OOC
For my 1000th post I decided to finish up Part 3 of Vix's autobiography. Maybe one day I'll catch up to current events. Here is The Blue Moon, part 3:
IC
THE BLUE MOON (PART 3)
The fires smoldered in my brain and in my heart. I grew stronger as time went on. I was scarred in more ways then one. I began having nightmares, reliving my birthday night over and over again. To this day, the nightmares haunt my sleep. I would wake up in terror, sometimes screaming myself awake, much to my sister’s despair. One thing the nightmares did was giving me the resolve to strike back. I mentioned “Father” earlier, how he was imprisoned for making DNA coded weapons. I decided that if there were any way out of the hell I was living, I would need “Father’s” help. So to him I went.
“Father” hated Omni. He hated them even more when he learned what had happened to me. The three of us, ‘Father”, Viks, and I began plotting in secret against the foreman and our escape. “Father” knew he couldn’t escape with us. Omni had put a tracker device inside him. There was no way it could be safely removed with the means available. On the other-hand, “Father” had a lot of contacts and even a guard that could be counted on to smuggle small things into the camp, no questions asked. “Father” was still a very rich man, even though Omni had confiscated much. “Father’s” friends on the outside made sure he didn’t suffer the privations of most of the rest of us.
The planning was slow at first. “Father” thought up most of it. After all, we were just young girls. Still, we had our uses. In our time in the mines we found a small forgotten and no longer functioning drainage shaft that we could just manage to squeeze through. It was blocked on the one end by a heavy locked grate. This shaft would become our escape route when the time came.
A large measure of the plan was ending the foreman’s life. He continued to “use” my sister and myself from time to time. I always fought, but not too hard. What would it profit me to die by his hands when I was working on his death and our escape? In any case, we were counting on the pig using us as part of our plan. Like most men, he would fall asleep shortly after having his way. He would die in his sleep yes…but he would die by MY hand.
“Father” used up a lot of his wealth and favors to help us out. He started getting strange items delivered to him by a certain guard that had been bribed. He had us hide the items in the shaft. Months went by and the collection grew quite impressive we thought. Neither my sister nor I knew what all these strange items were. One of the things we needed to get was some hair from the foreman. “Father” didn’t explain why but we dutifully gathered up some of the foreman’s hair. It was an easy task. The next task was more difficult, but doable.
“Father” needed a rifle. Any rifle would do he said. So my sister and I set out to get a rifle. The guards had plenty of them of course. How to sneak one away without being discovered? We noticed that the guards were rather lax around the barracks. We often were in there cleaning up the place and washing the guards clothes. Many times the off-duty guards would get drunk. We decided that was our best chance to get a rifle. With any luck the unfortunate guard whose gun we took would be too embarrassed to report it missing and just slink away. We decided an upcoming celebration to do the deed. As expected, all but the on-duty guards were rip-roaring drunk. My sister entertained them a bit with a strip-show in the middle of the barracks floor. I swear she has no shame. Meanwhile, I made off with one of the guns, stuffed in a large laundry sack. I made my way to our secret drainage shaft and deposited the rifle there. The next morning there was a large search of the camp made for the missing rifle but they never found it. The guard whose rifle I stole, I later learned, had left the company in disgrace and have since taken up the struggle with the Clans. Seems I did him a favor.
After acquiring the rifle “Father” began to explain to us about DNA weapons. My sister soon lost interest, probably because she didn’t understand. But I absorbed the forbidden knowledge. He explained in detail how they were built, how they functioned, what materials were needed. “Father” taught me about shooting rifles: How to aim; How to breath; Then he taught me how to kill. The time was drawing nigh for the foreman to rest eternal, in the fiery pits of hell if such a place existed. After nearly a year of planning, collecting the parts to make the DNA rifle, and getting a small laser cutting tool to open the grate, we were finally ready. Now all we needed to do was smuggle the rifle into the foreman’s house, and wait for my turn to service him again.
