Ten Years After The World Ended.

[Hunter]

Brandon Steel
Near Rhodesville
(atleast, I think)
Now, before you think some scientist from the future or something put that there, it was by yours truly. I don't have a map, and all the looters have taken them all. I'm trying to find one right now. I'm near a pawn shop. Maybe a map is in there. I gotta move fast though. There might be a crazy person around here. I've heard some footsteps besides mine.

Brandon closed his notebook and put his hand on his knee to get up. He groaned a little when he fully stood up. He stretched his arms out. He had just slept. He looked at the pawn shop window to see if he can scan for more stuff.
In the reflection, Brandon saw his black hair, the front spiked up a little. His green eyes were much darker than grass. He dusted off his blue t-shirt and plain jeans, and shifted his backpack. He began to tiptoe towards the pawn shop.
Once he got there, he snooped around to see if there was anything crucial he needed. He managed to find a dull flashlight, some matches, and a small picture.
The picture showed a long house made out of wood. Brandon studied this picture. After a few minutes, he realized he remembered the house. It was here, in Rhodeville.
"Oh shit," Brandon muttered to himself. "Can I get here without a map?"
He pulled out his journal and wrote.
Well, I didn't get to find a map, but I found this drawing of a house I remember. It's made out of solid wood. I think it's near the hills. After the apocalypse, my mind has been fuzzy. After all, last time I saw that house was when I was six. I'll write back when there's anything interesting going on.
And with that, Brandon pulled out a dull stapler and stapled the picture to his notebook and closed it.

 

[Penultimate Pi]

"Nothing?" Joe shrugged at the other person. "Then there's something I'd like from you," The biker lunged forward promptly, throwing the force of the brief sprint into a forceful kick. Knocking the young man from the motorbike, Joe used the follow-through of the kick to drape his leg on the other side. Replacing the kid on the seat of the chopper, the true biker called out "My bike now, loser!" With a rev of the engines, Joe twisted the new(er) motorcycle onto the road and blasted off, leaving the poor fool in a mist of red dust and nasty exhaust. The greater survivor now looted the spoils of the encounter to ride off into the distance.

Before long, the highway curved into a merging with another one, and Joe began to slow down from the roaring 90 kph he had presumed earlier. Now at a more reasonable cruising speed again, Joe was able to complain less about the minor aches upon him. As the surroundings changed from ruined hills to cracked wastelands, a sign eventually popped up on the right side of the freeway, its original message lost beneath the new scrawl of 'JACKSON 1 MILE'.

Checking the fuel gauge on this mew motorcycle, Joe resolved to keep a plenty stock on this new vehicle. Another rev on the cycle, and the biker streamed onwards to the new town, completely missing the other survivor on foot shortly beyond the sign.

 

[Jade]

Matt Phelan stood out on the balcony of the Standing Pine Saloon, as was often the case at that time of day, taking advantage of the pleasant, if cool, weather of the early morning. It was also, of course, a prefect way to keep tabs on the community he saw as his, sussing out assets and liabilities, marks of true loyalty, or the signs of a dishonest man. He was always good at reading people, and was keenly adept at using that skill and the knowledge gained from it to out maneuver almost anyone he had ever had the need to.

As he leaned against the old, yet finely crafted wooden railing of the once farmhouse's balcony, a remnant of the old world, he spotted a sizable cloud of dust fuming off the road south of town. Almost simultaneously, he noticed a faint buzzing coming off the ever increasing cloud. It was immediately clear that a biker, or perhaps even a small biker gang, was quickly coming for the eastern gate. He was certain that the guards could handle anything this big scary dust cloud could throw at them, but even so, he knew a possible shit storm when he saw it, even if it was a just small one. Keeping thing nipped in the bud is what allowed this town to prosper, and being the man to do it is what has kept Phelan in the position he was in.

Finishing the last of his morning coffee (black), he swung his left leg behind him, swirling himself into the doorway of his veranda and into his "office" Slapping the mug on his desk, he reached into the lower right side drawer, producing a third full fifth of locally produced whiskey, took a long skyward look with the bottle adjoined to his lips, then slammed it back down, corking and storing it back in the drawer in two quick, fluid motions. After Phelan had quickly cleaned up, swishing some water through his partly broken teeth and throwing on a tailor made black and white pinstripe, he took the trip downstairs and into his pride and joy: The Standing Pine.

