Musings- The IC

Skylar Vin Barnett. December 20th, 1979. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.



Woooooo... yeah. Things got pretty well shitty since I did that little trick at school. Not a trick, no, all I did was accidentally touch my friend's dog, and. I don't know. Turned into a dog-man thing, I thought it was a pretty cool trick until eerr'body started to run and scream like I was Godzilla. At least I stopped feeling like shit. Wooo... I don't know. I'm starting to feel funny again, it started like months ago when I first used my power to-


What should I call it? Splice. Yeah, yeah. Splice. I spliced with my little sister's pet cat and became Cat Man- heh. I make it sound like I just became one of those shit Bat Man knock-offs.


I don't know what to call it.


My family thinks I'm on drugs, when I feel strange just walking around looking like a zombie. Worst of all, when I Splice I feel amazing. Like I've- just taken drugs. Sounds legit. I should skip town or dye my hair because shit is getting serious. While I was gone one day to do whatever (I don't masturbate) some mooks came out and kicked my family's door down looking for me. Didn't even have to say anything, I've seen the movies. Someone wants me dead, so I'm going to skip town... I have some Family out of state in South Carolina. So, I'm hiding in the woods, one of the parks in fact. Until I get a


Samuel Cameron Wolcott. December 20th, 1979. Los Angeles, California.



Damn. I sure as hell didn't know they hated mutants until those white ass bastards came out and outed ME- of all god damn people as a mutant. Shit was bad already, I could tell. The Civil Rights movement got people pissed off all because of everyone's skin. Things weren't bad for me, at least when I was around blacks cause they didn't hate me. Some of them didn't, some just treated me as bad as the whites do...


All because my eyes changed... I went from bar tender (those fuckers burnt that down) to some fuck running around with a pink back pack jumping from alleyway to alleyway. I'm going to get the hell out of here. Go to Mexico, or Canada. I don't really give a damn at this point I just wanted to leave and start a family somewhere.



((First post, bitches))

Oliver Harlow, Philadelphia Pennsylvania

I'd like to find the incompetent Cockney asshole who told me that mutants weren't persecuted in America and let him spend a night in West Philadelphia. I'd also like to do the same to the Quaker Yankee fool who dubbed this the "City of Brotherly love. Hell, the only brotherly love I've been shown in this city is that the guy who stole my wallet yesterday didn't stab me too. I don't ask for much, really, I try not to, but America is worse than Britain ever was. Last night, my landlord threw me out of my apartment because she saw me use my powers.

This morning, I woke up in a dark alley surrounded by a crowd of African men who attempted to beat me up but were reduced to piles of cracked bones and broken skin. Yankees are such idiots. Of course, one escaped and called the constable, who chased me down another alley. I barely escaped without him throwing me in his motorcar and driving me off to the... what the Hell do these fucking Americans call it?...the who-scow? Ugh, i can't take much more of this. I have got to get a god damned plane ticket back to England before I either die or make someone else die.

Continued from Kyle's last entry-

Got a few knocks about the head by hail. Yup, shit started up pretty fast. Fuck this weather, man. Had to pick up my guitar and start heading for better cover, because those trees weren't doing much good without leaves.

Hail was coming down HARD. I was half afraid a really big chunk was going to come down and bash my fucking brains out, which would have been a cool way to go, but then I'd be dead. Fucking A, that's a morbid thought...

Still. Decided that the best place to go would be from the paltry, terrible seasonal grove I was in would be across the field, into the patch of evergreens across it. Would have made it too, but coming down a hill, I tripped over a girl.

Yup. I went barreling down the hill, because c'mon, there's nothing else you can really do, and gravity took it's course. I didn't see her in the tall grass, and she took out my legs. Good thing my guitar was in it's case, or else the thing woulda been busted. It did go flying a few feet out, though, and I landed on my back. Also good thing I packed plenty of clothes, or else I woulda broken my back or something.

"Goddamn!"

I struggled to my feet, looking over the pathetic thing that had tripped me as hail just fucking pelted me like I was fucking Saint Mathias. Or Saint John. Or some saint that got his ass stoned, and not in the good way, I mean people throwing rocks at him and shit. Fuck it.

