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rainbowfic2013-10-19 02:56 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-19 02:56 pm
Summertime Blues 8, Blood Red 7, Dirt Brown 23
Name: auguris
'verse: After The World
Story: Escape IV (I | II | III)
Colors: Summertime Blues 8. I thought I could trust you., Blood Red 7. strangulation, Dirt Brown 23. Strength
Supplies and Styles: Pastels: taking a chance
Word Count: 1400
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence
Summary/Notes: Jean needs to do this one thing before they take off. It doesn't go well. Concrit welcome.
Once outside Jean said, "I'll drive. Any idea where we should go?"
Max shrugged, looking every which way as they left the building. "I've been on the highway the past few days. When I stopped for gas no one knew what was happening, just the thing about a terrorist attack. No one was being evacuated or anything." He whirled fast, staring at the empty space behind them. "Sometimes there was just... no one. It was empty."
"Like here?"
"Yeah. The last one, um, it looked like something had happened in the store but I didn't look." He rubbed his arms. "Maybe I should've."
Jean sat back in the driver's seat, grimacing when her head throbbed. Should she head towards the city or away? If they'd gone after Boston first -- or early or whatever -- then Pittsburgh might not be safe. If you wanted to kill a lot of people you went after population centers, right?
"Are you sure you should drive? You don't look great." Max shut his door quietly, staring out the window when he wasn't staring at Jean. "I mean you look pale."
"I'm always pale."
He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Where were you heading before they grabbed you?"
Max crossed his arms. "Ohio. Dayton. My aunt lives there."
"Not your parents?" She started the car and backed into the road.
"They're down south. Isn't the highway the other way?"
Jean floored it, hands tight on the wheel. "There's something I need to do first."
"Shit, no, we have to get out of here before those guys find us!"
"It won't take long." She just needed to make sure. If she left town without checking she would never forgive herself.
Max muttered to himself the entire ten minute trip to Clare's house. Dana's car sat in the driveway, empty, driver's door wide open. Jean ran up to the door, shoving it open when she found it unlocked.
"Dana!"
"Jesus be quiet they'll hear you!" Max stood by the doorway, searching up and down the street. "What are we doing here? Who's Dana?"
Jean ignored him, rushing through each room. Two plates on the small kitchen table, food half eaten. Dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. Guest room -- not used.
Bed not slept in. No clothes in the closet.
Jean set her jaw as she entered the master bedroom, Clare's bedroom, the queen sized mattress Jean had helped her drag into the house sitting on the frame she'd helped build, covers rumpled on both sides of the bed. Two sets of clothes in the closet. That orange sundress she'd bought Dana. She'd been so nervous -- she was bad at femme clothes but Dana had cooed over it, how proud she was, and now it hung in Clare's closet.
"Staying with a friend," Jean said. She tore the dress from the hanger, ripping it right in half. "Fucking cunt!"
"What's going on -- holy shit --" Max jumped back as Jean tossed the mattress across the room. "Are you insane?"
"Fuck!" Jean punched the wall, going right through the plasterboard. She stumbled back, staring at her clenched fist, then the wall. "Shitty construction," she muttered. She had barely felt the impact.
Max hovered in the doorway. "Can we please leave?"
"Yes," Jean snapped, pushing past him. Let Dana fend for herself. Maybe they'd taken her. Maybe she was dead. Maybe they both were. Good.
Hands grabbed her as soon as she walked through the front door. She shoved them off -- one of the identical men, glowing blue eyes boring into her. He moved towards her and Max tackled him, both men tumbling to the ground. Blue-eyes rolled into a crouch and leaped onto Max, knee in his back. Jean pulled him into a headlock, giving Max room to crawl out of reach.
She tightened her grip on blue-eyes, dragging him back in a choke-hold. Max surged forward and grabbed the pistol from the man's belt holster, staring at it like it might bite.
Blue-eyes reached for her, slapping at her arms and chest. Her stomach roiled but she held on, jaw tight and arms shaking. His fingers dug into her flesh, blunt nails ripping into skin. His skull vibrated, something inside clicking; his eyes blinked out like a dying lightbulb.
She let him go as his arms fell, backing away until her knees gave out. Movement to her left, and Max stood and fired his stolen gun. It sounded like a plane breaking the sound barrier. Max slammed into the ground. The shot went wide, leaving a small crater in a tree trunk instead of the new blue-eyed creep.
He moved faster than she'd ever seen a person move. She drew her gun at thirty feet, fired at ten. He reeled back, stumbling before standing up straight. Sparks flew from the new bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. His eyes flickered as he strode forward, movements slowing as he approached. She fired again, aiming for his heart -- or where his damn heart should be -- and he faltered, falling to his knees as he drew his pistol. It slipped from his hands and he toppled over, his eyes going dark.
Jean looked around as she hurried to Max; the third one had to be around, maybe more. Maybe these weren't the same guys -- she'd only stopped at the house what, five minutes ago? Not even? But he'd moved so damn fast...
