𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐏 𝐇 𝐀 𝐍 𝐘 ༼ ᵗᵐʳ ᵗʰᵒᵐᵃˢ

-☆ Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Oɴᴇ ☆-

•●☆●•

Violet sucked a breath in through her teeth, the air whistling before she exhaled quickly. She was annoyed.

Jorge had sent her on yet another mission, and it was beginning to get a little repetitive. She'd been doing these kinds of tasks for weeks, surely by now she'd get to do something a little more exciting.

She snorted. Considering chasing after ex members of the gang unexciting was a bit of an understatement. It gave her a thrill, one she desperately tried to grasp onto before it vanished.

It was like Jorge didn't trust her, she thought. He and Brenda were the only people she trusted, no exceptions. She couldn't afford to make exceptions in this world. The gang life was built on lies and deals, supported by people who were used to getting what they wanted and the people willing to get whatever those people wanted. As long as they were paid.

Jorges gang was one of the biggest in the entire Scorch, but all of the gangs were endangered. WCKD was constantly on the lookout to overthrow gangs and steal their materials to create their sick experiments.

The gangs had to move every few years, roughly. Violet had lost many homes thanks to WCKD, and she hated them with a passion.

When Jorge had found her, all those years ago, she'd been practically a skeleton. Digging in the rubbish like a rat, he'd said, starving and scavenging for anything.

Brenda and Jorge were her family, and the trio protected and cared for each other in a well-balanced triangle.

He'd taught her to fight, negotiate, and how to survive in this cruel world. She owed her life to him, and he well knew it. He made her go on these kinds of missions daily.

It was hardly day though, thought Violet. She preferred to 'hunt' at night. The night had always been a comfort to her, silent and free of the Flares that had wrecked the planet years before. The Earth was barely recovering.

She climbed over rubble and debris, almost at her calculated destination. Jorge had given her the coordinates per usual, and her compass sat in the palm of her hand.

She loved wildlife, but it was more common to see a shard of glass than a flower. Once, long ago, she'd been lucky to see a butterfly, and she often thought about it. Older members of the gang told her about the world as it used to be, sprawling with nature and creatures. She ached to see it.

Laughter caught at her ears, and she stiffened and crouched, her hand creeping towards her thigh holster. Her favourite pistol sat in there, although she would have preferred bow and arrow.

Jorge always asked her to take the gun though. She knew it was better. It did more damage quicker, long distance or short.

In the distance, the groaning of a building inches from falling screeched. She snuck a glance that direction, immediately noticing the glow of a fire rising mere metres away, from above a boulder.

Holding her breath, she readied her muscles for fight. She had been trained by the best - aka Jorge - and was prepared to take these idiots down.

They had left the gang, and death was their punishment. Members rarely got away without consequence. They knew too much, and they couldn't risk the fuckers giving their location away. Rumour has it WCKD gives a pretty high prize.