After the End

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by The Great Me!, Jul 21, 2013.

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  1. Dark, smoggy clouds draped the sky, giving it the appearance of night though it was impossible to tell what time of day it was just about every day, no matter the hour. Sunlight could only hope to puncture through the clouds enough to provide some visibility, like an eternal dusk long after sunset in the day time and impenetrable darkness at night, with no moon to provide any visibility. A person of some couple decades ago wouldn't be able to see past their hands but a life in the dark and dreary new world gave room to adapt and hone the senses for survival.

    Blue eyes overshadowed by dirty brown hair peaked out into a back-lot between many different buildings, the rusted, paint-peeled husks of cars the only sign that there may have once been life here, but at the moment it was clear of any signs of other inhabitants. Continuing to look cautiously and waiting for a while to see if anyone may have been in hiding or decided to pass through, it was a while yet before the youth squeezed underneath the sliding metal door of what had once been the shipping intake for some sort of store, where the delivery trucks would once back up and unload a whole palet of products. Now it was rusted and refused to budge more than a few inches, the mechanics on it long having stuck, and the lights above it having burned out years ago.

    The temporary, newest dwelling was small, not cramped but only large enough to comfortably house a single occupant and whatever meager belongings they possessed. The rodents that scurred in and out of it made the living a little more constricted for space.

    The opening beneath the door was marginal at best, the young male having to shimmey his body and scrape flesh a little against rough concrete to get out. A definite annoyance but also an extra measure of safety for the small boy. Only others just as small or smaller, who posed little threat, would be able to get inside, and anyone bigger probably wouldn't even try. Ignoring scraped elbows, he cast another glance in every direction, even up to building rooftops, straining his senses for any distant noises that signified life, but there were none that he could detect.

    Any windows in tall brick and concrete buildings that looked into the alley were dark, suggesting lack of inhabitants that may have been watching. That didn't mean they couldn't appear, but he was well versed in the signs of what to look and watch out for. Pulling a pack from inside what he had used as a temporary home, one he may or may not return to depending on how they day played out, as was often the case, he slung a pack onto his back that held a few possesions. Hanging in the pockets of the side were a pack of matches and some held flares, just in case, and an oil lamp further in his pack for when he'd need more constant light. For now, it would only draw him unwanted attention, and he had to be careful not to waste what light sources he did have for when the creatures came out.

    With one last look, just in case, he darted along the alley and through the city, passing through alleyways and under archway tunnels that went through buildings and under bridges. He had a general idea of the territories, and the usual schedules of when and where the gangs patrolled. Most couldn't and didn't survive solo, especially not in the Above ground instead of the tunnels. Most relied on a gang which ruled lawlessly and without restraint, terrorizing the others trying to survive, warring on other Gangs and trying to build their numbers. Some were nothing short of an army. He was one of the few that managed in the Above without a group.

    It simply came down to, he didn't trust others. Even to team up on nuetral ground, giving trust and being reliant could be deadly. Backstabbers were everywhere, as common as the stagnent air and the piled corpses that lined the street. What was left of the corpses after the scavengers and creatures anyway. It was common for him to have to step around and over them, to avoid snapping bones underfoot and alerting nearby people or creatures to his presence that would otherwise overlook him.

    Stones crumbled down from the tunnel cieling as filthy water unfit fit drinking trickled through cracks, clattering noisely in the tunnel but otherwise went unnoticed as the typical noise of the settling city remnants. Sparks showered off of the few electrical systems that still clung to life, and fingers deftly traced along the cold wall to give a sense of direction and make navigation easy in the darkness, steps light and soundless but purposeful.

    Once again caution was dominant as he exited the tunnel, casting a wary look around and extending his sense of hearing, but it was as unsettlingly quiet as death itself, assuming the image of a safe and empty path. Of course such sense of security could get one killed so he was always looking and listening for trouble as he weeved his way through building alleyways, streets, and under portico's.

    He came to where a water fountain still spurted water into a shallow pool below it, most only gathering at the corners. It was hardly the ideal place to drink from but there was much worse to choose from and clean water was an unheard of comodety. He bent over and brought the water to his lips with one hand, which tasted foul and gritty, before he jumped as he heard the echoe of a gun shut not far off and tried to discern which direction it had come from.

