the only Reporter who'd made it out of a scorch. No one could believe it. The fire-fighting had re-directed all traffic further from safety zones in the territorial disputes over the California land.
Every car we'd mustered was promptly shot to shit. We'd managed to crawl through choking smoke only to wind up on a "pot farm", get shot at some more, and tricked into respite from jumping off a cliff into a ravine.
"BE THE ONE WHO GETS AWAY!" A Communications Officer ordered and then kicked any still standing. They scrambled, clenched, scraped, tumbled and rolled towards...something.
A world-renowned journalist expected Overseas hours before mocked the whiner. "Nobody told me it was this bad. Nobody told me to find out. Nobody told that fine, that means it REALLY IS a WAR on everything!!! Waaaaaaah. Git!!!!". Back towards abandoned mansions.
"No." A person stomped both feet and threw fists at the ground. "I'll shoot you."
"Shoot at me then. But if you don't miss MY HUSBAND WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND," made the slit your throat gesture. "Are you threatening me????" A shot went off and the person didn't move. "We DIDN'T GET CHANCE TO DO THE THING SIR," someone else hollered.
"What thing? What fucking thing?" The Officer yelled into the roar of smoke-filled air while looking down at the survivors in the ravine.
"We've been working multiple stories Sir and it's why we were coming in from the battlefield Sir. Because the criss-cross can be devastating." "ARE YOU GOING TO LECTURE ME ON MY PROFESSION????????"
"NO SIR NO. IT'S JUST THAT WE HAD THE FOOTAGE OF THE ASIAN ROBOTS BUTCHERING CONDO RESIDENTS, ELIMINATING EVIDENCE INCLUDING PEOPLE SIR, AND ACTING 'NORMAL' OUT FRONT OF THE condo, sir," lightheaded woozy took over the person.
Fainting caught by the resistor to leaving. And confirmation, they do it in hospitals and hotels the world over, long time now.
Ordered: STAY
Eventually, the batteries in the connective tissue radios died.
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