Vous vous trompez
L'homme barbu sifflait, son visage contorsait dans une image de colère alors qu'il se levait de son siège dans le mess, essuyait un peu de sauce spaghetti de ses lèvres, et claquait sa fourchette sur la table en métal.
J'ai dit... vous. Oui. La vivacité de ses paroles fut suivie d'une langue percée qui s'étirait sur l'homme debout à quelques pieds de la fille.
Un sourire aux dents jaunes s'est formé à travers le visage de l'homme tandis qu'il s'approchait lentement jusqu'à quelques centimètres de son visage, son souffle d'ail pulvérulent la poussant à treuilter.
Les deux mains enroulées dans les poings, et un faible grognement guttural émanait de la gorge de l'homme.
Vic sourit, appréciant la montée qu'elle suscita du type connu sous le nom de Curtis, un homme qui lui donna tout autant de merde, sinon plus, au quotidien. Il ne l'aimait pas pour ses propres raisons, mais elle savait que son problème principal était qu'elle n'était pas comme eux. Et pourtant elle était d'accord avec ça de toute façon.
"Tu vas me frapper Curtis?" Elle a dit après quelques instants, levant un sourcil comme s'il était intrigué par son geste menaçant. Ou, t'es trop nul pour frapper une fille? Oh attends, je sais ce que c'est... Elle a ronflé, clairement amusée par le fait qu'elle savait quelque chose sur l'homme plus âgé devant elle. Tu vois, tu as déjà été sur cette route avant de ne pas t'en avoir parlé? Et la dernière fois que tu as frappé une femme dans ce trou de merde qu'on appelle une maison, tu as été jeté dans une minuscule cage pour quoi? Un mois?
Curtis s'est serré les dents à mesure que sa respiration s'alourdissait. C'est bon. Vous êtes relativement nouveau ici et clairement avoir quelques vis lâches dans cette jolie tête, donc je vais vous donner le bénéfice du doute et laisser glisser.
« Mais pourquoi? » Vic a plié sur le banc sur lequel l'homme était précédemment assis, la faisant regarder le visage en colère de son adversaire alors qu'il regardait par les yeux qui pouvaient prendre feu à tout moment. Je t'aime bien Curtis. Je pense que vous êtes l'un des seuls tireurs droit autour de cette décharge... Même si vous sentez comme un chien mouillé roulé en elle, c'est de la merde la plupart du temps.
Il y avait, ce que l'on pouvait considérer, un moment maladroit de silence entre les deux sauf pour l'ambiance des autres mangeant et bavardant à d'autres tables, la plupart du temps sans se soucier de ce qui se passait entre eux, à l'exception du soldat qui se tenait près de l'autre bout du gâchis en train de regarder toute la matière.
Le garde a crié, faisant éclater Curtis son attention vers la source de la voix de l'autre côté de la pièce. Assieds-toi, finis ton repas, et laisse-la tranquille!
L'homme barbu a rétréci les yeux pendant qu'il regardait la garde un moment avant de retourner son attention à Vic, secouant la tête dans l'incrédulité et permettant à son expression colère de s'estomper alors qu'il commençait à marcher au-delà où la fille était assise. J'ai perdu mon appétit de toute façon...
Il s'est soudainement arrêté quelques pieds d'elle et s'est retourné, une expression quizicale plâtré sur son visage. Alors, de quoi m'accusiez-vous d'être si malhonnête?
C'est quoi, ça? Elle l'a regardé et a lâché. Je n'ai aucune idée vraiment, mais je suis sûr que vous avez eu tort à propos d'une tonne de choses dans votre vie pathétique et abusive, donc j'ai pensé que j'ai pointé que pour vous au cas où ce n'était pas évident.
Il a grondé, presque prêt à se lancer sur elle avec toute la bête intérieure qu'il a pu rassembler juste pour déchiqueter ce regard pulpeux de son visage. Mais il ne l'a pas fait, sachant qu'elle le jouait sans doute pour un idiot, considérant qu'elle était l'une des filles avec lesquelles il était devenu violent, et elle savait qu'une autre explosion comme celle-ci le ferait probablement exiler ou simplement tuer par l'un des officiers, ou peut-être même le sergent-major Mitchell elle-même.
Il m'a enfin dit avec un gribouillis, sachant qu'elle n'était pas une grande fan de quelqu'un qui s'adressait à elle de cette manière, et il s'est retourné pour sortir du mess.
Vic s'assit là un moment, le regardant comme il partait, avant de glisser vers son plateau de nourriture et de ramasser à travers n'importe quelles viandes et légumes au hasard semblaient encore comestibles, ainsi que de fourrer un biscuit d'avoine à moitié mangé dans sa poche de veste pour plus tard.
Vic Hëlix
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“I may look calm, but in my mind I have killed you like ten times already.”
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Really? An interrogation? What for?
|| FULL BIRTH-GIVEN NAME ||
*sigh*  Victoria Bastion Helixarious, but “Vic” is fine unless you are a glutton for word punishment or some shit.
|| GENDER ||
Um…female, you damn idiot.
|| SEXUALITY ||
How about, who the fuck cares with a side of I sure as hell don’t, m’kay?
|| AGE ||
Old enough you dumb shit. *sigh*  Fine, I don’t know, 22? 23? I ain’t getting any younger though...
|| RELATIONS ||
None that I know of or care to know of. 
|| IN-DEPTH HUMAN APPEARANCE ||
You can’t figure it out just by looking at me? Wow, you’re a winner for sure. But anyway, I’m a tom-boyish tall bitch with a slender body, small breasts, and slightly stocky thighs, which apparently were inherited from my mother. Lucky me. Although I did get her green eyes so there’s that. *shrug* And I’m sure you’ve already noticed a few tribal tatts, fantasy art, and some miscellaneous shit covering my arms and shoulders, of course there’s others in well-hidden places that you wish your cheeky perverted mind could ponder. Clothing? I don’t know, I guess it would be considered “street wear”, like jeans, t-shirt, and boots. And don’t even get me started on hair...it’s a hot mess and hasn’t been brushed in forever. But, you know what? I’m not here to impress anyone so shut the fuck up about it. 
Mind Prisons
|| PERSONALITY TRAITS ||

