...sadly, I still consider this a good day.

~Allison

[Wednesday, May 11, 2163 - 02:19]

[Burundi > Somewhere above a forest]

Allison trembled. From her fingertips to her knees and toes, she could not hold herself still. She shook as she was strapped into the seat. Her pulse pounded as she looked at her bullet-hole-ridden truck, sitting on three flat tires and steaming lightly from its hood. She jittered even as she was handcuffed.

It was understandable. The previous few hours would be a bit much for anyone who generally tried their damndest to avoid the coworkers they lived with. Her day, and particularly night, was too reckless, too adrenaline-filled, and too new people-y for her to cope with. In a word, she was overstimulated, and no amount of being strapped into a chair or being handcuffed was going to fix that.

Her feelings were a heavily blended cocktail of fear, excitement, anger, pride, joy, and hope, in no particular order. She'd never experienced such an onslaught of emotions before, and even she was surprised at her utter inability to keep still.

"You alright? The handcuffs aren't too tight, are they?" 

The voice brought Allison back to reality. She felt the press of gravity as their aircraft ascended, straight up. It felt like an elevator that didn't care about which floor you wanted to ascend to. She could feel and hear the rumble of the aircraft's guns outside, and hear the dull impacts of her former colleagues' side arms uselessly pinging against the side of the plane.

"...We'll make it out, right?" She looked up at the woman who'd just restrained her, concern evident in her voice. The rumble of guns stopped shortly after her question.

The woman looked put on a large pair of glasses and stared through them. She nodded seconds later, "Yeah, we're fine. More than I can say for your coworkers though."

Allison stopped trembling, now frozen with the realization of what those words implied. Any avenue for return had been utterly and completely annihilated. She could only go with her captors, not that there was much choice.

"Thorne?" The woman standing over her called her by her last name, one again snapping her back to reality yet again. "You alright? I'm not talking about the handcuffs this time."

Allison slowly looked up and the expression on her captor's face grew concerned and watched as the woman pointed her left hand in her direction. Allison wouldn't normally think twice about this action, but with the woman in question, it was now extremely intimidating. The woman smirked and Allion felt a sharp pain in her shoulder before her consciousness faded to darkness. 

[Tuesday, May 10, 2163 - 22:42]

[Burundi > Transactiance Outpost 3 > Motor Pool]

Allison muttered and cursed under her breath as she hopped into the driver's seat of her truck. The truck, one of the few things she could count on, had more than its fair share of problems, which could be said of all of her colleagues, as a generous understatement.

As the door creaked closed and sat in the torn seat, she turned her view across the cracked windshield, to the dangling rearview mirror. She leaned over to adjust her side mirror, which is to say, to reapply the ducktape that was holding it to the rest of the vehicle. She finished her 'maintenance' and adjusted her rear in the seat. There was a spring sticking out and it made the entire experience of sitting a rather unpleasant one. Once relatively comfortable, she turned the antiquated key in the ignition. Every other vehicle in the motor pool was clean, environmentally friendly, and most importantly: legal.

Several decades prior, the consumption of fossil fuels for motor vehicles, including aircraft, had been made illegal around the world, not that there was much remaining. Her days of driving this particular vehicle, of having a vehicle and the freedom that came with it, were numbered. She shuddered to think of the not-so-distant future when the last barrel of gasoline stored in the back would go empty. She then glanced at the fuel tank.

"Damn, just about empty." She turned off the truck, grabbed the fuel pump from the back, and attached it to the barrel. To her surprise, the barrel ran dry within moments, leaving her with an empty barrel. She removed it from the bed of her small delivery-style truck and jumped back into the cab, heading to the only shop in the area that wouldn't report her vehicle. The reason why was a story she chuckled to recall, but also the reason that she was stuck with her current set of wheels.

She once again started the engine and grimaced. "It's hardly above the warning line! Fucking fuck!" She slammed her fits on the steering wheel in anger, honking the horn in the process. It sounded weak and dying, which was also new. She could figure out who was messing with her and her truck later. It was running and fuel was scarce. "C'mon Miro, don't fail me now." She turned on the headlights, noting that half of her view was dark. She sighed inwardly and put the truck in gear, lurching forward and eventually out of the motor pool, starting the 25-minute drive to her only viable convenience store in the area, to a building that felt like it was an assembled puzzle that happened to be filled with food and drinks.

As soon as she was out of sight of the base, she checked that her radio was not recording her, as someone had previously set it to do. She'd been singing that day, and it was transmitted back to base and broadcast across it. She was lucky it was a song that both knew well and could sing equally well, but she had difficulty showing her face in the following weeks.

