Nobody will ever accuse you of not being careful enough. Actually, that psychobitch does every single time she shows up on your six. So does Safety First... Well, this time you're gonna play it safe. You're gonna be absolutely and completely certain that nothing is amiss or at all out of place here. After several moments of standard casing procedure you get bored and stroll on in. You've checked enough. It's bloody empty. Nothing amiss? More as if nothing here at all. No signs of anything. It's like he walked out for a smoke and forgot to turn the open sign to closed. It's then that you see him walk back in. You hazard the question. He blinks at you and asks why you're so concerned, your gun isn't supposed to be done for another week. It's the what of what month now? Another week? Really? Come now, he said it, didn't he? You ask him if anything else is up. Other than you suddenly showing a scrap of modesty, no he informs you rather derisively. What a tosser. Time is... fuckdrinkingcuntwagons, you're gonna miss your flight. Apparently, you're a lot worse at the whole judging time thing than you'd thought. You should probably [] give up and hit the bar. [] run to the airport. [] ask Calvin to borrow his car.
I've been holding off on replying for a while because I haven't really been sure what to make of it. But now that I know it's all finished I feel like I should say something here. It was a very enjoyable read, even in installments. I enjoyed rereading it all and pushing through to the end a bi more though. Regardless, I like your characterization and in general the tone and pacing. No errors that I can remember at the moment. Overall, I'm really glad I read this and I know where my best writer nomination is going for next year's user awards. Not a bad day at all.
Spoiler Those cuntwankers are in for it, you're going to rain your own burning, lead filled brand of hell on those b-- You know what? It's fine. But then again... Calvin is a good resource. You're not gonna find another repair man whose as good at his job and other things as him. No! No. You don't need a pity gun. Because that's what the Dragunov is now, a sign of that bitch looking down on you. Well, you don't need it. You're going to make your flight with time to spare. Good job, you. Hell, you're going to get there with time to spare and look like a perfect, sweet little angel. You can almost feel that halo glowing above your pretty little head already, damn you're good. You change into a set of clothes matching your packed set and leave your house. Not much happens on the way to the airport. Some bum tries to cop a feel, you crack him good with your elbow and tell him not to bother. You're way out of his league. He rubs his cranium with confusion and scurries off like a rat. Maybe you just look more like a quiet victim stereotype in these clothes... Bugger that. No way you're turning back now. You've arrived at Calvin's workshop. Okay, maybe you do care about him a bit. You have extra time. It'll be in and out, everything outside even looks fine. You [] had better check again, people can be sneaky little rats if they put their pea brains to it. [] walk in the front like normal. Play it casual. [] Walk straight by. PITY GUN! DON'T NEED!
Username: Sickly Hyperdimensional Space Magical Robogirl Shoujo Mega Moe Moe Kyun Desuka Daiyo Desho Hyper Kawaiiku Neon Desu~ Usergroup: Teal Master Race Usertitle: Thank you, Adolf
Two years ago I had the flu from just after Thanksgiving to winter finals. One year ago I had possibly the weakest assed cold in existence from midterms through finals. This year, I get up the day of my first final, my vision flickers and then I fall straight back onto my bed. Felt like puking up my guts the rest of the day. Sincerely, Sickly Hyperdimensional Space Magical Robogirl Shoujo Mega Moe Moe Kyun Desuka Daiyo Desho Hyper Kawaiiku Neon Desu~
Spoiler Your head is oddly clear. No internal arguments, just a single driven purpose. It's less interesting but it saves time and effort. So you grab an outfit that won't stand out. Something that exudes that air or demure and reservation that is precisely antithetical to your personality. They'll be completely and utterly fooled. The tossers. Whoever they are. They'll see you and they'll think you're innocent and pure as a freshly fallen snowflake. Or a nun. Nuns are pretty nonthreatening. It's just a sweater and a long skirt you remind yourself. Nuns have wimples. Those things are probably the only threatening thing about nuns though. Never know what's under those... Maybe even baldness. Shudder. You also need to see if your Dragunov is done. It took a tumble back in Belgrade that you thought was the end of it, but Snowflake had been kind enough to salvage it for you and have it sent to your repair man. She always had a way with guns. You're pretty sure her sexuality is somehow related to it. She's never been with a man or even a woman for that matter in all the years you've known her but she sleeps with that damned pistol EVERY. FUCKING. NIGHT. It's absolutely bonkers, could a piece of cold metal ever feel as good as a real... You call Calvin to see if the gun is finished with repairs and wipe the drool from your mouth. Come on, have some damn poise, ya lazy little wart. He doesn't pick up. You text his cell. He doesn't reply. What is this witchery? You have to [] make your flight. Fuck the gun, you'll buy a new one later. [] go see if Calvin's okay. Someone might have stolen your gun. [] leave now, they're after you.
