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1083537 No. 1083537 ID: 909c07

Screams fill the air. The sharp crack of gunfire pierces through even that, sending jolt of panic through the crowds that even now nearly trample each other to get away, though from what is largely still up in the air. Something roars, something inhuman and vastly terrifying.

This wasn't how this day was supposed to go.

You manage to push your way through the crowd, throwing yourself into a nearby shop. You'd come to the mall with every intention of getting some shopping done. Nice and easy day, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Life, it seems, had disagreed with your intentions. With everything all over the news, you'd expected the government to be a little more on top of all this. But that hardly mattered in the moment. The gunfire was drawing ever closer, and the sounds intense fighting were drawing closer and closer. You could feel panic start to set in, aware of the danger that was swiftly drawing closer and closer.

But you had the means to fight back, even if you'd promised yourself you'd never do so. Promised yourself you'd ignore it all and just live life normally... that had been the right thing to do. It was either that or turn yourself in, and you weren't so naïve to believe that you'd come back out of a government facility again. The people dying were just like you, just in the wrong place at the wrong time... right?

You make to push into the dwindling stampede of terror filled people, only to watch as a woman to your right suddenly falls, the crack of a gun sounding mere moments before her death. You freeze in sudden panic, the strangely calm detachment you'd felt to all this falling away at the undeniable sight of death. Your gaze whips around to the figure standing only a few feet from you.

The man is standing there, a wild look in his eye, some sort of rifle in his hands. He looks just as panicked, maybe even more so. Still, his hands remain steady, the gun trained on you with unwavering intent.

He's going to kill you.

The sheer certainty of it you feel is almost absurd. It's enough to surprise you, shock you, send your mind reeling. You're going to die. Panic gives way to confusion, which gives way in turn to anger. He's going to kill you, like he's killed probably dozens more. They couldn't do a damn thing to save themselves... but you could.

Everything seems to slow, time crawling forward. His hands squeezes, the trigger depressing ever so slightly. At the same time, your muscles tense. The crack of gunfire, and the pain of death.

Something within cracks, like so much glass...

>Death is Merely Inconvenient

You stare at the desk in front of you, pen in your hand. A glance up shows the man, pulling on a suit jacket as he hums to himself. He glances at you questioningly, then gestures towards the paper. "You'll need to fill out that paper, and I have places to be. Quickly now, no more delaying."

Your attention shifts to the paper set squarely on the desk. It's mostly blank, strangely so, as if there should be more on it but isn't. Some sections do stand out however.

Name:
Age:
Gender:

Traumatic Event of your Life:

>Input Command
>>
No. 1083538 ID: eb0a9c

Sar Manjensen (translation: sew my jeans on)
16
Intersex Lynxgirl

When you were a baby, an insane vagrant found your abusive parents bashing your head in and decided to 'step in' by unleashing their hidden arsenal of guns, turning your momma and poppa into meat and popcorn.

They weren't exactly an improvement, even if they fully accepted you. You learned how to kill a squirrel with two bullets and a coat hanger before you learned to walk. When your powers kicked in, your foster parent only showed more insanity and put you through horrifyingly villainous training. They wanted you to topple the government and all that.

Child services stepped in about three years ago and you've been living blissfully in a backwater orphanage ever since.
>>
No. 1083563 ID: 0ec851

Marie Kafka
19
Female

To say you led a good life would be stretching it, your parents gave you nothing more than food to eat and a roof over your head, so you essentially had to raise yourself, mostly through books at first. A book on parenting became your guide on how to grow up, an encyclopedia became your mentor, and fictional characters became your role models. Once you got past the password on your father's work computer though, there was so much more.
So naturally when you got bullied you turned to the consensus of the internet, since authority figures were a no go that left self defense. The taekwondo teacher was nice enough to give you discounted lessons, and once you got to green belt you figured you'd try making use of your fledgling martial skills. It ended up being the worst decision of your life.
That train, that goddamn train. It was raining hard, and the fog rising up from the nearby coast made it hard to see more than a yard. Your bullies cornered you by the tracks, they never really did much more than a single punch so you figured if you used proper force they'd give up. That's why the moment one of them laid their hands on you, you kicked them straight onto the tracks. It was only supposed to intimidate them, but at that moment a train showed up. Your bully tried to get up and off the tracks but the rain made them slip on the rocks. One moment they were scrambling to get away, the next moment their legs became a smear of red as the train barreled through. It was a memory that you'd never forget, as if seared into your corneas.
In the end it was ruled a self defense but nobody could look at you the same way. Moving out of that damned town was the only good thing your parents ever did for you.
>>
No. 1083791 ID: 2f41db

Name : Thomas Marlow
Age : 22
Gender : M.

Traumatic event :
I just got shot.
Again.
Have a guess what my trauma is.
Let me tell you, it does NOT get easier second time around pal.

Now im here either suffering a psychotic break or whats left of my mind is hiding out in one of my last misfiring neurons that for some goddamn reason is fixated on the finer points of form filling.

I
I dont want to be dead.
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