Plague

[CloudyBlueDay]

A Walk In The Park
with @Applo

The scenery was less than peaceful. Desolate, battered, depressing. August had resolved at first to keep his eyes outside rather than thumbing through every tool or going over every list, but it seemed to induce just as much anxiety as all the things he'd been trying to avoid. That last goodbye from the Watchman camped outside cemented the pit in his stomach. The point of no return, kindly marked out by a solemn salute.

At some point the scenery blended together in such a way that August pulled out his notebook and began to try sketching it. Even in the lens of the smudged graphite, August's picture of the view outside seemed much more hopeful than the barren roads that lay before them. Even the leafless tree seemed to be plotted in a winter wonderland rather than a wasteland.

When the camper slowed to a halt, he wanted so desperately to be able to jump into the world he'd created. But fresh air wasn't going to come from the paper, and if the camper trudged forward without August getting a moment to stretch his legs, he'd probably explode with nerves by the next time they stopped. In just the few moments he'd spent debating, it seemed most of August's small list of familiar faces had already left the camper.

He dwindled uncomfortably at the door, pencil twiddled between fingers, debating whether or not he was going to go alone or rush to catch up with someone else.

"You should watch that pencil. Those things will take your arm off if ya ain't careful." Esme slid out of the seat she had been lurking in and approached the fretting nurse, one finger held aloft. It was the finger she had accidentally stabbed with a pencil the previous day.

The former savage had planned to stay in the camper. The world outside the window was nothing new to her. In fact, it was far too familiar. The camper on the other hand. Well even before the world had gone down the toilet, she had never seen anything like it. The childish urge to look for secret compartments was hard to resist. She had thought she would be alone in her endeavour. It was a surprise to see the black haired nurse fritzing by the doorway when pretty much everyone else had left. Something was obviously bothering him and Esme gently reached out to pluck the pencil from his grasp.

"What's eating you cutie?" A dumb smile spread across the red-head's face. "If it is infected, you have to tell me. It is like the rules or something."

August jumped slightly at the voice that appeared behind him. He'd thought most everyone was gone by now, but managed to recover fairly quickly, straightening his jacket and looking to the pencil in his hand quizzically. "Take… my arm off? I don't think that's… possible." He murmured, trying to think of some way the pencil could leave him an amputee. No. An over exaggeration, most likely.

So he laughed meekly and tucked it behind his ear. "Well, I'd hope not at least. Then I'd have to reevaluate my medical knowledge." August swallowed and looked back outside. "Definitely not infected. Not yet, at least. I was just debating whether or not I wanted to take a walk or stay inside, is all."

"You been out in the world much since everything went all bitey?" Propping herself on a ledge next to the nurse, Esme stared at the world beyond the windows. "Way I hear it, this place is pretty safe; but if you haven't seen much of what it is like out there then you probably should go have a look or something."

At her question August paused, a few flashes of the past grazing his vision. "Not all that much." He offered, tone considerably more quiet. Bitey was… one way to put it. "I suppose I should. Do you, uh, care to join me?"

"Yeah sure. If you're up for having a savage lead you into dark alleys where no one will hear you scream, I am." Somehow the grin plastered across the red-head's face conspired to spread even wider. "I was just gonna see if there's any good chocolate hidden away in here anyway. Probs better if I don't. I will literally die if I split my trousers and have to spend the trip flashing my ass to the whole badlands."

August stared at Esme and blinked. A lot of scenarios had been thrown at him in the last twenty seconds, none of which sounded particularly enjoyable. Another strained laugh fell out of him, very clearly not amused by the prospect of being ledlead into a dark alleyway to never be found again. And he absolutely did not understand the jump from that to chocolate and split pants. The apocalypse hadn't gone on that long - was savage culture really so different? More likely he was just socially deaf.

After his awkward chortle died, he stared at the ground in silence for a moment before exiting the camper and shoving his hands in his pockets, hoping she would just follow after and continue to blabber enough to keep any stragglers away while he breathed in some air.

When she finished trying unsuccessfully to cram her fist into her mouth as her brain caught up with exactly what it was her tongue had said, Esme pushed herself off her perch and down the campers steps. August hadn't gone far by the time she caught up with the nurse. With no need now to run, the red-heads hands were tucked into her arm-pits against the cold.

"So where you wanna go? Whatcha wanna see? I'd bet that any salvage worth having is gonna be gone but ya never know."

August kept his vision ahead for the first few moments, jaw uncomfortably tight. It was definitely chilly, and he spared a glance to Esme as she hunched over from the cold, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to her. He had a long sleeve underneath anyway, and didn't expect to be out long. "Don't need to see anything, really." August said with a hint of a sigh. "Was just trying to stretch my legs. Not sure if there's anything I… want to see. You know?" He would much prefer if this walk was uneventful as possible.

Their path bled away from the main road off to an empty side-street called Hunter's Road. Here, away from the former sounds of cars and machines and people cutting through the silence, here only the cacophonous whine of the wind lingered. That, and their lone dual voices resonating against the hollow, lifeless structures.

Naught had changed from the main road to the next. The derelict buildings remained. The dried husk of vehicles, though less in number, remained scattered across the roads, parked haphazardly in their owner's maddening pursuit to abandon them. August and Esme passed what looked to be a desecrated restaurant, and up ahead, a Speedway gas station hung in the forefront. A low glow emanated from the front window.

Hard forged instincts are powerful things. Esme knew something was off before her brain even registered the out of place glow from the petrol station. Artificial light meant power. Power meant people. And generally, out in the badlands, people meant trouble. It was an almost universal truth of the world these days. And here she was walking towards it like a dumbass, chatting with one of the few members of the team who had almost no business being off the camper.

A lone hand suddenly blocked the nurses path.

"Hey, like, could you wait here for two seconds. I wanna go check that light out." Even though her eyes were focused on the gas station window, the chipper tone of Esme's voice dipped not a jot. "I think Captain Summm- Um Peaches might kill me if I take you back with a a few pages missing,"

He hadn't noticed the dim glow of the gas station sign before Esme jutted her hand out in front of him, and August skidded to an abrupt halt in response. His gaze followed hers, and dark brows furrowed. Strange… surely it was a Reaper outpost, if it was running power? But wouldn't Peaches have notified them of it? Did that mean it was Savage territory? That… would not be the best news for their one hour pit stop.

"By yourself?" August muttered, not exactly thrilled by the idea of tagging along with her, but knowing well enough that going in alone wasn't smart. "And what's she gonna say about me when you're the one with pages missing?"

"Errm, I dunno. She might split a beer with you for doing her a favour." Tongue stuck out, Esme grinned at the August. The nurse appeared unmoved and after a few awkward seconds, Esme relented. "Ok, come with me, but like let me go first through doors and stuff. I could never remember what the leg bone connected to so if I have to stick you back together we are both screwed. Kay?"

August blinked. It wasn't that he was unmoved; he was just a little too shocked to translate his emotions to his face. The sheer confidence Esme mustered, to just, fucking… go in there?! Without backup? He thought that he was dissuading her! Who the hell would want him as backup? And who the hell couldn't remember what the leg bone connected to! The femur was obviously connected to the tibia by the patel- "W-wait --" August squeaked meekly, much too quiet to stop Esme in her mission.

With the order of things settled, the former savage began pushing towards the side of the gas station, ducking behind cars, rubble or any cover she could find and motioning for August to do the same. Hopefully, anyone in the gas station wouldn't be looking out the windows, but why take the chance. If there was anyone in the gas station, them being surprised to see two reapers come through the doors was exactly how things needed to be.

It was as Esme ducked behind a car that provided the last decent bit of cover that she grabbed a chunk of broken paving slab. It wasn't exactly an elegant weapon, but it would do. Then it was just a matter of offering up a prayer to any god still willing to listen to her, flashing August a thumbs up and, finally, bursting from her hiding place and sprinting for the gas station door.

Frozen in place, August could think of at least a million ways this was going to go wrong. He had just wanted a walk. A normal, simple walk. If there was something awry, his plan was to completely turn around and head right back to the camper. Esme was picking up a slab of broken pavement and just going in!

"...Shit." August whispered, jumping from foot to foot in an effort to shake away nerves and grabbing a much more measly piece of pavement than Esme's, before ducking in after her.