Anyways, this was weird shit. Chick was in the middle of a field, curled up in a ball, during a hailstorm. Kinda freaky.

"The hell are you doing?! It's hailing, and this is the worst place to be for that shit!"

(OoC: I reccomend the past tense for the journal entries, as if your characters are writing them some time in the future. Otherwise this is an RP of people constantly writing down what each other are saying. :3 )

Procella Ilma, December 20th, Bulls Gap, Tennessee, 1979

I remember a guy tripping over me, looking rather roughed up. I'd been busy writing my last entry and let the weather get carried away from me.

On the one hand, I didn't want to reveal to some guy in the middle of nowhere that I was a...a mutant. But on the other hand, having a stranger stumble over me and angrily ask what I was doing wasn't really conducive to staying calm. Lightning flashed in sync with my increasing heart rate for a moment, and the wind howled, sending a rather large branch towards me. It curved around my head and kept going.

Okay, sometimes this is nice. But it's rare.

"Here," I said, stepping up and getting close to him. Creepily close for strangers, but it was all I could think of doing. A few hailstones that were coming down were suddenly altered in their path by the wind, falling harmlessly to the side of him. I wondered briefly how far my little bubble of meteorological immunity extended before remembering now was not the time.

"I really can't explain right now, but this storm's not gonna hurt you if you stay close to me, okay? You have a car or something we can get to?"

I remember thinking how loud the wind and rain was, here in the center of the storm, but my quiet voice permeated it effortlessly. I'm a fucking freak of nature. This...this kind of shit shouldn't be real. Just some lifelong nightmare. I'm just an infant sleeping in a nursery.

What kind of mutation is this?

I looked up at the kid (kid...probably around my age. Maybe a little younger) and giggled a little. His hair was so messed up in the wind. That was probably rude. Oh well.

"Come on. Stay close, okay? Storm's just going to get worse the longer we stay. Uh, those are cumunolonimbus clouds. That's how they work. Yeah."

Oh shit. That could be incriminating. Wait, I was planning on telling him anyways, wasn't I? I noticed the storm briefly intensified as my panic skyrocketed before calming slightly. Keep it cool, Prosey.

"My name's Procella. Yours?"

Samuel Cameron Wolcott. December 20th, 1979. Los Angeles, California.



I remember... It was hard as hell to tell what it was. I was walking around one of the shittier parts of LA for awhile- don't know why I haven't left yet. There was this car-


No, not a car.


Some Plymouth Fury, I ain't the expert when it comes to cars- well I'm not an dumbass when it comes to cars- but I could tell it was expensive as hell. For a minute there it looked like my best chance of getting the hell out of dodge. But, that ain't why I'm even giving it a second of my time. It... how do I spit it? It had an emotional aura.


Yeah, only things that are alive have emotions. All things that are alive have emotions, even the worms in the dirt. I was taught this in school but cars aren't alive, so it must have a big ass bee-hive in it, or a lot of bugs... which wouldn't make sense because I wouldn't be able to see it- plus the emotion changes as one whole being (it's aura was a mix of sadness and anger). So that means...


Fuck... you know what. I don't even know why the hell I was even lying to myself. I want to look at this damn thing. I just walked over like I'm going to steal the fucking thing (which I'm going to do in a minute) and slide off my glove just to touch it. I just wanted to tap into it's emotions. Figuring out what the hell it even is should be easy...






((Sorry for shit post as I am trying to get into the habit of this first person perspective))

May, Decem-HOLY SHIT SOMEONE FINALLY SOMEONE

I REMEMBER IT LIKE IT WAS YESTERDAY. PROBABLY BECAUSE IT MIGHT'VE BEEN YESTERDAY.

Don't take your hand off! Please! Please! I begged with the stranger, whose presence I suddenly felt (I'd been too wrapped up listening to Elton to even notice him walking up, I felt so stupid, what if I'd let him pass me by and-) and...and it was heaven.


Someone. Finally someone. After an eternity or three of nothingness, unending and gnawing at me and....someone! Took off his glove and put his hand on me...it was love at first sight.

