The scientists and their right hands/open-pm me

[Andrei Ehrenström]

This was crazy.

No, actually, it was beyond crazy. I've been on trains before, since Dad didn't let just anyone pack up the furniture we spent so much time building and carving. But this... a train packed with Peacekeepers, while I and a handful of others waited tensely for the next stop... this was some caliber of insanity I don't have a word for.

Why they had been unable to find carpenters in a place like 10 was beyond me. You'd think that for all the Capitol's pomp and power, they'd at least have bothered to train some of the citizens to repair their fences and corrals and whatever else you use to run a ranch. But, then, the Capitol didn't exactly have a reputation for giving a rat's furry ass about the conditions people worked in as long as they got their goods.

It didn't help either that we'd been sitting there several hours, even more so with my growing restlessness. Maybe it was from being used to having the spacious woods around me, maybe it was the seats built for someone considerably smaller than me, and maybe it was just the fact that our group of half-dozen or so carpenters was surrounded by probably hundreds of those white-clothed Capitol sheep.

I can't tell whether the itching sensation is my blood boiling or my skin crawling.

Restless and stiff, I stand up in the aisle, though I'm not able to stretch far with the low ceiling; a few of the younger, greener Peacekeepers glance up at the movement but don't make any motion to stop me. Some of the older ones, officers, seem to mind.

“Where’re you going?” One asks gruffly. I raise my hands defensively.

“Bathroom?” I snark at him; Granddad used to tell me that if I had something to do and couldn’t (or didn’t want to) give the truth, blame your bowels. Nobody will ask questions (because, really, who would want to know?). “Are we on the buddy system or something?”

The officer in question rolls his eyes and grumbles something I guess I should be glad I can’t hear. Even I can admit my temper is much shorter than was good for me, and this was probably the worst possible place I could get in trouble. Either way, I can now wander the train under the pretense of looking for a lavatory.

I started off down the hall towards the back end of the train; I was hoping to stand out on the back, get some fresh air after having been cooped up for so long. I passed through another passenger car, a dining car (becoming grateful for the bundle of food my sisters had shoved into my hands before leaving, smelling whatever was cooking in here), and coming up on another car that appeared to have a roadblock.

A small group of Peacekeepers is blocking the aisle, armed with some device I don't recognize and weapons that I certainly do. It doesn't take a genius to tell something serious is going on, and I start to turn to go before they take notice of me.

[Jack Lexington]

'Oh my head hurts'
For a while I can't think anything else. I keep my eyes closed because it just seems safer.
A beautiful female voice soothes me. Is it possibly Tallulahs voice? Or my mother? She asks how I am and I mutter sore. She asks what my name is and I mutter Jack. Then she doesn't ask anything anymore and when I finally open my eyes she's gone. They all are. And where the hell am I again?
I turn my head to look and regret it immediately as sharp pain shoots from my forehead to the back of my head. Carefully I raise my hand to touch my forehead but can only lift it a few centimeters before it stops. As I look down I see the restraints holding me down and the IV that's been shoved in my arm and suddenly everything comes back to me. They must have figured out who I really am. That's why they pinned me down and knocked me out. It doesn't even cross my mind why they haven't executed me yet. All I can think off is run and hide! But how?
Fighting against the cotton in my head I scan my surroundings for anything I could use to free myself. After a while my eyes fall on a sharp object on the metal tray near my head. As much as I possibly can with my arms tied down I wriggle my way upwards so I can reach the tray with my head. Placing my chin on it I slide it closer to me and try to pick up the scalpel with my teeth.
Needless to say that I miss three times and almost send the whole tray falling to the ground before I finally have it in my mouth. Next I push myself up on my elbows and try to bite down as hard on the handle as I can, bend down to my right wrist and attempt to cut through the fabric that's wrapped around my wrists.
My pulse is as high as it can possibly get while my mind is still numb.

What neither me or Hilent know is that after the doctor knocked me out and so cleverly asked me my real name she had gone to one of the guards to have him scan my hand because she didn't think the captain was taking her serious. Again my name popped up together with my picture.
The guard simply shrugged and told her that I was fine. Then the doctor lowered her voice.
"Are you sure?" The man double checked and suddenly his eye narrowed at the small screen.
"His history had been erased for some reason."
Slowly the doctor connects the dots and answered. "Or he never had one."

A few minutes later the same guard bumped into one of the carpenters, who was standing in the way, pushed him to the side and crossed the train with fast steps in search of 'the captain'.