 

[Kuno]

WHAT LIES BENEATH PT. I

Mission Report: 10/20/21 | 12:00 | Lexington

Life's propensity to thrive even in the wake of annihilation continued to establish mankind's indomitable will to survive. Lexington was dead by many counts; to survive in a place so stripped of resources would, at face value, appear impossible to those who only a few years prior had not known the scrape of starvation, desperation, and disease chafing at their bones.

And yet even in barren deserts life miraculously found a way, crawling and shifting beneath the ever-ending sands. Across the way, in the dried out husk of an apartment complex, what little remained of the town watched with beady eyes the movements of the Reaper Corps. Blinds parted, feet shuffled, and mouths moved.

A hushed voice first, dry as parched skin.

"It's them. Dunno the rest."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I've seen that ugly mug before. "

"Damn. So many this time. Nice big boxcar, too. Wonder what's in it-"

"Shhh!" The former hissed.

Across the way, from between white blinds, binoculars pressed against the dirty glass. The one they'd identified as the leader seemed to stare momentarily in their direction, and the lurkers stilled until her deceivingly lazy gaze passed on. More people came from the camper much to their consternation, and they watched intently as the first woman said something to them all. Then she and another red-haired man turned away and-

"Guns! They have guns," a third voice chimed in excitedly. "We can take th-"

"Shut up."

The first pair went away. The others who stood about at the car lingered moments longer until eventually, in mismatched pairs, the group dispersed, each going their separate ways. The remnant stayed behind at the vehicle. So two plus three plus two...and the two from before. Nine total. Tongues ran over chapped lips.

The chattering continued in a frenzied pitch.

"They're splitting up-"

"Stupid."

"So stupid."

"Let's go. Before they do." Another voice joined them. "And tell the others. Bring their nice big boxcar too."

"Ok!"

In the shadows they left, the scuffling and shuffling of feet ebbing away like so many sounds in that small, listless town. The binoculars remained, held in place as of yet by unknown hands. And through it the two women left at the camper were watched. Carefully. Intently.

Patiently.

Within the metal vehicle, something else came to life, a voice bleeding through the interior from the Box. Garbled and broken, yet quick with urgency.

"...Command to...report, over...Co-...Unit Six to report...emergent! Sergeant...copy, over. Repeat-"

---

This was once America.

Some years prior and this Ikea had only served as a department store neither unimportant nor essential, hanging somewhere in the balance of frivolous human needs. Now it was left as a cold reminder of what might have been.

The electricity was gone, and the sunlight filtering through the comparatively small glass store window only helped to illuminate the very front of the building. The store's sheer size was only magnified by the immense darkness blanketing the far reaches of the building.

Like a museum, its contents were carefully preserved. Lexington was already virtually empty by the end of the country's collapse, and those who remained had little desire to trawl a furniture store when they were starving. Drawers and chest loomed like blackened specters in the foreground, and undisturbed couches and bedroom sets remained in their fixed, carefully placed positions. Semblances of homes lay on display in every corner. Presented first to the Reaper trio were living room sets.

It was a jarring contrast from outside. Cleanliness and order were not the markings of their era, and perhaps that was why the marks on the ground were so easily distinguished. They started at the door and led away from them.

Muddy, numerous, and widespread. A group of footsteps trailing far into the darkness.

They were not alone.

---

Emergency lights, while unimpressive to look at, held acid batteries that were said to last anywhere from ten to fifteen years. The engineering came from a simpler time. Emergencies had once meant losing power for perhaps a few months to a year due to natural disasters, and men of old had had the intuition and foresight to prepare for the oncoming storms.

It was the station's last beacon. A fluorescent glow emanated from the back corner of the gas station above the bathroom, washing the aisles and counters in a dull hue of white. In the wan light, the gas station's new tenants skittered to and fro across the grounds: mice, innumerable in number and emboldened by the lack of predators. Their focus lay within a family size bag of Funions spilled haphazardly across the dirty linoleum floor.

Much like the rest of the abandoned city, the interior of the gas station lay in a frozen state of chaos. The shelves had been largely stripped of supplies, though a few intact snacks were scattered here and there, apparently forgotten in the mad frenzy for food. The bulletproof glass that divided the store counter from the rest of the store was covered in stains, thumbprints, and a few posters. Here and there a crack was found, some a spider web of lines crawling away from a single round impact point.

The entrance of the Reapers scared away the mice in a tinny frenzy of squeaks. The subsequent silence was constrained, heavy with secrets the hallowed building could not share. It was enough to make one's skin crawl, and should wandering eyes look further, they would find some of the marks on the cashier's window to be bloodied. Some marks were redder in hue than the others.

One last abnormality remained. At the rear of the store, just beneath the glow of the emergency light, sat the door leading to the employee's area. Someone had affixed a makeshift contraption to the knob to try and stop it from turning, but it looked crude and poorly made. Whoever had made it had wanted to make sure no one could get in. Either the room had served as a supply room of sorts for scavengers or perhaps a paltry home to escape the brutal winter.

Either way. They wouldn't know until they found out.

GM NOTE:

Ah, the sweet sensation of being watched.

Your negligent GM has returned at last from her unwarranted sabbatical. As thanks for your patience, I've set up some fun surprises for everyone! I encourage everyone to continue exploring. I'll definitely be available for collabs and such for environment details. If you're curious as to what Peaches and Otto are up to, more details will be forthcoming at a later time. No spoilers.

From this point until the next chapter, GM replies will be shorter in order to help propel character interaction. No more fancy coded posts for a while, ya feel me?

 

[Doctor Jax]

Ashton Lovejoy​

A year and some change with the Reapers had really honed certain senses. Back when the world was normal, he remembered a med student talk about something he called 'gestalt'. It was the ability to tell that something was wrong, even when everything else was right. You could just look at a person, and get a feeling that goes beyond reason that they were going to go downhill, and since being a nurse he'd experienced it himself, preparing for those times he could somehow tell a patient was either about to wild out or crash, in the OR or in the field.

And now, being a field operative as a medic, that same sense prevailed beyond just his job function. It was a means of survival, and he knew he couldn't be the only one feeling a certain sense of foreboding as they walked in to see the place pristine, save for the half-muddied footprints.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears. The inside of the place was dark. There was the chance that eyes were on them at this moment. He hesitated at the door, his eyes taking in the occluding darkness, seeming to hear his own breath at full volume in his ears.

"I think people have been here..."

Eyebrows canted upwards in a worried expression. Eyes roved. There was a sense of lightning in his veins, the urge to flee strong as starvation, thirst.

Don't let it get to you. Breathe, Ash. Breathe. Breathe slower.

"Maybe we ought to go back, tell Peaches. Might not want to stay here long," Ash suggested, opting it would be better to play it safe. While they were three people - two with guns - the tracks suggested far more traffic. There was another part of him - the unbroken, clear-headed idealist - that reminded him their first duty was bringing back civilians into the fold of civilization.

But you couldn't help anyone if you were dead. First rule of first aid - make sure the scene is safe...

And this didn't feel very safe.


//metioned: @Kuno || interaction: @Red Thunder @rissa

 

[Applo]

---

"Huh."

Putting an arm out to half catch the nurse charging in after her, Esmé stared at the mouse dropping littered carnage that had presented itself to her. With the scattering of the rodent residents, an uncanny stillness hung over the gas station interior bathed in soft green light. It was kind of reminiscent of a scene in the kinda horror films she had watched back before the collapse. It would have been unnerving back then. Now, well, she had seen plenty of things more disturbing. A room being devoid of humans, if you could call a lot of people human these days; that was just about a blessing.

"I didn't realize those things could go for so long."

Doubling back to the doorway the pair had just burst through, green eyes scanned the street. Again stillness met Esmé's gaze. Nothing was creeping up behind them after having lured them into the gas station like moths to a flame. It seemed that the emergency light was just that. A ghost of the old world that hadn't quite faded into oblivion yet. The rough chunk of concrete slipped from the red-heads fingers and crashed to the floor as she spun on her heels to face her comrade once more.

"Sorry if I scared you. Guess I was wrong. Looks like it is just you and me and the mice."

Sweeping the rodent's snack across the floor with her insole, the containment woman started to mooch around the room examining the scarce few supplies that somehow remained. Just because she was with the Reapers didn't mean she wasn't going to stuff her pockets and face with food; rule one of surviving was that you never knew where your next meal was coming from so grab anything you could whenever you could.

