Post by The New Student Dean on Mar 23, 2012 16:43:14 GMT -8
Kill An Abnormal, White Haired Soldier”
Yes, the inhabitants knew what they were: Barker's goons, willing or no, potentially more dangerous than the average Barker soldier. As Leta would turn back from the direction she came from, leaving the relative "sanctuary" of the desolate territory that Vespyr seemed to lay claim over...
...She would notice many ruined buildings from the bombings, just as she had left them. But it would be different, somehow. Before there may have been the occasional refugee group trying to settle down under the new regime, people trying to rebuild.
But Leta was re-entering into Barker territory, and things appeared eerily quieter than before... save for the marching. It wouldn't take much to figure that with Barker's new grasp of the land he would set out patrols to quell insurrection in his territories, especially after the incident in the south.
Would Leta sneak? Would she walk in the open and risk being accosted? Would she try to hide in the house of a refugee and try to gain their trust and therein their information? Or would she try to hide in a building on her own and attempt to gather information in her own time?
Leta knew not where she was going, just thta she had to find one of these men, and kill them. She felt her way along a picket fence that bordered one of the houses in the area. She thought that these men must have been extraordinarily strong, and staying in the open would not be a smart move. She needed to find some way to move without calling too much attention to herself. She wanted one man. Not five.
She rounded the next corner, and found herself hugging a chain-link fence.
Leta, you stupid. This is no place to sneak. People can see right through this thing
Sneaking proved to be very difficult for a blind person. She would probably seem less conspicuous if she were to walk around like she was supposed to be there. The worst that could happen was if what she was looking for approached her.
Leta flipped up the hood of her jacket, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. She continued to walk down the middle of the sidewalk. She concentrated on every sound around her. Every bird, every breeze, and every foot step.
It would prove fortuitous to Leta to put up her hood over her head. The marching on the road was boisterous with crude laughter and purpose. And as she walked on by the patrol, about two of them would go off to whistle her down.
Soldier 1: "WOOO, YEAH, BABY WANT A NIGHT WITH THE BIG GUNS?"
Soldier 2: "HEY, GIRL, C'MON OVER!"
---Of course, had they actually seen her face... they would not be asking. Instead, over the commotion, Leta would hear quick footsteps running to approach her. It would sound like a younger man, probably no more than thirteen.
"Hey... Sis! Mom told you not to look for food on your own! C'mon back inside!" the boy would say, reaching to tug on Leta's wrist.
Clearly, this boy was not actually related to the blind girl, wanting Leta off the streets... and away from the booty calls of the Barker soldiers. But would it be good to trust him?
There were two men to her left, whistling and hollering cat calls. Those could be them she thought to herself. What should I do?
Her heart thumped, and her mind raced, but she remained cool and collected. Continuing to walk forward down the street, she refused to acknowlege the men.
"Hey, Sis!" What. "Mom told you not to look for food on your own! C'mon back inside!" She felt a small tug on her wrist, and Leta cringed.
The boy who had clearly mistaken her for someone else sounded young. Far younger than her. He wouldn't be a threat. But it was hard to say if she should trust him. Hesitating at first, Leta followed after the boy in the direction of the pull. It was decided that she would kill one soldier. If she had stayed behind, she would have likely been overpowered. So, she unwillingly put her trust in the boy's sense of direction.
Don't run me into anything, you boy, she thought.
Soldier 2: "AWW, C'MON, BABY, WE'LL DELIEVER YOU TO YOUR BROTHER AFTERWARD."
Soldier: "Get your SHIT in gear, Kopinski! We've got a patrol to finish."
As the young boy would lead Leta away further, the marching sounds of the patrol would become more and more distant. When the boy finally stopped, the patrol was already down the next block. After this, the boy turned around to her, scolding.
"...The hell's the matter with you, lady? You should rub mud on your face so they don't take interest in you..."
"The whole place is getting ramped up for the fight, three days from now. My bro's local gang, "Los Banditos," issued a challenge of supremacy here, so Barker soldiers are everywhere these days. You should really find someplace to hide, or else one of those white-haired freaks might find you."
The boy leaned his back on the door to certain building. There was a large amount of chattering inside... but to anyone with eyes, it was a simple gathering of refugees... Unbeknowest to most, though...
...~
A few last hollers, and the marching disappeared a few blocks away. She was dragged a short way before the scolding began. Leta stepped back a bit and leaned against a wall, rubbing her wrist and hand. Apprently The soldiers were everywhere, but it didn't seem likely that they would be alone.
The boy mentioned that she would need some place to hide. I don't want a place to hide, i need one.... she thought. It would appear he was offering her safe refuge, but that would be counterintuitive at this point.
"Are they all in groups like that?" she inquired, though she already felt she knew the answer. "Where am I?"
Leta listened to the commotion in the building the two were leaning against. She wondered if it was any coincidence he brought her here to this building.
"And what's going on in there...?" she asked with a nod.
"Yeah. It's hard to get 'im alone. We've been trying to wittle down their numbers by leading them down alleys and ambushing them the big fight... but every now and then Bro pulls it off. He even took down one of those white-hairs!" replied the boy rather proudly.
Knocking the back of his knuckles against the wall that Leta was leaning on, he would turn to her and smile.
"We're in front of Bro's front-house. It's a bad little motel, but it's got open bar. He's got his amigos all dressed up to look the part, but we don't charge anyone, obviously."
The boy would point inside enthusiastically, smiling up at the girl, having not seen her face completely from under the hood.
"...Take a look for yourself. You would think at first glance they're all a bunch of bell hops just by seeing them," the boy would answer, grinning.
"...If you're looking for a place, we can probably offer, lady."
The situation at hand was bittersweet, to say the least. Mostly bitter, though. The soldiers she was looking for were travelling in groups.
I wouldn't travel alone either if I knew everyone around wanted to kill me. She mulled the situation over. Oh. Most of these people around were liekly to want to kill her.