When he finally tracks him down he is breathing hard.
A jolt makes him stumble right into Hilents arms as the train slows down to stop.
"Sir, there is a problem. The man, who is on your team, is probably not who he poses as. He has no history. I've sent a message to the headquarters. They confirmed that he's not in the main data base. Sir, that man is no peace keeper. Here are your orders."
The screen he holds in front of Hilents nose contains a message. "Question the imposter of his purpose, find accomplices and eliminate them."
Excitedly he adds. "You must act fast. We're approaching the station of district 10. I would like to offer you my assistance, sir."

[Kingly]

My heart thunders in my chest, my lung are constricting themselves. Jack's been discovered. I need to think and think fast, or else there's going to be blood splattering the walls. The words on the note "Eliminate them" burn into my mind. I can't kill anyone. What if... wait, I'm supposed to be part of a classified op right? And the men part of my op are supposed to be secret, right? I know how to get Jack out of this.

I smile as I look over the paper, chuckling.
"Sir?" The keeper asks.
"There's only three men who can give me orders, and none of their names ore on this paper. Do you even know what happens when people are inducted to my team, keeper?"
"No, sir." He isn't scared, just curious.
"Their histories are erased, their homes lost. Their families relocated. When people join my team, they lose everything that belongs to them. And it stays that way until they finish their duties. The nature of our work is very, very critical to Panem's security. So put the word out. If anyone, ever, even dares to question any person in my squad, I'll personally see to it that they are executed very publicly. My men have no histories. So inform the men on the train of such. Remember, I retain the right to execute a person without cause. Am I clear, keeper?"
He nods, "Yes, sir. May I ask a question sir?"
I glare at him, "If you must."
"What did you lose?"

Oh crap. I keep a calm look, even though it's hard to do so. I spring a slight smile and in a casual tone I say, "Everything."

Funny thing is, that's the truth.

Then I push past the keeper to get to Jack's room. Two keepers are present at Jack's bed, toting heavy machine guns that could easily tear a car in half. "Sir! The prisoner is ready for information extraction."
Information extraction, is that a different word for torture? Doesn't matter. Little wristbands they have on begin beeping and thin strips of paper come out. Then men read the papers, then nod.
"Sorry for the misinterpretation, sir."
One pulls keys from his pocket and open's Jack's cuffs. Jack looks just shocked, in an extreme way. He is hauled to his feet, and he stands. His legs are healed.
"Follow me. For the fucking trouble you've caused me, you better live up to your profile."

I lead Jack off the train, but on our way off, we meet the nurse. She's standing by the train exit. And the look that fills her face when she sees Jack is priceless. She looks as if someone stole everything from her. As we walk by, I reach under my cloak to take hold of my pistol. I drop the clip into a back pocket of my pants, pull the slide to eject the shell in the chamber. I walk up to her and place the gun right in her face. I pull back the hammer, "I reserve the right to execute anyone without cause."
Her face floods with fear. Her whole body jerks when the guns clicks. She's trembling wildly, tears trace her cheeks.
"If you obstruct me or my men again, the gun will be loaded."

I press on with Jack away from the train station. I stop when I hear a commotion. I see... a familiar face. A guy I saw before, never met him. I saw him in seven, a carpenter. What the hell is he doing here?
Doesn't matter, I got Jack here safe and... well sort of safe. He'll have to keep his head down until his hair grows back, He could return to his normal life, whatever it was. We walk down the street away from the train station and turn into an alley between two stores.
"Well, Jack, this is where we part," I pull the papers the contact handed me, district seven citizenship papers, "I need to get back to seven. I'd stick around, but I have plans. And for the record, you make a horrible peace keeper."
I hear some yelling from the direction of the train station, that guy from seven. Dammit. I look at Jack, "There's a guy from seven here. I don't know who he is, I just recognize him. He's making a commotion, you feel like taking care of it?"
I want to get out of this district, I want to get somewhere safe. Wait, I'm a peacekeeper captain, I have free reign in Panem. Well, not free reign, but free enough. There's one stop I want to make before I go back to seven. One stop, I haven't been to since I was five.

