// HI GUYS GULPSSS đĽšđĽš I think it was pretty obvious but it should totally be stated, I'm going to completely stop the rps. At least I was planning for just a simple break, but turns out I'm not interested in NINAH anymore and I very much doubt that even if I do get back in the fandom, it will be so much that I want to start doing rps again.
I COMPLETELY apologize to the people that I left waiting all this time, I was really doubtful of doing this post but it's not fair either. In general, I thank everyone for staying with me! It was a super fun experience and I was very welcomed. I wish the best to everyone!! âĄâĄ
// HI GUYS AGAIN!!!! back from the death to say that im joining art fight and id LOVEEEE to see any of you if you partecipate! especially ur NINAH ocs!! (I have my baby Nine in the id card, last one!)
MOOT ME UP IF URE THERE!!!! TEAM TRAGEDY FOR THE WIN ><
Roleplaying speaking, probably notđ I'm not really into NINAH as much as I used to be, so I don't really have the motivation to do anything related to it,,
BUTT I'll still try to interact with other people when I can (my main is @stellae-inerrantes, if y'all see it that's me!!)
Nine didn't like talking to others, especially when he was alone. But this couldn't be done in any other way... He needed... what did he need, exactly? What could he get out of this? At this point, he wasn't sure himself.
âYou... were one of us, weren't you?â That much was obvious. Thanks for pointing it out! Even though his tone was low, as if it was a chore to push out the words from his mouth. His mask didn't help.
âHow did you manage to actually stay?â He didn't say directly, but it was obvious he meant about their little... problem of where they were from, let's say. But why would HE care?
-đť ( @give-us-your-visitors )
// HERE WE AREEEđ
*Sat on the front porch of the school, looking exhausted, the former-FEMA keeps touching the brace around their neck. It's more of a scarf, really, but it holds bandages strong and keep the wounds from reopening or becoming infected.
The sniper has the security on, now. Pointed down. Never again.
A newcomer in F.E.M.A uniform. Better keep things civil. This was an old base after all. Ilya greets him with a martial nod and encourage him to come closer.*
- ...
*They nod again, slower. Ilya's story is easy to read, if's written all over them. A sniper from an old model, Afghanistan's war. A repurposed Hazmat made into a jacket, the F.E.M.A logo scratched as best as they could but still readable. The pants badly died black, shiny plastic like a trasbag. Old Hazmat model in two pieces. Old uniform from months ago. They don't even have a mask.
They shrug at the second question.*
- ... got lucky.
*Where they ?
Yes, in a way. The old Homeowner refused them in once. And F.E.M.A took them back in. Then, he caved when Ilya came crawling by the window. They came to a truce. He asked for a new place. A bigger one. Ilya had just the one...
That was a good Homeowner. Caring about the people's comfort. Caring about their security. Why did he go ? Where was he now ? Maybe back at the Old House. Nobody dared to check.*
- I found this place for them. now they tolerate me. i'm usefull.
*The school was an abandonned F.E.M.A base. The hole in the fence made it unfit to secure civilians. That's why Ilya is out everynight, or almost, sometimes giving the job to Lasha, or Grey, or anyone they can trust with not letting visitor in.
Yet there was more visitors than humans in that house, Ilya was sure. They are a very usefull nurse and a very bad soldier.*
- ... who ?
*Their voice is strangled. It sounds more masculine this way. Yay. But they stop before the "are you", in too much pain. They even tried to speak with hands but figures the newcomer, through his mask, could barely see. The night is dark, now that street lights died. The stars are beautiful, tho.*
Despite getting the memo of moving closer, he didn't do anything besides standing in the same stiff way in front of the porch. He only forced himself to step forward once they started speaking, noticing that he wasn't going to understand that far. His movements seemed almost rusty, as if he was a puppet that was being moved by somethingâor someoneâelse. Being here was his fault, after all: what did he expect he would find, going out of his zone? Might as well take what he had.
Despite the little he could see, both because of the hour and his maskâwhich he wouldn't take off no matter whatâhe still realized WHO was in front of him. And listened to his reply. Or tried to, better. It took him a few moments to realize what they were asking.
âI'm... just a cadet patrolling around.â That's all he said, not even a real presentation. On top of that, he was lying. He couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, randomly finding the place. He didn't know how to lie; he had just lately learned how to do it. He never thought he'd need it.
*There is an air of repproach in that hoarse voice. Not really at the agent himself, but the whole situation. F.E.M.A agents always go by two ! It's a rule !
First Rookie, abandonned by his unit after a fight with the Pale Intruder, and now this random guy ? Not even very scary one ! He looks as tall as Ilya... Wich means "not much".
Or maybe there is not enough F.E.M.A agents left to ensure everyone has a comrade ? That was terrible news.
This guy was new. Or not from here. With time, Ilya saw every agent designated to this portion of the city. Sector 7, as say their old map. It might be wrong now. Things change so fast and F.E.M.A is so deorganized !
They consider the young man in front of them, so zaelous about protocol with that gaz mask. They consider the hour of the night and where might be the closest base.*
- ... Are you lost ?
*Maybe some new blood. Another rookie. Not their Rookie tho.*
Shit. He should have figured they would still remember the rules: seeing how despite them not saying directly, the sound of his voiceâwell, little sound it madeâwas enough for him to tell. With the start of the apocalypse, actually, groups started to be assigned in trios with the new amount of recruits that entered. Which made his lie sound even stupider. Speaking of trio, maybe he should have gone back to them... Staying awake for this long usually messed with his head.
He pounded at the questionâdespite in the mess of it all (of his head, at the very least), it took him more than a moment. Not that it was easy to tell, whatever he was thinking, with that mask on. His expression wouldn't have changed without it anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference. Although a part of him just wanted to brush it off, he knew he would never be able to find his way back by himself. He wasn't quite sure he'd trust their directionâif they could give someâbut it might have helped him remember, at least.
âI think I am. First time around here...â And last, he hoped.
*was this guy a poor idiot lost in another part in the city out of his district, or was he bad news ?
Some F.E.M.A agents wanted to be let in the school. One of the biggest survivor's group out there. Bastion of Humanity. It was just so tempting. Either to check for visitors... Or to take people away. Usual F.E.MA stuff no one had to suffer from since... Well, since Ilya, who was the last officially taken at the door of the old house by a patrol. Kind of ironic if you ask them.
Yet no one dared yet ask for anyone here, yet. Mayne because F.E.M.A had enough test subjects already, and enough work on their hands ? Maybe because "a F.E.M.A agent" was already here ? Between Ilya, the Rookie, and Mr.FEMA... This was basically another base at this point !
Maybe this man wanted to make it official ? Seek troubles ? Take someone away ? Ilya would not let him.
But the mufled voice behind the mask sounded young and after all, he was certainly a Human. An alone, lost human, in the dark of the night. With barely a working weapon. Ilya searches on him the proofs of competence, as if they were a reference.
Ilya takes a deep breath, strange amber eyes focused on the somewhat small silhouette, three pupils judging him, seizing him. And judging him fit.*
- ... come in.
*They do not have the voice to add "if you want" or "to check my map", left in their green bag, hanged on the infirmary doorhandle. They just gesture the shy agent to come closer. Not a lot of social cues at the end of the world.*
- ... number ?
*F.E.M.A agents dont ask each others for names anymore. It's easier to have numbers. You get less attached. Ilya had been D-41, in their time.
Section D was purely internal to the camps : little hands working around to make it work. Kept out of decisions and danger. Sections A and B, those who went outside... Ilya was sorry for them. Reaping humans. Fighting visitors. Not something they wanted to do. They were fine with paperwork and customer service, thank you very much. They sometimes had other tasks, cooking or using those muscles to tie the big sail that protected civilians from the heat in the day. It had to be put up every dawn and put down every sunset, or visitors and terrorists would destroy it at night. Wonderful times truly.
They were given a weapon for "internal surveillance" at some point and that was the start of the end. What do you mean, shooting those who try to leave ? When did this place become a prison, instead of a temporary refugee camp ?
No way he'd enter thereâfirst thing that he could filter in the jab of thoughts that filled his head. He had to think logically: how could he just enter a facilityâthat was clearly an old FEMA baseâwith a stranger? But if he was really going to think like that, what about the fact the sun could be up before he found a way back into his zone? He found himself with less choice than what he wantedâand god, would Malko kill him if he found out about this... Maybe he'd manage to find his way back without having to stay for long. That could work...
He could sense the way they were watching him. Nothing he wasn't used to; although usually agents never looked each other in the eyes. He for sure never did.
âD-9.â Was all he muttered. He didn't seem to be quite the talker. He didn't care about the section he was assigned to; by how FEMA was moving lately, there was no point. In one way or another, you'd find yourself doing the opposite you were previously assigned to. Although obviously they wouldn't just push a new recruit outside to gather people. Not because they cared about them, simply since more often than not they'd mess up.
He finally moved forwardâstill with rusty steps. âYou?â He asked. For him, the answer didn't matter enough to wait for one. But maybe in his head, relying on a number like his would sound less uncivil to the agency.
