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urcursebreaker · 6 months

Text

burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)

warnings for this chapter: 18+ content, graphic violence/gore/blood and animal death.

chapter 1: blood-soaked beauty

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

The floorboard creaks under your featherlight footing. You drag yourself to a fluid halt, cautiously analyzing the drab sunroom.

The crooked, off-kilter shelf; a ratty, blood-crusted sheet draped over it. A murky puddle of rain water reflecting the forlorn, dim winter sun, plumes of old motor oil dancing in an iridescent swirl. A lopsided, rusty tricycle. A pile of chipped cement bricks.

Nothing of use; and no one to hear your misstep.

You exhale shakily, resuming your calculated strides. You shuck the grimy, makeshift curtain away from the shelf, deftly pocketing a stray razor blade and half-used roll of duct tape.

After surveying the room and gathering what you need, you shove through the dry-rotted back door, the frigid breeze cascading through your unbound hair.

"Shit," your teeth clatter over the curse; the cold, penetrative rain aiming spears of ice straight through your bones.

You tighten the soiled fur-lined coat you had stolen from your brother around your frame, adjusting the shotgun slung over your shoulder. The rain soaks through the corduroy and saps your hair to your face.

You shield your eyes from the ferocious patter of rain and give the collapsing back porch a brisk once over, before making a run for the darkening tree line.

Mel had informed you of a vacant trailer park they'd encountered on their last sweep, just through the thick of the dense forestry. They'd killed the lingering infected on their way through, a few runners feeding on the steaming carcass of a horse.

She assured you there were no live cordyceps in the area, so they'd deemed it safe enough for you to loot it alone, as long as you returned to base before night descended and followed the precautions they established after Nora's death.

This was the final step of your initiation into the WLF; endure a loot run, alone, and with minimal supplies. Then you were officially one of them.

You and your brother had arrived in Seattle a month and a half ago, where you were grudgingly taken in by the Wolves after incidentally stumbling into one of their self-made traps.

After confirming you weren't a Seraphite, they'd permitted you shelter in exchange for your faithful camaraderie and proof of your usefulness. Which, even after all this time, you were still laboriously proving. You had to double your efforts to solidify your value in order to compensate for your brother.

He had his own beneficial qualities, but his blindness limited him to organizing and rationing stock, refurbishing broken supplies, and cleaning everyone's weaponry. Nobody wanted to risk sending him on a mission when there was a highly probable chance he wouldn't make it back.

So you had to act as two people when exploring the outside world.

The canopy of leaves give you decent coverage from the relentless rain as you move swiftly through the heavy greenery. The sun would set in precisely two hours, granting you sparsely half an hour to get to and search the sight.

The thought itself sends you into greater motion. You break into a sprint, hopping over fallen, mold-shrouded logs and winding around the towering, western pines, until the rain mutes to a dull sprinkle.

The trees eventually open up to unveil an expansive clearing. About a dozen overgrown, warped mobile homes dot the field, shadowed by swaying tall grass and curling canary.

You stop idly to catch your breath and do a cautionary visual sweep of your surroundings. It's all nearly peaceful; the distant span of rolling mountains. Silence, but the water dripping gently off the leaves, the bristle of the dew speckled grass. Wet vines billowing with the wind.

You rummage through the first few without difficulty; they were filthy and crumbling, but free of any infected or evidence of death. The trailer park was likely abandoned in the wake of the outbreak.

You collect an impressive variety of canned foods; beans, corn and even a dented can of mandarin oranges, alongside a few rolls of toilet paper and a box of unopened bandaids. You even found a collapsed bookshelf and salvaged a few books, snagging one for yourself to indulge in during your watch shift. You only allow yourself the selfish luxury as a celebration for you upcoming place among the WLF, once you return with the goods.

You begin to search the fourth to last trailer, this one partially seeping into the sunken, mossy earth and caving at the roof. Half of it was obstructed by the collapsed ceiling, but in the reachable area you find a toolbox under the sink, dump the miscellaneous screws and bolts into your backpack, and hook the baby hammer you find to the belt loop of your worn, bootcut Levi's.

You slip out of the trailer once you gather the necessities. A mockingbird chirps, it's tweet eerily reminiscent of a human whistle, it's wings beating overhead as it soars across the field and into the encompassing trees. You wipe your dusty, damp palms on your pants uncomfortably, glancing around before regaining your footing and making your way toward the neighboring trailer.

You're vigilant as you scan the interior, the birds song unsettling you deeply. It rung as if it were warning you; as if it were fleeing. You make sure to take the apple-cutting knife you spot on the counter.

You were sidling out of the derailed door when you heard it, plainly and resolutely; a sharp whistle from your left.

You freeze. Your hand subconsciously jerking to your holster.

Silence.

The pines creak. The grass wisps faintly.

Another whistle, this one long, melodic, and from your right; closer.

You duck into the brush, your heart hammering wildly against your chest. You withdraw your gun, fishing the stray bullets out of your pocket, loading it with trembling fingers.

The grass rustles forcefully from both sides, followed by a series of coded whistles, all nearing by the second. Your breaths heave from your lips in panicked spurts, as you crawl under the latticed underbelly of the trailer, mud plastering to your elbows, your brothers coat.

Seraphites. Fucking Seraphites.

You'd rather it be a herd of infected.

Especially when you hear a dog's frantic, frothing string of furious barks.

"She was just over here. She can't be far," a male voice boom's authoritatively, too close for comfort. "She's close."

The mud must be deflecting the dogs of your scent, as you can make out their nearby blood-thirsty sniffing. You quietly lather it on your face, smearing it all over your exposed skin, suppressing your labored breathing.

Two Seraphites enter the trailer you're tucked beneath. The floor screeches precariously under their footing, inching closer to where you lay. You shimmy toward the small gap on the opposing side of the crawlspace, accidentally slicing your cheek on a stranded, dangling pipe in your attempt to avoid them.

You grimace, stifling the whimper rising in your throat, the split searing your cheek, hot blood leaking down your face.

It's only a few seconds later when the previously sedated, off-course dogs begin to bark ravenously, harmonizing as they bound for you in a frenzy.

They must've smelled the blood.

You curse openly now, clambering for the small opening, shredding it open with your adrenaline-piqued strength, stumbling to your feet and dashing down the hill.

"There she is!" Someone hollers, followed by a stampede of Seraphites hurdling behind you, gunshots renting the evening air.

Bullets whistle by in whirs as you stagger zig-zaggedly away from them, the dogs barking intensifying as they speed through the slick grass.

"Fuck," you seethe, tearing through the terrain, toppling down the hill, nearly losing your balance. You manage to shoot over your shoulder without falling, clipping a Seraphite on her waist, sending her plummeting to the ground.

More resounding gunshots. Exchanged shouts. One of the dog emits a loud, wounded whimper.

You run far and fast enough that you lose the dogs for a couple of minutes. You press yourself against a wide berthed tree and breathe raggedly, painfully, rubbing a heap of mud onto your gash, blanketing the blood in it.

You barely have time to catch your breath when a twig snaps to your left.

And you barely have time to react before a body is pummeling into you, knocking you to the rain-sullen floor, eliciting a grunt out of you.

You blindly wrestle the man off of you, stabbing him directly in the gut with the knife you'd thieved. He gets a powerful punch in despite the wound you'd inflicted, your head reeling back, slamming into rock.

The world spins around you, blood coats your tongue, but you stab him again, twisting it up and penetrating an organ, a guttural scream tearing through his throat. It weakens him enough that you manage to shove his body weight off of you, and he rolls onto the wet moss with a thud.

He reaches weakly for your ankle, and you flip the knife, bringing it down on his skull with a deafening, sickening crunch, as it spears through scalp and drills through bone.

You don't bother beholding the gruesome scene or dislodging your new weapon from his head; you turn away from the act you'd committed and hobble away, vision distorted and mind fogged from the impact of his attack.

You slip the fully loaded shotgun off your shoulder and cock it, creeping back toward where you had fled. If you didn't kill them all now, they'd track you back to the base.

There were five that chased and fired at you; two of which were accompanied by a hellhound. One of the dogs was seemingly injured in the crossfire, leaving one dog, and four Seraphites, if you exclude the woman you'd momentarily impaired. The man you killed must've been stationed in the woods, meaning there had to be more located somewhere.

You do all the calculations mentally, your shoulders strung high in alert, eyes feverishly darting around, assessing the vicinity. The sun was setting, darkness eclipsing the trees.

Another cycle of distant gunshots ricochet through the forest, from where you had run. No dogs barked. Everything around you remained unmoving. Your fear had taken you far.

Eventually, you arrive back to the yawning field. The trailers were pierced with steaming bullet holes, blood spattering the rusted metallic sidings. Three Seraphites stand back to back in the opening, including the pixie-cutted woman you'd shot, muttering apprehensively amongst themselves.

You crouch behind a bush, aiming at the cluster of people. One of the dogs lay unmoving and rigid, face-up in the grass, a puddle of blood accumulating around its body. Your brow pinches in bewilderment as you notice a Seraphite girl sprawled lifelessly beside it.

And another one, by the feet of one of the living soldiers, his gun clutched tautly to his chest. He flickers his gaze around dubiously, frightfully, mimicking yours and the others confusion.

You take advantage of their preoccupation with their uncounted for enemy and lock in on the befuddled man, zeroing in on his head. You steady your hold, let it linger on him, before pulling the trigger.

It blasts through him, brains and blood exploding through the air, birds flocking from the trees with high-pitched guffaws. You'd already vacated your spot when the other two began listlessly shooting in that direction.

You seek new lodging behind an abandoned CRV, studying them from a new angle. You zone in on one of the women, finger hovering over the trigger, when two gunshots erupt. Seamlessly killing each of them.

You hesitate for a brief second, before deigning to head back the way you had come, not wanting to cross paths with the dangerous, exceptional force that had swept in and took each of them down one by one.

The past gunshots ring perilously, hazily in your ears. You lethargically flick the drying mud off of your face, trudging through the forest, still wary of any potential threat, as the person who'd been capable of single-handedly decimating that entire group of Seraphites was still wandering through these woods somewhere with the knowledge you were alive.

You're nearing the old farmhouse you were scavenging earlier when a soft, hesitant, questioning whistle sends you halting in place. You tuck yourself behind a tree, scouting for the source of the noise. They repeat the whistle, more insistently.

You shift to step out from behind the tree when a calloused hand clasps over your mouth, steering you into a lithe, toned body. You struggle against the firm, strapping grasp, hot breath fanning your ear.

"Quiet." A soft, raspy female voice murmurs lowly. Arm secured around your waist, anchoring you to her blood-soaked front. Her words tickle your cheek as she whispers, "We're not alone."

