(2016-05-08) We Have Met the Enemy, and They is Us
We Have Met the Enemy, and They is Us
Summary: Mon finally has a long chat with Sara. Nobody gets shot. Interesting truths are brought out, and one of Mon's kills may, in fact, not be dead.
Date: 2016.05.08
Related: None

So, Sara can drive. She's not the best driver around, but even with her understanding of a vehicle, it means that fuel is needed now and then. So far Sara's found her vehicle stranded outside of town, and so the rogue Kamo Kid has found herself lugging a jerry can on her quest to find anything that will make her transport moving again. At the moment she's currently searching through the Auto Repair shop, creating a little bit of mess as she rummages for small tools and hunts for fuel.

Monica has that odd sensation that she's not alone. She'll file on the muzzle of her soon-to-be punt gun, then stop, and the sounds don't quite stop at the same time. She sets the file down warily and stands, listening. If she'd been running one of the gasoline-fired tools in the building she wouldn't have heard anything. If she'd fired a gun today, she might not either. Maybe she didn't anyway. She goes to the doorway between the machine shop and the repair shop proper. "Is someone there?" She doesn't draw her pistol, but her right hand is right there if she needs it.

Sara stiffens up when she hears a voice from inside of the repair shop, and she places the drum down on the floor. She knows the voice, but isn't certain on how to respond just yet. "I am not going to hurt you," she offers as she calls out softly. "If you promise you are not going to hurt me." Her hand rests on the hilt of her boot knife, but she hasn't withdrawn it yet. "I am only after fuel."

Monica takes a slow breath. Violence comes easy with strangers, with people not-of-the-camp. Especially young people in camouflage. "Sure. Plenty of gas to go around, and it'll be pretty much useless next year. You can use the tools here too, but… please put them back when you're done. Even if they break, I can probably fix them, but some of these things are a bitch to make from scratch.

Sara straightens up, letting her hand fall away from her knife. She purses her lips and looks thoughtful. "Thank you," she offers sincerely, and she does offer a little bow towards the door. "I did not know that anyone was here." She takes a deep breath and hmms softly. "I will try not to break any of the tools. They are hard to find." A moment pauses and she then adds, "You do not have to hide from me. If I was going to harm you, we would not be speaking."

You say, "We'd be shooting. And one of us would probably wind up dead. I'm a little twitchy sometimes, but everyone I've ever shot has tried to hurt me first." She looks away. "Or was a mercy killing. What're you trying to fuel?"

Sara offers a soft laugh, and she makes her way closer towards the door. "Well, either we'd be shooting or in a scuffle," she offers. "One of us would be dead, which is what They want." She purses her lips as Monica's question and tilts her head to the side. "Oh, I guess you would call it a mobile home." She then offers a shrug of her shoulders. "I can understand being twitchy. It is a violent world now."

Monica nods. "Yeah… and not everyone who'd hurt you is one of them, unfortunately." She shakes her head, as though trying to get some memories to fall out. "What is it? Does it run?" Monica is, at heart, a machine-nerd. How other people set out to survive the end of the world, and the tools they made/stole/improvised always interests her.

Sara nods in agreement. "You are right. Not everyone who will hurt you is one of them," she offers with a little frown. "Though everyone has been fooled by them, which makes it worse. I know the truth, so I am not fooled by them." She tilts her head to the side. "It is big. We stole it when we defected. It is like a big… Uh, I do not know how to describe it. It works kind of. It is kind of loud, and the windscreen is hard to see through. Bullets and things."

You say, "So… like a big jeep, or longer, like a truck? Can I see it?" Mon considers. A military deuce-and-a-half would be an awesomely useful piece of equipment to have… assuming Sara's willing to treat it as she treats her own home-on-wheels. "If it doesn't run, I might be able to help.""

"It is like a big jeep," Sara offers to Monica, and she tilts her head to the side. "I do not have it with me here, as it is out of petrol." She looks thoughtful. "Maybe when I have petrol, I might show you." She purses her lips. "If I show it to you, you'll have to vouch for me not being dangerous, so I can hide out. How does that sound?"

You say, "You're sure it runs on pet… um gasoline? And not diesel? Which you'd call kerosine, I think. If it's what I think it is, it will digest any of those, and diesel has more energy for the same volume. When you say we… are there more of you? Ex… well, we'd call you camo-kids. What did they call you?"

