nice butt confirmed A+

64 7 11

[the boys]

The boys emerge from an alleyway, blinking back the cold gray light of the sky. Quickly, silently, they shuffle off their gear, the facemarks and gloves and bulky bodysuits that kept them protected during their difficult journey into the city.

Now that we finally get a good look at them they're pretty attractive? Pretty super attractive, actually. Their clothes are bad - under their protective layers it's just baggy, dusty, ill-fitted clothes that are more suited for, like, "doing things" than looking nice - but still. There's one with nice hair. One with nice eyes. One with a nice smile. One with a nice butt.

The one with the butt gathers up all their shed clothing and bends over to stash it behind a crate in the alley and yes - nice butt confirmed A+.

They relax for a moment, having passed through an incredible ordeal, loathe to admit to themselves that an even more difficult one is about to begin. They find themselves on a quiet side street with not many other people around it seems safe to pause for a moment. They chat quietly, fiddle with their screens, which are different from all the screens we've seen so far in the city. These are bulky, solid, very much a thing they are holding, rather than just an extension of their bodies the way other screens seem to be. They swipe their screens a few time, turn a dial (?) to no apparent end and shake their heads.

The one with the smile gives up and sits down, leaning back against the building. Eyes closed, tilting his head up to catch the light. What's he even smiling about. A friend of his just died, devoured by bugs. That boy had such nice arms, too. At least they made it through, though. Their friend didn't die in vain. Yet, at least. Why not smile - it's one more day under the sheltering canopy of sky. Another opportunity to make things better than they are.

Then the one with the smile opens his eyes and begins screaming and screaming and screaming.

He scrambles to his feet, pointing up in the sky, screaming, unable to form words. The other boys look up, wince and shout, but manage not to freak out.

They sky is filled with bugs. Again. They're everywhere. Filling the air above them, crawling along the sides of the buildings overhead. Skittering around on the ground here and there in every direction as far as they can see.

The one with the eyes uses those incredibly nice eyes to regard the bugs carefully. "They're not real," he says.

"What do you mean they're not REAL," the one with the smile says.

"They're metal, aren't they," the one with the hair says. "Robots."

"That's supposed to be BETTER?"

"Relax mate," the one with the eyes said. "They're just part of the city. It's how they film everything."

"Speaking of which," the one with the hair says, reaching towards a bug hovering just overhead, which zips back just out of reach, "Best keep moving."

"Where though?" the one with the smile says. "Our screens are useless. No network here."

"And we better ditch that screen we took off the worker," the one with the eyes adds. "We can't get anything off it, looks like it was coded to him or something."

"We been here 10 minutes and we're in over our heads already," the one with the butt says. "Maybe this was a mistake, we're already a man down, he got eaten by bugs, we have no idea where we are, where to go-"

"Oy," the one with the eyes says, gently clapping his friend on the shoulder. "We've come this far, yeah? We've got each other, don't we? Let's just keep moving, yeah?"

He looks to the one with the hair for confirmation, who nods in agreement. "We'll appeal upon the kindness of a passing stranger," he says. There's nods all around, some more enthusiastic than others, and they head off.

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