i wrote this for the forum contest in April but ended up not entering because something happened at the end of April that distracted me. i posted it on AO3 but forgot to put it up here. so here it is i guess.
this is so silly but i liked writing it
Jamie snapped her tank top strap back onto her shoulder just in time to avoid giving the Drone the show of its life.
Her hand shot back to her Lancer. She braced a moment before impact, pushing with all the might her weathered but well-tested body contained. The slight downward incline of the street helped the bayonet find a new home under the monster's sternum.
The Drone hacked blood onto its chin and Jamie's face. It fell backwards off the bayonet and hit the ground, still clutching the Boltok it never fired. She'd been sure not to give it a chance, springing from behind a defunct car at the last second like a parody of whatever Locust had nightmares of. Gears, maybe?
Jamie definitely didn't look like a Gear. Even if she were taller and broader, her wardrobe lacked a wearable refrigerator, and she didn't talk like she was gargling testosterone.
She felt her lack of masculinity at the moment, heaving breaths, forcing her exhausted lungs to put up with her. She brushed a strand of black bangs, plastered to her forehead from sweat and steadily slipping into her eyes, out of her way and glanced around. There were no other Locust.
These days, Jamie couldn't even remember the name of the godforsaken place. It was on the plateau and so avoided the laser strikes, but lacked legs, so it couldn't run from the Locust. And after they were done with the place, stripped the streets and buildings clean of all humans, they'd moved on and Jamie's group had eventually moved in.
A breeze blew something small and white across Jamie's vision. Her limbs pricked with cold and she nearly pulled the trigger on it. She watched the liberated magazine or catalogue page dance through the air and laughed shakily.
Given the chance to calm down, Jamie became aware once more of the persistent soreness in her chest. She'd been running around with a bra ever since her last one broke a few days ago. She was glad she wasn't big; a more well-endowed woman wouldn't even think of anything more than "peaceful stroll," let alone the kind of hectic rabbit-sprinting and quasi-parkour that was common to the life of a Stranded.
Maybe that's why women ran back into Daddy COG's arms, then.
Robson told her he'd look for bras on the next supply run, but she noticed where his eyes were going and didn't trust him. He might burn the bras he found and claim the Locust were stealing them for fashion shows.
After a short rest and a long drink from one of her water bottles, Jamie was ready to move again. She'd hit up all the apartments between here and the settlement-found nothing. Every drawer had been pulled out, the underbelly of every bed scrutinized; laundromats, the trunks of cars, even boys' rooms had been pillaged. She hadn't found so much as a preteen's training bra. It was true that her settlement had probably taken everything worth taking in a several mile radius, including every article of clothing you could name, but she'd found shirts and socks and other things.
So what gives? she thought, frustration souring her face. It was noon and the height of summer and her body had to grow new sweat glands just to keep up.
The lone Drone also bothered her, but maybe it was looking for something "sensitive" too. Did Locust wear jockstraps?
Maybe best not to travel down that road. Focus on the one straight ahead of her, past the body that would soon cook on the asphalt. She adjusted the pack slung around her shoulder and started off.
The stupid strap slipped off again and Jamie growled. She paused long enough to set it right. At least she'd wrangled up a pair of jeans that fit her colt-like legs. At this rate she was starting to wish she'd been born a man, and one lacking shame. The jeans fit, but trapped heat.
On the street corner, one hundred feet ahead, was a five-story building. The bricks were an assortment of faded reds and browns, and every window was as broken as one would expect. She noticed the planks criss-crossing the mahogany front door.
She placed her Lancer on the stoop, still close enough that she could grab it quickly, and rooted around her pack for the hammer. Before E-Day, girls had bags full of make-up and money and spare tampons. The spare tampons were still a thing, if you could find them, but the interior of a girl's purse today was more likely to look like the inside of a hardware store. That was Jamie's philosophy, anyway.
She went to work pulling out the nails. It was easy, though it inspired her to perspire more. A particularly stubborn nail forced her to use more girl power on it. Heat bloomed across her cheeks and for a second she thought it wouldn't give.
But then the nail flew out like it'd been waiting for freedom. Jamie's foot slipped off the stoop enough to upset her balance. Her arms wheeled but she couldn't stop herself. Her back hit the sidewalk, the worse thing being the sensation of things moving far too much than they needed to.
She sat up. Nothing hurt too much, but the interruption made her realize how tired she was getting. She downed the rest of her first water bottle and tossed it to the ground. This would definitely be the last building-she had one bottle left, and needed something for the trip back.
