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Post by Max Griffiths on Sept 20, 2011 23:00:14 GMT -5
How should I know? I was stunned, handcuffed, and left in the middle of the road, so I'm assuming they got away! Now get these damn cuffs off, would you?
*I stare at him for several long seconds, finally deciding he's telling the truth and doesn't know where they went. I don't believe their raid went as planned, however. Killjoys are remarkably possessive of their vehicles, and a non-regulation car is parked behind the rocks off to one side of the highway. I'd have left the draculoid where he was, but his insistant demands for my aid start to get on my nerves, so I take a moment to silence him.*
*Without the distraction I can focus all my attention on tracking the killjoys. The car means they left in a hurry. The blood suggests at least one was seriously injured - likely more from the number of bloodstains. The location and appearant of the stains tells another story; the main fight was in the center of the road, with one person being dragged and two others carried out of the fight. Fragments of cloth and a damaged aloe plant tell me some of the wounds were hastily treated, and as I follow the trail across the highway, all the droplets converge - and then vanish.*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Sept 20, 2011 23:03:36 GMT -5
*I frown, staring down at the dirt. Footprints, blood splatters, scuffs... but only a few of the pairs of footprints leaves the spot, returning to the far side of the highway and the tire treads of a second car. Looking from one spot to the other, I start to wonder... but the chances of that are so slim. Only Better Living has helicopters. But if the killjoys had been captured the draculoids would not have been left here. And the treads leading away from the spot were walking, not running.*
*My suspicion is confirmed when I inspect the ground more closely and notice the circular pattern of the windblown dirt. The killjoys have a helicopter.*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Sept 22, 2011 22:51:26 GMT -5
*Staring up at the sky, I feel my frustration building. I can't track a helicopter. There's a slight chance I can follow the tire tracks of the car the killjoys took with them, but that's assuming they went to the same location. Besides, a cursory check is enough to confirm that the pavement of the highway quickly obliterates the trail. The only hint I have is the direction the car started off on, so I get back in my own vehicle and start retracing my path back northwards. The farther I go, however, the more my speed decreases. I stop completely when I pass the first exit, turning off the car in the middle of the highway. My hands clench the steering wheel and I stare straight ahead as I admit to myself that I've hit a dead end. I can't track the killjoys. I can't track Red.*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Sept 24, 2011 18:53:34 GMT -5
*After a moment of inaction, I start moving again. Whether or not the killjoys went this direction, I have nowhere better to go. I don't go more than 15 miles per hour over the speed limit, because if I'm unlucky enough to pass one of the patrols I don't want them to make a fuss. It would complicate things. I momentarily take my foot off the gas at the border of Zone 6, but decide not to stop. I've never been far outside the 6 Zones. Perhaps I'll find something interesting.*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Sept 27, 2011 11:27:33 GMT -5
*The sun is just starting to set and I'm only a few miles across the border when I see a pickup truck heading towards me. No Better Living employee would drive a vehicle like that, so I swerve into the center of the highway and slam on my breaks, stopping sideways. I don't get out immediately, waiting to see if I recognize the killjoys.*
(Moving to But I'll Take What I Want, page 38)
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Post by Max Griffiths on Oct 1, 2011 0:38:31 GMT -5
(Copied from But I'll Take What I Want, pg. 47)
*Pulling back onto the road, I check my rearview mirror only to be sure I'm not being followed. I feel strangely calm when the house disappears behind the trees, and as I feel the tires meet the pavement of the highway some time later, it occurs to me that it might be because Red's in the car with me. I dismiss the thought. If it holds any truth, it's surely only the added security of a partner.*
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Post by redhavoc on Oct 1, 2011 0:47:21 GMT -5
*I clutch my side a little, but then relax as we drive. I watch the trees for a while and then begin to drift asleep, vaugly aware that my notebook slides out of my hand and drops to my feet...I think I dream of killjoys...*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Oct 2, 2011 0:39:23 GMT -5
*As the sky starts to darken once again and we near the Zones, I start having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Counting backwards in my head, I realize I haven't slept in nearly 34 hours. I try to keep going, but after swerving across the center line of the highway three times I admit that I need rest. I take the next exit, pulling off the road behind a deserted gas station long since drained of fuel. I stop the car and turn off the lights. I think Red's bandages might need changing, but just set the first aid kit on the dashboard in front of her before leaning my seat back and closing my eyes. She'll see it when she wakes up.*
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Post by redhavoc on Oct 2, 2011 3:37:35 GMT -5
*Hours later I wake up. I know it's hours later because the sun is setting. I look over and Max is asleep in the driver's seat. I sit there for a few minutes absorbing the silence and staring vacantly ahead. My eyes finally focus on the first aid kit. I grab it and open the door. It takes me several tries before I finally get it open. My feet are lead as I get out and I have to stop and rest several times to even go a few feet. I want to yell in frustration. There have only been one or two other times when I have felt this weak. This might be the worst*
*I get to the wall of the gas station, put my back against the brick, and ease down to the ground. I open the kit and immedietly dry-swallow three BLI pain meds. They quickly kick in and I go to work removing the bloody bandages and replacing them with new ones and a good deal of antibiotic gel. It's hard to wrap the bandage around my torso, but I finally manage it. I sit back and rest, not really sure why I prefer this life to being taken care of by the killjoys*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Oct 2, 2011 23:36:23 GMT -5
*Opening my eyes after a few short hours, I get out of the car and join Red by the gas station after picking up her notebook and a pen. I hand them to her, along with a ration packet, leaning against the wall* How are you doing?
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Post by redhavoc on Oct 2, 2011 23:40:44 GMT -5
*I flip to an open page and write 'fine' and hand it to him before ripping open and devouring the ration packet. It tastes amazing, even though I know it souldn't*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Oct 2, 2011 23:48:36 GMT -5
*I eye her bandages doubtfully. The killjoys seemed to think she still needed considerable healing, and I haven't seen her injuries myself* Do you need a doctor?
*I don't actually know how I could get her into the city without detection, but I'd figure something out. I could always kidnap one of the Better Living doctors and bring him out to the desert.*
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Post by redhavoc on Oct 2, 2011 23:59:20 GMT -5
*I shake my head as hard as I can and motion for Max to give me back the notebook. When he gives it back I write: 'I can take care of myself until I heal. NO DOCTORS' and hand it back to him*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Oct 3, 2011 0:02:13 GMT -5
*I shrug, handing the notebook back* Okay. So what happened? Did you learn anything useful? *I don't really care what she learned, but I feel like I should act interested*
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Post by redhavoc on Oct 3, 2011 0:08:33 GMT -5
*I think a little, crumpling the empty wrapper in my hand and write: 'they want to change the world, but many of them don't know how, so they try to straddle this crazy balance between compassion and violence. I think some of them even cared for me. Ha ha, stupid, right?*
*And idea occurs to me, something I want to show Max, and I write: 'Do you know where The Strip is?*
*I hand the book up to him*
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