Survival Of The Fittest

((Paloma Salt continued from Life Observes Itself))

She was glad she brought a flashlight, at least. Good choices: 1.

The older buildings in the Northside district were occasionally empty or unused, which made them really foreboding and also perfect for atmospheric photography. Paloma was usually reluctant to go out on late-night endeavors for pictures, but tonight it was pretty warm and clear-skyed, and she was feeling restless. So why not?

Well, let's list some reasons. One, 'pretty warm' did not mean 'warm', and Paloma did not do well with even slightly chilly environment. Two, cameras were hard to use in gloves, so her fingers were probably going to break off. Three, the warehouse was great for atmospheric shots, but it was also super-creepy.

So she was huddled in a big ugly purple coat, trying to hold her fingers still, standing to the side of a big empty building. It was dark and there was a good chance she'd be in really big trouble if she was trespassing. But she probably wasn't.

Paloma hissed through her teeth and tried to turn the flash back on. Stupid, cold, numb, can't-see-shit fingers...There were big windows, but it was hard to see in the dark when she kept using the flashlight or looking at the camera's digital display. Her eyes wouldn't adjust.

Paloma made a vaguely satisfied-sounding groan as she fixed the settings. Now to find something that was actually worth her time to photograph...

((Meka Gibson continued from Hell You Talmbout))

"Ok, now just like that," Meka muttered to himself as he raised the viewfinder to his eye.

He pointed the camera towards a large, rusty pipe that hung from the ceiling. He followed along the pipe, watching as it snaked along the wall before disappearing into a wall on the other side of the room. He zoomed in, and then snapped a picture.

"Nice," he said to himself.

He blinked to adjust his eyes from the camera flash. He was starting to get quite a few good pictures. He was sure he'd find enough for his project.

Meka had decided to mix up his next few slam videos. Instead of just filming himself standing against a white wall and talking to a camera, he could instead have a collection of photos that related to the content, and then have the audio of his work play over it. He had finally gotten a good audio file of "Don't Float. Fly" recorded, so now he just needed some images of pipes, sewers, grates, and other urban decay to help drive his point across.

It wasn't all he was going to do for the video, but starting with some static photography would surely help. He could always film himself wearing a yellow rain jacket and holding a red balloon later, but for now, he wanted to find the Derry sewers in Northside Chattanooga.

He wasn't too sure what this building had been used for in the past. It looked like a warehouse, but there was still plenty of scrap metal lying around. He could also see a ton of graffiti and damage to the structure, either from weather or man. Meka didn't pay no mind. He just needed to see how much rusty machinery and pipes he could find before he was caught trespassing. If it counted as trespassing. It probably did.

"Well, let's see what else there is," he muttered to himself.

Meka continued to walk around the room. When he had first arrived, it was still plenty light outside. The sun had gone down a bit, owed to the winter hours, so Meka didn't have as much visibility as he liked. He did have his phone to use as a flashlight, so he wasn't too worried.

As he walked around, his eyes trying to adjust to the diminishing light, he felt his foot step on something round. He quickly stepped back, feeling something move under his foot. Before he knew it, the object rolled forward and made a loud clanking sound.

Meka quickly flashed a picture, illuminating the room briefly. He then checked out the camera to see what the picture was.

"Oh," he said to himself.

It appeared he just stepped in a piece of rebar that was on the ground. He accidentally kicked it into a nearby metal shelf. That was pretty foolish of him, especially since it made such a loud noise.

Paloma's heart froze like a rock. It petrified.

Her flashlight cast a frantic, dancing ray across the area, but in this section there were too many obstacles. She could see crumpled and rusty metal sheets, plastic and shit, all kinds of stuff. Nothing moving. Okay. Paloma furrowed her brow and glared at the wall, as if glaring would cow her organs into holding still.

Ugh. So stupid. Paloma kept walking, her light source a little more jittery as it scanned. She'd honestly forgotten what she'd had in mind. Something spooky seemed to fit now, so maybe find some eerie, gloomy segment.

There was a lot of darkness, but after a couple of moments she found a pretty little patch of open sky through a busted hole in the roof. She stepped back, gazing up to capture the tiny glimmer of stars into the empty building, and took the photo. Her flash was a little brighter than she'd meant, but it actually kind of worked out well.

Then Paloma dropped her flashlight with a loud cracking sound, and it went dark. She paused for a second. Only a second.

"Mrrraaagh!"

Her muffled, angry shriek echoed through the night.

After getting his bearings straight after kicking the rebar, Meka looked around. There was still plenty to shoot while he had a bit of natural light to work with. All he had to do was find any grates or pipes that looked intriguing, especially if they had any cool rust patterns or any tagging on them. He'd have to be careful while looking around.

Of course, right as Meka found something else intriguing in his viewfinder, he heard the sound of a terrifying shriek pierce the darkness. Meka hunched his shoulders up and pulled his arms and camera closer to his chest.

"Oh hell no," he muttered to himself.