You reluctantly concede, only lightly squirming in her oppressive hold. Fearing that if you refuse to comply, she'll aim her wrath at you next. Loathing that she can feel the trepidation emanating through you, the rapid thundering of your heart against her arm.

Boots rifle through the damp leaves, the hushed footing sloshing through mud. Your wheezy breathing escalates as your unknown captor leisurely maneuvers around the tree, grasp on you unyielding as she expertly avoids the prying Seraphite.

"Shh. Easy now." The woman mutters with lethal, calm calculation. The soft, fatal edge filtering her tone sending an unexpected, quavering shudder through your icy body.

You nod stiffly under her sweaty palm, and she marginally appeases her bone-crushing grip on you. She slowly, deliberately removes her hand from your mouth, absentmindedly dragging it down your chin, her rough fingers ghosting your jaw.

You anxiously glance down to find your heels on top of her scuffed boots and stumble off of her in alarm. Her hand catches your waist, grave-cold digits inching up your jacket, clawing at bare skin, as she yanks you back behind the tree.

You make to glance at her in a conjunction of gratitude and terror, but she had dissipated seamlessly, whirring by like a vengeful phantom in the night as she stations herself behind an adjacent tree, back plastered to the moss-cushioned, sappy trunk. Elaborately designed switchblade in hand.

She eyes her target, deadpan, excluding the twitch of her bruised under eye. She presses a trembling finger to her chapped lips, slicing a cautionary glare at you.

You sardonically hold your breath, emphatically puffing your cheeks, and you swear you discern an amused lilt to her lips. Or perhaps it was just the waning, dimming sun light, glazing over her slim figure, quelling dancing shadows across her battered face.

Whatever it was vacuumed out of her face, overcome by a grim, stoic solidity, when the Seraphite inched hesitantly in her direction. She creeps around the base of the tree as he rounds it, leisurely prowling up to him.

It happens briskly, lightening-quick— you blink and she was fisting his unruly hair and hauling him back, baring his throat to her— which she drills through efficiently and relentlessly, blood spraying in jagged spurts, sprinkling her wrath-warped face.

Another whistle cuts distantly through the humid air.

She's already slipping through the night-shrouded greenery before he even falls, his gurgled, floundering whimpers following him down as he thuds to the ground, blood still sputtering out of him, large frame twitching.

She disappears through the vast darkness of impending nightfall, her bloodied knife glinting faintly, distantly in the minute moonlight, as she takes determined strides toward the source of the second whistle.

Horror clutches your heart and squeezes unabashedly as you linger, the man's lifeless body still pulsating with the remnants of life it harbored.

You cast a suspecting glance around, the brush tranquilly silent, death idling in the dampened air.

And then you throttle back the way you were originally headed, wanting to put as much space between you and the ominous woman as tangibly possible, in case she returned, regretting keeping you alive.

You don't make it very far.

An arrow soars through the air and strikes the back of your thigh, puncturing flesh, narrowly missing the bone. Searing, white-hot pain bursts through your body as you slam to the ground with a sharp cry— your scream ricocheting through the trees.

You clamber for purchase, using your arms to crawl through the dense mud, dragging your injured leg dejectedly. The pain scathing, shooting up your body in fissures of agony, as you seethe through your teeth, the full arrow protruding from your skin.

You hear the whistle of a second arrow and duck. It spears through the earth inches from your head. You speed up, using your unwounded knee to push you forward, colorful dots edging your vision.

Twigs snap all around; muffled shouts resounding through the forest, an electric current of danger thrumming through your numbing body, as you drag yourself weakly, futilely.

You halt under a curling, dripping fern, fumbling for the arrow gauging your thigh. You take a few deep, alleviating breaths, before ripping it from your leg, stifling a scream at the scathing pain. Crimson saturates your pants, blooming in a dark pool.

Seraphites are storming by urgently, mud flicking off their boots. You remain unnoticed by a quad of them that hurdle by.

For a couple minutes it's silent. You don't move, afraid that if you shift even slightly, you won't be able to suppress the noise that would leave you at the blistering, twinging agony.

You think you're remotely safe, shielded from searching eyes, superficial wound already sealing.

That is before your head is unexpectedly cracked against something colossal, and your wisked away into a world of unfathomable darkness.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Drip.

Your finger twitches, pulse thumping in the pads.

Drip.

Your heartbeat thunders through your skull, the drumming nearly muffling the faint noise. Your face spasms; the mobility slowly begins creeping in, though your mind has been reduced to a vacant chamber of incoherence.

Drip.

The hairs on the back of your neck stiffen. A keen awareness begins to slither back into your numbed body; you're not alone. Your mind may be buzzing, it's cognition still restoring by the second, but your body tingles under watchful eyes. You remain frozen.

Until a boisterous crackle sends you lunging up, triggering a sharp intake of breath. You gasp for air, shaking violently, your vision still murky from earlier's collision.

Through your fragmented sight and a stream of dense smoke, you decipher a red figure. They hover just across from you, the small, roaring fire the only barrier dividing you from the eerily, predatorily still stranger.

You blink rapidly, disorient. "Who are you?" you bleat, voice hoarse with misuse. You attempt to lift your hands as a last resort of protection, to find them bound in front of you. You wriggle them senselessly, panic bubbling in your chest, the thick, tethered rope rubbing your skin raw.

The figure's head tilts inquisitively. "Who are you." A husky, feminine voice drawls.

That voice...

You gulp, saliva syrupy like molasses. It's the girl; you knew from the way her voice alone sent a bolt of hot, electrifying shivers up your spine. "You," you breathe softly, licking your teeth, the taste of your own blood relinquishing on your tongue. "You're the girl. You helped me."

The figure straightens, rigid, arm dangling off her thigh as she crouches before the fire. Though you can't directly see her eyes through the haze, you can feel her gaze penetrating through you, prying you apart piece by piece.

She's silent for a moment, before picking up a stick and delicately prodding the flames, the smoke lightly defusing, the embers flickering. "I was going to kill them all anyway." She informs blithely, shrugging with one bandaged shoulder.

You could see her clearer than before, now; she was doused head to toe in crimson. Blood billowed down her sharp face, dripping to the floor in slow but ferocious spatters. The blood accentuated the verdant-blue of her crystalline eyes, dull and piercing yours. "I could tell you weren't one of them. And I don't kill just for the fuck's of it."

You sit in uneasy silence, studying her outline apprehensively. She withdraws her switchblade from her pocket and continues, "Which raises the question; if you aren't one of them, who are you?" She asks conspicuously, as if to herself, as she begins sharpening the blade.

You hesitate, your mouth dry as you reluctantly offer her your name. You know better than to share anything beyond that; the WLF had everyone under lockdown. Abby believes Nora's murder was a targeted, vengeful attack, and had warned all of you not to disclose your ties, in case you stumble upon someone who knows the killer.

"Do you move alone?" The woman interrogated unabashedly, peering down at the knife as she ran a dirty rag across its shiny surface.

"No," you admit, swallowing harshly, shaking your head. "It's me and my brother. He's blind, so I go out and get supplies, he protects our stuff."

Half truths are the most believable lies.

"Where did you two come from?"

"Ohio," you respond baldly. "We left with our family, but. It's just us now."

She pauses to assess you for a moment. "I lost someone too." She mutters, haunt dwindling in her eyes.

It's your turn to analyze her. Even caked in grime and unapologetically coated in her victims blood, she was beautiful. Her mussed auburn hair was partially tied back out of her angular face, her features neatly carved like a statues, emphatic and naturally alluring. Her eyes were a brewery, swirling with color and indistinguishable emotion, framed by expressive eyebrows, one of them slitted.

Maybe it's wrong to look at her— the woman who'd shamelessly, brutally wiped out dozens of people before your eyes— and notice these things.

But you've always been an optimist.

You can tell by the wariness glinting in her eyes that she doesn't share that sentiment.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you whisper sincerely, sorrowfully, gulping down the lump of emotion cementing in your throat.

She glances away, her jaw clenching. A muscle spasms in her blood-spattered neck. "Yeah," she whispers tightly, the word emitting from her lips in an unintentional seethe. "Yeah, I'm sorry too."

There's an awkward duration of silence.

"So..." you snort, and she startles at the noise, glancing up at you in bewilderment. Her swampy blue gaze roving over your slick face. "Can you maybe untie me now?" You lift your bound wrists in emphasis, arching a brow, trying to appear undeterred by her astute stare.

Her eyes brighten vaguely. "Why? You don't like it?" She teases monotonously, a frail smirk tugging at her cracked lips. Your cheeks tingle with warmth at the insinuation, and you shift, coyly angling your face away from the blood-soaked beauty.

"Not when it's against my will, no," you respond, half-quipping.

"But when it's not?" She raises a challenging brow, that sort-of smirk still pulling at her lips.

Against your better judgement, a conclave of butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering around. It's evident that she's just joking, which, in contrast to her rumpled, grizzly appearance, is funny in itself. The fear you felt around her from before seems to have dissipated and been replaced by a morbid curiosity.

"Untie me and try again. We'll find out."

"Huh," she coughs out a sheepish laugh, sliding her thumb across her lip, ridding the blood that had dripped there. She's silent for a moment, before pointedly clearing her throat. "That wound was pretty gnarly." Her voice comes out in a ragged breath.

You smile to yourself at her sudden timidity, glancing down at your thigh. Crimson blossomed through the bandage enveloping your wound— she must've dressed it herself, when you were unconscious. Which means she must've also...

"Did you carry me here?" You question in disbelief. She must be insurmountably strong if she was able to move your dead weight...

"Yeah," she clears her throat again, eyes uncertainly darting between you and her blemished green backpack. She grazes a finger over a tiny spaceship pin clipped to the front contemplatively. "It wasn't very far from where you dropped."

"Ah," you chirp airily, nodding slowly, watching her unzip the front pouch and unveil a sack of cashews. "Well... thanks."

She hums noncommittally, tossing the sack of nuts to you. You eye her warily, awaiting her curt nod of confirmation, before ripping it open and gratefully popping a couple in your mouth. She watches you eat mutely, blankly.

A gentle stream of dewy morning sunlight begins to beam through the torn netting of the rusted window, softly illuminating your previously shadowed surroundings. It's the garage of the farmhouse you were looting before.

The loot.

Your chewing slows, and you cast your gaze around frantically in search of your bag. And your guns. They're no where to be found.

"I left all your stuff there," the girl states knowingly, shrugging at the look of pure panic on your face. "It was too heavy for me to carry both you and you're stuff. We'll go back for it once the sun rises."

The implication she'd be accompanying you made a part of you uneasy; but on the other hand, you were thankful you wouldn't have to relocate your things all alone.

"Okay..." you reply dubiously, flexing your bound wrists, the muscles beginning to ache. "When am I getting these off? It's not like I can hurt you. I'm unarmed."

