Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: Small Heroes

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The questions were about what you would expect; who was I working for, how many of us were there, who was supplying us, and so on. I didn't have the heart to tell them that each of the Gundam pilots was working independently, that there was no common plan of attack, and that there was no one organization behind us. Well, that and I didn't feel like ratting out Howard and the Sweepers to them.
Still, for all that they asked the right questions, they didn't seem to really care whether I gave them answers or not. They seemed perfectly happy just kicking me around, not particularly fazed by even my best snarky comebacks. It occurred to me that they were waiting on something; what, I didn't know. Orders from on high, maybe. They didn't seem the types to think for themselves.
My suspicions were confirmed when, after a few hours, another player entered the scene. It was an older man, older than most I had seen in the Specials in fact; he had an air about him that practically reeked 'military intelligence.' He wasn't wearing insignia, but I could guess from the unobtrusive little drone that trailed after him that he was a pretty big cheese in these parts.
It was after that things started getting really interesting. He asked a few perfunctory questions, not seeming at all surprised by my refusal to answer. Then he told them to pack up and move. Almost as soon as we had gotten out into the hallway, though, he ordered me blindfolded. I wasn't too bothered; it would make escaping a little more difficult, if I couldn't come up with a layout for the base, but I was getting bored of seeing the same metal corridors and stark white walls anyway.
When we got to wherever the hell we were going, the goons tied me into what felt like a modified dentist's chair and then moved away. Someone stretched my arm out, palm up, and strapped it down so tight I couldn't move. I considered fighting, but, hell, I was already covered in bruises and it wouldn't make much difference in the end, would?
If I'd known what was coming, I sure as hell would have fought harder, but they would have gotten what they wanted eventually anyway. I felt something sharp prick my wrist and cursed silently; drugs were a bitch to fight with. But they could be overcome. For all its centuries of trying, mankind had yet to perfect a "truth serum" and G had trained me to deal with everything that came even remotely close.
They asked me the questions again, and I told them to fuck off, again. It was almost expected. Though I couldn't see, I heard someone moving on my left side, and the hum of heavy machinery switching to life. What I was not expecting was the