Matt walked behind the bar, took a full bottle of the finer (yet not finest) whiskey his joint had to offer, stuck two fingers from his left hand into some shot glasses, pinching them together with his thumb. Slowly, he sauntered over to an empty table near the middle of the room yet within open view of the entryway. As he poured the first shot for himself, he peered out the doorway and into the now bustling market, knowing his awaited guest would soon walk through one of the two.

 

[moon]

Upon closer inspection, Emma could make out two dark green eyes sunk back in a gaunt face that belong to a girl with dark stringy hair. She couldn't be no older than fifteen or sixteen.

"Pu-pu-pu-lease d-d-don't hurt me. I n-n-need h-help." The girl's bottom lip trembles in fear.

Emma closed the door and rests her forehead against it. Her stomach sinks knowing this will be a fight for her life. Breathing in slowly as she closes her eyes, she tries to ignore the girl.

She is bait. If the girl was anything, it was bait.

Max cocks his head to the side, saunters over to the door, and sniffs. Emma thinks of opening the door and letting her wolf free on the girl, but she notices his tail wagging. That makes her assume he is incapable of eating the adorable little girl. His sloppy wolf face emerges and Emma arches an brow at him. Moaning, he retreats back a few steps before laying down.

"Miss, please. She's dying. My sister. Please help me." The girl shouts. Her voice is no longer stuttering. It's more desperate. "Please. Please if you kill me please just help her. Please." She begs as she bangs on the door.

Emma's body tenses up as she fights to ignore the desperate begging of the little girl. She has watched children left on the side of the road. She sat back and watched teenage girls be dragged into the woods. She was forced to watch and listen. It's how she has survived this long. Ignoring everyone at every cost.

Emma takes a deep breath, waiting. But the banging gets louder. The others will be here soon if they're not already. Emma's grip on the rifle tightens.

"Miss, please help before they find her and take her. Please. She's in the woods..."

 

[Xan]

Fate has a cruel way of circling around you, waiting until you're unaware before making its presence known. It does its work quickly, leaving man to choke on nothing but a litany of ifs and maybes.

On this particular day, fate comes dressed as a black van, mud caking its wheels, roaring through the clearing like a rabid creature chasing its prey.

The young men in the distance - temporary allies at the moment — have precious little time to decide on their course of action. Whatever they do (or, for that matter, whatever they don't do) will affect the young woman in the cabin and the teenager knocking on the door.

Will man's instinct for self-preservation overcome the innate desire to protect others?

We can only watch and wait.

 

[Xan]

Jumping down after a stranger was something he didn't do, but David —the goddamn idiot— had already gone off running before he could say anything. He knew the shots agitated the kid, and truth be told, they were making him nervous as well.

Landing in a crouch, he followed the younger man, looking back every now and then to make sure they were still alone. He couldn't place where the shots were coming from; he only knew they were coming from behind. Moving toward the cabin, he was grateful for the dense undergrowth that surrounded the area. It afforded them a blanket of safety while they made their way toward the small clearing. The leaves and branches scratched at his face, and he felt more than tempted to rush back to the tree — the safer option, in his opinion.

They were almost at the cabin, almost close enough for the kid outside to take notice, when he heard a rumble in the distance. He snapped his head to one side and caught a glimpse of a vehicle — a van — heading toward the same direction as they were. His muscles tensed, the weight of the sack on his back no longer in his thoughts. Dropping down the ground in a crawl, he glanced at David, motioning for him to do the same.

"Get down!" he hissed.

He could only hope David was quick enough to react. He had no intention of confronting whoever — whatever — was in the van. He wanted to be as far away from it as possible. Though he hadn't seen this particular vehicle, there was something about it that made him wary.

Then again, in this world, he trusted few things — and fewer people.

There were things he still needed to do, and dying (at least, today) was not an option. He crawled away like a snake slithering on its belly, only stopping and becoming still as a statue when he heard the van screech to a halt. He wished there was a way to make himself smaller. Feeling his heart beating like a drum in his chest, he wondered if David had taken his advice.

 

[Jade]

Rhodesville

Bruce walked straight to the serving table, with the rickety wooden placks under his dusty ranger shoes groaning while bearing his weight and made him self comfortable on an wooden tool opposite to the bartender.

"One glass of water, please..." he looked at the bald man.

