this is war. | closed.

[JOHN MERCER]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. open. WORDS. 675 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. time to get the ball moving. [/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;] They were coming from all sides, grasping for him, trying to take him down like wolves would an elk. But he wouldn't have it. Not this time. He turned and spray-fired, but it was too late. His ammo too low. His turn caused him to slow, and soon, he was caught- John Mercer sat up in bed, gasping for air. Another dream. How long would they last for? He couldn't be sure. It had only been a recent thing, since he had discovered what was going on behind the closed doors of The Lab. The labcoats, as he called the scientists, were up to no good and he had to put a stop to it before they did more harm to the other patients. But how the fuck was he going to do that without them getting suspicious? It was bad enough he was kept apart from the others, his room being in the farthest corridor. But John suspected it could be because he used to wake screaming. But...weren't there others who did that? He was certain that one Jap girl was one of them, too. And then there was that trouble-making kid. Why wasn't he kept away? The blonde ran a large hand through his hair and sighed, reaching beneath his mattress for his pack of smokes. He lit one up before rising from the bed to circle around and think. There had to be a way to get into that lab and stop shit from happening. And suddenly, it was like someone had slapped him. The janitor. Duh, John, you idiot. He's bound to have a key. And he must know things. The man stopped walking and went over to his nightstand, flicking his cigarette ashes into a glass. Then, he brought it back to his lips to inhale, long and deep. It seemed to clear his mind even more as he came up with the plot. First, he needed to get to the janitor and get him on his side. Then, he'd need others. He considered the trouble maker. The boy'd make a decent distraction, he considered, smirking. It was a brilliant start. When he finished off his cigarette, he flicked the butt into the glass and turned to the door. For a long moment, he stared at it with icy blue eyes, as if considering the door. But, in reality, he was merely listening for noise. When he heard not a sound, the male approached it and turned the handle. He pulled it slowly, so as not to make a sound. Not that it would have mattered. His excuse would always be he needed to pee. John rolled his eyes at the thought. When did he become a prisoner in this hell hole? Slipped into the hallway, he padded toward the rooms which were occupied, but had no real idea who he'd approach at this hour. No one would be awake. He glanced at his watch. Yeah, it was two a.m. Most of the other patients would be fast asleep or drugged. Most of them being drugged. It seemed to be the answer to every problem in the Center for Disease Control. Long before the zombies, John thought that the organization was filled with intelligent, kind people. But he'd thought wrong. These doctors and scientists were all just looking to use people. And destroy them. But he wasn't about to become one of their little test subjects, and he was going to do something to put an end to their experiments; he didn't care if they were for a good cause. Refugees were brought to the CDC expecting safety and security. What they got was a prison cell and slop food. And if they spoke out, they'd disappear. John soon found himself at a corridor with two paths to choose from. He stared down each of them for a long time, debating which way to go. It was like choosing between good and bad, life and death. He didn't like that idea, but someone needed to be the hero.[/style]

[STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; font-weight: bold;] template by darkee of btn.[/style]

[JOSHUA STEELE]

[style=border-top:5px solid #5165ae; margin-top: 0; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma;] Joshua was on guard duty... again. After some of the security guards figured out what was happening behind the scenes, they died... due to "illness." Opposing the CDC alone meant death and Joshua knew this better than everybody else. He'd seen enough people disappear "mysteriously," after all. As long as he followed through with every command, Josh was safe. He wouldn't have to worry. That didn't mean that Josh was fine with leaving the others to die. No, he wasn't that inhumane. Yet, when deciding which meant more to him, his life always came up on top. He wasn't some noble hero that stood up for the common folk. He was a man doing whatever it took to survive. On the other hand, if someone actually came up with a rebellion, one that was not spur of the moment, well... Josh grinned as he stalked along. Without looking down, he fished in a pocky box he stole from the kitchen. Eagerly, he popped a pocky stick into his mouth. Honestly speaking, he'd probably be the best ally anyone could have. After being loyal for this long, Josh got access to almost every room in the institution. Sure firepower made a difference, but without keys, no door would open. It was built inside a mountain, after all. It was made to last. Strength would not be enough to take it down. Josh had the literal keys to success. Yet, he was not going to hand over this priceless gold to just any person. He jumped swearing under his breath when a scream echoed through the halls. Josh averted his eyes in pity. Because he was stuck inside the building, he never truly saw the damage and horror that the zombies caused. He only saw the side-effects: mentally-scarred children, terribly mauled fathers who tried to protect his children... yet the screams were the worst. It sounded as if they were getting murdered. It seemed like every time someone slept, only nightmares awaited them. The situation was ironic in a way. No matter where the people escaped to, they would always be hunted, either by zombies or by fellow humans. Josh turned down the hallway into one of the more distant corridors. He wanted to make sure he did his job properly, after all. His nose wrinkled when the faint smell of a cigarette wafted through the air. He tilted his head in confusion. Apparently someone was up... at two in the morning. Josh shined his flashlight forward when he saw a figure approaching from a perpendicular corridor. Josh remembered him. Apparently the man was one of the first people to encounter a zombie. If Josh remembered correctly too, the man was also nosing around asking the nurse dangerous questions. "It's a bit late to be walking around at this time of night," Josh greeted with a small wave of his hand. He began on another piece of pocky as walked forward to the man. Josh didn't stay around long enough to see if the nurse caved under pressure. If she did, that opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. Yet, Josh would not allow himself to count his chickens before they hatched. He had to wait it out first, just in case. [/style] [STYLE=font:10px arial; font-weight: bold;]tags: open words: 549 notes: Pocky! credit: template made by razzle of btn[/style]