Suddenly, something in her mind clicked. White hair. Didn't I have white hair? Maybe I blend in more than I thought.
Leta slid her hood off her head and ran her fingers through her hair, thinking of how to get one alone. Maybe this boy could help.
"I need one." she said plainly.
A place to stay was the last thing on her mind. Getting in and out of this place with a head was all that mattered to her now.
Leta would hear the boy step back as she pulled down the hood. The boy would stare at her, almost having not heard her request.
It was as though the whole place had grown quiet, eyes from inside the building suddenly looking at her. Leta's white hair had been hidden this whole time by the hood. But now... and with her eyes and scarred up face...
"...A-Are... you one of..."
Scared. Panicked. The boy was suddenly very frightened that he had given away his big brother's entire group to a spy.
Leta's hand froze in her hair, and her eyes widened. She realized what she had done, and why it was wrong. At least his panicked tone let her know that this was unlikely to be a trap.
"One of what? Those... soldiers?" Leta took a quivered deep breath. He had numbers. If she said something wrong, it would be her head. "No." Being up front and honest was probably the best way to go. But what else could she say to reassure him? She listened for a reaction, and hoped for the best.
The boy's breathing was stifled. He was staring at her, eyes gaping...
"...Prove it."
...One of the people from inside the building was walking towards the door. The steps were deliberate and filled with dangerous purpose...
After all, it wasn't often that an experiment found itself alone, without any retainers, smack dab in the middle of enemy territory.
Bloodlust filled the air in apprehension.
Leta's ears perked at the sound of footsteps approaching the door.
Fuckfuckfuck...
She had to think quick.
"How?"
She could tell him her plan once she found one, but what god would that do? Would he believe her? She sighed.
"I need to kill one."
The footsteps grew heavier and drew nearer. Leta clenched and unclenched her fists, hoping she wasn't about to be mobbed and killed in an alley--in a city she's never even been in.
"LIAR---"
"---De veras?" replied a very deep, calm voice. The door had opened with barely a sound, the man's careful hands folded carefully around his elbows. The boy would turn around, jump-hugging to the man's waist.
"BIG BRO! THIS GIRL...!"
"Shh. Shh, niño. Let the girl speak," the man would say, putting a hand over the boy's head, patting it... and pushing him behind himself.
But the look he would give the girl would not be one of trust.
"...Speak inside, of course. Right, chica?"
How willing was Leta to push herself into a lion's den, after all?
Leta's jaw dropped. What the fuck is going on?
A man walked outside, and the boy hid behind him. Big brother.
"BIG BRO! THIS GIRL--"
"Shh. Shh, nino. Let the girl speak."
Leta focused on the sound of her own breathing, trying to piece together what was going on, and predict what was going to happen to her. This guy was in charge of killing people who looked like her.
"Speak inside, of course. Right, chica?"
Leta bit her lip and took a step back. "You want to kill me. I'm not even what you think I am, and you want to kill me." She looked at the man with accusation spread across her face.
If she ran, they would chase her and kill her. If she went inside, she might be killed. Might is better than will. She warily took a step forward.
"My name's not chica..." she said under her breath.
The man continued to appraise her, rather coldly. But he would offer his hand forward, confidently, ears perking up at her quiet voice.
"It's what you are. Better than 'experiment,' sí?"
If she questioned him ability, he would shrug.
"I have good ears. Could hear your entire conversation through these thin walls," he would say, gesturing with his lower lip at the brick wall.
For a moment, the man considered her, whether or not she took his hand. He would look back at the boy, clicking his tongue.
"Get inside, Pablo. Prep her a room. Guest room."
Quickly, the man would turn his attention back to Leta.
"I am going to bind you. Surely, you can understand?" the man would say smiling...
---He was a man who stood a good 5'11, with a fairly average build. A fair-skinned Mestizo, the man wore several indentions on his forehead under his chocolate black hair that barely stretched an inch down the sides of his head in a scruffy way. He wore nice, black suit and pants, aged at least to twenty seven.
"If your intent is as you say it is, you will be treated well. We shall talk inside."
The hand would still be offered. If taken, he would gently grip her hand... before taking her behind the door. Standing behind the door, in a bright red bell hop suit adorned with golden buttons was a man with a steel pipe held high in both hands... and an accompanying bellhop with rope. If she struggled, they would attempt to bind her wrists behind her, leading to terrible chaffing. If she complied, she would find a firm, but almost comfortable knot binding her wrists.
Running back in was the "nino" from before, his duty done... wearing a white t-shirt with various black tribal markings on his shirt, wearing jeans and sneakers. He was a scrawny, tiny version of his older brother, but still wore the same intense golden-brown gaze in his eyes. His skin was also a creamier, sun-kissed brown.
"...The room's ready..."
"...Are you sure, Bro?"
Going inside a building full of people who only saw her as an enemy unsettled Leta. She wouldn't do anything to act out against them, but she questioned whether they would sit tight at her presence, or if they would jump at the sight of her hair. Binding was out of the question.
"I am not comfortable with you binding me, sir. I can assure you I will not make any rash decisions, but if your men attack me, I want a fighting chance. No."
She denied the hand in front of her, wanting to protect her wrists from being bound. She instead folded her arms across her chest, tucking her hands underneath and out of sight.
"I may be blind, but I can hear where you're walking just fine."
"With due respect, you don't seem to understand," replied the man, as the men behind her would forcibly attempt to grab at her hands.
"We don't know if we can trust you. A person's word means little compared to action," his words heavy. He would walk forward towards her.
"Your 'helplessness' is desirable over the potential death of my men. No mercy, chica, until we arrange your kill."
He would step forward, no change in his physical disposition, but his voice was heavier... a bit harsher. The more she resisted, the more the flunkey would grab onto her wrists until they hurt.
