bang bang pow [lalia&south]

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out

Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Quick steps echo these two instructions as the two of you make your way towards the scrapyard. There's only one way to fix the mistakes that the girl has made in a physical way, and the answer lies with her. She's been rumored to be so frightening that people run away as soon as they look upon her spiked hair and hear her her heckling voice. And with her revolvers that look more realistic than anything, mysterious whispers have passed from worker to worker, talking about her power and prowess, her agility that would be required to attain a gun from a Peacekeeper [because clearly, that is the only way to acquire a gun] She is Bang Bang Harlow [calling her by her real name can get a bullet between your eyes before the last syllable exits your ignorant mouth], the Queen of the Junkyard, and you need her.

You've traveled this way often - you live on the poor side of town [it's a wonder how you managed to make friends with the particularly rich Lyla Matheson], and the junkyard lies in your path on the way to the factory. Oftentimes, a Peacekeeper is stationed here to prevent citizens from acquiring raw materials - goodness knows how rebellious the whole of District 3 is, and in order to prevent the creation of weapons made out of trash, violence is issued on anybody caught entering without good reason. However, today there is no guard, and instead loud booms are audible as the two of you draw nearer and nearer. It's rather similar to the sound of gunshots, and for a moment you're drawn back into the dark, dank Detention Center, where gunshots became a normal occurrence. You've only recently been released, and the nightmarish sounds of screaming and malicious laughter permeates your dreams daily.

You're not too keen on going back there, and so it relieves you that the only thing separating you from the Queen is a simple wooden fence, rather than the barrel of a Peacekeeper's gun. Then again, it would have only been your fault if you were to have been arrested again. You were the one who had been so determined to go to the junkyard tonight. Lyla's fingers were intricate things, and although the girl had a high IQ, she was adept at hacking, not inventing and recreating. That was always your job, and even though you had regretted it in the past, you were all for it now. The Detention Center had changed you - for better or worse, you still weren't quite sure, but you knew that trying to stay in the shadows was worthless. That's what you did before, and look where it got you?

You still have the deep, protruding scars from when the Peacekeeper dragged you into interrogation. For every question you refused to answer, he'd cut you deeper and deeper until the blood practically squirted out of the wound and your screams permeated his ears with such ferocity that he stopped only to punch you into submission. There was one running vertically down your left arm [that was just to threaten you] and another one that started on your right cheek and dragged diagonally until it reached your collarbone [that one was from refusing to admit that you and Lyla had hacked the Capitol's electricity system]. Every day you are forced to look at yourself in the mirror, the wounds protruding from your body, showing that you sinned against the Capitol. And you hate it – you know you didn’t deserve this fate, and if anything, it is the reason that you have attempted to grow something of a backbone. No longer will you simply sit and take the pain. No, you are the predator now, and they had better know what’s best for them.

And that alone is what wills you to walk through the junkyard entrance, rather than let Lyla walk in first. You're the one that has to start the cordial introductions; Lyla's smart, but at times she can be a bit of a hothead, and conversations with Bang Bang Harlow always require a little bit of patience. You pull out a few lollipops out of your pockets while you're at it - rumor has it that she is rather partial to sweets. Getting on her good side certainely won't help, especially when you need to find a smorgasbord of supplies. Fingers don't come cheap after all. The explosions are ridiculously loud now, but you manage to shout "Bang Bang Harlow?" over the cacophony, hoping that she will hear, and perhaps, come closer.