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[JOHN MERCER]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. joshua steele. open. WORDS. 652 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. kinda rambled there for a while, my apologies. [/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;] Standing there, like an idiot, probably wasn't the best of ideas, John supposed after a flashlight hit him. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes and let out a grunt of annoyance at the man's words. Of course it was late, dude. But who the fuck sleeps through the screams and the bad dreams? John didn't say that aloud, of course. He didn't wish to visit the Night Surgeon. Nope, not tonight. Or ever, for that matter. Instead, he lowered his hand slowly and said, "Well, I could lie and tell you I was on my way to the bathroom, suh, but I was bored and couldn't sleep." He came to realize that this man whom he thought was a security guard was just the janitor. Just the janitor? he thought, shaking his head just slightly at the thought. This man was the eyes of the place, the key to everything. He must make a friend of the man, John decided. So, he glanced down the other hall before looking at him. "I'm sure patrolling the halls is a boring job," he started to say before there was another petrified scream. John flinched, his own memories swimming forward, but he pushed them away with a grunt. Not today. Not now. He heard subtle footsteps, which made him almost freeze. But they were going the other direction. And he wouldn't get in trouble, would he? He was a good boy. John almost laughed at the joke. His nurse friend would beg to differ. He was always telling John that he'd be found out one day and then he'd disappear like all the other bad patients. But John swore he'd be out of this place before that happened. He just never considered how he'd be doing it. Well, the how stood before him. He just needed to win the man over. Hopefully the doctors didn't have him brainwashed into thinking he was doing good by keeping their secrets. John nodded behind the janitor and said in a hushed tone, "Why don't we go elsewhere? I mean, if you wanna talk. Unless you need to finish this patrol. But honestly, back there is pretty dead..." He wasn't exactly sure why he was being so open and carefree with this strange person, but he figured it was best to be that way, he figured. People preferred it when he was nice and laid-back. Because if he was all jumpy and shit, people would get suspicious, wouldn't they? He didn't care though. John always tried to be nice anyways. Even with the doctors. They thought it was strange, but he just shrugged them off. And he would mock them at times, though they were so stupid...John couldn't help but smile a bit as his thoughts wandered to the mocking. For one, there was a doctor who seemed to have this phobia of anything to do with germs. How she became a doctor, John will never know. Instead, he'd focus his time on doing little things to make her twitch. And mock the way she'd act. She didn't notice it, but he wished sometimes she would, just to see how she'd react. She was his favorite to pick on. The others were enjoyable, like the one most of the female patients drooled over. He was so full of himself, John thought he might crack if the mirrors disappeared. But John shouldn't be focusing on them, no...he should be focusing on the blonde male before him, with the keys to the kingdom. "How long have you been here?" he asked, starting down the hall neither of them had ventured down yet. He wasn't sure if this man would follow or call out or try to stop him, but John figured he could take the risk. He pulled out his cigarettes and held the pack out. "Want one? I promise I won't get ashes on the floor."[/style]

[STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; font-weight: bold;] template by darkee of btn.[/style]

[JOSHUA STEELE]

