<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=184573.msg8877024#msg8877024">Quote from: Supernova1 on September 09, 2013, 06:01:26 pm</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br/><br/><strong>Music, laughter, a home cooked meal, friends, and a hot shower. These were all things Alexa missed horribly and not necessarily in that order. One moment she had been laughing and partying with her friends and the next thing she knew, she was learning how to survive on her own in a world gone completely mad. Well, not completely on her own. One friend had managed to survive with her, but even she was gone now. There was nothing like your own best friend willing to kill you over a can of fruit. Alexa eyed the mean looking cut along her abdomen before settling her dirty grey tee shirt back down over the top of her worn and faded jeans. She needed medical supplies desperately to get the cut cleaned and bandaged and even more important than that was the need for shelter. Darkness was descending on the war torn looking streets of Los Angeles. It didn't matter how tough you were, it was not safe to be on your own and wondering the streets.<br/>     Alexa kept her eyes constantly moving as a slight wind blew eerily through the condemned buildings and mostly deserted streets. Picking her way over a few more piles of debris and what was left of a few human remains, plotting a course for what looked like a convenience store just a few feet away. She tucked her long locks back under the ball cap she wore and took the dagger from under the back of her shirt, just in case as she entered the non existent front door. Most raiders and loners opted for guns, but not Alexa. She found guns to be too bulky and loud for the most part. She had perfected sneaking up on anyone she needed to with little to no noise and there was no hope for the person she needed to protect herself from. Stepping quietly into the aisle that boasted of band aids and other such items, she moved silently down the aisle, listening carefully for any sign of movement other than her own.</strong><br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Gina looked out at the fading sunlight, and decided she'd pushed it as far as she could. Hefting the small backpack that contained her meager supplies and the day's scroungings, she headed for the door, eager to make it back to her hideaway before full dark. Suddenly she paused. Her danger senses were tingling, and she couldn't figure out why...<br/><br/>It hit her like a hammer blow.<em>Footprints!</em>Gina backed herself towards a corner, away from the aisles of the store.<em>Mine were the only prints here when I came in,</em>she thought, berating herself for her inattention.<em>How did I not hear them?!</em><br/><br/>She pressed herself against the wall, drawing the revolver at her hip and holding it up in front of her in a duelist stance. She strained her senses, but could hear nothing besides the pounding of her heart and her own ragged breathing. The terrified girl considered her options. There was only one set of tracks, which meant that it wasn't a raiding party. Whoever it was, they were alone, like her. Those evened her odds, in the event the person was a threat. When you were a 17-year-old girl, though, most people these days were a threat.<br/><br/>nGina steadied her breathing, the thumbed back the hammer on her revolver, mentally cursing herself the moment she did so. The hammer locked back with a<em><strong>CLI-CLACK</strong></em>that echoed in the silence of the convenience store.