*Another section D ? What is he doing out, if he is nor A nor B ? Classical F.E.M.A mistake. "Organisation" was a foreign concept for them. Higher-Ups were all smug idiots, going to receive some undeserved medals at the end of it all. It made Ilya mad.
But at least the other did approach them. Good. Ilya does not bite. But they are also pretty proud to be... Somewhat feared. Respected. Seen as a potential menace. It made them feel better about themselves, after that incident...*
- D-41.
*Long ago. Now this number might have be given to someone else. After all, nonody really knew what happened to the old "D-41". Words were he disobeyed a direct, secret order, and dissapeared one night. Most of their old buddies must think they were simply executed, or sent on a suicide mission. Maybe they were meant to be but the three agents who escorted him outside never uttered a word about Ilya's fate, just let them go...
Ilya never really received the memo that said looking directly and far too long into people eyes could be threatening. For them it meant they were saying the truth and being trustworthy, since eyes were so expressiv, especially theirs. And since speaking was so difficult...
They point at themselves, then at the front door, and simply say :*
- Map. Wait here.
*The "r" sounds... Painful and strained.
Since the other was so cautious -good on him-, Ilya was going to look for that map, and give it to him. Or rather, copy the main informations on a piece of paper and send that guy on his merry way.
They come back some minutes later. They sens the night is warmer already....*
Of course Nine was too new to have actually heard about what went out; although a part of him was more content to know he was being helped by someone who at least had been in the agency. That meant that, at least once, they had similar beliefs.
He nodded at their movements, noticing how difficult it seemed for them to talkânot that he was going to reply either way, the quicker he was gone the better. When they returned and handed him a piece of paper, he grabbed it and quickly tried to assimilate as much information as he could with one look. No time to waste.
However, as he tried to move, his body didn't listen. In his head, he had already turned away and was steps far from the place, but in reality he was simply standing still, gripping at the paper he was giving a hard stare at.
âso... Why aren't you there anymore? Did they... find out?â He didn't spill out the last question he had ("is that going to happen to me too?")..They probably didn't even have voice to reply; or it must have been a different reason. He should have left right away...
*Ilya was sat on the porch's steps once again, a big piece of paper on their lap, drawing with one hand while the other was holding up their broken glasses on their nose. Big and square, giving them bigger eyes, it made them look like a weird ugly bug. A weird ugly bug very focused on their work.
Already copying the map quite accurately on a piece of paper for D-9 to take with him and go back "home" safely, Ilya was not too focused on his words, and tilted back their head to look at him in the eyes at his intrusive question. They squinted in suspicion, before asking with a strained voice... Definitly more masculine sounding than before, but not quite foolproof either.*
- ... find out... what ?
*Oh, Liliana had an idea of the "what".
But they were not going to spell it out to that noisy young man. And he could mean anything, really. So better make sure.
But as annoying as this young agent was, Ilya was not going to let him go without a map. So they handed him the copy. The right path, the quickest and safest, was even traced down in a little doted line. It was surprising how perfect the map was. Straight lines. Correct proportions and distances. Photographic memory and notation of some places that were not even on the original map.*
- here.
*They stared with a bit of impatience. Anger, even, like judging the other's audacitu. But it was anger and irritation born out of fear. They wanted that young man to stop asking difficult questions and to leave already before the sun was up !
Or maybe Ilya was mistaken about "his" intentions ? Huh.
Doubt prevented them from being too harsh. They did care about a fellow "comrad", after all. Wouldnt want for him to burn or meet a bad person on the way back. And wouldnt want to make an ennemy either.*
âYou know...â He paused, not replying directly just yet. Not because he couldn't; hell, what did he have to lose? They probably weren't going to meet ever again after this. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? Not like they could tell anyone. Even though he "probably" couldn't have asked such questions to a stranger, he couldn't quite help it. Once he focused on something, he just had to get it. "Curiosity killed the cat"... Pssh. Yeah, right.
He stared at the paper they handed, taking in the detailsâeven if he could feel their angered stare. It was way better than what he thought it would have been; now it should have been easy to go back. They must have been quite the recruit, with that meticulous precision.
âYou wouldn't just leave without a reason, right?â Sensing their frustration, he could tell they knew what he was talking about. He must have thought that was why they weren't at FEMA anymore.
Nine didn't like talking to others, especially when he was alone. But this couldn't be done in any other way... He needed... what did he need, exactly? What could he get out of this? At this point, he wasn't sure himself.
âYou... were one of us, weren't you?â That much was obvious. Thanks for pointing it out! Even though his tone was low, as if it was a chore to push out the words from his mouth. His mask didn't help.
âHow did you manage to actually stay?â He didn't say directly, but it was obvious he meant about their little... problem of where they were from, let's say. But why would HE care?
-đť ( @give-us-your-visitors )
// HERE WE AREEEđ
*Sat on the front porch of the school, looking exhausted, the former-FEMA keeps touching the brace around their neck. It's more of a scarf, really, but it holds bandages strong and keep the wounds from reopening or becoming infected.
The sniper has the security on, now. Pointed down. Never again.
A newcomer in F.E.M.A uniform. Better keep things civil. This was an old base after all. Ilya greets him with a martial nod and encourage him to come closer.*
- ...
*They nod again, slower. Ilya's story is easy to read, if's written all over them. A sniper from an old model, Afghanistan's war. A repurposed Hazmat made into a jacket, the F.E.M.A logo scratched as best as they could but still readable. The pants badly died black, shiny plastic like a trasbag. Old Hazmat model in two pieces. Old uniform from months ago. They don't even have a mask.
They shrug at the second question.*
- ... got lucky.
*Where they ?
Yes, in a way. The old Homeowner refused them in once. And F.E.M.A took them back in. Then, he caved when Ilya came crawling by the window. They came to a truce. He asked for a new place. A bigger one. Ilya had just the one...
That was a good Homeowner. Caring about the people's comfort. Caring about their security. Why did he go ? Where was he now ? Maybe back at the Old House. Nobody dared to check.*
- I found this place for them. now they tolerate me. i'm usefull.
*The school was an abandonned F.E.M.A base. The hole in the fence made it unfit to secure civilians. That's why Ilya is out everynight, or almost, sometimes giving the job to Lasha, or Grey, or anyone they can trust with not letting visitor in.
Yet there was more visitors than humans in that house, Ilya was sure. They are a very usefull nurse and a very bad soldier.*
- ... who ?
*Their voice is strangled. It sounds more masculine this way. Yay. But they stop before the "are you", in too much pain. They even tried to speak with hands but figures the newcomer, through his mask, could barely see. The night is dark, now that street lights died. The stars are beautiful, tho.*
Despite getting the memo of moving closer, he didn't do anything besides standing in the same stiff way in front of the porch. He only forced himself to step forward once they started speaking, noticing that he wasn't going to understand that far. His movements seemed almost rusty, as if he was a puppet that was being moved by somethingâor someoneâelse. Being here was his fault, after all: what did he expect he would find, going out of his zone? Might as well take what he had.
Despite the little he could see, both because of the hour and his maskâwhich he wouldn't take off no matter whatâhe still realized WHO was in front of him. And listened to his reply. Or tried to, better. It took him a few moments to realize what they were asking.
âI'm... just a cadet patrolling around.â That's all he said, not even a real presentation. On top of that, he was lying. He couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, randomly finding the place. He didn't know how to lie; he had just lately learned how to do it. He never thought he'd need it.
*There is an air of repproach in that hoarse voice. Not really at the agent himself, but the whole situation. F.E.M.A agents always go by two ! It's a rule !
First Rookie, abandonned by his unit after a fight with the Pale Intruder, and now this random guy ? Not even very scary one ! He looks as tall as Ilya... Wich means "not much".
Or maybe there is not enough F.E.M.A agents left to ensure everyone has a comrade ? That was terrible news.
This guy was new. Or not from here. With time, Ilya saw every agent designated to this portion of the city. Sector 7, as say their old map. It might be wrong now. Things change so fast and F.E.M.A is so deorganized !
They consider the young man in front of them, so zaelous about protocol with that gaz mask. They consider the hour of the night and where might be the closest base.*
- ... Are you lost ?
*Maybe some new blood. Another rookie. Not their Rookie tho.*
Shit. He should have figured they would still remember the rules: seeing how despite them not saying directly, the sound of his voiceâwell, little sound it madeâwas enough for him to tell. With the start of the apocalypse, actually, groups started to be assigned in trios with the new amount of recruits that entered. Which made his lie sound even stupider. Speaking of trio, maybe he should have gone back to them... Staying awake for this long usually messed with his head.
He pounded at the questionâdespite in the mess of it all (of his head, at the very least), it took him more than a moment. Not that it was easy to tell, whatever he was thinking, with that mask on. His expression wouldn't have changed without it anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference. Although a part of him just wanted to brush it off, he knew he would never be able to find his way back by himself. He wasn't quite sure he'd trust their directionâif they could give someâbut it might have helped him remember, at least.