Fortunately, or otherwise, her radio was completely dead, non-functional in fact. She couldn't be broadcast across the base but couldn't ask for help after a certain point. Cellular reception was available only on a specific route towards the base, and she was going in exactly the opposite direction. As expected, she lost cellular reception not long after leaving the base, driving on what was soon to be hope and fumes. 

[Tuesday, May 10, 2163 - 23:19]

[Burundi > "Puzzle Box" - Convenience Store in the middle of nowhere]

Allison's truck sputtered into the parking lot. It was actually a fuel station as well, but not for fossil fuels. She exited the vehicle and trudged into the shop. The attendant, who was clearly bored out of his wits, glanced up. "Oh? What brings you here?"

Allison shrugged "Fumes and the fact that my dinner, the supposed last of the food for the day, got knocked out of my hands, onto the floor, and 'accidentally' stepped on by three people. So, whatcha got to eat?"

The attendant shrugged. "I wasn't expecting you until Thursday. The best I can do on this notice is... a half-eaten tuna sandwich." He motioned to a plate on the counter as he churlishly wiped the mayonnaise around his mouth off with his sleeve.

Allison raised an eyebrow, "Good one. Can't say I expected that. I don't like tuna, but it's better than what I was served."

The attendant gulped, undoubtedly wondering what could be so bad that she would jump at his half-eaten sandwich. He walked to a cabinet and pulled out a sealed plastic package. He then grabbed a bottle of room-temperature water and tore the package open, pouring the water inside. He dug under the counter for a spork. "I got an MRE. Will that work?"

"I knew I could count on you!" She flung her arms around the man over the counter in what was certainly a physically uncomfortable hug, though he didn't complain. She was one of only four customers anyway. He was still trying to figure out who it really was keeping the lights on and would take any human interaction he could get.

Allison glanced at him, "Wait, why do you have military rations? Who pays you anyway? And what for? I mean, no offense, but you don't really have shit to do most of the time."

He shrugged, "I'm actually paid pretty well, but as a bartender of all things. I don't have customers, and this place doesn't even have a bar, even if it's well-stocked on booze. As for the rations, they bring me a pack or two with every resupply. They stay good for years, so there's no point in throwing them out. Easy food when I don't feel like doing anything. Anyway, want me to whip up a nice drink for you?"

"Aww man, don't do that to me. You know damn well I drove here. My ride doesn't even have cruise control, let alone autopilot."

"Ooof, that's rough. I'd drive you home, but I don't exactly have a car myself. I just shoot an email whenever I need to leave and a helicopter shows up a few minutes later. It's kinda nuts honestly."

"What are you, some sort of VIP?! I'm still trying to figure out how I'll make it home. I barely made it here."

"Oh, right!" He ran back into what seemed to be a storage room and returned moments later carrying three fuel cans. "Take 'em. I could get in trouble for just having the things."

Allison's eyes widened. "Where the hell did you get those?!"

"Someone named Crystal brought them by two days ago. She said some assholes were trying to siphon a tank and figured it best to collect it. She brought it here and said that someone would come along that needed it. Couldn't have been anyone other than you, so I kept it. Just having this crap is illegal, but take it."  

"You sure?"

"It's illegal for me to have, illegal for me to sell, and you're the only person who has a use for it. I don't want it. Get it out of here."

Allison graciously took the containers and went out to fill her truck while the chemistry that was an MRE turned water and the package contents into food. She returned inside, washed her hands, took the spork, and began greedily devouring her late dinner.

She burped and looked up at the attendant "Thanks Max", and flashed him a radiant smile before turning on her heels.

Now that she and her beloved truck had more fuel in their tanks, she was able to return to base. She climbed into the cab and closed the door. She heard a dull thud against the door. The driver's side rearview mirror had mostly fallen off and was dangling uselessly. She removed it, threw it in the back, and began the return trip.

In the near-total darkness, with her singular headlight bobbing with the bumps, she was able to see all of the stars in the sky and a strangely moving area that seemed to block some of them momentarily. She knew something was odd about it, but it wasn't as if she could notify anyone anyway.

[Wednesday, May 11, 2163 - 01:32]

[Burundi > Transactiance Outpost 3 > Detention Block 2]

Allison pulled into her designated parking space, which was conveniently located near the entrance of the motor pool, and inconveniently located exactly opposite to any place she would need to leave from. She crossed the parking lot, looking at the other immaculately kept vehicles once more, before coming to a heavy leaden door.

Fishing in her belt pouch, she pulled out a large, heavy, antiquated key ring and opened the door to the second detention block, the place where her 'room' was. The place she begrudgingly referred to as 'home'.

