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Tag me @delaineycrow
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Post by Delainey Crow on Dec 7, 2014 16:51:35 GMT
Wind swept up, causing ruffles of hair to float in front of her face and fade her vision. She cocked her head, whipping the wisps out and quickened her sprint. Her breaths came out evenly. Being on the run was humdrum. An everyday task.
She was a gang member. Called herself the 'Head of Economics,' which translated loosely to thief. She made sure her family had enough to keep them going. And in Delainey's case, keeping them living comfortably. She was too good at her job. She took without remorse from anybody living luxury. And what were you supposed to do when your only family were a band of gangs?
She slid behind a building, the raggedy smell of dumpster leading her further down the alley way. She crouched behind a dumpster, one hand clapped over her nose, the other poised at the gun at her hip. Delainey was too good at her job. She took needlessly sometimes. This was one of those times. Her vendetta against the Capitol was personal. So she took and took and took.
She peered out from behind the dumpster, pursing her wind chapped lips.
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