She shoves off the concrete and to her feet with a soft grunt, absentmindedly rubbing her side, wincing at her own touch. She shoulders her bag, smiling down at you wolfishly. The orange glare of the dimming fire reflects off her blood-stained face. "Not yet."

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

You examine your reflection in the rippling water. A cracking layer of mud mutates your face, greases your hair. You cup a handful of oil-contaminated water and splash it into your face, rubbing vigorously, the now wet rope heavy against your wrists.

Sunlight gleams through the overhead awning of leaves, ricocheting off the water. The morning birds chime in benign song; the rest of the encompassing world silent, save for the gurgling of the stream. Fog creeps in from the distant forestry; dew speckles the frost-tipped grass.

You pat the dampness from your eyes with your sleeve and glance at the woman. She's half-submerged in the pond, plumes of blood roiling off of her, tainting the water a murky crimson. She scrubs her blood-crusted arms vehemently, grimacing, pointedly disregarding you.

You waltz over to the large, upturned rock where she'd draped her coat, moving slowly and methodically as to not disengage her from her trance. You toss your coat down beside it and unlace your boots, setting them aside, eyes trained on her carefully, still afraid that one wrong move could send her lurching.

On the trek here, she'd been passive and silent, her face ghoulish and tense. It was as if with the rise of dawn came the fall of her peace; there was tension in her jaw, and determination in her strides. Though she'd been the one to suggest accompanying you, she seemed suddenly inconvenienced by it, like she was in a haste to finally be rid of you.

Which, gladly. You didn't want to be tied up and leashed around any more than she wanted you trailing her and nosing her plans.

She may have helped you, nursed you back to health, but you didn't forget what she was capable of; the mass destruction at her singular hands.

You wanted to remain on her good side, or whatever side emboldened her to save you, for as long as you could; at least until you were released from her clutches.

You peel off your socks and keep the rest of your clothes on— a soiled green camisole and blood-stained Levi's— and hesitantly breach the shore of the cold water, creeping toward her unsurely. You gasp quietly when the icy water rises to your midriff, raising your goose-pimpled arms over the surface, teeth clattering.

"How are you not freezing!?" You yelp as you dive into a breaststroke, swimming past her, shivers wracking your body. You spin around and float on your back, exhaling obnoxiously. It's hard to move without using your arms, but you manage to keep yourself afloat with just your legs.

She glances at you furtively, her eyes flickering between your face and your chest, before chagrinly dropping back to her arm. "It's not bad," she mumbles mundanely, her skin raw and blistering from her violent scrubbing.

You notice a bold tattoo curling over the length of her forearm. Curiously, you inch nearer to her, taking in the ink. It's a detailed moth atop

a long, winding fern.

"Cool tat," you chirp, absentmindedly extending a finger and lightly caressing the thick line of ink. She stiffens but doesn't recoil, her lowered eyes meeting yours uncertainly.

"Thanks," she says gruffly, simply, retracting her hand, eyeing you for a prolonged second before returning to her scrubbing. This time she soaks a cloth she must've cut from her shirt. She half-heartedly sweeps her hair off her neck and runs it down her back, blood beading off in loud droplets.

You take a step back and fully duck yourself into the water; despite its nearly debilitating chill, it was refreshing— the mud and blood flaking off and floating in particles around you. You aggressively massage the water into your hair, digging out the caked-up grime to the best of your ability with your bound wrists partially disabling you.

You break the surface with a gentle gasp for air and find the woman staring at you. Except this time, instead of sheepishly breaking your gaze, her stare remains resolute. Her eyes leisurely rove over your face, where water drips languidly from your lashes and scars brand your skin, and down your chest, where your nipples are peaked from the cold.

You feel them harden further at her gaze, as it seems to indulgently trace the shape of them. You swear you detect a hitch in her otherwise steady breathing before her eyes wander, slowly, back up to your face, darkening when they meet yours.

She doesn't say anything, her now mainly bloodless face masterfully blank. You tentatively take a couple steps closer, the ground rough and littered beneath your feet, until she's practically peering down at you. Freckles form a vast constellation on her cheeks and nose, a light smattering dusting her face. A nearly microscopic scar mars her lip.

"You never told me your name," you say pointedly, raising a brow, projecting an illusion of confidence. Her eyes dart to the roguish smile splaying on your lips, and you lick them subconsciously, the rancid tang of dirty water dissolving on your tongue. "You know mine. Doesn't seem fair."

She contemplates you for a second, craning her chin up, donning a faint smirk of her own. "Ellie."

You sink deeper into the water, shielding the entire upper half of your body, peaking up at her. "Well, Ellie," you taste her name on your tongue, drawling it out deliberately, precisely, as you attempt to swim backwards. "It's not very easy to swim with no hands."

"Then stop swimming." She states matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes, gliding towards the shore nonetheless.

But on the way up, your knee grazes something sharp, and you hiss a curse, wincing internally. You dip your fingers into the water and fumble for the object, forcefully yanking it out of the mud where it's lodged.

It's a thick shard of glass.

You glance over your shoulder at Ellie, blissfully unaware and dragging the cloth down her reddened face, before pocketing it covertly and marching up the shore.

You linger for a moment, water dripping out of your hair and off your seeping body, before wringing out as much as you could and calling, "Gonna go piss, be right back!"

Ellie doesn't respond. You take that as your cue to go, hurrying through the dense tree line and crouching behind a hefty bush. You strain your neck to peak at her through the branches, assuring yourself she's still preoccupied, before pulling out the shard and sawing into the rope.

You saw and saw and saw, slowly but surely cutting through the rope, its grip loosening by the second.

A twig snaps behind you.

You swivel around swiftly, freezing in horror as Ellie stares down at you, her switchblade unsheathed. You hadn't heard her wading through the water; she'd moved silently and stealthily.

Her face is blank, that expertly devoid expression she'd tailored when hunting down those Seraphites plastered on.

She reers the knife back, the only sign of life the twitch of her upper lip. You close your eyes and brace for the impact; this was it. You should've played the long game, gained her trust, earned your freedom. Now she was going to slaughter you like the rest.

You flinch at the grunt that tears through her lips as she brings the blade down.

Only instead of agony, blade breaking flesh, your hands snap to the ground, free of unbearable tension.

You fearfully squint down at your wrists; the rope now split in half, cuffing your wrists but no longer knotted before you. You stretch them apart, rolling your shoulders, looking up at her with pure, undiluted trepidation, gulping.

She meets your gaze unapologetically and throws your coat down at you. "Let's go," she says dispassionately, cooly, already turning away and marching up the hill. "Your stuff isn't far."

. . .

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie tlou #joel miller #playstation #ps4 #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #joel and ellie #abby anderson #burningbodywaiting

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rreskk · 11 months

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For a fic idea : after an tought arguing, Reader left Trevor's trailer to calm herself but when she came back, she found Trevor completely high and crying ? 👀

A/N: A great idea indeed.

Summary: After a fight, you went to make amends and found him crying.

TW: -Angst -Implied drug use/addiction

He was filthy, morally deranged, absolutely demented, covered in dirt, and a total freak show. Why the fuck… Are you driving back to his trailer? After that stunt he pulled earlier that day.

While in the course of sharing quality time, a fight broke out. You raised concern of his lifestyle and Trevor took offence, hardcore offence. It was rough. Under the assumption he was going to physically act upon his anger, you left. With his distorted threats lowering the tone after a yard away, you found peace on the seaside and sat there for more than a few hours.

Now sun was setting, it was time to return and make amends. Hopefully repairing internal wounds as, you hate to admit, you love him.

Your foot squeaked upon the wooden boards towards his trailer. The sunshade from his sketchy roof helped advanced your vision and the sight of his door was within arm distance. Reaching out, you heard some pained wails from behind the thin walls that divided you both.

“What?” You whispered when pushing the steel door open.

The main room was empty and hallow. Alcohol bottles scattered the floor with packs of cigarettes opened and tossed in all directions. Didn’t he quit smoking? You’d think to yourself while stepping closer.

That’s when you heard it.

From his exposed bedroom, you caught a glimpse of Trevor lying there, hugging his knees while repeatedly crying and wailing. His hair was damp with sweat and a pipe was lying limb in his unused hand. You knew it was meth straight away. The smell, the sight, the reaction. This is what the fight was about. His meth addiction.

“Trevor…” You ushered towards his broken state, “Trev, I’m here, I’m back.”

Trevor inhaled sharply as he rotated his body. The main lights illuminated off his face and you saw tear stains, stained blood on his nose, wobbly lips, and one heartbroken man. He looked as though he saw a ghost. Trevor crawled out of his shell and wobbled to you, his arms extended and mouth mumbling out your name. A second later, he was embracing you and dampening your sleeves with his drool and tears.

“Shhh…” Rubbing his back in circles, you tried to calm him down.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, Trevor.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you-“ He whimpered.

“Shh… Take deep breaths.” Trevor nodded and followed your instructions. With a deep breath in, he exhaled and felt his shoulders loosen tension. You smiled, “Good… Good. And again.” The cycle repeated.

Trevor regained composure and stood with a limp. The meth had intoxicated his mobility so you kept a close grip on him.

“Why don’t we go to bed now?” You assured him advice.

Trevor gazed into your eyes with fear, “Are you… Leaving?”

“No, no. Of course not. I’ll go with you, yeah?”

“Please, oh, please! Don’t leave, please. I’ll do anything!”

Sighing, you smiled sadly, “I won’t leave. Come one, we’ll go to bed together. I promise.”

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta v #gta 5 #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor gta

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thesimblrofficedirectory · 8 months

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Are you ambitious? Is work just a paycheck? Tired of being a slacker? Want to turn that frown upside down?

Then, boy have we got the job for you!

Our recent wave of hires has begun to ebb, so we're putting you all on notice: We're hiring! See open positions below.

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You keep us on the straight & narrow; working closely (but not too closely) with bureau leadership to perform internal audits; create, continuously refine, and enforce the policies and procedures for your assigned bureau and the company as a whole.

-Client Engagement -Facilities -Finance -Human Resources -Information and Technology -Marketing

Bureau of Facilities

Without you, we'd just be a bunch of well-dressed folks standing around in a cold, empty building. We need you to make sure everything's working as it should be and that we're always fully stocked on all the things that keep us energized and productive!

-Mechanical (Electrical, Elevators, Equipment Maintenance) -Premise (Grounds Maintenance and Real Estate Management) -Purchasing (From pushpins to pallet jacks)

Bureau of Human Resources

You are we, and we are, apparently, where the party's at; everyone and their uncle Fred wants to be in HR. Come November, it'll be your time to shine. The yearly benefits package will roll out and people will have questions, lots of questions, and we need you to answer them because we're all too busy handling other things. Please!

