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Today's Document
if i look back, i am lost
Mike Driver
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Color Me Curious
seen from United Kingdom
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@zerosxm-blog1
A shiver ran down Chromes’ back as the man spoke, the smallest inkling of fear rousing in her stomach, but, she knew what he said was true. She may not be a very strong person in fight, but, he knew she wasn’t a weakling. After a moment of awkward silence, she mumbled out a short. “Sorry.”
“It’s nothing.” Dismissive, cold---it’s literally impossible to hurt his
feelings. “Are you okay?” There’s slight concern. A rarity for him.
“I know that look on your face.” Chrome said softly, “You have the look everyone else has– that I’m small and weak.” she might’ve been overreacting, but, she felt like she needed to stand up for herself. “I can handle myself.”
He knows he’s generally hard to read, so his lips curl into a small
smile at how spicy she’s being today. “If I thought you were weak,
I wouldn’t have taught you to start a fire. I would have slit your throat
& shown you mercy.” Chilling words & he means every. Last. One.
“But you are small.”
“Stop looking at me like I’m weak.” Chrome mumbled, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her trident tightly. She was tired of being judged; she could fight, just like everyone else.
Rubbing his head slowly---the migraine is getting worse.
“Your body wasn’t made to take on vast numbers of men
& mine was. You’re not weak, just different, so I treat you
as such. A specialized unit is a specialized unit.”
Send “You’re hot when you’re angry” for my muse’s reaction to your muse saying this.
He has at least made one conclusion: this one must be a stray dog that has no sense of territories. Colonello may not like the type of people his employers are, he has taken up a possessive nature over these grounds; and fortunately for this newcomer, he is in no mood to maintain bombed landscapes today.
For now, he puts the name and face to memory: Zen.
“If you came here not knowing who I am, then you gotta be the stupidest person alive, kora.” Not that he liked his identity to be known throughout, hence only selected people know his actual name. He sighs in some annoyance, gun pulled back and hoisted by him. “You tell me how you end up here first. And why.”
“Names don’t really matter though, do they.” They are so replaceable and
breakable. So breakable that his was exchanged for a serial number. “Should
I start with the human experimentation, mercy killing my own men because
they couldn’t function in normal society after the war, the retroactive amnesia,
or accidentally setting a coup into motion?”
Really, there’s a lot of ground to cover. “After all that a man needs a vacation.
Besides, having a name is new to me. May as well put it to use.” Meet people.
Interesting people. “Can’t say I’ve ever been on a ferris wheel either. Could
be fun.”
And a long sigh. “That and networking. I need to make money eventually and I
am not interested in interacting with human traffickers---this place is known for
keeping that sort of thing out.” Zen’s morals may have been slim to none, but he
still sees the eyes of his comrades in every trafficked child he meets.
“If you were any human, you know entering without permission serves you nothing good, kora.” That, and Colonello has never taken lightly to anyone who oversteps the boundary of his territory—–it is his nature and duty as a watchful sniper. The only reason this one intruder does not yet have a bullet coming for him is because the soldier has at least some sense in him to treat visitors to Mafialand with caution first, even if they are a snob ( most mafia are anyway ).
“State your name,” is his routine order, gesturing with his gun. “And put out that thing. This ain’t the grounds for it.” That one is just because he plainly despises the character of the man. He is inevitably reminded of certain character whose guts he hated to the core; it is unnerving.
“Good? I don’t seem to understand the term.” Which is true enough---Zen
had been called monster hundreds of times, but being good or acting good?
No, that wasn’t a thing that he was able to easily comprehend. So angry this
one was. What had hurt him?
“Zen.” He scratched the back of his head, pouting a little at being scolded. This
wasn’t the fucking military & he could do what he wanted. Of course, this man
was giving orders, but he wasn’t really counting them as such. Now that he had
been freed, things like this didn’t concern him quite as much. He took another
drag just to spite the other before pushing the ash covered head of the
cigarette against the flesh of his arm. “Who are you?” He had completely
forgotten the man’s name---oops.
“Listen to me. You’re going to be okay, all right?”
“My body heals at an accelerated rate.” He’s scooping out the bullets &
plucking out the shrapnel with a pair of tweezers. It feels more like a stubbed
toe than a severe wound, though he understands why she’s worried. “You
don’t need to worry.” How strange, the little girl still finds him to be an
acceptable companion. Then again, she’s with Mukuro, so that says something
about her overall mental fortitude.