The grisly man behind the bar looked over his left shoulder and back at Bruce, throwing a stern, distainful glare his way.
"Water... Yeah, well, since you asked nicely, i'll ask you nicely back... Where the fuck are your manners, asking for a service without showin' me why I would want to trade with yer ass in the first place? Not to mention you just walk in here, no fucking greeting or anything. Alright man, we'll start over; My name's Dan. Now you tell me your name," he said in a condescending tone "an' then show me whatever it is you think I might think's worth water."

 

[literati]

Bruce Dalton
Wild West Bar, Rhodesville

"Huh?" Tilting the face to his left, he stared at the person behind the bar. His piercing brown eyes scanned the other person from behind the green shades only for a few seconds before he sudden rise from the wooden stool that he had occupied earier. "Uhh... I'm so..sorry Mister."

Bruce Dalton, the man who was best in his business was suddenly acting too nervous, as if he was scared of the other guy who called himself Dan. "I am here to visit a close friend of mine, Charlie... Charles Monroe". Utilizing the pause from the unsuspecting cover of the shades he tried t analyze the reaction of the bartender and the group of youth chattering. Even though his back was towards the frail old man, Bruce was pretty sure that the man was wasted and not a threat. "And Hi, I'm Joe, the carpenter". With that said, he raised his right palm higher, waving at the bartender with an idiotic simplicity which was so unlikely of him. "How about a glass of water and something to eat in exchange for this?". Sliding his right hand inside the black overcoat that was patched in numerous places, he pulled out a magazine, a cheaply photocopied version of 21st century Playboy. The original editions of such books were available only in black markets these days, and were steeply prized collectors' item.

 

[Kitty Chanter]

The air was warm and dry. Much too warm, and much too dry. Unlike most children though, the little girl scrounging around in the dirt did not complain. Her fingers touched a burried ring, and she dug her dirtied and broken fingernails into the ground, pulling it up and bringing it close to her dull green eyes. It looked like... It looked like there still might be a jewel in it. The thin girl pulled her strawberry blonde hair to the side and spat on it, then wiped the dust and grime off it onto her bloodied and faded yellow dress. Upon closer inspection she realized yes, that their was a sparkling clear, possibly diamond gem in the middle of that ring, surrounded what appeared to be saphire stone settled in gold. She looked inside the ring, digging out the muddy grit to find a little enscription that said '14karat' and smiled wide. 'Perfect' She thought 'Perfect for trade.' Slipping it into her satchel of goods she took out a plastic waterbottle that was half full, and sipped it carefully. She knew all too well dehydration was one of the quickest ways to die out in this warm weather. Standing up, she looked around at the wasteland, covered in rubble with small patches of vegetation, in the distance a wall stood appearing to be of a city. If she could get past the gates, or crawl up the top of it, maybe she could find a pitying young couple bound for marriage to trade with. So she set off, doing her best to keep hidden in the broad daylight.

 

[Jade]

Dan

"Titty mag eh?" he said as he reached for the carelessly stapled stack of pages.
"let's see here 'Joe the Carpenter" raising his left hand to his chin, laying his index finger over his short mustache and slightly caressing his beard with the one in the middle,
"Water damaged, not laminated: it'll get you the water. I'll need more if you want food."

With that, Dan turned back around, grabbed a freshly "cleaned" glass (more like wiped out with an old damp rag) and proceeded to pour "Joe" some water out of an old milk jug.

"Here ya go bud, have at."

It was obvious to him that "Joe, the carpenter" was just an alias, made up on the spot, but he didn't mind; he understood the reasons behind peoples lack of trust and subsequent deception tactics. It was the end of the world after all, one couldn't be too careful.

 

[Penultimate Pi]

What the biker supposed to be the town of Jackson came into view shortly, a walled-off area that seemed to hold buildings within. Looked more promising than the last 'town' Joe was at, that's for sure. That miserable little quarrel of shanties was lucky enough to still be standing yet in this day and age. But that was not here; here was hopefully somewhere Joe could rest his head more comfortably. He would find out soon enough, as the highway transitioned to where the tarmac was upheaved entirely in favor of a dirt-beaten path. The jolt into the rattling terrain bounced the rider around, but not to where the experienced cyclist would lose any sort of control.

The path led onward to the beckoning hole in the Eastern wall, and Joe slowed to a cool cruise of 30 kph as he entered the city limits. 'City' was still a vague word for it, but it looked fairly big and probably a lot better off than most other places. That went for the people and establishments, too, which meant it might be a tad harder to get away with selling what would be cheap crap even by today's standards. Still, that wasn't going to stop Joe from enjoying himself as best as he could here.

