war breeds torment

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber looked at the devastation around her. Children dirty and growing thin, mothers unable to feed them. It was tribal. "war only breeds torment." she murmured. This was a deep statement from a former member of a terrorist group. Mind you a member who had no real idea of the terror and monstrosities they committed till.....till it was to late. Till that school, full of little kids....they had told her it was empty, that the kids were off that day, that the idea was to make people think that they would kill several small kids, not actually do it. If she had known she would have never done it. She would have never leaked flammable gas into the school. She would have never set a fuse up so that when the gas finally reached the fuse....

Amber tried to force those memories back. She tried not to remember how the kids who hadn't died came running out screaming in pain, most of them wit Major body parts on fire. She tried not to remember the pain in their voices. She forced the memories back. Now was not the time to think on the past, now was the time to concentrate on living to the future.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

In his Marine fatigues, with his Marine M40A1 Sniper Rifle slung over his shoulder, Preston limped down what used to be the main street of Topeka, Kansas. These days, being a Marine didn't earn you respect as much as it earned you jealous looks and beggers. Everyone wanted to know how good your shot was, how often you found an animal to kill, and if you could make a fire to cook it on or if you were forced to eat it raw. The cane Preston walked with didn't help that at all though. Mind you, having a cane didn't make more people come to him, either, but certainly no less.

Today was the same. Preston had to shake off the beggers asking for fresh meat, dry meat, spoiled meat. Something to help them live another day. Preston had almost nothing with him, so he made the excuse of being a horrid shot. Most people didn't realize that he was carrying a sniper rifle, so he was obviously a good shot. You wouldn't be a Marine sniper if you couldn't shoot a gun.

One kid grabbed onto Preston's damaged leg, his left. His knee buckled, and he fell forward, landing on his left knee. Tyson barked at him, and the kid scampered away. Preston stayed down for a second. He didn't have the energy to get up yet, and the pain was too great.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber watched as the marine walked down the street. He claimed to be a bad shot, yet he carried a sniper gun. Amber had to hold back a laugh. Bad shot, as if any marine sniper was a bad shoot, their whole career was Dependant on being a good shot. She had to hold back an other shot as some kid caused him to fall. This just kept getting better and better. Still she felt a little sorry for the marine, he looked in pain. She wondered when he got hurt, and how. What had happened that would hurt a marine.

Sighing Amber walked out of the shadows. Street rats scurried away from her. She didn't look like she had food since she was thin as a rail, but that was because amber was naturally skinny. But the baggy black sleeveless t-shirt didn't make her look any bigger. She also was wearing a pair of jeans and black boots commonly worn by army members, which made seance considering she had stole them off a passed out army guy. She walked up to the marine squatted down and said softly so only he could hear, "ya a marine sniper is a bad shot, why don't I believe it." then loudly so others could hear she said, "do you need help?"

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston heard the footsteps before he saw the feet. She was right, he wasn't a bad shot. He was a great shot. "I don't need your help," Preston said rudely, never raising his head. "I'm a Marine Gunnery Sergeant, I didn't steal this uniform." He lowered his voice before continuing. "I have no food right now. And if I tell them I'm a good shot, then they'll follow me around. Whatever scarce game I find, I won't be able to keep to myself. I'll get next to nothing off of my own kill. A bone or two, maybe, or a piece of bad meat, at best. Not only that, but I don't want company."

United States Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Preston Felix Davis carefully got to his feet using his cane. He wished desperately that he didn't have to use it, but he did and that was that. Without the damn cane he couldn't walk at all. He started to limp away from the girl he still hadn't looked at, tugging on Tyson's leash to get the dog to follow, but he had a feeling she was going to follow him. He wasn't sure why, he just did.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

He was right, Amber fallowed him, her red hair blowing faintly in the slight wind. The good thing about travailing with amber was last street urgent who asked her for food was thrown into a wall then kicked in the groin, ever since then any one who heard the story stayed clear of her. Amber couldn't help but smile at the memories. That was one good thing about being in this world, disputes like that were handled much easier. But besides that there was nothing, nothing good about this world. Nothing good about starvation poverty death and children and old people dieing every day.

"I'm amber, Amber Watkins." she said her Irish accent clear she lowered her voice. "I can see why you lie." then she raised her voice again, "how did you hurt your leg? A very bad war wound?" she asked. Her voice was of usual pitch, a bit more gravelly then normal for a girl. her dark blue eyes shone with misfit. Her skin was so pale that in this light you could see every vain just below the skin. Her smile was unusually large and according to her friends resembled that of a friendly shark.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"No," Preston said sarcastically. "I faked an injury and they gave me a cane. Those doctors aren't very smart, you know." In truth, he had had loads of shrapnel shot into his leg from a grenade. They had patched him up and sent him back into battle immediately, buy if he had had proper medical care and bed rest, he would have regained full use of his leg. However, his country needed him to fight a war, so he loaded himself with painkillers and fought. Being a sniper, most of the time he was pretty far from the people he was shooting, but an enemy, a German soldier, had snuck up on his sniper's nest from behind and lobbed a grenade into it. If Preston had been two seconds slower, boom! He wouldn't have survived, let alone used his leg again.

