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Sister Grimm
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I am a great biotic wind that will sweep all before me like a... a great wind! A great biotic wind!
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((Alice Blake continued from Stay Frosty))

Fucking danger zones. Fucking death island. Fucking Danya. Fucking Tim. Fucking Vic, running off, leaving her alone. Fucking everything. Alice was one stubbed toe from falling to her knees and cursing the heavens. She was bitter and angry, hurt, betrayed, and feeling more then a little hopeless. If it wasn't for Bounce urging her onward, God, she didn't know what she'd do.

If wasn't that Vic was gone, not really. It was how she had left. If she was killed, show down at Alice's side, that would be one thing. No doubt Alice would be wracked with guilt and horrible sorrow, but she could accept that. Maybe even learn to cope with it. Something. But this, Vic making a conscious choice to leave her behind? That was worse by far. That at some point in her thought process, Vic decided that Alice was dead weight and she'd be better of on her own. Alice would put on a brave face for Bounce, but it was killing her.

Trying to figure out the why, the reason, whatever it was that compelled Vic to strike of on her own. Was it something Alice had done? Some example of an incapability to protect Vic? Or did Vic just get tired of her? Maybe this was just a long time coming, and Vic was just seizing the opportunity presented to her.

There were enough scenarios or imagined reasons that Alice would have gone mad trying to cover them all. They all boiled down to the fact that it was just her and Bounce. All alone on a big island, effectively unarmed and defenseless. If Alice could put aside her personal problems for a second, she could try and think of a way around that. Bounce has a gas can, but that would hardly ward of an assailant. She had six bullets and no gun to fire them. Once again, she wished she were Macgyver.

If they were being optimistic when taking stock of any assets, they could mention that she was a fit and athletic young woman. Which might have been a boon, if she didn't have a concussion and a gunshot wound. As it was, her abilities were diminished somewhat. At the very least, Bounce still had her smarts. Now they just needed someone with a rapier and they could have the trifecta of brains strength and steel. As it was, well, let's hope Bounce had some diplomatic skills to fall back on.

Back in the town square, Bounce had mentioned the sawmill. Being the muscle in the outfit, Bounce's wish was her command. Being the sick bastard in charge of the island, Danya decided that it wouldn't be that easy and made the quickest route go through a danger zone. Which was how they found themselves in the felled forest to the south of the sawmill. It was her idea that they loop around, clearing the danger zone and heading up to the sawmill.

So, that was what they did. There was a period of preparation and they set off. They hadn't been moving long before the announcements started up. For a heart-stopping second, she thought she had heard Vic's name. During that second, she froze, her ears straining, as if she'd be able to hear some secret message hidden under Danya's voice. After another second, Alice decided that it was just a mistake. The result of a tire iron to the head, if you will. Just to save Bounce the possible trouble of thinking the same thing, she glanced over her shoulder. "Wasn't Vic." She said simply, confidently. Putting that moment of terror of mind, they kept going. She half-listened to the names rattled off, back after her scare, she didn't listen too closely.

And she kept right on going until she spied two figures ahead. Once was sitting, the other standing. Judging by the bit where neither had moved, she would have guessed that they hadn't seen them. Alice looked at Bounce, before nodding at the pair. "They haven't seen us. What do you want to do?"

"There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass" -Terry Pratchett, The Truth

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Make Your Own Kind of Music · The Felled Forest: South