Speaking of enjoyment, the first building he glanced at happened to be what passed for a bar. Don't mind if I do, Joe declared as he flipped the handlebars into a sharp turn. With an expert shift of weight and a throw of the bars in the opposite direction, the biker pulled off a neat power-slide into a standing halt some couple of meters aside the entrance. Clicking off the engine proper and jutting out a kickstand to keep the bike up, Joe got off of the ride and began a smooth, practiced saunter to the entrance.

"Well, then. I don't suppose you're waiting on me?" Joe reacted to the scene of a man at a seat in one of the idle tables with a pair of shots and a bottle of alcohol at the ready. "What're you wanting from me, then?"

 

[Kitty Chanter]

The small girl quietly and carefully walked, hiding among the brush and terrain when she heard any noise. Especially when she heard the roar of a vehicle coming past her and into the city, or town rather. She made sure to keep down in a ditch as the person drove by, debating wether or not to take out his tires with her pistol and rob him. The only reason she decided against it was because the entrance to the town was so close, and she felt too weak to bother with it. She needed a refill on water, and food for that matter. As she trudged on, it wasn't long until she had to hide again, a stranger following suit into the city, looking quite angry and distraught. Kitty was able to hide from this stranger easy, only because she had gotten to the tall city walls before him, and was able to hide behind the corner that was created from the hole in the wall of the city entrance. She pressed up her back against the wall, crouching down low and holding her breath as the other man breezed by. Then waited a few extra minutes, using her cracked mirror to peak around the corner without being visible to anyone else, when she decided that it was safe, she then entered the gates carefully. Doing her best to blend in with the crowd. But almost anyone could tell she was a scavenger, for it was on the grime on her body, the blood on her dress that was obviously too short and too small for her. It was in the complete and utter malnutrition that had stunted her growth to 4'6'', and the gauntness under her eyes. Although to a point everyone here was dirty, malnourished, dehydrated, or sick, scavengers that weren't looters had a certain air about them that seemed to make them lesser than the city folk. Or in kitty's opinion, that's how it was. Walking quietly with her head down she walked past a bar, noticing the bike outside. She backtracked as she noticed it, It wasn't often vehicles were found because gas was scarce, so it was a rarity. Kitty went up to the bike and circled it, peering inside at the people through a window, wondering which rich, fat man must have owned it. Maybe it was the person who started the settlement, she figured, running her fingertips over the bike, touching the seat and feeling the rough cloth against her hands. She checked the ignition, but Kitty knew even if the key had been there she didn't know how to ride. She stepped back It wasn't until then she realized that this was the bike that past her into the city. He must have stopped at the bar for a drink. Though she thought about slipping inside, but Kitty was only 16, mentally possibly younger. She felt uncomfortable going in a bar, even though the age didn't matter. Her sister who had died two years ago from dehydration had told her she wasn't allowed to go in them, only bad men, or rich men and women went in those places. But desperate for trade, food, and water, she was tempted to go in.

 

[xxDarkest_Assassinxx]

David heard the rumble of a engine and then heard Ben yell for him to drop. David quickly hit the ground keeping his hands on the rifle. He watched the van move in the distance then come to a halt. He trained his rifle on the van, scanning all the windows like a military sniper picking out his target. At this distance, he'd be able to drop anyone the came out before they were able to do anything to him or Ben. "I got the van, you watch our backs" he said to Ben only loud enough to hear. He didn't take his eyes off of the van but he kept his ears out for the Cabin they were near. They had distance and ranged weapons on their side so David and Ben could manage if the eliminated any hostiles before the git too close. "Alright, I don't trust you and you don't trust me but I doubt you either of us plan on dying so I've got your back and I'll hope you've got mine. We've got them beat as far as range is concered so we can hold them back long enough to move. What's the call from here?" He decided to focus on being the gunner and letting Ben take point this time. Mostly because he didn't know if Ben was a good shot or not, and he was very confident in his own shooting abilities.

 

[Jade]

"Well, then. I don't suppose you're waiting on me?"

Joe reacted to the scene of a man at a seat in one of the idle tables with a pair of shots and a bottle of alcohol at the ready. "What're you wanting from me, then?"