There were no more problem nails, so soon the boards were gone. She tossed the hammer back into the pack, shrugged the pack onto her arm, and retrieved her Lancer.
The door was locked, but luck was on her side-it was one of those crappy locks that had a single button on the inside, and she happened to have a hair pin on her. She picked it one-handed, lock popping in a few seconds, and she smirked in satisfaction even though it hadn't taken much effort on her part.
But that might have been the end of the fun part. It'd been boarded up, but there was no telling what could be in there. Wretches were known to get into some weird places.
Jamie grabbed the door knob, holding her breath. She twisted, shoved it forward, and swung her Lancer up to glare down the emptiness. Heat and a musty smell were all that came to greet her at the door.
The outside light only carried for a few feet, bleeding into darkness that told her this was a fool's errand. Across the darkness, however, Jamie could see more light, edging from around a corner. There were two open apartment doors on her side of the shadows, and one more nearer the mystery light source.
She strode forward.
It hadn't been an elegant or fancy facility, back in the day. It hadn't been a good neighborhood, either; Jamie never lived here, but visited often to play with school friends, and she used to joke how little this part of the city had changed. The only thing the Locust had really taken away were the junkies on every street corner.
She went to the door on her left, pushing it in more to reveal a living room that looked unchanged from E-Day, besides the inordinate dust and weird "old and warm things" smell. If Jamie didn't know better, she may have thought it seemed inviting.
She kept her Lancer raised as she rounded the corner, found nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, glanced cursorily into the single bedroom and bathroom to make sure she was truly alone. She shut the front door, locked it, and went back to the bedroom.
Her Lancer went on the bed, and her attention went to the crummy-looking dresser set against the wall. She tore open the drawers and found men's boxers, feeling her spirit sink with disappointment. It was a necessary waste of time because there was no real way to tell "what" lived in an apartment until you found the underwear. She gave the rest of the apartment quick glances, hoping for leftovers from some past fling.
With the first checked, Jamie exited into the hall and slid into the next door to her left. She repeated the steps, found neither living nor dead waiting for her, and went to shut the front door.
Her left arm froze in the air. Every muscle tensed, one leg cocked in a half completed step, her lungs paralyzed. She felt like a jack-in-a-box, waiting for someone to turn the crank, except the latch was open and she was more afraid of what might jump out at her.
A few moments of standing like that, and the noise she thought she'd heard repeated. There was a grating, raspy bark, followed by softer grunts and noises that might have turned into words if she listened hard enough. But Jamie didn't have to hear any more to know she had to leave now. Unless she got her species mixed up, those were Locust noises.
She could take one Locust, when it was surprised and she had momentum on her side. But a group of them? She had as much of a chance shooting them down as she did asking them politely to leave a lady alone.
Jamie pushed her head past the invisible netting of fear her brain had put over the front door, and peeked towards the street. She guessed they'd found their buddy's body.
Crap. They knew there was something hostile in the area. Unless Drones had a tendency to commit sepuku in the middle of the street, there was no way the scene wouldn't look like murder to the live Locust.
She ducked into the hallway and tiptoed as quickly as she could towards the other light. Part of the back wall had been torn down, opening into a deserted alley.
Once she had both feet on the outside and was fully confident that the Locust could not hear her, she turned right and sprinted with the desperation of a child being chased by angry bees.
Things bounced. She regretted the day of her birth.
Jamie wanted to avoid the main street, and luck was on her side. The back door of another building offered shadowy, moldy-smelling salvation. She was thrifty-she'd take it.
She turned left and found herself in a dank, dark kitchen. Amazingly enough, not all of the food had been scavenged by people or animals. The strangest combination of smells, so thick they were almost flavors, hung on the air. Her brain paused for a brief moment to process how many different kinds of rotting vegetables might be fermenting in the refrigerator, then she strode across the tiled floor while taking shallow breaths.
The door that would take her to the main part of the restaurant was closed. She pushed it in. She stared.
The restaurant's floor had been cleared of tables and chairs-Jamie could see some of them outside the broken front windows, strewn around the street carelessly. This left a sizeable amount of space for the piles and piles of women's lingerie.
Jamie had never seen such an assortment. Lacy panties all over the countertop. Hillocks of bras, sorted by style. There were even boy shorts, nursing bras, and the fluffy things obviously meant for the husband than the women. She swore she saw a lone (obviously unused) edible licorice thong draped over the neck of a wall-mounted light fixture.
