#authorizeduse

[timebastard]

@authorizeduse said: it's spankins until the feelings come in then it becomes temma.

gotta SOB NOW

[witchwood]

gina had been stationed at the south side of hatchetfield. she was keeping comms with john and the other leaders throughout the island through their walkie talkies, often giving status updates on their happenings. their job was to cast a wide net for survivors. collect and question. exterminate those who were beyond saving. it was not the time to get emotional, but her brother was in the back of her mind, especially when she saw the helicopter lift from oakley park and soon crash to the ground. she knew john was there, so she abandoned her post to sprint for the nearest vehicle to get to the park.

she barely put the car into park before she jumped out of it, eyes frantically searching for her brother before she found him. he was staggering and holding his shoulder, and she rushed to him. but before she could get to him, she watched his hand thrust forward. gina, stay back. she noticed the blood on his hands. not red. blue. the same blue that was leaking from his nostril and the corners of his mouth. the most horrific sight she could imagine.

she had refused to exterminate him. she had insisted that they observe him to see if there was a cure in sight. her peers looked at her like she was insane, but she wasn't wavering. as the military lifted from the ruins of hatchetfield and settled back at base, john was placed in isolation. a ten by ten cell with a simple bed and toilet. on the wall was a large mirror that she could peer in, but he'd only see his reflection.

today was another routine day of watching over him. she had only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, where she had stayed in the observation room curled up with a blanket and pillow that schaffer had gotten her a while back. eat, sleep, and shower. those were the three ingredients of feeling human, shaffer had told her. so long as she kept those up, she'd be allowed to stay with her brother. gina knew the statement was true. she had spent many years in survival mode of barely being able to keep up with those three tasks.

after her morning coffee, she grabbed her clipboard and looked over the routine questions in black and white. simple questions as if her entire world wasn't at stake here. " good morning, john, " she greeted @authorizeduse over the intercom, setting her jaw into place as her grip tightened on the clipboard. shaffer and company had offered to take over this task, but she had refused. she needed to be the one to do this every day. " are you ready for your morning questionnaire? "