PLEASE. Don't take your hand off. I...I...my name's May. In the car. No, that makes it sound like I'm sitting in it-no, no, please don't go, I'm like, inside the car. Like spiritually or some shit. Just please don't go I'm so alone. Who are you? I...I...I WILL TAKE YOU ANYWHERE. Please don't go. I'm so damned alone. I...you can have me. Like. Straight up take me wherever you want.

I was begging and crying (which was a strange thing for a car, windshield wiper fluid leaked across my windshield before I wiped it away) and my engine revved to life at the touch of someone else, a living human being, this was...I couldn't even believe it....finally...someone.

What's your name? Sorry for that. I go a little crazy sometimes, hehe. Please don't go.

May, Los Angeles, 1970

No, you don't even need to worry about refueling me! Please don't go. I...I don't know how to describe it, but I'm like, really good for stuff. I've had this car forever and it hasn't even started to wear down yet. Like I haven't washed it in...

I realized that my inability to grasp the passage of time was going to make conversations hard. Oh no. What if he thought that was weird. LIE. LIE BLATANTLY.

...at least two years! Yeah, it's been a while, heh. I don't even remember the last time I refueled. It runs really well though!


I revved the engine, smooth and steady. The engine never made as much noise as it should have, I guess I just had that effect on it, but the car sounded healthy, good. I flashed the lights, one then the other then both and wagged the windshield wipers a few times, trying to convince him I-I mean, the car, I'm not a car, that's silly-was fully functional. Which I guess as was. It was just that I wasn't.

I'm a really good driver too! Like, I've never even gotten a ticket! But I can go really fast if you want me to. But I hope you don't want to because I don't want to go to jail.

I wondered briefly if he was a criminal or something but decided against it. He seemed too nice. He was easily the nicest person ever. Samuel-no, Cameron, he said to call him Cameron, get your SHIT together May, do not FUCK THIS UP. This is not therapeutic at all.

But yeah! Free car, right? Please don't leave me.

I figured he was going to leave me, but I didn't want him to. Please don't. I can't stand being alone again. I didn't want to be sad and scare him away but even if he only stayed out of pity that'd be okay. I couldn't take...the fucking radio...and the silence...please stay. Please don't go.

Rebecca, December 20th, 1979, Some Damn Deserted Waste of Space...

My feet hurt.

I've been walking for about...damn, God only knows, probably a mile or so, and right now all I can think about is the fact that my feet feel like they're rubbed raw by the bottoms of my shoes. Stopping to sit for a while would be a good idea if I wasn't in such a hurry to get going.

It's funny, since I have no idea where the hell I am or where I'm trying to get to.

The group of white fellas I ran into ten minutes ago didn't seem all too nice, so I changed direction and decided to go around 'um. Thing is, that's led me to this long dirt road. Around a mile away from Philly and absolutely nothing's changed.

And y'know what? I think I'm damn near sick of it. Same old pale blue sky. Same old dying, yellow grass. Same old dirt, same old stale air... I'm not even inside and I feel like I'm choking on the same air I've been breathin' for the last twenty-nine years.

I pulled my cap down over my eyes a little, trying to keep the sun from blinding me, when I noticed somethin' weird out of the corner of my eye. Looked kinda like a person...a person tied to a fence?

An old, wooden picket fence. That had been my only company while I was walking, and I guess I had gotten so used to staring at it that it took me a minute to notice the guy strapped to it. What in the hell was he doin', there? He looked a bit younger than me, was definitely darker...

Well, the fence thing made a bit more sense, now.

Somethin' about all of it seemed...pretty suspicious to me, but I figured I'd go over there anyway and make sure he was alright. Find out what happened. Help, if I could, and if he'd let me. Hell, ya never know; the fella could be a looney that tied himself to that damned fence.

I walked over to him, slowly and trying not to make too much noise, and tilted my head to give him a side glance. "'Scuse me, sir?" I asked, trying not to sound too skeptical of the guy, "You alright? Looks like you could use some help, uhhh, gettin' down from there..."

Sure, I wasn't gonna do much without his say-so, but I thought I'd check him over anyway and try to find a way to take the binds offa him. Waiting for him to say somethin I started to fiddle with them.

