Shifty Day
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Intro:

The peace of Legacy was destroyed one day, rabid monsters took claim of civilization and divided humanity; squaring them away, to occupy the remaining desolate corners, and scurry like mice.

Tametha lies low in certain, otherwise uninhabited areas, which she also must claim back regularly from the wide-spread, growing territory of the night dwelling. Her ongoing concern is the burnt-down, power deprived yes delightful laundromat. The Check & Change or what Tametha likes to call the "Crispy Dollar", because every so once in a blue moon she finds a burnt nickel . . . and calls it a dollar.

Tametha enters the doorway of the grey, dingy nickel and dime abode, stopping just short of the first machines. She senses there may be something scurrying about. A toad amongst the lilies. Albeit a grey, malnourished toad with glaring, shiny, pearl-drop eyes. It's a bachelor scavenger scowling and growling. Tametha sternly pushes a laundry basket aside with one finger. A disappointy frown now befalling the once suspicious face. It's about to pounce. Leaping for her throat. Tametha assails backwards and her head nearly scrapes concrete before she snatches the claws grasping for her neck and kicks it's body over her own and uses it's torso as a paving stone for her bounding step, then uses a quick leap back to gain some distance. She knows now he's weak as she suspected but he's much faster than his kin she's previously been acquainted to. His steps are light. He comes straight for Tametha except uses his momentum to half float across the sides of the machines. Tametha steps back as not to connect and uses her foot to pop a cupboard door open that she hopes to bring the spine of the creature down upon. He uses his hand on the door to keep from spiraling down upon it, his feet land on the other side. He spins quickly to try to slash at Tametha's face. She slides back more extending her same leg in a hope to catch the creature off balance with the door. He steps back out of harm. With her near the ground he thrashes downward in hope to grab a leg. Tametha scissors his arm with her legs and is surprised when he uses her hold to lift all of her figure above waist level. She grabs a hold of the ledge of a machine, frees her grip and spinning on hands tries to evade his attack while getting one good sweeping kick in before knocking out a hinging lightbulb with a foot. Howling can be heard. Not a menacing howling. A howling like giddy, sugar-coated school children after a breaker blows. It's Tametha and the bachelor having a giggle as they can't see well enough at the moment to be enemies. It all comes to a wide eyed staring through the dim light halt when a gaggle of misfits with flashlights roll caroling by. A storm has brewed thick enough that they can continue through the fog lights and lightning. A strobing effect of quick punches, laundry flying, as well as elbows and knees. At one point Tametha makes good use of air-guitar piloting a long left-behind broom until it snaps from him using opened machined windows as cover. Tametha uses this cover against him, corning him. He has to try and push back a combination of windows to the face. But after a few psyche outs it becomes obvious she can just deck him clean across the face, neatly shutting one door, kicking another door to it's extent before booting him in the head. He slumps at the point the door falls in his lap. She grabs the freed door lifting it to his chin and swooping his head clean off to bounce off a lid which shuts after the basket is scored. Never was Tametha an orderly person as how she cleaned shop, but today she made out tidy. Although . . . she wouldn't be able to sleep there for a while. Looking down she realizes at some point he must have shredded open a bleach container, for ribbons of bleach splotches adorn her "borrowed" industrial work outfit and all her appreciative thoughts for being cleanly fade. Tametha makes to leave . . . unamused to suddenly hear:

"Don't you want to hear the message from my master?"

Tametha turned in the doorway. Knowing now it was a created demon made her lose her appetite and all her suspicion.

The door to this {now} little shop of horrors had always been left ajar on the curb, but with the night air cool and the breeze blowing in the trail of a storm Tametha thought it best to scrape the door to a shut and reverse the closed sign to an outward face. If the creature had been created then most likely it was intended to be sent for her. She'd have to tell her friends, but not before they served her a midnight lunch of mixed bird seed brittle and stirred half cans of soup. At least three mixed before a word.

To follow are Idra, Demica & Mink's intro's . . .

2990 Journal of Sh*fTy
Copyright © 2009 Greatest Evil Group

and its creators: | Ryoko Tsune <roadkill@shiftyday.com> |,
| Lits Veda <lichveda@shiftyday.com> |,
| Lorca Blucamica <bluecheese@shiftyday.com> |,
| Melku Saucer <meleficent@shiftyday.com> |,

 
Shifty Day
> Return