Will probably update it when I add onto it. Or something.
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He had the rifle pointed directly at her cockpit-- their zoids were basically nose to nose. She stared past the barrel at the enemy Command Wolf. Minutes, though they seemed more like hours, passed.
'Is he going to shoot?' she wondered, hands gripping the controls, ready to lurch her machine to the side. Chances were, if he decided to fire, at this range she's never be quick enough to avoid a direct hit. And a direct hit at this range would kill her, no doubt.
"Open your cockpit." Her opponent commanded, his voice crackling slightly over the radio. When she didn't respond, he repeated the command. "Open your cockpit and get out. Now."
She growled slightly, releasing the controls and opening up the cockpit. She murmured a quiet, "I'll be back soon, Ghost." to her mechanical companion as she slipped out of her seat, straightened out her uniform, and climbed out into the dry desert air, standing on her zoid's cheek. She watched as the cockpit of the Command Wolf opened and a young man stepped out. He was probably older than her-- definately taller-- and he wore no uniform.
Which, given the current situation, probably meant he was a bandit. And here she was, a young girl traveling alone through the desert. Definately not a good situation to be in, considering how he'd just basically stalked and cornered her over the last fifteen minutes or so. She sucked in a deep breath as she watched him make his way across to her, using the rifle to bridge the gap between the two machines.
As he got closer, she shifted back, over the neck of her Fox and onto its back, where it was relatively flat, and wide enough for her to move around. He was standing in front of her before long, a cocky grin plastered onto his face-- and she had been right. He had a good six inches on her, height-wise.
"What's an Imperial soldier doing out here all alone? Got a platoon hidden nearby?" He asked, one hand on his hip-- no, she corrected herself-- his hand was resting on the gun held to his belt. She narrowed her eyes at that, then looked back up to his face. His smirk was wider now. What an obnoxious expression.
"Do I look like I have the authority to command a platoon?" she asked, pointing to her chest-- or, rather, the lack of pins and medals on her chest. She was only a Private, and recently demoted, at that.
"I suppose not." He sniffed, pointedly looking over her head. Her hands tightened into fists, but she forced herself to hold her temper. He seemed to notice, however, even without looking directly at her. But now he was back to business.
"In any case, you're coming with me." He said, reaching out to take her by the arm. Knocking his hand away, she darted forward, aiming to get past him and back into the cockpit. He hadn't exactly expected that-- if anything, he'd expected her to move back-- so it surprised both of them when the bullet nearly hit her in the foot. She tripped and fell forward, her weight thrown off by throwing that foot backwards, away from where the bullet had hit, and he caught her, taking this chance to get a firm grip on her arm.
"You almost fucking shot me!" She shrieked, glaring up at him. He only smiled like a jackass and tugged her forward a bit.
"Come on, sweetcheeks. We're going."
"Call me that again and I'll rip your throat out." She growled, not pleased with this situation. "And where are we going, exactly? I never agreed to become your prisoner--"
"Last I checked, people didn't normally agree to being taken prisoner." He smirked at her again. "We're going back to my base; I'm sure my commander would love to talk to you."
She paused, refusing to take another step. "Your base? So you -are- a Republican?"
"No." He pulled her forward again, helping her cross the gap between their Zoids and into his Command Wolf's cockpit. It was a small space, she noticed. Only one seat, and not enough room behind it for a person to fit. Which meant--
He shifted her into his lap, and strapped the safety restraints around the both of them before she had time to slip away. His smirk met her glare as he put his arms around her to take the controls and started forward.
"Good thing you're so tiny, otherwise I wouldn't be able to see where I'm going."
Strike two. She elbowed him in the gut, forced to lean forward slightly as she did. When he recovered, the tables were turned. She was the one smirking, and he was looking rather irritated.
"Do that again, and you'll regret it, doll." He muttered, low enough so that, normally, she probably wouldn't have heard him clearly. Of course, he was only something like two inches from her ear at the moment, so she understood every word perfectly. And he sounded like he meant it.
