abs. ”I clearly need a nice strong man like you to go and fetch that space debris for me.”

Breaking the comedy, Taylor deadpanned, “But no, seriously, love you for the offer, but I’m not letting you go and get that for me. We can go get it together if you really want. Who knows, it might be heavy as hell if it’s the aliens.” He unzipped his red sexy zip-up vest, placing it next to Tristan’s articles, and took off his shorts leaving him also there in his briefs.

This is such a bad idea, Tristan told himself. Orlando, some random ass lake near a goddamn trailer park, possibly the home of alligators knowing Florida, and here they were stripped down to practically nothing in the hopes of retrieving a shiny piece of white rubbish. At least he had health insurance. Taylor’s teasing about his noble gesture irked him slightly though he knew it was all done in good humor. ”Let’s go as fast as we can, then,” he stated. Although his face remained its classic mask of stoicism this was making him increasingly anxious. Even if there was no peril from the surrounding area itself, they had to be trespassing, the authorities would probably sweep this area once in the near future, and did he mention the possibility of alligators? ”Grab it, haul it out, redress as fast as we can, and haul ass back to the car to look it over. Agreed?”

”Agreed,” Taylor nodded, adding ”but we should not stop at the car to review it. We can drive a bit more down the road then check it out, in case one of those guys in suits stops by and spots it. Taylor had to admit he was slightly worried about getting into trouble with the law, but the idea of owning a real piece of space? That was high was pretty much overriding his cautious side. What was the worst that could happen if they got caught though? Oops, here we found a piece of your crash here you go.

Tentatively stepping into the water side by side with Tristan, they both took a minute to adapt to the temperature change. Thankfully, this was Orlando, and the water here was already warm with the morning rays. Step by step they continued outwards from the shore until they were about twenty feet away from the object and the water was up to Taylor’s lymph nodes. “Okay, I think we will have to swim out the last few feet here, the lake gets a little deeper,” Taylor warned his friend.

The two of them quickly freestyled the last remaining distance to the debris, Tristan arriving there a hair before Taylor. As Tristan grabbed the edge of the object, Taylor treaded water to the opposite side, positioning himself like he would moving a couch. Wordlessly, the two began to push the object towards the shore. It took less than a minute for Tristan and Taylor to step back onto solid ground, the surprisingly light but cumbersome five by three sheet of metal resting on partly up on the shore.

“Clothes and then car,” Taylor repeated out loud, more for himself than for Tristan.Although the adventure seemed to have gone swimmingly so far Taylor thought, neither he nor Tristan realized that already things had changed for them in that one minute than they could ever hope to imagine. The paths of their lives had been permanently altered all for, as Tristan had thought at the time was a shiny piece of white rubbish.

 

[avira]

Z O Y A - L E E​

STATUS
LOCATION
MOOD
TAGS​

late for work
side of the road
curious
anyone feel free to respond

Zoya zipped around the house, getting her things together and throwing them in a dark leather bag. She tried to clean out her work bag during her days off. Instead, she ended up scattering he belongings through the house. None of them got cleaned - a poorly executed attempt at responsible adulting. Now, she'd found most everything, except her sets of coloured contacts and one of her three makeup bags. Spotting her lens case on the kitchen counter, she dashed towards it stuffed it in the bag. "I'm going now," she shouted over her shoulder as she poked her head in the bathroom. Green make up case, check.

"Should we wait for you for dinner?" Zoya's mother responded from the laundry room in the back of the house. "No, mom," she answered her mother, with a twinge of annoyed angst. She hated feeling like she was still a teenager. Her mother knew Zoya rarely ate dinner at home after work. She and the rest of the royalty liked to go out to eat after their day's work of imitating the world's most beloved princes and princesses.

The girl ungracefully stuffed her feet in her shoes and pulled open the front door. "Bye," she said without looking back. She slammed the heavy wood door shut before her mother had time to respond. Bzzzt, her phone went. 07:25. This was the last of the four alarms she set every morning. It was her you-seriously-need-to-leave-right-the-fuck-now alarm. She'd be massively late if she didn't kick her butt into gear.

Zoya slid into her well used hatchback and hit the gas. She was making some turns a little faster than was safe. Trying to make up time, Zoya thought about taking a shortcut. It went past this trailer park, in a not-so-affluent part of town. Sometimes it was worth taking, sometimes it wasn't. Zoya was feeling lucky today, she knew it would get her to work with time to spare. Confident, she turned off the main road and headed down what was normally a very dead street. 'Shit,' she thought.