"You have food?" Preston asked. He had finished his off the previous night. He had meant to go hunting that day, but couldn't manage to get through Topeka unnoticed for once. Normally, even with his bum leg, Preston was good at sneaking through town unnoticed. Today, however, he just couldn't get away.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber took a long look at him, and had a inward battle. On one hand, he was a cripple, on the other it was her food. Hmm...cripple food cripple food, the battle went on in her brain, finally what was left of her concise won. "fine, fallow me." she said leading him off to where she had found shelter. "You never told me your name, what is it?" she asked as she led him down Alley's away from the rest of the population of Topeka. "I told you mine." they came up to a small house that looked like the door was nailed shut, I say looked like because after looking around to make sure no one was looking Amber opened the door with out trouble.

The inside was a mess of course, she had set up camp in what use to be the living room. "camp consisted of a mattress, a blanket, a plastic box with lid that held various dried meats, a small pile of cloths and two pairs of character shoes from Ambers days on the stage. the stood in a place of honor next to her mattress. Those were the best days of Amber's life. shiny black high helled shoes and less shiny skin cooled ones.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"United States Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Preston Davis, ma'am," Preston said, straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back and holding the cane in them. He didn't say 'ma'am' much anymore, except when introducing himself as he had just done. Tyson sat obediently at his feet, and apart from the cane and filth, the two looked much like they had back at the beginning of the war, though it wasn't Preston's feet that Tyson had sat at then.

"You managed to find a standing building?" Preston asked, relaxing. "If I were you I'd move out to the woods. This setup is just stupid. Someday, you'll get robbed. If you've been here since the war, you've been robbed already, you just don't necessarily notice. And what the fuck is with those shoes? C'mon, that's just ridiculous. You shouldn't have anything more than what's absolutely necessary. You'll be screwed when you have to move quickly and you've got all this shit to lug around. A mattress and blanket? A sleeping bag is much more practical."

Preston himself had a small camp out in the woods, hidden among the tree trunks, perfectly camouflaged. Every once in a while, he himself walked right by it. All it was was a tent, anyway, hidden partially underground. It was a tricky set-up. Most of the time it was completely empty, but on rare occasions there was a deer carcass or something else recently hunted. Preston's backpack, sleeping bag, and rifle were on his back, with ammo and a canteen on his belt.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber sat back listening to this whole thing with a amused smile on her face. "Your really polite to the person who's offering you food arnt you. 1) I'm reluctant to move into the woods because I prefer a place less open to the elements and I don't want some insane rapist walking in to my camp one night and...well you can finish that story. 2) The shoes are here because I like them and if some one ever comes into this place at night the squeaky door will wake me up and the high heeled shoes are very useful when you need to throw something that could cause perming damage. and 3) I like mattress and blanket I don't have a sleeping bag. as for being robbed I can get robed in the wilderness to, besides I have a planed allergies, I wouldn't be able to breath in the forest surrounded by plants, I would be sneezing and coughing all the time. So thanks for the advice but I'll stick to my set up." she said. with this she opened up her tub-o-meat as she called it and handed Preston a long strip of dried red yummy dear meat.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"I never asked for food. I asked if you had food," Preston pointed out. Then he replied in the way that she had originally stated her arguments. "One, the forest is less open to the wind and sun than the city. Not to mention most people prefer the city. I've lived in the forest since the war ended, and I've seen maybe one person a week.

"Two, just because you think they'll come at night doesn't mean they will. Most likely they'll make sure you aren't here before they rob you. And a high heel won't do much damage, whatever you think.

"Three, everyone is a thief. Go steal a sleeping bag or something and sell your mattress and blanket.

"And I already told you about being robbed. Even with a pollen allergy, the forest is safer. There aren't many flowers in the forest any more."