âI think I am. First time around here...â And last, he hoped.
*was this guy a poor idiot lost in another part in the city out of his district, or was he bad news ?
Some F.E.M.A agents wanted to be let in the school. One of the biggest survivor's group out there. Bastion of Humanity. It was just so tempting. Either to check for visitors... Or to take people away. Usual F.E.MA stuff no one had to suffer from since... Well, since Ilya, who was the last officially taken at the door of the old house by a patrol. Kind of ironic if you ask them.
Yet no one dared yet ask for anyone here, yet. Mayne because F.E.M.A had enough test subjects already, and enough work on their hands ? Maybe because "a F.E.M.A agent" was already here ? Between Ilya, the Rookie, and Mr.FEMA... This was basically another base at this point !
Maybe this man wanted to make it official ? Seek troubles ? Take someone away ? Ilya would not let him.
But the mufled voice behind the mask sounded young and after all, he was certainly a Human. An alone, lost human, in the dark of the night. With barely a working weapon. Ilya searches on him the proofs of competence, as if they were a reference.
Ilya takes a deep breath, strange amber eyes focused on the somewhat small silhouette, three pupils judging him, seizing him. And judging him fit.*
- ... come in.
*They do not have the voice to add "if you want" or "to check my map", left in their green bag, hanged on the infirmary doorhandle. They just gesture the shy agent to come closer. Not a lot of social cues at the end of the world.*
- ... number ?
*F.E.M.A agents dont ask each others for names anymore. It's easier to have numbers. You get less attached. Ilya had been D-41, in their time.
Section D was purely internal to the camps : little hands working around to make it work. Kept out of decisions and danger. Sections A and B, those who went outside... Ilya was sorry for them. Reaping humans. Fighting visitors. Not something they wanted to do. They were fine with paperwork and customer service, thank you very much. They sometimes had other tasks, cooking or using those muscles to tie the big sail that protected civilians from the heat in the day. It had to be put up every dawn and put down every sunset, or visitors and terrorists would destroy it at night. Wonderful times truly.
They were given a weapon for "internal surveillance" at some point and that was the start of the end. What do you mean, shooting those who try to leave ? When did this place become a prison, instead of a temporary refugee camp ?
No way he'd enter thereâfirst thing that he could filter in the jab of thoughts that filled his head. He had to think logically: how could he just enter a facilityâthat was clearly an old FEMA baseâwith a stranger? But if he was really going to think like that, what about the fact the sun could be up before he found a way back into his zone? He found himself with less choice than what he wantedâand god, would Malko kill him if he found out about this... Maybe he'd manage to find his way back without having to stay for long. That could work...
He could sense the way they were watching him. Nothing he wasn't used to; although usually agents never looked each other in the eyes. He for sure never did.
âD-9.â Was all he muttered. He didn't seem to be quite the talker. He didn't care about the section he was assigned to; by how FEMA was moving lately, there was no point. In one way or another, you'd find yourself doing the opposite you were previously assigned to. Although obviously they wouldn't just push a new recruit outside to gather people. Not because they cared about them, simply since more often than not they'd mess up.
He finally moved forwardâstill with rusty steps. âYou?â He asked. For him, the answer didn't matter enough to wait for one. But maybe in his head, relying on a number like his would sound less uncivil to the agency.
*Another section D ? What is he doing out, if he is nor A nor B ? Classical F.E.M.A mistake. "Organisation" was a foreign concept for them. Higher-Ups were all smug idiots, going to receive some undeserved medals at the end of it all. It made Ilya mad.
But at least the other did approach them. Good. Ilya does not bite. But they are also pretty proud to be... Somewhat feared. Respected. Seen as a potential menace. It made them feel better about themselves, after that incident...*
- D-41.
*Long ago. Now this number might have be given to someone else. After all, nonody really knew what happened to the old "D-41". Words were he disobeyed a direct, secret order, and dissapeared one night. Most of their old buddies must think they were simply executed, or sent on a suicide mission. Maybe they were meant to be but the three agents who escorted him outside never uttered a word about Ilya's fate, just let them go...
Ilya never really received the memo that said looking directly and far too long into people eyes could be threatening. For them it meant they were saying the truth and being trustworthy, since eyes were so expressiv, especially theirs. And since speaking was so difficult...
They point at themselves, then at the front door, and simply say :*
- Map. Wait here.
*The "r" sounds... Painful and strained.
Since the other was so cautious -good on him-, Ilya was going to look for that map, and give it to him. Or rather, copy the main informations on a piece of paper and send that guy on his merry way.
They come back some minutes later. They sens the night is warmer already....*
Of course Nine was too new to have actually heard about what went out; although a part of him was more content to know he was being helped by someone who at least had been in the agency. That meant that, at least once, they had similar beliefs.
He nodded at their movements, noticing how difficult it seemed for them to talkânot that he was going to reply either way, the quicker he was gone the better. When they returned and handed him a piece of paper, he grabbed it and quickly tried to assimilate as much information as he could with one look. No time to waste.
However, as he tried to move, his body didn't listen. In his head, he had already turned away and was steps far from the place, but in reality he was simply standing still, gripping at the paper he was giving a hard stare at.
âso... Why aren't you there anymore? Did they... find out?â He didn't spill out the last question he had ("is that going to happen to me too?")..They probably didn't even have voice to reply; or it must have been a different reason. He should have left right away...
Nine didn't like talking to others, especially when he was alone. But this couldn't be done in any other way... He needed... what did he need, exactly? What could he get out of this? At this point, he wasn't sure himself.
âYou... were one of us, weren't you?â That much was obvious. Thanks for pointing it out! Even though his tone was low, as if it was a chore to push out the words from his mouth. His mask didn't help.
âHow did you manage to actually stay?â He didn't say directly, but it was obvious he meant about their little... problem of where they were from, let's say. But why would HE care?
-đť ( @give-us-your-visitors )
// HERE WE AREEEđ
*Sat on the front porch of the school, looking exhausted, the former-FEMA keeps touching the brace around their neck. It's more of a scarf, really, but it holds bandages strong and keep the wounds from reopening or becoming infected.
The sniper has the security on, now. Pointed down. Never again.
A newcomer in F.E.M.A uniform. Better keep things civil. This was an old base after all. Ilya greets him with a martial nod and encourage him to come closer.*
- ...
*They nod again, slower. Ilya's story is easy to read, if's written all over them. A sniper from an old model, Afghanistan's war. A repurposed Hazmat made into a jacket, the F.E.M.A logo scratched as best as they could but still readable. The pants badly died black, shiny plastic like a trasbag. Old Hazmat model in two pieces. Old uniform from months ago. They don't even have a mask.
They shrug at the second question.*
- ... got lucky.
*Where they ?
Yes, in a way. The old Homeowner refused them in once. And F.E.M.A took them back in. Then, he caved when Ilya came crawling by the window. They came to a truce. He asked for a new place. A bigger one. Ilya had just the one...
That was a good Homeowner. Caring about the people's comfort. Caring about their security. Why did he go ? Where was he now ? Maybe back at the Old House. Nobody dared to check.*
- I found this place for them. now they tolerate me. i'm usefull.
*The school was an abandonned F.E.M.A base. The hole in the fence made it unfit to secure civilians. That's why Ilya is out everynight, or almost, sometimes giving the job to Lasha, or Grey, or anyone they can trust with not letting visitor in.
Yet there was more visitors than humans in that house, Ilya was sure. They are a very usefull nurse and a very bad soldier.*
- ... who ?
*Their voice is strangled. It sounds more masculine this way. Yay. But they stop before the "are you", in too much pain. They even tried to speak with hands but figures the newcomer, through his mask, could barely see. The night is dark, now that street lights died. The stars are beautiful, tho.*
Despite getting the memo of moving closer, he didn't do anything besides standing in the same stiff way in front of the porch. He only forced himself to step forward once they started speaking, noticing that he wasn't going to understand that far. His movements seemed almost rusty, as if he was a puppet that was being moved by somethingâor someoneâelse. Being here was his fault, after all: what did he expect he would find, going out of his zone? Might as well take what he had.
Despite the little he could see, both because of the hour and his maskâwhich he wouldn't take off no matter whatâhe still realized WHO was in front of him. And listened to his reply. Or tried to, better. It took him a few moments to realize what they were asking.
âI'm... just a cadet patrolling around.â That's all he said, not even a real presentation. On top of that, he was lying. He couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, randomly finding the place. He didn't know how to lie; he had just lately learned how to do it. He never thought he'd need it.
*There is an air of repproach in that hoarse voice. Not really at the agent himself, but the whole situation. F.E.M.A agents always go by two ! It's a rule !
First Rookie, abandonned by his unit after a fight with the Pale Intruder, and now this random guy ? Not even very scary one ! He looks as tall as Ilya... Wich means "not much".
Or maybe there is not enough F.E.M.A agents left to ensure everyone has a comrade ? That was terrible news.