-Employee Benefits

Bureau of Finance

From the assets we already have to our future investments and everything in between, you're on top of the comings and goings of every §imoleon we have to our name.

-Asset Management -Travel and Accommodations -Vendor Relations

Bureau of Information & Technology

Desk phones? Softphones? Company-issued mobile devices? THE INTERNET?! That's all you, babe!

-Telecommunications

Bureau of Marketing

The copywriters and designers are often just a ball of unleashed creativity until you step in; after R&D, you're the beginning and the end of what we're slapping our logo on or putting our name behind; we can't do it without you!

-Planning and Implementation

We appreciate your interest. It's never too late to JOIN US! -HR

Tags are not 100% reliable, so be sure to drop us an ask if you want to make sure you've been queued. You can also check out the full list of bureaus and delegations here.

#new simblr #the simblr office #thesimblroffice #tsodrecruiting

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riley-coyotl · 9 months

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Yesterday, Maple had a consult with an orthopedic surgeon in Chattanooga. It went very well! We were very happy with the vet hospital--their facility was excellent, and everyone we talked to there was kind, respectful, professional, and helpful. Maple, of course, was a very good girl and did wonderfully at the hospital! Ultimately I feel we received good news, and I left feeling encouraged and more confident in both medical management and surgical options for her hip dysplasia.

We mostly went there to discuss total hip replacement (THR) surgery for Maple. According to the surgeon, she is a good candidate for THR surgery, and it would be a reasonable choice for her, with the goal of eliminating pain and returning normal function to her hip(s) for the rest of her life. There is even a good chance she would regain function well enough and be pain free with only one hip being replaced.

We were also told that it is perfectly reasonable to wait and possibly get the surgery done in the future if we want to continue to try medical management first for now; the surgeon assured us that Maple’s age is not a factor that should prevent her from getting this surgery, not now nor when she is older. As he put it, “[dogs] don’t come with an expiration date.” He regularly does THR on older dogs and told us there is no reason that they cannot get and benefit from the surgery; just the other week he performed a THR on a giant schnauzer who was around Maple’s age, as well as another dog recently who was 14 years old. With Maple turning 12 later this year, it was a big relief to hear that there isn’t this big looming time limit on her being able to be helped with surgery.

(The surgeon did not particularly recommend FHO surgery for Maple, which is already in-line with how we felt about it, which is that it’s not the right choice for her case.)

That said, we also talked about medical management. In the surgeon’s opinion, at Maple’s current age and progression of arthritis in her hips, there is no reason for us to limit her activities at all—he does not think that she will really be able to do further damage/make her arthritis any worse than it already is. In his opinion, we should let Maple choose how she wants to limit herself and how much she wants to do. I am a little skeptical on that simply because Maple is a high drive dog who has a tendency to push through pain...however I feel like I can try to make informed judgment calls based on her pain levels (especially now that I know her issue is there,) and continue to do what I’ve always done throughout her life—be her sense of self-preservation for her. I am going to try to compromise with Maple—she can do what she wants as long as I don't see her struggling with pain. If she is noticeably having a hard time, she's gotta stop, and at least take a break.

So, especially since there is no reason we cannot choose surgery for her in the future if we decide that's best, our plan for now is to see if medical management (pain meds + supplements + physical therapy) can help Maple be pain-free and mobile enough to have good quality of life and continue to do the things she loves. We’re gonna see how it goes. I already see some improvement since starting her on gabapentin and omega 3s, and hopefully that trend continues. I hope she will be ok and continue to be able to be Maple to the fullest capacity. 🧡

#dogs #dogblr #english shepherd #maple #hip dysplasia

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the-never-ending-project · 2 months

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Current task: we're making a fully fledged game via Desmos for y'all to be able to play a boardgame made specifically for this worldbuilding project! It's a rather ancient game actually in-world, kinda sorta similar to chess's oldest ancestors, in particular with its use of a die that doesn't have sequential face numbers. Current working title for it is Weights Board Game but we're gonna change that later on. We play tested it! It's pretty fun!

Vote: should we make it just for PC compatible (much, much, much faster to complete, potentially better polish due to more time for graphics/visuals and any potential bug fixes) or PC and mobile compatible? (Much more time consuming, potentially slightly less polished)

Either way we have unhealthy standards for our programming so rest assured it'll be a quality creation no matter what

Also we may down the road make updates to the program for any of the descendents of the game too :P so keep an eye out for that maybe???

#the never ending project #worldbuilding #never ending project #fantasy #writing project #fiction #writing #lore #board games #programming #games #polls

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webdesigninginagartala · 4 days

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Are you searching for the Best Website Designers in Delhi?

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net-craft · 1 month

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Mastering E-Learning App Development: Features and Budget Unveiled (Brought to you by Scottsdale App Development Leaders, Net-Craft.com)

In today’s rapidly evolving learning landscape, e-learning apps are taking center stage. Here at Net-Craft.com, a leading force in Scottsdale App Development, we understand the growing demand for engaging and accessible learning experiences. This begs the question: what goes into mastering e-learning app development?

This blog post delves into the key features and budget considerations involved in crafting a successful e-learning app. Whether you’re a seasoned educator or a business seeking to onboard and train employees efficiently, this guide will equip you with the knowledge needed to navigate the e-learning app development journey.

Understanding User Needs: The Bedrock of Scottsdale App Development

As with any successful app, understanding your target audience’s needs is paramount. For e-learning apps, this means considering learner demographics, learning styles, and preferred content formats.

Here’s how top mobile app development in Scottsdale approaches user-centric design:

Identifying Learner Profiles: Is your target audience composed of visual learners who thrive on interactive elements, or auditory learners who benefit most from audio lectures? Tailoring content delivery to different learning styles is crucial for engagement.

Content Accessibility: Ensure your app caters to users with disabilities by incorporating features like closed captioning for videos, alternative text for images, and text-to-speech functionality.

Offline Accessibility: Allow users to download content and access it offline. This caters to those with limited internet access or who wish to learn on the go.

Essential Features for Your E-Learning App

Now, let’s explore the fundamental features that should be considered when working with a best app development agency in Scottsdale to create your e-learning app:

Content Management System (CMS): A user-friendly CMS allows you to easily upload and manage learning materials, including videos, images, and text documents.

Interactive Learning Elements: Gamification techniques, quizzes, and interactive activities can enhance engagement and make learning more enjoyable.

Progress Tracking and Assessments: Allow users to track their progress through courses and assess their learning with built-in quizzes and tests.

Personalized Learning Paths: Catering to individual learning styles can be achieved through personalized learning paths that recommend content based on user performance and preferences.

Push Notifications & Reminders: Remind users about upcoming lessons, deadlines, and new content through push notifications that encourage consistent engagement.

Social Learning Features: Foster a sense of community and interaction through discussion forums, collaborative tasks, and chat functionalities.

Budget Considerations for Your Scottsdale App Development Project

The cost of developing your e-learning app will depend on a variety of factors, including:

App Complexity: A simple, text-based app will require less development time and resources compared to one featuring rich multimedia content, animations, and interactive elements.

Platform Development: Will your app be native (developed specifically for iOS or Android) or cross-platform (developed to function on both platforms)? Native apps offer a more optimized user experience but may require separate development processes.

Development Team Expertise: The experience and skillset of your chosen Scottsdale App Development team will impact the overall cost.

Here’s a breakdown of some typical cost components:

Project planning and design: This includes user research, wireframing, and prototyping.

App development: The coding and programming needed to bring your app to life.

Integration of features: Adding features like push notifications or social learning will increase the complexity and cost.

Quality assurance and testing: Ensuring a bug-free and well-functioning app requires rigorous testing.

App store submission fees: There are fees associated with submitting your app to the Apple App Store and Google Play Store.

Net-Craft.com: Your Partner in E-Learning App Development Success

Net-Craft.com, a top mobile app development company in Scottsdale, understands the complexities of e-learning app development. We work closely with you to define your vision, understand your target audience, and create a budget that aligns with your goals.

Here’s how we can help you navigate through the process:

Experienced Team: Our team comprises seasoned developers skilled in crafting engaging and user-friendly e-learning apps.

Agile Development Methodology: We adopt a flexible Agile approach that allows for continuous feedback and adaptation throughout development.

Data-Driven Approach: By leveraging analytics, we’ll track user behavior and identify opportunities for improvement to optimize the learning experience.

E-Learning App Development: A Lucrative Investment

Developing an e-learning app represents a smart investment in the future of education and training. The benefits are numerous:

Increased Accessibility: E-learning apps provide a flexible and accessible learning format, allowing users to learn at their own pace and convenience.

Scalability and Cost-Effectiveness: E-learning apps can be easily scaled to accommodate a large number of learners, making them a cost-effective training solution for businesses and educational institutions.

Improved Learning Outcomes: Engaging and interactive e-learning experiences can lead to better knowledge retention and improved learning outcomes compared to traditional methods.

Enhanced Brand Image: For businesses, a well-designed e-learning app can showcase your commitment to employee development and innovation, strengthening your brand image.

Ready to Master E-Learning App Development with Net-Craft.com?

At Net-Craft.com, your trusted Scottsdale App Development partner, we’re passionate about helping you create a successful e-learning app that empowers learners and drives positive outcomes.

Contact us today for a free consultation and let’s discuss how we can transform your vision into a reality. Together, we can leverage the power of e-learning to make education and training more accessible, engaging, and effective.

Content Source https://www.net-craft.com/blog/2024/03/22/mastering-e-learning-app-development-features-and-budget-unveiled-brought-to-you-by-scottsdale-app-development-leaders-net-craft-com/

#E-Learning App Development #Scottsdale App Development #E-Learning App #Best App Development Agency in Scottsdale

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verifiedcasinos · 1 month

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In today's world, online casinos have become the go-to destination for those seeking entertainment and wanting to win big. With the widespread availability of the internet, players from around the globe can now come together under one roof and enjoy thrilling games. But what makes online casinos so enticing, and how can you profit from them?

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monstersdownthepath · 1 year

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Monster Spotlight: Charau-Ka

CR 2

Chaotic Evil Small Humanoid

Inner Sea World Guide, pg. 308 (Pic from Adventure Path: Age of Ashes: Cult of Cinders, pg. 84)

Known across the continent of Garund and the surrounding lands by varying names--such as Man-Apes, Man-Eating Apes, or Demon Apes--the Charau-Ka were born ages ago in the deep jungle of the Mwangi Expanse through the power of Angazhan, the Ravenous King, the tyrannical Demon Lord who’s had a six-fingered hand dug into the Expanse since there was an Expanse. It’s said that Angazhan blessed his oldest cult with the power to reincarnate their fallen allies into a new and more powerful shape... and do the same to their fallen enemies, bringing them under the Ape King’s thrall. This gives Charau-Ka a terrifying quality found in few other living monsters; there’s a good chance any given Man-Ape your party encounters might have once been a human, perhaps even an adventurer just like them who sought to end the threat the Charau-Ka pose to civilization and wound up joining them.

