Post by Annalise Thergo on Apr 14, 2020 19:00:45 GMT -5
Response to 9'o Clock News:
Annalise sat at a bar, cold beer in hand, and eyed the television perched just high enough to require her to tilt her head back. It had been a long day at another construction site. The agenda for the rest of the day was to enjoy the beer, have dinner, go to the local gym to shower off, do laundry, and repeat the cycle the next day. It wasn’t much of a life in comparison to prior familiarities, but it was a start in acclimating to society. She took another long drink, smacked her lips, and put the cup on the cardboard coaster the bartender gave her. Dinner tonight was chicken and vegetables.
On the television, they were updating viewers on the recent massacre. Annalise had, truthfully, not been paying much attention to the incident, or most conflicts for that matter. What happened, happened. It was tragic; but what could she do about it now? She tuned out conversations coming through the speakers and raised the glass for the next sip, but the feed shifted so abruptly, it got her attention. It was so profound, the music in the bar lowered just as, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” started playing. Annalise rose from the stool and squinted. This was not normal.
She did not recognize all of the material. The video was shaky and blurry, and it was difficult to make it out at first. Then, she saw the monster. Annalise’s blood ran cold, and she gripped the glass tight, almost enough to strain it. Her thoughts threw back years ago to that time at the lab in the mountains where she, Faust, and Ranka barely escaped with their lives from something created by the “Dead Sight Program.” It was horrible, the stuff of nightmares, and she left with more than physical scarring that night. Annalise drew in a deep breath, held it, repeated the process, and found her center, at least for now. The last thing she needed to do was let a panic attack go public.
The scene cut to different footage that was gruesome and bloody. People were being slaughtered left and right, unable to fight back, and Annalise heard distressed sounds all around the bar. Some were calmly watching, their visages challenging to read. It was strange to realize that these sights were unusual to many people, and to some degree, Annalise envied them.
A voice talked about how “they” had been there since this started. “But when we were once labeled as heroes, we’re not terrorists.” B.O.W.s. They were talking about B.O.W.s. Annalise slumped in her seat and watched the rest of the videos play out the various scenarios from the past. It was true. Faust, despite his past questionable choices, was one of many altered people who helped take down Umbrella, and thus saving many lives. Annalise did her part, but in comparison to Faust, it was minuscule. If Faust were here now, he would have been treated with disdain and be on the run anew. At this, Annalise glared at the television.
She had forgotten about her beer at this point, and the kitchen was on pause to watch this.
An image of Harker appeared on the screen after recordings showed the recent destruction she heard about in passing at the construction site. It occurred to her just how out of touch she was with past events, a habit she unintentionally picked up due to her previous nomadic lifestyle outside of cell service and away from televisions. Harker’s picture morphed to a face she did not recognize, but it certainly raised the question of who he was really. Annalise hummed under her breath and sat back down in the bar stool. Names scrolled up on the television. It occurred to her that something like that would only happen if people died, and there were many listed off…
Damn.
Himura. That sounded familiar...
The transmission ended, and the news crew claimed this was just a prank after they gathered themselves. At this, Annalise raised a brow in disbelief.
Right. Sure. Hackers or pranksters would spend such profound energy showing that kind of material to the world just to mess with everyone. No, people did that to make sure word got out about something that was being lied about or to make sure their point got across, and whoever executed this plan did a flawless job of it. Conversations erupted around her. Some wanted to deny what they saw, others sat in stunned silence, and the rest carried on like it was nothing.
“Waiter?” Annalise called out once she returned to her, “I’ll take my order to go, please.”
Annalise sat at a bar, cold beer in hand, and eyed the television perched just high enough to require her to tilt her head back. It had been a long day at another construction site. The agenda for the rest of the day was to enjoy the beer, have dinner, go to the local gym to shower off, do laundry, and repeat the cycle the next day. It wasn’t much of a life in comparison to prior familiarities, but it was a start in acclimating to society. She took another long drink, smacked her lips, and put the cup on the cardboard coaster the bartender gave her. Dinner tonight was chicken and vegetables.
On the television, they were updating viewers on the recent massacre. Annalise had, truthfully, not been paying much attention to the incident, or most conflicts for that matter. What happened, happened. It was tragic; but what could she do about it now? She tuned out conversations coming through the speakers and raised the glass for the next sip, but the feed shifted so abruptly, it got her attention. It was so profound, the music in the bar lowered just as, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” started playing. Annalise rose from the stool and squinted. This was not normal.
She did not recognize all of the material. The video was shaky and blurry, and it was difficult to make it out at first. Then, she saw the monster. Annalise’s blood ran cold, and she gripped the glass tight, almost enough to strain it. Her thoughts threw back years ago to that time at the lab in the mountains where she, Faust, and Ranka barely escaped with their lives from something created by the “Dead Sight Program.” It was horrible, the stuff of nightmares, and she left with more than physical scarring that night. Annalise drew in a deep breath, held it, repeated the process, and found her center, at least for now. The last thing she needed to do was let a panic attack go public.
The scene cut to different footage that was gruesome and bloody. People were being slaughtered left and right, unable to fight back, and Annalise heard distressed sounds all around the bar. Some were calmly watching, their visages challenging to read. It was strange to realize that these sights were unusual to many people, and to some degree, Annalise envied them.
A voice talked about how “they” had been there since this started. “But when we were once labeled as heroes, we’re not terrorists.” B.O.W.s. They were talking about B.O.W.s. Annalise slumped in her seat and watched the rest of the videos play out the various scenarios from the past. It was true. Faust, despite his past questionable choices, was one of many altered people who helped take down Umbrella, and thus saving many lives. Annalise did her part, but in comparison to Faust, it was minuscule. If Faust were here now, he would have been treated with disdain and be on the run anew. At this, Annalise glared at the television.
She had forgotten about her beer at this point, and the kitchen was on pause to watch this.
An image of Harker appeared on the screen after recordings showed the recent destruction she heard about in passing at the construction site. It occurred to her just how out of touch she was with past events, a habit she unintentionally picked up due to her previous nomadic lifestyle outside of cell service and away from televisions. Harker’s picture morphed to a face she did not recognize, but it certainly raised the question of who he was really. Annalise hummed under her breath and sat back down in the bar stool. Names scrolled up on the television. It occurred to her that something like that would only happen if people died, and there were many listed off…
Damn.
Himura. That sounded familiar...
The transmission ended, and the news crew claimed this was just a prank after they gathered themselves. At this, Annalise raised a brow in disbelief.
Right. Sure. Hackers or pranksters would spend such profound energy showing that kind of material to the world just to mess with everyone. No, people did that to make sure word got out about something that was being lied about or to make sure their point got across, and whoever executed this plan did a flawless job of it. Conversations erupted around her. Some wanted to deny what they saw, others sat in stunned silence, and the rest carried on like it was nothing.
“Waiter?” Annalise called out once she returned to her, “I’ll take my order to go, please.”