If it came to it... the man himself would take a step forward... and punch the girl in the gut. Hard. (Moderator Note OOC: 40 Strength, 30 Dexterity)
Upon complying, she would be allowed to walk herself up and after the Mestizo, as he slowed his pace as they walked up a set of stairs. Pablo would follow after her to make sure she didn't fall down, jumping to catch her if she did. They would go a ways down the hall with a bed and a boarded up windows. The man would seat himself at the study desk placed there, while Pablo would lock them in. In which case... the man would apologize.
"Lo siento... I am Cortez de Banditos. We can't be too careful."
---...Otherwise, if they had to go the hard route, the man would, if successfully punched her in the gut, throw her over his right shoulder so that his men could tie up her wrists AND her shins together. In which case, he would carry her up the stairs and walk a ways down the hall... dumping her onto a bed of the aforementioned room. After which, the man would cut the binds to her legs with a long butterfly knife, but keep the binds on her arms on. In which case, the man would back up as Pablo would step in himself and lock the three of them in... Cortez would seat himself at the desk all the same.
"...I am Cortez, chica. We're going to have a talk."
---In the worst case... Leta would fight back. And suddenly, the man would bring the pipe down on her shoulder and a fight would ensue. In any scenario, Cortez was going to establish what sort of person he was dealing with...
...But it would be plainly obvious that the spilled blood of a girl meant little to him, if in the name of surviving.
Leta felt people tugging at her wrists. Their rough hands pulled every which way to get her hands free.
"Your helplessness is desirable over the potential death of my men. No mercy, chica, until we arrange your kill."
arrange my kill? they're just going to... hand me a soldier for me to kill?
Leta's hand reluctantly fell at the mercy of the men. The bound her wrists, and directed her up some stairs into a room with the man. They were locked in. Panic began to set in for Leta. There was no escaping if something were to happen now.
"Lo siento.. I am Cortez de Banditos. We can't be too careful."
"Cortez, this is no way to treat a lady."
Leta searched for any familiar sounds to latch onto in the room, turning her head in several directions. There was no wind. Not even the rattle of a window. No windows. No door. Only a bed, a chair for Cortez--possibly a desk set--walls, and squeaky floors. She turned her head back to the man and focused on his breathing instead.
"I just need to kill one of those things... please. Coming here was a mistake." she said flatly.
She toyed with the ropes around her wrists.
Pablo sat himself in the corner, pulling out a pack of Corn Nuts. However, just as he popped open the little sack, Cortez would shoot his brother a death glare very abruptly... before slowly looking back at her.
"No, you are right. In normal society, we would get arrested for false imprisonment. In normal society, thirty-three of my amigos wouldn't have died to Barker soldiers and Experiments."
"But I am not sexist, Chica. I treat all suspects like this, man or woman," he would allude, a bitter tone evident in his voice... He glared down at the girl. He was a hardened fighter in this new world order.
She said that she was blind. The hues of her eyes told Cortez this was so, but it was just so milky-white that it could be perceived to be a special power. Staring cautiously at Pablo, the man kept his distance from her, resting his foot on the desk's chair, and his right elbow on that very knee.
"It's fine if you want to kill one of those things. That will allay my suspicions of you when you do. But you know our hideout, now... regrettably, thanks to my little brother. "
"Lo siento..."
"S'okay, bro. S'okay."
Leta would find that her wrists were bound quite well... Cortez's voice remained equally flat, undeterred by her attitude, but not enjoying it either.
"But, you are the guest and we haven't even learned your name. Nor how a... 'blind girl' intends to kill an Experiment."
"Humor me, chica. What is your name?"
There was no use in trying to convince him she wasn't a threat. She would just have to abide by his rules until he allowed her to do something worth while. Like... hand moving. Or something.
With a sigh, she answered, "Leta." and flopped back on the bed.
"I don't know how to kill one. I've never kill anyone. That doesn't make me weak or unwilling. The situation I'm in, I need to kill or be killed."
She closed her eyes, now focusing on the boy by the door. A faint smell of corn nuts wafted from his direction. His breathing wa relatively stable.
Tightening his hug around his chest, the man would sit up and look at her, appraising her. He muttered her name several times, as though to make it stick on his lips, while he sternly looked at her. He nodded, as if finally coming to some consensus with a large, formal business group meeting. In total silence, the man would rock on his desk, letting it creak.
...While the boy swallowed audibly, hungry, salivating and hungry.
He was ignored.
"Leta. You."
"You are blind. You intend to kill an experiment. And you walked into our base."
Slight disbelief laced his voice.
"...Okay. We'll set up the bait tonight. And we'll see if you can kill one."
"Leta.~"
Amusement. There was disbelief in his voice, but he sounded as though he would humor Leta, at least...
Leta opened her eyes and flipped onto her belly, facing the boy. She listened to his movements, analyzing everything she could. All the while she listened to the man shuffle in his seat, and mumble her name repeatedly. his seat creaked with his movements. Leta noted to listen for footsteps, as he might be getting up. She flipped onto her back once more, then sat up.
"You are blind. You intend to kill an experiment, and you walked into our base."
Dur. Glad to see that much has been determined. Though she was almost certain he still didn't trust her. She wondered what would happen once and if she did manage to kill an experiment. What would he think of her? Would he trust her then? Not that it would matter, she should be let go. Or would she? All in due time.
"Ok. We'll set up the bait tonight. And we'll see if you can kill one."
Her eyebrows raised in slight shock. She didn't think it would be this easy.
Little did she know... it wouldn't be.
"I guess I'll leave until then. Right?" she asked with a smirk. This was a motel. And she hasn't had anywhere to go as of this morning. Sleeping inside would be appreciated.
"...Leave?"
Cortez stood up, reaching for his back pockets... shaking his head at the persisting misunderstanding that the blind girl before him seemed to maintain.
"No. The only time you will leave, Miss Leta, is when it is time. Pablo will be with you at all times---make sure nothing happens to mi poquito hermano, ah?" he began walking for the door, patting his little brother on the back of his head...
...His gut feeling told him that this girl wasn't an Experiment. Pablo too, appeared to be getting over the initial shock as the back of his head was being patted, propelling him towards the girl.