I turn to Jack, "I'm leaving the district. You deal with that seven guy, get him out of trouble. Do it and our debt is square for getting you home."
I walk off away from the ally, away from Jack, toward the train. I approach the guy from seven, he's been caught by keepers with scanners. Threatening him with guns and trying to get his hand on a scanner. The keepers see me, "Captain, we have someone that doesn't belong."
I raise an eyebrow, "You're damn right he doesn't belong! I wanted him in this district several days ago! I had him brought here to work on my team's head quarters here in ten. I would beat him breathless, but I got a message and I must return to the capitol immediately."
I grab the guy from seven by the collar and smack him across the back of his head before throwing him toward Jack. My man is up the street, keeper O' Connor. Talk to him and he'll put your sorry ass to work."
The keepers with the machine guns point their weapons at the guy from seven and order him to move. I board the train once again. The scanner comes around, I'm scanned, cleared, and on the road again. It's not long before the train lurches forward.

It's gonna be a long trip to the capitol.



OOC: I'm done guys. I set up a meeting for your characters, so continue your thread. Good RP, Jack.

[Andrei Ehrenström]

Well. I think I chose to walk in on the most awkward, most dangerous conceivable thing on this train; a hostile situation. I was hoping to get out of the way before anyone noticed I was there, but no such luck as a Peacekeeper, barely older than Greger, pushed past me to reach the next car where all the commotion was going on. So much for making a quiet getaway...

A couple of the Keepers approach, and I step back; I'm not anywhere near creative enough to explain away why I'm here. It doesn't help either that I'm still sort of reeling from what I've overheard.

...no, I'm literally reeling from the force of the train hitting the brakes as we approach the station. Close enough.

"What are you doing here??" One of the soldiers demands, shoving me with the heel of his palm. Not that it does much, I've probably got at least thirty pounds on him, and he's at least a tiny bit preoccupied holding that huge gun. I can't help but think that, ruling out being surrounded by Peacekeepers, being in very close quarters, the two in question being heavily armed and me without any conventional weapons.... I could totally take him.

"Stretching my legs," I say, unable to help but sound defensive, even a bit worried, "Don't want any trouble, I was just turning to go..."

I guess I should be glad there wasn't enough space in the compartment with the other carpenters; my tool belt is still on, as is the bag slung across my back containing some food and a few possessions I'd thrown together before being marched off to the station. The bag provides enough padding that having the barrel of the gun jabbed into my back feels more like a poke than the threat of a bullet through my ribs. There's a hatchet in my bag, and I have the overwhelming urge to lob it at the man barking orders at me.

It's when I'm about ready to turn around and give this guy a piece of my mind when another officer walks up briskly, obviously annoyed that I wasn't delivered sooner, though this update about my working on some headquarters I've never heard of. He's almost a full head shorter than me, and though he doesn't look to be especially built, he inexplicably gave off an air of authority that the other Peacekeepers were quick to pick up on.

...I'm thinking again about my odds of taking him in a fight when he mentions 'beating me breathless'. If my wandering in on this conversation doesn't get me in trouble now, I'm betting that at this rate my fists will.

I stumble out onto the platform from the shove and the smack upside the head, only glancing away to see where the officer was pointing so I could glower at him until the train starts to leave. A group of other Peacekeepers have already split up the lot of the carpenters and have taken them off to different places, leaving me with who I suppose was O'Connor. I fold my arms and watch him warily.

"Well?"

[Jack Lexington]

Even though I'm not fully alert yet I know that I'm in trouble when two heavily armed peace keepers strom into infirmary just when I'm about to cut the restraints off my wrists. Next thing I know they are shoving huge machine guns in my face. Instantly I get transported back to the execution of my brother in the market square. The peace keeper then had used exactly the same gun. I will never forget that. The look on my brothers face had been the same as mine now. I'm paralyzed with fear.
"Sir! The prisoner is ready for information extraction."
Oh no, they are going to torture me before they kill me.

I don't know how Hilent does it but he's got them convinced to let me go within a minute and turns everything around 180 degrees. The scientists in district 7 have taken a great pic with him. He's a pro.
Suddenly I'm being released and shoved off the train. My eyes slowly move up from the plattform and fall on familiar buildings, the same old grey skies and clean air of home. Home. I'm finally home. If nobody shoots me in the back I'll be free again. A hot flush overcomes me when I hobble away from the plattform slowly. I want to run but keep myself under controll.
On top of it all I notice that both of my legs are working to some degree. Walking is painful and very unbalanced but I am walking.

The further I get away from the train the more I relax until I hear my name and spin around and see a young, bulky guy with a carpenter belt in work clothes walk towards me.
"Well?" He says as the train behind him takes off. Apparently there is no loading and unloading in district 10 right now.

In disbelieve I stare at him. "What do you want from me?"
For now I'll have to keep up my act because I have no idea who this guy is...maybe another keeper in disguise.

