We seem to have lost contact with the Control Tower [Grinding Noises][Part II] (855)

307 Name: (*゚ー゚) : 1993-09-7820 00:36

>>303
Hooray! You casually declare yourself strong enough to horribly murder everyone, in keeping with your vow taken back at >>163, and saunter off towards where you remember the camp being. As you round the last corner in the path, however, you are confronted by a sight most horrifying. Dismembered corpses of grunts are strewn hither and thither across the plaza. You're no expert in forensics, but judging by the size and extent of the sprays of dried blood, and the fact that various body parts are entirely detached and metres away from their original bodies, it seems they were murdered rather violently, with a sharp impliment.

Beyond the carnage, the double doors leading to the camp proper are still open. The various colourful chalk murals still stand, as starkly oblivious of their grim surroundings as the late grunts were of theirs. In the corridor you see a girl seated in a wheelchair. Similar to your first daughter, she is wearing the threadbare remains of a seifuku. There is a backpack slung over the back of her wheelchair, with various unidentifiable things sticking out of it. She has a harpoon gun in her lap, which, as soon as she catches sight of you, she raises and aims at you.

She appears to be in very poor shape, physically. Her skin is deathly pale, her eyes hollow and her hair wiry and dishevelled. There is a large reddish black patch at her breast centred around what appears to be a severe, potentially fatal puncture wound. Her legs, from the knees down, are mangled almost beyond recognition, with splinters of bone breaking clean through the skin. Her wounds are dressed in copious amounts of congealed blood. Her face bears a look of depthless Weltschmerz.

"Christ, not you again." she mutters to herself, "You'd sodding well better have brought some food."

>>304
You stare gormlessly at her, your two hard earned sausages hanging at your side. She gestures at them and demands that you hand them over. You instead spit out some comment about how lucky you were to be blessed with two beautiful daughters, and how foolish you are to have cast aside this providence.

>>305
"I'm sorry!" you exclaim, suddenly returning to your senses, tossing your sausages at the girl. "I have faith in you! I'll work hard for you, I promise!" With a facial expression like a stone wall, she rolls over to the meat products and tucks them into her backpack. She stares at you a few seconds, sighs and vaguely accepts your aid.

"Well," she begins, "I suppose you're wondering about all the mutilated corpses? The camp was attacked last night, by a single person. They killed eleven of our number, but ran off when I confronted them. It was dark, and I only saw them briefly," a shadow of doubt flashes across her face, as she continues, "but I could've sworn it was... a girl I used to know."

The corners of her lips rise in some unconvincing mimicry of a smile, and she says sardonically "Well, it's that many fewer mouths to feed, isn't it?"

>>306
In lieu of a response, you get to your knees and start striking yourself in the back with the nail file you happen to be holding, it being the closest you have to a whip. You grit your teeth and nobly bear the pain, knowing that every lashing is one step closer to salvation. The girl looks on disdainfully, then makes her way back indoors, calling out obliquely over her shoulder "Whenever you're done there, come join me in the atrium."

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