((Woooooo! Finally. |D))

Aaron, December 20th, 1979, outside Philadelphia

When I woke up this morning, I hadn't expected things to take the course they did. I didn't realize I was low on "rations", or that I was going to have to go into town to get more because something stole my rabbit traps, or that on my way back I'd find a group of redneck hillbilly numbskulls. And I most DEFINITELY didn't expect to end up tied to a barbed wire fence.

I wonder if those christian fucktards saw the irony? Tying me up like their once upon a time savior. I doubt it, they probably don't even know the word.

Anyway, this girl came along. She was pretty confused, but that's about all I can personally remember. Apparently she asked me if I needed any help getting down. Apparently I spit blood at him and said "Do you think I'm up here for shits and giggles?"

I wasn't in the best of moods, apparently.

((Memory loss made this much, much shorter than it would have been))

Cameron, LA



I wasn't paying extreme attention to May. She talks way too much for her own good, heh, that's probably why she's so lonely. I'm definitely not going to say that to her. Cause' that'd be retarded, she's too big of a opportunity to pass up. I just need to say the right words and get out of here, I spoke, "Now now, I'm not going anywhere, May.". I'm going straight for the Canadian border, then probably I'll split with May...


Unless she's okay with me driving her around after I put all of this behind me. Guess, when I get the- no. I need to focus on leaving the country now with May. I opened the passenger's side door- uh the door that was closest to me- and slide inside. "I need to leave the country badly, can you take me somewhere like Canada or Mexico?"



((Short post because, fuck it's the holidays))

May, LA, Fuck Opening Lines

Ohmigosh! Yes! Yes! I can take you, to like, Argentina if you want. Or whichever one's at the very bottom of South America. It's been a really long time since I've looked at a map.

I was so excited. Finally, someone! And he seemed so nice and genuine. He was my friend! I hadn't had a friend....since....I have trouble thinking back to stuff like that, you know. Whenever I merge my soul with something everything goes sorta fuzzy for a while, you know? And I guess something had happened, 'cause a lot of my memory's kinda blotchy. I know all the stuff in my trunk's important. And I know something about the car's important to. But not as important as that stuff. There were vague wisps of emotions. Like sexiness, with the dresses. I hadn't felt sexy in so long. I hadn't felt wanted in so long...the only time people looked at me was when they thought I was a nice car, and then it was in passing. I remember, before the car and everything, people looked at me-that way, all the time. But now I don't get a second glance.

Just tell me where. I can seriously go like anywhere in North America. Or South America. I could even try to get you overseas but I dunno about that, I don't speak Asian. And also, I don't want to be creepy or anything, but you, uh, should probably sit in the front seat, you know? So people don't wonder how the car's driving itself and all.

I hoped he wouldn't be freaked out by my request for him to essentially sit in my lap. But it was so true! If somebody saw the empty car they'd wonder. It's why I could only really drive around during the night, or when it was really stormy or something. Even then I had to make sure nobody really noticed me, which was...painful.

Besides, I thought, things wouldn't be awkward as long as he didn't start playing with the gear shift or revving the ignition and stuff. But I wouldn't have minded at all if he did. CAMERON I LOVE YOU.


I had a friend and we were going on a road trip! This was so great! I bet he was like a world explorer wanting to see the world so badly. Ohhh this was just awesome! I was so excited! I AM so excited!


So, where to, buddy?

Rebecca, December 20th, 1979, Some Damn Deserted Waste of Space outside of Philly.

Well, he sure was a cranky one. That made some sense, when you looked at the fact that he was tied to a fence.

...Jesus, and tied pretty tight, too.

I decided to ignore the comment, instead focusing on undoing the rope and the tight knots that were keeping him bound to the- hell, why was I doing this, again? I had my Swiss with me, for pete's sake.

"Hang on, I'll get'cha down," I muttered, starting to dig into the pockets of my pea coat to find the old thing. A minute later I got my hand on it, pulled it out and had to fiddle with it a little until I found the little three-inch blade. It wasn't at all a useful weapon, but the thing was sharp enough to hack through a strip of leather. Or so I was told.

