[Gen.SBlade [Using the 'implant' in the back of her head to send messages seems out of a bad scifi movie plot, but it's all she has at the moment until she can get a better reading on this place.] This is General Sonya Blade. I know that doesn't mean much, if anything to anyone, but right now my tolerance for bullshit has reached red level readings.
[For all she's trying to keep her voice and expression modulated, it's clear she's just several seconds away from verbally lashing out.]Is this sort of thing a regular occurrence? People..strangers..waking up in vans, medically operated on and then dropped off like this? Why and for what purpose?
Also, is there really no way of outside communication? Hell, I'll take sorcery if it means I can contact my home realm.[She had only just started patching things up with Cassie and Johnny, why the hell was this thrown on her now.
Resolution day
Day one into her time being stuck here, she had to get out of the Safehouse if she wasn't going to loose her mind either. The festival also offered the chance to speak with those who'd been here longer; if she wanted a good idea about this place, she'd put more stock into them than into any sort of 'organization' or propaganda.
She kept by the outskirts of the crowd, not trusting herself to react if someone accidentally brushed against her. The way she was feeling, any poor sucker that tried would end up with a black eye or worse.
By chance she happened across one of the food trucks, the smell actually making her a little hungry. Stress and being lost in a new place had killed her appetite the previous day, and she could almost say she was willing to try what was on offered. Hell, if everyone was eating it, it had to be safe.
She did take a closer look at the signs of what was being offered. "Is there anything that's not fried or have bugs as an ingredient?"
Years of her mother's cooking and military issued chow gave her a stomach of iron, but after dealing with D'vorah, she had to draw the line somewhere.
Monster attack
The advantage of being a light sleeper (when she actually got sleep, atleast) was that it took very little to wake her up. As such, she all but jumps out of bed when the earthquake hits. Then there's the sirens, and that was all it took for Sonya to throw some shoes on and run out to find what the hell was going on.
A look from a passing window had her change direction. That she was unarmed, without back up or even a plan didn't matter. She hadn't survived this long in the army by going completely by the book (something her daughter clearly inherited), and like hell was she going to hide in a shelter when others were risking their lives.
Half hour later would find her fighting off demon-dogs with a large crowbar pilfered from a hardware store. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. "Behind you!"
That was as much a warning she could give before sending the hooked end of the bar into the skull of a mutant dog.
Wildcard Have a different prompt idea? Hit me up on on plurk @ Rschwartz501, or PP this journal. Will match format.
Sonya Blade | mortal kombat X
[Gen.SBlade
[Using the 'implant' in the back of her head to send messages seems out of a bad scifi movie plot, but it's all she has at the moment until she can get a better reading on this place.]
This is General Sonya Blade. I know that doesn't mean much, if anything to anyone, but right now my tolerance for bullshit has reached red level readings.
[For all she's trying to keep her voice and expression modulated, it's clear she's just several seconds away from verbally lashing out.] Is this sort of thing a regular occurrence? People..strangers..waking up in vans, medically operated on and then dropped off like this? Why and for what purpose?
Also, is there really no way of outside communication? Hell, I'll take sorcery if it means I can contact my home realm.[She had only just started patching things up with Cassie and Johnny, why the hell was this thrown on her now.
Resolution day
Day one into her time being stuck here, she had to get out of the Safehouse if she wasn't going to loose her mind either. The festival also offered the chance to speak with those who'd been here longer; if she wanted a good idea about this place, she'd put more stock into them than into any sort of 'organization' or propaganda.
She kept by the outskirts of the crowd, not trusting herself to react if someone accidentally brushed against her. The way she was feeling, any poor sucker that tried would end up with a black eye or worse.
By chance she happened across one of the food trucks, the smell actually making her a little hungry. Stress and being lost in a new place had killed her appetite the previous day, and she could almost say she was willing to try what was on offered. Hell, if everyone was eating it, it had to be safe.
She did take a closer look at the signs of what was being offered. "Is there anything that's not fried or have bugs as an ingredient?"
Years of her mother's cooking and military issued chow gave her a stomach of iron, but after dealing with D'vorah, she had to draw the line somewhere.
Monster attack
The advantage of being a light sleeper (when she actually got sleep, atleast) was that it took very little to wake her up. As such, she all but jumps out of bed when the earthquake hits. Then there's the sirens, and that was all it took for Sonya to throw some shoes on and run out to find what the hell was going on.
A look from a passing window had her change direction. That she was unarmed, without back up or even a plan didn't matter. She hadn't survived this long in the army by going completely by the book (something her daughter clearly inherited), and like hell was she going to hide in a shelter when others were risking their lives.
Half hour later would find her fighting off demon-dogs with a large crowbar pilfered from a hardware store. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. "Behind you!"
That was as much a warning she could give before sending the hooked end of the bar into the skull of a mutant dog.
Wildcard
Have a different prompt idea? Hit me up on on plurk @ Rschwartz501, or PP this journal. Will match format.