Confusion was apparent on Zoya's face. She looked around, wondering if she took a wrong turn somewhere. There was the trailer park, except it looked different. Sort of like someone had moved around the trailers. There were so many cars cluttering the street that traffic was moving slower than a salted snail. Maybe there was a fire? Or a murder? They'd probably only roll out all this tape and bring out the guys in suits if there was a murder, right?

Her morbid curiosity got the better of her. She could just send off a quick text saying she got a flat. That would surely give her a couple of minutes. Zoya pulled her car over as much as she could (not that it mattered in the stalled traffic) and stuck her head out the window, trying to get a better idea of what was going on. Unfortunately, as she did, a group of people seemed to amass right in her view.

"Excuse me, do any of you know what's going on?"

Code by Aukanai​

 

[CupAndCough]

----- [color= #cfcfc4]C y r u s[/color] --- [color= #cfcfc4]N e m o[/color] -- [color= #cfcfc4]: " D u k e "[/color]
"Guilty? No. I can't be! "

[Location: Inside Trailer Park] || The madman's sprint towards the treeline Cyrus made was in short; rather impressive. The sneak's dashes were prime for avoiding the ire of watchful eyes...and escaping it. The boots on the ground left bare any noise, a fact that began to flair Cyrus's ego into levels that harked back to a time of skirt chasing and car-stealing.. Winds rushing past his crazed grin was a nostalgic feeling of thrill. Of danger. Of adventure.

Switches flicked, gears turned, and thieves and crooks made their way--Cyrus was not a simple petty thief in his days, much to the embarrassment and constant ire that he gained from friends and family, no Cyrus enjoyed a score and it's bounty little, The reward was that he did it and that's it. It wasn't about stealing, it was about doing something that the majority dared not to--That threshold of reputation never gotten by the masses, it was special. it took cunning, it took determination, adaptation, and a desire to reach for a sky that seemed ever closer. All these began to rush to him once more, remembering time when the fox always thought of new ways to storm the chicken coup and slinking away to avoid being caught by the farmhands.

Cyrus wasn't a kelpto, nor a serial criminal, he was a boy filled with a desire to destroy the barriers and run in the fields, like some sort of morally skewed Peter Pan. Though don't call him that, Assault might be an old adventure, but it is a fun one to reenact and Cyrus is more than willing to "Adventure" your teeth in....

The sprint turn to a leap. Freedom was fine. No. Freedom was great! Liberation! Pandamonium! What could ruin this for him? What could destroy this wonderful mental barrage of thrill-seeking that was borderline orgasmic? Cyrus knew. Had he desired to acknowledge it.

A leap into a slide into the cluster of trees. A tumble into the woods, and a tuck into a tree's shade. Excuse or not the boy was something else when it came to desiring the wild-child life. Drugs were just the daisy playing, just the simple rummaging around in muck and filth--But this? This threat of incarceration? The extortion? The rage mixed with the adrenaline? It had been too long, so long since this dynamism and braggart-worthy feats....

Crouched against the trees, shadows and critters scaling and enveloping his with a cloak of dark, a ghostly blue eye peered towards the men in black.

"Hah. Whoo. A bit rusty!" The young man panted and whispered his near-boundless giddy, "Still got it though. Jesus, I haven't felt this...Hah. Good, in a grip." His hushed voice began to speak a mixture of aftersex awe and pre-sex determination. How gross. Anyways, the young man swiveled his toothy-smile face towards the trailer park and a word came to him.

"Holy shit!", That's two words, "What a fucking rathole!",The skulking bug housed man spoke, trekking low against the ground he made his way to the first trailer nearest the treeline. Luckily he was out of sight from the Pig-boys, taking the moment he stood fully. Cyrus rudely began peering into the confines of the"home". Nothing in the way of Rodney, however he did come to the conclusion that there was no one home, save for a mass of underwear and B-cup bras he was so keenly organizing to shape and size. Unless Rodney became Rod...

"Fuck what's the girl version of Rodney?" He hissed aloud, [/b]"Rhodesia? The fuck is Rhodesia anyways?".[/b] The keen and ever focused mind was stuck in a battle of wits. Clearly a prioritized battle that took precedence above all else.

"C-Cyrus?", If redneck twang came in flavors this voice would be Paranoid Nuts. A low whisper called to Cyrus, by name even. RUDELY taking the dumbass's focus off the matter of transgenderism and naming schemes. "P-p-personally I like Rhonda.."