Swisses tended to be pieces of shit, but I had some good memories with his one.

Starting to saw away at the restraints, I thought I'd try an' figure some more things out about the fella while he was ripe and awake. "You must have been is some trouble to wind up here, huh?" I dully teased, smiling a little underneath the shade of my hat, "Haven't we all. Be patient, now...I can only work so fast..."

(Cont from last entry)

Apparently she tried to make small talk. While I was tied to the fence getting my back ripped to pieces over and over again. I decided to be polite and actually answer her question, though. Again, apparently I said "fucktards got tired of watching bruises heal, and tied me up here. Best to talk after, I'm not gunna remember any of this shit."

I'm still surprised I was able to do something that wasn't screaming.

Also, she was using a swiss army knife. Who actually uses one of those? Every function the damn thing has can be approximated with a real knife and a rock, and then you don't stand a chance of your blade breaking halfway through a cut. They always come with some bullshit guarantee, too- "sharp enough to cut through leather!" Or "strong enough to cut tin!" Or some other useless claim noone in their right minds would find opportunity to verify. The fucking things are worthless, is what I'm trying to say.

-Con't from Last Entry-

It took a while, but I figured the knife had dulled a bit over the years of me usin' it, so it wasn't as sharp as it used to be. In not too long I had cut the man's arms free, then his legs, and after a while I started gettin' so tired of the damned knife that I hacked away at the rest of the ropes. Whoever had tied this guy here had sure wanted him to stay put. As fishy as all this still was, it's not like I could just leave the poor fella here, alone. He looked like he was in a lot of pain, too. And if it was me tied to a fence I'd want someone to stop an' help.

I took a few steps back, pulled the rim of my cap up so that I could admire my handiwork, and moved a few curls of hair away from my face before giving him a slight smile. Pocketing the Swiss, I said "There ya go."

...Oh, right. Hurt. Should probably check on that...

I walked back over to him but kept myself at a good distance, looking him over and occasionally walking around the guy, checking for any injuries or anything. "Can you walk right or do you need a hand?" I asked, sounding as concerned as I felt, which wasn't too much since I had seen worse shit than this during my lonesome travels. There came a point where "strange" and "weird" stopped existing in your mind.

Kyle, from last entry ladeedah (OoC: I don't think this "from last entry" stuff should be neccesary anymore, so we can stop if you prefer. This while journal entry thing is a bit experimental, after all, and so we can change around the variables as we see fit. :3 )

Had to dodge a few branches. The storm was getting a bit harsher at that point, but this chick seemed totally unphased. She must have been crazy or something, because despite the loudness of hail bashing against the trees and the ground, she seemed a bit...

Reserved is the word, I guess.

Then she was giggling and shit. Yup, crazy. The fact that she was thinner than a fucking pencil didn't help the case of her potential sanity. At least she was a nice crazy. I figured I'd play along for a little bit. Long as she didn't notice the whole "hey I can control electricity" thing-

Ah, shit, I thought, was my hair acting up? Whatever, I could explain it away as the wind. I nodded in greeting to this chick. It was weird, she sounded so quiet and reserved, and I could hear her voice as if she was right up next to me, whispering in my ear. Which I wouldn't be entirely okay with. Sometimes shocking people just be brushing against them is a boon. Well, enough to get their attention.

What-the-fucking-ever, man.

"Kyle, maam," I said, being a little bit more polite than probably neccesary. After all, for all I know she's probably insane or something, and picking fights with the insane, the handicapped or minorities is too easy to do to be any fun. She was pretty in the face, but it wasn't anything too special, and besides, there was the whole fucking 'I'm crazy and emaciated' thing that was a bit more frontal.

"Comulonim- Jesus, is this a fucking earth science thing? You know it's Christmas break, right? You don't have to, ya know, talk like a square."

I shook my head, turning around. "Whatever. I figured those pine trees over there was my best bet, c'mon." The sooner I got my ass out of that storm, and the sooner me and... Porcella, that was her name? Pretty fucking accurate. Whatever, I ramble even in journals for some fucked-up reason...