"Chu' get to 'ang out with Leta Bonita, ah? Have fun, Pablo.~"
Cállate! the little boy would call out to his older brother, as he marched on to the girl, his bigger brother stomping out of the room.
Pablo, his brother, was to remain trapped in the room with her, making sure she wouldn't leave. Stupid on big brother's part. If she really was bad news, his little brother would be in a lot of trouble once things quieted down. But, it showed that they trusted she wasn't. Which was not only true, but good for her.
Cortez got up and walked across the room toward the door, leaving the little one here.
He made some comment about being stuck in a room alone with Leta for the night, and Pablo shouted something back at him in Spanish. Leta brushed it off as unimportant, and listened to the sounds outside the door. When it closed, there was no sound but the footsteps approaching her.
He's not dangerous. she thought, In fact, probably quite the opposite. All this one had was Big Brother.
Nevertheless, Leta remained alert and completely aware of his every movement and breath. She crossed her legs indian-style, and faced the boy. Her fore arms rested on her knees. Leta would remain quiet, listening for his first move.
...The boy would (relatively) unabashedly push himself himself, rear-first onto the bed next to Leta. She wouldn't be able to hear it, but in his voice... as he took a moment to swallow visibly, before directing his voice away from the bed, his voice would shake slightly.
"...Are you... hungry?"
Leta was pleased with the wariness in his voice. he had no need to be nervous, but it was almost flattering; being feared or admired. One way or the other, Leta showed a small smile.
"And thirsty, thank you."
She would hear him laugh... nervously. He would begin "bicycling" his legs in the air, trying to grow comfortable.
"Reuban sandwich with gravy dip, side of mashed potatoes, clam chowder in a hollowed-out sour dough bread, fried rice, or an American-style burrito?"
His voice was confident, as on who had been trained somewhat to help out with the motel. Perhaps even a smile would be detected in his voice.
"And we have water, soda water, lots of sodas, coffee, green and English tea, and some other stuff, if you're over twenty-one..."
"If I may, a burrito and some water," Leta kept a straight face when ordering a small meal before her fight. She didn't want to throw up from excitement in the middle of it. Small meal is fine. "I would lie and say I am 21, but the effects of alcohol wouldn't benefit me in this situation." She smiled a little bigger, listening to his uneven breathing and nervous laughter. It was amusing. "A Green Tea would also be nice. Mind if I smoke?" She turned her head slightly to the right, waiting for his reply. "It would really calm my nerves a bit."
"Gotcha... y gotcha." the boy would reply, mentally checking off the little list. He would laugh a little, seeing the girl smile---she was in good humor. But he laughed even harder at her rather bold admission of her real age. Knowing his older brother, he would have a witty comeback, egging the girl on, but Pablo was still at the age where he would just become abashed, first.
"...Of course. Sure!---Just as long as you don't burn the building down, Leta," the boy would laugh a little boisterously.
The boy would jump off the bed, making a small thud, before trotting rather merrily towards the door---but he would stop for a moment. Clearly looking at her...
"Do you have a weapon of choice?"
Leta snickered silently at his laughter, shaking her head. Leaving the room, was he? Wasn't that against the rules? She took out her pack of blacks and lighter, and laid down on the bed. She put the cigarette in her mouth as the boy asked, "Do you have a weapon of choice?" Weapons would certainly make everything easier. She smirked in response.
"If you have a tazer gun, that would be neat. If not, any old chain will do." She faced the ceiling on her back, and lit the cigarette.
For a moment, the young boy looked back, his eyes mesmerized by the plumes of smoke that rose up from the mattress from the blind girl, this "Leta." If cigarettes were for calming, it was indeed working---for someone he watching who would participate in Experiment-hunting in a few hours, she was the calmest person he had ever seen. Even his older brother became noticeably more irritable and terse when he declared a time for a hunt.
"I dunno about tazers, but chains, for sure. Uno momento, por favor!"
With that, the boy would open up the door, letting it creak open... watching her. Watching the plumes of smoke rise up and gather about the mostly flat rooftop, save for the slight square-ish concave that that it had about a foot about it. Her smoke gathered nicely into a little cloud over her... He would have preferred to take him with her to the kitchen. The problem was she was older and undoubtedly stronger than he was (something he would never admit to another woman). If it came to it, Pablo knew he couldn't trust himself to be powerful enough to strong-arm her down. He just wanted to watch her...
But it would take a few minutes to get a good burrito underway. With a quiet slam of the door, the boy set off for the kitchen, his fleet-footed, soft pats on the ground barely audible on the other side of the wall.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Eighteen minutes had passed.
There would be a knock on the door.
"Perdón."
Letting himself in, the boy would slowly, but surely stride in, kicking the door closed behind him with his left leg. The unmistakable jangle of chains could be heard, several varieties hanging around the boy's neck, as his small but powerful fingers would grip onto a variety of aromas. Pablo would approach the study table, placing down a rather large burrito, wrapped up in tin foil, with an orange slice next to it. A black handled, steel pot that smelled of old people was placed down next to it, along with a teacup that already had a bag placed in it. Two bottles of icy water were than put down to it.
Kneeling towards the display, the boy cautioned his hands about it, as though ready to catch anything that threatened to lean over too much. Satisfied that it was all stable, the boy would stand himself up, the floor underneath him creaking audibly, before the jangling of chians would be heard as the boy would march over to Leta.
"...Dinner is served, Señorita Leta."
Smile in his voice, bow of his upper body, the boy jangled very loudly, very obviously the chains hung about her body. ...Although, perhaps the boy would not understand how this statement might otherwise might be interpreted...
Leta was half way through her second cigarette when the door reopened. She still lay on her back on the bed. She acknowleged that he enetered the room by leaning her head slightly in his direction, then moving it back. He had chains. Quite a few. The slight clinks of a teacup could be heard hitting the tea pot as he walked the distance from the door to the table. Everything smelled delicious. For the watchkeep of a prisoner, he certainly was a gracious host. Leta once again leaned er head in his direction as he placed all the food onto the table.