[style=border-top:5px solid #5165ae; margin-top: 0; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma;] Well, at least the guy didn't bother lying to him. Joshua respected that. After having to deal with the doctors for more than a year, he was over deceit no matter how small it may be. If people were going to say something, they should cut the crap and just be truthful. Joshua almost snorted under his breath at the man's next set of words. Boring? God damned right. He didn't understand why he had to patrol an inescapable fortress. If he ever met which idiot came up with that idea, Josh would make sure to punch his face in. Joshua swore under his breath when another scream erupted. Josh didn't know how much longer he could last doing these shifts. He had no clue what horrible things befell these people, but they'd probably get even worse treatment in the CDC. If Josh knew what was going on behind the scenes and chose not to do anything about it, wouldn't that make him just as worse as the doctors and scientists? He scowled and tried to dispel such thoughts. He looked up to see the man almost as shaken as him. The man probably wasn't any different from the others who screamed at night. Josh glanced down the hall when he heard footsteps. Thankfully, they sounded like they'd be headed the other way. The CDC seemed to be very edgy for the last couple weeks. He knew that both of them would be let go... but he knew that they'd be watched for a while. Josh was already worried enough about death enough as it was. He definitely was not in the mood to put himself closer to the guillotine. When the man offered to leave to a different place, Josh almost pounced on the offer. The farther he was from those footsteps, the better. Yet... Josh wasn't stupid. It was one thing being caught in the middle of the hallway. All they would have to do is use the bathroom excuse. Then they'd both be able to get off only with the consequence of being stalked for a month. Sure it was a bit harsh, but it meant life. It was a whole different ball game if they're caught having a conversation together. Knowing the CDC, the man and Josh would probably get accused of treason. That meant death. Josh bit his lip when he watched the man start down the adjacent hall. What to do... what to do... He let out a groan as he jogged to get caught up with the blond man. Josh could not believe he was allowing himself to take such a risk. He shook his head when the man offered him a cigarette. "No thanks. I got mine right here," He joked as he pulled out another stick of pocky. Josh wanted to laugh at himself. It took a lot of talent to pull out jokes at a time like this. "I've stuck here since... probably a couple weeks after that thing happened in Rutherford. A bit too long for my tastes... The doctors' offices are too dirty... Everything always seems to disappear... But you probably don't know what I'm talking about..." Josh paused and stared into the eyes of the blond CDC patient. "...Do you?" [/style] [STYLE=font:10px arial; font-weight: bold;]tags: open; John words: 560 notes: Eye contact makes everything serious~ credit: template made by razzle of btn[/style]

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[JOHN MERCER]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. joshua steele. open. WORDS. 350 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. trying to get ball rolling; lit break ftw. [/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;] John looked over at his new friend for a long moment, taking in his words. He let them soak into his brain, let them roll around in there until it seemed forever. Then, he shrugged. "I've been here longer, then. I heard about Rutherford from a friend. I know the feel, though. It fucking sucks here. I'd kill for some sunlight. This place is so fucking dank and stuffy it drives me nuts..." John let his voice trail off, taking in the man's next set of words. Something about things disappearing. Did he mean people? The blonde was aware of the people just up and leaving without a trace. But the nurse had given him a few hints as to what happened to them. Most were trouble makers, guards who asked too many questions, people who were far too nosy. John kept himself under the radar as far as he was concerned. He'd never had to visit the Night Surgeon. Which was where trouble-makers seemed to end up. So John shrugged. "I don' know what you mean. People steal all the time, y'know?" But he held the man's gaze for a moment, as if to say he understood. They walked in silence for a while before the soldier-turned-refugee spoke again. He'd long since finished his cigarette, burning it out with his fingers. He'd grown used to this, though, his fingers having since been calloused over with old burns and scars. It was then that he slowed his pace and said, "So what is your name, Mr. Janitor Nightguard? I don't think I asked you that. Though names are probably something we shouldn't discuss, I like to have names to faces. Y'know?" John smiled faintly and pulled out another cigarette. He hoped the other didn't mind him being a bit of a chain-smoker, not that he cared enough. He'd just as well do it anyways. What would the guy say? Cut it out, this is a non-smoking area. Fuck that, they were not allowed outside. And John was not about to give up his habit for the CDC being an ass.[/style]

[STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; font-weight: bold;] template by darkee of btn.[/style]

[JOSHUA STEELE]