    He tensed edgily as more followed, an obvious fire-fight, probably between rival gangs. After some indecision he took to one direction that sounded as if unoccupied by those shooting, taking off down the street and looking for the next best alley to duck down before he got caught in the fray as well. Perhaps he would even be lucky enough to find the tunnels to duck into.
  2. The gunshots were what drew her out, crawling from the gaping entrance to a flood tunnel. At least, that's what she hoped it was, just a tunnel used in the low areas to prevent flash floods. She had to be careful there, too. When it rained, the tunnel would fill up with water, and she could easily ruin a set of clothing because she stepped in a puddle that only looked two inches deep, while in reality it was twelve. Her favorite pair of shoes had been ruined that way, and now, instead of the faded red canvas they used to be, now they were a dirty pale brown, and the laces were all mangled.

    Frowning as she emerged from the tunnel, she heard the shots again, and immediately pinpointed the direction. Gun fights could be profitable. Normally, the gangs wouldn't bother with the bodies, and sometimes she could get bullets, clothes, food, or even a gun off of them. All of those could be traded with some of the other people who lived Above alone.

    Getting her metal pipe and six-shot from a small cache hidden near the entrance to the flood tunnel, she went to an old diner, climbing up to the ceiling from a hatch door in the back room. The pistol didn't have any bullets, and she was pretty sure that it wouldn't shoot even if it did, but sometimes you could scare someone away with a gun, even if it didn't work, so she kept it nearby instead of throwing it away, like some would.

    From this vantage point, she could see the fight. Mostly, it was the Westers and Red Stones, but she could see a few others who weren't affiliated with anyone firing off rounds, those who were probably looking to pick over what was left when the gangs dispersed. She guessed she was the same, too, only she didn't participate in the fight.

    Gazing over the landscape, lying flat on her stomach, she caught sight of movement to her left, and focused towards there. It was some guy, probably trying to avoid the fight. Rolling her eyes, she wondered if he would have any stuff on him, and whether or not she could jump him and take it.
  3. Tearing down the street, he caught sight of the gun fight going on further away where sight was generally clear, besides the ruin of cars littering the road that were useless now as any kind of transportation and more used for cover and hiding. He broke to the side and in between what was probably once a restaurant of some kind and another some sort of large entertainment center, a once blaring neon sign hanging snuffed out save for a couple of stubborn bulbs that refused to give up the ghost, but flickered on and off, stone legs about a yard thick supporting the undercover portion of the building.

    Darting under the cover behind the stone legs, his head poked up to gaze along the side of the buildings and look for a way up, he saw a dumptster that sat just below a hanging drainage pipe, hopping up onto it and scrabbling to get a hold on the thing. It creaked under his weight but he wasn't so heavy as to have it break just yet, but likely it wouldn't support his weight long. He shimmeyed up with practiced ease. The building was a little higher up than that of the one the other girl was on and it wasn't until he reached the top that he saw her, his breath catching and he instinctively threw himself to the flat of the roof, army-crawling to the ledge and peaking his head over just barely.

    He hadn't seen or heard her at all...had she noticed him though? He guessed she wasn't a part of the least not the ones fighting. Of course that didn't completely dictate whether she was or not, she could've been the backup or even a sniper. Or perhaps a scout and lookout. Of course she might've been a simple scavenger crawled up from the tunnels as well, but he wasn't about to eliminate other possibilities. Better to err on the side of caution.

    If she was alone though...and hadn't noticed him, maybe he could get the jump on her, idly weighing the benefits in his mind.
  4. After a while, she lost sight of the guy she had seen running from the fight, and was instead focused on the fight intently. Mentally betting with herself on who would win, she guessed it would be the Red Stones, given that they had more men and guns than the Westers. However, a couple of the loners that were participating were holding their own, so she suspected that the Red Stones might try to recruit them or kill them once the Westers had retreated.

    Glancing all around her, she checked that no one was around her, passing over the guy on the roof entirely. Frowning, she decided that it wasn't too good of a vantage point, but the larger buildings around her were too tall to scale and she saw no ladders or anything to give her easy access. Sighing softly, she listened as a few more shots were fired before the fight seemed to die out, the Westers disappeared into the shadows, Red Rocks shouting profanities after them.

    Afterwards, the remaining people searched over the bodies, taking the choosiest prizes before dispersing, and she finally got up, leaving the roof of the diner after she had made sure nothing was watching her. In the street that the gangs had been fighting in, she fund that they had left the bodies, as usual, so she knealt over the closest, rifling through his pockets and searching for anything she might be able to use.
  5. The young male watched as the fight played out, one side retreating while the other declared it's victory with profane shouting and hollering. The girl still didn't move when the remaining scavenged off of the dead, so he could only assume she wasn't affiliated with the present gangs. Or at least not the winning side, she could have been a part of the losers' side.