At home in thick jungles, the 30ft climb speed and brachiating movements among the trees give the man-eaters incredible mobility in their natural environment, adding a degree of danger few low-level encounters can match. Frighteningly intelligent, especially in groups, Charau-Ka can rig their jungle homes with traps like drop nets, pitfalls, log traps, and weaponized venomous animals to whittle down a party that can’t fight back through the thick foliage or reliably fire into the upper branches from which the beast-men attack. Unless forced down from the trees, the branches are likely where they’ll stay, as they’re perfectly built to be menaces from a range.

Charau-Ka have Point-Blank Shot and Precise Shot to give their ranged attacks a bit of extra oomph, but they’re also Thrown Weapon Masters that gain Throw Anything as a bonus feat to assure they’re never unarmed. Whether it be proper weapons like slings, daggers, or throwing axes, or improvised weapons like dung, rocks, branches, or alchemist’s fire, Charau-Ka get a +1 to attack rolls when tossing anything around. Thrown Weapon Mastery also doubles the threat range of any thrown weapon they use, typically meaning they go to 19-20... but if they have a bag-full of daggers, that’s a bunch of throwables with a crit range of 16~20. A DM wishing to make them even more dangerous can arm them with exotic weapons like the starknife, as they’re able to take slightly more advantage of its intimidating x3 crit modifier.

Side note: Did you know the blowgun is classified as a thrown weapon? Not especially scary damage-wise, but its absolutely silent firing mechanism and decent range combined with a Charau-Ka’s stealth, ability to climb, and access to jungle toxins can make it one of the deadliest options they have for dealing with an adventuring party heading into their territory.

Being caught in melee is never an enviable position for anything with only 14 AC and no DR or elemental resistances, so the Demon Apes tend to stay as high as possible, but mistakes happen. Ambushes from the players happen, combat in an open area happens. That’s why Charau-Ka can enter a Shrieking Frenzy once per day as a free action, screaming and howling at the top of their lungs (to the point of failing all Stealth checks automatically) and preventing them from speaking or providing verbal components for their spells. What do they get for these restrictions? Haste for 3 entire rounds, bolstering their AC, their Reflex saves, and their DPS. Able and willing to use simple weapons, this means their full attack is two weapon attacks (1d4 or 1d6 +3) that likely carry some form of poison, and a bite (1d3+1) which carries the psychological damage of being bitten by an ape.

One Charau-Ka entering its frenzy can be dangerous. An entire group of them at once can quickly out-DPS parties hoping to shred through their meager HP reserves... And then there’s one simple, especially fun fact: Charau-Ka can and DO frequently take class levels in things like Fighter, Oracle, Ranger, Hunter, Slayer, and Barbarian. If you think a screaming monkey is bad already, imagine one under the effects of both Haste AND a Barbarian Rage, wielding a weapon far more formidable than a treebranch club or simple bone dagger.

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 1 to 5 #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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ankitaacadereality · 3 months

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Elevate Your Project with Cutting-Edge Animation Services

Today, partnering with an animation services company is a staple for video advertising - and there are a lot of good reasons why. For many, it has become a crucial part of their story because its cost is less than other forms of video marketing and animation’s capability to spark emotions.

But you might be asking yourself, if 2D Animation Service Providers are that crucial, why do I need an agency? Why can I do it myself?

What are the benefits of partnering with an animation services company?

Business can focus on creative imagination

Reduce prices for video-editing software

Capture the core of your brand

I. Cost and budget

When you partner with professional 2D animation solutions, you can be assured of top-quality solutions at affordable prices.

Ii. Personalize The Brand

If there’s something that 2D animation services provide that standard school video marketing doesn’t, it’s humanizing your brand. Whether it’s a 3D or 2D animation, everything about your video can be made to fit your business persona.

Another advantage of using animation solutions is that you can encrypt your brand.

A personalized brand can also lead to:

Brand Engagement

An animation services company can also help you soft-sell your services or products. Video animation allows us to digest content on visual and audio levels all at once, so it gives us an enhanced idea of the core message.

So whether you use 2D animation services for a company timeline or product launch, they can give life to concepts that viewers may struggle to engage with.

More visual prompts and less text can keep the audience engaged for a long period. Also, video animation especially appeals to every age. This is as it elicits a sense of reminiscence in every one of us. Ensure your animations are branded in your business colors

Why should your company use an animation services company?

Well, we’ve already drawn why animation solutions themselves are so beneficial for:

Brand awareness

Brand engagement

Embodying and personalizing your brand

As to why you should partner with an animation agency, there are a lot of reasons: 1. Kit and Software

If you don’t already own the best and most advanced animation software, then you might be shocked - animation software isn’t low-cost!

The good news is, an animation services company will have all of this organized, and they can hit the ground running, for instance, with whiteboard animation production. 2. Time

At the very least, it takes months to learn basic 2D animation services, whereas an animation agency will have a devoted professional with years of experience. And your time has just as much of a financial value as kit and software. 3. Investing In Assets

Video animation can also be an immortal video marketing asset.

This is because your animation can be used across different media. You could utilize an agency’s animation services to create an explainer video that could equally be used as a brand launch.

Plus, you can boost engagement by hosting it on your social channels, and video content is easily shareable.

Last but not least, 2D animation services can fit anywhere in your sales cone- whether that means entertaining existing ones or enticing new consumers.

4. Good Quality

An animation services company is going to be versed in styles ranging from whiteboard animation production and 2D through to 3D animated videos.

Making sure your data is mobile-friendly is key 5. Creativity

Like we said, once you’ve stopped trying to learn Maya and Blender, you can focus on what really matters - your meaning.

For best video animation to work, you need to translate your brand’s mission statement engagingly and concisely. And by outsourcing the complex elements to an animation agency, you can emphasize this part of the project.

Wrapping up

An animation services company can save you money and time, all while boosting your brand’s engagement. By outsourcing to an animation agency that can ensure the animation style you select reflects your brand vision, you can confirm that your brand’s story gets told right.

You can cut down on the up-front costs related to trying to learn animation yourself or hiring an animator. Plus, animation solutions can even be more affordable than live filming!

Animated video can flawlessly capture your business’s ideals with engaging and fun characters and content. With the rise in the status of animation for video advertising purposes, you’d be crazy to miss the boat.

#acadereality #animationservices #animationdevelopment #animationtechnology #2d #2Danimations #2Danimationservices #2Dproductionservices

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ginsherrywasathing · 6 months

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Senseless Acts of Love.

read on ao3 word count: 5.5k teen and up// mention of murder&suicide

"It had been three days. Three days since Gin had put a bullet through Miyano’s heart. Three days of bliss. But he couldn’t tell Sherry that. Instead, he extended his hand towards her face. Before his fingertips could even brush against her skin, though, she turned away, stepping out of his reach," or: Gin has to face the consequences of his own actions.

Gin’s eyes strayed from the road ahead towards his mobile phone the moment its display lit up with her name. She didn’t usually call him around this time of day, so he immediately knew her call for what it was. Gin took one last drag on his half-smoked cigarette. Admittedly, this particular call came in much earlier than he’d expected—but then again, Sherry had always been a smart one, quick to figure things out. It was a quality of hers he did not always appreciate.

Flicking his cigarette out the car window, Gin slowly picked up the ringing phone from the passenger seat; although he was prepared for what was to come, his thumb hovered over the answer button. It had only been three days since the death of Miyano Akemi. Three days since he’d removed the tumour that had viciously spread all the way through his life with deathly efficiency. Three days since he could finally breathe freely again. It had been a splendid time so far, a beautiful prelude to many good days yet to come. Never again would he have to worry about the treacherous ideas Miyano might plant into her sister’s pretty head. At last, he could rest assured that Sherry wouldn’t be gone by morning, swallowed up in her sister’s foolish suicide missions; spirited away to places even he couldn’t retrieve her from. What were a couple of hours of emotional labour when, from now on, he—they—could finally be at peace? With that in mind, and his usual greeting ready on his tongue, Gin eventually accepted the call.

“Why is she dead?”

Sherry’s collected, almost cold inquiry made him pause. Gin had expected tears, weeping and wailing; he’d been prepared to comfort a pain he didn’t know nor would ever experience himself. And yet… Had he been wrong about Sherry’s affection for her sister? Had he miscalculated the grief Miyano’s death would cause? For a moment, Gin entertained the idea that all the hard work he’d invested in getting rid of the cursed woman had been unnecessary in the long run—but no, it couldn't be. Too easily could he recall how Sherry’s face tended to soften whenever she spoke of her sister with honeyed warmth in her voice. Those rare little moments when she would let him in on memories he wasn’t part of.

Gin’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. No, being rid of Miyano was many things, but not a mistake. It was just that Sherry’s apparent lack of devastation threw him off, if only just. In the end, tears could always be dried with some pretty lies. This calmness of hers, however, was sharp, demanding truths he couldn’t possibly give. Ever. And yet it was no use playing dumb now, either. Forcing down the urge to light another cigarette, Gin wet his lips. He had to mind the road.

“I’m on my way to you. Talk to you then,” he said, cautiously matching the tone of her voice.

There was a moment of silence before Sherry ended the call without uttering another word. Gin figured he would have to adjust his plans.

He found her waiting inside her office at the lab about an hour later. Sherry sat at her desk, straight back turned towards him, hair messy from running her hand through it one too many times. Underneath her lab coat, she wore the same clothes from last night, picked up from his bedroom floor in a hurry earlier this morning. It was a familiar sight to him—Sherry being immersed in her work, getting the Organisation one step closer to their goal with every calculation and experiment she conducted.

Today, though, her computer screen remained noticeably dark; her paperwork neatly stacked an arm's-length away, obviously untouched. Except for the soft rise and fall of her shoulders, Sherry was eerily still. It didn’t seem like she’d even noticed his presence.

Silently, Gin took in the sight of her a while longer, unknowingly committing it to memory. Only much later, when the world had already been shaken to its core, would he come to realise that this very moment had been the silence before the storm.

Gin gave the door frame a soft knock upon finally entering the room. The young scientist stood at once, facing him. Although she was a little paler than usual, Sherry’s face didn’t betray any hint of emotion. Only her unexpectedly dry eyes were looking straight at him in a way that always made Gin’s skin crawl. It was a look Sherry usually reserved for particularly stubborn mathematical problems she was set out to solve, mercilessly dismantling them bit by bit until she found the solution. And no matter how complex the task was, she would get there one day, inevitably. Still hoping that day was somewhere in the far-off future, Gin evaded her gaze. He would have to tread very carefully.