There wasn't much talking between the two of them throughout their journey. She was busy trying to formulate an escape plan, and he was busy piloting. The desert slipped by quickly, and within the hour, they had arrived at a small, old looking military base-- she assumed it had originally belonged to the Republic by how run down it looked; and also by its location. They were in some sort of ravine-- she was pretty sure this was Republican territory.
Pulling into the hangar, he undid the safety restraints and opened the cockpit, replacing his firm hold on her arm before nudging her out onto the metal platform beside the Command Wolf's head. She looked around at the other zoids-- a couple Rev Raptors, Guysacks, Molgas... mostly the zoids commonly used for sleeper traps. Easy enough for bandits and rebels to get ahold of, if they knew how to hotwire the computer. There were also a few slightly higher-tier zoids-- another Command Wolf (an old desert one-- his was white), a Redler, a couple Hel Digunners and, to her surprise, an Iron Kong PK.
"I'm guessing the tank over there belongs to this 'commander' of yours?" She asked, nodding towards the Iron Kong. "Wonder what he's compensating for."
"Watch your mouth." He warned, as the metal platform descended to the floor. "You don't want to get yourself into shit with him."
She snorted, walking along as he led her from the now grounded platform. She wasn't afraid of this commander of his. Probably some washed-up general or something, or a deserter. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to fear from these people-- there were no higher-ups other than the one she was going to see now. Though, there was always that slim chance of death.
But since when had she let that bother her? She wasn't too proud to try and squirm her way out of things, if the situation required such action. Hell, -he- seemed more nervous than she was. He was keeping his grip tight, almost painfully so, and that jackass-smirk of his was gone, replaced instead with a serious expression.
They walked down a couple decently long corridors-- he nodded to the people they passed, and she scowled at them. Finally, they turned into a room on the left, and stopped a few feet in front of a desk. Her captor saluted with his free hand, while she inspected the man behind the desk.
He was older, but not -old- old. Probably in his mid to late thirties, by her guess. Again, definately taller than she was (she would have felt sorry for him if he wasn't-- she was rather short). He stood, resting both hands on the edge of his desk, and watched them for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.
"Kid," he nodded to her captor, "What have you got there?"
"Sir, I found her moving through our territory, alone. She seems to be a private in the Imperial Army, though the high-end zoid she was piloting suggests otherwise."
Next, the man looked to her, frowning. "And what were you doing passing through our territory?" She rolled her eyes.
"I didn't -know- it was your territory. I was passing through on my way to Guygalos." She scowled, "Pardon me for not knowing that -bandits- owned this part of the desert. Maybe put up signs next time. Or actually pick a side to fight for, instead of running some shady-as-hell military operation from some remote, broken down base in a ravine."
He looked angry. She borrowed her captor's jackass-smirk. "What's the matter, couldn't make it in the real army, pops?"
His hand was quick-- she didn't even realize he'd struck her until after. She stared at the man, shocked, a tiny stream of blood escaping from the side of her mouth. The shock could only last for so long, however, before rage began bubbling up. Her captor felt her tense, and held her arm tighter. The commander folded his hands behind his back.
"Now," he began, looking down at the girl, "Name and rank."
I have nothing to do.
Like, at all.
I should be studying for anthropology, but I'll fail anyway, so who cares.
Janel's not home yet.
There's something oddly lonesome about spending your last night in college by yourself.
I sort of feel like someone should be throwing me a party.
Also, this entry was just to waste space, pretty much. Pass a few minutes of my time.
God, I hate motorcycles.
SHUT UP. IT'S 9:30 AT NIGHT. GO THE HELL HOME.
-attempts to study more-
So, ah, yeah. Here I am.
Thanks to the lovely Erika. Who inspired me to join this... place.
I LOVE YOU ERIKA. <3