There was no way he was going to get murdered by a sewer clown, but he was still sure there was something horrifying going on. If it was a girl's scream like he thought it was, there could be a mugging or a rape or something else vile going on. As far as Meka knew, this building could be used by some Droog-types for some unsavory activities.

"Ok, stay calm. Stay calm," he muttered to himself.

He began to slowly walk through the room. He had a vague idea where the door out of the room was and how far he'd have to go to leave the building. He just prayed he wouldn't become witness to a crime or be mistaken as a perpetrator of a crime. Meka knew how things surely looked to the police if they came by, so he had to do whatever he could to get out alive.

After about three seconds, during which Paloma could hear the echo of her scream prance throughout the area, ascending in pitch and embarrassing. Suppressing another noise of disdain, Paloma dropped to her knees and fumbled around for the stupid thing, only taking a moment to put her expensive camera into her purse first.

Ugh, the floor was so grimy and wet. "C'mon, c'mon, you stupid shitty-" Oh, there it was. Paloma picked up the small cylindrical object, then immediately dropped it with a squeal when it became apparent it was a soft, squishy thing made of wet paper. "Fuck."

Okay, here it was. Her eyes were adjusting to the light, at least, so this was definitely her light and not a toilet paper roll. Seriously, what the fuck. Paloma picked it up and rose to her knees, examining the device for cracks. She couldn't tell if the bulb was damaged but the switch was set to 'on'. Maybe it was just loosened-

"Ahh! Jesus Christ!" A slight nudge of the flashlight's lens sent a resurgent beam of light through the air into Paloma's dilated pupils. "Are you kidding me?!" Rubbing her face with her free wrist, Paloma stood up and groaned. Flicking the flashlight forward, Paloma started walking towards the...maybe exist? Fuck.

The bulb was a little flickery, though, so gee, she really hoped she could get outside before it went dark again. That would be nice right? Then Paloma heard a sound, a soft and muffled thump like a footstep, and she whipped towards the sound. She had a brief glimpse of a humanoid form and wide eyes, then the bulb died again.

Without thinking, Paloma flung the flashlight towards into the darkness in front of her.

Meka saw what looked like light nearby. So it appeared someone was here as well. He raised the camera again, hoping to take another picture of the area. Before he could, the light turned towards him and disappeared. He was about to take a picture when he felt something hit his arm. He let out a cry as he felt something fall to the ground.

"Ow! The fuck?!?" he screamed.

Okay, now he was definitely under attack. He quickly flashed the camera again, hoping to find out who was throwing stuff in this warehouse.

Oh, so uh, that didn't sound like a would-be felon whose plans had been foiled. That sounded like an angry guy who randomly got hit with a flashlight. Which was now on the ground, flickering. Stupid piece of shit.

Paloma winced as the guy's own light beam hit her in the face like fingers in her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and stepped back reflexively. "Ow, ow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Averting her gaze, Paloma dropped her her knees and picked up her light, pointing the beam at the ground instead of the guy's face. Improvement? The more ambient light let her pick out his features. She actually kinda knew Meka; they had some of the same friends and did some online stuff, so she'd seen or at least been aware of his slam stuff. Not her thing, but whatever.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snapped, the imminent-danger-fear quickly replaced by annoyed-at-being-fooled-into-thinking-she-was-in-imminent-danger...annoyance. Shut up. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Paloma grimaced and unconsciously shivered. "Ugh. I hate everything."

((What's wrong with meeeeeee))

"Me? What are you doing here?" Meka asked back.

It sounded like some girl was here. He could barely make her out from what light did appear from the flashlight. He quickly looked at his camera and pulled up the last picture he took. It was Paloma Salt. She was another artsy kid from school.

"Look, I'm just here to take pictures," he told her. "I'm not up to any creepy shit."

Wait.

Seriously?

You. Had. To. Be. Joking. Ugh!

"Are you kidding?" Paloma's tone was incredulous, baffled even. Of all the times in all the places in the history of the world, she'd gone on a photo shoot at night...in the same building as another person doing the exact same thing. Someone out there must fucking hate her. They must be laughing their ass off.

Paloma just stared for a couple moments. Her blank expression briefly shifted, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, and she turned around and started walking away.

"I'll get my shot tomorrow night, like, seven. Don't be here."

Hey, she might come back. Better to be prepared, just in case.

((Paloma Salt continued in Lo Mein Event))

Meka has to furrow his brow a bit at Paloma's response. True to her name, it was salty as hell, as if she's dumped the whole box of Morton's into the stew. As if it was Meka's fault they were both in the same place at the same time, and that she apparently owned the building and could say when he was allowed to be there.

"Man, fucking white privilege..." he muttered to himself.

Before he could find more to complain about the situation, he looked at his camera. He looked at the photo he took of Paloma. It was a bad one. Eyes were half-opened, her mouth looked weird, and her posing was awkward. He shrugged.

"Well, I can do something with this, at least," he said.

Meka continued to take pictures around the place. Paloma could have the building tomorrow. He would get his art tonight, and he was sure he could turn the bad photo of the salty girl into something great.

((Meka Gibson continued elsewhere))