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Still writing, don’t know how to stop. Don’t even feel like I know what I’m doing anymore. Story vomming isn’t happening at as frequent a rate, so that’s good. Means I can fill in my outline a little more and play around with things that happen post-Danni’s death. 

And now, for something completely different…

 

Jazz hissed in pain as the strap to his bag slid down his arm. A feeling of liquid fire filled his whole arm and shoulder, radiating into his chest. No doubt, that stupid bullet wound was infected. Maybe the bullet was still in there. Either way, he didn’t have the stomach to look. Didn’t have the ability to will the pain away long enough to change the makeshift bandage — a bandage he wasn’t sure could be removed, anymore.

He moved at night, and only at night. Dangerous in its own ways, but less stressful. Less people to spot him as he wandered down the streets — though he knew the NBEA never slept and kept their eyes open at all times. He hadn’t heard any shots fired in the past two weeks — at least, he thought it had been that long. Difficult to tell, when his vision would sometimes swim and he’d find it nearly impossible to keep them open. He rested when he needed to — which was far too often. As it was, he hardly covered any ground — hadn’t gotten any closer to the alleyway where he and Ryin had first gone their separate ways.

He needed to stop. To find an abandoned building and just rest. But all he could hear was Ryin’s voice in his ears, reminding him of how dangerous this city was. It may have housed their greatest ally, but the NBEA existed here in droves. They really did seem to be everywhere.

It was a wonder Jazz hadn’t managed to get shot again. As slow as he was? He made an easy target. Looking up towards the sky, Jazz noticed the sun was setting. In another hour, he’d have to move again. Maybe cover another five miles. Ryin had to be out there. Ryin had to be waiting for him. He just had to.

He couldn’t let down his best friend. Couldn’t let this stupid infection beat him. But without antibiotics — without any sort of medical attention, it might. It just might. Shivering, Jazz pulled his shirt tighter around his body, tugging his cap down past eye level. He needed to survive this. Just for a little while longer. Just until Ryin found him — or he found Ryin, whichever happened first. Another painful throb wracked his arm as he reached for the first rung on the fire escape. Higher ground. When really fucking lost, find higher ground. Ryin’s voice over and over in his mind. Jazz hated heights.

But he had to. Even if it meant putting himself through excruciating pain, he had to. Had to listen to Ryin’s advice, just this once. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find his way through the city — find his way around the NBEA hidden in pockets at various points throughout the area. The climb sapped him of his energy, but he found himself at the top. Rolled over the raised edge of the roof, careful of both his ankle and of his upper arm. It amazed him, how much pain he could actually endure. He certainly felt as though he had experienced enough to last him a lifetime. Hell, maybe all that time spent under “observation” at the Orphanage had come in handy — gave him a tolerance for pain that most didn’t.

He didn’t want to think about that, though. Not now. Not when he still had to figure out where, exactly, he was, and where it was he needed to go.

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