Cyrus thought that god had given him a second voice, which spoke to him. Clearly there would be no such thing to ever exist, but nevertheless Cyrus followed his criminal instincts. He dropped down and spun, eyes scanning the immediate area, and there it was...

Rodney. Hiding beneath the trailer besides the one Cyrus was at using his cellphone as a flashlight, "What are you doin out? I heard they locked you up, for all the shit you do it has to be 10 to 15!"

"That's a lot to assume. I mean 10 to 15? I mean don't lowball me, christ. Grand Theft is like what 5 years? I should be pushing a lot more ya know?" Cyrus smirked as he walked low towards the trailer. Suddenly a vicious hand grabbed the young hick by the hair. Some gave up on their follicles while other strands were at the behest of the calloused and strong fingers they were entwined to. The boy was drag out from under the trailer, whimpering as he could not let his voice out.

Cyrus slammed the druggie against the thin metal sheets of the trailer, shaking it slightly, "Afternoon' "Rhonda" " Cyrus's face turned into a crocodile smile, eyes clearly displaying the malice he held deep inside, "We need to talk, where's yer Tin Can. pal?" Cyrus pinned the the boy against trailer, forcing his only escape to be near the Feds. Rodney did not want that.

"Please! K-Keep it down, they dragged of Mr. Cletus off earlier, I don't want that happening to me!", Rodney pleaded his checkerboard teeth and gums let out a hushed voice, "He didn't do nuthin' Cyrus! It's that damn Yew Eff Oh!"

"What? Fine, we'll keep it hush--Besides I didn't expect to find you still here." Cyrus paused for a moment, his mind still attempting to construct human interactions as adrenaline, "Rod you can lie, but yer shit still stink. I bet they are here for your ass. There's no complex method to a meth head", I-huh. Uhm. Cyrus felt proud(?) for that amazing skill of literary mastery. A true avant garde maestro of the spoken word. Sure. That's what happened.


"J-just follow me." He said as he wormed his way out of Cyrus' grasp, "I was hidin' under my trailer." Cyrus furrowed his brows, mouth losing a bit of radiance as his catch took charge and lead the both of them toward the trailer's door. Cyrus followed, if not to gain a bit of an upper hand in knowing where Rodney lived and a more private location...

As the two entered the human-sardine tin, Cyrus was slowly realizing that Rodney was no ordinary meth head. Alien paraphernalia adorned the entire trailer. Bobble-heads, Alien "proof" VHS tapes (come on Rodney go digital.), Alien Sea-Monkeys, and a poster with a weird frisbee that said "I BELIEVE". Rodney began to frantically close his blinds, "Aw man, man! This giant th-thing! Came out the damn sky there and no tellin' what it is! A damn missile? An invasion force? It was damn crazy 'round here Cyrus! They was taken people from their trailers all fucked up like! l-like some cover up! This isn't a safe place--I was wrong. Oh god. W-we have to leave Cy--!"

A maw of fingers clutched Rodney's throat, "AYE UM--" He hacked on his saliva, " Im sor--I'm sorry!" he pleaded as Cyrus made no emotive cue for his attack. Slowly taking him to the furthest end of the trailer. A terarium smashed upon the floor which cause Rodney to yelp in terror. "B-betheny!"

"Rodney. I'm here with questions." Cyrus grew cold for a moment, his eyes entering a heavy and weighty stare, which forced pressure upon the redneck. "I would like some answers. You can give me answers couldn't you Rodney?", Cyrus' voice mocked that of a parent chiding their child, however beatings would still happen if the child did not give an answer.

Rodney nodded, feeling his throat freed from Cyrus's grasp. "I-I'm an open nudie magazine! Got all the articles for ya need buddy haha!" Rodney nervously agreed to the unspoken terms of not being mutilated.

"Gross. Okay I get it. You are some weird fuck living out in some shitty trailer park, but you ain't gotta lie to me about some Methlab exploding. Shit, you tellin' me that a bona-fucking-fide UFO is here? Psh! Calm yourself. It's a drug round up.", Cyrus waved away the nutjob's conspiracy theory. "I want answers about the boys I hung around with."





Quotes:

 

[Rida]

Breathe.

From the way in which sweat dripped from Suzume's forehead and the lovely shade of white her knuckles had turned, it could be deduced with fair ease that the young undergraduate was experiencing a bit of anxiety this fine Orlando morning. Returning to her home town had a nasty habit of giving her the shakes, a phenomenon that began as soon as she took exit 55 on the I-4 W and spotted the merciless Welcome to Orlando sign.

