005.
//Is that a Gun in your pocket, or you Happy to see me?//
"Hey, I NEED those supplies!"
Liria yelp as they stumble, hyper aware of the rifle trained between their shoulders. The aggressor shoved Liria harder, causing them to stumble, wincing.
Liria really, really hoped that when they turned around they will see people.
Well, they do, but the hoodies and masks and ski goggles give off more of a criminal sense then a "hi I just saved you" feel. And then one pointed the smoking stick (A SHOTGUN) at Liria, and told them to toss the backpack to the side.
Basically?
Liria's getting robbed.
They aren't very sure how to feel about that.
Next to them, Liria watched in despair as another one of the masked masqueraders dig through their backpack, items spilled on the road as they are forced further and further away from the car, past the green stain and ruined cloth on the ground.
Knees shaking, they gulp as they feel the cold metal of the gun poke them for the umpteenth time, feeling mildly faint. They are not made for this. They are made for a couch, and sleeping in the warm sunlight and looking pretty.
"Tee, check this out!" somebody yells back, voice a smooth inflection that seems like a high masculine or a low femanine. Despite the warning signs, Liria turns around, confused at the sudden noise from a normally quiet group. They get an eyeful of a hood and a face mask glaring back and the (gulp) gun, but behind them the one rifling through their backpack does a strange jiggle dance, toilet paper in one hand and a familiar silver bar in the other. They are nearly genderless, wearing a surgeon mask and sunglasses. A heavy eye searing orange cloak with black bands covers their shoulders, and underneath that a modest black hoody with fingerless gloves.
The words leave Liria's mouth before they can stop themselves.
"DON'T TOUCH THAT."
The backpack thief , no-good-nosy person blinked.
Well, Liria can't see them blinking behind the sunglasses, but they can tell because the unknown person gives a full body shrug like a horrible, horrible three year old.
"Excuse me then," they reply modestly, nose wrinkled. "On the otherhand, you have CHOCOLATE or brown turd nuggets, and between us you feel more of the sweet sugary goodness then recycled fatty tissues squeezed out of-"
"Ess, quiet," the one holding the gun told them flatly in a distinctively feminine voice. The blue ski-mask all but hides her expression, and complete with the roaring tiger mask, she cuts a terrifying sight despite her relatively short stature. She's wearing a large black hoody as well, but with combat boots and what appears to be climbing gloves. And she's carrying a huge looking rifle.
Liria tried not to be scared. They really did, but this person has reached a new level of terrifying they didn't even know they can comprehend with their lizard brain. This is a person. Carrying a Gun.
(Years ago that would have been less surprising, but Liria has grown used to the idea the people of Framecast and the people of the outside world were DIFFERENT. Obviously, they are WRONG.)
YOU ARE READING
Glitched.
Fanfiction(AKA: I wrote over 60,000 words on a weak noodle man trying to survive not getting skewered by magic zombies. ) Sometimes, you are very small when faced against the world. Liria knows this- knows the smell of copper and rot intimately with the flic...