Max moaned as she sat him up, eyes not quite focussed on her. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and helped him up -- he wasn't as heavy as he looked. He muttered thanks while she helped him into the car, so he couldn't have been too badly hurt.
"Oh god," he said as she started the car: the third blue-eyed creep stood in front of them, expressionless. Before she could put her foot on the gas pedal he surged forward, lifted the front of the SUV, and flipped it onto the driver's side.
Max slumped across her, shout mingling with hers. Blue eyes smashed the windshield, raining down tiny sharp pebbles. He dragged Max out with little effort -- Jean grabbed his arm but blue-eyes yanked him out of her grip. She crawled after them, scrabbling for her gun, shards biting into her skin.
She stood and aimed -- blue-eyes held Max up by the collar, gun pressed against a weeping gash in his head. Max stared at her, wide-eyed, mouthing -- what?
"Hunter," blue-eyes said, "this one is mine."
Jean searched for words -- what the hell? Hunter? She settled on, "let him go," not that it did any good.
"My brothers are coming. You can't destroy us all."
She glanced around -- how much time did she have? Blue seemed more than happy to leave her be if she left Max. She'd known the guy, what, an hour? She didn't owe him anything. She could walk away right now, save her eight bullets and find somewhere to lay low until everything blew over. The army would come through eventually. The National Guard, FEMA, someone would show up and take her to safety, explain what in the absolute fuck was going on.
Please. Max was mouthing, please.
It couldn't have been more than a few days between now and her memory of the kitchen, between now and the unexplainable blood stain, between now and normal. Her hair was gone, she had a new scar that looked old and an old scar that no longer was. Physically, aside from the fading migraine, she felt good. Clear. Sharp. Ice-cold mountain water at the end of a sweltering summer day.
She lined up her shot, both hands wrapped around the grip. Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Fire.
The blue's eyes flickered. Max swore and stumbled out of the blue's arms. She fired once more, into his chest, same as the last. He crumpled, blue flickering to black.
She helped Max to his feet. "I don't think the car is going anywhere," she said. He just shook his head, staring at her. "We need to find somewhere safe to get you cleaned up." She grabbed the backpack from inside the car. "He said there were more coming. We need to move."
"What did he mean?" Jean turned to face Max. "He called you a hunter."
Jean shook her head. "I have no fucking clue. I haven't gone hunting in years."
Max did that whole-body shrug. "Okay. Whatever. Let's get out of here."
auguris'verse: After The World
Story: Escape IV (I | II | III)
Colors: Summertime Blues 8. I thought I could trust you., Blood Red 7. strangulation, Dirt Brown 23. Strength
Supplies and Styles: Pastels: taking a chance
Word Count: 1400
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence
Summary/Notes: Jean needs to do this one thing before they take off. It doesn't go well. Concrit welcome.
Once outside Jean said, "I'll drive. Any idea where we should go?"
Max shrugged, looking every which way as they left the building. "I've been on the highway the past few days. When I stopped for gas no one knew what was happening, just the thing about a terrorist attack. No one was being evacuated or anything." He whirled fast, staring at the empty space behind them. "Sometimes there was just... no one. It was empty."
"Like here?"
"Yeah. The last one, um, it looked like something had happened in the store but I didn't look." He rubbed his arms. "Maybe I should've."
Jean sat back in the driver's seat, grimacing when her head throbbed. Should she head towards the city or away? If they'd gone after Boston first -- or early or whatever -- then Pittsburgh might not be safe. If you wanted to kill a lot of people you went after population centers, right?
"Are you sure you should drive? You don't look great." Max shut his door quietly, staring out the window when he wasn't staring at Jean. "I mean you look pale."
"I'm always pale."
He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Where were you heading before they grabbed you?"
Max crossed his arms. "Ohio. Dayton. My aunt lives there."
"Not your parents?" She started the car and backed into the road.
"They're down south. Isn't the highway the other way?"
Jean floored it, hands tight on the wheel. "There's something I need to do first."
"Shit, no, we have to get out of here before those guys find us!"
"It won't take long." She just needed to make sure. If she left town without checking she would never forgive herself.
Max muttered to himself the entire ten minute trip to Clare's house. Dana's car sat in the driveway, empty, driver's door wide open. Jean ran up to the door, shoving it open when she found it unlocked.
"Dana!"
"Jesus be quiet they'll hear you!" Max stood by the doorway, searching up and down the street. "What are we doing here? Who's Dana?"
Jean ignored him, rushing through each room. Two plates on the small kitchen table, food half eaten. Dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. Guest room -- not used.
Bed not slept in. No clothes in the closet.
Jean set her jaw as she entered the master bedroom, Clare's bedroom, the queen sized mattress Jean had helped her drag into the house sitting on the frame she'd helped build, covers rumpled on both sides of the bed. Two sets of clothes in the closet. That orange sundress she'd bought Dana. She'd been so nervous -- she was bad at femme clothes but Dana had cooed over it, how proud she was, and now it hung in Clare's closet.
