[ WEEK THREE – KILL LOG (NUI) ]

[sheriffexe]

[ It's very, very, very definitely past curfew. The sun isn't all the way down yet but the sky is dark enough that the first glimmer of the moon can be seen in the sky. A coyote howls in the distance, followed by some yipping and it's quite peaceful, for a moment.

Nui will wake up on the edges of the bonfire, closer to the Saloon than the hotel, but there really isn't anything else in sight. Huh. That's pretty strange. No real explanation here besides the fact it's Thursday night. ]

Comments

[coudre]

[ when nui wakes up, it only takes her a moment to realize what's happening. it would be a waste of time to be confused - she knows what day it is, and waking up anywhere that she doesn't remember passing out in means that she needs to be on her guard.

even if there isn't anything in sight, she knows better than to believe that she's alone. she looks around, speaking to no one in particular. ]

I guess it's that time, huh?

[tightly]

[ Since being selected earlier that week, Chane had set out her course of action with razor wire precision, right down to where she will bury her weapon and the change of clothes she carefully stashed outside should any of Nui's genetic material get on her. She had left the hotel before curfew and taken position on the roof of the Sheriff's station, finding her requested weapon waiting for her.

On her belly, peering through the scope, Chane carefully fixes Nui's head in her sights. Perfectly, she finds the girl's temple. The bonfire is the exact light source she needed.

In that very moment, without a single beat of hesitation, Chane squeezes the trigger and shoots. ]

[coudre]

Honestly, lame-o people like you really piss me off.

[ even without her powers, nui is a trained killer herself - she knows vantage points and hiding places at a glance. even if she can't escape it, she's not going to die without dignity.

chane will be able to see her turn up towards the roof of the sheriff's station towards her line of sight in the scope, smiling brightly right before the trigger is pulled. but of course, as a powerless being, she goes down with the headshot.

her blood seeps quickly through her poofy pigtails, and the splatter spreads both on the ground and on her bright pink attire. even dead on the ground, her eerily bright smile remains. ]

1 / 2

[tightly]

[ Nui looks right at her and, despite Chane's best efforts, a muscle in her throat jumps. Panic, or something like it. Or just ... awareness; looking a girl in her eyes and watching the light fade from them in her last seconds.

... ]

[tightly]

[ It's chilling... But it doesn't stop Chane from standing tall, from moving to jump down from the roof and go collect the body. Lifeless, Nui's body is cradled with impersonal delicacy, a light touch devoid of any warmth. Her head is held like an infant's, her arms tucked in so they don't drag, and Chane carries the deceased girl away from the crime scene with chilly efficiency.

From there, several things are done. In the privacy of space between buildings, Chane finds a pair of scissors (taken from the tailor's days ago and left hidden for this purpose) and cuts Nui's dress off of her. It's difficult, even for someone as strong as her. Where the frills are too thick to be cut, they are ripped instead, and it takes several moments of painstaking effort and elbow grease before Nui is undressed. Once bare, the body is carefully deposited in the small acid pool. The liquid bubbles around her body as it sinks into the shallows of the pit, only bobbing back up as nature seems to realise -- yes, this young woman is dead. The dead don't sink; not on their own.

Slowly, over the course of hours, the acid will eat at her flesh. That's fine. For a while, Chane stands there and watches the skin slough off in grotesque, ruddy patches, blood dyeing the lye a faint, almost rosy pink. Then, abruptly, once she's satisfied that the chemicals will do their job, she turns away. With the pile of Nui's tattered clothes in hand, Chane heads back to the bonfire and deposits the pile in the hungry flames. She stays there until every last scrap is gone.

The weapon is buried in the cemetery, underneath a random grave. It's difficult to make the names out in the dark--if pressed, Chane might say she can see an ES somewhere in the stone's inscription. It hardly matters. Two feet down and then the grave is cleanly repacked.

From the shack near the mines (Xion's, once; or maybe that's just how Chane considered it), she reclaims her bag of stashed clothes and quickly changes. The old clothes are tossed into the mine proper, down the hole she knows is there.

Lastly, Chane heads to the Saloon and finds rest in one of the unoccupied upstairs rooms, curling up to get at least a few hours of sleep before whatever happens tomorrow... happens.

It's been a long night. ]