    Finally, when the winning gang dispersed, she moved to scavenge the leftovers, and likewise he crept back out of sight and moved to the edge of the building to slide down, silently praying that the stormdrain didn't break off and create a huge noise to give him away. Luckily it didn't, the male dropping the last few feet after it ended to the dumpster and rolling off. Glancing at his surroundings for a brief second, he sprinted along the alley to the edge of the building and stopped just before entering the street, peering his head around.

    For a moment he paused to calculate how to handle the situation...he could always just confront her directly and hope she was non-hostile and maybe even unarmed, but that was risky. It would also come across as wary and unprepared, more than likely. As someone who didn't have the gal to resort to violence and killing and was therefore an easy target.
    He could always sneak up right behind her...just kill her and be done with it. It would certainly save him a lot of other possible troubles, and it was best not to linger too long.
    But she might also have something of value that he could get without killing perhaps weedle information. Information was one of the biggest tools of survival that anyone had in this day and age. A gun and an attitude meant nothing if you couldn't find sources of food and water, or if you were unaware of gang territory boundaries and accidently walked right into a pack one day. He could always sneak up behind her and pin her, or brandish his knife and start questioning her, perhaps even bluff that he was from one of the gangs. If he went about it carefully, played his cards right, he was certain to come out all the better for it.

    Deciding that to be his best option, he started forward and crept across the street, ducking behind each obstacle that he could and being careful not to be spotted before he wanted to be. Of all his skills, moving undetected was one of his best, and he was far from unintelligent. He wouldn't have survived had he not lived smart. The last stretch of distance, when he knew he wouldn't be able to approach completely silently, he got as close as he could first with knife drawn before suddenly lunging forward and throwing what weight he had at her, pinning her face-first into the ground, planting one knee between her shoulders and one hand twisting an arm back so she wouldn't have much leverage to push him off, or at least not easily.

    Putting on his best gangbanger punk voice, he sneered, "Well look'it what I found, a little mouse crawled out from the tunnels. You wouldn't be looking for anything in gang turf, now would you?"
  6. She had been doing fine, getting a couple bullets, a bottle of water, and a tiny can of beans from the first five bodies she checked. Either the gangs were getting sloppy or someone had seen her and decided to be kind. Deciding that the latter was the least likely of the two. Standing up after finding a body with nothingon him, she was about to move to the next one, when she was tackled to the ground.

    Grunting as she hit the ground, she felt a chilly fear take hold when whoever was holding her down spoke. Forcing it down, she said in a voice braver than she felt, "Nope. Just stuff no one would miss. Besides, it's not as if you're a real gang member." Here, she was bluffing, but she hoped that from the angle he was looking down at her he couldn't see through her poker face. "You guys never leave home without five others to make yourself feel stronger, isn't that right?" Smirking slightly, hoping it added to the effect, she flexed her hand that was caught in his grip, wondering if she couldn't escape by clawing at his fingers.
  7. "I don't need five others to take on one little tunnel-crawler." He excentuated his statement with a tug at the arm he already had twisted uncomfortably behind her back. "I got you just where I want you perfectly fine on my own, and 'sides, it's much easier to go unnoticed sneaking up solo than in a group. You little mice never could resist scavanging off what's ours, just makes these turf wars all the more rewarding when I linger around a bit and catch ya'll trying to steal away with stuff that belongs to us."

    He was bluffing now as well but he'd learned to be well-practiced at it, having taken his bluffing performances up to an art form. It was quite amazing what one could pull off when their survival depended on it, and he'd picked up the skills and the example of attitudes and threats from gangs he had witnessed. Many weren't daring enough to risk being caught spying on the gangs, picking up their know-how and trying to mimic their behavior, but he had deemed it a good idea for just such incidents as this, and it had come in handy more than enough to make up for the risks he'd taken to pick it up.