Sara just stares at Monica when she talks about fuel, and she offers a little shrug. "I… Do not know," she admits. "I do not know anything about cars." She then offers a shrug. "Oh, my squad. There used to be more like me. They… Died." A soft frown forms on her lips for a few moments. "I did hear news that another squad went rogue and destroyed the command centre." She smiles grimly for a few moments. "They called us Soldiers, said that we were the key to winning the fight against the Teds. Teds. Infested is what we called you."

Monica nods. "Kinda mixed… I mean, if your squad was still active and with them, then it'd be good that they're gone. But they're still your people… I get that. I was out there alone for about a year, just me and my horse and my cart. I don't have to tell you how much that sucks, do I? I came here, they fed me and gave me a place to wash up… and heaven knows I stunk bad enough… I guess my loyalty's pretty cheap." Mon chuckles a little. "I think we'd take you in. There'd be a blood test. Everyone gets that, so it's nothing personal. Make sure you don't have plague, basically. They test for other stuff too, I think. I didn't ask.

"Oh, we'd all decided to leave," Sara admits to Monica. "We wouldn't have lasted as long as we did if it wasn't for us being together so long." She takes a deep breath and then shakes her head. "I imagine it would be very suck." She arches a brow at Monica's comment about being taken in. "Well, maybe. I know things that no one else knows, so I could help fight back." Talk of the plague, she shakes her head. "Oh no. I had it, but strangely they cured me." Her brow furrows at testing and she becomes standoffish. "Do they have a machine that checks you for… Uh, being influenced? It really hurts and they put a microchip in you?"

You say, "I don't know. I've seen medlab. It didn't look like it had anything that sophisticated, but I was in there as a patient, once for a concussion, and once when I got hit in the boobs with the gin pole of a windmill tower, so… I wasn't making a close inspection. Nobody's put a microchip in me, if that's what you're asking."

Sara offers a thoughtful nod of her head. "I… That does sound promising," she comments before frowning again. "Good. They use the microchips to know where you are." She folds her arms across her stomach, and glances off towards the wall and appears deep in thought. "What is a gin pole?" she then asks absently. "You were making illegal alcohol?"

Monica laughs. "Nah. With a short tower, you pull them up vertical by having a pole at a right angle attached to the base. Then you hook up the guy wires on each side, make sure the base stays put, and pull on the gin pole with a winch or a truck or something. The pole swings down, the tower swings up, then you tie the gin pole off at ground level, do up the other two guy wires, and you're done." She gestures with her forearm, with her hand being the top of the tower, her elbow being the base, and her other hand, at her elbow, being the gin pole. "We didn't have the winch lined up quite straight, and it walloped me one.

Sara just kind of stares a bit more at Monica, and she looks uncertain at what she's describing, and just smiles instead. "Oh, you work in farm work?" she asks apologetically, as she offers a polite bow. "I do not understand anything that you said. Before this started, I was worried about finding a good University and getting high grades, and do not understand your gin pole guy wired ways." She then offers a soft smile. "So you used it for leverage. I understand that much."

Monica nods. "Right. Imagine you're a windmill tower. You're completely straight and rigid, and I have to get you from lying on your back to your feet. Now imagine I tie a wire to each of your shoulders to the ground out a bit from your feet to keep you from tipping left or right, and another one that's loose to your back. Then I use your feet as a lever to haul you up so you're standing up, tie your toes to the ground, and tie off the wires to keep you that way. Your toes would be the gin pole, and the wires from each of your arms and your back and front are guy wires. And yeah, I grew up on a farm. We did this crap all the time.

Sara arches a brow, and she shakes her head. "I lived on Victoria Peak, I did not dirty my hands with farming," she admits a little sheepishly. "But I am not going to imagine being a windmill tower. That is just really wierd thing." She then offers a soft laugh. "I would also be a very small windmill." She offers a nod of her head. "I do understand now. So you have done well here with these people? It sounds like you have. "

Monica looks at Sara and nods. "I have. I really have. And if you want to learn something, I'd love to teach you machine shop work and mechanics. There's enough work for half a dozen of me here, and I'd kinda like to have a social life too." She blushes a little. "I kind of met a guy. I dunno, some people have been through all this by the time they're your age. I hung out in the tool shed and made stuff, so… it's my first time around, you know?"