This guy was new. Or not from here. With time, Ilya saw every agent designated to this portion of the city. Sector 7, as say their old map. It might be wrong now. Things change so fast and F.E.M.A is so deorganized !
They consider the young man in front of them, so zaelous about protocol with that gaz mask. They consider the hour of the night and where might be the closest base.*
- ... Are you lost ?
*Maybe some new blood. Another rookie. Not their Rookie tho.*
Shit. He should have figured they would still remember the rules: seeing how despite them not saying directly, the sound of his voiceâwell, little sound it madeâwas enough for him to tell. With the start of the apocalypse, actually, groups started to be assigned in trios with the new amount of recruits that entered. Which made his lie sound even stupider. Speaking of trio, maybe he should have gone back to them... Staying awake for this long usually messed with his head.
He pounded at the questionâdespite in the mess of it all (of his head, at the very least), it took him more than a moment. Not that it was easy to tell, whatever he was thinking, with that mask on. His expression wouldn't have changed without it anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference. Although a part of him just wanted to brush it off, he knew he would never be able to find his way back by himself. He wasn't quite sure he'd trust their directionâif they could give someâbut it might have helped him remember, at least.
âI think I am. First time around here...â And last, he hoped.
*was this guy a poor idiot lost in another part in the city out of his district, or was he bad news ?
Some F.E.M.A agents wanted to be let in the school. One of the biggest survivor's group out there. Bastion of Humanity. It was just so tempting. Either to check for visitors... Or to take people away. Usual F.E.MA stuff no one had to suffer from since... Well, since Ilya, who was the last officially taken at the door of the old house by a patrol. Kind of ironic if you ask them.
Yet no one dared yet ask for anyone here, yet. Mayne because F.E.M.A had enough test subjects already, and enough work on their hands ? Maybe because "a F.E.M.A agent" was already here ? Between Ilya, the Rookie, and Mr.FEMA... This was basically another base at this point !
Maybe this man wanted to make it official ? Seek troubles ? Take someone away ? Ilya would not let him.
But the mufled voice behind the mask sounded young and after all, he was certainly a Human. An alone, lost human, in the dark of the night. With barely a working weapon. Ilya searches on him the proofs of competence, as if they were a reference.
Ilya takes a deep breath, strange amber eyes focused on the somewhat small silhouette, three pupils judging him, seizing him. And judging him fit.*
- ... come in.
*They do not have the voice to add "if you want" or "to check my map", left in their green bag, hanged on the infirmary doorhandle. They just gesture the shy agent to come closer. Not a lot of social cues at the end of the world.*
- ... number ?
*F.E.M.A agents dont ask each others for names anymore. It's easier to have numbers. You get less attached. Ilya had been D-41, in their time.
Section D was purely internal to the camps : little hands working around to make it work. Kept out of decisions and danger. Sections A and B, those who went outside... Ilya was sorry for them. Reaping humans. Fighting visitors. Not something they wanted to do. They were fine with paperwork and customer service, thank you very much. They sometimes had other tasks, cooking or using those muscles to tie the big sail that protected civilians from the heat in the day. It had to be put up every dawn and put down every sunset, or visitors and terrorists would destroy it at night. Wonderful times truly.
They were given a weapon for "internal surveillance" at some point and that was the start of the end. What do you mean, shooting those who try to leave ? When did this place become a prison, instead of a temporary refugee camp ?
No way he'd enter thereâfirst thing that he could filter in the jab of thoughts that filled his head. He had to think logically: how could he just enter a facilityâthat was clearly an old FEMA baseâwith a stranger? But if he was really going to think like that, what about the fact the sun could be up before he found a way back into his zone? He found himself with less choice than what he wantedâand god, would Malko kill him if he found out about this... Maybe he'd manage to find his way back without having to stay for long. That could work...
He could sense the way they were watching him. Nothing he wasn't used to; although usually agents never looked each other in the eyes. He for sure never did.
âD-9.â Was all he muttered. He didn't seem to be quite the talker. He didn't care about the section he was assigned to; by how FEMA was moving lately, there was no point. In one way or another, you'd find yourself doing the opposite you were previously assigned to. Although obviously they wouldn't just push a new recruit outside to gather people. Not because they cared about them, simply since more often than not they'd mess up.
He finally moved forwardâstill with rusty steps. âYou?â He asked. For him, the answer didn't matter enough to wait for one. But maybe in his head, relying on a number like his would sound less uncivil to the agency.
Nine didn't like talking to others, especially when he was alone. But this couldn't be done in any other way... He needed... what did he need, exactly? What could he get out of this? At this point, he wasn't sure himself.
âYou... were one of us, weren't you?â That much was obvious. Thanks for pointing it out! Even though his tone was low, as if it was a chore to push out the words from his mouth. His mask didn't help.
âHow did you manage to actually stay?â He didn't say directly, but it was obvious he meant about their little... problem of where they were from, let's say. But why would HE care?
-đť ( @give-us-your-visitors )
// HERE WE AREEEđ
*Sat on the front porch of the school, looking exhausted, the former-FEMA keeps touching the brace around their neck. It's more of a scarf, really, but it holds bandages strong and keep the wounds from reopening or becoming infected.
The sniper has the security on, now. Pointed down. Never again.
A newcomer in F.E.M.A uniform. Better keep things civil. This was an old base after all. Ilya greets him with a martial nod and encourage him to come closer.*
- ...
*They nod again, slower. Ilya's story is easy to read, if's written all over them. A sniper from an old model, Afghanistan's war. A repurposed Hazmat made into a jacket, the F.E.M.A logo scratched as best as they could but still readable. The pants badly died black, shiny plastic like a trasbag. Old Hazmat model in two pieces. Old uniform from months ago. They don't even have a mask.
They shrug at the second question.*
- ... got lucky.
*Where they ?
Yes, in a way. The old Homeowner refused them in once. And F.E.M.A took them back in. Then, he caved when Ilya came crawling by the window. They came to a truce. He asked for a new place. A bigger one. Ilya had just the one...
That was a good Homeowner. Caring about the people's comfort. Caring about their security. Why did he go ? Where was he now ? Maybe back at the Old House. Nobody dared to check.*
- I found this place for them. now they tolerate me. i'm usefull.
*The school was an abandonned F.E.M.A base. The hole in the fence made it unfit to secure civilians. That's why Ilya is out everynight, or almost, sometimes giving the job to Lasha, or Grey, or anyone they can trust with not letting visitor in.
Yet there was more visitors than humans in that house, Ilya was sure. They are a very usefull nurse and a very bad soldier.*
- ... who ?
*Their voice is strangled. It sounds more masculine this way. Yay. But they stop before the "are you", in too much pain. They even tried to speak with hands but figures the newcomer, through his mask, could barely see. The night is dark, now that street lights died. The stars are beautiful, tho.*
Despite getting the memo of moving closer, he didn't do anything besides standing in the same stiff way in front of the porch. He only forced himself to step forward once they started speaking, noticing that he wasn't going to understand that far. His movements seemed almost rusty, as if he was a puppet that was being moved by somethingâor someoneâelse. Being here was his fault, after all: what did he expect he would find, going out of his zone? Might as well take what he had.
Despite the little he could see, both because of the hour and his maskâwhich he wouldn't take off no matter whatâhe still realized WHO was in front of him. And listened to his reply. Or tried to, better. It took him a few moments to realize what they were asking.
âI'm... just a cadet patrolling around.â That's all he said, not even a real presentation. On top of that, he was lying. He couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, randomly finding the place. He didn't know how to lie; he had just lately learned how to do it. He never thought he'd need it.
*There is an air of repproach in that hoarse voice. Not really at the agent himself, but the whole situation. F.E.M.A agents always go by two ! It's a rule !
First Rookie, abandonned by his unit after a fight with the Pale Intruder, and now this random guy ? Not even very scary one ! He looks as tall as Ilya... Wich means "not much".
Or maybe there is not enough F.E.M.A agents left to ensure everyone has a comrade ? That was terrible news.
This guy was new. Or not from here. With time, Ilya saw every agent designated to this portion of the city. Sector 7, as say their old map. It might be wrong now. Things change so fast and F.E.M.A is so deorganized !
They consider the young man in front of them, so zaelous about protocol with that gaz mask. They consider the hour of the night and where might be the closest base.*
- ... Are you lost ?
*Maybe some new blood. Another rookie. Not their Rookie tho.*
Shit. He should have figured they would still remember the rules: seeing how despite them not saying directly, the sound of his voiceâwell, little sound it madeâwas enough for him to tell. With the start of the apocalypse, actually, groups started to be assigned in trios with the new amount of recruits that entered. Which made his lie sound even stupider. Speaking of trio, maybe he should have gone back to them... Staying awake for this long usually messed with his head.
He pounded at the questionâdespite in the mess of it all (of his head, at the very least), it took him more than a moment. Not that it was easy to tell, whatever he was thinking, with that mask on. His expression wouldn't have changed without it anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference. Although a part of him just wanted to brush it off, he knew he would never be able to find his way back by himself. He wasn't quite sure he'd trust their directionâif they could give someâbut it might have helped him remember, at least.