    "Now, only question is what to do with the little mouse I caught," he hummed in an icy, almost promising tone, idly twirling his knife in one hand before resting the deadly metal up against her neck, not close enough to break skin but enough to be felt and get his point across, no pun intended. "I could just slit you open right here and be done with it." He let that thread hang in the air menacingly for a moment, give it some seconds for the fear to knot in her gut. "But just maybe I could be persuaded to let you live...if you can make it worth my while." He let that temptation hang in the air, open-ended to interpretation and decided to just see how this played out, play it by ear as he went. Really he was just winging all of it at this point but it was better than nothing, and walking away empty handed. And hopefully his bluffing skills were better than hers.
  8. A chill ran down her spine at his suggestion. As if I'd let this creep do anything to me, she thought darkly, though she guessed that if he was going to kill her anyways then he would do whatever he wanted to do to her. Her mouth twisting into a frown, she said bitterly, "And what would stop you from going back on your promise?" she asked. "Everyone knows you gangs don't keep your promises, so why should I trust you? At least if you kill me now it will be quick, and I wouldn't've done anything I'd regret."

    Frowning at the ground beneath her, she waited for him to do or say anything, mentally preparing for the feeling of the cold steel of the knife biting into her skin. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the hard ground, resigning herself.
  9. "Well that would depend," he hummed, giving a pause as if he was thinking about something. Her logic certainly wasn't wrong though, all bluffs aside, he wasn't truly part of a gang. Of course that didn't disclude or dictate a person's morality or whether they would keep their word, but it was common knowledge that most gangs were without any such credibility to keep a promise, usually moreso than individuals. "I could easily slit yer throat and just take what ya got, and move on with my life. I'm sure I can make good use of whatever supplies you've got on you once you're good and dead in a pool of blood." Another pause. "Promising information though...that ain't something I can weedle out of the brain of a corpse so easy. It may just be more...beneficial to my own ends to leave yer jugular in-tact. Whatever happens along the way...well if a mouse went scurrying back into it's hole nice and quiet, ain't no one can say one was even here to begin with, 'way I see it. Could even be interestin', maybe find a new one to take in and rule the streets with, if you turn out to be good enough for that, but I got my doubts."
  10. "I don't need anybody," she said, her voice near a growl. "I've gone this long without help, I don't need to join a gang to stay alive. Besides, I don't know anything. I don't spy on the gangs, I don't get more food or water than I need. Basically, the only way I eat is searching bodies. So if you don't need any information pertaining to that, then ask away. I won't guarantee that I actually know anything, but I'll answer." Somehow, her rambling had turned into bargaining for her life by answering a couple questions. Sighing softly, she turned her head as best as she could, trying to see what gang colors he was wearing. "What gang are you in anyways? I don't see any colors.
  11. The young male of about eighteen or so rolled his eyes slightly as she questioned his gang affiliation and went on to talk about gang colors. He had light brown hair turned dark from filth and lack of washing, though that was hardly uncommon with the lack of such commodities as soap or clean water in the current era, nor was the gangly but still-muscled frame from lack of much food, or the sunken soft-blue eyes from dehydration and malnutrition. Even the most hardened and well-connected gang members were often lacking in finding adequette nourishment to keep up their physical appearance or health to any degree that would have once been easy to obtain and considered the healthy ideal, though admittedly some were a lot better or worse off than others. His size and frame was mainly what told of his age, though despite everything he still had somewhat of a slightly rounded baby-face, intelligent eyes having a sort of half-lidded and demur appearance.

    In a much more forgiving time he probably would've lived a fullfilling and successful life; strong genetics, possibly a stable family of at least moderate finances if not well-to-do, easily capable of a great education and successful career through schooling and job practice if he applied himself, and more than likely to have a good if not booming social life and relationships. Unfortunately, Decay offered no such luxuries, and it just so happened that fate had dealt it's hand to stick him in the rubble of what was once a world that could've offered him those things had he simply been born a few decades earlier. These were all things that he could've dwelled over until it drove him mad, but he had long ago learned to simply accept things as they were. Pondering the What if's or What could have been and getting upset over the loss of a life he never had to begin with was only a pointless waste of energy, of which he only had so much of, all of which needed to be used for survival first and foremost.

    "Not every gang or gang member represents with colors." He felt the need to point out, partially as a means to further stall and negate her prying until he could figure out some manner of gain from this whole affair, and hopefully disappear before she was any wiser to it, or could do anything to stop him or gain the upper hand at the very least. He made it a point to keep pouring on his adapted punk-ish accent to try and make his bluff more convincing, though he wasn't entirely sure how much of an effect it really had, or how long it would work, deciding to simply cross that bridge if or when he came to it. Moving on to try and see if he couldn't get some helpful answers, he started off by questioning, "What bodies? One's just in this area? Or's there somewhere else you been getting at 'em too?"
  12. "Wherever I hear gunfire," she answered simply. "Usually it isn't too far away if I can hear it. More often than not, it's at the borders of gang territories. Sometimes, though, if someone just drops dead or offs himself, I find the body and get his things, but by the time they put a bullet in their head they've already given their stuff to their gang or hidden it." Frowning, she scanned the ground around her, wondering if she could muscle her way out of this. Probably not though.