Once she stepped inside, her nose wrinkled as she breathed in the damp-musty air. It was the sort of scent that was present in closed spaces with stale water. It was definately bad for one's health, but she still considered it a side grade to her previous conditions. Here she wouldn't be woken up randomly throughout the night and asked to do mundane things. She wouldn't be catcalled in jest, She wouldn't feel as though she was being stared at like some sort of zoo animal.

She flipped the heavy light switch and waited a moment for the fluorescent lighting, yet another antiquity, to warm up. She waited about twenty seconds for the room to be bathed in inorganic cold light before making sure the door was locked behind her and proceeding to her room.

She'd requested a transfer of accommodations to no longer be bothered by hostile coworkers, and it was granted rather swiftly, much to her short-lived delight. The trade-off was that she'd gone from feeling like a zoo animal to more-or-less living like one. Her 'room' was three modified cells with a beige tarp draped over the bars. Her bed was a small, uncomfortable twin bed, and she had a vanity desk, of which all but 2 of its 10 lights did not work. She threw herself on her bed and looked across the cell at the cracked vanity mirror.

She stared into her green eyes and shook her shoulder-length disheveled auburn hair before proceeding to have an adult-sized fit in a child-sized bed.

"Ugh! This is bullshit! Everything about this job is shit! It was all fucking lies! I can't even brag about how cool it is! It's not cool, and I'm contractually obligated to not say any-fucking-thing! The pay is shit, the room is shit, the food is shit! This is not winning at life! This is the opposite of winning at... Oooof"

She'd unceremoniously fallen off her bed, little surprise when a fully grown woman does a barrel roll in a twin-sized bed. She began to pick herself up off the floor and paused, hearing a familiar sound. It was the sound of a key being inserted into an aged and rusted lock, specifically, the lock to the second detention block. She hastily finished her ascension to a mostly standing position and held her breath as the heavy door groaned open, and her lard-ass of a coworker, Paul, groaned with it.

"You've got guests! Hope you're decent!" Paul's heavy trudged footsteps echoed along with what sounded like two sets of others. The sound of a cell door being closed and locked, followed by footsteps and a repeat of those sounds, confirmed as much.

Allison silently turned to the mirror and attempted to fix her hair, though it wasn't as if she needed to impress a prisoner, much less anyone who'd gotten themselves captured in a location as remote as this one.

Paul shuffled past her cell and the clatter of objects being dropped by her door met her eats. He then ambled out, groaning once again with the heavy door, Allison waited with bated breath and the voice of an angry woman echoed through the room, "Nice job, jackass!"

From, a short distance away, a male voice replied " Alright, my bad." It was entirely too nonchalant for a person who'd just been incarcerated.

The woman continued, "Why were we even given this mission? Why did Michelle even approve it?!"

"She works in mysterious ways," The man replied as if it somehow didn't concern him. Then there was silence. Allison held her breath once again. She couldn't see through the tarp, but she swore she could still feel their gazes upon her as if they had x-ray vision.

As if to confirm her suspicions, The man added to his statement, "So, who do you think lives behind the tarp?"

The woman incredulously answered, "Why would you think anyone lives down here? Why would anyone be subjected to that? This is literally a prison!"

The man, still as unconcerned as ever, replied "Actually, I think it's more of a dungeon." Allison swore that statement was accompanied by a shrug. Once again, their dialogue continued as if answering her unspoken thoughts. 

"Don't just shrug that off, Jesse. You should apologize to whoever you just insulted by suggesting that they live here."

Allison's mouth dropped open, and she could no longer stand being the subject of the conversation, yet uninvolved in it, even though she was very much present. She sighed inwardly, and as cooly, or as least awkwardly as possible, leaned against the open door of her cell/room.

She looked at the woman. Blue eyes filled with resolve and indignation, brunette hair tied up in a bun, and fair complexion. Attractive, would be the first word Allison would use to describe her appearance. Allison spoke to her first, "No need to apologize. He's absolutely right. I do live here. Name's Thorne. Not giving you any more names than that. I suspect you'll be here for a while, or until the boys upstairs decide they want some sport."

The imprisoned woman looked over at her partner, seemingly having a wordless conversation before the man frowned in displeasure. He then turned and spoke "Owens, and... oh, well, Jesse Owens, since I've already been name-dropped. My sulking partner over there is..."

The sulking partner cut him off, "Emilia, Emilia Jenoval. I'd say it's a pleasure, but we're not happy to be here and I suspect you aren't either."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "You're damn right. This place sucks. I'll try not to get too attached, cuz I doubt you'll be here long, but I have 1 question that I just gotta ask."

Both Jesse and Emilia responded with glances that urged her to continue, each knowing that they currently had nothing better to do.

Allison continued, "...so, exactly how did you end up captured in this dump?"

Emilia sighed, "It's a story so fucking dumb that I wish I was making it up."