First, he needed to know what information Sherry had so far. How had she found out about Miyano’s death in the first place? Had someone told her? What could she possibly already know? He’d actively kept her off the news for the past couple of days and he doubted that someone inside the lab had made the connection between the bank robber Hirota Masami and head scientist Miyano Shiho, let alone approached her about it. Knowing Sherry, she certainly already suspected the Organisation to be involved in Miyano’s death—but to what extent? Having too little information to assess the situation properly, Gin waited for her to break the silence first.

“How long have you known?” Sherry asked at last, again in that oddly detached manner of hers.

Gin stepped closer to her. That was an easy enough question. It had been three days. Three days since he’d put a bullet through Miyano’s heart. Three days of bliss. But he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he extended his hand towards Sherry’s face. Before his fingertips could even brush against her skin, though, she turned away, stepping out of his reach.

“How long?” she repeated, louder this time, but not less composed.

Miyano was dead. What did it matter how long he had or hadn’t known? It didn’t change a thing, did it? Compared to Sherry’s original Why is she dead? it was an uncharacteristically stupid question to begin with. Why had she changed her approach? Gin considered her blank face for a moment, then let his gaze slowly wander over her body. It was then that he finally saw it—the first sign of emotion. Sherry’s right hand, stiffly resting against her upper thigh, was trembling ever so slightly. Was it from held-back sadness? Anger? Both? What could possibly be going through her head?

“I found out yesterday,” Gin lied, deciding it was best to humour her for now.

Sherry gave a curt nod before putting another step between them. He watched as she leaned against the desk behind her, the way her fingers curled around the edges of the sterile tabletop on each side of her hips. Under different circumstances, it might’ve looked like an invitation, but Gin knew better than that today.

“You’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell me since then,” Sherry stated flatly, fixing him with that persistent stare of hers. The accusation in her words wasn’t lost on him.

They both knew she wasn’t wrong, of course. Between dinner and bed there had been some time to break the news to her, but telling her then would have ruined the mood for the evening quite a bit. Not that Gin had planned on telling her at all—at least not for a while. If things had gone according to his plans, Sherry would’ve first gotten worried about Miyano in a month or so, when one too many calls between the sisters had fallen through; when Miyano’s answering machine had been so full of unheard voice messages that it couldn’t have recorded any more. When Miyano would’ve failed to contact Sherry for Christmas, New Year’s and eventually her birthday... Only when Sherry’s worry would have turned into outright distress would he have offered to inquire about Miyano’s whereabouts—and ultimately find out about her tragic, unforeseeable death. By then, Sherry would’ve come to terms with reality, grieve for a little while and eventually go on with life. Her untimely confrontation with her sister’s death was indeed an unfortunate turn of events…

Since Sherry couldn’t back off further, Gin dared another step towards her, then another. She lifted her chin, still watching him like a hawk, reminding him that he was under close observation. Now that Sherry was back within reach, Gin let his knuckles run gently down her cheek, if only to have her ever-alert eyes stray from his for but one second. Sherry didn’t turn away from the gesture, nor did she lower her gaze. He could tell that his touch against her heated skin wasn’t as welcome as usual, but it would have to make do for now.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Gin admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind Sherry’s ear. The best lies were closest to the truth.

She nodded again, lips pressed into a thin line. They remained like this for a moment, until her body eventually shifted away from his touch, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly in the empty air between them.

“So you just let me find out like this?”

A loud rustle went through the room as Sherry shoved a bunch of paper against Gin’s chest. It only took him one look to recognise yesterday’s newspaper, crumpled and stained as if someone had pulled it from the trash. He groaned inwardly; Miyano’s face had made the front page that day.

“Why?” Sherry demanded, arms crossing over her chest.

Why, indeed. Why did Miyano have to let a rat sneak on board only to then try and jump ship with it? Why had Miyano, unimportant as she’d been, done anything to endanger her sister; ruin the Organisation’s uttermost goal? Why had this traitor—his thief, this witch!—had to exist in the first place and make Gin’s life this damn hard?

Gin grabbed the newspaper, pretending to read the front page as if he hadn’t seen it before. Sherry was studying him like a tome, looking for something—anything—that might give him away. She would find nothing; he wouldn’t give her anything to doubt him. When Gin looked up at her again, he finally met her gaze.

“There was some talk that she wanted to desert…” he mused.

Now it was his turn to observe Sherry closely. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but he knew from experience that blood tended to be thicker than water. Who knew… maybe Sherry hadn’t been as ignorant of her sister’s plans as he’d gambled on. Maybe she’d long been onto them—Miyano and him—playing dumb, now that her way out of the Organisation had gone up in flames. It would even explain this peculiar behaviour of hers, this false calmness; maybe Sherry had—

The genuine surprise on Sherry’s face lifted a long-accumulated weight off Gin’s shoulders. She really hadn’t suspected a thing. And how could he have doubted her? Sherry was a woman of the Organisation—his woman, no less. He shouldn’t ever have questioned her loyalties!

Gin watched as Sherry opened her mouth only to close it again, struggling for words. It didn’t make sense to her. It was apparent that no matter how she twisted and turned his words inside her head, she couldn’t put the puzzle together. Sherry’s eyes darted away from his, looking around as if the answers to her questions were written somewhere on the walls of this small office. Gin could almost hear the gears turning high-speed inside her head.

“She…” Sherry reached for the dirty newspaper in his hands, but eventually dropped her arm before her fingers could brush against his sleeve. “She wouldn’t have left.”

Gin’s heart skipped a beat hearing her voice begin to shake. How he wanted to embrace her then; dearest Sherry, naïve little pet. If only she knew! All this time he’d kept her safe from Miyano’s lies and intrigues, her vicious attempts to get them both killed. A part of him wanted Sherry to know, to appreciate what he’d done. The other part of him—the one guided by professional instinct—thankfully kept his mouth sealed shut. As long as he lived, Sherry would never know what had truly happened to Miyano Akemi.

Gin took one last look at the utter confusion written all over Sherry’s face before laying his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her against his side. Instantly, she nestled her cheek against him; Gin could tell her breathing only remained somewhat even by years' worth of hardened discipline—but discipline only reached so far. Ever so slowly, Sherry began to tremble. Sweet, precious little thing—she would break any moment now. In the end, Gin hadn’t been wrong about Sherry’s affection for her sister, the devastation Miyano’s death caused. Satisfied, he let his chin rest on Sherry’s head, slowly breathing in the familiar silken scent of her hair.

“She wouldn’t have left without telling me, wouldn’t she?” Sherry asked almost timidly, her question muffled by the fabric of his coat.

Had it been anyone else but her, Gin would’ve thought this beg for reassurance pathetic. Today he would indulge her, though, because Sherry had lost the only person in the world bound to her by blood—for some time, at least. But Gin would make it all better, he promised, silently. He could make it better—fuck, he already had made it better! Hadn’t it been for his foresight, Sherry would be lying next to her sister, abandoned in some dark morgue, her body forever unclaimed. He’d saved Sherry from that very fate. Now that she was all his, she would never be alone, never have to worry. Gin pulled Sherry even closer, basked in her warmth. He’d done everything right—he had been in the right. Gin pressed a kiss against the crown of Sherry’s head. He had saved her.

“You mean that woman wouldn’t have left without you.”

Later—in those too long, half-sober nights—Gin would try and fail to reconstruct his catastrophic blunder time and time again. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? What had gotten into him? Why hadn’t he been more careful? The words had escaped him by accident, they’d never been meant for Sherry’s keen ears. He’d made a mistake, he’d—

Gin could feel Sherry’s body go rigid against him the moment the words had left his mouth. He, too, stilled. There were a few seconds of heavy silence between them before Sherry withdrew from his embrace, taking her warmth with her. He’d fucked up.

“What are you implying?”

Watching Sherry’s eyes narrow, Gin weighed his options, fast.

“Well, we can be glad nobody thinks you’re involved in this,” he said, frowning as if she were foolish for not seeing the issue herself.

Gin hoped it would be enough to put some appropriate concern into her; a reminder to be extra careful for a while. Yet, the only thing Sherry did was tilt her head. That was how Gin knew that the only thing he’d given her was a new problem to deconstruct.

“Why would they think that? What do I have to do with—”

Sherry’s face turned ashen as some sort of realisation struck her. Maybe she’d finally understood that nobody had given a shit about Miyano as long as the woman had kept her mouth shut. Nobody would’ve even cared had she just run off. Miyano had known next to nothing about the Organisation, she had been nothing. Now that she was gone, her absence couldn’t even be felt. Had she only been willing to leave Sherry behind, she could’ve lived a normal life. But Miyano had chosen differently.

“Tell me what really happened.”

Whatever form of composure Sherry had mustered so far crumbled before Gin’s eyes, and if she’d been suspicious before, she was now positively alarmed. Watching the hurried rise and fall of Sherry’s chest, Gin could feel a massive headache incoming. He’d been a fool for thinking he was anywhere near prepared for this conversation.

“I don’t know. I’m going to ask around—”

“Liar,” she hissed, suddenly, deep blue eyes round with a temper he hadn’t seen all too often before. He only knew it was no use speaking to her like this.

Exasperated, Gin turned away from Sherry, crumpling the old newspaper in his hand. He pointedly ignored Miyano’s coffee-stained face that somehow still managed to stare back at him. Even from the grave did this pest of a woman make his blood boil, but he couldn’t let his anger get the best of him now. He needed to clear his head, regroup. At the moment, the most important thing was to appease Sherry. It would be best to get her home, sit her down in peace like he should’ve done from the beginning. Gin could just put the blame on that rat Akai—it probably wasn’t even too far off from the truth, he was the root of this misery after all. It was as good a plan as any; if he put his mind on it Sherry would believe—

The noise of breaking glass ripped Gin from his thoughts. He’d only let Sherry out of his sight for one second, but one damn second was all it took for hell to break loose. Later, Gin would identify this amateurish mindlessness of his as his biggest mistake, the point where it had all gone wrong. He should’ve never let go of her.

Gin turned just in time to see Sherry swipe her paperwork off the desk. Folders and loose pages went flying about the room, slowly floating down, down, down, coming to a halt on the floor where the heavy computer monitor already lay broken. Gin was on Sherry in an instant, grabbing her by the upper arm.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?!”

She struggled against his grip, which earned her little more than an irritated look. Sherry stood no chance against him, but that didn’t keep her from thrashing about.

“Tell me what happened or I swear I’m tearing this damn lab down,” she spat, reaching for any object she could get hold of with her free arm.

