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By the Post Office, Friday afternoon

They had a giant, slapdash sling. They had three bowling balls, one for each of them. And they had something of a plan.

Tip stared up at the massive stone-and-metal thing that had reportedly once been her counterpart in this hell universe. The crack wasn't as big as she thought it was. But it was bigger than she'd been afraid it was.

"I really hope I'm right."

[ooc: For Hanna and Hanna and Tip]

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Hanna was looking upward, and trying not to shudder. Whatever had happened to this universe's Tip, it hadn't happened to her roommate. That was the important thing to remember. "If anyone should know what her weaknesses are, it should be you. And... if it doesn't work, maybe we can build a grenade launcher." She paused. "You know. With some help."

Hanna bounced on her toes, and gave a small sound like something in the underbrush, sneaking. She stopped and said, "Grenade?" rather hopefully.

Bowling balls would work, but BOOM was always better.

"Do you have one?" Tip asked. She suspected the answer was "no". "If this doesn't work, we run. Scatter. She definitely can't chase all three of us."

"No grenade," Hanna said definitely to her double. "Right. Um. We should probably get her to face us." Which would mean making a noise or something. Or calling out to it. "...after we load the sling. Bowling balls."

"Nein," Hanna said, a little sad. Oh well. "Balls!" She picked up two of them easily, and motioned to the other Hanna to start pulling on the sling. "Ready, ja?"

No. Tip was not ready at all. She thought she was, but she was 14, what did she know?

"Ready," she said. If she waited to be actually ready she'd never do it. And her other self had a right to not be a giant killer hell-statue. "HEY!" she shouted. "STUPID-LEGS!"

Hanna started stretching her side of their Sling(TM) and held the hammock steady so the new Hanna could place the bowling ball in it. A nice, shiny, sparkly pink one.

She had the feeling that if the adults knew what they were up to, they would be appalled. But then, most of the adults didn't have their perspective.

"Stone-face!" Not as amusing as Tip's call, but still appropriate.

Hanna made a series of noises that were a mish-mash of German, Russian, and Japanese for Stupid stone woman of stupid mixed in with a duck call.

"Ready...." What were the words that came after that?

There was a low, agonizing creak and then the grumble of grinding rock, and Tip sloooooowlyyyyyy turned.

Three bugs. Building a web.

How irritating.

Tip swallowed as the statue's face came full into view. God, she was so thin. What had this Tip gone through, that turning to stone seemed like a better idea?

"Aim," she said, more breath than words.

"Fire," Hanna said sharply, holding the hammock taut, pulling as hard as she could.

Hanna released the sling, and the shiny, sparkly ball flew high and steady, arching up, and then back down, faster and faster.

Tip turned her head to follow its progress, but couldn't move fast enough. The ball crashed into her left shoulder, above her already stumped arm. Cracks spread through her collar bone and down her breast. Chunks fell off her bicep, raising a cloud of dust and choking the fog.

Hmmm. That . . . itched.

Tip let out a breath. "I'm really glad we brought more bowling balls."

It was working. They just hadn't hit the bullseye yet.

"A little lower, and to the right."

Hanna re-adjusted the sling, and crouched down to check the sights before nodding. "It worked, though. We don't need heavier ammunition." Just better aim. "Okay, Again. Eins, zwei, drei--"

She released the bowling ball, a green-and-white marbled mass this time, and then stood, hoping, hoping, hoping.

Edited 2016-12-10 04:51 (UTC)

Another thing. Tip should move? Dodge. She hadn't needed to dodge anything in so long. Which way should she dodge? Left? Right? Maybe just step on the --

Oh. It hit her.

Oops.

The ball hit dead on target this time. Hanna really knew her stuff. Tip bit her lip hard enough to break the skin as she watched the crack across her double's chest expand and branch out, up and down, left and right. It reached up her neck and fractured her jaw. It went down her stomach and past her hips. She could see the statue trying to move again, stepping forward, but the knees broke off from the thighs and it listed back instead. Chunks dropped from her face. An entire dreadlock crashed to the street and lay there like a fallen tree before the dust and debris from the collapse obscured the view.

When it settled again, all that remained where the other Tip had been was her feet, now inert amongst the rubble. Dead.

"'Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair,'" Tip said. "Told you it was literary."

Hanna sagged in relief, then turned to squeeze Tip's shoulder, watching the dust settle.

"That was... spectacular." She gave Tip a curious look. "How did you know it would work so well?" Another thought that she'd forgotten to ask earlier. "And why the chest? And not the head?"

Tip wanted to hug Hanna -- both of them -- but wrapped her arms around herself instead. She couldn't quite look away from the last ruins of the gaunt, haughty face among the rocks.

"It's simple," she said. "How do you take down Tip Tucci?" She smiled ruefully, then winced when it pulled on her split lip. "You break her heart."

Hanna stared a moment, then hugged her, because what could she say to that? "I'm sorry," she whispered. This couldn't have been easy for her, no matter how tough she tried to be.

Hanna couldn't understand why this girl was sad, or why the other her was hugging her; but she felt sad too, watching them. She reached out to stroke the first girl's hair. "Is okay. Is okay." Her face twisted up. "Is okay?"

Tip tensed a little at the unexpected affection, then leaned her head against Hanna's.

Sorry for the face full of afro, there.

"Is okay," she confirmed. "Thanks. Uh. Danke. For the hammock."

She pronounced it more like "don-kahh", but hopefully Hanna would understand, anyway.

Hanna gave a huff of relief. "Welcome. Bitte. Is gut." She stepped away, and rolled up the hammock, business-like, detaching the bungee cords from it, and handing the other Hanna's back to her, pocketing her own. She picked up the last bowling ball, and considered it. Then shrugged, and bowled it down the street.

"Hunt now," she said. The other two were welcome to join her. Or not.

Hanna took her bungee cords, and watched the other Hanna, then rummaged in her pack, grabbing one of the cranberry juices and a soup can. "Here. Danke." She bit her lip, studying this other version of herself. "Nein. We're going back to camp. See you later?"

She felt like she should stop her, but... How? The other her wasn't long on conversation. Or anything but hunting.

"Good hunt," Tip said, wishing again that she knew more German. "Stay safe."

Putting the food in her own pack, Hanna laughed. "Safe?"

And turned away, jogging off into the shadows of the city, eyes open for whatever food or prey she could find.

She had the feeling it was a good day. Good for hunting.

Hanna shuddered suddenly, feeling chilled. "That was me. Could have been me." Could become her, if things kept on like they were right now. She shook her head. "Let's go back to the camp."

"Yeah." Tip shouldered her go-bag and turned her back resolutely on the rubble-strewn street. As they started back down the road, she bumped shoulders with Hanna. "Could be worse. She could be a giant evil statue."

Hanna bumped her shoulder back, and found a smile somewhere. "With people squished between her feet."

"That's just gross," Tip said. "I hate having anything between my toes."

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By the Post Office, Friday afternoon

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