[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjI0MC4yNDM5NGMuU205emFIVmhJRXRoYVc0LC4w/qwigley.regular.png[/img]
[b][i]”I never wanted any of this.”[/i][/b][/center]
[hr][INDENT][I][b]The Convoy, Outside Point Bordeaux[/b]
[INDENT]March 18, 2016[/INDENT][/I][/INDENT][hr][center][sub][i]Collaboration with [@Atrophy], [@Nemaisare], & [@Lord Wraith][/i][/sub][/center]
[color=a3b4bc]Grace couldn't answer the question.

Here's the thing about Grace. She wasn't dumb, or rather she hadn't gotten bad grades in school. Her folks had even put up her report card on the fridge so that company could see how their little snot-nosed hellian was at least good at something besides embarrassing them in public or building castles in Minecraft. Still, she wasn't exceptionally quick with the wit and had always taken her time when it came to finding solutions, and when the pressure was on the solutions were always out of sight and reach. So, give her a math problem? Ok. Have her write a report? Fine. Make her do a science project? Done. Have her go up to the board to solve the math problem, read her report, or show off the science project? When people were watching? Nuh-uh. No way.

One time her parents forced her to take part in a Christmas nativity play when she was real little. She was lucky enough (her dad had yelled enough) to get the part of the Virgin Mary and the entire church would see her up on the stage. So when she panicked, forgot her lines, and knocked over fake baby Jesus's cradle as she fled off stage, the entire church saw her. To quote her sisters, "Way to go, Grace Bethany. You killed Jesus and ruined Christmas." It was better than what Dad had said. He had said jack squat. The moral of the story is this: Grace doesn't do well in the spotlight. She couldn't answer this question, not like this.

That was Thumper's job. And when someone with almost a quarter million followers on Twitter, Instagram, and Vine, and gaining more daily went out and got recognized it took a whole ton of pressure off of their shoulders. There was no need for awkward introductions. No room for social suicides. The person talking to them already knew if they hated her or liked her, and whatever she did would just reinforce their own ideas. It was so easy. Before the man had approached Thumper had already tagged Grace out and began preparing a magnificent speech ready for these people. She had already straightened her back, puffed out her chest, and put her hands on her hips, standing like Superman after a day of running around in the mud paintballing with his buddies.

So when a man in a black beret that screamed radical militant approached Thumper threateningly and demanded to know if she meant any harm, it meant this: he had no clue that he was talking to Pointe Bordeaux's self-proclaimed first superhero and Hyperhuman activist. It was humbling. Thumper wouldn't hold any domain here. She dragged Grace, kicking and screaming, back to the helm.

"Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh," she stammered, lifting her hands up to her chest to make it clear she was nonthreatening. "Only if you're planning to pose a threat to this community or its people. I mean I don't know." Her helmet shook side-to-side rapidly. "I mean no. No, no, I'm not here to start any fights or anything. I don't ever start fights; I just end them. Not to imply that I think you're starting a fight with me, because I don't think that its just you have a gun and that makes me real nervous because you might end up hurting someone or yourself or, listen, just listen," she said, her still raised hands pumping up and down as if they were stepping on the brakes. 

"See, I'm Thumper," she said, pointing to the T on her chest. "You know, from everything. Do you have your phone with you? There's this pretty good article about me on—"

"Your [i]alias[/i] is pointless here Miss Kennison." Tarvos replied as he moved his hand away from the gun and pulled his trenchcoat back around him. "We are well aware of who you are and your unfortunate choice in hobby." Tarvos took another step forward. "What I need to ensure is that the boy's family isn't going to be coming after him. He did come willingly didn't he?" The former commander of H.I.T. asked. "You didn't liberate him and bring a mob of angry civilians to our convoy?" He continued before pausing.

"Boy?" she turned and looked at the man on the truck. He wasn't old looking, really, but he was older than her. "Naw, I didn't steal anyone away from any family or any darn thing, unless his folks were the flies he was swatting at in the swamp. I highly doubt that a bunch of mosquitoes are going to mob together to bring him back. At least, I hope that's not the case."

