Reactionary choices

“This is an awful idea,” Wicked groans as Graphic skips by her side.
The sounds of cars rushing by keeping her nice and tense. Our green lady tugs at her hat pulling the wide brim down with a sigh, was she glowing? Our girl is fearing pitch forks while Graphic just wants some fries.
Sticking her tongue out Graphic laughs.
“No, it’s a great idea-I don’t know why we don’t do this all of the time,” her stomach growls, “See? My stomach agrees.”
Wicked just shakes her head, watching her feet as two men in suits pass opposite them.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this-we’re supposed to be laying low,” she pulls up her gloves fidgeting all over, “Someone is going to notice” she growls, her green lips thinning as she bares teeth.
“You’ve got the money,” her companion says simply.
Her face immediately drops to a pout as Wicked stops short, gloved hands now balled fists, her green glowing eyes shining just under that wide brim.
“What!? You said it yourself it’s a waste to spend it down there,” she whispers the last words.
Wicked says nothing just continues forward, not wanting to admit, she’s just as guilty. The pair resume their walk just as before getting only a few steps before-boom.
The girls turn instinctively just in time to witness the short flight of what could only be an old militarily transport. Their eyes wide as the vehicle falls. Both backing up slowly hoping not to fall down with impact. Catching breath they can’t look away as tires fall on unsuspecting victims the red splatter almost art.
Everything slows then rapidly begins again as the truck barrels through the streets bulldozing everything in its path. The girls stand silent Wicked holding her hat down with one hand breathing steady. As they turn to begin their walk again, planes rise from underneath the now fallen building, cars-unmarked and police units alike fill the streets.
“Shit-shit-shit!” Wicked screams though in the roar of chaos her words melt away.
Units begin to race towards them, panic fills the space between them-they were supposed to be laying low. Without a second thought our Wicked witch throws her gloves off, hands glowing toxic, she flings all her panic at the cars. Green fumes permeate her flesh as the force released explodes knocking the planes out of the sky. Graphic grabs her underneath the arms propelling them into the air.
“Keep them off-I’ll get us out!” she’s laughing, but can see the fire. Our nameless little drifter knows the score-FREAKS burn.
She doesn’t respond as her glowing eyes keep focus on the streets below, the yellow man has taught her well, but is it enough?
Graphic flies above the city looking for a place to drop,but it doesn’t come. She can feel her friend grow limp, she can hear the stealth units on either side of her, and then her stomach growls.
“We’re fucked! Aren’t we?” Wicked laughs weakly. She’s falling asleep her green eyes no longer glowing.
Her stomach growls again. If they die Graphic doesn’t get fed-that’s unacceptable. With added gusto she pushes forward, eyes catching the dead zone.
“Maybe! But it won’t be here!”
The witch has already passed out practically snoring in her arms, but that’s probably for the best.
The stealth units halt as the pair fly passed the border walls, over the barbed wire, the red lights and the unmanned watchtowers.
Graphic’s smiling looking over her shoulder knowing they got away, not recognizing they were also falling out of the sky.

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