§ 058.

[symmachy]

[scatty is standing alone in some alley. it's dark, but there's a streetlight somewhere near. there's blood on her once pristine white shirt, and her cropped hair is a faded red thanks to the dust caught up in it. there is a very, very large hole punched straight through the brick wall closest to her. there are red streaks from her eyes running down her face--she's been crying. crying blood, from the looks of it. but aside from the tell-tale red, grimy trails down her cheeks, her face is dry. her voice monotone.]

Max Gibson is dead.

[a beat. it seems as if that's all.]

... Dead.

[as if she's trying to convince herself. another pause. then scathach clutches the comm in her hand, tilts her head back and gives a very inhuman scream, and throws it into the brick wall, ending the feed.]

Comments

[symmachy]

What happened was an accident. But there was a person who caused it to happen.
Probably.

[incywincyhero]

If someone else is involved, you really need to call the police. I mean, heck, you should be calling them anyway, even if Max just had an accident out on her own.

[symmachy]

Useless.

[incywincyhero]

Wouldn't it be better to know what really happened, even if there's no one at fault? Plus ... well, either of them might come back eventually. I hope Max does, at least.

[symmachy]

She will.
But like I said. It's been taken care of.

[incywincyhero]

Well. All right then. [He's suspicious-slash-worried, but it doesn't seem like there's much more he can do other than ask, and she answered.]

Do you need anyone to stay with you?

[symmachy]

No. I'll be fine.

[incywincyhero]

If you change your mind, I'm only a web-swing away.