Who: Dixie When: March 07, evening Where: department store near the Capitol What: Getting revenge on some guards
Dixie claps her hands and giggles. This is a most wonderful coincidence. Three pigs have been led her way, one by one, pigs she would be able to pick out of a pen of a thousand. She has seen their faces up close, grinning and sweating, some of them grim when she dared to kick and bite them. Faces contorted to the most grotesque grimaces when they spat on her. They are the lowest of the low, and while they are not the head pig himself she will make do with those. And they even squeal for her, how NICE of them! While she arranges her supplies she sings a little tune she distantly remembers from somewhere. There are a lot of really unusual objects lined up on the old sales counter she pulled away so she can use it as a makeshift table. And she will use all of them. Finally, content with her work, she looks up at the three men, tied up and gagged and relieved of their uniforms, and she clears her throat.
A girl can do anything if she puts her mind to it.
"Gentlemen. I'm using this term loosely," she says with a chuckle. "It is so nice of you to visit me here, on neutral territory. Not so funny when you're the one without weapons, is it? You know, since you like playing games with helpless people so much I figured this would be right… up your alley." The last three words are spoken in a hiss as she takes a knife and slashes it across the first little piggy’s chest. She needs to write something, but she figures a knife will do just as well as the magic markers she found.
There is a lot of muffled complaining when she picks up glue and a big rainbow colored dildo she found and combines them to create a rather interesting unicorn. Or when she staples glittering pink fairy wings to another one's back. All three of them receive Pig noses and are coated in generous amounts of glitter. It's rather beautiful, especially considering how ugly they are underneath. Dixie titters at the noises they make. "Now, now, don't pretend you don't enjoy it, bitch."
Payback is almost as sweet as strawberry gum.
Outside, undead scratch at the doors, drawn in by the muffled noises of pain. Maybe she should have gagged her little piggies a little better, but she thought stuffing their underwear into their mouths would be an exceptionally nice touch. Especially because she found some tape with a tie dye print to keep them in place. Content with her artwork she looks at them and sighs, clutching her hands together in front of her. Wonderful. She drapes garlands all over the place, wraps streamers around the three empty clothes racks she hung the pigs up on, and finally grabs a can of neon pink spray paint to write on the wall behind them, whistling all the while.
All three of them have "rapist scum" carved into their chests, leaving scars that will stay with them, should they survive. Maybe she will leave the doors open when she goes home. Ha. Home. She has found a single train car in modestly mint condition in a half collapsed tunnel. That is home now. With a mix of anger and longing she thinks of the person that was supposed to be there for her, no matter what. He PROMISED. Her anger is swiftly redirected towards a shin with a hearty kick, and it makes her feel a little better. Then her eyes fall onto a few tubes of glue. The nasty kind that hardens almost immediately, and she smiles.
Fifteen minutes later she skips out of the building through a side door she propped open with a brick. She will come back later to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for their brethren. Maybe. Sometimes she forgets things.
Inside, the three men struggle to keep silent, to not attract the zombies shuffling outside. One of them has his hands glued firmly over his eyes. The next over his mouth. The third over his ears. Behind them on the wall the pink paint is still drying, filling the dusty air with it’s pungent odor.
The result of preaching totalitarian doctrines is to weaken the instinct by means of which free peoples know what is or is not dangerous.
They hear the rattling of the spray cans as Dixie sprays one more quote next to the door on her way out.
There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word-- Man
The last thing they hear is her laugh, lighthearted and clear as a bell, as she walks away to slink back into the tunnels to wait. And think about her next steps.