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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 4:10:53 GMT -5
((From, 'A Cat Stuck in a Tree', p.14))
[Synopsis: Max and Red are being antisocial and having their own conversation because they are cool like that]
*I shrug and write: 'It's not your fault. I was not good enough, simple as that' and then hand the notebook back*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 4:12:48 GMT -5
*I frown* What do you mean, you weren't good enough?
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 4:20:10 GMT -5
*I get a little nervous and quickly scribble: 'You know, I got hurt too much, wasn't quick enough, not smart enough for Wilson. He's probably right anyway'
*I grimace a bit as I write it, not really realizing before that I had these feelings*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 4:25:05 GMT -5
No. *I resist the urge to take her pen and cross out the lines. I don't want her thinking those things.* He's not right. If you were hurt in a fight it was because it was a fight you shouldn't have been in. This is not your fault.
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 4:30:58 GMT -5
*I shake my head and try to change the subject. Thinking for a second, I write: 'What happened, anyway? Why did you run away from BLI?'
*In some respects Max still feels like my leader or advisor, like back when I was first assigned to him. I know that things have changed now, but it still feels odd to ask him any direct questions. My curiosity, however, and the fact that Max is talking to me, wins over my hesitation*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 4:38:49 GMT -5
*I don't think she believes me, but don't push the subject. Instead I look towards the main theater, trying to decide how to answer her question.* I... wasn't wanted in the unit.
*I don't know why I don't want to tell her about Wilson and Orwell. If one thing's for sure, I don't care about cushioning her opinion of them. I suppose I don't like the idea of speaking against my superiors... I almost find it ironic, seeing as how I intend to kill one or both of them.*
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 4:45:39 GMT -5
*I write a big question mark on the page, honestly confused. Max is one of the best fighters, the whole tower knew it. Why would the unit not want him? Was it specific people in the unit? BLI always wanted to be better, but as far as I could see it was always better with Max*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 4:51:39 GMT -5
*I sigh. How can she not see it?* I wasn't following orders. I got in a fight with Morand. I was generally a liability - I don't work well in a team, and a team is what Wilson and Orwell wanted.
*At least Sacramento let me work on my own for the most part. Now that I think about it, everything went downhill when I was expected to start working with others...*
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 5:00:12 GMT -5
*Wilson and Orwell, huh? Maybe they weren't as great as I thought... Now that I looked back on it, they were only great when I took my meds. Orwell ignored me for the most part...*
*I scratch at the bandage on my hand, thinking. Dead. They wanted us dead. I feel the blood drain out of my face a bit. Wilson didn't want me to survive Hank's experiments and Max had phaser burns on his back...*
'They shot you?' I write, not really believing it and ready for Max to tell me I'm wrong. The scarecrow units are there to protect the innocent, make the world safer. I just wasn't up to par, but Max... if they shot him, I couldn't believe in BLI anymore, not the way I had before*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 5:06:20 GMT -5
*Of course she figured it out. It's not that hard to piece together. I wait a few seconds, then nod* Wilson - *I lightly touch my side, where my shirt covers the narrow stripe of a near miss* and Orwell. *I motion to my back.* It doesn't matter. What /does/ matter is what they did to you. Manson, right?
*I see Red's eyes widen. She didn't expect me to know, apparently.* I don't need to you tell me everything he did. I just want to know that I'll be justified when I kill Wilson.
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 5:17:50 GMT -5
*I look down at my notebook, stunned. Putting down my pen, I flex my hand, remembering how Mason rebroke my hand just to see how it healed... the many hours of painful injections... the tests. And his own sentiment for me to come back and end it all. Why should we come back at all, when we could just run away?
'No' I write, 'You can't kill Wilson because that would mean he could possibly kill you, or one of the unit could. Max, you can't die.
*Tears start to form in my eyes, but I blink them away. I don't want to show yet another form of weakness in front of Max*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 5:25:53 GMT -5
*I read the note, then look back at Red impassively* Wilson needs to be terminated, and I have as good a chance as anyone at succeeding. Better than most, maybe. But I won't be rushing blindly in. I'll make it count, whatever I do. They haven't managed to kill me yet, and trust me, they've tried.
*I pull my collar down for a brief second, exposing a bit of the fake-autopsy scar. I need to convince Red that she doesn't need to worry about me. She needs to focus on healing, and on surviving in the Zones.*
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 5:36:17 GMT -5
*I see the scar, but shake my head, not convinced. I pull up a sleeve to reveal the sutures on my arm, trying to say, 'Look, Max, I got those too, doesn't mean you need to go on a kamakaze mission'. I think about showing him the ones on my abdomen as well. The only thing my action does, however, is convince me that Max is probably right. Wilson does need to be stopped and, therefore, all the life I can remember is just a twisted joke. I let the notebook fall to the floor, not sure if I'm ready to process this yet*
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Post by Max Griffiths on Jan 29, 2012 5:42:53 GMT -5
*I look from Red to the darkness in the galley, listening to the chatter of the killjoys out front. I don't understand why this is so hard for her to accept. It's not as though I'm worth concern. If I hide in the Zones or if I die in the city - it makes no difference either way.*
*When I speak again, I change the subject." Do you want to stay with the killjoys?
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Post by redhavoc on Jan 29, 2012 5:47:44 GMT -5
*I kick the notebook away, legitimatly angry at Max. He's going to go off and get himself killed anyway, so what does he care? Besides, how should I know if I want to stay with the group I've been trained to kill my entire life?*
*I cross my arms and turn away. I feel physically and mentally miserable...and my clothes don't even fit*
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Yes, I'm still running - sort of. But it is lonely out here. Haven't seen anyone else for a while.
//