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Cicada Days
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i can feel something inside me say
[ *  *  *  * ]
The thought was a lonely and mute one, that if she'd spoken up about the windows she might not be standing here right now.

G047 : Florentina 'Tina' Luz
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Heavy, block-sized metal doors built with factory uniformity. They consumed the thoughts. Spartan, cold, lifeless design. The floor was also mostly sterilized, Tina's sneakers only squelched and squeaked against tile. When she'd woken it had been with a painful vise around the broad of the curvature of her skull. She'd quickly removed herself from the floor. The bag had been searched, it had turned up a discordant jumble of items. Some familiar, some not so. Some to stay within the bag, some to be held firmly in her hands.

It was a rod of a lush and organic iron, the sort that was rare to find if one only knew labs and school yards. Junkyards, museums, that was where Tina found metal that felt textured to the touch like this. The head was gnarled like the body of a fish, only foaming at the mouth and body with sharp pylons. Her grip remained firm as she slowly trudged from door to door, the weapon creaking back and forth, perpendicular to the broad of her hips. Her eyes met empty rooms. She coughed, the sound echoed off the walls in a dull manner, sounds seemed to half melt into the plaster and brick.

More rooms to check. Three, oddly oriented against her body on the cardinal axis.

She had to move, soon. She fully knew that there was nothing in here now. Just gates to pass, hanging open on hinges sheared to the bone.
The Dies Before First Rolls Squad

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Imprimatura · Solitary Confinement