Vita - Chapter 5: Downfall - Part 3

Part 3: Conveyor Belt
(Travis)
"I'm telling you the truth!" Matt yelled to Travis, frantic, "T-T-They sell dead people in Dreber!"
"I'm not telling you again. Get out of my apartment." Travis was holding Matt at gunpoint. Matt begged Travis to listen and believe him, while all Travis believed was that his "friend" was high again, "I swear to fucking god, I'm going to shoot you, Matt..."
"Dude, please, you need to spread this..."
"I'll give you five seconds."
"Dude-"
"One."
"Come on!"
"Two."
Matt kept backing up until he was against the door, desperately trying to reach for the knob. "W-Wait, I-I'm trying to open it!" His paw kept slipping, him not being able to open it.
"Three." Travis took steps forward, aiming directly at his forehead.
Matt panicked, turned around and opened the door with both of his paws and got out, but not without turning around, holding the door, "But, please, think about w-what I said!"
"...Four." Travis put his finger on the trigger. Matt immediatelly yelped and shut the door, "..." Travis sighed. He sat down at the table, leaving his weapon on it, thinking about what his friend said, "...What fucking sense does that even make...the Clockers are fucked up, but...kidnapping randoms and turning them into meat is way off-" Travis heard his alarm clock in his bedroom. It wasn't for him to wake up, but, to remind him to head to work. Travis sighed, got up and left the hotel, walking to the factory.
---
At work, Travis was responsible for checking the shoe's quality on the conveyor belt and throwing it in a box until it was filled. He was supposed to do exactly that for hours.
Travis looked around, noticing the emotionless and even sad expressions on each worker's face, some with dark circles present on their eyes. Travis sighed and looked at the boot in front of him. He didn't even check it. Just threw it in the box and left it there.
Break time came. Travis and his fellow workers headed for the small, cramped break room with nothing but a fridge, a few counters, a sink, a coffee machine and a small table with few chairs around it. Travis drank coffee as workers walked around him.
"Why did you take so long to come back?" A feminine voice asked in front of Travis. It came from a red haired cat, her fur dirty with dust, black eyes around her eyes as she held a mug of coffee.
"I had given up, until...my boss convinced me to return."
"Oh...oooohhhh...did he...like...threaten you?"
"..." Travis nodded, "Let's not speak of it."
She nodded, "...What's your name?"
"Travis..."
"Oh...you're not wearing your uniform so, you know..."
"I don't give a damn about anything anymore, really...I see your name is Lucy."
"Y-Yeah..." She sighed.
"...Anyhow, how are you? Can't be worse than me."
"...I got 3 children, 2 are sick and my husband is fuck knows where..." She sighed, "...We divorced..."
"..." Travis nodded, "...That's horrible..."
"...How about you?"
"I...I lost a friend...got threatened...and...pretty much that..." He sighed.
"I'm sorry about your loss."
"Yeah...we had a terrible fight..."
"May...may I ask about what?"
Travis froze up for a moment, "...It's private."
"...Alright..."
...
(Jacob)
"...Wuh..." Jacob groaned as he woke up from his sleep.
"Took you long enough. Your wrist shall be 50% healed in exactly 48 hours, 11 minutes and 20 seconds."
"You better not have done anything funny to me while I was asleep."
"Apart from removing your whole paw, not much."
"Wait, what?"
"Look!" Tarnell grabbed Jacob's paw and showed it to him, it still being visibly there, "It's gone! IT'S GONE! But not really. Get up." Jacob stood up, his wrist bandaged and impossible to move without flinching from a bit of pain, "Go get some rest. You can't do much with this damaged wrist. Go on now." He pointed the door, "Go. Be free."
"Okay..." He said as he walked towards the exit.
"Be free...be free like a butterfly. Fly. Fly. But don't forget to watch out for the predators! Oh no! A predator! It's coming! OH GOD-"
"THANKS AGAIN." Jacob said loudly, shutting the door, "...And I thought I was a freak."