Cameron, LA



First thing I did was slide over to the driver's seat, I just got in to see how she'd react to be just getting inside. Now, I need to figure out where I'm going to go, I need to leave LA first before those assholes catch up to me. Next thing I did was throw my purple backpack in the next seat and put my hands on the wheel. Because, I'm not dumb, if one person sees a car driving itself then that'd be like wearing a target. Especially since there's people out here looking for me. "Can we just get out of LA?"


I needed to think this really hard; if May thought I was a criminal then I don't know. She might be a good person and not take me somewhere else.... or she might haul my ass to a police station.

(Cont)

I groaned and sat up, my muscles groaning as my newly healed back finished repairing the damage. So of course I did the first thing that I always do- I looked for food. Bruises and cracked bones weren't much, but they sure did leave me feeling hungry. It was at this point that I realized my saviour had asked me something, so I chose to respond.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, I just need some food... Food food food... Oh, where did they put my bag? It's gotta be around here- ah! There it is!". I scrambled over to the fence, and pulled my way over the fence, careful to avoid the barbs.

Ripping open the bag, I pulled out beans and pears, pulled open the can, and started chowing down.

-Con't. Long entry, ain't it?-

So I manage to free the guy and he gets right up, looking as good as new, as if the whole fence-thing hadn't even happened. Now what person did that? It was weird to say the least, and I wanted to say something about it, but for the moment I just stood there, looking at him eat. That poor food didn't have a chance.

I put my hands on my hips, pursing my lips a little as I watched. Interesting fella. Now that he was loose, he probably wouldn't mind talking a bit more. "...Where you from, stranger?" I said, tilting my head a little, "I'm thinking you at least owe me that answer, since I saved your behind and all that."

Procella

"Sorry," I said, feeling kind of sheepish. Huh. Well at least my attempts to keep him from guessing I was a mutant had worked. Maybe. Damnit. "Guess I'm just really interested in the weather, Kyle. And ma'am? Kinda rare you find a gentleman, these days. Gentleman who say fucking, at least."

I looked back up at the worsening skies, but thankfully my little aura of tranquility held. The lightning and the rain and the hail weren't getting us in here, and I could almost see the currents of the wind splitting around my little bubble.

"So, where ya headed? Where ya from?"

I was trying to make small talk and just keep the topic away from anything serious like, say, being a mutant. That would not be good. Of course, no one had found out about me yet, which was really good, but of course whatever could go wrong in life probably would. If things got bad, I'd just run and count on the storm to cover me. It was a pretty solid strategy, in my opinion. Even if he had a gun, I'd only need a few yards' head start for the maelstrom-enhanced by my fear-to nail him with hail and fog and wind. Not favorable conditions for shooting or stabbing or raping.

Now I was nervous, and the weather shifted ever so slightly to reflect that. He was probably a decent guy. Probably. Probably. Don't broadcast your fear, I thought. That's how they know you're prey.

May

Out of LA? Sure! Anything for you pal! Let's go.....east! Vroom vroom! I thought adding the "vroom vroom" noises like the car was speeding off, which it was, as I buckled Cameron's seat belt in for him and held him in close while totally masquerading as watching out for his safety. I hoped he wouldn't see the turn signals blush.

No, wait. The vroom vroom noise might seem silly and playful. Wh-what if he didn't like silly and playful? Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. What if he thought I was being childish? This was bad. Something serious. SOUND INTELLIGENT AND MATURE MAY.

So how about mutant rights, huh?

Fucking shit, May, now you're a racist talking car, he probably hates you. You should probably just give up now. Oh no. He seemed so nice and kind and sweet too. He came up and talked to me and nobody ever talks to me. I was really scared he was going to leave or say something mean and I'd have to spend the rest of my life alone.

The rest of my life. I...did...was I going to die? Was I going to even age? Oh no. This was a terrible day.

No. Don't lose him. Say something not racist.

I mean, it's a pretty controversial issue. All over the radio...I do a lot of listening to the radio. All the stations at once. Actually, it's kinda annoying. But I know like every song lyric ever. Oh, and if you were wondering, Stairway to Heaven backwards totally ISN'T satanic and all. Just putting that one out there.

Kyle.

