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SatansNightOut

Marion's Wall

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SatansNightOut    105

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[mp3]http://puu.sh/gabMc/a454178e55.mp3[/mp3]

You know, when I hopped into the ankle-deep water, it was almost the same as when I'd come to Chernarus in 2009 to photograph the uprising. The air was cold and misty, with a deep fog hazing the hills and forests off to the north. When I crunched my boots through the wet sand, the scent of beach and pine both came to me at the same time. Gentle waves soaked the beach---and a scattered group of men rushed towards me in a frantic gathering, their attention focused on the new arrival.

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Yep, almost the same as 2009.

Except...this time, instead of the focused, coherent squad of militants that had flitted across the beach to surround me six years ago, it was an unfocused, incoherent squad of non-militant Infected civilians that decided to make a midday snack of yours truly.

Oh, Marion Embers, by the way.

Hello.

I'll be your photographer today. And story-teller, apparently. Though, I don't usually write articles... I take the pictures for the articles. Sometimes I have clever captions. Other times, I don't really get paid for my pictures of Spider-man.

Sorry. Bad joke.

But Marion is not what my parents call me. Machiko Nishimura is actually my given name, back before I changed it in high school because my dad has (had? One remains hopeful) some ridiculous infatuation with science-fiction that he just had to impose on his only daughter. Guess we can't choose our parents, but can't our parents at least choose something less pointless to spend their time with? Okay, alright... I don't honestly mind his hobbies. At least, I never did. But still, couldn't they have given me a more thoughtful name?

Ramble, ramble, ramble.

Look, I changed my name because they kept getting it wrong on paper when I was school. Or mispronouncing it. Okay, and yes, "Marion Embers" sounds way more attractive when you see it next to "image credits" on an American news media website. You might have seen some of my older work when you were using your favorite search engine, back when the internet made zombies of us all.

Anyway, back to the beach:

Stumblers. Lurkers. Infected. I just call them Them. Pretty sure everyone understands what I'm saying by now.

They came towards me, and the people who had almost beached the fishing barge were scrambling to get the boat back out into the tossing water. A few of them shouted warnings at me, and yelled at me to move. I merely pulled my boots up from the suckling sand and began a brisk jog to the east, keeping the ocean to my right.

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I don't claim to be anything special. Even though I have some experience and I could pretty much be pedigreed. Thing is, I'm not simple. I see the lines between the lines, and I'm confident that my own body is a tool meant for action and resilience. I calculate myself, and move when I should, and know when I shouldn't.

Still, I didn't come out unscathed. I never do. I darted left and right, much like a game of tennis.

I wove between stinking hands and snapping teeth. Clack, clack, clack.

It was when I thought I was home-free that one snagged me by my sleeve, yanking me backwards until I literally sprawled flat on my ass. The overweight, sagging monster was on me before I could blow the brightly-colored whistle.

That's another bad joke. If you don't get it, forget it.

I've broken a few bones before... a fibula fracture, a dislocated, snapped toe. All in the line of work.

But I've never broken any phalanges. So when that greased-up fat dead guy munched down on my leather glove, it hurt more than sticking your finger in a pencil sharpener. But while he was busy nibbling through the thick leather to get to the meat that was mangled inside, I managed to find myself a rather handy sharp little rock that found itself a new home in the temporal lobe of a rather hungry individual.

It felt like rolling a VW Bug off me when I finally freed myself of Its weight. The Others had chased after the sound of my departing former fellow sailors, so to speak. Thank them wholly.

However, there was still the issue of my rather twisted and abused finger. It hurt like none other, and I tried to stifle my almost involuntary moans of discomfort. Okay, I tried not to scream like a little girl with a hangnail, but at this point? A hangnail would have been pleasant.

You know what I mean, come on. It's like being super-hot on a New York Summer afternoon, with no AC, and pretending you're in a cold cone of ice. Or being super-cold in an Atlanta winter and imagining a hot, warm beach. I was trying to psych myself out and dull the pain in my finger.

It never works.

At least my thick leather gloves had kept anything icky from getting into my bloodstream. There are global rumors about certain people being immune to the Infection, but I'm not interested in being the guinea pig to test that theory.

Sigh. I had to move, though. So I did, and I kept carrying myself through the darkness, hoping to see some sort of random fire or sense of life. Or unlife.

After awhile, I tugged out my crushed water-bottle (Dasani) and carefully twisted off the cap. My finger hurt like none other, and I don't think I'd ever point straight again---if I could get it fixed. Hopefully sooner than later. I was pretty disdained by the idea of having to re-break it to set it, but this was the least of my concerns.

I knew what I was in for, just like an awful relationship that promises abuse... yet some people can't help but try and brave the weather. Some people think they can change people, or even change worlds. Some people think the world can't affect them. I know my abilities, and I know my limits. I'm capable, if not determined. But these people? They've gathered here, and for some reason the darkest corners of the Earth has become the most flocked-to region in the midst of utter mayhem and worldwide darkness.

Why?

I will find out. And while I'm here? I'll be sure to give people a record; something for them to remember if they survive.

Or something for others to remember them by if they don't.

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((OOC Author's Note: Once again, plz forgive my amateur photo editing skills. I'm just having fun and messing around with the idea of an alt. Don't judge me too harshly! :) ))

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