Jun 21, 2010 02:47
The last place Francis ever expected to be was Chicago, Illinois. This had little do with where the war was taking him, or what little free time he had left. Instead, this has everything to do with the fact that he was there when the orders to deploy nuclear warheads had been okayed. As far as he had known, Chicago was a nuclear wasteland, completely uninhabitable. Of course, Rift specialists still played in the area, trying to grab what Wanderers they could for their side of the war, but since the Rift had been almost completely closed...
"Well," he says, standing in front of the rubble of what was once the Conrad. "At least this is still the same."
He shoves his hands into his pockets, starting to step away. Part of him still believes this must be a torture tactic by the Satos. It's hard for him not to say that this is home. It feels so much like how everything was before he was pulled away. The memories have faded by now, but the scents and the sounds are the same.
Besides, cars that are illegal to even think about driving now are roaming the streets. He's obviously gone back in time. Maybe he really has reached home. He turns, reaching out for someone's shoulder, trying to stop them.
"What day is it?" he asks earnestly, not even realizing how ridiculous that question sounds until it comes out of his mouth.
kaden minoru fuchizaki,
francis barnam