Preston put the strip of meat in a pouch on his belt, but first he fed the tiniest bit to Tyson. He did his best to feed Tyson everyday, even if he couldn't feed himself. Both of them had gotten used to very little food over the years, so it wasn't very hard to go a day without food. Besides, the day wasn't over yet- Preston might be able to hunt tomorrow morning if he got back to his tent by sundown.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber took a strip of meat and chewed on it. She looked at the pair of shoes. He didnt get it, she couldnt just get rid of them, they simbolized the best years of her life. The years she had ended by being stupid and joining the IRA, what had she been thinking! But one look at those shoes and those thought were all gone, replaced by memories of fun, like running down the backstage hallways in nothing but her slip. She had been chaseing after Marco who had stollen her costume. Apon getting said costume she had slaped marco so hard she left a red mark. She missed those days. She missed watching newbies try to figure out how to apply all the make up. She could still recall all the words to all the songs that she had preformed. But now Marco and her other theater friends were either gone or liveing some where ealse. With a slight jolt she pulled herself back to reality. and looked a Preston. "Why do you care about it, what do you care about a girl you only met once?" she asked then added, "And I refuge to steel, I've comited enough sins...enough crimes in my life time, I wont comit any more if I can avoid it." her tone said this last proclamation was not to be questioned.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston watched her silently as she thought something over, presumably related to what he'd said. Probably those stupid shoes or something. Then she asked why he cared, and he snorted. "I don't care, actually, but you're just stupid with this set-up." He was tempted to rob the place just to show her, take those stupid, pointless shoes and all her meat, leave the city so he wouldn't have to sit through some stupid talking-to from this stupid girl. Then, of course, distribute her meat to anyone he saw on his way. It was a good excuse to leave town, but did make him seem like a wimp, when all he really wanted to get away from was a long lecture about nothing. He could take her in a fight anyway, so it's not like that's what he was afraid of. Anyway, Preston had planned on moving to Switzerland asap. He even knew someone who still had a plane, a B-3 bomber, still in working condition.

"Look, kid," Preston said. He could tell she was younger than him, so he called her kid, never ma'am. Tyson barked. "I don't care how many innocent men, women, or children you've killed, if you aren't going to steal to live, you're going to die sooner than those who will. So if you won't steal, just let me shoot you now."

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber thought about what he said for a second. "569, children, 75 adults all in one go." she said. saying this she got up and looked out the window, she sat down and watched the empty streets as if they were the most interesting thing she had ever saw. She couldn't look at the marine. She couldn't stand to see the look of surprise on his face. It was always there, the surprise that a girl who looked like her would be able to kill that many people. the fact was she wasn't able to kill all those people, she hadn't known what she was doing. If she had, she wouldn't have done it. She had to stop thinking about this, "Your probably right, I should leave, and get rid of those shoes. I am probably going to get robed." she said. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She reached back and fingered where she knew her tattoo was. She remembered the pain it had been getting that put on, for some insane idea that it would make her tougher she had decided to put it on prison style. It had hurt like hell, and it was ugly. Just one phrase, IRA wants Brits out. So simple, but it contained so much hate.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, but he did shrug. "So? I told you, I don't care how many people you've killed. I've killed hundreds, thousands even- literally 900 people with one bomb once. I killed the fucking President, for crying out loud! Everyone kills, whether they mean to or not. Somehow, every person alive is responsible for another person's death. It's that simple. Especially these days."

Tyson barked again, again, and again. Preston knelt awkwardly next to him. "What is it, boy?" The dog, knowing that Preston knew something was up, started sniffing around the small building. Within seconds he found what he was looking for and started pawing at the ground. Preston "army-crawled" after his dog, carefully. Tyson was usually silent unless he smelled something, when he barked. If he only barked once, it usually meant nothing- all dogs bark, after all.

Preston brushed some dirt off the patch of floor Tyson was pawing at and saw that there were wooden boards nailed there. A floor. Not surprising, really, but what was was that the floor was made of old, ill-fitting boards. Rotting, even. Preston pulled them off easily, and Tyson barked again, three more times. There was a hole in the floor under the boards, and Preston reached in to pull out... a bag of cocaine, three grenades, and an old pack of cigarettes.

As quickly as he could, Preston stood up and whipped around, leaving the things in the pit. His body had shielded them, so Amber didn't know what he had pulled out. "What are those there for?" he asked. "Where did you get them?" He unslung the rifle from his shoulder and pointed it in her direction, though relaxed. She knew he was a Marine sniper- she knew he wouldn't miss if he shot her.

[Amber Juliea Watkins]

Amber got up, then walked over to where he was. Her eyes widened as she saw the contents of the floor. "How the hell should I know! I wasn't the first to live here!" she said defensively. "You cant honestly think those are mine! What the hell would I do with them!"

Amber had never smoked. Doing so would be stupid, she was a actress, she played in musicals, she needed her lungs to be in good condition. As for the coke, of course that wasn't hers. She was to skinny as it was. plus all getting high would do would give her the munchies. Yeah that would really help in a time where there was vary little food to go around. As for the grenades, she couldn't stand the sound of explosions any more, or the site of fire. Grenades wouldn't have helped her at all.

Amber looked Preston right in the eyes, "I don't know where they came from, they're not mine, I've never seen them before in my life. They probably came from who ever lived here first." She made a point to look him in the eyes, so that he could tell she wasn't lying. People tend not to believe you if you don't look at them.