From behind her Jeep sounded yet another irritated honk - the ninth one she'd gotten in the span of a few minutes, actually - but the sound neglected to register in Suzume's brain, as her thoughts had been wholly consumed by pure, unadulterated fear. Upon arriving at her childhood home, not only would she be subjected to the torture that is being forced to play the mediator between her parents, but the two would never forgive Suzume for her spur-of-the-moment dye job. When Su had asked her mother for permission to dye a strip of her hair pink for breast cancer awareness, she had instead been given a 3 hour lecture on the health risks of hair dye - a chastisement that naturally turned to the subject of whether Suzume was grateful at all for her god-given hair, and many similar questions of morality.

Naturally, with her words ringing in her ears to this day, she had no doubt that her mother's reaction to her less-than-natural state of hair would be less-than-ecstatic.

A lot less.

A stacatto set of blaring honks finally removed Suzume from her thoughts, and, unaware of what it is she had done to warrant such a show of hostility, she stuck her hand out the window and raised a middle finger to the middle-aged couple behind her. Her grasp on the steering wheel loosened slightly, and as color gradually returned to her fingers, she glanced at her speedometer and learned she had been driving at 25 miles an hour on a road that permitted 40. Wincing internally, she readied herself to increase her speed, but came to a complete halt at what appeared to be a traffic jam.

The couple behind her audibly cursed when the buildup of cars came into their view, and Suzume couldn't help but laugh at their rotten luck. She herself, however, had agreed to meet her parents at exactly 8 o' clock, and had huffed quite a bit over the phone about her parents' tendency to be late. For her to show up to breakfast tardy would not only be humiliating - it would throw her entire schedule off. Taking into account the hour or so that would be spent berating her about her hair and a multitude of other life choices of hers that they disagreed with, Suzume had calculated that breakfast with her parents would last approximately 2 hours - giving herself just enough time for her ritual 10 o' clock coffee. Now, being late would warrant another fuss from her parents, pushing everything she had planned for the day at least half an hour back.

Great.

The cars ahead of her finally began to move - albeit at a sloth-like pace - and Suzume spotted the cause of the holdup: a growing mass of people at the trailer park. The sheer number of bodies prevented Suzume from being able to catch a glance of whatever it was that had captured their attentions, and as more and more people began to leave their cars to join the crowd, Suzume felt a compulsion to check it out for herself. Her internal clock, ever-ticking, reminded her of her breakfast appointment once more, but Suzume couldn't help herself when the driver ahead of her, wiggled out of the street, parked at the gas station, and joined the mob of people, too.

Parking her Jeep somewhat haphazardly at the gas station, Suzume traversed the length of the street and stopped beside a girl whose hair made an equally as loud statement as hers.² While it wasn't a rare occurrence to see dyed hair such as hers in the whole of Florida, looking solely at the 2013 'Florida Man' meme epidemic, the coincidence still confused the college student. Her confusion did not stop her, however, from inquiring of the woman what exactly happened at the park. It was not until she had turned to respond that Suzume recognized a twinge of something even more off-putting than her hair, something hidden within her expression.

Confusion was there, yes - everyone was increasingly confused about the trailer park predicament. Some hints of worry in the arch of her brows - probably wondering if someone had been hurt. It was what lay past that, just laced throughout the woman's sharp bone structure, just barely veiled, that set Suzume on edge.

It was guilt.

s u z u m e
w a t e r s​

location
mentions
mood​

trailer park
kou
cautious, curious

 

[kou]

TATIANA BURNWELL

location: trailer park
somewhere near orlando, florida

theme song
at night - oscar sundberg

mentions
Rida
The J

mood
nervous, guilt-ridden, peckish.​

"If people wanted different, they'd visit an art gallery."

The smell of cinnamon and paint intermingle and purple hands reach towards a can, bathing themselves in the contents and then withdrawing. From within the room, the whirring of a fan can be heard as well as the 'splat!' of fingers against wood as a young girl takes great care to avoid stepping in the liquid, eyes trained carefully on the tiny splatters of paint that mark the floor as she moves in a circle around a middle-aged man standing in the center of the room. Around them is chaos, books spilling onto the floor from discarded boxes, papers strewn about with no goal to where they would last settle, and a single bed shoved into the corner for later use. This room is obviously that of a child's and the child in particular is too preoccupied with not breaking her rotation that she doesn't notice the slowly whittling patience of her guardian and is too late to see the hand wrapping around her arm, disrupting the track of her movements and dragging her towards the door and into the living room. With a curt "you're distracting me, sit here until I'm finished," the world itself seems to slow down with every passing second and it is then that Tatiana learns of a companion that will be residing with her for a long time.

