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Hollyquin
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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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Oh, that's cool, yeah. Come from the wrong fucking direction and tackle her. A gunshot she was kind of expecting. This...not so much.

"Gah-!"

Hayley hit the ground. She couldn't put up much of a fight for several reasons- first of all this other girl, who the fuck is this cunt anyway, she'd come out of nowhere. She'd thought she was covering all her angles but apparently not because this girl snuck right in through the blind spot she didn't know she had. Second of all, she'd just been smacked with 150 pounds of raging mostly-muscle, and 150 pounds is a fuckton when it's about fifty pounds more than your total body weight. Throw in Hayley being (hahaha) a delicate fucking flower and you had a recipe for disaster, disaster here meaning Hayley Kelly hitting the floor.

She had a brief moment to contemplate exactly how lucky she'd been, that she hadn't yet been injured, at least not seriously. The self-inflicted stress-cuts on her sides didn't count. This was Survival of the Fittest and she was healthy as a healthy thing, least until she was on the ground and all he thoughts were forced out of her head. She'd swear up and down, if she had the opportunity to do so, that she'd heard something crack- she hadn't, or at least it hadn't been anything in her body, though it fucking hurt enough that she might as well have snapped something. Fuck, it occurred to her that she'd never been attacked like this in her life, and she was suddenly really glad she wasn't a boy, boys got in shit like this all the time it seemed like, that must suck-

and then a fist connected with her face.


"OW! Jesus FUCK-"

THAT FUCKING HURT. Holy SHIT that hurt. New on that list of firsts for today, her goddamn bucket list, being punched in the fucking eye by some crazy bitch yelling something at her- "bitch" blah blah "took them" blah blah "from me" blah blah sorry Hayley couldn't hear that well she was being punched in the face. Honestly, Hayley had no idea who this girl was, though clearly she knew Hayley quite well. Presumably someone she killed was important to her, or more than one of them considering the plural pronoun the girl had used. Fuck, far as she knew there was nothing connecting any of the people she'd killed. Not that she'd known any of them that well.

But then there was that fist connecting with her face. With her body. Over. And over. And it was hard to think of anything at all.

She struggled. She did. She fought, squirming rather pathetically under the other girl's superior muscle mass, and predictably she failed to accomplish much of anything. She couldn't move, and she was in pain, so much fucking pain and she kept cursing mainly to keep herself conscious, keep herself present, and to keep the other girl from feeling like she was winning. But the occasional moan of pain slipped out. She just wasn't used to this. Fuck, she'd never even been hit before, not that she didn't deserve it for all the stunts she'd pulled over the years. Stealing boyfriends. Breaking hearts.

Karma was a bitch goddess.

And she went for her gun, of course she went for her gun, Vera was a one-stop shop solution to all her human-removal needs but guess what? She, it, whatever, was gone- maybe that was the crack she'd heard, the sound of her darling dear gun flying out of her hand, hitting a rock or something. Who knew. She realized she was damn lucky this girl hadn't just gone to grab the gun- she'd be dead by now. Dead. Dead.

She could die here.

That...shit.

No, okay, don't think about it like that. She hasn't shot you yet, she just...shit, could she kill me like this? It feels...feels enough like I'm dying, fuck...fuck, oh god, I...what do I do, shit, what do I do, gotta get out of here, she...god, fuck, OW, ow, owwww, please, please make it stop, stop it somehow, fucking Christ, stop it, I-

No no no stop bitching and do something, girly, for the love of fuck, do anything-


Right, okay, opportunity, find an opportunity. Find a way to not die, because dying here wasn't an option. So far away from Ema. All alone. Dammit, she had shit to do, she wasn't going to go down against some rampaging slut too fucking stupid to grab her fucking gun. Wasn't going to go down in a fucking fistfight that wasn't even a fistfight. This was the jock beating up the nerd in junior high, except the jock was aiming to kill. Okay, sure, the odds were against her, but she had to be able to do something.

Hey, well, she wasn't being restrained, not really. She could move her arms, not that they could do much. She'd been biting her nails too much for them to be an effective weapon. Her legs- same story. Her head...

Her head.

Right.

And so when the next punch landed on Hayley's face, she snapped her head sideways and bit the girl's wrist as hard as she fucking could.
Edited by Hollyquin, Jun 26 2011, 06:57 PM.
being meguca is suffering

[V5] ALIVE:
[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!

[V5] CONCEPTS:
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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