...
"Jacob." Daniel said as he entered his office, sitting on the chair.
"Daniel." Jaocb replied.
"..." He sighed, "...I suppose you can't do shit with that wrist..."
"Nope..."
"...Well...Ronald." Daniel spoke up, lighting a cigar.
"Yes...?"
"Have you spoken to Beverly?"
"Yes...She's making a bomb from the cooker I brought a few days ago."
"Great...You'll do the job yourself."
"Details?"
"You'll be driving a car inside a mechanic of theirs and you're going to blow it up with the pressure cooker in the trunk."
"...I expected something more harmful."
"Is blowing up a whole settlement of theirs not harmful enough?"
"I think we should capture it instead. Just attacking them again and again will only fuel their hate toward us." Jacob proposed.
"Anger does things to you. Eventually, they'll lose their focus because of how pissed they'll be and just send guys towards us seeking our blood, but when that happens, we'll be ready!"
"...Dan, I really have a feeling that Jacob is-"
"Sure, sure, sure, hurry the fuck up and get to Beverly, see if she's done with the bomb!"
"..." Ronald sighed and left the office, "Unrespectful prick..."
Daniel looked at Jacob, "...Why are you still here?"
"Appreciating the fine piece of art that is your messy desk, boss."
...
"I put the bomb in the car." She said, sitting on the hood and smoking a cigarette.
"Already...?"
"I'm fast with these, sugar."
"...Definitely noticed."
"...So, what is your plan?"
"Dan told me to drive me this car straight into the Clockers' territory and park inside some mechanic and activate the bomb."
"...Is he fucking insane?" Beverly dropped her cigarette, "You're going to die if you do that. Hell, just by driving into the turf, they'll recognize you even if you wear something over your head."
"I know...I'm thinking of some other way right now to do this..."
"...What is even the point of this anyway?"
"I don't know, Daniel's gone crazy. Apparently he wants to provoke the Clockers or something."
"He's going to get us all killed like that. Shit, man, I don't know about you, but I'm out of this." She began to walk towards the open garage door.
"You can't leave, our guys will come after you, remember?" Ronald blocked her.
"Fuck it. I leave, you guys kill me. I don't, I get killed by the Clockers."
"If you think the Clockers can beat us, why are you here in the first place?"
"..." Beverly tried to come up with an answer, but, her mind went blank, "...Alright. I'll stay. I'm screwed either way..."
Ronald nodded and looked from Beverly to the car. A yellow sedan with its trunk open, the bomb inside, "I'm not sticking to Daniel's suicidal and idiotic plan...there must be a better way..."
...
(Travis)
Travis walked home, finding the cloudy weather fitting to his mood. He wondered if the clouds above were actually clouds or just pollution. As he walked home, he spotted a squad car turning around the corner. He immediatelly sat behind a dumpster attempting to cover his face with his hoodie as the car passed, apparently not noticing him, the officers inside probably mistaking him for a hoodlum. Sighing, Travis got up and continued his walk home.
Travis walked inside the hotel, avoiding any eye-to-eye contact and going upstairs. When he pulled his keys to open his door, he heard someone behind him clear their throat. A feminine voice.
"Are you Travis." An emotionless voice said. Travis turned around, seeing a vixen wearing a red beret, her brown hair covering her face.
"...Who are you?"
"Just answer me, are you Travis?"
"...I'm not answering until you tell me who you are."
The woman made a reach for her back pocket. Travis' fast reflexes pushed her away as she pulled out a butterfly knife. Immediatelly, the door behind Travis was kicked open, hitting him on the back of his head with such strength that he was knocked out, falling face first onto the ground.
"Hm..." the vixen said to the leopard walking out of the door, "Good job."
"Y-Yeah, I intended to do that." He scratched behind his ear.
"Let's just get him in the car before he wakes up."
(End of Part 3)
This is part of the Vita Series 
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