Lucas wasn't paying much attention to the words passing between Tarvos and the newcomers, newcomer. One was sleeping, dead? He looked dead from a distance, probably not though. He frowned, biting at a thumb as he tried to figure out the best approach. He'd stepped back outside, shoulders slumped resignedly, when Serena mentioned a commotion and the window showed someone wandering in. Time to do his job if they were joining. He'd been hoping to get dry and stay dry for a little bit, keep Serena company... Now wasn't the time. 

So, he just came up beside Tarvos, and broke in on the rambling speech, too tired to figure out if everyone else was hearing it, too. "You invited? Can I come over?" He paused to glance between the helmetted figure and Tarvos again, then brought up what was bothering him. "Is he dead?"

At his question she felt her heart leap into her throat. Had she set him down too rough? Had something happened? She spun around, looking at the sleeping man on the bed of the truck. 

"He wasn't dead when I found him, despite all of his efforts to get his stupid butt killed. So no, no, he's not dead, you don't think he's dead is he? Are you a doctor? We should get a doctor if he's dead right?" she said, stammering. However, the man seemed to subconsciously reassure her, as he let out a long, loud snore, turning over and planting his face on the truck he was rested against.

"Oh..." Well, that was that answered. Probably good news. Though if that snore was any indication, he was going to have a noisy set of clothes. Scowling at the thought, Lucas pointed at them and asked his questions again, this time of Tarvos. "Can I go over?" 

"Examine her carefully Lucas." Tarvos answered. "We'll need any sort of warning possible if the city is going to be bringing harm to our convoy."

More hesitant now he'd been given the go-ahead, he closed the distance cautiously, squinting through the rain at the visor, though there was little he could make out through it. He'd volunteered, but he didn't like this part, didn't know what he'd find. Couldn't know, not fun... Still, someone had to do it. So, he was curt when he finally got close and held out his hand, unable to decide between dragging it out or just getting it over with. "Bag."

Grace's hand had outstretched as if going to shake his. It quickly fell to her side when the man made it apparent that he was not the welcoming wagon. The idea of someone rummaging around in her things, especially with the rain coming down on them, was not a pleasant one. Yet she did not have any real room to argue against it. Sliding the bag off of her back, she passed it over to the man.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. Truly a warmer welcoming than I can handle," she said sourly. Another snore emerged from the man, and he grunted slightly.

Okay.” Her sarcasm went right over his head, as he focused on what he was doing now. When she passed it over, he grimaced at the influx of knew memories rushing in, but didn’t let go. He just frowned in concentration and shook it, rattling the contents and then huffing to himself. “No fun, being your bag. Being you.” Too many hours of listening to teachers and nobody listening to her, school bag, not in school though. Old and used. “Out of school clothes, that’s pants, I dunno what those are, that’s a light and bottle.” He didn’t dump the bag out, just unzipped the largest pocket and reached inside to find what he couldn’t identify. A flashlight he found by the feel of warmth at one end and everything reflecting light while hands waved it round. Pants were easy. But before he could close his fingers around the thin strips of curving around and wobbling too many times to keep his head on straight, his searching came up with something else. He pulled out a sleeve of the jacket and glanced at her. “Not yours, who’s Joseph?” 
 
Hand-me-downs and second-hand stores was always a possibility, if she didn’t know who Joseph was, he wasn’t going to accuse her of stealing. It was just a question. But he didn’t like talking to a helmet head, and he needed it next anyway. “Your head’s a bubble, take it off.” 

"I don't think I can do that. It's sorta attached to my—oh. Oh," she said again. He was referring to her helmet. Her statement still stood true. She didn't think it would be a good idea to take it off. What was the point in having a secret identity if you just threw it away the moment someone asked you to show your face? 

She looked around and stared at the suspicious faces around her. She could tell that if she did not listen to this man that things would likely turn South for her, and the only thing further South of here was the ocean. And she couldn't swim. Sighing, she pulled the helmet off of her head and shook her wet hair so that it wasn't so flat against her face. Besides, they already knew who she was, and everyone in the convoy had more to hide than she did anyways.