The first snack bar she picked up was the kind filled with desiccated coconut and elicited only a frown from Esme before it flew through the air towards the nurse. Mentally the red-head amended her first rule of survival; grab nearly anything you could. It would take more than the end of the world for her to willingly eat something she considered the work of the devil. The rest of the gas station's forgotten treasures were fortuitously more palatable and were hastily stuffed into deep pockets of the reaper's trouser.

Eventually, once she was certain that anything of value had been claimed, Esmé drifted to a stop in front of the door that sat under the glowing emergency light. Half halfheartedly she tried to turn the crudley 'locked' handle.

"You wanna try and bust this sucker open or do ya want to head back?"​

---

 

[Raven]

JADE
Interactions/Mentions: @Kuno @Dakota K5

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Jade hears the emergency call shortly after trying to determine who she would go with. Immediately she runs to the leave hoping to catch Peaches. "Hey, Boss....." Face palming at her realization Peaches already isn't close by now neither it seems is Otto. 'hmm well umm' She thinks running back and pressing the button for the radio hoping not to get in trouble later for answering.

"Hello, hello? This is Jade speaking I can forward the message over coms to Peaches" she answers trying to hide her nervousness.

Static crackled and popped over the receiver as a harsh, female voice broke through.

"--connection faulty, Jade..."

Shrk. SHHRRK

"Jade- JADE. Confirm status-"

Jade listened intently noticing the signal wasn't the best in their location leaving the radio alone. Giving a look she placed a hand on the knob for the channel and another to start adjusting the antenna.

"Alright let's see if this sounds clearer." She whispered to herself.

"Can you hear me on the other end?" Jade asked trying to repeat a few till a clear answer began to come in. "I'm adjusting the signal for our team's area."

Jade waited till things seemed like both ends might be clear.

"Jade, the tech Monkey. Status report... We've stopped for a rest and to analyze the current surroundings." Jade began eyes looking at the map to try and give the base a pinpoint draft of their possible current location seeing they are roughly in Lexington from her quick glance.

Jade thought a moment after responding repeating what she was told. She glanced for the coms picking her com up and pressing down a button. "Peaches, come in." She commented into the device. After waiting a moment she pressed the button down again. "Home base sent in new orders" She commented trying to explain what the call was about. Then she simply waited for a response from someone.

 

[Kuno]

WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE

---

@Kuno | @Dakota K5​

A road well-traveled bore the familiar markings of utilization. Remnants of havoc and destruction remained, and yet signs of order had been imprinted wherever there was a need. No obstacle course awaited Peaches and Otto as they turned onto the next side-street: the cars had been pushed - either by manpower or by the brute force of campers - off onto the sidewalks and off the road. Debris remained clustered off of the asphalt onto the sides.

Was it clean? No. But it was orderly, and really, what more did a budding society need?

Contained dirt was just fine by their squad leader. With a good-humored whoop, she spun and tossed her apple core off into the contained garbage. She snorted when it missed her target by a wide margin.

In what was becoming a familiar pattern with her, Peaches did not appear to be giving her subordinate her undivided attention. As the man spoke, her eyes continued to pan somewhat lazily about them, never quite looking at Otto save through her peripheral vision. She sauntered rather than walked, and the lackadaisical woman looked infuriatingly unattentive as the redhead raised his rebuttal.

"Easy," Peaches replied airily, "Now don't go jinxing us. That'll be just what we need: both of us getting popped and the others with a thumb up their ass. Jesus."

What came next was intended to be a laugh but sounded more like a husky chuffing noise, and she playfully slapped Otto's shoulder with all the gentle force of a hammer.

"We'll be fine. Just wanna make sure the road's clear, then we'll skidaddle. We got comms on just in case."

"If the two of us get popped by some trigger jerking bitch out here then we had no right being out here or in the reaper corp in the first place methinks." Otto's words came out with a half sarcastic bent to them.

His own attention was caught by a familiar feeling in the back of his head. "Kinda feels like we're being watched no?" The words were said casually as the grip on his rifle tightened a little. This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling as his time in the regular army had given him enough of it to instill a very real familiarity deep in his bones.

"Not much to do about it now I suppose." Otto's words flowed.

"So how many commands does this make for you Peaches?" Otto asked the commander of the mission as he kept his eyes looking for whatever was giving him that feeling from before.

"Ohhhh let's see now," Peaches hummed.

Only an idiot would not have paid heed to Otto's casual warning. She felt it too: the slight prickle on the back of one's neck, the hairs raising in defense towards an unseen threat. The shells of houses and condos lay abandoned on both sides of them. So many empty windows to peer through. So many openings to shoot through. Dark eyes flitted with unusual focus over the cracked, dusty surfaces, squinting a bit.

"Maybe six or seven. I ain't been keeping track. I probably should." There was that short, hoarse chuckle again, though a small smile accompanied it. It didn't reach her eyes. "Told myself I'd retire after the fifth but uh...kinda got bored on my last leave. Ya know?"

Maybe he didn't know. The restless spirit that haunted a soldier when on leave as a civilian. No matter what she did, it never felt...right. She'd spent too much time holding a gun and barking orders; without that, a sense of self purpose had escaped her.

It could be a slippery slope. And she knew it.

"What about you?"

"Hell Peaches, I'm what? Thirty now, joined up at eighteen and bouncing around base after base before that with Ma and Pa. I don't think it ever stopped for me, before all this, before the virus, I got leave one time before the cluster fuck of all clusters kicked off and honestly I was bored to though it was nice to be able to not worry about getting shot at it felt odd to be swtiched off if you get my meaning." Otto's words drifted out, his eyes still scanning across the windows and doorways.

"What about back in Springfield, got anyone waiting for you back there? Thought I saw you saying goodbye to some people back there." The question was a simple one as he turned a bit and took a look back the way they came.

Otto didn't know much about this team other than Peaches own reputation and since he had a gut feeling this mission was gonna go on longer than the standard operation he might as well get to know his team lead now and the others later.

Sallowed bricks littered the pavement ahead of them. Left-overs from a major accident: to their right, a Ford pickup truck had plowed through the side of a local pharmacy and strewn bricks all about them. The gaping hole rendered from the action was dusty and dark. Little could be picked out from its murky depths to the naked eye.

Or rather, the untrained eye.

The brisk crunch of foot against gravel slowed, then stopped. Otto's squad leader smoothed a hand over the black fabric of her uniform and turned her head, finally looking at the redhead fully.

Her face was devoid of its earlier cheer.

"Just my mom and some friends. But I wouldn't say they're waiting on me."

Her tone was bland and matter-of-fact. No bitterness was implied in her words, merely a vague neutrality...and impatience. For even then, grey eyes flitted away from Otto and about their surroundings, darting back more than once to the man-made opening in the building on their right. The sensation of being watched was intensifying.

And yet still, still, she did not reach for her firearm.

"Hey there, do me a favor." Her footsteps thumped against the ground as she began walking again, though her pace was brisk. She glanced aside at Otto. "Kinda branch off and hang back from me a bit. Let's pick up the pace too, 'kay?"

Peaches scratched at her neck nonchalantly, though her expression was anything but.

"Think we've got some rats on our tail."

The questions were forgotten for now as Otto's eyes hardened, keeping pace with Peaches' own.

"Roger."

His own voice was bland now, the mood had shifted as he broke away a bit, slowly but surely making a bit of distance between the two of them. It was a feint to make it seem like they were splitting though it was anything but.

His feet kept pace but didn't gain on Peaches as he continued, a subtle flick of his thumb put his M4 from safe so semi auto. He made sure to stay away from any walls and within range of cover should it be needed, his eyes also scanned peaches as well, her area of expertise meant this whole situation could get very hairy very fast if it came to combat at close range though he didn't really have to worry if the ones following them took cover, Peaches' cannon would probably make that venture fruitless.

"Bitches love cannons." Otto thought to himself with a small smirk before going back to serious mode.

The two soldiers went on in their new state of preparedness. Peaches looked altogether a different woman; her vision refocused, she appeared sharp and alert, her head low as her eyes danced from window to window, building to building. In the absence of conversation, the silence had only heightened in its strange unnaturalness. Every sound drew the fleeting look...and eventually, the gradual reach of her fingers to her service pistol. They rested atop the cold metal with a mad tap, the only external sign of her inner restlessness.

