She lay upon the garden shed floor struggling meekly as her powerful husband continued to force the blunt handle of the shovel against her throat. She felt vertebrae ‘pop’ as darkness fogged her vision.
She wasn’t struggling on instinct though as she had already decided long ago it was only natural for a woman to be unable to overpower her husband. The woman always died. Sure she could have grasped the garden shears beside her and lethally thrust them into his chest anytime however that would have been a special case of survival against the odds. A special opportunity to survive against the odds was a bad alternative to being able to add to the sad statistics of wives killed by her husband. Yah, she’d keep pawing at his wrists like an idiot.
A smile crept over his mouth as darkness engulfed her.
It had been a perfect life.
Fumi took an unneeded gasp of air before scooting back against the wall of the empty room with the black ball. She grasped the trinket necklace resting against her neck which she had filled with her blood twenty-one years ago as part of her blood pact to lead an exceptionally normal life as she took a quick moment to get her grounds with this new situation.
Adapting ridiculously quickly to the situation she got up, made sure her bathrobe was wrapped tight and ventured out to the hall to find a place to wash the grime off her face. Thankfully a sink was at the far end and she scrubbed and brushed with her nails till a song went off in the other room. She walked back while plucking a piece of her lovers bloody brain matter off her robes and raising it to her lips. It was salty… just like her lovers semen.
As Fumi admired the gun and suitcase rack while dabbing the bloody flesh against her lips as a natural lipstick she began to piece a probable scenario together in her mind. She had probably just been put unconscious and then her husband, deep in debt to organized, had sent her to some “battle island” as a payment where she would take part in some organized “battle royale” styled game for their fun.
She had always hated that movie as barely anyone was normal and those that most resembled normal were labeled as insane. Seriously though, what normal person would take on a whole corporation when the odds of surviving by just being last one standing were so much better? It was a neat premise but if everyone had just manned up and accepted the scenario while the insane ones tried to get off the island the movie would have been so much better.
Fumi flicked the brain matter on the ground and got dressed in one of the probably bomb-ridden suits. She then threw her bloody robe back on and grabbed one of the pistol-like guns as it could be better concealed in the robes. Certain she had grabbed all to be acquired here she headed back to the sink to check to confirm her impromptu make-up was perfect and the transfer started.
If the gantz ball was working correctly she missed any message of aliens.
Taken aback slightly by being seemingly teleported to a rooftop in Rio (she knew from her general studies tourism class) for a moment Fumi studies the surroundings and notices a suited man to her south well out of what she imagined pistol range was. Quietly she heads to the door to the lower levels and tries the lock but it doesn’t budge so she crouches to reduce the chance of being hit by a ricocheted and shoots the handle with her pistol. For a moment she seems sure the gun doesn’t work and then.
Adapting quickly to the destruction of the futuristic pistol she throws any conception of pistol range out of her mind, wheels, and takes a shot at the shouting man to the south before fleeing down the staircase. Glancing out of the corner of her eye on the way down Fumi disappointingly notes that the blast didn’t even reach his building.
(Time to lose the robe)
Last edited by Aristocrazy; 05-10-2009 at 02:14 PM.
Aristocrazy's single contribution, The Old Man X Kaze prediction, is dead in the water.