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Viewing Single Post From: The World Turned Upside Down
shotgunkid
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not in a position to bargain anymore
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((G064: LESLIE PRICE. START!))

At first, Leslie could've believed that she was dreaming.

Everything was murky. Everything was vague. Her mind wasn't really getting it together. Just meandering between half-formed whispers of thought, like in dreams. Her body was a non-object. Numb. Non-existent. She paid it practically no mind, save for the feeling of a breeze flowing over her face and forearms. The non-sensations and murkiness were something that she'd come to expect out of dreams. They were fairly disjointed and bizarre experiences. Again: she could've believed she was dreaming. But 'could've' was the operative word there. In truth, she already understood all too well the reality of the situation.

Leslie could have been content to remain in that state forever and forget all about what she'd been through mere moments ago. But that wasn't to be. Opening her eyes, she first saw the gray, cloud-mottled sky. Sitting up, the rhythmic ocean in the distance. The shore and all the ground in front of her was very steep and sloping. She rested on a sort of break or limb in the slopes, near the top. Judging by the weather, this place was probably not too far from the Falklands. Standing up, she noticed that duffel bag. It had been placed just above where she had been a moments ago. Unassuming lettering on each sideways face of the bag marked it as G064. Her new identity, the alphanumeric string the terrorists had given her to be identified by. Her thoughts finally started to come together-

She'd been sitting toward the rear of... wherever it was that the terrorists had conducted their disgusting little briefing. Between the heads of the other students and her own unwillingness to watch, she didn't have much visual memory of it. But she got the gist, and that was already almost too much to bear. She'd just seen Graham die. Well, not exactly. She didn't see the gun being pointed at his nape and the trigger being pulled, but her ears picked up the all-consuming BANG. Next thing, Graham was slumped in the chair--
--and the spotlight on him turned out. She didn't see any graphic detail, thank God. Knowing he was dead was painful enough. As much as she may have groaned and cringed at his weak, faltering attempts at being witty and humorous, he didn't deserve to be executed. Not by any stretch whatsoever.

And yet, even as she opened the bag and tried to reassure herself of that, the words felt strangely hollow. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even experiencing much emotion. Her mind felt, well, empty. Or drained somehow. Was it because of her amygdala being overloaded, or fatigue, or maybe even because there wasn't all that much to feel? She and her classmates would die, yes. Their futures would be eliminated, yes. Their families and the entire nation, no, world would be shocked and grieving, yes. What was left to say after that? It didn't seem like anything was, as disturbing as that seemed. Rifling through the bag, she uncovered bars and rations and water and map and some other stuff. Her assigned weapon. A whistle.

A.. fucking.. whistle.

Sure. Go up against loaded guns and swords and axes and whateverthehell everyone else had been issued with a fucking whistle. Just great. Perfect. She was practically guaranteed to make it through this goddamn shithole now. Just call it already, man. Leslie for winner. Fuck. Closing the bag awkwardly, Leslie saw the climb up ahead. A lone dirt road broke up the steepness. Dangerous. But just shallow enough..

Pack slung over the shoulder, she made her way up the slope cautiously, every step feeling wobbly and precarious. At least she'd found something to actually feel so she didn't have to feel like a robot all the way to her death. She made it past the small dirt road, which looked so absurdly dangerous and weathered she had to wonder whether it was actually a vehicle path. Seriously, it looked worse than some of the ones from Ice Road Truckers or whatever.

She reached the crest of the hill and crouched. Looking down this side of the crest.. nice view of the island, actually. Some buildings and a cellphone tower-looking construction to the left, a huge bridge and big manor house to the front. A dock or shipyard below. Big, squat edifice with a heliport to the right. Wait, stop, there was movement down the side of the hill. There were some folks down there, running around. One of them looked injured. And with them was one of those stuck-up Korean bitches. Bet she was changing her tune now.

Leslie set aside that particular memory, went over the hill and started carefully winding her way down the opposite side. Company was company, and she figured there was a chance of getting something useful from interacting with them.
2015: V6 Incident
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