○ Animal lover - because no one else understands her
○ Sarcastic nature - helps to alleviate boredom and hide her true feelings.
○ Addictive behavior - There’s a vice for every occasion.
○ Anxious - “Someone shut my brain off for fuck’s sake!”
○ Liberal Views - That mouth seems to have no filter attached.
○ Forceful - When the going gets tough, push back and push harder.
○ Perfectionist - Just when you think it’s right...it’s not.
○ Paranoid - “They’re coming to take me away, ha! Ha!”.
○ Sore Loser - “Shut up, I didn’t want to play your stupid game anyway!”.

|| QUIRKS ||

○ Draws random doodles on any piece of paper or the walls, and always carries a pen, pencil, or marker to facilitate this habit.
○ Compulsively interrupts people talking to interject something unrelated just for shits.
○ Makes up lies about unimportant things.
○ Can spend an hour or more sitting on the toilet reading comic books, and has been known to fall asleep doing so.

|| LIKES & DISLIKES ||

 Seems to get along better with kids than adults
 Drawing and painting with the blood and bones of her foes! *sadistic laugh*...or, perhaps with conventional medium. *yawn*
 Drinking games
 Cars
 Hypocrites
 Losing at drinking games, or any game for that matter
 Absolutely hates child abusers

My Peeps...or are they?
|| FAMILY YOU'VE LOST ||

○ Maria Helixarious (Mother) - no idea where she is.
○ Alex (Father?) - no idea who he was, and pretty sure he’s dead anyway.
○ Bradley (Brother) - presumably dead, but unconfirmed

|| FAITHFUL COMPANION(S) ||
German Shepard, retired K9 Unit dog
|| PERSONAL WEAPONS ||

○ Native American tomahawk Although she has no idea where it came from...
○ REMINGTON 870 short barrel shotgun Easier to hit a target since her aim sucks
○ Pepper Spray - In yo face mutha fucka!
○ Butterfly knife - Because who doesn’t like butterflies?
○ Brass Knuckles - It just hurts more

