missolive
Every day, methodically, she cleaned the cuffs of her suit. She did it by hand, because that was regulation, and it suited her just fine despite the fact that she was tired from the long hours and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and get a few more hours of sleep. What kept her going wasn't love for the job, nor a personal pride in her work, but the fact that she didn't know anything else.
The generator wouldn't last, and it was imperitive that the building have electricity. Their only option was to travel through the storm to get the powerplant up and running.
"I think I like you." That remark, despite its innocence, was enough to send chills down her spine. He wasn’t particularly talkative anyway, and he certainly wasn't friendly, so that only added to the emphasis of the statement. It seemed like such a huge milestone and she wondered, vaguely, if anything would ever be the same again.
The only light in the room was the flickering of the lantern, whos patterns danced across the walls, casting long shadows on the floor. With each passing moment, the oil in the lamp burned away until nothing but an empty, blackened bottom remained.
Their last stand would be the most brilliant display that the entire world had ever seen. It would be the most amazing show, a once in a lifetime event, so that generations to come would envy their own times' lack of events that were to par.
Yes, these were the lucky ones--the ones that would be around to see it. Unfortunately for them, their "last stand" wasn't coming any time soon. They were too good to be taken down THAT easily!
"I don't know what you're talking about." Jensen spat, and everyone there knew it was bullshit, but none of them could convince him that they knew otherwise. Because to him, information withheld could mean the difference between a mission's failure, and its success.
He kept going, never breaking stride despite the obvious difficulties. Because if there was one thing he was certian of, it was that to stop now would mean the end of not only him, but everyone who depended on him as well.
He was running out of time. He hadn't expected any kind of security system here, and he certainly wasn't looking for any traps. Who would have thought that they would have anything to stop him--let alone a bomb?
And the problem was, he didn't have any way to fix this--he was helpless. This time trail kept tickly slowly onward, and all he could do was watch, stony faced and accepting, as the numbers droped second by second to zero.
He didn't care that Ace never seemed to warm up to the idea of playing with him, he didn't care that the boy had left him countless times to die. He could take care of himself, but if there was one thing that he was certain of, it was that Ace needed a friend. So he ignored the fact that Ace didn't want to hang out with him and honestly didn't seem to care. Luffy went after him regardless-- he knew better.
He chased after him day after day, month after month, and although he didn't enjoy putting himself in dangerous situations or barely escaping an untimely demise, he continued on. He actually liked Ace, and there was certianly no reason to hold a grudge, not matter how many times the older boy wronged him, because eventually they would become great friends--he could feel it.
It wasn't that Ace didn't want any friends. On the contrary--he wanted so much to find a friend that didn't think he was scum, that he'd simply shut off any chance of ever meeting one, but also any chance of ever being disappointed. But there was on thing Ace didn't know, even if he was older and stronger.
Luffy never disappoints.