"Dinner is served, Senorita Leta."
Leta stuck the cigarette between her lips, and clenched the end with her teeth. She immediately shot up from her position, and turned her attention to the fixins. She held her hands over the food, sensing the heat in different areas. Closing her lips over the cigarette in her mouth, she inhaled, then exhaled, as she fixed herself a cup of tea. Hesitating to drink, she ran her fingers along the items--feeling for something in particular.
"Sugar..." she said to herself before deeming it unimportant.
She abruptly reached out and grabbed hold of the chains around the boy's neck, taking them off roughly and tossing them on the bed next to her.
"The rattling is maddening."
Another inhale, and she was sorting through the chains, searching for the ideal size.
Pablo found himself incredibly fascinated by the subtle gestures that this "Leta" made. She was for sure... completely blind, but the way she looked up at him had an unnerving effect on him, though it would go onto be relatively unnoticed. He held his breath, still not completely used to the air of smoke, keeping his coughs stifled into a small fit, but it was nothing new to him. The aroma in itself was rather pleasant comparatively to what his brother would burn through.
The boy stood in amazement, watching the nearly perfectly controlled mannerism in which Leta would stand herself up and then head directly in his direction. For the boy, it was nothing short of elegant in all of its imperfections, all her movements and actions of a very utilitarian base. It would be easy for him to go into a trance, watching this girl, except for the way she suddenly shocked him, grabbing the chains off his neck rather knowingly and muttering something about the rattling.
It was beginning to dawn on the boy just how skilled this girl was with her hearing. ...And then he realized he was staring into her eyes for a little too long and abruptly looked away. It didn't make sense to him, she couldn't see him, but she'd probably be able to detect his movements. Face reddening, the boy began stammering.
"S-Sorry. Chains, lo siento. Uh-uh-um... I'll be back with azucar. Sugar!"
With that, the boy would exit the room again and would be back in about four minutes with a small little tray with a variety of sugar packets before he laid it on the table.
The boy apologized for the chains, then promptly left for sugar. He was nevous, and increasingly so. She wondered why.
Never seen a blind girl before...?
Leta felt through the chains. She needed one that wasn't too heavy, but one that one that wasn't so thin it would break at the frst sign of stress. She tossed the heavy ones into a pile, and the thin ones into another. What was left were her ideal size. She felt the length--it would need to be able to wrap around both her hands and still have significant length left. If it were too long, It would get in the way. She threw one that was too short into a pile. Feeling for rust and quality was her last step. On one chain, a few links were rough--rusty. She threw that in a pile. Two choices were left.
How to pick the right one...
She set one on the desk, and held the other in her right hand. She looped the chain around a bed post, wrapped the ends around her hands, and pulled. Hard. She leaned her head back and stretched out as far as she could. When she was satisfied, she released her tension and felt the bed post. A dent was made, as expected. Then she felt the chain for dents or abbrasions. None that were noticeable. One last test. She began making a helicopter sortof motion with the chain. The whirs of the wind she was creating were loud and close to her ear. It was all she could focus on: the chain, and the movements it made. The refreshing sounds.
At random, she whipped the chain at the wall before her. A loud crack sounded. She brought the chain to a whirly hault, and felt it. It was perfectly unharmed. This one was perfect. She approached the wall and felt where the chain made contact. A hole about 3 inches in diameter was Leta's own addition to the room.
"Adds character." She smiled to herself, and walked to her food. She loosely tied to the chain to her belt loop.
"Ohhhh no bueno..."
Pablo watched with fascination as Leta went through a series of meticulous tests, trying to test for various imperfections. Choosing to sit on the desk next to the food, he would... cringe at the amount of damage. Upon the time that she made a crack at the wall, the boy would be heard running to the door and quickly calling out "IT'S NOTHING," before rushing back to his position to watch with increased interest. He was shaking his head. Leta definitely treated this room as... her room.
When she finally went onto approach the food, the boy's shoulders, which he discovered were tense for the past while, finally relaxed down as he reached into his pockets, crinkling open a small dry-milk candy. He would chew it enthusiastically, inadvertently watching Leta eat her food, slipping the crinkly wrapper back into his pocket.
Smoker, blind, meticulous, and seeming to possess a rather strong idea of what she was doing and how she was doing it, the boy found himself very impressed. However, in this admiration, he found himself too shy to actually say anything and would otherwise let Leta eat her food in peace.
Leta found the small tray of sugars, chose one at random, and poured it into her tea cup. She snuffed out her cigarette on her shoe before celebrating her triumph of the chain dilemma with a nice long sip of tea. She savored the smell of the herbs before setting her cup back down. She picked up the burrito wrapped in foil and unwrapped only the end, smelling it before biting it. It was a larg burrito. Surely she wasn't expected to finish all of it. Would that be rude? Or offensive? Hospitality is hospitality though. She was sure he would understand if she wasn't as hungry as he might have hoped.
She set the burrito down, and began peeling away the skin of the orange. Most of the gross white stuff had to be gone before it could be properly enjoyed. Infact, Leta was rather certain that it was impossible to enjoy an orange with the gross white stuff on it.
"You're a quiet one aren't you?"
Caught in mid-chew, the boy would stare at her, his feet inadvertently knocking against the base of the desk. A nervous tick. Still, her question calmed the boy down a bit and he laughed a little.
"Just around you, Senorita."
...His eyes began to wander...
...To the burrito. She was so petite and the burrito looked sooo good.
He clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had food waiting for him elsewhere.
Leta expressed a wry smirk.
"Nervous, then."
She continued peeling away at the gross.
Pablo's eye sharpened defensively, as his mouth... unmistakably shook at being so easily "seen" through.
"N-No I'm not!"
More nervous laughter. Desperate for a conversation change, he looked over to the chain...
"...Well, maybe nervous for you, y'know?"