"Staying with a friend," Jean said. She tore the dress from the hanger, ripping it right in half. "Fucking cunt!"
"What's going on -- holy shit --" Max jumped back as Jean tossed the mattress across the room. "Are you insane?"
"Fuck!" Jean punched the wall, going right through the plasterboard. She stumbled back, staring at her clenched fist, then the wall. "Shitty construction," she muttered. She had barely felt the impact.
Max hovered in the doorway. "Can we please leave?"
"Yes," Jean snapped, pushing past him. Let Dana fend for herself. Maybe they'd taken her. Maybe she was dead. Maybe they both were. Good.
Hands grabbed her as soon as she walked through the front door. She shoved them off -- one of the identical men, glowing blue eyes boring into her. He moved towards her and Max tackled him, both men tumbling to the ground. Blue-eyes rolled into a crouch and leaped onto Max, knee in his back. Jean pulled him into a headlock, giving Max room to crawl out of reach.
She tightened her grip on blue-eyes, dragging him back in a choke-hold. Max surged forward and grabbed the pistol from the man's belt holster, staring at it like it might bite.
Blue-eyes reached for her, slapping at her arms and chest. Her stomach roiled but she held on, jaw tight and arms shaking. His fingers dug into her flesh, blunt nails ripping into skin. His skull vibrated, something inside clicking; his eyes blinked out like a dying lightbulb.
She let him go as his arms fell, backing away until her knees gave out. Movement to her left, and Max stood and fired his stolen gun. It sounded like a plane breaking the sound barrier. Max slammed into the ground. The shot went wide, leaving a small crater in a tree trunk instead of the new blue-eyed creep.
He moved faster than she'd ever seen a person move. She drew her gun at thirty feet, fired at ten. He reeled back, stumbling before standing up straight. Sparks flew from the new bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. His eyes flickered as he strode forward, movements slowing as he approached. She fired again, aiming for his heart -- or where his damn heart should be -- and he faltered, falling to his knees as he drew his pistol. It slipped from his hands and he toppled over, his eyes going dark.
Jean looked around as she hurried to Max; the third one had to be around, maybe more. Maybe these weren't the same guys -- she'd only stopped at the house what, five minutes ago? Not even? But he'd moved so damn fast...
Max moaned as she sat him up, eyes not quite focussed on her. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and helped him up -- he wasn't as heavy as he looked. He muttered thanks while she helped him into the car, so he couldn't have been too badly hurt.
"Oh god," he said as she started the car: the third blue-eyed creep stood in front of them, expressionless. Before she could put her foot on the gas pedal he surged forward, lifted the front of the SUV, and flipped it onto the driver's side.
Max slumped across her, shout mingling with hers. Blue eyes smashed the windshield, raining down tiny sharp pebbles. He dragged Max out with little effort -- Jean grabbed his arm but blue-eyes yanked him out of her grip. She crawled after them, scrabbling for her gun, shards biting into her skin.
She stood and aimed -- blue-eyes held Max up by the collar, gun pressed against a weeping gash in his head. Max stared at her, wide-eyed, mouthing -- what?
"Hunter," blue-eyes said, "this one is mine."
Jean searched for words -- what the hell? Hunter? She settled on, "let him go," not that it did any good.
"My brothers are coming. You can't destroy us all."
She glanced around -- how much time did she have? Blue seemed more than happy to leave her be if she left Max. She'd known the guy, what, an hour? She didn't owe him anything. She could walk away right now, save her eight bullets and find somewhere to lay low until everything blew over. The army would come through eventually. The National Guard, FEMA, someone would show up and take her to safety, explain what in the absolute fuck was going on.
Please. Max was mouthing, please.
It couldn't have been more than a few days between now and her memory of the kitchen, between now and the unexplainable blood stain, between now and normal. Her hair was gone, she had a new scar that looked old and an old scar that no longer was. Physically, aside from the fading migraine, she felt good. Clear. Sharp. Ice-cold mountain water at the end of a sweltering summer day.
She lined up her shot, both hands wrapped around the grip. Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Fire.
The blue's eyes flickered. Max swore and stumbled out of the blue's arms. She fired once more, into his chest, same as the last. He crumpled, blue flickering to black.
She helped Max to his feet. "I don't think the car is going anywhere," she said. He just shook his head, staring at her. "We need to find somewhere safe to get you cleaned up." She grabbed the backpack from inside the car. "He said there were more coming. We need to move."
"What did he mean?" Jean turned to face Max. "He called you a hunter."
Jean shook her head. "I have no fucking clue. I haven't gone hunting in years."
Max did that whole-body shrug. "Okay. Whatever. Let's get out of here."
no subject
It's creepy how it seems like basically the apocalypse has come but no one really knows what's going on. Good job showing that confusion and chaos.
no subject