Sara looks thoughful at Monica's offer, and she tilts her head to the side. "Being around people is nice," she offers with a soft smile. "I guess I could hang out here for a little bit. I guess I could teach you now to…" She trails off and she purses her lips. "Well, badly hurt someone with whatever is at hand." She pauses for a moment, and then giggles softly. "That was not meant to be a threat or a warning. It sounded like it." She then purses her lips as Monica blushes. "Oh, you have a crush. Is he handsome?"

Monica nods. "Yeahhh… and it's like… when he touches me, it's like…" Mon shrugs and holds up both hands. "It's like I don't want him to ever stop. And it's not like sex or anything it's just… touching. Holding. Like that. And no, that's cool. I never got formal military training. Just… Civil war re-enactment stuff. Which works, the cowboy action shooting stuff works, but it's no substitute for training.

Sara laughs softly at Monica's explanation. "Oh, you do have a crush. Butterflies and things like that," the Chinese girl teases. "Soon you will have children, because you did not wait." She then offers a shrug of her shoulders. "I would not say military training. I was just trained to be a weapon. Kill, rinse, repeat. The only training I had was working in a florist before I came to this country."

You say, "Kill, rinse, repeat, yeah. I could use better skills in that, probably." She sighs. "most of the tactics I know were current in the 1860s. Before the advent of machineguns you could lift. And no, I'm not having any children soon. I had the plague. It messed me up." She gestures to her face. "Then I starved for a while. I need to not have babies for a couple years, at least. Preferably after we've blown the Others' ship out of the sky.""

Sara moves over to hop up on one of the benches, and she smiles brightly. "That plague was horrible," she comments, as she gives Monica an understanding look. "I think at first, there was a fear that you'd die, then a fear that you wouldn't die." She actually starts to laugh, and it's a good natured laugh. "It is strange. Two plague survivors, formerly on different sides, talking about inane things like that." A quick nod is then offered. "Yes, wait until we kill the Others. Though if Camp Hope captures one, let me know and I might come past."

You say, "What were they like? The others? I mean… you said they were deceiving you and pretending to be… what, regular humans?""

"They were just like regular humans," Sara replies to Monica. "They looked like normal people. One could walk through right now, and neither of us would know at all." She bothers her bottom lip for a moment as she looks thoughtful. "They convinced us that we were doing the right thing. The goggles that we wore, they allowed us to find humans easily and they tricked us, convincing us that you were infected with brain spiders."

You say, "Ew." She thinks about it and nods. "Other than being a pretty old science fiction and video game plot, it's a ghastly thing to think is real about someone." She kicks at the concrete floor of the shop. "They do kind of control us, just… they manipulate our environment, and we respond, you know? Were they… silencers then? I say that like I know what one really is…"

Sara looks a bit vague at the mention of Silencers, and she shrugs. "I do not know what they are," she offers. "I guess they are like the fake humans that didn't show up on the goggles. Or maybe they had a microchip? I never saw any adults training with us, but they always trained us." She offers a nod of her head. "Yes, they control us. The waves have had us fighting over resources, then fighting each other." She offers a little shrug. "Each human we kill, is another victory for them. Be it your people killing a Kamo Kid, or one of mine killing a Ted."

You say, "Which makes you wonder why they're trying to do the job so… half-assed? I mean, they've already proven they can make diseases that wipe us out. A few more of those and there wouldn't be enough of us left to matter to anyone. Unless we're now too far apart for epidemics to really happen.""

Sara slowly shakes her head. "At first it was effective and efficient," Sara replies to Monica, as she gives her a curious look. "The reason that they are not being so successful at the moment, is that their command centre was destroyed." She offers a wink when she offers that. "I did say I knew things, and I know that it was blown up. I guess they did not expect it to happen."

Monica ponders that. "Interesting." She looks skyward. "So the ship isn't as strategically useful as it would seem to be. That's very interesting. I need to pick your brain about this for a while at some point. Meantime, let's go take a look at your home and see what needs to be done with it. If it's just fuel, you can bring it in closer and park it, otherwise… we'll see what can be done.

Sara offers a shrug of her shoulders, and hmms softly as she follows Monica's gaze. "I do not know," she comments. "I think the best way would be to find where the Americans kept their nuclear missiles and fire one of them at the ship." She tilts her head to the side. "If it blows up, then we get an impressive light show. If it doesn't blow up, we still have an impressive light show." Talk of her vehicle makes her purse her lips. "Oh, it is a very long walk, and I need to clean it out a little bit. Very messy."