    By the feel of him, he was bigger than her, though lithe, and he had a knife. She had one, too, but there was no telling if she could draw it before he could slit her throat. If she could get the gun pointed at him, then he might leave, but at this angle no one could feasibly shoot him, even if the gun had any bullets. Slowly, she started moving her hand that wasn't caught in his grip, wondering if she could get it underneath her and force him off of her.
  13. The male fell silent for some moments as he internally debated with himself what more he could have to ask. Food was one of those things that never lasted in a location, nor could it be traced back to where a person found it and still be expected to remain. If the people didn't get to it, the rats and other scavengers did. Clean water was simply non-existent, and what was left was easier to find than many other things, so it was pointless to ask for what he already knew how to find in ready supply, even if it was filthy and contaminated. Residence was another pointless question since she most likely moved around, same as everyone else that wasn't a part of a gang. It simply wasn't safe to stay in one place too long without the protection of a group. Asking what she was doing in the area was redundant since it had already been answered that she was scavenging off the leftover bodies for probably much-needed supplies.

    He supposed that at this point there were very few questions he could ask, and they weren't very strong questions either. This whole Gang bluff isn't going to last if I keep up much longer. Best to cut this short, however that may be. He silently conceded, finally asking, "An' what sort of supplies you got?"
  14. "Bullets, food, and water," she said, her hand firmly positioned underneath her chest. Then, without any warning, she pushed down at the ground, moving at an angle so that the person keeping her down rolled off, landing next to him. Taking out the knife, she got the blade out, chest heaving. Holding the blade in front of her, she reached into her other pocket and drawing out the gun.

    Pointing it at him, she said shakily, "Just back away slowly...I don't want to have to kill you." Putting her finger on the trigger, as if she was considering shooting him, her hazel eyes met his blue ones, trying to put a ferocity she didn't feel into them.
  15. He tried to adjust his stance somewhat to keep from getting thrown off but she had more leverage than he did, and he rolled across the ground as his center of gravity was thrown off, rolling back to his feet. He considered trying to pin her again, but with him only having a knife, and her having that and a gun, he deemed the risk not even worth it. Just because she had a gun didn't mean it was loaded but with the closed chamber of the pistol he couldn't be sure, unlike with a revolver where he might see the bullets in the slots. Was it loaded? Empty? Even if it only had one bullet, that could prove troublesome...there were places to duck, but not close enough before the gun would fire. Still, he figured that she wouldn't unless she absolutely had to.

    Aside from just the scarcity of most resources, bullets included, the noise would bring the gang back down on them, something he was sure she didn't want to risk whether he was part of them or not, and whether she realized he was or not. Of course he could definately gain from her supplies, but in the end he held his hands up(one still holding his knife) in a gesture of defeat, pointedly backing a few steps as he straightened up.

    "I don't need what you have anyway," he said, partially bluffing, the unspoken part being Not enough to get a bullet between the eyes. It would take more energy and scavenging to find another source of food, and even moreso a gun or bullets that wasn't heavily guarded, but he would find some way to manage. At the very least, he would be alive to find them in the first place.
  16. She nodded once, indicating that she had accepted his surrender. "Drop the knife," she said, glad that she was the one on top this time, in a metaphoric way. Reaching into her pocket, her knife still in hand, she tried to determine if any of the bullets she had would work in her gun, but by the feel of them, they were too big. She even had a shotgun shell, something that could sell for a nice price, but it still wouldn't work. Letting a small frown cross her lips, she kept the gun pointed at him, her eyes narrowed as she examined him for any other weapons.

    "What else do you have on you?" she asked, checking his pockets as she took a couple steps forwards. "Anything useful?" In truth, she knew she was putting on a brave face. She didn't think she could actually shoot him, even if she did have the bullets to, but he didn't know that, at least.
  17. "I said I gave up any need for your supplies, not gave up my own defense," he retorted calmly when she ordered him to drop the knife, a blatant refusal. He supposed that could result in his being shot...but, he figured, if he was going to get shot, he would get shot. No if's about why or how. Plus, there was still that wonder of a bluff, a common tool of survival that many depended on, especially those that went solo. In order to survive, one had to play life like a game of chess, thinking several steps ahead in many different directions, outmanoeuvring one's opponent in more than just physical but also intellectual skill before their opponent even knew they had lost; rather than checkers, one move at a time, and see what happens next.

