Ignite

Fifty-six || I Suggest We Stop Trying to Find Our Future Murderers

Hey guys, what's up?

Okay so three things: one, I think you'll like this chapter, two, I think you'll hate this chapter, and three, I didn't like the way Coal turned out in that fetus drawing of Code so here he is with my mess of notes. I'm still struggling with the whole proportions thing but at least this is more accurate. Also his skin should be a tad darker but I suck at shading with pencil and smudging and crap so yeah. Honestly a week from now I'm going to hate this drawing too but whatever. Here you go, it's my art vomit.

Anyway, that lovely analogy aside, dedication goes to moonwalker465 because they wrote this wicked fanfiction/comment thing and I enjoyed it so yeah. Kudos bro.

ALRIGHT GUYS I HAVE A STORY because something mildy interesting/amusing happened to me for once anyway here we go okay so I've been binge watching the X-Files for the past week or two, and a couple days ago I was walking my dog with my friend, and it was dark out. My dog starts barking at something in these creepy woods on the sides of this park after we hear this weird noise. And I'm all ready, you know, like "Dude, let's go." and my friend says, "You idiot this is why people die in horror movies." and (completely ignoring him) I start walking into the woods saying, "I blame 80% of my recklessness on Fox Mulder." and my friend is following me griping that "Agent Mulder can go to hell" and that "if I die the gene pool of America will be infinitely smarter" (this is the friend who compared his existence to the Grinch) and he's whining and groaning so I scream and fall to the ground. So he freaks out, calling my name and tripping around to find me cause sometimes he forgets to put his contacts in but won't wear his glasses. And I'm on the ground, trying not to giggle, and then he trips over me and falls on his face and my dog is licking the mud off and he's just sitting there telling me that I suck and he hates me and he'd be glad if a demon ate me. We have a very healthy relationship, I promise you.

Anyway, that's it. Hope you have a nice existence and enjoy the chapter!

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The good news is that it's not Izila.

The bad news is that they still have guns and are still trying to kill us.

"Wait," I whisper to Coal, holding a hand out to stop him as he pushes out the door. "They don't know we're here."

Coal's expression flickers to rebellion before he resigns and looks to me for the next move.

The scene before me isn't new. Same game, different players. I assess my surroundings, finding my advantages and weaknesses.

Caelum is on the ground, clutching his shoulder as blood seeps through his fingers, expression about a minute away from fainting. Weakness.

Charlotte is in front of him, chest heaving with the rush of adrenaline. She doesn't appear to be harmed, just mad as hell. Advantage.

The threat is not Izila, as I had barely been able to note before I did a head count. Now I give our attackers more scrutiny.

It's a gang of two women and one man, all armed. Their clothes are sooty, turtlenecks and fingerless gloves under jackets. Two carry packs, the woman with the bare back holding the smoking gun. Their faces are shifty eyes and tough metal, hardened by the pounds of a hammer. There's an odd symbol on the right side of their jackets, two triangles positioned like an hourglass, but with a dot in the upper triangle and two in the lower.

Coal leaves my side for a second before returning, stuffing something in his jacket. He ignores my questioning glance, or perhaps is just oblivious as he chews his lip, whispering, "You have a plan, right?"