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Viewing Single Post From: But I Might Die Tonight
MurderWeasel
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That boy needs therapy!
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It seemed like peace was not on the menu tonight. Seemed like the world had just decided to toss one curve ball after another at Kimberly, like every little pleasure would be systematically stripped away and ground beneath the wheels of destiny. Fuck, she had to catch up with Kris. Nothing else would make this worthwhile. Nothing else would bring her any amount of satisfaction. She had lived her entire life, over seventeen years, all building to this one task, this one mission. You didn't fuck with that sort of purpose. You certainly didn't sneak up on it while it was having a smoke.

Someone had tripped. Someone had been fucking around behind Kimberly and had made the mistake of doing it noisily. She spun, glaring through the dim evening, blowing a puff of smoke from the corner of her mouth. If it was an ambusher, a killer, lord help them.

But no. It was not one of the past killers. It was a girl. A girl frozen like a deer in the headlights. Was she planning to kill Kimberly, get a late start on the murderer's game? Was she scared? A thief? So many possibilities, but, for that one moment, Kimberly didn't give a damn. No, the other girl wasn't moving. Hard to tell if she was even breathing. And the reason for this, the reason behind her terror or shock or whatever, was that Kimberly might, just might, have noticed her.

Damn, that felt sweet.

So she didn't say a thing, just stood there for a second. Just the two of them, alone, the scenery forgotten, Kimberly's initial irritation at being interrupted forgotten, her hatred of Kris forgotten. Just the two of them, having their little moment. Words would ruin it. They would break the magic spell. It had to end sooner or later, but Kimberly was hoping for later, oh how she was hoping for later, because right now she felt about a hundred feet tall. So what if she wasn't all that strong? So what if her weapon was shit? So what if wiggling her fingers was her pathetic little victory? Right now, she was in control, one step ahead of the game, and it felt fucking awesome.

Then someone was calling from elsewhere. Calling for this girl. Joze? Josie, perhaps? A name that rung bells, carried a face, but that was all. And the caller, that lisp. Kimberly had heard that before, somewhere. It was the most annoying speech impediment imaginable, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend how the lisper got out of bed in the morning, how she made it through another day knowing that even by the very act of communicating she was being a pain in the ass to everyone else.

"Over here," Kimberly called. "Come over here. Maybe we should talk. I won't hurt you."

Yes, perfect. Take the initiative on the answer. Leave the possibility of a threat later, but don't break it out yet. What was that line that got quoted so much? An iron fist in a velvet glove?

Yeah. Have a talk, and if these girls weren't dangerous, and if they were weak, then maybe steal their shit or something. Maybe talk 'em into coming along. Maybe see if they'd seen Kris.

And then, out of nowhere, the speakers crackled, at the wrong time, not announcement time, so something was up, something was wrong, and then a voice boomed out from everywhere, and Kimberly froze and listened in horror.
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But I Might Die Tonight · The Mountain