"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Moth
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Gloria didn't know who either of those people were. Ashley who? Shepherd? She shook her head a little though, chasing that random thought away. She shouldn't focus on that. Focus on surviving instead. If she spent her time trying to think of or remember every game reference one or the other made, she might let her guard down and...

The mental image of her getting her head blown off entered Gloria's mind, and she felt a cold chill run down her spine. Hands tightening on the gun, she willed herself to stop thinking about that too. NO! None of that! You'll live, okay? You'll both live through this and go home! ....the police have to know where you are. Right? Gloria had heard about a few people mentioning this "game," but she was never into it herself. She knew next to nothing about it. Which was why it was easy for her to tell herself that police, the air force, someone would find them. They had to.

"Cut through th-the bui-buildings...'k-kay..." Gloria murmured. She looked over in the same direction Michael was, unable to help but wonder if they'd meet someone. The buildings could hide their classmates...people could use them for sleeping. Alternatively, there were a lot of seniors, so some of them had to be thinking the same thing Michael was. She just hoped anyone they ran into was friendly instead of murdero--

RATATATATATA!

"Kyaaa!" Gloria screamed without meaning to, jumping and lifting the gun at level with her chest. For a single, horrible second, she thought the gunfire was aimed at herself and Michael, and briefly pictured them both being riddled with holes. Big red holes in their chests and heads, arms and legs, red blood gushing out, probably the same way her Dad had gone ohGod...

But the firer was aiming elsewhere, they weren't even in their sight. Gloria tried to calm down, even out her breathing as Michael took her hand and ran. Don't let him find us, don't find us, Dad don't let him find us, I don't wanna die, oh God.. Her legs gave out as they reached the corner of one of the buildings, making her fall to her knees, gun hitting the ground as she dropped it. She took in gulping breaths as she tried to stop trembling, only vaguely hearing Michael talk.

"It's okay, yeah? Just, probably someone testing out their gun. 'S all. Just, you follow me lead? I'm sure it's all good."

"L-Lead...?" she whispered, looking up. Then her eyes widened behind her glasses as she saw him look around the corner--she herself was too afraid to look, too afraid to see who it was. No..No, that's a bad idea, bad! Even with the claws--Wolverine? a tiny part in the back of her mind asked--looking around the corner made him a target. And claws were no match against a machine gun!

"That, uh, wouldn't have been you shooting, would it? I mean, no judgments here if it was, but, you know, if it was, could you maybe possibly not shoot at me?"

"N-No!" she whispered hoarsely, grabbing at the back of his shirt with her thumb and forefinger. Shaking her head, she kept whispering, "N-No! N-n-no, if h-he has a...a g-gun and f-fired...he'll do i-i-it ag-again! G-Get back, p-p-pl-please get b-back, d-don't want y-you shot too..."

"Gloria, this isn't easy to say....Your father was chasing down a suspect..."

"Y-You're open..."

"The suspect was armed and desperate..."

"Get back, p-p-please..." she choked. "Y-You sh-should just r-run, not t-talk to him! Y-You'll die..."

"Your father was shot. He's gone."

"....don't l-let him shoot you..."
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