Leta shook her head and laughed at his excuses. All the gross was gone, but she still toyed with her food. She peeled a little end segment from the orange, and popped it in her mouth.
"Because I have white hair."
She took another sip of her tea.
"Or because I'm a girl."
Setting the tea cup down, she continued, "I know it's not because of that," she nodded towards the hole, "because you've been nervous from the start."
She wasn't trying to scare him. Leta just had a habit of questioning people's motives and particular habits of the like.
"Because I'm blind, perhaps."
Her questions were impersonal. The corners of her lips curled up as she waited for a response. Listening to people's personalities, contrary to what the say, was a sortof hobby.
She was at least laughing now. Laughing at him. He sucked in some air and puffed out his cheeks, in playful anger. Pablo chewed on his tongue as... Leta began probing at him.
White hair?
"...No..."---a misconception that was cleared up, that's all. She wasn't an experiment. Right? But he knew she was teasing him. That didn't stop his cheeks from deflating when she hit him on the "girl" note. He unconsciously began to hug himself around his waist in a defensive sort of way, his eye begging to escape, but his legs betraying him. He didn't say anything, just scoffing (rather poorly) at it.
...When she plugged him. For a blind girl, she had amazing insight. The usage of the tea cup, he began to realize, was an attempt to distract, and therein mentally disarm him... which he realized after the fact.
Pablo's breathing could be heard in quick staccatos, his throat feeling strained as he tried to figure out what to say. Being blind was...
"...A little, but..."
"You... you're very interesante, I guess? And I'd rather you didn't... get hurt," he said, trying his best not to stutter as he looked away. As a boy, he was as he was, and some helpless, desperate pride of wanting to help out as part of his identity of his sex possessed him. In turn, Leta sat there, using words that would be used by girls as the same age as him, but he could feel the maturity gained by the few years difference between her and the others. Dangerous in its own right... especially for fellows like Pablo.
His back-kicking into the desk continued allll the while.
His breathing was a dead give-away. At first, a relaxed demeanor was clear with, relatively, steady breathing and easy answers. Now, it was very uneven. To say the least.
"You... you're very interesante, I guess?"
Interesante? Interesting, then. Alright.
"And I'd rather you didn't... get hurt,"
Get hurt? When did he start to care so much? He who ratted her out to those who could easily overpower her? Wasn't he supposed to be harshly guarding her escape? Leta thought.
This boy... is strange.
"You don't want me to get hurt," she started. Her head leaned back a little, and she pursed her lips in thought. "Pablo," she turned to him again, and touched his hand. "Would you do me a favor?"
"Si... Yeah, I guess so."
Pablo was... in a definite state of confusion. The pace of his breathing had increased as continued to hug himself tightly. There was confusion in own voice as he looked towards the girl, this Leta. After all, there were still some things he wasn't certain of with this girl. But...
...
"...What is it?"
The boy's uncomfortable demeanor saddened Leta a bit. She wanted to go to the corner of the room and ignore him for the rest of her stay. She didn't want to take advantage of his emotions, but she was better safe than sorry... right? Leta silently sighed. There was a better way to do this. There is no need for unnecessary physical contact. He would likely listen and consider her requests qithout it. She took her hand away from his and picked up her tea, taking a sip.
"Well, I don't want to get hurt," she quietly said, "I want this whole thing... to go over as easily as possible." She listened for his reaction. Hopefully he would be calming down soon. "All your... gang, should I call it? All they want is to prove myself--to show I'm willing to kill one of the soldiers. Any one of the soldiers. Then I can go," Leta rested the lip of the cup of tea on her chin as she thought. The whisps of scented steam helped to clear her mind. "Help me out with an easy target."
Leta thought further. There were flaws in her request, no doubt. But, hopefully, he would look past them.
Pablo continued onto chewing his lower lip as he looked at the changes that seemed to be going on behind Leta's eyes as they... "stared" in his general direction. It was weird, knowing that she knew he was there but not... seeing that he was there. The complexity of the situation had taken a while to sink in... as well as the simplicity. His breathing had slowed down as he continued to listen to her.
Her request... to get an easy target.
The boy was struck with a sudden surge of sympathy. With what he hoped would not be perceived as a moment of aggression, the boy stood up and walked towards her... placing his hands on her shoulders, as he bowed his small head towards her. He bit his lip for a bit longer, before solidifying his resolve.
"...I... believe you, Senorita.
"You shouldn't have anything to worry about. The target for tonight is one of the weakest we've seen in a while. So don't worry.
Leta's shoulders jerked upward in surprise as he took hold of her shoulders. Her head retracted away from him as if she were a turtle trying to sing away into her shell.
"I... believe you, Senorita."
Leta clenched and unclenched her fists.
"You shouldn't have anything to worry about. The target for tonight is one of the weakest we've seen in a while. So don't worry."
She bit her lip.
"Thank you." she said quickly before ducking under his arm, and walking around him to the burrito. She picked it up and split it in half. Taking one piece for herself, she offered the other half to him. But she wouldn't eat it just yet. She needed another cigarette first.
It took Pablo a moment to realize what he had done, what he was doing. When Leta suddenly thanked him and just as quickly ducked underneath his arm, he was almost spun around both physically... and emotionally. His face felt hot, embarrassed and hoping that she didn't think him a weirdo or something. But goodness, when he looked at her bite her lip, she looked---
---He jumped back about three feet before he could finish that thought, shaking his head, heart pounding again. His arms shook as he... looked up to see Leta offering half of the burrito. Immediately, he shook his hand, pressing on her hand to push back the half to her.
"Gracias, pero, the burrito is---"
---Cue the loud grumbling noise from his stomach. She would almost be able to hear the scowling under his breath as he suddenly gripped the halved burrito above her fingers, a bit more willing to accept it.
"...delicious, and I would love to share it with you."
Leta smiled. It was nice to know they were on the same terms with each other. She walked to the opposite end of the room and sat in the corner to light her cigarette. His subtle coughing from earlier did not go unnoticed.