In a matter of moments, I-55 beckoned from beyond.

A sign denoting its approach remained posted some yards away. Lines of luminescent chalk had been drawn along the pavement to mark the linear path of campers heading inbound towards Chicago. Here the march of man-made architecture ceased and gave way to nature: starting shortly after a small gas station, trees and white-frosted grass overtook the borders as stores melded into the local forest preserve. Cutting through the thick foliage to the right was the path - outlined in bright green chalk - to the ramp leading down to the interstate highway.

But something brighter sat in front. Something so wrong and out-of-place and sudden that Peaches stopped immediately.

It was difficult to properly articulate. Too many sights, too many sounds, too many thought at once. As her eyes snapped onto the new yellow school bus haphazardly parked across the entire width of the expressway ramp, so, too, did they land upon the scattered tire spikes strewn all about the road in front of it. The woman swore under her breath.

"Watch your six," She ordered hoarsely to her subordinate.

But it was too late.

At Otto's back, naught but four feet away, a shuffling, tall form had detached from the shadows of the forest floor. Deadened leaves and branches encompassed the being's entire body in a thick layer. The person's face and hands were covered in a fine film of dirt; brilliant, animal-like green eyes glared from the muck, a cold malice broiling in the center. In their hand was their only human prop: a long, thick machete. Rusted brown splatters dotted the blade's handle.

"A toll," the thing barked harshly. The voice was deep and garbled. "Pay up. Now."

Otto sighed as he turned and took in who was behind him, he had to admit that the improvised ghillie suit was nice though the machete was a tad cliche and while Otto was sure it had been used on something once living the question as to if that had been a two legged or four legged animal was up in the air. Otto took a few steps backwards in slow measured movements, just a little distance in case this fucker wanted to dance Otto wasn't going to suffer no fool who fancied himself a bush wookie with a big blade.

"Gotta say, nice camouflage you got there. Also we can't pay a toll if we don't know what it is." His words were calm and neutral, he'd kill this man in a heartbeat but he'd prefer to save the ammo if he had any choice.

The leaf monster smacked his lips together in annoyance.

"Toll's anything of value, stupid. So whatcha got for me, hm?"

Blade lowering a bit, his bright eyes roved over the redhead, scrutinizing his build in an uncomfortably intent manner before ping-ponging over to his blonde companion. She was given the same visual assault, and the man clicked his tongue once he was done.

"Yeah, nice guns you got," He went, blade returning to its former offensive position.The fact that the man was effectively outclassed - both in weaponry and numbers - did not appear to bear on the man whatsoever. With the elitism granted a predator toying with its prey, he added arrogantly, "Guessin' you stole 'em. Guessin' you can share 'em, too."

His eyes cut to Peaches.

"Whatsa matter, lady? What, too scared to look at me?"

"Relax, Swamp Thing."

Peaches had yet to move from facing the bus. Instead she stood rigidly, her head turning ever so slightly to squint at the toll collector from her peripheral vision.

"Don't worry about where I'm looking, 'kay? Just making sure our party is still private."

"Whatever you say," the man snapped, and he shook his machete a bit for emphasis. "Doesn't matter. Gimme one of those guns and you look all you want. Hell, might even let you through my road."

This was frankly getting them nowhere fast and Otto was not a patient man when it came to supposed tough guys with weapons, he dealt with that shit enough back in his army days with locals in every back water he was sent to.

"We only offer peace or violence." Otto held out an empty hand. "Peace." While in the other hand was one of his m67 fragmentation grenades. "Or violence. For you or anyone else here right now."

Otto held the frag grenade aloft for those watching to see, and he knew there were probably more then one set of eyes watching right now, he looked right at the swamp thing, right in the eye.

"Your pig sticker doesn't really do much for either her or I, we've seen and done worse then whatever you've accomplished playing highway bandit out here. We'll hang you from your own entrails and sleep like babies tonight or maybe just put a bullet in your guts and let you die of sepsis while all the blood, shit and bile you got rolling around in there poisons you slow like?"

A light, rebuking cough came from behind him. There was a pause in Otto's words as he looked on before continuing.

"Look, I can tell you're a smart guy, you gotta be to survive out in the bullshit we deal with on a day to day basis but seriously, look at her and I. You know the two of us didn't steal these weapons nor the uniforms so you gotta assume we know how to use it all. Hell I ain't even saying she and I would survive the fight but if you got more people watching us like I think you do you know that we'll get a few of y'all and wound some more, how much medicine do you have to spare for the dying or injured? Not to mention the diminished manpower if you have more people here that get injured or killed for next time." Otto gave a shrug before he popped a smirk. "Or we send word back about a group of friendly locals that could be seen as friends and allies the next time our people role through, maybe share a few supplies if there is some excess."

Otto popped the grenade back on his chest rig and held his rifle again before giving another shrug.

"It doesn't matter to me which you choose, just informs me how quick we get this over with."

He had become statuesque, this strange wildling friend of theirs, his body as wooden and still as the trees around them. His eyes bore skewered angry holes into Otto's own, and for many, many seconds, he remained silent.

Then he looked at the bus.

Gravel crunched underfoot in the tense moment of silence that followed. Peaches took a few slow steps backwards until her left shoulder bumped lightly against Otto's back, and carefully, very carefully, she reached behind and gave his right elbow a firm tug - a signal. Her eyes darted between the two men and the road ahead.

"Let's take it easy," Peaches murmured.

Buried under her voice was the soft chink of her pistol safety.

"Tell you what - "

"I ain't gonna repeat myself." The brash words poured out of the forest man in a rush of air, and his animated gaze flickered between Otto and Peaches rapidly. "You want through? Hand over a gun. Better yet -"

He grinned. His teeth were shockingly white against his dirty skin.

"Guessin' you got something better for me. But the only way out through that road is us. So better barter with something else quick."

Us, he said. Peaches' eyes stayed glued to the bus.

And pairs of eyes stared back.

 

[Red Thunder]

Making Friends and Influencing People
a collab between @rissa @Doctor Jax @Red Thunder & @Kuno ​

The IKEA was dark, properly dark, despite the dirty illumination filtering through the dusty air. It cast everything in deep shadow, leaving far too many places to hide. The store was in its heyday already an excellent hideaway, with us twisting corridors, variety of furnitures, secret pass doors, and open ceiling concept. With the progression of time, who was to say what might have taken up residence in the unnatural habitation?

Jed stopped just within the door. His eyes roved the gray wall within, trying in vain to pierce it. About him, specks of shining dust danced about in the ambience, listless.

"Hol' up a second," he muttered, gesturing to the others to not enter further. "Yer eyes're used to outside; lettum adjust."

Ringo nodded, a few steps away from the old man. Her eyes itched from the sudden transition into darkness, but her eyes adjusted quickly. As they always had— and it didn't take long to notice the swathe of muddy footprints. She squatted, taking in the prints. Reaching forward, Ringo used her left hand to touch a few of them, and was almost surprised to find them dry.

She glanced up at Ash as he made his comment and Ringo almost cocked her head to the side as she considered it. She might have agreed if the tracks weren't dry. But still, something nagged at her in the back of her mind. It took her a minute to realize what she was feeling, what the phantom-hives crawling up her back and around her elbows signaled: This place is fucking creepy.

She reattached her standard issue rifle and instead grabbed her bolt action. It was a bit smaller, easier to handle, and it just felt right in her hands. In truth, it just made her feel braver.

Ringo shrugged as she answered Ash, "Track's are dry though, can't know how long it's been… and there's really nothin' to tell. Not yet anyways. But maybe we ought to just stay in the front room here, see what we can find before heading back to the 'box and securing the area."

Ash chewed his lip. For all his height, his body language spoke to a deep discomfort as he searched the dark. Slowly it was beginning to come into focus, the silhouettes of living suites painted on the dark. It became more apparent the shadows he saw were purely in his mind, but that didn't make them feel any less real.

"Maybe we shouldn't use lights. If there is someone here, I'd rather they can't find us," Ash said softly. He didn't have any weapons beyond pepper spray, a tiny canister on a keychain. He was careful to keep the two with firearms in front of him, both for safety as well as to avoid any friendly fire.