It was then that Jamie's brain registered two other things. Firstly, she realized she hadn't seen any women's underwear on her search either. She hadn't paid attention since she preferred to go commando anyway.
Secondly, she noticed the three Drones.
The one nearest to her turned its head when it heard the squeak of the door. It was one of those dumb-looking goggles-wearing guys. It was leaning on the counter, its Hammerburst laying free.
There was a second Drone sitting against the adjacent wall, its gun also laying near it instead of in its hands. It was so enraptured by what it was looking at, it didn't immediately notice that there was a human.
The third Drone was one of those weirdos who ran around without a shirt on, but that wasn't the unusual part. With its claws on its hips and its feet spread, it looked confident and prepared.
It needed that confidence to pull off the frilly black bra it wore. The article had obviously been designed for someone with large jiggly jugs.
Judging by the discarded bras near the Drone's feet, this wasn't the first it had tried on.
Jamie snarled. First their planet-now this!? Would they ever stop? Had they no boundaries?
She squeezed the Lancer's trigger and the nearest Drone's exploded into red mist. Bra Drone stood in shocked stillness, and she saw why when she noticed there were two Hammerbursts on the counter. It had disarmed itself, the idiot.
The Drone near the wall scrambled, grabbing its gun in the same second that Jamie jumped over the body. She swung her arm back, bringing the bayonet forward into Bra Drone. It grunted, stumbling, blood trickling from a tiny wound in its upper abdomen.
Jamie roared and shoved the blade in further. The other Drone was able to start shooting by now. She sidestepped, forcing Bra Drone to move with her as it was attached to her bayonet. Its upper body trembled as it took its friend's bullets.
It started to slump, and Jamie lowered herself for leverage. She shoved forward with every ounce of strength, grunting with the effort. The dead body fell into its living friend, knocking it back to the floor. The Hammerburst skidded across the floor.
Jamie leveled the Lancer at the remaining Drone's head and fired until it stopped moving.
Her traumatized muscles twitched. She heaved a few breaths, staring around and letting the past twenty seconds sink in.
She guessed she didn't have much time before the other Locust zeroed in on the gunshots. She slid her backpack off, opened the top, and started shoving bras in. Statistically, at least one had to fit her, and if not, then one could be modified. She was sure the other women back at camp would appreciate her efforts.
They'd better.
Jamie hefted the now-full backpack onto her shoulder and left through the front door. If she took a left, she'd get back to the settlement. With Locust hot on her trail, that's where she aimed for. Her Lancer wasn't the only one back home.
After several minutes of taking winding turns in hopes of confusing any pursuers, Jamie decided to stop for a moment in an alley. She was sore all over and in despite need of a drink. She took a big gulp of her water bottle and emptied the rest over her scorched face.
Next, she dug through her backpack and found one that looked to be about her size. When she had it on, she felt so much better.
She broke into a jog down the street, heading for home.
"Hmm."
RAAM dragged a clawed finger down his chin in imitation of the human gesture. He placidly observed the dead bodies and the ransacked pile of bras.
"Hrmm," he rasped.
His lieutenant, in the snazzy black armor typical of the Elites, poked at the body of Bra Drone and growled wordlessly. The high heat meant the bodies decomposed fast, so though only a couple of hours had passed since RAAM received the report, it had already started to smell.
I am not pleased, Myrrah said, with the same short snappiness as usual. General, I consider this a black mark on your record.
He closed his functioning eye. He hadn't been in the area; what was he supposed to do? He couldn't drop everything and go shopping whenever she wanted. That's why he ordered the Drones to gather up all the lingerie in the first place.
Open your eyes at once! I was not done looking!
A black mark on his record, yes. But not as she thought.
I like the red one. She didn't even sound happy. RAAM plucked it from the pile and turned to leave.
The Theron Elite was staring downward at his own chest, another of those blasted fat-hammocks held delicately in his claws. He tilted his head appraisingly, then nodded and gave his best impression of a smile. He looked up, met RAAM's glare, and dropped the article of clothing without a second thought.
He'd be happy just to get out of this cramped building. He was starting to get a kink in his neck.
Wait, General!
He paused.
I didn't see that other pile. Look through them.
He wanted to kink some necks, for sure. Namely of the human who killed these Drones and left him with this task. It could wait, he supposed. This was, apparently, more important.
He didn't get it. Why didn't women just not wear these things? Wouldn't that be better for everyone involved?