[Andrei Ehrenström]

This O'Connor guy looks confused. If I hadn't walked in on that conversation involving guns and handcuffs, I might've thought he was just some green recruit that hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of his having power. But with all the commotion about a supposed Peacekeeper who wasn't who he says he was, having that other officer come hurriedly to his defense... I'm more than just a little suspicious.

"Your boss," I say, speaking slowly as a jab at his intelligence and jerking my thumb in the direction of the platform, "Said you were gonna put me to work."

I look at him hard. He's younger than me, probably around the same age as my brother; he doesn't look like a Peacekeeper, even overlooking the obvious abuse his head appears to have taken. And it occurs to me that he probably isn't a keeper... but I haven't the foggiest idea why he might pretend to be one.

"So lets get this over with. Where am I supposed to go?"

^{((Kinda short, but he'll have more to say once Jack responds))}

[Gale Hawthorne: Ace Attorney]

((WIP - Once I'm on tonight, it'll be finished.))

[Jack Lexington]

Why did Hilent put this guy here with me? If he wasn't here I could just drop the act and go home. Now I have to keep pretending I'm a peace keeper because I don't know who this dark haired guy is.
"Did he say anything else?" Again I sound like an idiot not a peace keeper, which has almost lead to them executing me.
I straighten up and nodd. "I guess he wanted me to put you to work on the hiding spot for our mission." I'm actually impressed with myself. That was quick.
"We're setting up a camp outside the city from where we can operate."
Knowing my hometown and surrounding area inside out I know a place far off the main street where I can put this guy to work and nobody will be asking questions. A small forest within our district but quite far away from any inhabited area.
"I'll show you where it is but I have to change into casual clothes first. We don't want the population to know who we really are."

For now I'm safe but I'll have to find a way to ditch this guy. Maybe just walk him out so far that he can't find his way back.
The second question is how am I going to make it there? My legs do work a little but a long hike will surely kill me. Quickly I decide to worry about that later.
"Let's go."

Leaving the train station and the guarded platform and checkpoint behind makes me feel safer. The streets are almost empty this early in the morning, which works to our advantage because it minimizes the chance of me running into somebody I know wearing a peace keeper uniform. My right leg, the one that was broken, hurts but works almost as well as before while the other one still doesn't do what I want it to. There's little to no feeling in it as well as limited flexibility. Plus every step stings like the filled it with broken glass. But who am I to complain. I still have two legs, right? And I'm walking the streets of my home town after what seems an eternity. Soon I will be able to take Tallulah, my mother and father in my arms again. The thought makes me so happy I actually well up and have to turn my head to hide my struggle to keep the tears from falling.

Walking along the dusty streets we soon get to a few store fronts. Most of them aren't open yet. While we wait for the clothing store to open I scan the guy. He's a little older than me, looks well built and obviously is used to manual labor judging by the large, rough hands and scars.
"So while we are here in district 10 simply call me Jack. Don't ever reveil my true identity. What's your name?"

[Andrei Ehrenström]

The more I observe about this guy, the less I'm convinced he's a Peacekeeper. Hesitating on remembering his commanding officer's orders, the suspicious activity by the other keepers as to who he was, and the injuries that clearly showed he'd been up to something dangerous (and-or incredibly stupid), that flimsy defense that he was part of some kind of secret ops...

And this was choosing to ignore the fact that he was still pretty much a kid. The youngest Peackeeper I'd ever heard of in my district was my age, but looked years older.

But, for my own sake, I play along.

"Not really. Just that, apparently, I was supposed to be here days ago."

I can't help but be happy that, even though it wasn't my fault, my being late has upset the Capitol. It's about as rebellious as I can dare to be in a place I'm unfamiliar with, with a so-called keeper that looked like he'd rather be doing anything else but drag me around... so to speak. He's walking with an obvious limp, and if I weren't still weighing my ideas for whether or not he was with the government, I might've let him lean on my shoulder.

We stop in front of a clothing store, which looks not to be open for another hour or so; it's only now that I'm outside and surrounded by the smell of grass that I realize how long it's been since I last ate. I rummage around in my backpack for some of the food my family packed for me. No doubt Mom and Dad packed the bread and cheese, but I'm willing to bet Greger and the twins foraged for the hazelnuts, salal and thimbleberries, and sunflower seeds. I pull out a handful of the thimbleberries and stuff them in my pocket, making myself savor each one; it's a little early in the season, so they're sour, but pungent and flavorful.