Guilt.

Present Day:
It does not hit her that she is being spoken to until it is unreasonably late to respond for the sake of looking rude, however, Tatiana allows herself to push aside the growing ferocity of the voices in her head in order to at least acknowledge the man standing beside her. He appears to be in his early 20s and just as confused as any other onlooker and Tatiana attempts several times to clear her throat before giving up and managing a choked "I don't know. I'm going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with....space? At least, that's what I've heard from those in the crowd."

Not bad.

Despite the fact that the younger woman had not broken eye contact since the stranger had arrived could possibly make one uncomfortable but, so far, she hadn't said anything too untoward which she would count as a personal triumph in her book. Deciding that this interaction was enough for the remainder of the day, Tatiana receded into herself once more, the thoughts growing ever so clearer as they voiced their unwanted opinions.

YOURFAULTYOURFAULTYOURFA-

"What exactly is going on?" Could a girl not be mentally ill in peace? Turning once more to face the owner of the voice beside her, Tatiana caught herself as tinges of pink and blue collided and clashed with an outfit that was rather fashionable considering the usual attire that could be found in a place like this. It was as if God himself had thought it funny for the two to bump into each other and the 19 year old studied the other girl, her answer only coming after a solid 2 minutes of staring.

"It would appear, as I informed the other gentleman earlier, that something crashed here...or at least that is what I've been hearing." Gesturing to the people in front of them, Tatiana ended the statement with a wave of her hand, unable to grasp why she was still standing here amidst the voices and the noise and deciding that it was just sheer curiosity that was driving her nearly insane. What a curse it was to almost welcome the familiarity of paranoia that crept in like fog on a rather rainy day. If the whole scenario was true and something had indeed crashed here then Tatiana wouldn't be surprised so much as prepared seeing as she had always made it a note to have a back-up plan for situations such as this which was another vice (or virtue) of the illness that afflicted her mind. The problem remained that the girl still had no clue on how she would go about not inducing a panic attack and decided that if it did come to that, she could simply drown herself.

Kidding.

Perhaps not.

It wasn't a terrible idea.​

TATIANA BURNWELL

 

[The J]

The girl with the dreads stared at Peter, long enough to make him uncomfortable, before she descended into what seemed like a coughing fit. Was she alright? Mentally and health-wise?
After even longer, she finally responded, voice choked and weak. He'd hoped she'd seen something he hadn't, but no luck there. Another girl came by, asking the exact same question. She was pale as anything probably an albino if Peter guessed correctly, and her hair was bright enough to blind a man.
So someone else had guessed space as well. From the sounds of the crowd, it was a common assertion. Still, there wasn't much to go on, and Peter was tired and aching. He needed a warm, cosy bed and a long sleep.
On the way to his caravan, he passed by the old pool. No one with any interest in a lack of disease went in there, and Peter was no exception... until he slipped.
A tile broke free under his foot, slipping into the pool with his right leg's weight on it, sending Peter to the floor whilst one shin made it into the murky depths before he managed to catch himself on the other side, immediately pulling his leg out of the pool. He could see a streak of red as he did so and felt the pain of the cut the sharp broken-off edge had given him. He could swear he saw something else on the leg, but it must've been just the water. The disgusting, murky water.
He hissed in pain as he sat back to have a look at it. Damn, the thing would need cleaning up and a big plaster put on it before he went to bed. Just as he'd been looking forward to it...
A few minutes spent cleaning and covering the cut later, Peter finally undressed and collapsed into bed, covering himself in the warm sheets, before falling into a deep slumber.

 

[wanderlost]

Satellite fell from space...Strange crash site... Aliens...North Korea sent a nuke and it landed here but didn't explode...President Trump's private jet shot down by radicals...lifeforms from an alternate universe...

Andie shook her head in disbelief as the people around her all seemed to have some wack conspiracy theory on the disaster that was the site before them. These people are insane. Right on cue, an older man pushed past her with his hand straight up in the air holding a copy of The Holy Bible: King James edition, and hollering out "The Reaping is here. Judgement Day is upon us. Repent! Repent and Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior will welcome you home into His glorious arms in the life above us!" Andie rolled her eyes and started to push her way out of the crowd. She wasn't really one for religious practices or even government conspiracy theories. This was a waste of time. Who cares what happened here anyway? It wasn't her problem.