"'Suh good call," Jed replied, nodding. It would besides save them on batteries, and Lord knew such things were almost more valuable than water in those days. Besides, it seemed like their eyes were adjusting to the filtered daylight.

He wrinkled his nose at the footprints, however. Fortunate that Ringo had spotted them; dry though they were, whomever had left them might come back. Or worse: still be inside. Setting his bat beside the door jam, Jed squatted down at the entrance.

"Yah take it easy," he said, pulling strong twine and other tools of his chosen trade. "Don't wanna spook any still 'ere. Gon trap the door, case any come behind'st. Jes'... take a rollin' leap, f'ya gotta leave quick."

And he went to work.

The murky darkness beckoned from beyond.

The eerie still persisted; as the two drew away from the light streaming into the storefront, shadowy alcoves and forms began to take shape. Blobs of black became couches, tables, and bedframes. What looked to be a slender man pressed against the show wall came to be a lamp instead.

And still the footsteps marched on. Where the main aisle joined with a four way intersection, the dirty tracks proliferated. A single set stretched ahead into the deepening darkness while to their right the amount of footprints had been stomped and swirled into an indistinguishable muddied mess. At some point, more than one person had passed en masse down that way, and pinpointing just where that trail ended was made easy with some unexpected aid. Someone had gone and hung a makeshift wire frame lantern from a floor lamp. Though shallow in lighting, it helped to illuminate the former employee's room that lay nestled at the west end of the store. Here the mass of human traffic seemed to stop. A blackened scrawl was written across the dirty, scuffed door:

CHIEF'S ROOM!! STAY OUT!

A sound came. Had the store not been so repressively silent, and the noise might have gone unnoticed. But it did not; it came suddenly, unmistakably clear through the slight crack of the door.

A muffled sneeze...followed quickly by a low curse. Then silence.

Ash's head whipped towards the door, already tracking the sound. He worked his hands together, eyes zeroing in on the area where the sneeze had originated and echoed out. His breath stuttered as his heartbeat filled his ears.

"Someone's definitely here. Maybe we should announce our presence. Keep from spooking them," Ash said in hushed tones to the other two. "Infected typically cower or fight, and no one's come out to fight."

At the entrance, Jed clipped the last wire and stowed the tool. It wasn't anything fancy; a simple leg ensnarement, designed to tie the ankles together with a spring loaded bola. But the sound of it triggering would give them the warning they'd need, should anyone come following.

But the others had gone investigating. Following the mud tracks. Metal club at the low ready, he did the same, minding his step; scrappy though he was, Jed wasn't looking to get into a knock-down with anyone.

Ringo flipped the safety off her rifle and nodded towards Ash, "Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves then," she said grimly, softly, "Though there's always the chance that that sneeze came from raiders who'd like to see us dead. There ain't much in here to loot, so let's ask the old man before we do, see if he thinks we ought to find the folks or get back to the camper and report to Peaches."

 

[Kuno]

Locked Doors Should Stay Locked
a collab @CloudyBlueDay | @Applo | @loser kuno

As August crept in behind Esme, he swore his heart was beating so loudly that she and whoever else was lurking in this gas station could hear. This… was a terrible idea. Why hadn't they called for backup? Told anyone else where they were going? If anything went wrong, if anything jumped out at them which it probably would… they were done for! He had a piece of broken pavement in his hands! What the hell was he supposed to do with that?!

Smash! Esme's piece of pavement hit the ground and with it, August jumped a near three feet in the air, accompanied by a short, girlish squeak. Trying not to let any more squeals escape him, August stood paralyzed for a good few moments as he tried to collect himself. Just rats. Just Esme and a bunch of rats and - thwack.

An almond joy to the forehead.

Breathing in through his nose and shutting his eyes, August bent down to pick up the piece of candy and fiddled with the wrapper in his hands, having absolutely zero intention of opening it. He watched her flit around and fill her pockets, and August meekly tried to do the same, but everything in here reeked bad news to him, so he was much more hesitant to touch it. When she finally spoke again, August slowly moved to stand beside her, already looking as if his lifespan had decreased by five years.

"Sure, Esme. Let's break down the rusty, cruddy door in an abandoned gas station that someone jerry-rigged shut. Nothing bad will be behind it. Nothi-"

The words had barely left the nurses lips by the time the sole of the Containment Woman's boot smashed against the old door. The sound reverberated around the room assaulting the reaper's ears for a moment before dying away into the deathly quiet of the abandoned city. In its absence, Esme inspected the crude lock. The jerry rigged mechanism had held up to the impact, but only just. It probably wouldn't survive another one. She backed up a few paces and twisted her head towards August.

"You didn't actually say no, ya know."

If it was a statement of fact or an apology it was hard to tell. From the redhead's posture it was clear that regardless it didn't really now matter which it was. The chance for objection had been missed and the door was going to be opened.

Teeth ground together, this time having managed to still himself a little more from flinching at her abrupt kick, mostly because he'd entirely expected it, August let out another exhale through his nose. "No. No I did not say no. You've got me there." He said exasperatedly.

The second time that the sole of Esme's boot collided with the makeshift lock buckled under her momentum and shattered. The door rocketed open, taking Esme's foot with it and the redhead stumbled through the now open archway hands outstretched as she tried to keep her balance.

Rank, stifled air shifted around her palms. It smelled like a lid had opened on a heat-smothered coffin. As the eye-watering stench hit Esme and August full-on, more mice scattered about their feet and away from their "nest": mounds and mounds of built-up trash piled up in the tiny employee locker room. It sat atop the dirty mini fridge, the cheap bench in the middle, and a square table mounted against the left wall. Most of it was old and molded. Useless. Unworthy even of a second glance. The only thing that seemed salvageable was a crumpled knapsack that lay in one of the open lockers. It was noticeably clean.

 

[Kuno]

SQUAD FOUR

Mission Report: 10/20/21 | 0700 | Naperville, IL

For a Four Seasons hotel, it was a far cry from glory. Savages, animals, insurgents - all had rendered the luxury establishment into nothing more than a glorified pigsty. Gone were decadent halls and shining, fairy-tale chandeliers. The glass had been the first to go; then the lights, then the rugs. The furniture. The decorations. Small wonder that anything remained in the presidential suite. Just a few chairs, a painting, and a blanket.

Only one chair was occupied. Rope bound the man's ankles and arms tight against his body, cutting into his bruised skin. The Reaper insignia at his collar was stippled with blood, and the man's chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

Time worked in strange ways. He couldn't tell how long he'd been there. It felt like only a few days ago his squad had been deployed to Nashville, and even yesterday maybe that the savages had shown up and ambushed them.

But that was impossible. Because -

"Sergeant Thomas, is it? Shall I just call you Thomas?"

His left eye was swollen shut. Thomas peered ahead with his right, trying his best to monitor the pacing figure of his captor.

Most savages had an inking or two. A piercing, a talisman, or some kind of psychotic body modification to signify their ties to primordial ways and the occult. The three savages in the room had a combination of all of those, and their leader...A full face skull tattoo. A nightmarish face with strikingly blue and intelligent eyes, ones that regarded the broken body before it with a cold arrogance.

The eyes of his squad's murderer. Thomas wanted to gauge them out.

"Lexington and Concord. Can you tell me what that means?"

"What?"

Everything hurt. When they had first brought him there they'd beaten him until he'd passed out. He wasn't sure if his jaw was broken, but his face had been punched enough that his nose lay crooked, and more than one tooth had spilled from his mouth. Thomas ran a bloodied tongue over his remaining teeth, glaring up at the smug skull leering down at him.

"Lexington and Concord," The savage repeated patiently. "Do you know what that is?"

"Hell if I know," Thomas muttered, wincing.

The correct answer, apparently. His captor laughed roughly. "And you call yourselves patriots. Defenders of this land. Yet you don't know its history...Thomas. I'll call you Tom."

The feeling was dissipating in his left leg. Thomas grunted as the savage jerked his chin forward, crushing his cheeks together in his hand.

"Shall I tell you?"

"Phhhutff- uh- youuu -"

"If you insist."

The leader threw Thomas' head back forcefully. As the soldier coughed, the former rubbed his hand off on his pants, smiling.