âI think I am. First time around here...â And last, he hoped.
"I forgot Abt you lolz.. well not lolz, sorry, but would you guys like to last minute join project 9/14 it's my biggest yet and I have a lot of uhm.. uneven teams"
-
Rococo/OOC Ask
// HELLO I'M GONNA REPLY FOR THIS ONEE
also don't worry about it really, I just came back from a loooong pause. what is it about?? is there something I need to do?
"I forgot Abt you lolz.. well not lolz, sorry, but would you guys like to last minute join project 9/14 it's my biggest yet and I have a lot of uhm.. uneven teams"
-
Rococo/OOC Ask
// HELLO I'M GONNA REPLY FOR THIS ONEE
also don't worry about it really, I just came back from a loooong pause. what is it about?? is there something I need to do?
Nine didn't like talking to others, especially when he was alone. But this couldn't be done in any other way... He needed... what did he need, exactly? What could he get out of this? At this point, he wasn't sure himself.
âYou... were one of us, weren't you?â That much was obvious. Thanks for pointing it out! Even though his tone was low, as if it was a chore to push out the words from his mouth. His mask didn't help.
âHow did you manage to actually stay?â He didn't say directly, but it was obvious he meant about their little... problem of where they were from, let's say. But why would HE care?
-đť ( @give-us-your-visitors )
// HERE WE AREEEđ
*Sat on the front porch of the school, looking exhausted, the former-FEMA keeps touching the brace around their neck. It's more of a scarf, really, but it holds bandages strong and keep the wounds from reopening or becoming infected.
The sniper has the security on, now. Pointed down. Never again.
A newcomer in F.E.M.A uniform. Better keep things civil. This was an old base after all. Ilya greets him with a martial nod and encourage him to come closer.*
- ...
*They nod again, slower. Ilya's story is easy to read, if's written all over them. A sniper from an old model, Afghanistan's war. A repurposed Hazmat made into a jacket, the F.E.M.A logo scratched as best as they could but still readable. The pants badly died black, shiny plastic like a trasbag. Old Hazmat model in two pieces. Old uniform from months ago. They don't even have a mask.
They shrug at the second question.*
- ... got lucky.
*Where they ?
Yes, in a way. The old Homeowner refused them in once. And F.E.M.A took them back in. Then, he caved when Ilya came crawling by the window. They came to a truce. He asked for a new place. A bigger one. Ilya had just the one...
That was a good Homeowner. Caring about the people's comfort. Caring about their security. Why did he go ? Where was he now ? Maybe back at the Old House. Nobody dared to check.*
- I found this place for them. now they tolerate me. i'm usefull.
*The school was an abandonned F.E.M.A base. The hole in the fence made it unfit to secure civilians. That's why Ilya is out everynight, or almost, sometimes giving the job to Lasha, or Grey, or anyone they can trust with not letting visitor in.
Yet there was more visitors than humans in that house, Ilya was sure. They are a very usefull nurse and a very bad soldier.*
- ... who ?
*Their voice is strangled. It sounds more masculine this way. Yay. But they stop before the "are you", in too much pain. They even tried to speak with hands but figures the newcomer, through his mask, could barely see. The night is dark, now that street lights died. The stars are beautiful, tho.*
Despite getting the memo of moving closer, he didn't do anything besides standing in the same stiff way in front of the porch. He only forced himself to step forward once they started speaking, noticing that he wasn't going to understand that far. His movements seemed almost rusty, as if he was a puppet that was being moved by somethingâor someoneâelse. Being here was his fault, after all: what did he expect he would find, going out of his zone? Might as well take what he had.
Despite the little he could see, both because of the hour and his maskâwhich he wouldn't take off no matter whatâhe still realized WHO was in front of him. And listened to his reply. Or tried to, better. It took him a few moments to realize what they were asking.
âI'm... just a cadet patrolling around.â That's all he said, not even a real presentation. On top of that, he was lying. He couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, randomly finding the place. He didn't know how to lie; he had just lately learned how to do it. He never thought he'd need it.
âWhat better way to get warmed up to the place, if not answering doubts with us? You might end up answering some of the questions you have as well.â Fourteen said, his tone a bit softer than usual, as he was clearly satisfied to be able to drag Nine with him.
â...Let's just get this over with.â He sighed, clearly not as content.
MORE AND OOC BELOW!
// HIIII remember when I said I had more ocs? Well there we go, new addition, Nine!!! Funnily enough, he was my first and STILL most used FEMA oc. (beware of him he's not in the best headspace)
I wrote more information in my pinned post, so if you want to know more, you can check that one! Since, like mentioned, he's the newest addition, he won't always be around with Commander and Fourteen. When you roleplay with them, you can still assume it's just those two.
âThat's not a part of my job. Workers here should be ready for this to happen.â He didn't bother to hide how little he caredâor how heartless he was. In his head, if he were to comfort everyone who's grieving, workers would stop standing up by themselves.
Fourteen, of course, had a different reaction. Although he kept his usual poker face, his usually tensed shoulders slumped. âI'll see what I can do.â He muttered.
dude⌠your guysâ hazmats are ugly as FUCK! Hhaha!! You look stupid.
<the voice comes from behind- presumably a man by the sound, but upon turning, to view the figure the voice had emanated from the gender becomes a little less clear. Theyâve got a relatively feminine frame, that their voice doesnât quite match. Whatâs most eye catching though, is their obnoxious grin and the bag that jingles at their side, as though itâs full of coins or perhaps shards of glass.>
âđŞ ( @carrying-coins)
Both quickly turn in the direction of the voice, trying to study where it came from. It doesn't seem surprising it didn't fit their appearanceâafter being used to seeing visitors hiding in human skin...
âIf you must know, we are required to wear these hazmat suits... They're made in the most efficient way for us to be safe from the radiations of the sun.â Of course he bothered to explain that too.
Unlike Fourteen, he was more focused on the person, clearly ready to draw his gun but didn't try yet. âWhat the hell are you hiding in your bag, huh?â
<they listen to fourteenâs explanation, unbothered and bored looking. Perhaps theyâre not even listening at all. Itâs difficult to tell by their expression. They turn to face Commander as he begins speaking.>
Oh.. yâknow, jusâ⌠stuff. <they grin wide, much too eager to frustrate anybody who withstands their presence for over three seconds. They enjoy provoking the officers, but of course thereâs nothing of great consequence in their bag.>
He didn't really seem surprised to see how bored they were at his explanationâwho wouldn't be... Though did nothing about it. While Commander was clearly even more agitated, annoyed, than before. If they wanted to anger one of the agents he was the right pick.
âAnd what stuff exactly? You don't really think you can go around without being checked, do you.â He spat down, gripping at the rifle's strip.
my stuff. <âŚhelpful. Theyâre clearly not going to clarify, for theyâre dead-set on being a pain in the ass.>
I think I can, actually. <theyâre sly as a fox. Swift on their feet usually, good at evading people on their tail. Of course, theyâre injured, but theyâre clever nonetheless. Theyâll get away if they must.>
âOh, you think so?â The man taunted, not seeming to take them seriously. He leaned forward towards them, almost tilting his headâhis body language giving out all the mockery his expression couldn't show because of the mask.
âYou don't know who you're messing with, kid.â He continued, the annoyance slipping over once again. He wasn't going to let anyone pass like that. âNothing is yours when you're in our zone.â
Sure I do. <they reply simply, shrugging with something vaguely reminiscent of boredom. How could one be bored while in the presence of a threat with a gun? They seem to be managing just fine.>
I ainât a kid. He looks younger than me. <they point to fourteen. He absolutely does not look younger than them. He looks a good five or so years older, but they donât seem to care.> Anâ you certainly canât take my stuff, can you? I mean id love tâ see you try! Hhaha!! <a challenge. Theyâre poking the bear, out of nothing more than boredom and spite.>
It was pretty clear he wasn't expecting such a calm reaction. Hell, he was used to everyone listening to him no matter what, to see people apologize the moment he stood up too straight. He was a commander, not one of those low range agents.
âI don't-â He sighed. He wasn't going to argue when the reality was obviousâeven with his uniform on. Instead, he tried to motion towards the other. They had no time for this... âSir, we shouldââ
âSHUT the FUCK UP.â He snapped. Not very professional. âAnd YOU.â He turned to them again. âWho the hell do you think you are?! Think I can't do it, huh??â
Who do I think I am? <they pause, considering.> An obnoxious bum on FEMA property. But I think youâre a piece of shit. <they flick him in the nose with a smirk to further emphasize their carelessness.>
Think you canât do what? Blow my damn brains out? No, Iâm very sure you could do that. <a loud laugh follows, deep and mocking. They stand their ground, unmoving in the face of danger. They act like his gun only shoots foam darts, rather than deadly metal bullets.>
Fourteen stilled as the man snappedânot that it was anything new, anyway. He wasn't liking where this was going already. Quite the combo, those two, to say the least. But he just felt like he'd make things worse by trying to get between again.