Hoshi no Samidare
They operate in Maryland, West Virginia, Florida, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Ohio.
Yeah that's right, you haven't eaten since last night. You're supposed to be on a diet, but let's be completely honest with yourself. You've never been fat by any stretch of the imagination unless you're counting some of your more conspicuous endowments. You are well the hottest person you know. It's a good feeling being the queen. Why were you even on a diet? Maybe it's your generally unhealthy eating habits you were trying to fix. Regardless of any of that pointless drivel, you've got a pizza with your name quite figuratively on it. Alright. Here it is in all its cold, hard, day old glory. Your banana, pineapple, jalaepeno and pepperoni pizza. As you're working your way through your first slice, you realize it's missing something. Yeah it's missing something alright. Needs more mayonnaise. After you've rectified that oversight in the manufacturing process it's time to get a move on. Seriously, you have somewhere to be, what's all this wherewithall about pizza you've got going on. There are people that desperately need you to get revenge on them and a psychobitch who is going to help you do that whether she is aware of it or not. You've got an hour before you've got to leave for the airport. You haven't packed your... anything, yet. Perhaps now's the time to get on that. You [] Pack up a set of cute clothes and check to see if your package has made it to the States yet. [] Pack up a set of conservative clothes and call a guy about a gun. [] Pack up whatever and get a move on early. [] Don't pack anything and stop by Lemarckus' place.
Spoiler You need only look down to realize what's up. So to speak. You were looking for some pants. Er, maybe a skirt. Something short probably. No point in having legs like yours if you're gonna go around dressed like a dude, or worse, her. Then before you'd found some appropriate netherly accouterments the good old 8-bit Elton had gotten your attention. That's totally what happened. It's your own damn house, the nether garments can wait until you are damned if modesty is gonna dictate how you dress even once. Now it's time to get those tickets. Your computer is a new one and that's about all you can say about it. Computing isn't your thing. You've used the same Mokia Brick since you can remember having a cell phone and you try to have all your meetings in person. It's old fashioned with this video chat stuff you've heard about but it give you a chance to up your count and seal the deal in a more personal way so you prefer it. Tech should only be used to kill people and maybe do one or two other things. You nod to yourself slightly. The airline website is pretty awful you discover after about ten minutes of fiddling and futzing. You really wish you'd done it earlier now, but hindsight is 20/10, you guess. You're a little far sighted so you have to fix the metaphor to apply to you. You don't like wearing your glasses though, because you think it makes you look kind of plain. After ten more minutes you've got your tickets. You also make a note to file a complaint about this. The whole thing is an unmitigated embarrassment and should be repaired post haste. Now you've got your tickets. As you recall you were going to [] remember how nothing you've eaten today. [] clothe thine self. [] admire your awesomeness for a moment.
Girls und Panzer.
Updating.
HIs nametag says Ben. Ben... You haven't had this one before. You briefly think of adding him to the count but he's not really that good looking. In fact he's almost as short as you. Lame. So you grab the package from him, start signing your current alias but then decide to finish with a new surname. You can't be too careful around folk these days. He smiles at you revealing a set of crooked, yellowing stereotypes. You slam the door promptly, only hoping his face was close enough for you to knock a few of the buggers out for you. You run the box through a metal detector next to your door. It's clean. Though there are a few chemical weapons that could be hidden in there that don't need any metal, they'd hardly make it through a trip in a box like this one. So you tear it open. Big surprise. It's sunglasses. Why did you even want these? Ray Bands? Ray Brands? What even does that mean? You toss them aside. If you weren't paid so damn well, you might have a spending problem. What were you doing again? Oh yeah, you've got a psychobitch to see. You were about to print out your plane tickets before you were distracted. What distracted you? Spoiler
It's afternoon and you have to be somewhere. When you say somewhere, you mean across the pond. Good thing it's still early-ish. You might still make it. A sketchy fellow named Lucas Easton tried to hire you yesterday-- three days ago, actually but sleeping schedule aside-- you want to know what the bugger is up to. So you made a few calls, had a DNA analysis done on a hair you found that turned out to be yours and waited around a lot. All you learned from that whole deal was he'd be in America tomorrow looking for a sniper. Probably to replace you since you turned him down. That's what really tore it. Whoever he was working for just thought they could replace you like that. They had someone else in mind even. The nerve of it. The sheer unadulterated nerve. So you knew who it must be. That nutter staying in Colorado. Well, last time you checked she was, she might have moved on by now. Absolutely bonkers. She was the only one it could possibly be. Okay, not really, but you're dead certain of this one so just let it happen. Wait. What is that? Oh, yeah. Your doorbell is calibrated to play Tiny Dancer today. Why did you even get that done? It seemed so novel while you were drunk that time. But a month of 8-bit Elton John later and you're just about sick to death of it. It's probably your sunglasses that you ordered last week either way. Is there no way to make it stop? Is there no peace from this torment? It's what you were waiting on anyway. When you open the door a messenger is there with a package that's labeled with the same brand as those sunglasses you ordered. He asks for a signature. You [] grab the package and slam the door. [] sign your current alias. [] sign something else. [] start flirting with him. Spoiler
I'd play for Team Castro.