Zen feels a little lightheaded from blood loss, but the gauze slows the bleeding
enough to where he feels comfortable sewing himself back up. He’s not a total
jerk---he certainly wouldn’t ask her to do it for him. “You worry too much. This
is what I was created to do.”
Death and Dying Starters
“Please… please don’t go.”
“Don’t you give up. Don’t you dare.”
“Just let me go.”
“You’re not gonna make it.”
“_______ is dead.”
“I’m not gonna make it.”
“Listen to me. You’re going to be okay, all right?”
“Stay with me.”
“It’s my time.”
“You can’t stop it, I’ve had this coming for a long time.”
“J-Just keep talking, ok?”
“C'mon, stay awake for me.”
“Help is coming soon, I promise.”
“Stay with me.”
“I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Don’t you die on me.”
“I need you.”
“I’m so tired… just let me sleep.”
“I’m not gonna make it.”
“Would you hold my hand?”
“Please, just… tell me it’s gonna be okay.”
Ocean blue eyes are narrowed in scrutiny at the newcomer.
Colonello does not consider himself a welcoming committee, knowing his own distrustful personality well—–especially toward those that talk big. Which is why he keeps himself to his side of the island, choosing to await his visitors after they survive the test on the front-end… But when one drops in without so much of a notice and denounces him, he has all reasons to be hostile.
“Watch your mouth and know your place, maggot.” Pointed is his anti-tank at the face of the newcomer, finger to the trigger. He has no intention to answer for now, as much as he likes to correct the disparaging though. “If you know anything about the mafia, it’s to not trust what you see. You’re obviously not from around here.”
“Oh? Can’t say I’ve been called that since they gave me a serial number.” His
lips are still curved into an easy smile. He can point the big, shiny weapon at
Zen all he wanted to, there was no chance in the man’s tone or body
language. Zen all ready knew that he could literally dodge a bullet---no matter
how large that bullet was.
“Or maybe I’m just teasing you---either way, seems that it worked.” He pulled
out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket & lit one, taking a long drag. This one
was more interesting than the previous tests---though Zen had found the
entrance to be a literal walk in the park.
@colonelloldier
“I honestly don’t understand this place---” How he could be the most
wanted man in a nation, but they still let him in because he was more
on the savory side as far as villains went. “But it’s amusing, I’ll give it
that.” He killed his own soldiers; he killed anyone that got in his way.
But he still isn’t disgusting enough to be disallowed from Mafia Land.
“Though I can see why human traffickers & drug lords wouldn’t be wanted
in a place like this.”
He eyes the blond for a moment, though his gaze drifts off like it always
does. Making eye contact isn’t something he concerns himself with. Not
now since he’s not in the military & doesn’t need to do it. People always
say strange things about his eyes too---or the angular curves of his
jaw in the Princess’ case. “Strange to see a soldier in the mafia. Couldn’t
adapt to civilian life? Or were you just unwanted there?” Piercing questions,
yet they are innocent enough coming from Zen’s lips.
@langurorousness
“You have a unique style of killing--- I can appreciate that.”
There’s a slight upward curve to his lips, distant gaze finally
settles on the blond. The blood that coats the ground is
mesmerizing to look at & he has a hard time not imagining it
as a work of art---in his mind, it is, but he knows his thought
process is not necessarily correct. “Why wear a crown?”
After the girl stood in confusion for a few more moments, she returned to her make shift bed,though, her eyes stayed on the man. A fire? “N-no…this is my first time o-out here in the cold.” she said. She knew a fire could help, but, she didn’t know how to make one.
“I’ll teach you.” It’s a basic thing that everyone should know how to do.
He has flint & steel, but a lighter would probably be easier for her. “I’ll
crack a window---if the warehouse fills with smoke it defeats the purpose.”
Granted the windows were really high up---this would take more than a
second. Without giving the girl much warning, he began to climb up the
boxes and errant piles of debris until he was able to reach a window. The
window made a rather unattractive screeching noise as the rusted metal bars
shifted, but he cracked it open enough to allow the smoke an easy exit. “It’ll
have to be a small one---” The warehouse itself was made of cement, but the
shit inside of it made for one big tinderbox.
