[center][h3][color=39b54a]Emily, or #2[/color][/h3]
[u]Fort Hood, Texas, January 23rd.[/u] [/center]

	That's 2 for ya. 

	Emily found herself in the backseat next to Akasha. The little witch was probably more brainwashed than Number Two was. It was a strange sensation, to realize one's own conditioning and not be able to do anything about it. To know that Antoine was a meaningless, snivelling little cretin, and yet for her heart to soar with happiness whenever Antoine was proud of her nonetheless. An appreciative smile, and she was wrapped around his bony little finger. He was her handler, and she did what he told her too do. Those were the facts of the universe, eternal and unchanging. Like gravity, the sun, and the swelling of the oceans.

	#2 looked disconcertedly over at the cat-shaped backpack. What the Hell was in that thing? The brunette guessed it was a bomb of some kind. Explosive? Biological? She bit her lower lip nervously when the pink-haired teen started going on about the end of days.

	[color=39b54a]"[i]All [/i]mortals? Christ, hope the bomb's not really that big." [/color]She joked, using shit wit to hide her nerves. [color=39b54a]"At least your genocidal murder plot isn't bigoted. That's refreshing. It is 2023 after all; terrorism is egalitarian now." [/color]

	She began messing with her right bracelet, the accessory suddenly too tight for her wrists. Big ass bomb. Creepy little girl. Military base. Cowboy hats, sombreros. Tasteful company. This whole thing didn't sit right in her stomach. January in Texas. Cool in the shadows, warm in the sun. Too much dirt and gravel. The brunette rolled her wrist, flexing her fingers. When the car pulled to a stop, Number Two hopped out and adjusted her shorts and tightened her belt to fortify against any wardrobe malfunctions. She flattened out and tightened her shirt as best she could, pulling the collar back up to her slender marble shoulders.

	Exposed. That's how she felt. Inside a military compound and out of random car comes the freak show. [color=39b54a]"Fucking clowns in a clown car."[/color] Number Two complained to the air. 

	[color=39b54a]"A kawaii cat girl, a wannabe vlogger, and a basic white bitch walk into Fort Hood. Sounds like the start to a shitty joke. Only question is:"[/color] Number Two closed the door to the car behind her, the smirk on her face losing it's humor. [color=39b54a]"Who's the punchline?"[/color]