The so-called keeper, Jack as he calls himself, gives me the once-over; I can't help but feel uneasy, like he's sizing me up. He's not armed, as far as I know, but this is still an unfamiliar district and puts me in the rather degrading position of relying on this guy not to get me lost.

"Andrei."

[Jack Lexington]

Leaning my back against the wooden storefront to take some weight off my legs I watch him shove some strange berries in his pocket and then eat them. My mouth is watering at the sight of it. Probably because all they fed me in district 7 was whatever they had left over after their meals and I had nothing to eat since we left district 7 almost two days ago. I'm starving but have no money on me.
"So you're just going to stand there and make me watch you eat, Andrei? Hand some of that stuff over." My voice is commanding just like I've heard those keepers talk on the train.
Without waiting for him to offer me any food I reach for the bag and simply grab what falls into my hands first: Bread. The smell of it drives me insane and it's gone before Andrei can protest. I don't care if that the last he got. If you were to compare me with an animal starved, angry coyote comes to mind.

While I lick my lips and swallow the last bite I keep my eye out for observers but there aren't many people here and whoever sees us hurries on, probably because of my uniform.
Suddenly something crosses my mind: The letter. That incredibly important letter the scientists handed me that I was supposed to guard with my life. When we first boarded the train I had shoved it in my boot. The doctors taken my clothes while I was in their 'care' and now I was wearing them again. But was the letter still in my boot? There's not enough feeling in my left foot to wiggle my toes and feel for it. I'll have to wait until the store opens.

Noticing his inquisitive stare I state: "I'm assuming you are a decent carpenter wherever you're from if you've been selected for this honor."
To my relief a jingling gives away that the store has just been opened.

Briefly I tell Andrei to wait here and then step inside. As soon as the man sees my uniform he starts breathing faster and steps aside.
"How can I help you?"
"I need clothes."
"Very well, sir. Of course, you won't have to pay."
That's how those peace keeping bastards get so rich and fat.

A few minutes later the much hated unifrom drops to the ground.
The letter is completely shoved to the front of my boot but still there and unopened.

Feeling like a newborn I step outside with the bell jingling above my head again and the uniform in a bag slung over my shoulder. As far as I'm concerned the blue canvas pants, white shirt, hat to cover my missing hair and lined leather jacket are not only the most expensive clothes I ever owned but also suit me a hell of a lot better than that darn uniform.

"Let's go."

[Andrei Ehrenström]

The way the guy, Jack, looks at my food suggests he hasn't eaten for a while; what I wasn't expecting was for him to reach into my backpack and take out the loaf of bread. My reflexes are decent, but I can't stop him in time to keep him from eating the whole thing. I've been pretty patient so far, but this is the last straw; hell, it would have pissed me off even if I hadn't been pushed around by Keepers all day. I grab the front of his uniform and shove him against the wall of the shop.

"What's wrong, you government mutt?" I hiss, using my forearm to pin his body to the wall, "They don't feed you? You, their special ops? You know stealing is an offense punishable by death."

And oh, I'm very tempted to brandish the hatchet at him; nobody steals from me. Period.

Probably the only thing that stops me from taking it out and hacking a piece out of the wall next to his head is when the bell over the door next to us jingles. I step back, not wanting to attract any more attention, but I'm not about to drop being stolen from, let alone by a keeper. I wait outside while he disappears into the store, rearranging my backpack so the food is stowed at the bottom, well out of reach of any thieving hands, and my hatchet now hangs from its designated loop on my belt as a warning.

[Gale Hawthorne: Ace Attorney]

Captain Artemis Falcon

He certainly wasn't expecting the tour, but he only had himself to blame. He was boarding a train after all. Before he was within earshot of the vehicle, his plan was to shut the train down, but as he took the first step through the door, he reconsidered. Charging in like the Inquisition scared off criminals the way sudden movements scare off flies; giving them a chance to flee the train wasn't an option.

A good officer of the law knows when to speak and when to listen.

Artemis Falcon kept his motto in the front of his mind at all times, and this was the time to listen. There were quite a few passengers on the train, but only four or five stood out to him as suspect. Most of them filtered out from stop to stop, much to his ire, but by the time the train reached District 10, the last of them found their way out, including the one he found most disturbing.

