Mercenary Martyrdom » Places

         

Brooks raised his eyebrows at the girl who stood there, leaning one arm against the door frame. She was vaguely familiar, but the way she stood implied to him that she didn't intend on letting him go any time soon. “Are you the one that brought me here? Where am I? How much damage was done in the riots?” He sighed, twisting the scarf in his pocket.

"Listen, sweetheart, I don't know." He started, considering trying to slide past her.

“I’m sorry for the straightforwardness. You can call me Cheryl... but I want answers.” He sighed. He definitely wasn't getting anywhere fast. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Come on, then. Come in out of the doorway." He called, sitting on his bed and crossing his legs.

"I'm not the one who brought you here. I know W- I mean Hawk- got a few rebels to bring anyone who was in danger back here. I was.... ah a little busy." He remembered crouching behind a crate, shaking and trying to catch his breath. Trying to get Hayley out of his head. "You are in the rebel base. I'm not telling you where, because firstly, you could be wearing a wire and be working for the army, and secondly, if I did, Hawk would kill me for the first reason. He would find out. He always does. As for the riots..." He sighed again, the images of the fires and the massacres behind his eyes. He rubbed his eyes.

"I don't know how much you remember. Division 7 was almost entirely wiped out. We've got the few survivors here at the moment. Division 7 was almost entirely destroyed. Em... Divisions 1 and 2 were hardly touched. 3-6 had a little damage done, but nothing compared to Division 7.

He looked up at her, before realising that he had forgotten to introduce himself. "The name's Brooks, by the way."