The other, in the meantime, was basically reeling in anger. Not only by the insult, but by the mocking gesture and laugh as well. Suddenly, almost automatically, as if he did that too often, he grabbed his rifle and pointed it right at their forehead. The cold metal was pressed against their skin in a harsh motion.
âYeah? I'm sure I can too.â His tone was suddenly lowerâclearly, having a weapon was making him feel more in charge. âDo you want to stop being a fucking smartass, or find out?â
<they lean back slightly from the firmness of the metal to their skin. The opening of the muzzle leaves a small whitened circle indented where it had rested for a moment. Their smirk falls some, but for hardly a moment before returning at full force.>
Really? Killinâ innocents âcause they pissed you off? Theyâve reaaally gotta stop givinâ guns tâ whatever dumbass signs up! <they lift one hand to gently point the muzzle away from their forehead, staring him dead in the eyes all the while.>
Iâll stop being a âfuckinâ smartassâ if you really like. <they shrug innocently> dipshit.
âInnocent?â He scoffed. âWith that behavior, you might as well be one of them...â
Once they pointed the gun away from them, he didn't raise it again, but didn't put it back either. Instead, he held the weapon close, a clear warning he wouldn't have a problem drawing it again if he wanted. His eyes behind the mask narrowed at the insult.
âPlaying with a commander can get you in severe problems. It's one of my responsibilities to put ones like you back in their place.â He was clearly proud of his role. Although it was a wonder how they'd let someone like him have it...
Back in my place? Where the hellâs my place? Six feet under after you shoot me dead? Or maybe in oneâa those damn camps youâve got thrown around everywhere?
âŚ
youâre a piece of shit.
<they scowl, eyeing the gun with some form of loathing. Theyâre not exactly on edge, no, only irritated. They sigh, turning on their heel. Theyâve had enough fun they figure, and unless he yanks them back again, they plan to scurry off like a vermin of the night.>
âWhere do you think you're going now.â He quickly spat down, watching them turning before he took a step forward while his grip on the gun tightened. Did they really think he'd just let them go after all that show? Even though doing that would have been the best idea, his prideâthat was already fed by the change of their expressionâwouldn't let him.
âYou think there are no consequences speaking to mâ us, like that? That you can just run off whenever you please?â
<they turn their head over their shoulder, to stare lazily at the commander, except they donât stop moving.>
Sure I can. <they shrug, finally freezing and turning to face him.> Look, whatever âpunishmentâ youâve got in mind better be quick, âcause Iâve got no time tâ bitch around. <they flick the watch on their wrist with a small grin. It doesnât work, but he doesnât need to know that.>
Hey, âs your friend doinâ? Dâyou always interrogate civilians while he stands around awkwardly? âS like a..symbiotic relationship? You do all the work, anâ he offers what, emotional support? So after you kill another dude he can pet you on your big ass head anâ go âshhh, he deserved itâŚâ so it doesnât keep you awake at night? <they duck their head down beneath Commanderâs arm, to get a decent view of Fourteen. Theyâd never miss an opportunity to piss off both officers. Theyâve already got commander mad as a bull⌠they want to see if they can agitate fourteen as well. No point in having one without the other.>
Fourteen clearly wasn't expecting for them to suddenly mention himâusually Commander grabbed others' attention enough his job became making sure he didn't start shooting on sight rather than anything else. Clearly Commander wasn't expecting that either, his mood only worsening. First they kept disrespecting him and now they wanted to divert from the topic as if it was nothing?
âOh, shut the fuck up.â He snapped even more at the jab, taking the chance away from Fourteenâwho was more tensed up than his professional stance required to beâto speak (if he even was going to).
âHe knows how to let the higher ranks do their job unlike someone else.â His glance was so sharp they could feel it even with his mask.
<they wipe their nose with their thumb, hardly paying attention as he talks. They seem bored. Theyâre not meant to be bored. Theyâre meant to be scared.>
Youâre real loud, yâknow that? Kinda surprising a visitor hasnât come tâ check out why itâs so damn noisy already. Youâre practically ringing the dinner bell. <they interrupt his agitated arguing, if only to comment on his volume. They quiet again to listen to his explanation.>
Ohhh⌠so heâs a lap dog?? Hhaha.. <they cock their head over to look at Fourteen again, grinning obnoxiously. They return their gaze to Commander quickly, still smirking.>
He was already giving them a narrowed glare when they interrupted, but acted as if it didn't make his blood boil more than it already was. In the meantime, Fourteen's composure slowly was cracking: he couldn't fully digest how something as important as loyalty was for him, was being casually mocked. (Seems like this guy really had a knack for annoying FEMA officers!)
âLap dog?â He finally spoke up, more quickly than what he should have. He cleared his throat, managing to keep a smooth toneâfor now. âI'm simply following orders-â
âLike you should!â Commander interrupted, with no doubts of who he was referring to.
Awwwe lap dog sits when heâs told tâ sit. Thatâs real nice. Say, dâyou get on your knees tâ suck them off when they tell you, too? If they told you tâ jump off a bridge would you? Dâyou have any respect for yourself?
<they smile too wide, flashing relatively uneven, yellowed teeth at both of them. They think theyâre funny.>
Alright gentlemen, Iâm afraid I donât have all night, so if youâre gonna shoot me I think maybe you should do it now, yâknow? Or if you wanna, I donât knowww⌠let me go? I think now might be a prime time as well! Or dâyou really really really wanna see my pretty eyes first? âS up tâ you guys, but the sunâll be up in âbout an hour or so, so youâd better get a move in with whatever you do!
Fourteen's eye twitched harshly behind his mask, the comments hitting enough. Not that it was something new to hearâfelt like most FEMA workers either missed self respect or respect for others, anyway. Although he didn't reply right away, the one who moved was Commander, who wasn't gonna wait for the occasion to shoot. Yellow teeth? Not a sign? It wasn't like anyone would have known once their body burned under the sun.
Before he could raise his gun again, though, Fourteen placed a firm hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping his movement (sometimes he got the balls to do something, if it was to stop someone from dying).
âYou're right. Dawn is about to be there, and we've wasted each other's time enough. Just... Just go.â He felt like he was going to regret this.
Ah, wonderful!! Jusâ lovely! Goodnight anâ goodbye then, my friends!
<they retreat back into the darkness from roughly the same direction as their original entrance, more then happy to hurry off without a scratch. He likely will regret it. They come back to this spot nearly biweekly, if only to harass whatever unfortunate FEMA agents may be on duty that particular day. With the way rotations between areas go, chances are this will not be the last time this pair sees of them, for theyâll be back here in a while, and heâll be there to pester as always. Commander shouldâve taken the shot while he had a chanceâŚ.>
Fourteen simply started at them, mentally signing the place they were going back toâhe could bet this wasn't going to be the last time they saw them, and that was probably more unfortunate than fortunate. In the meantime, the other was spitting down muttered insults; to both, probably.
âLet's go back to the zone before the sun is up.â Not what Fourteen was expecting him to say: rather, he thought he would have started yelling at him after preventing him from shooting. Although the anger in his tone wasn't hidden.
âYâYes sir!â They both started walking towards the opposite direction they disappeared to.
dude⌠your guysâ hazmats are ugly as FUCK! Hhaha!! You look stupid.
<the voice comes from behind- presumably a man by the sound, but upon turning, to view the figure the voice had emanated from the gender becomes a little less clear. Theyâve got a relatively feminine frame, that their voice doesnât quite match. Whatâs most eye catching though, is their obnoxious grin and the bag that jingles at their side, as though itâs full of coins or perhaps shards of glass.>
âđŞ ( @carrying-coins)
Both quickly turn in the direction of the voice, trying to study where it came from. It doesn't seem surprising it didn't fit their appearanceâafter being used to seeing visitors hiding in human skin...
âIf you must know, we are required to wear these hazmat suits... They're made in the most efficient way for us to be safe from the radiations of the sun.â Of course he bothered to explain that too.
Unlike Fourteen, he was more focused on the person, clearly ready to draw his gun but didn't try yet. âWhat the hell are you hiding in your bag, huh?â
<they listen to fourteenâs explanation, unbothered and bored looking. Perhaps theyâre not even listening at all. Itâs difficult to tell by their expression. They turn to face Commander as he begins speaking.>
Oh.. yâknow, jusâ⌠stuff. <they grin wide, much too eager to frustrate anybody who withstands their presence for over three seconds. They enjoy provoking the officers, but of course thereâs nothing of great consequence in their bag.>
He didn't really seem surprised to see how bored they were at his explanationâwho wouldn't be... Though did nothing about it. While Commander was clearly even more agitated, annoyed, than before. If they wanted to anger one of the agents he was the right pick.
