Blinding Justice and A Change Of Plans

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You walked along the makings of a road, kicking up dust as you went. You had left the group a while back, making sure to cover your tracks as you went. Your anger had already cooled, but being in the proximity of those people, they made your blood boil.

You began to cough, what seemed to be a sand storm began to rise, and your vision began to be obscured. You attempted to shield your face, but to no avail. The dirt itself seemed to be made of sharp metal, utting and shredding its way through your shirt. It seemed the dirt was hungry, starving for your flesh and blood, desperate for food.
Yelping from pain, you lifted your jacket over your face in a desperate attempt to shield your eyes.

But as metal pierced cloth, as it did for the skin.

Yelling from pain, you fell to your knees, crying from pain, clamping your hands to your face, and feeling a warm liquid spill from your fingers.

It didn't take a genius to know that you were blinded.

But just as quickly as the storm had appeared, it disapated.
Groaning from the pain, you got uneasily to your feet, your vision obscured. You weren't blind like you thought you were, but you couldn't see anything, just the outlines of colors. You began to stumble forward, stretching your hands outward, to use that as a sense. It never occurred to you how much you relied on sight, how much you had taken it for granted. You wondered if Taker had exited hell with the girls, and if so, if he had even noticed you were gone.

Probably not, You doubted that he would even care, judging by your tantrum. You scoffed, the girls probably wouldn't care, given their violent nature, if anything, Taker would unwittingly bring about the appocalpsye, which you feel would need much more than a shotgun and a chain gun at that.

Something hit your foot, and you grunted. You fell to the ground, smacking your face as you went. You sat up and felt the ground. Slimy stone seemed to be what you were feeling, no different than what you had traversed for miles on end. It was all the same. Nothing was different. However, could you tell any of it apart?

You began to tear up. Any hope you had of going hope had evaporated. Perhaps a part of you knew the whole time that you had little to no success. As you cried, your tears mixed with your blood, making your eyes sting, causing you to cry even more.
Why had you been brought here? By your account, you were sure that you had tried to do good on Earth, at least, you thought.

Maybe that was it. Maybe you were being punished for your hubris, your ego, and your attitude.
Maybe Taker was right about you. Maybe there was no redeeming you.
You sighed and slammed your fist on the ground.
Sure, life sucked. People sucked, but hell wasn't about to give you any breaks. If anything, it just uped the difficulty to ultra nightmare. So, moping wasn't going to get you anywhere. If you were going to fail, you might as well fail on your feet. As much sense as that would make.

You struggled to your feet and stood up. you wiped your hands on your pants and stumbled forwards once more, hoping that you wouldn't fall.

Well, how does one describe a journey when one's vision has been ctrl+alt+deleted? The stumbling, bumbling, tumbling to? Every mistep sorely punished with a fall, a bout of cursing, and a desperate, clawing, attempt to stand upright.

Then you'd do it again, all in that order, and in about five minutes.

So we're going to skip that part.

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After what felt like an hour, which probably was an hour, you slammed into a wall.

"Ow, god damn it!"
After the scrabbling and clawing to stand up right, you grabbed a hold of the wall. Feeling around, you slowly walked until your foot hit something.

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