Your stomach makes the decision for you with a rather unladylike rumble. You haven't eaten since sometime yesterday afternoon so it makes sense. There's a Chinese food place, a WacDonalds, a Tex-Mex place, a pretzel place and a pizzeria. You hate food court food. In fact, you hate eating. If you could avoid eating somehow, you'd do so. So you calculate out which one seems cheapest per unit volume. Chinese food wins. It's gross. Maybe you should have just not ate anything. Whatever. It's about time to go. At the security gates you make it through without much trouble. The gate keep is a little be handsy though. You frown at her and make your way to the plane. All these people. So many people... Why do planes have to be full of so many people? You're relapsing a bit. You used to have a thing about crowds as a kid but you're mostly over it. It's just sometimes you feel really annoyed by it all, really overwhelmed. You quicken your pace to get on the plane before the bulk of the crowd. The sweating disgusting masses of greasy travelers. Okay, you're about to puke just thinking about all those people so you start thinking about how many you could splatter on the walls before they could stop you. The fact that you derive comfort from this is almost disturbing, but you gotta go with what you know. Once you've boarded you go to your seat. First class involves fewer people so you're willing to cough up the extra cash every time. It's not like you're in short supply at the moment. The seat next to you is nicely empty. You smile slightly. You might regret it but you're feeling kind of relieved now. Things are finally starting to just work correctly. Things are finally going more your speed. You're still dead tired. You're going to [] Sleep. [] Awaken in a strange land. [] Be the other girl. Spoiler
You are roused, somewhat gently, by a rather confused looking boy. The first thing you feel as you gain consciousness is the the rough grip of your gun. You're quick enough to realize that it's unnecessary and stop yourself from drawing it. You do, however, blink at the ginger kid incredulously. He explains that your time is up and that you've gotta clear out. Oh, right. You went to sleep at that nerd place. You feel marginally more rested and a good deal more irritated because it's morning again and you have a flight to catch. At the airport you have considerably less trouble than usual. It's probably because this is the least busy airport you've ever seen. It only just barely needs to exist. It's the only one in this city and only just gets used enough to cut a profit. It's almost sad that it exists. You've got maybe an hour to kill before your flight is up and you've conveniently already gone through the tedium of acquiring your boarding pass. There's a bunch of shops and a food court just off of the lines and 'security.' With how easy it is to sneak a gun by those guys it's a wonder you don't try to carry more when you fly. You'll burn that bridge when you come to it though. For now it's time to do some more quality milling around awkwardly. You've been doing way too much of that lately. By lately you mean yesterday. You [] get breakfast. [] check out the quirky book store. [] check out the souvenir shop. [] wait for your flight patiently. Spoiler
Spoiler You've killed people. You've been in warzones. You're not gonna let some pubescent creeps tell you where you're allowed to sleep. That's right. No fear. The cafe, probably aptly named Cyberia, is a bit empty. Not that it's ever bustling but at this time of night most people go home. But you prefer the echo to their usual clientèle. You go up to the front and ask how the place works. The girl, yes, that's a girl at the counter, gives you a quick rundown of how charges work and how long you're allowed to rent out one of the tiny rooms with little but a couch and a computer. You accept the terms and drop enough cash to cover the few hours you plan on staying. When you're in your own private room you lock the door and sit down. It's a comfy couch at least. You're tired as all hell, but still a bit restless. You [] Shut your eyes, you'll be asleep in no time. [] Browse the internet. [] Phone.
But what you did goes against the spirit of the contest. Rat cited an existing stipulation of the contest in his own post. I feel like it has never explicitly been said before because no one thought there was a need. Copying is not creative, this is a creative contest. I feel like rather than trying to get it legitimized you should probably just take down your current entry. I'm, of course, only speaking for what I would do if put in your position. You've a right to your own thoughts on the matter, obviously.