Monica cocks her head. "Sara, do you trust me?"

Sara regards Monica, and she hmms softly. "I… Am not certain," she comments. "When we first met, your friend was posturing. I know she was being cautious though." She then hmms softly. "I have a lot of memories in there. We have only just met, but I do not think you would be a danger to me. Especially at this range."

You say, "My friend? Terry?"

Sara shakes her head to Monica's question. "No, not Terry. The woman with the arrows," she then corrects. "It was Terry who introduced us, and I met Terry when I ran into Teague." She hmms softly. "I cannot remember her name."

You say, "Ohhh. She's Fiona. She seemed a lot less likely to shoot you than I was, to be honest. Terry's like family to me. He found me when I was camped out by the reservoir. Without him, I'd have probably starved by now. Or run into the perimeter the next day, maybe, but who knows? I lost at least one of my brothers in the waves, and probably all of them. Terry fits in the big-brother shaped hole in my life. So I tend to regard potential threats… harshly."

Sara tilts her head to the side and she offers a nod. "Fiona," she repeats. "That is the name," she comments. "I have only met her once. I understand that people would be jumpy about me." She tilts her head to the side. "I am sorry to hear that you lost your brother." She falls silent for a few moments and she takes a deep breath. "You know, if it wasn't for Terry voice, I most likely would have kept on going past."

Monica nods. She smirks and cocks her head a little. "Y'know, that sounds a little like a crush to me…"

Sara wrinkles her nose, and shakes her head. "Oh no, I was looking for Camp Hope," she comments with a soft laugh. "It's kind of a complicated relationship I have had with them. My squad attacked them once as part of an organized effort, and drove them off. Organized, and it was his voice I recall hearing after we stopped killing silently." She shakes her head. "We actually reached a friendly conclusion and no one got killed with this meeting."

Monica 's smile fades. "You were the squad that drove them out of Nebraska?"

Sara frowns softly, and she nods. "We did drive them off," she comments. "We thought we'd won a major victory against the Others. We didn't know the truth at the time." Her shoulders slump, and she slowly slides off the bench. "Imagine seeing it from my side, and how confusing this is."

Monica nods and looks away. "Yeah… same here. I went there first. And I shot someone from your squad, probably.

Sara regards Monica coldly for a few moments, before she offers a soft sneer. Her hand shifts down towards her ankle where her knife is kept. She rests her hand on it for a moment, and then she starts to laugh soft and she sits up straight again, leaving her knife behind. "Well, I got shot by someone there, so that could have been me that you shot. Then again, it could have been a few people who you shot," she admits. "Being shot is really not fun." She pulls aside the top of her BDU jacket, being careful to remain modest so she can show her scarred shoulder.

You say, "Weird minneaball slug?" She gets into her pouch and fishes one out. It looks like a bullet, only the back end has rings cast into it and it's hollow at the base. It's a bit bigger than half an inch across. "Like this?""

Sara offers a shrug of her shoulders, and she shakes her head. "I do not know," she comments as she wrinkles her nose. "It hurt though and the Doctors dug it out of me," she admits. "It could have been a pea for all I know." She shakes her head. "I have no idea." She slowly slips off the bench again. "I should go. I am getting into one of my moods, and… Well, you seem nice and I don't want to hurt you." She offers a small smile and makes her way towards the door again.

Monica looks away. "I hope it was you. To be honest. It would mean I didn't murder some other kid who… could have turned away from them. That's been killing me since I met you. I didn't realize you guys… started out as us… and could go back.

Sara has a hint of a cruel look when she looks over her shoulder towards Monica. "Oh, hope it wasn't me," she comments with a wink. "Oh, and we never changed. We were always human. We never were anything else. We were just broken down and rebuilt to do their work. Did you know they burn bodies to power their bases? Heaps of bodies. Recruits get collection details." With that offered, the young Chinese girl offers a wave of her hand as she makes her way back towards the door, taking a few things she was 'borrowing' with her.

You say, "Please bring those back when you're done with them. And my torch, if you're the one who took it out of my apartment.""

"I haven't been to your apartment," Sara offers to Monica, as she calls back.

You say, "Okay. Then someone else has. That's… concerning."

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