When we reached the grove of trees, Porcella started asking questions. Questions I didn't fucking want asked. I didn't know who she knew or who she could tell. I hadn't seen her around school at all, so maybe she was homeschooled. Still a threat. When I reached the train station, there might be a mob waiting to put my head on a silver fucking platter.

But there was also the shit with the fact that I couldn't think of a proper misdirect. Maybe if I kept her along with, make sure she didn't tell anyone. I might hate squares like her, but fuck, if I was two steps away from talking to myself. As soon as I made it to the train I could dump her off and be pretty much home free.

This gave me a bit of confidence, so I told her the truth. Partially.

"I was gonna catch a train," I said. "Travel a bit, live life, see the world. Shit like that. What about you?"

There was something else to her now. She seemed... Nervous. Man, I'm not imposing or nothing. Maybe it was because she was built like a fucking stick figure and she scared easily or some shit. I don't fucking know. I did know that this chick was starting to creep me the fuck out, in a pathetic sort of way. I wasn't sure if I'd make her even more of a wreck by trying to understand.

"There's a train station not too far from here, I don't think. About an hours walk. Normally I'd take a car but..."

I decided to tell a little bit more of the truth.

"Well, thing is, I'm running away from home. Well, not really. Just some shit went down and I need to get out of town for a bit. No big deal or nothing."

I clammed up then, because I was risking saying too much.

Man, what did they do to Johnny again?... Tied him to a post and beat him? For hours? And hours? And hours? Than they hung him for good measure. At least that's what I heard.

I've heard even worse things coming even further down south, so I hope I'll get my ass out of Tennessee soon...

Procella

"Running away from home? Huh. That's, uh. That's sorta what I'm doing, do. Although, no offense, I think I might've been at it longer than you."

I eyed Kyle up and down. Yeah. He couldn't have been at the biz for long.


"A few years, now. Just...drifting."

I walked a little ways in silence. Or, the relative silence. The storm beat down chaotic noise and fury around us, but I kept poor wittle Kyle safe. For now. With the admission of his running away, I was torn. He was either softening me up for pity, or he was honest. Hopefully it was the latter, I hadn't had someone I felt I could talk to in a while.

Normal kids at school...I dunno. I was always just the new girl. For a week at best. Then it was the next town. The next state. I hadn't made it to the next country yet. Who knew. Maybe when I grew older, I'd grow stronger. I'd wind up alone in Antarctica or somewhere, raining lightning down on penguins or polar bears or whichever fucking one lives on the South Pole. Go live in the Bermuda Triangle.

Heh. That'd actually be sorta funny.

"Train station...I'm looking to get out of town, too. With weather like this, wouldn't really want to stay. But I don't know past there. I'll make up my mind when I get there. Wind up somewhere and...keep walking, I guess. Nothing more to it, eh?"

A huge bolt of lightning came down about sixty yards from us. I quickened my pace.

"So, you can't leave me hanging. What are you running for?"

If he was some kind of weird sicko, I'd hopefully catch him in a lie here. If not, well, shit, what are the odds he'd be running for the same reason as me?

Cameron, LA



May sure as hell isn't the normal kind of person...



Then again I'm talking about a talking car that was probably all by herself all these years. If it wasn't for that aura I probably would have kept on moving. At the moment her aura was happy, likely from just me being here with her. Now, was a good time to relax, I leaned back in the chair kept my hands on the wheels to give the other drivers. I wanted to lite one...

I wasn't sure if I should inside of her, "Mind if I smoke, May?"


The mutant rights crusade.... that shit was the exact reason why I'm trying so hard to get the hell out of here. I don't know if the other countries didn't have such a hard time with mutants as the US is. I think I'm going to head to Canada or Mexico. Living out the rest of my life as a Mexican orange salesmen doesn't sound so bad. "Why do you think I'm skipping town?" I rested my goggles on the- her dashboard. I kept my eyes closed because I sure as hell didn't feel like getting my eyes burnt off by the panorama. Sometimes having the goggles on all day is hell on my eyes.


"They burnt down my house and bar, and shot my dog. All because someone saw my eyes.."



((I'll leave where they go next up to you Shade))