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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."

Oh...dear. Perhaps she's just an idiot after all. At least there's a warm body between me and that gun...Good choice, Vi, wearing red. Blood won't show up on red.

Those thoughts ran through his head in a deceptive calm, disguising his more pressing and more appropriate feelings of panic. Not particularly becoming in a lady, perhaps, but when there's a madman waving a gun at you, what are you supposed to do? Give him the fashion advice he so desperately needs? No. And this was no time for strategy, either. No one was listening. Best Vivien could do was play the helpless girl card, be the damsel in distress. He was pretty good at that. Of course, if Fatty John knew him (and who didn't?), if Fatty John was a homophobe...well. Then dear Vivien might be in a bit of trouble.

He subtly maneuvered himself to put Sofia between himself and that shotgun. John was freaking out, Janet seemed overcome by panic, the way he would be if he were a lesser competitor. Whatever, he was panicking too, but at least he could think enough to take himself (relatively) out of harm's way. His hand slipped inside his bag- to Sofia it would presumably look like a desperate attempt to secure his pathetic excuse for a weapon, and he did wrap his hand around the Venus de Milo, but his fingers brushed his gun. If this boy took a shot, he wouldn't have long to live after. Sofia might get shot, but hey, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Shame about his dress, though.

And- what was he doing now? Was he...was he holding the shotgun like a club? And Vivien had thought Sofia was an idiot. The only decent reason he could think of for a boy with a gun to hold it by the barrel was if said gun wasn't loaded, and if that was the case he had nothing to fear anyway. And if it was loaded, well, hopefully this boy would blow himself up by mistake.

I really did underestimate the stupidity of my classmates. Sigh. This is oh-so-pathetic. I really do need better allies.

He was about to say something- probably something understated yet pithy- when the loudspeaker crackled to life.

The voice wasn't Danya's. It was Mr. Kwong.

Vivien's wide eyes found the nearest speaker and he stared at it as the voice of his old math teacher came out. He was searching for answers, and he found them- some girl, Liz Polanski (who?) had messed with her collar. They were being offered a reward in return for killing her. And if other people tried to interfere with their collar, others would be killed. Including, possibly, Mr. Kwong.

Vivien didn't even recognize the name. Clearly this girl was outside of his social circle...outside of any social circle, really. Clearly she wasn't anyone he cared about.

Or anyone he minded killing. Getting a weapon, a real, powerful weapon...that sounded nice. Vivien would be happy with that.

But back to matters at hand. The boy swinging his shotgun around like a lunatic, the girl screaming at him to drop his gun, the other girl shocked into silence- Vivien realized that there was really nothing to say. If anyone got hurt here, it wasn't going to be him.

He'd mind his own business. Make a move when the time was right.

And if one of these two took out the other, well...

One down.
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

Those Who've Known - V4
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Fabuleux · Northern Cliffs