As she made her way to the edge of the mob, Andie's ears honed in on the sound of a women's wailing voice. "Please! He's in there alone! He might not have much time left!" The women was clutching a male, presumably her husband, and practically yelling in the face of a heavy set security guard. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but this is now a restricted area. No one is allowed to surpass this tape." The guard replied as he ran his hand along the yellow caution tape. "You can wait and get your dog after the area has been cleared." Andie paused for a second, glancing at the scene. Move along idiot, this isn't your problem. She attempted to coax herself into finishing her workout, but instead of continuing along the path Andie took a sharp right into the dense trees. That poor woman just wanted to make sure her dog was okay. It's not even a big deal. The area clearly isn't that dangerous if there are dudes in suits walking around everywhere. I'll just take a look and see if the dog is okay. What are they gonna do? Shoot me? Yeah, right.

A short looping path allowed Andie to sneak around to the trailer park and emerge from the trees in a spot where no suits were poking around. Wreckage from the crash--or whatever this thing was-- covered the ground in front of her and she had to carefully watch her step as she entered the trailer park. She realized that as she walked the wreckage got more and more dense, so she must have been pretty close to the exact crash site. Out of the corner of her eye, Andie saw a flash of light and she instantly pressed herself flat against the wall of a trailer. Only now she realized how much trouble she could get in for being in this zone. I should just go back, that was probably one of the suits and he might have saw me. I can't risk my scholarship being taken away on trespassing charges for something as meaningless as this. However, Andie ignored her conscience and poked her head around the corner. Nothing. That's weird. She rounded the corner and examined the crash site for a moment. Weird. She hadn't really seen anything like it before. Andie couldn't really make out what the shape was because it was in pretty bad shape. As she turned to go, the white flash appeared again, this time emerging from a small hole in the wreckage. A dog. "Hey buddy, hey, c'mere." She whispered, putting her hands down and motioning at the dog. The dog cocked its head to the side, clearly distressed, and slowly approached Andie. "That's it, good boy, here, let's get you back to your owner," She reached her hand out and placed it on the side of the dog's head gently, just for a second, when all of the sudden the dog let out a loud bark. The crunching of leaves and wreckage followed, as well as a gruff voice calling out, "Who's there?". Andie's head shot up. "Shit." Glancing around, she was unable to spot the man from her line of sight and guessed that she only had seconds before he appeared. "Alright, time to go." She lunged out and grabbed the dog, cradling it to her chest. Almost instantly, the dog began barking furiously and squirming to escape from her grasp, snarling and squirming and squealing, and Andie bolted from the scene.

As she jogged back through the trees, she looked down at the dog when she started to feel an odd wetness soaking through the front of her shirt. She wrinkled up her nose as she just now realized that the dog was soaking wet. Nice. The liquid had almost completed soaked the front of her shirt and had started seeping into the absorbent material of her sports bra. "Hell, dog, what did you get yourself into back there?" The liquid was clear and warm against her skin. Water from the park pool probably? Did they even have a park pool? Or maybe it was some weird oil from the wreckage. Either way, Andie was soaked and a little annoyed as she exited the trees and approached the couple. "Excuse me, is this your dog? I found him wandering around about a quarter mile down the road." The woman's eyes lit up with excitement and she swiped the dog from Andie's arms, swinging him around in the air and kissing his nose. "Oh, Huxley, I'm so glad you're okay!" She screeched and pulled the dog in close to her chest. The woman faced Andie with a smile that quickly faded as she spoke. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry about your hand. Huxley doesn't really like strangers." Andie responded with a confused look and glanced down at her hands. "What? OH, man, I didn't even see, okay, dang." A deep gash embedded itself in the top of her left hand and crimson red blood was smeared across her skin and part of her shirt. "It's okay. I'm fine, really." Andie lied, just now starting to realize the slight throbbing coming from her hand. "As long as he doesn't transfer rabies or some shit like that to me, haha." Andie joked and looked back up at the woman, who clearly didn't appreciate the joke as she looked extremely offended at the thought of her dog having a disease. "Thanks again." The woman ended their conversation with a short statement and Andie nodded before starting to walk away. Weird, I don't really remember the dog biting me. It probably happened when I picked him up because I was focused on trying to not get shot by some guy in a suit.

Andie crossed the street and approached two girls with brightly colored hair standing outside the gas station. "Hey," She approached the two girls who were in the middle of a conversation. "Do you guys work here?" Andie motioned to the gas station and didn't wait for their answer. "Do you have some bandages I could use?"

Rida
kou