@miitochondrial || We Messed It Up
"Oh fuck." Her dad taught her that- the 'naughty word'. She didn't often use it but Dream knew well enough that it meant something bad. That it meant something had gone wrong, that they needed to get out of here that instant. Though, it wasn't a required signal; the blaring red lights that flashed throughout the facility was enough indication, not to mention the siren that wailed and the voice that called for backup in the room that she had kicked open with a crowbar. "Oh no- no, no, no!"
They've had their fair share of infiltration missions; times where they've gotten past traps and bypassed security. Neither of the children expected the metal door to be equipped with an alarm system, much less one that would alert every single scientist within the building, May quickly grabbing whatever document sat on the desk before rushing out.
When she got home, she'd have to steal the web shooters. It'd be a very useful piece of equipment, to have webbing that'd help the both of them in the midst of running- or swinging- away. She always took to going on foot, her brother having never learned how to bond and therefore not willing to until they both knew what it'd entail.
And now she's running, her brother constantly shifting between a state of solidity and liquid over her face. The sounds, she noticed. They bothered him, she realised; it was something she observed when Dad was trying to fix an old radio he'd found and both her other parents were in an intense state of pain. She tried helping by reaching up and pulling Dream off her face, cupped hands holding him as the documents were tucked inside a coat pocket, still running as fast as she could.
In this moment, she didn't care about a revealed identity. She needed to get home, and fast, shoving her symbiote brother into a small custom-made pocket before jumping upwards and crawling up the wall that they'd entered from. The ceiling panel was still moved aside, the moonlight guiding her, until a bullet had run directly through to her chest.
The burning sensation that spread across her body forced her into losing focus, the girl falling from where she had attempted to escape and landing on her back with a painful thud. Blood seeped through her shirt, stained her fingers when she reached up to touch and try to asses her situation. Nothing could describe this sudden rush of panic that she, a teenager, would die.
