@badtrigger liked for a starter!
Three days on this island, it's still not getting any easier. Victory's hair is always a frizzed mess, the sun is always beating on any part of her exposed, and Keamy keeps her running around like a dog. She appreciates the opportunity. More than he can ever know. But fuck, can't a girl take a seat once in a while? She practically collapses into the all-too-familiar military grade mattress she was given at every chance. No time to socialize with her bunkmate or settle in more than her favorite blanket messily folded on her bed.
Victory cracks her neck before leaning down to knot her boots. Her fingers stutter from exhaustion, making the tying process harder than usual. She pauses, taking a breath before continuing. The other soldiers start to file out before she finishes, leaving a suffocating silence as she tries to rush through getting ready.
She finds Keamy outside of his office, slowing down as she approaches, but having to pick right back up as he starts off in the opposite direction. It's always go, go, go. No time for pleasantries.
Too-tight shoes carry her through the compound, right on Keamy's heels to keep from getting left behind. Vic follows her new boss out to the shooting range, trying to keep landmarks straight in her mind in case she ever needs to find her way back. But it all looks the same to her foreign eyes.
"Sir? Mr. Keamy, sir? How far is the range from here?"