Even without the Petri dishes shattering somewhere on the floor behind Gin, it was evident that Sherry meant what she’d said, which did nothing to ease the building pressure behind his temples. Neither did the burst samples around them, for that matter—he figured their fumes weren’t all too healthy to breathe in. With more force than strictly necessary, Gin dragged Sherry out of the office into the too-brightly lit hallway.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” he glared, caging her between the wall and himself.

“Tell me,” Sherry repeated, either unimpressed by or simply ignorant of his rising anger, “Just tell me what happened!”

It was as if the woman didn’t even hear him! Gin had half the mind telling her right then if she so insisted. He would tell Sherry how it had been her fault Miyano was dead, that all this trouble could’ve been avoided hadn’t she been so attached to her sister—they would see how fast that shut her up… Instead of saying even more things he might come to regret, though, Gin took a deep breath. At least one of them needed to keep a cool head.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see a small group of scientists gather down the hallway. Like rats they’d crawled out of their little holes, curiously looking over at their head scientist and the darkly clad man they generally knew to avoid. The last thing Gin needed was some no-name lab rats to go tattle about Sherry making a scene, but what could he do? Gin considered her for a second, her clammy forehead, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The woman had gone mad! Like a wild animal, she pressed her back against the wall, unsuccessfully trying to push him away. Gin needed her calm. Now.

Sherry’s hands were ice-cold to the touch when his fingers curled around both her delicate wrists, holding her arms still. She wheezed, glassy eyes linked with his. It was as if she didn’t see anything but him.

“Why did nee-chan have to die?” she demanded again, her voice growing hoarse, never stopping her struggle against his grip.

Even now Miyano was the only thing on her mind. Gin was stunned at how one single death could arouse such a hefty reaction from someone. Clearly, Sherry was overreacting. She was making this so much harder than it needed to be. She was… in shock. The moment this occurred to Gin, he could clearly see the signs. He’d been a fool for not connecting the dots earlier. But now that he had identified the issue, he could work with it. Everything was going to be fine.

Bit by bit, Gin eased his grip on her wrists. It was a sign of goodwill on his part, and to his satisfaction, Sherry calmed down enough for him to lean closer without catching her elbow with his face. Sherry looked at him, expectantly.

“Listen to me,” Gin said gently, enclosing her hands with his to bring some warmth back into her fingers. Any hint of his irritation was hidden behind a mask of understanding, sympathy, even. “You need to get yourself together until we get home….”

It was no use. The second Sherry realised he wouldn’t tell her anything on the spot, she shoved against him again, viciously enough to force him a step back.

“Tell me!” she cried out.

Gin’d had enough of her temper tantrum, then. Grabbing her by the wrist, he pulled Sherry aimlessly down the hallway, away from prying eyes.

“If you don’t stop this nonsense at once, I won’t be able to help you,” he tried again after they’d rounded a corner. This time Gin wasn’t able to hide his frustration any longer. Why couldn’t Sherry see that he only wanted to protect her, if need be from herself?

“I don’t need your help, I need the truth!”

Sherry couldn’t handle the truth. This crazy behaviour of hers was confirmation enough, and it was about high time she came to the same realisation. Gin stopped abruptly, never releasing Sherry’s wrist. Like the sensible person he knew Sherry to be, she finally stopped struggling against his grip. They stared at each other for a moment, both somewhat out of breath.

“It’s confidential,” Gin urged in a tone that marked the discussion as over.

Sherry scoffed, clearly waiting for Gin to say more. When he didn’t, her tensed face relaxed a little, although her lower lip started to quiver. Coyly, she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“Tell me what happened,” Sherry breathed, reaching with her free hand for his. “Please.”

Wasn’t she a crafty little vixen? Gin might be fond of her little games, that was no secret, but that didn’t mean he would fall for some girl’s tepid manipulation.

“They don’t want you to know,” he snapped, pulling his hand away.

Sherry’s eyes darkened at once. Whatever suspicion she’d had, he’d just confirmed it.

“Then they can go to hell.”

Gin let go of her then, taking a step back. His eyes only left Sherry’s glassy stare when he took an inconspicuous look around, listening into the silence. They were still alone, unheard. But even now they couldn’t afford to say shit like that; Gin didn’t—shouldn’t—need to remind her of that. Sherry had behaved like a proper maniac the moment he’d stepped foot into her lab, but now she was about to overstep a line. Once she’d crossed it, there was little he could do for her.

“Watch out, my dear,” Gin said, his voice much calmer than he actually felt. “They might start to question your loyalties after all.”

Sherry had the cheek to not even look sorry for what she’d said, and that’s how Gin knew she’d really lost her mind. Holding his breath, he waited for her to take her words back. She did quite the opposite, though.

“They might be right to do so,” was all she spat.

It was enough.

Sherry gasped in surprise when Gin’s fingers locked around her jaw the moment the words had left her mouth, yanking her so close towards him that his nose almost brushed against hers. His voice dropped dangerously low.

“This is treason.”

To her credit, Sherry didn’t back off once, didn’t even fight against the firm hold he had on her.

Unfazed, she stared straight into his eyes. “So be it.”

Gin counted his heartbeats. One, two, three, he waited for Sherry to finally back down, apologise for what she’d said and done. It was one last chance for her to come to her senses. Saying she didn’t mean it was all she had to do. Everything else could easily be fixed. But Sherry didn’t say anything at all.

Gin nodded his head, understanding that she’d made her decision.

“As you wish.”

Exhaustion had long caught up on Gin when he descended the stairs to the lab’s boiler room with heavy steps. While he had expected this day to be somewhat challenging, he hadn’t reckoned it to turn into a straight-up disaster. It had taken professional backup from Vodka to encourage the other scientists to keep their mouths shut about Sherry’s little faux pas, while the woman in question, for her part, had reinforced her unfortunate decisions with persistent silence—which had actually been for the best, Gin supposed. There was only so much he could choose to not hear, and Sherry had said rather enough as it was. In fact, silent or not, he hadn’t been able to even look at her without fuming. Even now, hours later, the unnerving air of indifference that had surrounded her still infuriated him—mostly because Gin had no clue how to keep the woman in check should she still prove unreasonable. It was a perfect predicament. Same as earlier, the idea of threatening Sherry into compliance seemed rather contra-productive in her already unstable condition and Gin didn’t want to burn any bridges. He could only hope that his short-term solution had been enough to make her come back to her senses. And he’d had to put his foot down somehow, hadn’t he? Now that Sherry had revealed her potential to act up, he simply had to make her understand the severity of her actions, lest she didn’t take him nor the Organisation any seriously.

Gin’s migraine flared up when he thought about how Sherry had walked down the same set of stairs mere hours ago, prim and proper like a little doll, and just as mute. She’d acted as if the entire situation was none of her concern, either not caring about any consequences or trusting that Gin would clean up after her mess. He didn’t know which option bothered him more and he was, quite frankly, too tired to ponder on it.

However, after everything was said and done, it was as true as ever that Gin still wanted to protect Sherry. He’d come so far, had already eliminated the biggest threat to their lives—their future. He couldn’t give up on Sherry now, not over something that could still be fixed. Punishment, unsavoury as it might have been, was just a necessity to keep her safe.

Leaving Sherry in the boiler room to reflect on her actions had been the right call, that Gin was certain of. In places like that, one could easily come to figure out what really mattered in life, especially when chained to a wall… which Gin had only done for her own safety, of course. Sherry’s calmness was not to be underestimated, as he had come to learn. And if she needed to be restrained to not hurt herself, so be it. That the click of the handcuff closing around Sherry’s slim wrist still echoed in Gin’s ears didn’t matter at all. It had been inevitable. It would be okay. It had to be.

Gin reached the bottom of the stairs not knowing what to expect to find within the dark boiler room. The best case scenario was a reasonable and collected Sherry, ready to be guided back home. That was why Gin wasn’t worried when nothing but silence greeted him from behind the door to Sherry’s temporary dwellings. In fact, he welcomed the silence as he unlocked the heavy metal door. And even if Sherry had spent the last hours wreaking havoc in the protective isolation of her prison, she surely would have been exhausted by now. In either case, silence was good. Silence was safe.

So why was ice-cold dread winding its way up Gin’s spine?

It took him a moment to realise it wasn’t just silence that made him hesitate to enter the room. Rather, it was the lack of human sound whatsoever, the quiet of the dead that Gin knew all too well. It was the palpable absence of Sherry’s presence.

Stiffly, Gin stared into the sparsely lit space. Sherry’s name weighed heavily on his tongue although it remained unuttered. What if he didn’t receive an answer to his calling? What would he find around the corner? Scolding himself a fool, Gin didn’t allow the images inside his head to take on proper shape and stepped forward. There was no way Sherry could have escaped the room. There was no way she could have done the unspeakable. There was no way she wasn’t within these walls. A couple more steps and Gin would find Sherry sitting on the floor, overcome by exhaustion; it had been a long day.

And Gin’s day would be even longer still.

The small water bottle he’d brought fell to the floor, disturbing the silence. Against all odds, there was no Sherry waiting for Gin where he’d left her. Not at all. In fact, the only sign that she’d ever even been there were the handcuffs hanging empty around the same pipe Vodka had locked them around hours ago—that and the faintest scent of Sherry’s perfume that still lingered in the air, taunting Gin further.

Dumbfounded, Gin looked around, but no matter how hard he looked, the room remained empty. Gin wet his lips, listening.

“Shiho?”

As he’d feared, silence was his only answer.

Gin’s fingers curled around the steering wheel as he accelerated the car, racing through rain-drenched streets. There had been nothing in that boiler room. Nothing. Not even a hint of where Sherry might’ve gone. It was as if the woman had simply vanished, dissolved into thin air! Taking an intense drag from his cigarette, Gin went over his facts again, coming to the same conclusion over and over again. Sherry’s absence was impossible.

Gin could swear the handcuffs that had shackled her hadn’t been tampered with, and even if Sherry had somehow managed to get them off, there had been nowhere for her to go. There were only two exits from the boiler room—Gin had made it a point to check the building’s blueprints himself. There was no way Sherry could’ve left via either of them, not when one was a trash chute no grown woman would ever fit through and the other a locked metal door to which only Gin had keys. And yet, as impossible as it was, Sherry was indeed gone.

Gin dared a look at his watch. He’d given himself another hour to find Sherry by himself, but he had a feeling that hour would likely turn into the entire night. There were still a few more places he could go to look for her, he reassured himself. As of now, nothing was lost. But still, he had to admit that Tokyo was a very big city and Sherry a rather small woman…and if Gin hadn’t found her by morning, she wasn’t the only one who was well and truly fucked. With a trembling hand, Gin lit another cigarette, cursing foully. He was fooling himself. This was bad; the worst possible outcome. He’d lost the Organisation’s head scientist and didn’t even know how it had happened because Sherry couldn’t have left that damn room in one piece!

