Chance Encounters (DbD Alternate Universe One Shots)

Mean Street Queens (Part 1 of 2)

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

For the average person, breathing was probably something they never really thought too much about. It was simple. Involuntary. No point in "controlling your breathing" if it is already controlled for you, right?

Meg Thomas was not your average person.

Jogging down the city streets, Meg knew that maintaining proper control over your breathing was the key difference between winning the marathon or burning yourself out before you even get a chance to leave the starting gate. Each breath was deliberate; each stride was well planned. Meg knew if you truly wanted to excel as a runner, you had to turn the involuntary into the voluntary. You had to keep everything in check.

And while Meg was by a lot of people's standard the perfect stereotype of the cool, controlled jogger who meticulously calculated every lungful of air she gasped during a run, there was one thing that Meg knew she couldn't always control. No matter how hard she fought, some days it would just be too much and it would just get the better of her: her emotions.

Today was one of those days.

Turning a corner, Meg found herself going from the sidewalk to a dreary alleyway. Her jog began to slow to a brisk walk, until finally she came to a stop. She closed her eyes as she turned her face up to the sky and took in a deep breath of city air, holding it in her lungs for a few seconds, before finally exhaling. Meg was wearing one of her more urban outfits today. Her ruddy-brown hair was held out of her face by a blue headband, and for a top she was wearing a navy sports bra under a light runner's jacket, unzipped. The dark gray joggers and sneakers she wore insured comfort as well as a bit of style. Her mother had endearingly called it a "bit of a 'mean streets' look!" the first time she saw her wearing it.

Her mother...

Meg's eyes slowly opened as she looked back towards the destination before her. The whole reason she had jogged 45 minutes to the outskirts of the city in the first place. The abandoned factory at the end of the end of the alley looked deeply foreboding against the overcast sky of the city. As Meg began to walk over to it, she couldn't help but feel that general uneasy feeling in her gut. The feeling of trespassing. Being somewhere you don't belong. But Meg had been here before, and she knew those feelings would pass in time. Nobody visited this part of the city anymore, she was probably the only person around within half a mile. And right now, she really just needed this.

The factory was an old steel mill that looked like it had stopped production years before Meg was even born. "HUGH E. BUTRAM & CO." was printed on a rusted tin sign that had fallen off of the front of the factory and was now leaning against the door to the place. Meg reckoned that the factory was about 50% rust and 50% cold concrete. None of that concerned her, though. Meg was too busy looking at the multiple windows that still had unbroken panes of glass in them. Those were her target. That's why she was here.

Bzz! Bzz!

Meg flinched a little bit when she felt her cellphone vibrate in her pocket. She dug her fingers into her pants to fish her phone out and see who it could be.

1 New Message!
Sent: Today, 6:22 p.m.
From: Claud (BFF!)

"im sorry she isnt doing well. :( would you like me to bring over some more herbal tea? i could brew some up right now and be over there within the hour! :) your mom really seemed to like the brew i made last time"

It was a text from her best friend, Claudette, responding to a message that she had sent her earlier. Meg stared at it for a second with her brow furrowed as she tried to think of how to respond. She typed a few words, then deleted them, then started over again, then deleted them again. Finally, Meg let out a frustrated groan as she shoved the phone back in her pocket without responding. She wasn't in the mood to talk.