"It's a battle. It started the Revolutionary War; you…do know what that is, don't you? Ah - there it is. I see the indignation in your eyes. Of course you do. Very good. Yes, we won that initial battle and in so doing made our own stand. That we - you and I, Tommy - we as Americans were not to be messed with. Isn't that something? Our tiny, seemingly powerless nation standing up to the Great British Empire? And...Is something the matter?"

He couldn't stop shaking. Spasms rippled across Thomas' body, and sweat budded across his temple. The sergeant squinted weakly at the savage.

"I forget. You've lost a lot of blood, haven't you?" Thomas grit his teeth as the man's hands patted his cheek in a mockingly loving way. "How about we take a break and I continue this 'talk' another time? Would you like that?"

Black spots danced before Thomas' eyes. "Go to hell."

"Interesting choice of words. Because that's exactly where we're headed."

His smile stretched wide, and the soldier started, gaping at him. Every tooth in the man's mouth had been painted black. He blinked fast as the savage drew even closer, the blackened maw widening still.

"Ever heard of Fifth City?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Ashton Lovejoy​

To be frank, this was not the kind of thing he should have been on. He recalled dimly as the two of them sat in the dark, with others of unknown name, background, disease condition, some words from another medic he'd served with what felt like lifetimes ago, about his role, about his priorities.

"Listen to me-- you are one of two assets on this trip that cannot be replaced. We are the only two who can do what we do. We are the only hope the rest of the team's got if they're injured, the only ones with the knowledge to save those infected. We go and get killed, the whole op's worthless, Ash. So you do everyone a favor and look out for 1#, you understand?"

For once it made sense to send a paranoiac as a medic. In a situation like this, his priorities were immediately apparent.

"Ringo, follow me back to Jed. We oughta wait for him first, then decide what to do. Don't want to take unnecessary risks. This was just supposed to be a pitstop," Ash muttered at a low hush, motioning over his shoulder. "We don't have back-up out here, so things go south, we're gonna end up liabilities."

He hoped desperately that was the right call, to play it safe.

@rissa @Red Thunder

 

[Applo]

---

Momentum, however expected, is hard to stop. Esmé found herself almost tap dancing across the uneven floor of the small, mould choked room as she fought to keep her balance. She didn't come to a stop till on her outstretched hands hit something solid. Something... slimy and yet somehow sticky too.

Taking stock of her new surroundings, the red-head had to fight back the urge to throw up. This became harder every second, especially as the signals from her nose that had been ignored in her efforts to not fall ass over tit, made themselves heard now. The end of the civilised world had made unpleasant sights a common enough feature in Esmé's life that her stomach didn't turn easily. This temple to mouse shit and decay though was very nearly more than a match for her. She certainly didn't dare look at what her hand had landed in. That sight would likely push her beyond the limits of self control.

"I think I wish you had said no now."

Smiling weakly at August, the containment women held out a palm towards the nurse before they got any ideas of coming in to help her. There was no point in them both possibly ending up puking their guts out.

"Looks like all the good shit was ou-"

Green eyes landed on the backpack in one of the lockers it was noticeably free of mould, slime or mouse droppings. Two years worth of experience of living in the badlands took over for Esmé. Someone had left this bag behind and 'locked' the door. Someone thought they had something worth protecting. That meant the bag was worth her having a look inside at the very least. She swiped it.

Emerging back into the gas station proper the red-head reached for the first slightly absorbent looking thing to clean her soiled hand with. Once the feeling of her palm no longer made Esmé retch, she turned the knapsack upside down before looking up at August.

"Let's see what we won."

With a flourish, the red-head released the strap that held the bag shut and gave it a little shake sending the contents plummeting to the floor. It was a strange mix. The first thing that caught Esmé's gaze was a ziplock bag filled with pill bottles that rattled as they landed. There was also an old road atlas, matche, a canteen, a decent looking hoodie and heavily used sketchbook. Finally, there was a small, soft, plush unicorn. Its beady eyes stared at Esmé. She reached down and picked it up.

"Wonder who this belongs to."

The savage's hand gingerly petted the unicorn, her fingers caressing it's soft, fluffy body.

"Think they are still around?"​

---

@CloudyBlueDay @Kuno

 

[Kuno]

P E A C H E S

---

@Kuno | Mention: @Dakota K5​

Stupidity abounded in the apocalypse's aftermath. As if the country wasn't chock full of idiots before everything crashed and burned, surviving a world-ending crisis had only made the basketcases proliferate. That was the real challenge for a Reaper - was a man suffering from mild Armis, or were they just stupid?

Peaches was guessing maybe a combination of both for her and Otto's friend there. The situation required tact; she didn't want to hurt him - well, policy dictated she should at least try not to hurt him - but she was no people wrangler. That was for Jed to do. Bridging the gap between the crazies and the sane…

Yeah. Not her job.

Wasn't Otto's, either. But looking at the eyes staring from the bus window, the squad leader would wager there was far more at play than whatever was rotting away the tree man's remaining intellect. The size of the group didn't bother her a fig. She'd been outnumbered before; being outgunned was the greater issue, but it didn't look like she'd have any issues with that here. No, what bothered her, what set her brow to creasing at that strangely neutral angle of discontent was how old the five individuals watching them from the bus windows were.

Damned were her eyes if she didn't see naught but a handful of kids gawping at her. Worse; the oldest couldn't have been more than six. Maybe eight if she wanted to be generous. Being dirty and malnourished tended to skew how old children looked. The squad leader's hand drifted down to her side, the gun in her hand hanging loosely as her muscles went limp. A frustrated noise escaped her.

Goddamn kids.

Blowing up a bus full of kids wasn't the type of first impression Peaches wanted to make as a commanding officer. It certainly wasn't a decision that would have ever crossed her mind five years ago. Then again, watching the country she swore to love and protect get reamed by pseudo-zombies didn't do wonders for her already battered morals. It was the first primal thought to roll through her mind; quickly, however, whatever humanity was left in the war veteran shoved the barbaric plan away, and instead she turned fully to face Otto and Swamp Thing, her expression stern.

Just then, a bell tone sounded in her ear. A page was coming over the commlinks. As Jade's voice petered out a short message, Peaches frowned. New orders from home base. It never meant anything good. She would have to call back as soon as they got rid of their...friend there.

Time for a new plan. They were going about this the wrong way. Guns were clearly needed for something, but for what? To protect the kids? If they wanted any chance at helping these people, they'd have to break the sentry's guard first. Peaches gestured loosely behind her and watched the man's animal-like eyes stick to her like glue.

"Those your rugrats?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"They're cute." No they weren't. "You wanting a gun to protect them, right? That's reasonable. I can tell you're a good father...and we want to help you."

Very pointedly, Peaches jabbed Otto in the arm.

"Tell you what - Mister Otto here's gonna take you back to our truck and get you outfitted with a weapon of your own. Like you said, we got plenty of guns. But first, you gotta get a microchip, 'kay?"

"...Micro...chip?"

It was like a fog had lifted. The man blinked slowly, his features loosening from the pronounced scowl that had held them. Peaches nodded very solemnly.

"Mm, yeah. It's the only way to use our guns. High tech military grade stuff, Q14. It's just a quick shot in the arm...like a vaccine."

Acting on the draw wasn't her strong suit. But the man was enough off his rocker to hopefully accept her sudden switch of play. Her first officer had better have caught her drift; there'd be no guns waiting for this fruit loop. At her side, her hand tightened on Otto's arm in a silent bid for him to keep quiet and play along with her lie.

"How about it? Hm?"

Watching the tree man mull over the decision was like watching a feral dog cautiously follow the coaxing of a human with meat. His eyes darted everywhere; from Peaches to Otto to the treeline to bus, searching frantically for answers his dimwitted brain could apparently not provide. Finally, with a tight expression, he nodded. His machete lowered at last.

"I'll be watching you," Swamp Thing snapped tersely. "So will the kids. Closely. If anything happens to me, they'll know what to do."

"Hokay, boss." Peaches gave the man a mock salute, smiling. What a bunch of skin and bones kids could do to her escaped her at the moment, but reassuring the man was all she could do. "Otto'll take good care of ya. In the meantime, I'll see if maybe those kids want a snack or something."

She grinned.

"'Kay?"

 

[Dakota K5]

Otto White

Interaction: Swamp Thing, Peaches @Kuno
---
"Slick Peaches, reeeal slick."
Otto thought to himself as Peaches spoke to the moss covered man. He didn't look down to the hand squeezing his arm lest swamp man possibly catch on, he let his hands up to show he was no threat, tapping Peaches' arm, so she knew he got the message.