[style=border-top:5px solid #5165ae; margin-top: 0; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma;] Josh's heart sunk in despair. The fish didn't take the bait. Josh sighed. It was either that he thought wrong of the man, or Josh wasn't obvious enough when dropping the hint. Either way, he wasn't sure where to go then. The man went on about wanting some sunlight before trailing off as if he were figuring out what to say next. Either way, Josh wasn't quite in the mood for talking anymore. He wanted to bang his head against the wall in irritation. When were people going to get smart enough to think for themselves? With his head full with such thoughts, he wasn't quite thinking at the words the man said next. Yet, after the man was speaking, he held Josh's gaze. Yet before Josh realized it, the man turned away. He wasn't quite so sure of what to think of it. Josh didn't know if the man actually understood him or not. For all Josh knew, the man might like eye contact. He sighed. He wish he knew if he was overthinking the action or not. He laughed at the man's chosen nickname. "'Mr. Janitor Nightguard?' It matches me pretty well." However, in Josh's eyes, it was rather incomplete. Maybe it could be "Mr. Janitor Who Did Everything in the CDC While Trying to Preserve His Life Night guard." It was a bit longer, but more accurate in Josh's eyes. "The name's Joshua Steele. Yours?" At the moment, Josh wasn't sure whether or not the man knew or not. From what Josh saw, he made no progress in that area. Yet, maybe the man would drop more hints as time went on. As for now, Josh knew that he should just shut up and enjoy the conversation. He spent most of his waking hours cleaning or doing some other crappy work that the CDC forced him to do. Another free time he had was spent crashed out on his bed. Having a quality conversation with someone was rare, so Josh was sure to enjoy it all he could. He watched in curiosity as the man took out another cigarette to light. "Where do you get those from? Do they have a stock of cigarettes here?" He asked. Josh knew that people brought their own belongings to the CDC, but he thought it would run out by then. Yet, Josh knew that some of the doctors and scientists smoked. Maybe they all had their own secret stashes in hidden in some cubbyhole in the CDC. [/style] [STYLE=font:10px arial; font-weight: bold;]tags: open; John words: 429 notes: Do do do do do mahna mahna~ credit: template made by razzle of btn[/style]

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[JOHN MERCER]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. josh. WORDS. 452 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. THE FIRST SEED IS PLANTEDDD!.[/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;]Looking at the other, the blonde smirked. "I figured you'd like that nickname." He held out a hand and said, "Name's John. John Mercer." But the hand didn't stay there long, because he decided to put his cigarette back in his mouth and take a drag. It was about the time that his new friend asked about them. This made John grin. What would he tell the stranger? That he got them from his favorite nurse? He decided against it and just shrugged. "I mostly find them. Or get them from other patients. I've stolen at least one pack from the doctors. Don't tell them, though." He winked at Josh as he finished off the cigarette. He burned it out on his hand and stuffed the butt in his pocket. He was a bit polite about that, at least. The draftee was one of the few nice guys left in the world. Or at least, the world inside the Center. Without something to puff on, John decided to stuff his hands into his pockets after the butt. He'd run out of things to talk about, but he didn't want to stop talking. So he slowed his pace until he came to a stop and stared at Josh for a short time before he leaned close and whispered, "You know things, don't you?" so softly, it was barely heard. Then, he took a step back and tried to smile. The first seed had been planted in the janitor's mind. If John's instincts were right - which they usually were - the janitor would take the bait and help him in his escape. What the blonde really needed was the keys to the place. Mostly the armory, where his weapon was probably locked up. He sighed after a moment and started to walk again. Thinking of his gun made him think of his first kill. It wasn't like it was a big deal. Except that she had begged him to spare her. Her face flashed before him. She was a soldier, too. Young, pretty. She'd been bitten and he did not know if she'd last long. The bite was huge, nearly taken out her entire stomach area. She was bleeding so badly, yet, she'd begged him to save her. John shook his head slightly to get rid of her bloodied face. It was indeed time for a visit to the nurse. Nurse Dawson would know what to do. He glanced over at his friend and said, "Am I right? I'm usually right. But I won't say anything, if you promise not to." The words were nonchalant, but he was on his guard. He didn't quite trust anyone, though this man seemed to be trustworthy enough.[/style]

[STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; font-weight: bold;] template by darkee of btn.[/style]

[JOSHUA STEELE]