Gin tapped his fingers against the gear lever. Of course, he’d considered other options since he’d left the lab. No matter how he twisted and turned the facts inside his head, Sherry couldn’t have escaped the boiler room, not on her own—which only left one more possibility open. Someone had helped her. But who? Who could’ve possibly stolen her from right under Gin’s nose? And how would he get her back if that was the case?

…And how could he protect a traitor from the Organisation’s wrath? Did he even want to protect Sherry if she’d abandoned—

Gin slowed down. There was no use catastrophizing. One way or another, he would find Sherry before word about her absence got out. Everything else could be sorted out after that. He only had to focus, keep his eyes open. It would be fine.

Gin cursed again. The heavy rain made it almost impossible to see the road ahead.

#ginsherry #ginshiho #ginxsherry #ginxshiho #detective conan #ff #emi writes #nothing hits quite like writing for niche ships #thoughts and all that are always appreciated

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taxibookingapplikeuberclone · 8 months

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How to Build a Taxi Booking App Like inDriver, OLA, and Uber Clone App

In today's fast-paced world, convenience is key when it comes to transportation. Taxi booking apps like inDriver, OLA, and Uber have revolutionized the way people get around. If you're looking to join the ride-hailing industry and create your own successful taxi booking app, you're in the right place. In this article, we'll guide you through the process step by step.

Understanding the Market

Before diving into app development, it's crucial to conduct thorough market research. This research will help you identify your target audience, understand their needs, and analyze your competitors. Here's how you can get started:

Market Analysis

Begin by researching the ride-hailing market in your target region. Identify key players, market trends, and potential gaps in services.

Target Audience

Determine your app's target audience. Are you catering to everyday commuters, tourists, or a specific niche? Understanding your users' preferences is essential.

Building the App

Now that you have a clear understanding of the market, it's time to start building your taxi booking app. This process involves several steps:

Feature List

Create a detailed list of features your app will offer. This should include user registration, driver profiles, GPS tracking, payment processing, and more.

Technology Stack

Choose the right technology stack for your app. Consider whether you want to build a native app for iOS and Android or opt for a cross-platform solution.

Design and User Experience

Invest in an intuitive and user-friendly design. The app's interface should be easy to navigate for both passengers and drivers.

Development Team

Assemble a skilled development team or hire a reputable app development company to bring your vision to life.

Testing and Quality Assurance

Thoroughly test the app for bugs, glitches, and security vulnerabilities. Ensure it functions seamlessly before launch.

Deployment

Release your app on app stores like Google Play Store and Apple App Store. Optimize your app listing with relevant keywords and appealing visuals.

Legal and Regulatory Considerations

Compliance with local regulations is essential in the ride-hailing industry. Be sure to:

Obtain Necessary Permits

Check with local authorities to understand the permits and licenses required to operate a taxi booking service.

Data Privacy

Implement robust data privacy measures to protect user information and comply with data protection laws.

Marketing and Promotion

Once your app is live, you'll need to market it effectively to attract users:

Digital Marketing

Utilize digital marketing strategies like search engine optimization (SEO), social media marketing, and online advertising to reach a wider audience.

Incentives and Referral Programs

Encourage users to refer friends and family by offering incentives and referral bonuses.

Scaling and Expansion

As your app gains popularity, consider expanding your services:

Geographic Expansion

Explore opportunities to launch your app in neighboring cities or countries.

Additional Services

Introduce additional services such as food delivery, package delivery, or carpooling to diversify your offerings.

Conclusion

Building a taxi booking app like inDriver, OLA, and Uber requires careful planning, a dedicated team, and a commitment to delivering a top-notch user experience. By following the steps outlined in this article, you can embark on your journey to creating a successful taxi booking app.

FAQs

How much does it cost to develop a taxi booking app?

The cost of app development can vary significantly depending on factors like features, complexity, and the development team's rates. It's best to get a personalized quote from app developers.

Is it essential to have a mobile app for both iOS and Android?

While having apps for both platforms is ideal for reaching a broader audience, you can start with one platform and expand later based on user demand.

What is the key to attracting drivers to my platform?

Offer competitive commissions, a user-friendly driver app, and efficient payment processing to attract and retain drivers.

How can I ensure passenger safety in my app?

Implement background checks for drivers, allow users to share ride details with friends, and incorporate a ratings and reviews system for drivers.

What are some emerging trends in the ride-hailing industry?

Some emerging trends include electric and autonomous vehicles, eco-friendly options, and improved AI for better route optimization and user experience.

#uber clone #ola clone #indriver clone #taxi app development

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shubhamjain83 · 8 months

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Redesigning Your Website: When and How to Give Your Site a Fresh Look

In today's fast-paced digital landscape, a website's design can quickly become outdated, leading to poor user experiences and missed opportunities. Redesigning your website not only revitalizes its appearance but also enhances its functionality and user engagement. In this article, we'll explore the crucial aspects of when and how to give your site a fresh look, ensuring that your online presence stays relevant and captivating.

Introduction

Your website serves as your digital storefront, and just like a physical store, it needs a makeover from time to time. Redesigning your website isn't just a cosmetic choice. There are a number of companies that offer brand marketing services which is a strategic move that can significantly impact your online success. A fresh website look can improve user engagement, boost conversions, and align your brand with current design trends.

Signs It's Time for a Redesign

Outdated Design Elements: If your website's design looks like a relic from a bygone era, it's a clear sign that it's time for a redesign. Old-fashioned visuals can discourage users from exploring further.

Poor User Experience and Navigation: Difficult navigation and confusing layouts frustrate visitors. A redesign can streamline the user experience, making it easier for users to find what they need.

Mobile Responsiveness Issues: With mobile devices dominating web traffic, a mobile-responsive design is essential. If your site isn't mobile-friendly, you're likely losing potential customers.

High Bounce Rates and Low Engagement: Analytics revealing high bounce rates and low engagement suggest that users aren't finding your content appealing. A redesign can reinvigorate interest.

Changing Brand Identity or Goals: If your brand's identity or goals have evolved, your website should reflect these changes. A mismatch between your site's appearance and your brand message can be confusing to visitors.

Planning Your Redesign

A successful redesign starts with careful planning:

Setting Clear Goals and Objectives: Determine what you want to achieve with the redesign. Is it to increase conversions, improve user experience, or refresh your brand?

Researching Current Design Trends: Stay updated on the latest design trends that resonate with your target audience.

Analyzing Competitor Websites: Learn from your competitors' successes and shortcomings to gain a competitive edge.

Creating a Realistic Budget and Timeline: Redesigns can be complex projects. Set a budget and timeline that aligns with your goals and resources.

Steps in the Redesign Process

A well-structured redesign process ensures a smooth transition:

Content Audit and Inventory: Assess your existing content. What needs to be updated, revised, or removed?

Information Architecture and Site Mapping: Plan the new site structure and organize content logically.

Wireframing and Prototyping: Create wireframes and prototypes to visualize the new layout and user flow.

Designing Visual Elements: Choose colors, typography, and imagery that reflect your brand and resonate with your audience.

Development and Coding: Bring the design to life with coding and development work.

Testing and Quality Assurance: Thoroughly test the website for functionality, responsiveness, and compatibility.

Content Migration: Move your revised or new content onto the redesigned site.

SEO and Redesign

Don't let a redesign negatively impact your SEO efforts:

Importance of Preserving SEO: Maintain your website's SEO value during the transition.

Implementing 301 Redirects: Redirect old URLs to new ones to preserve search rankings.

Updating Metadata and Optimizing Content: Refresh meta titles, descriptions, and headers while optimizing content for SEO.

Checking for Broken Links and Crawl Errors: Ensure that the redesign doesn't introduce broken links or crawl errors.

User Experience (UX) Enhancement

A key goal of redesigning your website is to create a seamless and delightful user experience:

Improving Site Navigation and Structure: A well-organized navigation menu and clear site structure make it easy for users to find what they're looking for.

Focusing on Mobile Responsiveness: More users access the web from mobile devices than ever before. Prioritize responsive design to ensure a consistent experience across all screen sizes.

Increasing Page Loading Speed: Slow-loading pages can lead to high bounce rates. Optimize images, use efficient coding practices, and leverage caching to improve speed.

Incorporating Accessible Design Elements: An inclusive website accommodates all users, including those with disabilities. Consider factors like color contrast, text size, and alt text for images.

Maintaining Consistency with Branding

A website redesign should align with your brand's identity and messaging:

Aligning Website Design with Brand Identity: The visual elements of your website, such as color schemes, fonts, and imagery, should be consistent with your brand's overall identity.

Updating Logos, Color Schemes, and Imagery: Refresh these elements to match your evolving brand image.

Consistent Messaging and Tone: Ensure that the language and tone used in your content remain consistent with your brand's voice.

Content Strategy for the Redesigned Site

Content is at the heart of your website. Here's how to approach it during a redesign:

Assessing Existing Content: Determine what content is still relevant and what needs updating or removal.

Identifying Gaps and Opportunities: Analyze your content to identify areas where new, engaging content could be added.

Creating New, Engaging Content: Craft compelling copy, create informative blog posts, and incorporate multimedia elements like videos and infographics.

Incorporating Multimedia Elements: Visual content can enhance user engagement and convey information more effectively.

Launching and Promoting the Redesigned Site

As the redesign nears completion, it's time to plan the launch:

Pre-launch Testing and Final Checks: Thoroughly test the redesigned site to ensure all elements are functioning correctly.

Announcing the Redesign to Your Audience: Build excitement among your audience by announcing the upcoming redesign through your various communication channels.

Leveraging Social Media and Email Marketing: Utilize social media posts and email newsletters to promote the launch and drive traffic to the new site.

Monitoring User Feedback and Analytics Post-Launch: Pay close attention to user feedback and track website analytics to identify any issues that might arise after the launch.

Post-Launch Analysis and Continuous Improvement

A successful website redesign is an ongoing process:

Tracking User Behavior and Engagement: Use analytics tools to monitor user behavior, such as which pages they visit most and how long they stay on your site.

A/B Testing Different Design Elements: Experiment with different design elements to see what resonates best with your audience.

Collecting User Feedback for Future Iterations: Encourage users to provide feedback on the new design and consider their suggestions for future improvements.

Regularly Updating Content and Design: The digital landscape evolves quickly. Regularly update your content and design to stay current and relevant.

Conclusion

Redesigning your website is a significant undertaking that can yield substantial benefits. By recognizing the signs that it's time for a redesign and following a well-structured process, you can create a website that captures attention, engages users, and achieves your goals. Embrace the opportunity to refresh your online presence and ensure that your website remains a powerful tool for your brand's success with Infiniqe Marketing Services.

#branding #graphic design #logo design #marketing #ecommerce #rebranding #marketing services

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