"Fine by me, saves the ammo anyway." Otto kept the slight combative words in his speech but allowed his tone to drop a bit, so the swamp thing didn't catch on. "What do you want my enterprising friend, you'll be spoiled for choice after you get that microchip, maybe something like mine? Or maybe one like boss lady has over there." Otto thumbed towards Peaches and her cannon of a rifle. "Maybe something small like a pistol or simple like a shotgun? We got it all friend." Otto played the salesman while Peaches did what she was going to do.

In the back of Otto's mind his thought drifted to the new team leader he found himself under. Had to admit, the brief period he'd operated with her was turning out well, though he had to wonder if she was going to bitch at him later for his showiness earlier, common enough back in his old days when dealing with people who respected only a strong hand rather than flowery words or negotiation but he'd cross that bridge when it arrived if it arrived at all.​

 

[Red Thunder]

Jedidiah Schmidt
the Family Man​

Doubting leadership was the last thing any of the team needed, most particularly from their Catcher. The Catcher should be emotionally stable, confident, and most importantly, not encouraging mutiny. Yet, for all the experience Peaches claimed to have, maybe Jed couldn't be blamed for feeling that splitting the team was not the most tactically sound decision.

But here he'd gone and done the same.

Hurrying was stupid, at best. The entrance was trapped, so no one was liable to enter without alerting the whole area. Rushing forward to rendezvous with the boys was liable to get Jed into trouble: either he'd run headlong into whatever nonsense they'd gotten themselves into, killing any chance of rescue, or he'd attract trouble himself along the way. Didn't help that the floor was messier than a hog sty. No, "slow is smooth, and smooth is fast." So he'd take his time.

It didn't take him long to find what he sought.

"Ash!" Jed breathed the name through clenched teeth, trying to find that perfect balance between caution and urgency. He lowered his bat from where it'd been raised in response to their sudden appearance. "Whatcha find? Aught worth the trouble're what?"
@Doctor Jax @rissa

 

[Kuno]

WHAT LIES BENEATH PT. II

Mission Report: 10/20/21 | 12:25 | Lexington

The whispering, the murmuring, the shuffling steps - however quiet and discreet the Reapers had tried to be, their existence in that abandoned store was still abundantly clear to the presence behind the door.

As Jed's voice joined the others, shifting of paper and fabric could be heard. Then the small tap of a foot on the ground. Then another. Then another. Uneven, slow steps approached the door cautiously.

"June? Karl?" A light cough sounded. "J-June? Is that you?"

In the stillness, the door opened a crack. Through the sliver of space, light filtered out, and reflected in it was a woman. She was of middling age. Illness had rendered her face appearance frail and haggard, and as she sagged against the partially opened door, hollowed eyes searched the darkness, trying to identify the faces before her.

There was a sharp change. Her eyes discerned at last the strange, alien faces, and the military fatigues, and the realization was swift. These were not her kin.

She opened her mouth to scream.

@Red Thunder @Doctor Jax @rissa

---------------

Rats thrived in the wastelands. It wasn't hard to find them running, lurking, and sniffing about the shambles of America. They came all shapes and sizes: White. Black. Mouse-sized. Cat-sized.

Kid sized.

Two street rats waited outside the glass gas station storefront. They made no efforts to hide themselves. Dirty and disheveled, both appeared around their early teens, and the larger of the two - presumably a boy - ran up to the glass, beating suddenly upon it like banging on a fish bowl.

"HEEEEY! Come out and PLAAAY."

Behind him, the other teen giggled, and the boy turned to her, grinning toothily.

"June, c'mon! Look at 'em!"

Hesitantly, the girl ran up to the glass, and both stared through at the two Reapers inside. The boy banged on the glass again, and giggles erupted from the girl.

"HEY-O. Come out now!" His smile was devilish, and as he continued to bang on the glass, he pulled loose from his side a long metal pipe.

"Come on out, come on out, come on out!"

@Applo @CloudyBlueDay

------------------------

It came through to every device. Whether the comm was lodged in their ears or kept stashed in their breast pocket, every Reaper received the call. Peaches' voice patched through in its characteristically unperturbed state.

"All points, report current status. Survivors have been sighted on the west end of town. One adult, several - maybe four, five children. Possible -"

The message cut off abruptly, and after a few beats of silence, it was apparent that it wouldn't be continued.

Still. The message demanded a reply.

@Raven

 

[Kuno]

BACK TO THE CAMPER

@Dakota K5 | @Kuno

Cracks petered throughout the mud caked on the forest man's face. He grew more and more human upon closer inspection: an aquiline nose took form, reddened at the tip by the nip of air. His eyes had softened some, though they were no less primal, focusing intently on Otto's every move like a hawk. Blonde hairs speckled with gray made up his brows; an older man, perhaps. They creased with suspicion as the soldier made his sales pitch.

"Whaddya mean? How many guns you got?" The pitch rose with the last word. He followed Otto, albeit hesitantly, letting the other man take a slight lead.

"Several, gotta keep them in case ours break or become inoperable. Never know what might happen out here." Otto's words were quick and light, just keep the man on the hook. Otto had to figure Peaches' plan was to get the man separated and back to the bus for vaccination.

"Like I said, keep an idea of what you want, I'd suggest a shotgun, so you could hunt or defend yourself in equal measure, but that's just what I'd do." Otto spoke again this time with a simple shrug as he led swamp man back towards the Bus's direction.

There was no reply, save a hacking cough and spit from the Reaper's right. He moved slow, this leafy companion of his. Like a tree had grown sentient and uprooted, marking his path alongside Otto in dragging, shuffling steps. Every few feet or so he would hazard a look behind him.

"You and your lady from up north?" The man finally asked, tilting his head to look at Otto. "The city?"

He paused, his eyes growing distant.

"They got lots of guns up there too. Lots of em. Nobody wanted to share."

"You remember what that city was called?" Otto inquired, they had come West not from the north and if there was a settlement somewhere to their North it might have been passed through by their sister group they were looking for.

"Also don't let her hear you call her my lady." Otto added with some air quotes. "She might take that as a means to use me as target practice." Otto said with a bit of a snort, and while Otto wouldn't say no to Peaches in that way, she was rather attractive, he doubted this was the time or place for that kind of thing.

"But either way, we're willing to share, just gotta get that microchip first otherwise our guns won't work. Just a little shot in the arm, or hand, or where ever and off to the races we go." Otto kept a nonchalant attitude with swamp man, to keep him at ease as they made their way back to the camper where hopefully they could get the vaccine in this man quick and easy and be done with this whole event.

"Dunno the name. Had a big lake on the side. Lotsa tall buildings, too. That's where we got the bus -- hey."

Abruptly, the lumbering tree stopped.

They had reached the part of the road where the forest merged into cracked, concrete pavement and hollowed buildings. The empty shells of dusty, rusted vehicles drew the eye.

Otto's companion had taken root once more. It was hard to tell under the layers of dirt and leaves caked over him, but his face appeared...tight. Twisted up.

Angry.

The patience of a sane man was long but finite. But the patience of an insane man was short and unpredictable - and in some cases, practically nonexistent.

"Where's the guns? How much farther we going?" His words sloshed together like mud, and he jabbed an accusing finger at Otto. "Better not be jerking me off, ya hear? I give one holler, and you're done for."

"We told you, the guns are back where we came from, a big bus. My friend and I had to come farther a head on foot to make sure there wasn't anything dangerous in the road we wouldn't have otherwise seen." Otto turned towards the swamp man, no outward aggression shown but a subtle movement of his fingers undid the latch to his holster holding his pistol, just in case.

"Plus we've been walking for what? Five or ten minutes at a pretty slow pace right? My friend and I took around fifteen before we ran into you, and we were moving pretty fast. You want to turn back without a gun and my friend and I leave? The offer for a gun was, so you know you could trust us, and we ain't here with any bad intent. You want to turn back or do you want to keep on going?" Otto asked with a kind smile on his face will his hands sat at his hips, he made sure to face the man as he took several steps backwards as if he was prepared to keep walking and definitely not to create space between the two.