"How long am I stuck here for?" she said while gripping the filter between her teeth.
"Not much longer," Pablo would say, pulling out a watch from his pocket, the metal clacking ever so slightly from the loose wrist grip. He would then make rustling noises as he shoved it back down his pants, thankful that the conversation had been directed elsewhere...
"In an hour and a half we move to our position."
An hour and a half. How was she supposed to occupy herself? She took a drag of her cigarette, and sighed.
I wish I had a piano...
Well, look who's upset again? Emma breaking her piano was the reason she was in this mess. She clenched her fist and squinted her eyes.
"Fuck..." She stood, suddenly not caring about cigarette ettiquette and walked over to her half of the burrito. She took a bite, started to set it down, the decided against it because it was so delicious.
The boy shrugged, both hands fitted around the firmness of the burrito. It poured out protein that he craved and the calories that his body was currently burning rapidly through. He would hunch over it, nibbling and chomping away at it in a matter of a minute. Cigarette etiquette meant nothing to him as he didn't smoke... and was used to the aroma anyways.
"Gracias, Leta,"
he would smile, his left foot inadvertently tapping on the ground like a happy dog. And like that, he would fit his hands into his pockets, taking out his deck of cards.
"You should probably get some sleep when you're done. I'll wake you up a few minutes before its time," he would say, rapping the cards out and shuffling it rather expertly for his age. It made a delightful staccato of clapping sounds in the empty room...
Sleeping was all she could do to keep from thinking about her ex roommate. She nodded in agreement and sat on the bed, continuing to eat her burrito. It was a little too late, but she decided she didn't want this third cigarette. She put it out on her shoes, then set it on the table next to the tea pot.
"I'm gonna get a head start on that sleep and skip the rest of this burrito. I guess I'm just not that hungry..."
The boy would nod... but realizing that this probably wouldn't be recognized, he tapped his foot gently simultaneously as he spoke.
"Alright. Sleep well..."
...While walking over to the extinguished cigarette. He would bend over it, smelling it---trying not to balk. But he would back away, no discernible thoughts on his mind as he would go to the desk and take out a little timer, setting it for an hour and twenty minutes, in case anything unexpected were to occur. From there... he would sit on the floor on the wall opposite of where Leta was positioned and spread his legs apart, setting himself up for the quietest game of solitaire he'd ever played...
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the time it took for Leta to rustle herself to sleep, Pablo sat, legs spread across, playing as quietly as he could. He had gathered by now at least an idea of how sound-sensitive Leta was, and wanted to make sure she was well rested.---
---He woke up to the slight buzzing sound. Quickly, he stood up, leaving the cards where they were, letting them flap from his hands and onto the ground. Pablo would rush over to Leta and go over her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he would shake her abruptly.
"Senorita Leta! Get that adrenaline pumping, it's almost time!"
---Sure enough, a ruckus was going on downstairs as what was once completely, professional silence grew into the rancor of a forming mob of thugs. As night faded, the Banditos shed their disguises and began brandishing their weapons and arming themselves. Tonight was a hunt... and tonight there was a special star for the main attraction.
...A familiar thumping of boots began striding over in the direction of Leta's room. Big, strong, with purpose. Unmistakably, the boots of Cortez.
Leta grumbled slightly at the sound of the footsteps rushing to her side. Then, the unspeakable happened. He took her by the shoulders, and shook her. She grumbled louder and said, "mmmaahhrrhFUCK!" before elbowing Pablo in the stomach. Realizing what she had done, she shot up out of bed, and made sure he was ok.
It was loud down stairs. There were steps approaching her door.
Cortez.
She walked to the desk and grabbed her chain: the one that passed the test.
Suddenly, the boy fell back onto his ass with a thump, hugging his gut. He winced at the pain, but didn't make a sound. He heard the boot sounds too, after all. There was a rough rapping of knockings at their door when it was suddenly burst open without any further warning, three seconds later. Cortez stood there, tall, demanding...
Instantly, he looked at the scene, his little brother sitting on the ground hugging himself. He would smile with an aura fitting the din that entered with him.
"S'okay, Leta, we need to get going---" Pablo reassured the girl checking on him, trying to get up---
"Oye, chico! Letting the girl knock you around, ah? Get your ass up---tonight, we feast on Barker!"
Leaning onto one side of the door, his knuckles rapped against the wood, impatient, eager---not like how he was earlier. Before there was a dignified regality to him, how he held himself, how he spoke. Now exuded an aura of recklessness, excitement. A man who could stir up the blood of others with the richness of his double-culture. Cortez stood, with a useless luger holstered on his pants, voice ringing through the room.
"Chica! It's time! Get your chains off my bro and get ready to run... we've an ambush to spring and not much time to spring it with! HAHAHA!"
Feast on Barker?
After she was assured that he was alright, Leta stood and nodded. Chain in hand, she walked toward the excitable man. They were all excited. For a fight? Leta didn't understand the value of fighting. However, in her situation, she had little choice.
She would take a deep breath before walking out her door.
The crowd below them could only be described as a mob. Unlit torches, lighters held to the ready, pitchforks, baseball bats, leather suits, chains, switch blades, machetes... all sorts of various blunt and sharp objects were equipped. And they would clatter them together making a terrible, terrible, din within these thick walls.
Cortez would step out, taking the centerfold of the banister... and even climbing onto it, balancing onto it perfectly, arms spread out as his little brother stepped out, standing next to Leta.
"Tonight, gentlemen! Tonight, amigos! The plan is set, your orders are clear! We will clear the patrollers and allow our senorita show us what sort of mettle she carries!"
There was a roar... but a confined one. It would be enough to alert the neighboring streets that something big was going on, but the choice of the building was on purpose, muffling the sounds. It would not be entirely clear, unless standing next to the building itself, where these sounds came from.