The man in question? A thin gentleman in a Peacekeeper uniform. His uniform was worn properly, and he didn’t necessarily look weak, but something was off. He didn’t walk with the same gait. He didn’t look with the same stare. His outward behavior was spot-on, but inside… He doesn’t feel like a Peacekeeper. His thought process may have been close to serving him well. Breathing heavily once as he remembered his check-in at District 7, he stood up from his seat and followed suit with the other passengers as they left.

For all his usual diligence, he was still unnerved by the appointment he might miss altogether. As far in the right as he thought he was, the thought was still enough to affect his performance. He found himself lost among the crowds at the station for quite some time before he was back on track, but by the time he was out of the station, a familiar face had caught his eye.

Last time he had seen the gentleman, he was in a uniform that matched his own. Why the man would be in such casual clothing now was beyond him… unless he didn’t want to look like a Peacekeeper. Trying to duck for cover behind a market stall, he followed the man with his eyes through the lenses of his glasses. He would confront him – he’d be damned if he didn’t – but it would require timing.

[Jack Lexington]

While I was getting the changed in the shop I was thinking about my reaction to that carpenters outbreak, which was none. I simply stared back at him and disregarded it with only a small smirk crossing my lips because he was quite courageous to scold a peace keeper.
A real peace keeper would have knocked his head forward and broken the guys hand as soon as he laid it on him so it would be time for me to do something when I come back out.

As soon as we're around the corner I grab the guy by his throat and now it's my time to push him against the wall and use the hatchet from his belt against him.
"You don't lay your hands on me ever again. Is that clear?"
The hatched lays heavy in my hand so I weigh it before I haul off and hammer it forward into the wooden wall behind him.
"Next time it'll be in your face."
All the while I can't help but wonder why Hilent sent the guy after me. Is he supposed to be helping me? I wish the guy who had protected me in his very own way would have told me what to do with this carpenter.

I see the shadow of a man pass the alley and let go of his throat but leave the hatchet in the wall.

OOC: Sorry, short!

[Andrei Ehrenström]

I realize a little too late, after the guy goes into the shop, that threatening a Peacekeeper was a bad idea. But I was too mad to care much; they brought me here to do their dirty work, and this little punk who was barely a grown man was stealing what little I had been able to bring with me. Just thinking about it was enough to distract me from the jingling of the door when Jack came back outside, gasping when his hand closed around my throat and shoved me against the wall. In my defense, if I'd been paying attention, he wouldn't have gotten within arm's length. I grip the forearm holding my neck, thumb digging into the weak point on the inside of his wrist, glowering at him between the spots starting to dance in front of my eyes.

"Steal from me again," I rasp, "And I make no guarantees."

He has my throat, my hatchet, and the advantage of being (allegedly) a Peacekeeper; I might as well be asking him to kill me. But I know I'm somewhat valuable, if the fact that I was the only one assigned to do construction on their big secret headquarters is any indication.

The hatchet lodges itself heavily into the wood by my head; it's less the blade and more the threat that make me uneasy. Even without the hatchet, I could take this guy down on his own. A group of Peacekeepers, only in my wildest, most rebellious dreams.

I don't know exactly what it is that makes Jack let go, but he looks away long enough for me to tug the hatchet out of the wall with one hand, weighing it in my palm and imagining it sinking into his foot before slipping it back into the loop on my belt.

[Jack Lexington]

When I turn my attention back on the carpenter the hatchet is back in his belt. He could have hacked it into my head for all I know but he didn't! I don't know why. One thing I'm sure off though is that I would make a horrible peace keeper. I'm just not a fighter.
The expression on his face tells me that he's ready to jump at my throat though and I'm pretty sure that he's the stronger one of us since I'm more or less skin and bones right now.

"Let's get moving." I growl and step back onto the sidewalk.

With the slightly older guy in tow I make my way down the street, turning the corners like I own this town and actually spot a familiar face. The man used to be my teacher a few years ago so I quickly turn the other way to avoid being recognised as long as I have the guy in tow.

Finally we get out of the city and start walking away from it on one of the many dirt roads leading from one town to the next in district 10.
After half an hour of walking in silence I can't take the pain in my right leg anymore. Whatever I was on before is out of my system now and I realize that walking on a broken/glued back together leg is right up there with getting my ass spanked by my mother when I was younger. Very unpleasant!
Gritting my teeth I keep hobbling but become slower and slower.
Why don't I just tell the guy to get back on the next train and leave or....the truth.
"I have to stop." My voice is low and less confident that I would like it to be when I sit down on a rock on the side of the road and rub my sore legs and the bump that has formed over my right eyebrow.