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Grim Wolf
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"Come with me. We can some shit done. For real."

There was nothing Belle wanted more at that moment then to run.

Gunshots in the distance, voices yelling at the others in her group, and one by one they fled into the darkness, running as fast as they could, fleeing from the fight. She didn't even have time to feel angry or indignant with them; she understood full well why they had left. Getting your collar blow? Hell, she was surprised it hadn't happened yet; had they simply been nice to her? Had it been because she hadn't even helped Liz yet?

They hadn't shouted her name. Wordlessly, she slammed a hand into a nearby wall.

She couldn't fight as many as were back there. That was a simple fact, and there was no getting around it; she hadn't even seen the only one of their number with a gun, and now the other two were fleeing off into the darkness. They hadn't done a damn thing; they hadn't protected Liz, they hadn't changed the game, they hadn't hurt the terrorists.

"Fuck!" she yelled, walking rapidly down a side tunnel, trying to disguise her cowardice behind measured steps, trying to pretend she wasn't running from this, trying to pretend things weren't going to be different. She'd been feeling empty since her fight with Samantha Ridley--since she'd lost the energetic edge, the certainty that she could change things, make a difference, swing her fists and break the opposition. There was nothing simple about fighting here; they were all victims.

Could she fight again, now? Could she go back to being just a participant in this fucking game?

And then she froze, because she saw it. Without thinking her finger flicked up to her own flashlight and turned the light off, and she crouched low against the wall, body rigid.

There was a flashlight heading down what she assumed must be a juncture, getting steadily larger. She gritted her teeth, stared at it, tried to think as she crept closer and the light swelled steadily. None of the others had come this way, she was sure of it, so...

Who was walking down the tunnel right now?

She swallowed. Looked down at her flashlight. I don't even know if it's one of them. Could be anyone. And if is one of them, what the hell am I supposed to do? I've got knives, that's it, I can't fix anything, I'm a weak little girl who couldn't save anyone and the only guy I ever beat in a real fight wasn't even a monster, just a kid like me, just dumb and I can't do this and-

She felt goosebumps break out over her body. She lowered her head. She let the light pass her.

Except she didn't.

She lifted her head. She tightened her grip on her light. She got to her feet.

She wasn't devoid of fear anymore. She was, in fact, riding on a current of complete terror that chilled her to the bone and left her feeling a little weak, a little dizzy. Beneath that fear--beneath the all-consuming realization that if she did this that might be the end of the road, that she might fucking die just for doing what these sons of bitches had put her here for in the first place and providing a damn good show--was a very simple thought.

She couldn't walk away from this.

She couldn't walk away. She might die somewhere else on the island. She might live, by whatever chance it is that governs such things. But at the end of the day, if she walked away right now, without taking the fight to these miserable bastards, she'd hate herself every moment until she died.

She could abide death. Maybe because death was easier. But if she had to live with the memory of being a coward--if she had to know that, when a girl she'd chosen to help had been hunted in tunnels beneath her feet and she had fled for fear of her own life--she would destroy herself.

Liz Polanski had burned herself that badly, just to fuck the system. Belle was going to do the same thing.

She turned the light in her hands sideways, flicked it on, and tossed it across the opening. She saw the other light swivel after, vaguely--she wasn't looking too close. As she was throwing the flashlight, she was drawing the knife from her side, eyes narrowed.

Come on, you fuckers. Let's dance.
Edited by Grim Wolf, Apr 10 2011, 06:59 PM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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The Gully · The Tunnels