âAnd what stuff exactly? You don't really think you can go around without being checked, do you.â He spat down, gripping at the rifle's strip.
my stuff. <âŚhelpful. Theyâre clearly not going to clarify, for theyâre dead-set on being a pain in the ass.>
I think I can, actually. <theyâre sly as a fox. Swift on their feet usually, good at evading people on their tail. Of course, theyâre injured, but theyâre clever nonetheless. Theyâll get away if they must.>
âOh, you think so?â The man taunted, not seeming to take them seriously. He leaned forward towards them, almost tilting his headâhis body language giving out all the mockery his expression couldn't show because of the mask.
âYou don't know who you're messing with, kid.â He continued, the annoyance slipping over once again. He wasn't going to let anyone pass like that. âNothing is yours when you're in our zone.â
Sure I do. <they reply simply, shrugging with something vaguely reminiscent of boredom. How could one be bored while in the presence of a threat with a gun? They seem to be managing just fine.>
I ainât a kid. He looks younger than me. <they point to fourteen. He absolutely does not look younger than them. He looks a good five or so years older, but they donât seem to care.> Anâ you certainly canât take my stuff, can you? I mean id love tâ see you try! Hhaha!! <a challenge. Theyâre poking the bear, out of nothing more than boredom and spite.>
It was pretty clear he wasn't expecting such a calm reaction. Hell, he was used to everyone listening to him no matter what, to see people apologize the moment he stood up too straight. He was a commander, not one of those low range agents.
âI don't-â He sighed. He wasn't going to argue when the reality was obviousâeven with his uniform on. Instead, he tried to motion towards the other. They had no time for this... âSir, we shouldââ
âSHUT the FUCK UP.â He snapped. Not very professional. âAnd YOU.â He turned to them again. âWho the hell do you think you are?! Think I can't do it, huh??â
Who do I think I am? <they pause, considering.> An obnoxious bum on FEMA property. But I think youâre a piece of shit. <they flick him in the nose with a smirk to further emphasize their carelessness.>
Think you canât do what? Blow my damn brains out? No, Iâm very sure you could do that. <a loud laugh follows, deep and mocking. They stand their ground, unmoving in the face of danger. They act like his gun only shoots foam darts, rather than deadly metal bullets.>
Fourteen stilled as the man snappedânot that it was anything new, anyway. He wasn't liking where this was going already. Quite the combo, those two, to say the least. But he just felt like he'd make things worse by trying to get between again.
The other, in the meantime, was basically reeling in anger. Not only by the insult, but by the mocking gesture and laugh as well. Suddenly, almost automatically, as if he did that too often, he grabbed his rifle and pointed it right at their forehead. The cold metal was pressed against their skin in a harsh motion.
âYeah? I'm sure I can too.â His tone was suddenly lowerâclearly, having a weapon was making him feel more in charge. âDo you want to stop being a fucking smartass, or find out?â
<they lean back slightly from the firmness of the metal to their skin. The opening of the muzzle leaves a small whitened circle indented where it had rested for a moment. Their smirk falls some, but for hardly a moment before returning at full force.>
Really? Killinâ innocents âcause they pissed you off? Theyâve reaaally gotta stop givinâ guns tâ whatever dumbass signs up! <they lift one hand to gently point the muzzle away from their forehead, staring him dead in the eyes all the while.>
Iâll stop being a âfuckinâ smartassâ if you really like. <they shrug innocently> dipshit.
âInnocent?â He scoffed. âWith that behavior, you might as well be one of them...â
Once they pointed the gun away from them, he didn't raise it again, but didn't put it back either. Instead, he held the weapon close, a clear warning he wouldn't have a problem drawing it again if he wanted. His eyes behind the mask narrowed at the insult.
âPlaying with a commander can get you in severe problems. It's one of my responsibilities to put ones like you back in their place.â He was clearly proud of his role. Although it was a wonder how they'd let someone like him have it...
Back in my place? Where the hellâs my place? Six feet under after you shoot me dead? Or maybe in oneâa those damn camps youâve got thrown around everywhere?
âŚ
youâre a piece of shit.
<they scowl, eyeing the gun with some form of loathing. Theyâre not exactly on edge, no, only irritated. They sigh, turning on their heel. Theyâve had enough fun they figure, and unless he yanks them back again, they plan to scurry off like a vermin of the night.>
âWhere do you think you're going now.â He quickly spat down, watching them turning before he took a step forward while his grip on the gun tightened. Did they really think he'd just let them go after all that show? Even though doing that would have been the best idea, his prideâthat was already fed by the change of their expressionâwouldn't let him.
âYou think there are no consequences speaking to mâ us, like that? That you can just run off whenever you please?â
<they turn their head over their shoulder, to stare lazily at the commander, except they donât stop moving.>
Sure I can. <they shrug, finally freezing and turning to face him.> Look, whatever âpunishmentâ youâve got in mind better be quick, âcause Iâve got no time tâ bitch around. <they flick the watch on their wrist with a small grin. It doesnât work, but he doesnât need to know that.>
Hey, âs your friend doinâ? Dâyou always interrogate civilians while he stands around awkwardly? âS like a..symbiotic relationship? You do all the work, anâ he offers what, emotional support? So after you kill another dude he can pet you on your big ass head anâ go âshhh, he deserved itâŚâ so it doesnât keep you awake at night? <they duck their head down beneath Commanderâs arm, to get a decent view of Fourteen. Theyâd never miss an opportunity to piss off both officers. Theyâve already got commander mad as a bull⌠they want to see if they can agitate fourteen as well. No point in having one without the other.>
Fourteen clearly wasn't expecting for them to suddenly mention himâusually Commander grabbed others' attention enough his job became making sure he didn't start shooting on sight rather than anything else. Clearly Commander wasn't expecting that either, his mood only worsening. First they kept disrespecting him and now they wanted to divert from the topic as if it was nothing?
âOh, shut the fuck up.â He snapped even more at the jab, taking the chance away from Fourteenâwho was more tensed up than his professional stance required to beâto speak (if he even was going to).
âHe knows how to let the higher ranks do their job unlike someone else.â His glance was so sharp they could feel it even with his mask.
<they wipe their nose with their thumb, hardly paying attention as he talks. They seem bored. Theyâre not meant to be bored. Theyâre meant to be scared.>
Youâre real loud, yâknow that? Kinda surprising a visitor hasnât come tâ check out why itâs so damn noisy already. Youâre practically ringing the dinner bell. <they interrupt his agitated arguing, if only to comment on his volume. They quiet again to listen to his explanation.>
Ohhh⌠so heâs a lap dog?? Hhaha.. <they cock their head over to look at Fourteen again, grinning obnoxiously. They return their gaze to Commander quickly, still smirking.>
He was already giving them a narrowed glare when they interrupted, but acted as if it didn't make his blood boil more than it already was. In the meantime, Fourteen's composure slowly was cracking: he couldn't fully digest how something as important as loyalty was for him, was being casually mocked. (Seems like this guy really had a knack for annoying FEMA officers!)
âLap dog?â He finally spoke up, more quickly than what he should have. He cleared his throat, managing to keep a smooth toneâfor now. âI'm simply following orders-â
âLike you should!â Commander interrupted, with no doubts of who he was referring to.
Awwwe lap dog sits when heâs told tâ sit. Thatâs real nice. Say, dâyou get on your knees tâ suck them off when they tell you, too? If they told you tâ jump off a bridge would you? Dâyou have any respect for yourself?
<they smile too wide, flashing relatively uneven, yellowed teeth at both of them. They think theyâre funny.>
Alright gentlemen, Iâm afraid I donât have all night, so if youâre gonna shoot me I think maybe you should do it now, yâknow? Or if you wanna, I donât knowww⌠let me go? I think now might be a prime time as well! Or dâyou really really really wanna see my pretty eyes first? âS up tâ you guys, but the sunâll be up in âbout an hour or so, so youâd better get a move in with whatever you do!
Fourteen's eye twitched harshly behind his mask, the comments hitting enough. Not that it was something new to hearâfelt like most FEMA workers either missed self respect or respect for others, anyway. Although he didn't reply right away, the one who moved was Commander, who wasn't gonna wait for the occasion to shoot. Yellow teeth? Not a sign? It wasn't like anyone would have known once their body burned under the sun.
Before he could raise his gun again, though, Fourteen placed a firm hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping his movement (sometimes he got the balls to do something, if it was to stop someone from dying).
âYou're right. Dawn is about to be there, and we've wasted each other's time enough. Just... Just go.â He felt like he was going to regret this.
...I have a deal. You may take me. Do whatever you want with me. But you leave the school alone. I won't fight back.
I only offer this once.
-@asksinsnakeman
Well, that was... new to hear, someone giving themselves directly. They've seen people sell out their families just to be safe from staying in a quarantine zone. But hey, what was actually surprising in an apocalypse like this?
Fourteen looked over to the other next to him, any sign of what he thought, but instead his eyes were locked on the... monster in front of them. He had no better word to describe him.