Otto also made sure to tuck the little bit of info he was able to gain about the other settlement in the back of his mind for later use after this situation was resolved, though it was starting to look like violence was going to be needed. Otto's priority was the security and safety of the team first, everything else, including getting this man cured, was second.

The man smacked his lips together noisily.

Answering Otto audibly was apparently too much work for him. But at length, he uprooted, and the decision was made clear: the man moved forward towards the camper, albeit at a slower pace than before.

A steady noise petered out from his lips. He was muttering things under his breath. Complaints, apparently, or for the more active imaginations, perhaps some ancient forest witchcraft to invoke against Otto. One could never tell with the plague-ridden, and to get close enough to the man to decipher the gibberish pouring from his lips was an invitation for a fight. And so those became the accompanying sounds to Otto and the leafy stranger's march: the crunch of their heels upon debris and the inane ramblings of the insane.

The camper was impossible to miss. It's steel-plated, metallic silver frame shone in the daylight, looming high above the deserted cars and dilapidated buildings gathered on the sides of it. As they approached, Otto's companion made a remark of some kind. A compliment.

Unfortunately it was lost to the whistle of an incoming comm message in Otto's ear. Peaches' voice patched through shortly, languid yet succinct.

"All points, report current status. Survivors have been sighted on the west end of town. One adult, several - maybe four, five children. Possible -"

The message cut off abruptly, and after a few beats of silence, it was apparent that it wouldn't be continued.

"Home sweet home." Otto spoke with a slight sarcasm before turning more to the swamp man.

"Now, I have to get you that shot with the chip in it alright? Otherwise, the guns won't work right? If you see anyone else dressed like me, and I'm inside, just tell them you're with me right?" Otto lifted his finger up to his ear as if to itch his ear, but he buzzed his coms twice in confirmation to Peaches.

"With Adult survivor at the bus, over." Otto spoke into the coms lightly.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Ashton Lovejoy

Jeb ended up coming to him much quicker than he could get back to Jeb. The other man was fast, and deathly silent to boot, and he about jumped from his skin as the other man hissed his name to ask what was about. He put a hand to his chest and let out a smooth sigh, before gathering his thoughts together from the scattered mess Jeb had made of them with his abrupt appearance.

"There's someone here. Heard them sneeze. I think we should--"

Ash looked up, eyes having been on their surroundings, and in that moment he heard the questioning voice. Immediately his eyes widened, looking at the source through the door. A woman's voice, tremulous, shaking. Questioning their identities, seeking familiarity, seeking safety. He met her eyes, and in them he saw a picture of himself, reflected back through time and memory, of a fearful countenance as the dreaded unfamiliar made itself known. He flinched.

And she opened her mouth to scream--

"Ma'am, please, we're here to help you!" Ash interjected, and he put his hands up for her to see they were empty despite his compatriots and their obvious weaponry. His heart thudded in his ears. Every nerve shrieked that they should flee, that they should run away before the others in the building - always Others, nameless and faceless and pitiless Others -- could come to kill them, brutalize them, violate them. But the vision of himself in her face was likewise planted firmly in the part of his brain that made him a man and not an animal.

"We're not here to hurt you! I'm a nurse, I have medicine, food!"

He regretted the words immediately. They were meant to assuage, but they were likewise a target. Food, medicine, needs, and he is their key.

@rissa @Red Thunder@Kuno

 

[Applo]

---

Writing a note to the backpacks owner was stupid Esmé knew. Chances where whoever had left it behind was dead one or far far away by now. The problem was that even before the world went to shit, cuddly toys had always made her a little stupid. Somehow this strange achilles heel had survived everything Armis had thrown at her. She just couldn't bear the thought of leaving the unicorn behind; all alone in the cold and the damp for the mold to claim. Nor could she bear the thought of its owner coming back and finding it gone, lost forever to them. So she was writing a note. It told the would-be reader who she was and that they could find her in Springfield. Esmé also used the letter to promise that she would take good care of their plush friend.

It was so fucking stupid. The world had fucking ended. Who was stupid enough to give a crap about a silly toy. No one. No one except her. Esmé was on the verge of screwing up the hastily scrawled letter when a buzzing in her ears made her wince.

"All points, report current status. Survivors have been sighted on the west end of town. One adult, several - maybe four, five children. Possible -"

Green eyes landed on the nurse and Esmé raised an eyebrow at the news they had both just received. Survivors. Were they friendly? Hostile? Infected? Sane? The abrupt end of the message meant there was no way of knowing. Peaches voice had been calm and level, but Esmé had started to form a sneaking suspicion that you would need a nail gun and a blowtorch to get the sergeant to so much as sound anything more than mildly irritated. Regardless the two of them being so far from the camper by themselves probably wasn't a good idea anymore.

Slowly a finger raised itself to the mic button on Esmé's comms unit.

"Erm, hey boss. This is Sco… Esmé. Me and Nurse… erm, August are at an abandoned gas station a few blocks from the bus. Everything is quiet here. We'll head back now. Over."

After waiting a few moments for a response, Esmé turned to her partner in crime.

"Lets just shove all this crap back in the bag. We can sort it at the campe-"

The sudden thundering of fists on glass caused the red-head's feet to actually leave the floor through sheer shock. Heart thundering in her ears, Esmé turned to the source of the noise. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. It was just some dirt covered kids. They were probably just curious about anyone in Reaper fatigues.A tentative smile flashed towards the Reapers new audience.

"HEEEEY! Come out and PLAAAY."

The moment of relief died like a candle hurled into a hurricane. The looks on the kid's faces. The way one of them was banging on the glass. The fact that this pair of filth covered street rats wanted them to come out and play; all of it sent a chill down Esmé's spine. Even if she hadn't spent two years in the badlands, that phrase sounded like it had come straight out of a bad horror film, probably from right before the moment where one of the characters ended up dying horribly.

"Hey Doc. You remember the way back to the camper right."

Esmé's eyes, fixed on the pair at the gas station window as she spoke to August, grew noticeably wider as the bolder of the pair pulled a pipe from gods knew where.

"Grab all this stuff and then when ya ready, I'll distract them and you are gonna run past and sprint for home ok. I'll be right behind you."

Before the nurse had a chance to argue, the red-head spun on her heels so that her back was two the window occupied by the two kids and walked as calmly as she could back towards the remains door to the mold filled treasure room. The floor was covered with shards of metal and wood from where she had broken the crude lock and Esmé used one of these splinters to carefully and, with all the airs of someone with no worries in the world, pin her silly little letter to the door. Task done, the former savage turned to look at her companion once more.

"Ready?"

Sleeves were rolled up to reveal arms covered in crude tattoos.

"Remember Doc, just run. Don't look back. I've dealt with worse before. I'll be fine. Probably. if I'm not, you can get Peaches to come rescue me right."

The only thing weaker than Esmé's laugh at her own little joke was the smile she was forcing across her face to keep her colleague calm. It felt like there were no good options open to her or August. You knew things were fucked when the least bad option was being prepared to beat up some random teenager.

Leaving August to make any final preparations, Esmé saunted to the door she and the nurse had entered the gas station through and leaned casually against the frame so she was just far enough through the egress to see the two kids.

"Hey there June."

The red-head forced another smile. She had caught the girls name through the glass when the one with the pipe had called out.

"What's ya friend called? What games do you wanna play sweetie."​

---

 

[Red Thunder]

Jedidiah Schmidt
the Family Man​

In the face of danger, Ash had attempted negotiation, like a rabbit cornered. Jedidiah preferred the snake. A muffled clink as the metal baseball bat hit scattered papers on the floor cut through the tense whispers; Jed had abandoned it entirely in favor of a more personal approach. He propelled himself across the floor on coiled legs, slamming into the door with a dropped shoulder, and landed bodily on the woman within. His arms lashed out, striking against her limbs to pin them against the ground, and perhaps a bit more of his weight fell on her belly than he precisely meant to.

Not very chivalrous, he opined; his dead wife would like to have shot him a death glare. But maybe it'd keep her quiet, till they could explain themselves. And offer help. And find out the danger, if any.

"You two!" Jed muttered, not taking his eyes off the interior of the room. Maybe they should have retreated. Jumping into a pond without seeing how deep the water was wasn't his smartest move. "Check 'er for wounds 'n such. 'N sickness."

Jumping in wasn't smart, but better foolish action than frozen indecision.

@Kuno @Doctor Jax @rissa