    I already made a rather daring bluff, what's to say she's not? Of course this was only a guess on his part, and really the only way he'd find out is when or if she fired, but he was perceptive; if not to her as an individual, then to the commons of human nature and thinking. Still, he didn't make any moves as she neared, and his pockets held nothing of interest, only the moderately sized backpack he'd managed to scavenge some time ago holding anything.

    When she questioned if he had anything 'useful', he cryptically and unhelpfully answered, the punk-like accent dropped by this point to sound more subdued, "That depends on what you deem 'useful'," ever the sly individual if not milder in nature than their meeting probably influenced.
  18. "Asshole," she muttered at his last response, now close enough to touch him, before swinging up the pistol, and clocking him underneath his chin. As soon as she was sure that she had actually hit him, she spun, running in the opposite direction, not caring anymore if he did have anything, only focused on getting somewhere safe.

    Taking the long way around to the irrigation tunnel she had been residing in, she grabbed everything she deemed of use, stuffing it into her backpack and decided that she should probably leave and find somewhere else to stay, just to be on the safe side. Even if that guy wasn't even in one of the gangs, he could still be dangerous. And, judging by how hard she had hit him with the butt of the pistol, she must have hurt him a lot. By that, he could probably want revenge on her, and might have an entire gang descending upon her if he was of a high enough station. And is even in a gang, she reminded herself, before running back out onto the streets, the bullets jangling in her pockets as she ran.
  19. The brunette was watching her moves carefully so when she swung the butt of the gun, he was prepared enough to move his head away slightly. He still got hit, and it most definately hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been, if not a bit over-exaggerated by his own momentum throwing him off balance. He paused even as he watched her go dashing off, wearily working and massaging his jaw, the bone dully throbbing.

    Idly he pondered what to do from here on. He could always just call it a day, and go about his own business again...forget about her entirely. On the other hand, she could prove useful. By now he'd deducted that her gun wasn't loaded, but she'd pulled a good bluff, kept him guessing a bit even if he did have his suspicions. Probably not someone he could trust...with trust being such a rare comodity and often misled...but perhaps he could at least use her for whatever worth she might have in survival, whether this be supplies or techniques and tricks. Someone who could pull a good bluff had to have something useful he could pick up.

    With that in mind, he made it a point to climb the rooftops, one of the few physical skills he was acutely capable of. Physical strength and body bulk was certainly not a winning attribute of his. Manouevrability and agility though, aside from his intellect, were definately a strong suit of his. It took him a bit of careful looking and scanning, but he thought he caught a flicker of movement below and was quick to follow, working his way across the buildings. Albeit it took a little more effort to keep up, with some places requiring him to climb, or others to drop down without either hurting himself or alerting her to his presence, he managed to at least keep an idea of her path of travels in his mind by the few sightings he managed.

    Finally he saw a spot that looked like a good place for ambush, taking a piece of loose stone and chucked it into a metal light that overlooked the street, a loud CLAAAANG rending the otherwise silent air. Really this was more of a diversion, having seen her moving about and predicted her path to cross the corner of the building. He was quick to move after that, leaping down right behind her as he knew she'd whirl around to identify whoever her pursuer or assailint was, grasping her arm and yanking her towards the wall of the building, mainly first to throw her off balance. Timing was everything and he was moving already before he had even let her arm go, pinning her arms to either side of her and her body against the wall with his, making it a point to position himself so she couldn't kick or knee him in a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy.

    He narrowed his blue eyes, close enough that his breath brushed over her face as he spoke. "That wasn't very nice of you."
  20. She had been deciding on finding a place to spend the night before dark, debating with herself whether or not she should go to a warehouse she knew was abandoned or a nice cottage-type place that she knew was in gang territory but hadn't been occupied for a couple months. Keeping her pace at a fast jog, she skidded to a stop when she heard a terrifying banging noise. Coming to a stop, she took out the gun again, slowly swiveling.

    Before she could do anything, however, she was thrown against the wall of the alleyway, the guy from before pinning her against the wall, too close for comfort. Nearly snarling in the semi-darkness, she tried to reach for her knife, though she couldn't even get to it. Straining against the guy's hold, her hair fell in her face as she struggled against him, hardly hearing his words. Still, she was able to answer, "Doesn't matter, does it? You're gonna kill me anyways, aren't you?" Scowling, she wished she could get her knife out, her heart hammering against her chest.
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