* FULL / COMMANDO

LILO AND STITCH PROMPTS .

❛ Red. You asked for my name, that’s it. ———–Wait? His name wasn’t 10K was it? We are heading in that direction, the crows have been telling us were to go if you want to join us. The kid wouldn’t mind as long as you don’t hurt the birds.  ❜

There was a weary smile that worked its way on his features at the familiarity of the sniper’s name. “You know 10k?” he’s asking, his eyes flickering to the younger boy before back to the girl. “The name’s Mack, by the way. The birds are a bit ... weird, but I suppose everything is off from normal these days?” He gives a light, self depreciating chuckle before shaking his head, “I won’t hurt the birds.”

          addy had been broken so many times before, weakened by traumas that always could be accounted for in scenarios like the hell they were in. when mack broke there was no one left but her to patch herself together. the rest of the group had a mission, it was up for her to fix the ache that followed his passing. people died, and the more you cared about them, the quicker it seemed you lost them. she remembered telling lucy that, but  -  she hadn’t lost him, he was here… in her arms. he was alive.      she remembers the last time he held her this tightly, this desperately  -  it was back in with the cannibals. philadelphia and the cacophony of crazy that laid there. they’d both had gone through so much in that expanse of time, and it showed. they were both warn, war-torn by an unforgiving world. then, after all this time, he says it   -   her full name and that’s it: home. the only home she’d had in the post apocalypse was here, and still in tact.         ❛ i thought you died, i  -  i didn’t mean to leave you… ❜                                                                          she repeated ‘i’m sorry’ like a mantra.

          addy had a hard time  recognizing the person she’d become most days. black hair had replaced blood red locks, she’d lost an eye, she wasn’t even human anymore. not really. well maybe somewhere but whatever she was now was more   -    or maybe less than who she’d been. when the figure says her name, she’s scared. oh, she’s terrified because that means a lot. the way he says her name, she knows who it is and what that means. if it’s real, it meant she left him for dead and if it isn’t that she’s losing her mind.             ❛  —— mack, ❜ her voice is light, airy even as she finds herself unable to think clearly. if this isn’t real, if there is no white light but a black shadow? she’ll take it. she’ll take the end and all that it implies if it means she gets to see him one last time. lucy would find warren, it would all work out. she doesn’t care, not how he survived, now how he wasn’t dead because she’s weak and her bat drops from her hand as if she never was strong enough to hold it.   she’s allowing herself to be weak.         it’s been so long since she’d ran like this, but she does  -  she doesn’t think twice as her arms, used to carrying the weight of the world wrap around him. she couldn’t stop herself if she’d wanted to. after all this time, he was alive. he was still here.

Murphy had since learned not to be surprised when things like this happened. Mack, alive? Just another day in the goddamn apocalypse, as far as he was concerned. He regarded the familiar face in front of him, face wrinkling in distaste.

“Welcome back from the dead. And yeah, this face ain’t getting any prettier, buddy. Get used to it.” Murphy scoffed.

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“ -- I was never dead in the first place, but it’s the thought that counts, I guess,” he mused, a downward twitch to his lips evident when the other spoke. He still seemed to not be completely at ease with Murphy’s presence, but -- a familiar face was a familiar face, and Mack hadn’t seen one of those in years.

                          it’s a moment, and it’s brief. it flickers like a candle in the breeze and for that moment addy carver almost has herself believing that it’s the ghost of a person she knew, of a man she’d given mercy to. of course, it’s impossible to know in this lighting but she knows better. she shot mack and then proceeded to beat the everloving god out of murphy. that kind of hope is delusional at best, and she knows that. she knows that it’s just someone who sounds similar, that her brain is trying to tell her otherwise. this isn’t like the encampment and mack isn’t going to save her.                            her bat’s reflecting the faint light from one of the traps, spikes dripping with walker blood. it was therapy now, in a way.  ❛ yeah, if it’s still there. either way, i have people i’m meeting there or in it’s corpse, ❜ she explains before nodding her head,  ❛ have been for a while now, was with operation bitemark before citizen z went dark. i can help you. ❜

    the dream of a cured world had ended, and so to with it   -   humanity as they had known it to be. people had begun reverting, enders were what they were called now. the only people it seemed that stayed alive these days were those that’d become heartless. those who were all too willing to  do what needed to be done, even if it made them sick. addy was always strong but she was alone now. alone once more and it was her own fault. she should’ve gone after lucy, but the best option she had was newmerica. they’d find each other there  -  she was so damned sure of it.       oh, she was tired though. weary, but persistent. her mission wasn’t over yet, there was no sleep for her, no rest for her. nothing true, for sleep was definitely not what it was even a few short years ago. now even the slightest noise made her stir, eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. she didn’t have to worry about the infected, except for maybe the blasters. the enders were something to be worried about though, they were more ruthless than the zombies and intelligent. it’s why she’s looking for the shell of a building.         something, anything.             like a beacon in the night she finds it, and a sense of relief washes over her. it was once a department store. that much she realizes as she creeps inside. they time capsules, dusty insights to the world before, and someone had it rigged with fresh traps. she narrowly avoids them only to find she’d awoken someone, and the voice causes her bat to lower. people can be reasoned with, most days. the voice sounds familiar, but she can’t place where. when she steps in the hallway, she can’t make out who it is.          ❛ just looking for shelter for the night, i’m headed to newmerica. ❜

            there was a sound that roused at his consciousness -- he had just managed to slip off; which, in itself, was a dangerous thing to do when alone in the hell that was the world they lived in. he had learned, early on, how to stir quickly and easily in order to try and preserve his life. if he was perfectly honest with himself, his self preservation had tipped downwards quite a bit since he had nearly died -- and he would’ve too. some days, even years later, part of him wished he had. he had no idea where the self dubbed operation bite mark was. no IDEAS where addy was, or if she was even still alive.    there was no california. no light on the horizon to keep moving towards -- nothing to continue fighting for, except for a fool’s hope that he would find something to latch onto to continue moving.     he’s standing, albeit reluctantly, and using the wall as a crutch to momentarily get himself into an upright position -- ignoring the lack of appropriate response from his bad leg; taking an off weight step towards the noise as he cradled his gun with both hands.          “who’s there?” he called out, a harshness underlying in his tone that he had learned over the years to cover up whatever tentativeness or fear might be harbored there. fear and hesitance would only get him killed, as far as he was concerned, and keep him from finding a tether of hope to latch onto. “ain’t nothing here for you to steal -- and it would just be a waste of time to kill me, i encourage you to move on.”