God's Revolver

boredom and idiocy

a/n: hi alyssa, i know you're reading this lmao

Btw this chapter was written partially at school so enjoy the not swears

3rd person

"Falafel, it's raining. We can't make it back to them until it stops," Kobra said. "What do we do?"

Jet shrugged. "Take a rest. They don't have a car, so they aren't going anywhere, so we can just have some time to rest and heal."

"Fair enough," Kobra sighed.

The house we were in had only one room, with a shelf full of (mostly empty) cans and the floor was littered with dead batteries and even more empty cans. 

"Okay, I'm bored, what do we do now?" Kobra asked.

Jet gave him a look. "What did you read in that book we found?" 

"Not much, it was some journal by some guy who was a test subject for Sterelax, which was Better Living's first way of getting into our systems," Kobra remarked. 

How dense was this fuck? "Not much? There was a reason that that journal survived this long. That book could hold onto the secrets of how we can end BLInd!" Jet exclaimed. "I can't read, and I figured that out."

"Well, damn. We have to find the book, then, after it stops pissing it down," I say. 

---

As soon as the rain cleared up, we walked out of the building to stretch our legs. Kobra pulled out the map. "Lemme get a look at that." I said, and Kobra gave me a confused look.

"Oh, wait, I can't read."

"So what direction are we going?" I asked.

Kobra pointed east. "The car should be in that direction, like I said. Our bags might still be in there, along with the book. Unless the others- or somebody else- already took our things."

"Alrighty then, let's go!" I said, turning to leave, but Kobra grabbed onto the back of my jacket to prevent me from going.

"We should eat first," he said.

"Oh, yeah." We walked back inside the building and I grabbed a can for me and one for Kobra.

"The falafel is a beefaroni?" Kobra asked rhetorically as he opened the can.

I look at the can's contents. It looks relatively edible, and I grab a few plastic forks for the both of us. "Here. We can't eat beefaroni without forks." I throw the fork at Kobra and he catches it and takes off the plastic wrapping.

"Damn, this actually doesn't taste that bad," he says.

When we finish the beefaroni, we get going.

It takes a long time, but we make it to the car.

There's someone else there.

Three someones, to be exact.