"Indeed I am My friend, I am indeed" Mr. Phelan said, exiting his seat with a slight exuberance as he reached out to clasp the mans weathered, callused right hand.
"It's not every day one see's a bike like that, much less see it on the road. Figured i ought to come down here and meet ya' outright. Now, drink?" motioning back to the table, "Partial to the brown stuff myself, but we got it all here: rum, vodka, potato AND wheat, fuckin' bourbon, even got three types a beer on tap. Or maybe you're a pothead?" This elicited an upturned eyebrow from Joe, "Not accusin' ya son, I just live to serve; just about anything you could want, we got here, an' we ain't averse t' sharin'." he pulled up his chair and set his elbows on the tabe,

"See, I like this town, I mean, what's not to like, right?! But what makes a good town... you know, I forgot to ask your name? Joe? Pleasure to meet ya Joe, name's Matt Phelan. So, as I was saying, do you know what makes a good community Joe? People, good, solid, sharp and loyal fucking people Joe, that is what a successful place like this is made of. I'm guessing you understand where I'm going with this, why I came down here to meet you; I know an asset when I see it Joe, and I hate to see them walk out the door once they've walked in."

The glass joining with his lips almost directly after the words left them, Matt slammed the shot back, poured anther, and looked up at the man across the table from him.

So, how'bout it Joe, ya' interested in working for me?

 

[Kitty Chanter]

Curiosity peaked in Kitty, and for a moment the fog of hunger and thirst disappeared with a perception of the world being so big and full of secrets that she just wanted to find out. At the same time though, adrenaline seeped into the little girls veins, because everyone knows what curiosity did to the Kat. Standing in front of the door, Kitty peeked in again, inside was many men. Men that didn't seem too pleasant really. But it was potential buyers no less. So, at first, she turned the knob of the door slowly, just slightly opening the door and peering in with curious green eyes. That's when it hit her, she got a wiff of a heavy scent that made her wince. Moving her head away from the door and almost closing it but not quite, Kitty took a deep steadying breath. Liquor had a strong scent, but her curiosity was much more than to be driven away by a simple unpleasant oder. She remembered the real reason she was there and rummaged through her little gray carrying satchel before quietly opening the bar door once again, this time a quarter of a way. She opened the door with extreme caution, as if it were a time bomb about to go off, making sure the hinges wouldn't squeak and slipped through the opening. Before shutting the door the same way, letting it slip from her fingers and click into place behind her. The air was kind of heavy with an unpleasant feeling, a tension, when she came in. It seemed everyone was rather focused, Kitty guessed it was business men of some sort, important people or something. Important people meant money. Surveying the room she profiled every man, looking them over and sliding her back against the wall while shuffling sideways until she hit a corner. All her movements were slow and deliberate, it wasn't often she was in town, but it was possibly the scariest place to be because of all the people. Kitty was a hider, and it was much easier to hide or play dead in no-mans land than it was in town with a bunch of people. "Stranger means danger." It was a quote from Kitty's sister that was always said to her, even at her youngest, six years old when this whole mess first started. Starting up to the bar, Kitty avoided the people, climbing up to sit on a stool and eavesdrop on the others, trying to pick her target to sell to.

 

[Penultimate Pi]

For the first moment in a while, Joe felt time speed up. It was hard for anyone to keep a consistent sense of time, given the lack of timekeepers now, but you just felt when time seemed to move faster or slower, like listening to your favorite song after a workout and finding it at a different tempo, ever so slightly. It was a weird phenomenon.

But that was neither her nor there, Joe reminded himself within the presence of this obviously ecstatic character, introducing himself and sharing the table with the man. He carefully lifted the shot glass filled with - Joe poked a side glance at the bottle - whiskey, looked like. Throwing caution to the wind wasn't at all an alien concept, so Joe just did it again and downed the glass as he did. T'was an almost broiling taste that lingered awhile; not a brand of alcohol Joe had gotten used to yet, especially in rarities like this.

The monologue was a long, rambling one of a man who seemed to know how to do business: quickly and with a lot of sugar-coating. A sharp and rapid tongue rattled out words like a Tommygun, eager to get some point across but not letting on what that point was. Kept a listener on the edge of his seat, so to speak, if at least to hear it out to the end. And so Joe did, trying to piece together the most important parts of the rapid speech together until that individual finally finished off his drink and his droll with a *whap* on the table, saying, "So, how 'bout it Joe, ya' interested in working for me?"

So it was a job offer, then? Or was it just trying to sound like that, and the man actually wanted free labor and an excuse to notch the population on his business and establishments one higher? Either way, Joe had to think carefully about the response.