"Joseph is my brother. How did you know his name?"

Lucas blinked at her for a moment when she finally deigned to take the helmet off, he didn't mind her hesitation, but he was surprised by how young she looked. Then again, wasn't like age counted here. He shrugged at her question, quickly stuffing the jacket back inside the bag to try keeping some of it dry, or well, dryer. "His jacket. Can I see?" He held out his hand for the helmet, offering a trade of it for her backpack.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked as she handed it over to the man.

"Huh?" He didn't understand what she meant, not that he was really paying attention. There were other things on his mind. Like brief glimpses of frightened, angry faces, hands, his? No hers, her hands pointing, spelling out trouble. Oh, that's not good. Eyes flickered over scenes that only he could see, Lucas spent several moments staring into the middle distance, frowning still. "Thief, not good, I think she broke a car. Tarvos she's Thumper, like ow. Fighting on her own, not supposed to do that. You wear that?"

Though he winced at a few of the things he was witnessing, accidents he didn't doubt, he wasn't hesitant at all to step in close so he could pinch a fold of her sleeve up. "Gonna hurt yourself, someone, funny lines, that the Bible?"

"I'm sorry, are you not feeling well too?" she said, glancing towards the other man still asleep on the truck. "I don't know what you're trying to get at here. Since when am I not supposed to do stuff by myself?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. "If you know me, then you know I'm not going to hurt myself." And she thought there was nothing funny about quoting the Bible, but she left that part out thanks to her chat with Joseph earlier that day.

"Sorry, okay, don't know you, fighting's bad." Even before he'd attended a few talks at PRCU, Lucas hadn't enjoyed the thought of violence. A little rough-housing during a game was alright, but other than that, it just, well, hurt. So, he just muttered an answer as proximity diverted his attention to something even better than her helmet or her bag. "Oh, this's yours. It's nice." 

Slipping a finger along her neck he hooked out her necklace. Grace shot her hand out to grab his as her eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're doing?" she spat.

"Ow." He froze as she caught him, realising too late that he was doing something she might not like, but his own regret brought out what was buried in the chain and the man shut his eyes tight as resignation, fear and muttered prayers washed through him. Life in that cross, living sad, living with God. Sliver of silver and "Ow, ow, ow. Let go. I don't want it, I don't."

"Sorry," she said, letting go of his hand. "You just caught me by surpise, that's all. Sorry."

Just at that moment, the tension that had stirred up in the air was immediately broken, as Joshua fell off the bed of the truck and onto the ground. He woke with a start, sitting up and looking around, a graze on his cheek slowly fading into obscurity. After a few seconds, it was normal flesh again, with no sign of any cut to begin with. He wiped away whatever blood there was. [color=d8d8d8][b]"Ow, ow, fuck fuck fuck!"[/b][/color] He groaned, looking around. [color=d8d8d8][b]"Where am I? Who the fuck are you all?"[/b][/color] His gaze instantly shot to the woman from the swamp, [color=d8d8d8][b]"And why is [i]she[/i] here?"[/b][/color]

Josh's ice blue eyes glared daggers at everyone, his head spinning from the high. [color=d8d8d8][b]"That maniac better not have nearly killed me again..."[/b][/color] He muttered, sorting out his backpack and putting it back into the right spot. It tended to shift around a lot, and dig into his ribs, which wasn't exactly comfortable for him. He'd already had to walk miles and miles with no intended goal, for as long as he could remember. It had been years since he had known what it was like to live somewhere, and not be a travelling hobo.

Grace stared at the man rolling around on the ground like a pig. Slowly, she turned to the person who had been searching her. All she said was: "I do not know this man."

For his own part, Lucas turned to stare too, confused by his outburst, then, when Grace spoke up to deny all knowledge of him, he turned back with a grin. It was funny, it was. But also true, the helmet had caught his voice and echoed back the conversation. "Okay, I know. Shouldn't swear." Handing back her helmet and dropping the cross since he could now, he turned back to Tarvos with a shrug. "She's alright. Finishes things..." A better quality than starting them, at any rate. 