You think you know me, bitch?
|| BIOGRAPHY ||

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”
The dark-haired girl sat in the corner of the room, black charcoal from the willow stick covered her hands and sweaty face as she busily sketched images of fantastical beasts, wolves, and other creatures of the night on the wall in the small room she called her “cage”. Various mythological tattoos adorning her upper body made it difficult to tell where her olive-colored skin ended and the black tank top started as she sat cross legged on the cold floor in a tattered pair of red and black flannel pajama bottoms.
“I-I don’t know much about my past…” She finally said, brushing locks of short, unkempt hair out of her eyes. “Actually, yeah I do, but I won't fucking tell you. So there.” Her voice seemed almost whimsical as she spoke, as though she rather enjoyed toying with people who asked too many questions. “Fine...maybe I’ll tell you just enough so you’ll go away…”
Vic let out a long sigh and continued, tapping her toes to a beat in her head...
“In west Philadelphia born and raised, On the playground was where I spent most of my days, Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool, and all shootin’ some b-ball outside of the school. When a couple of guys who were up to no good, started makin’ trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared, She said, ‘You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air.’ “
She smirked to herself. “Fuck, okay okay, so those were the lyrics to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air...not actually my life. But what difference does it make to you?”
The girl threw the charcoal stick on the floor. “OKAY! FINE!” She swiveled her body and slumped hard against the wall she’d been drawing on, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as she let her voice drop a bit. “So I’ll tell you the real story you persistent prick...”
“I wasn’t even born in this country, but my mother had a fucked up fling going on in South Africa with some military asshole, getting her sorry ass knocked up, and having me.” She paused for a moment as her lip quivered a bit. “And...my younger brother, who was probably the best and only friend I’d had growing up. Long story short, my mother took us to the states a few years later and tried to raise us, but clearly failed miserably since both my brother and I ended up bouncing from one damn orphanage to another.”
The girl laughed almost hysterically to keep herself from crying...or breaking something. “And can I tell you, buck-o, that the foster care system in this country sucks royal cock? I mean, we must have run away like a dozen times only to end up back in a system that couldn’t contain us anyway.”
Victoria stared blankly across the room for a few moments, wiping the few tears that welled up and ran down her blackened cheeks, leaving streaks in it’s wake.
“Aaaand then all this infection shit happened. Governments couldn’t help us, the child care system was a joke, and through all the chaos my brother Bradley and I were split up never to see one another again. I fell in with all kinds of sorry groups, most of which were so strung out on drugs and alcohol that they either didn’t know there was an infection spreading or they didn’t care. Apathy suddenly replace any kind of reasonable thinking in this fucked up world.”
She slowly stood up, stretching her legs and arms before continuing.
“ ‘Safe Havens’ they called them, or so I heard through the ramblings of addicts. Now, don’t get me wrong, I partook in all kinds of shit that should have killed me already, but I’m clean now...well, sort of...but, but, stop trying to change the fucking subject!”
The girl shook her head as she crossed her arms and paced back and forth across the small room.
“And then there’s whispers of this ‘infection’ causing some kind transformation...like, like a werewolf. Yeah, I know, shut up, it sounds stupid but...maybe there’s some truth, yeah? So, now I’m here in the middle of butt-fuck Colorado at one of those ‘Safe Havens’ I mentioned earlier, and I think everyone in this dump is bat shit crazy!”
A sudden knock came to the door, followed by a female child’s voice. “Vic?...are you okay?” Before a reply could come however, the door opened and a dark-skinned girl no more than ten years of age peeked her head through. “Um…I just wanted to let you know that I’m helping the mess hall team make brownies later and thought you’d like to come by.”
“Hmmm...yeah, let's see, I’m busy with…things right now, okay?”
“ ‘Things’...right.” The little girl said with a smirk as she shook her head. “So who were you talking to before I walked in?” Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t have a boy hiding under your bed do you, because you know that’s forbid-”
“What? Hell no!...” Vic stood there with her mouth agape for a moment, darting her eyes around the room before a large smile spread across her face.
“Eh, I was...talking to myself. Apparently…”

|| THEME SONG ||
"Fix Me" by 10 Years