Doors would swing open and the Banditos would charge out with a strange, uncharacteristic sense of purpose that was not seen in ordinary gangs. And like that, the building was vacated... in complete silence.
---Cortez would jump down from the banister, arms trailing after him, landing completely unharmed. He would look up at Leta and Pablo.
"Come, then!"
With an arm offered Pablo would help Leta more or less run down the stairs before he would split off---going off to grab a small kitchen knife for himself. He would fit this onto his belt and stand next to her again---already clear that he too was a little experienced in these hunts in the sudden amount of composure he held about himself, eerily calm compared to the shy boy that hung out with Leta upstairs.
Cortez would stride out, calling out after Pablo.
"Pablo, I'm going with our amigos. Get her to the spot, our bait should already be on the way. Rapido."
And with that, his footsteps would disappear, leaving the two to chase out after him.
Leta was on full alert. She nearly shook from all the sounds she was receiving at once. She picked it apart and disected every word--who every shout came from. It was deafening.
"Get her to the spot, our bait should already be on the way."
Bait. This was really happening.
She turned to Pablo, waiting for him to make a move, when suddenly they were running.
"Where are we going...?" Leta asked nervously.
Pablo would start running, letting Leta run after him, before turning back to close the door behind them as discreetly as possible. He would offer a hand if need be but otherwise would keep running, making deliberate zig-zagging movements...
"We're going to the 'Gringo' Alleyway, one block from here.
"We've been... keeping watch on this one particular patrol that comes around the same line, once every week. It's about ten barker soldiers and a wimpy-looking, white-haired Experiment. We've seen them terrorize the whities there, but they basically have to coax their Experiment into doing shit for them.
"All he seems to be able to do is to make fire cover his fists. Scary, but none too tough for all of us, I think..."
"How do you expect to get him away from the rest of the patrol?"
Leta followed directly behind every one of his strides closely, and near effortlesly. She paid close attention to the sounds of his steps. Though, she was fairly close to him. If he were to stop abruptly, they would inevitably collide.
His feet stomped... a bit deliberately. And everytime he looked back, Pablo knew he was right. This girl could hear well.
"...By killing the guards---We're almost there, quietly, now," he would say, slowing his running down into a walk onto the concrete, the unmistakable sounds of a melee with much grunting going on ahead of them, just around the corner of an alleyway.
"By killing the guards--we're almost there. Quietly, now."
They had slowed to a walk as they came to the alley way.
"Oh." Leta said, finally. She listened to the fighting not too far away, and wondered what the weaker one was thinking. She wondered if he knew they were saving him for last, or if he thought he was being pitied and spared.
The sound of death was tormenting. It ripped her apart. There was no reason for killing unless you need to... Pablo... this 13 year old boy was so used to the idea of it. It was insensitive, and his innocence was lost to him.
Not that he probably cares. But Leta did.
She waited for orders.
---Thrown onto his ass, the target appeared. An anxious Pablo drew out his knife, sharply, looking to see his older brother looming over the target. Already, behind Leta and Pablo were the rest of Cortez's men, making up a wall of men. Behind Cortez as well, a similar wall was formed. Pointing ahead with his knife, Pablo patted with his free hand on Leta's shoulder.
"He's there ahead of you! Time to shine, Leta!"
---Cortez would hold up his hand in a fist that sounded as though he were clenching the air itself by its nonexistent neck, choking the atmosphere with his domineering presence. From the opposite side, he called out at them.
"Time to prove yourself, chica."
---the Experiment would scramble up, breathing heavily... unharmed, for now. His breathing sounded panicked. He coughed, and looked about to the girl with white eyes... with white hair. White hair like his... he sounded...
"...Friend...?"
...Young. Young as Pablo, maybe a little older. His movements were pathetic by comparison to Pablo's, or so it appeared...
...?
Experiment #? ? ?
Strength: 20
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 20
Charisma: 20
Qi: Fire Fist - +5 Strength to Punch for 5 Charisma, Per Post Active
Leta ignored the words of Cortez and his brother. She only wanted to concetrate on this new target. He was breathing heavy--winded for a short while, or just panicked. A cough might have meant he was hit in the gut--just to bring him down.
"...Friend...?" His voice wasn't deep, so he was young. Maybe the same age as Pablo. Just entering puberty. Easily manipulated.
She approached the small voice warily. "Friend..."
Her opening wasn't that big. She would have to strike. Her false pretense might get his guard down for a first strike.
She quickly whirled a bit of the chain around her fist, and swung. He wasn't far away. He was just within range.
Leta had him for a moment. He walked towards her... hands outstretched at his sides, seeming to ignore the fact that he was surrounded by men with the intent to tear him apart for reasons he didn't understand.
...He... smiled...
"I'm... J1613... They caught you too?---"
The hope in the Experiment's eyes burned away into despair... along with his fists. The moment he caught sight of her wrapping her chain, he began shaking his head, tears beginning to pour out of his eyes.
"...Not friend... NOT FRIEND!"
He was alone, left to die, to be killed off by one of his own kin. J1613, for all the years he had remained in the confinement of his small room, being poked and prodded, wanted to fall onto his knees. But he was desperate and he had nothing to lose, angry at the world, angry at himself... for being the failure that Barker could not use.
With careful eyes, he would try to duck underneath the fast swing of the girl's chain, bringing a hand up to defensively protect himself. However, this would be his own undoing, as the chain itself would wrap around his wrist. He wailed at the hurt, his hand bursting and crackling with flames, as he would try to bull rush his head into Leta's stomach. He wanted a way out from the pain, didn't want to get hurt by one of his own...
As soon as the chain hit something solid, adrenaline filled Leta's body. The world around her started gaining color, and fuzzy shapes. Light blue irises and pupils started to form in her eyes.
[Qi activated]
The boy was charging her like a little bull. As adorable as it was, it would hurt unless she did something. She moved slightly out of the way and grabbed a hold of his head, pulling past her, and toward the ground. If her maneuver was successful, the boy would fall to the ground just behind her.