Then he crouched down by the other man. "You fell off. Bag?" His hand came out just as it had when he first spoke with Grace. Hopefully demanding, but not overly assertive.

Joshua simply glared at them, speaking with a low tone. [color=d8d8d8][b]"I don't even know who you are. Don't expect me to be as stupid as everyone else on this damned planet."[/b][/color] He fumbled around in his pockets, making sure everything was there, before standing up and wiping the rain off his red flannel hoodie as best as possible. [color=d8d8d8][b]"The answer is no."[/b][/color] It'd take some persuading for him to give up his possessions to a man he'd never seen before. Hell, this could be a group of Hyperhuman killers.

Standing with him after a moment's hesitation, Lucas scowled at the ground while rubbing the hand Grace had inadvertently squished a little hard. "Not stupid, don't want it, just looking for-it's my job. Okay."

"Listen," said Grace, stepping towards her swamp buddy and speaking in a hushed tone. "Don't be such a jerk. This is the convoy. You were hooting and hollering like an idiot out in the swamp that you were looking for them, and we found them. Well, I found them. For you, okay?"

After a brief thought, Josh heaved the lump of weight off his shoulders and slung it towards the man. It was better that he give him the damn thing than risk the chance of not getting a spot on the convoy, if the girl was telling the truth. [color=d8d8d8][b]"Fine. You can have it. But if you take a single thing from that bag, I will slit your throat."[/b][/color] Most of them would've probably thought that last bit was uncalled for, but he wasn't taking any chances. [color=d8d8d8][b]"And you,"[/b][/color] He turned to the girl, looking her directly in the eyes. [color=d8d8d8][b]"I'll act however I want, got it? And, as I've said before, [i]you're[/i] the idiot compared to me. If you can't get that in your tiny, pathetic brain, then I don't know how you've survived all this time."[/b][/color]

"Stop, stop, no, just ask. It's easier." He caught the bag. Couldn't say that he was happy about it when that threat came up clear in his head. But he had to make sure they were safe, both safe, not just her. He already didn't like him. Warily, Lucas crouched again and set the bag down, there was something in there he didn't want to find, he knew that already. "Huh, not fun being your bag either. Everyone's an idiot, brain." 

Despite the threat, he opened the zipper and reached inside just as he had with Grace's bag. Doing his job and trusting that the others would keep him safe if it came to that. Their job. He just hoped they wouldn't have to do anything. "Writer, it's all fancy 'e's but she loves you. She does and that's a shirt, but where's the rattling?"

He dug deeper, recognising the feel of a child's toy or pills. Medication maybe, he wanted to check, got distracted. "That's not... Sick? Dunno. It's warm around dark, that's-" When he finally realised what that memory belonged to, Lucas pulled back, dropping everything as though it burned and staring at Josh with eyes as round as they could get. "They died?" 

Josh simply looked at him like it was nothing out of the ordinary. [color=d8d8d8][b]"You'd do things, too, if you were close to death. It was me or them. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes."[/b][/color] He said bluntly, dismissing the fact that other people's lives were apparently as important as his. [color=d8d8d8][b]"Anything else you'd like to make a big deal of? Or can I have my bag back?"[/b][/color]

Wiping his mouth with the back of a shaking hand, Lucas shook his head and backed away, he didn't want to go digging through any more of the man's stuff. Didn't want to know. Just wanted to forget that sensation. "Tarvos... Sliding in sharp but it killed-he killed them, there's something, I don't know. Let it go, get out. Get it out, I don't want it any more." 

Joshua's shining blue eyes began flicking from one face to the other, making sure nobody was going to attack. Since the man who'd searched his bag wasn't making any sense, he let out a long sigh. [color=d8d8d8][b]"Look, I've done some... fucked up things to survive, let's say that, but it doesn't mean I'm a maniac. You have to let me on this convoy, otherwise I'm just gonna have to keep doing it to stay alive. It's nothing you haven't seen on television, or in movies before."[/b][/color] He said, just in case they were planning to kick him out.[/color]