âYou... want us to take you?â He repeated, suspicion lacing his gruff tone. As much as the idea pleased him, neither got close yet. No point in lowering their guard with a trick like that. âFor a school?â
He quickly scowled. What was he even talking about? âOur quarantine zones aren't a place for trades. And the access is completely limited.â Of course it should have been worth catching something like that for a bit of a mess, but still...
dude⌠your guysâ hazmats are ugly as FUCK! Hhaha!! You look stupid.
<the voice comes from behind- presumably a man by the sound, but upon turning, to view the figure the voice had emanated from the gender becomes a little less clear. Theyâve got a relatively feminine frame, that their voice doesnât quite match. Whatâs most eye catching though, is their obnoxious grin and the bag that jingles at their side, as though itâs full of coins or perhaps shards of glass.>
âđŞ ( @carrying-coins)
Both quickly turn in the direction of the voice, trying to study where it came from. It doesn't seem surprising it didn't fit their appearanceâafter being used to seeing visitors hiding in human skin...
âIf you must know, we are required to wear these hazmat suits... They're made in the most efficient way for us to be safe from the radiations of the sun.â Of course he bothered to explain that too.
Unlike Fourteen, he was more focused on the person, clearly ready to draw his gun but didn't try yet. âWhat the hell are you hiding in your bag, huh?â
<they listen to fourteenâs explanation, unbothered and bored looking. Perhaps theyâre not even listening at all. Itâs difficult to tell by their expression. They turn to face Commander as he begins speaking.>
Oh.. yâknow, jusâ⌠stuff. <they grin wide, much too eager to frustrate anybody who withstands their presence for over three seconds. They enjoy provoking the officers, but of course thereâs nothing of great consequence in their bag.>
He didn't really seem surprised to see how bored they were at his explanationâwho wouldn't be... Though did nothing about it. While Commander was clearly even more agitated, annoyed, than before. If they wanted to anger one of the agents he was the right pick.
âAnd what stuff exactly? You don't really think you can go around without being checked, do you.â He spat down, gripping at the rifle's strip.
my stuff. <âŚhelpful. Theyâre clearly not going to clarify, for theyâre dead-set on being a pain in the ass.>
I think I can, actually. <theyâre sly as a fox. Swift on their feet usually, good at evading people on their tail. Of course, theyâre injured, but theyâre clever nonetheless. Theyâll get away if they must.>
âOh, you think so?â The man taunted, not seeming to take them seriously. He leaned forward towards them, almost tilting his headâhis body language giving out all the mockery his expression couldn't show because of the mask.
âYou don't know who you're messing with, kid.â He continued, the annoyance slipping over once again. He wasn't going to let anyone pass like that. âNothing is yours when you're in our zone.â
Sure I do. <they reply simply, shrugging with something vaguely reminiscent of boredom. How could one be bored while in the presence of a threat with a gun? They seem to be managing just fine.>
I ainât a kid. He looks younger than me. <they point to fourteen. He absolutely does not look younger than them. He looks a good five or so years older, but they donât seem to care.> Anâ you certainly canât take my stuff, can you? I mean id love tâ see you try! Hhaha!! <a challenge. Theyâre poking the bear, out of nothing more than boredom and spite.>
It was pretty clear he wasn't expecting such a calm reaction. Hell, he was used to everyone listening to him no matter what, to see people apologize the moment he stood up too straight. He was a commander, not one of those low range agents.
âI don't-â He sighed. He wasn't going to argue when the reality was obviousâeven with his uniform on. Instead, he tried to motion towards the other. They had no time for this... âSir, we shouldââ
âSHUT the FUCK UP.â He snapped. Not very professional. âAnd YOU.â He turned to them again. âWho the hell do you think you are?! Think I can't do it, huh??â
Who do I think I am? <they pause, considering.> An obnoxious bum on FEMA property. But I think youâre a piece of shit. <they flick him in the nose with a smirk to further emphasize their carelessness.>
Think you canât do what? Blow my damn brains out? No, Iâm very sure you could do that. <a loud laugh follows, deep and mocking. They stand their ground, unmoving in the face of danger. They act like his gun only shoots foam darts, rather than deadly metal bullets.>
Fourteen stilled as the man snappedânot that it was anything new, anyway. He wasn't liking where this was going already. Quite the combo, those two, to say the least. But he just felt like he'd make things worse by trying to get between again.
The other, in the meantime, was basically reeling in anger. Not only by the insult, but by the mocking gesture and laugh as well. Suddenly, almost automatically, as if he did that too often, he grabbed his rifle and pointed it right at their forehead. The cold metal was pressed against their skin in a harsh motion.
âYeah? I'm sure I can too.â His tone was suddenly lowerâclearly, having a weapon was making him feel more in charge. âDo you want to stop being a fucking smartass, or find out?â
<they lean back slightly from the firmness of the metal to their skin. The opening of the muzzle leaves a small whitened circle indented where it had rested for a moment. Their smirk falls some, but for hardly a moment before returning at full force.>
Really? Killinâ innocents âcause they pissed you off? Theyâve reaaally gotta stop givinâ guns tâ whatever dumbass signs up! <they lift one hand to gently point the muzzle away from their forehead, staring him dead in the eyes all the while.>
Iâll stop being a âfuckinâ smartassâ if you really like. <they shrug innocently> dipshit.
âInnocent?â He scoffed. âWith that behavior, you might as well be one of them...â
Once they pointed the gun away from them, he didn't raise it again, but didn't put it back either. Instead, he held the weapon close, a clear warning he wouldn't have a problem drawing it again if he wanted. His eyes behind the mask narrowed at the insult.
âPlaying with a commander can get you in severe problems. It's one of my responsibilities to put ones like you back in their place.â He was clearly proud of his role. Although it was a wonder how they'd let someone like him have it...
Back in my place? Where the hellâs my place? Six feet under after you shoot me dead? Or maybe in oneâa those damn camps youâve got thrown around everywhere?
âŚ
youâre a piece of shit.
<they scowl, eyeing the gun with some form of loathing. Theyâre not exactly on edge, no, only irritated. They sigh, turning on their heel. Theyâve had enough fun they figure, and unless he yanks them back again, they plan to scurry off like a vermin of the night.>
âWhere do you think you're going now.â He quickly spat down, watching them turning before he took a step forward while his grip on the gun tightened. Did they really think he'd just let them go after all that show? Even though doing that would have been the best idea, his prideâthat was already fed by the change of their expressionâwouldn't let him.
âYou think there are no consequences speaking to mâ us, like that? That you can just run off whenever you please?â
<they turn their head over their shoulder, to stare lazily at the commander, except they donât stop moving.>
Sure I can. <they shrug, finally freezing and turning to face him.> Look, whatever âpunishmentâ youâve got in mind better be quick, âcause Iâve got no time tâ bitch around. <they flick the watch on their wrist with a small grin. It doesnât work, but he doesnât need to know that.>
Hey, âs your friend doinâ? Dâyou always interrogate civilians while he stands around awkwardly? âS like a..symbiotic relationship? You do all the work, anâ he offers what, emotional support? So after you kill another dude he can pet you on your big ass head anâ go âshhh, he deserved itâŚâ so it doesnât keep you awake at night? <they duck their head down beneath Commanderâs arm, to get a decent view of Fourteen. Theyâd never miss an opportunity to piss off both officers. Theyâve already got commander mad as a bull⌠they want to see if they can agitate fourteen as well. No point in having one without the other.>
Fourteen clearly wasn't expecting for them to suddenly mention himâusually Commander grabbed others' attention enough his job became making sure he didn't start shooting on sight rather than anything else. Clearly Commander wasn't expecting that either, his mood only worsening. First they kept disrespecting him and now they wanted to divert from the topic as if it was nothing?
âOh, shut the fuck up.â He snapped even more at the jab, taking the chance away from Fourteenâwho was more tensed up than his professional stance required to beâto speak (if he even was going to).
âHe knows how to let the higher ranks do their job unlike someone else.â His glance was so sharp they could feel it even with his mask.
<they wipe their nose with their thumb, hardly paying attention as he talks. They seem bored. Theyâre not meant to be bored. Theyâre meant to be scared.>
Youâre real loud, yâknow that? Kinda surprising a visitor hasnât come tâ check out why itâs so damn noisy already. Youâre practically ringing the dinner bell. <they interrupt his agitated arguing, if only to comment on his volume. They quiet again to listen to his explanation.>
Ohhh⌠so heâs a lap dog?? Hhaha.. <they cock their head over to look at Fourteen again, grinning obnoxiously. They return their gaze to Commander quickly, still smirking.>
He was already giving them a narrowed glare when they interrupted, but acted as if it didn't make his blood boil more than it already was. In the meantime, Fourteen's composure slowly was cracking: he couldn't fully digest how something as important as loyalty was for him, was being casually mocked. (Seems like this guy really had a knack for annoying FEMA officers!)
âLap dog?â He finally spoke up, more quickly than what he should have. He cleared his throat, managing to keep a smooth toneâfor now. âI'm simply following orders-â
âLike you should!â Commander interrupted, with no doubts of who he was referring to.