[style=border-top:5px solid #5165ae; margin-top: 0; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma;] Josh reached out and gave the man a firm handshake. The man certainly did seem like a "John." Sometimes Josh wished that he matched his name that well. He chuckled at John's next words. If Josh was a smoker, he definitely knew which doctor to steal from. So Dr. Russo did have a secret stash. Josh grinned mischievously. Snooping around the next time he cleaned the doctor's office seemed like a good idea. Who knows. If Josh found it, maybe he might accidentally... "lose" it somewhere. "Heh. No problem. My lips are sealed." Josh couldn't hide the joy he felt when the man decided to put the cigarette butt in his pocket. Even though it was a relatively small facility, there was a surprising amount of trash. People did not have the decency to clean up after themselves. He was so pleased he almost didn't notice John stop up ahead of him. In what seemed like a split-second, John whispered something and retreated. Josh's eyes widened. Did he hear right? The man's smile confirmed his suspicions. As the thought of it slowly started processing, Josh began to laugh. The more clearer it got, the harder he laughed. It got so bad that he had a hard time controlling his volume. He clutched his sides as his shoulders shook and tears glossed his eyes. It took some time for him to calm yet even though his laughs died, the large grin would not leave his face. "So, a smart one finally appears," Josh said as he brushed the tears from his eyes. He made sure to keep his voice quiet yet his amazement still shown clear. So he wasn't mistaken before. Usually when one tried to start a rebellion, they only conspired with the other prisoners. This man, on the other hand, was not dumb. No, John went to those who'd give him the upper hand. He was a strategist. Still, as much as Josh wanted to trust the man, he still had to be careful. For all he knew, John could be scoping through the government employees for traitors. Josh quickly straightened his back and wiped the smile from his mouth. Time to get serious. "Yeah, I know things. So what?" He asked. Josh scrutinized the soldier carefully. They both were on guard. John probably felt the same way Josh did, yet he wasn't going to say anything until John gave him a reason to trust him. Josh knew that it wasn't fair to put the burden on John, but that was the only way Josh would ever side with the rebellion. If someone trusted Josh enough to put their life at risk, then Josh would do the same. He pulled out another pocky stick from the box and nibbled on the top. Hopefully the soldier caught Josh's unsaid command. Give me a reason to trust you. [/style] [STYLE=font:10px arial; font-weight: bold;]tags: open; John words: 490 notes: HAPPINESS!!! credit: template made by razzle of btn[/style]

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[JOHN MERCER]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. joshua. WORDS. 618 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. the end? feel free to reply, but i'll say we're done here. we can start a new one if you'd like.[/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;]It seemed like John could trust this guy, but he still hadn't quite proven that he wasn't a spy, neither. John knew he wasn't, his friend had told him as much. He knew which people he could trust and which ones would rat him out. This janitor was someone he could put his faith in. But, he still had to pass the test. Laughing wasn't helping his case so much as the man might have expected. In fact, John was taken aback by the other's laughter that he had to glance around, nervously. The fit lasted a few moments before things were silent again. The moment passed from being funny to serious. Joshua's words seemed like a jab, but John took it like a man, merely shrugging. He made a good point. So what if the janitor knew things. They always did. What could John do? Force it out of him? But how could he do that without getting into trouble? A sigh later and John shrugged again. "Well, I dunno, Joshua. I was hopin' you could level with me and perhaps...assist me with some things." Perhaps that would do it? The blonde knew he had to trust the man if he was going to get anywhere in the hell hole. Taking a moment, he stepped away from the situation at hand and tried to imagine what exactly he needed from this gentleman before him. Not that the male didn't already know, he just needed to assess the situation and assure himself that he was going about it the right way. When he agreed that he was doing it right, he returned from his thoughts and smiled a bit. "I'm not sayin' you should put your neck out there for them butchers. I'm just sayin' you shouldn't let these innocents suffer. Y'know? I'm trying to help them. But I can't do it alone. So whether you help me or not, that is your choice. You don't have to answer now, though. I'll let you think on it. If you agree, we'll meet in two nights outside the bathroom on my wing. If you don't wish to assist me in getting the fuck out, so be it. I understand." With that, he took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake. Then, he turned on heel and was going to head back to his room. But first, he paused and looked at the man and in a very serious tone, said, "I don't wanna die here. And if you don't either, then you should help." And with that as his departing words, John Mercer headed back toward his room. It seemed like a long walk, mostly because his mind was swirling. Whether it was from a nicotine high or from planting the first seed, he wasn't too sure. All the blonde knew was that he might stand a chance against the bastards that had him trapped. And he might live to see the sun and stars. And escape. John had dreamed of escape from day one of being drafted. He hadn't had excuses to get out then, though. And it had cost him six months he couldn't get back. Although, he did have to wonder if he would have lived long enough otherwise. It doesn't matter, John. You have a reason now. You have to get out. You've gotta help these people and get them free so that you can lead them to a new beginning and start fresh. Hopeful thinking. It was a sure pain right in the ass. But if he wasn't hopeful, he wouldn't be able to convince anyone else to have it. So he had to hope and be strong. For the others.[/style]

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