"...Heh, my god... if I'd known you'd be welcomin' me here like this I'd 've gone a prepared a speech jus' like yours!" Joe barked out in cracked amusement, snatching the bottle to pour another shot of the whiskey. "You're jus' that ONE kinda guy... a person so, well, EXPRESSIVE, that he could go an' buy off the devil's soul for a buck and make 'im think it was a profit! And when you see a guy like THAT, you just gotta go an stick with 'im, ya know?" The biker raised the shot to his lips, then stopped and reverted the motion to continue, "Nah, 'course ya know! Bet you wouldn't be where y'are now without knowing that, or my name ain't Joe Malcolm. Ain't shaming you at all, no sir."

The shot finally met his lips again, and Joe drank it up this time. Setting it down and exhaling, the biker looked up again at the businessman, eagerly awaiting a proper answer. "Though... I just can't help but feeling you were lookin' for someone that maybe wasn't quite me. I'm not any fancy-schmancy showman or nothin' like that- I'm a club biker, tried and true," Joe hesitated to use the word 'gangmember' at all, though that pretty much was what he was, at least while he still had a gang left. "Hell's Angels..."

"Well, I ain't sayin' I'm dirt useless, but I don't think I'm that, uh, 'good, sharp asset' you was thinking was showing up, neither," Joe said cautiously, trying to word his apology of 'sorry but I'm not the man you're looking for' as best as he could.

 

[Novum Genus]

Sitting in the corner, opposite of the door, adjacent to the bar, James drank. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to fit in enough to stay invisible. Enough to avoid any notice or attention that could disturb James, for foreigners, people who were out of place, became targets. No one in the room interested James, for James was James, and James had no need for anybody's company from anyone in this room. He didn't care about anyone in the room, though he watched the entire room from the darkness of his cowl.

He didn't care about anyone in the room, until, that is, a girl slipped into the building. Slipped to the bar, slipped onto a stool, and started listening in on conversations around her.

Foolish, he thought, foolish girl. She will get herself killed, he continued, coming into a place like this without any type of self-confidence portrayed, without any visible weapon or skill. She'd be trailed when she leaves, that's for sure. Over the centuries, nothing has ever changed, always there being stalkers.

So James took it upon himself to ensure that there would be less conflict, for there would surely be some soon. He could already see people starting to eye her from the corner of their eyes. Places like this is not good for girls, young girls who have no idea what could happen.

So James, somewhat of a pacifist, stood up, quietly, unnoticed. He took the longbow that had sat in his lap, arrow nocked, and returned the arrow to its place, the longbow back around his back, and he quietly walked towards the girl. Empty seats on either side of her; distanced from everyone else, but close enough to eavesdrop. James silently gave his approval, a tiny nod at the girl's back.

And then he sat down next to her, again, just as quietly as he had stood up and approached. No bulging pockets, no backpack, for that was all hidden outside of the bar. No, he had already paid the barkeeper in advance, a charge, of sorts. He held up 2 fingers, and soon he had 2 cups of tea in front of him. Not the best tea, but tea. Pushing one towards the girl, he took a drink of his, set it down on the dirty counter, and quietly asked, not quite a whisper, "And what might bring a girl like you to a place like this?"

 

[Kitty Chanter]

Kitty smiled, listening into the conversation next to her with a man trying to recruit work, there was a twinkle in her eye. This is what she lived for. Secrets everyone had secrets, and this nosey girl lived for them. The man who seemed to own the bike had no interest in the other mans work, but that being said Kitty also knew people got backstabbed quick in these places, and surely a rough and tough man like that knew life wasn't fair and people would take, take, take, use you up and leave you. 'Hell's angels' She thought to herself, thinking the name was familiar, so much so that it bothered her. Puzzled she looked at the cracks in the countertops surface before realizing, and putting her fingers into her satchel. She took out a patch, about the size of her hand. It was her fathers, and it had been handed down to her. On it the words were bold in a half circle over a logo of a skull and a wing. It was just an arm patch, and it wasn't really anything Kitty had planned on selling, after all it was the only thing she had from her father. But she was really hungry...
Startled she heard a noise beside her and with wide eyes and a trembling hand, she covered the patch with her palm, pressing it against the table. She stared at the man quietly, hadn't really paid no mind to him. He didn't seem like anyone special, anything special. She had been so focused on that biker and the bike outside she hadn't kept watch of her surroundings. 'Bad' She thought 'I need to do better.' She looked down at the tea and back up at him, then back down at the tea, not willing to touch it, not believing it was real. No one gave anyone anything for free. Ever. That was life. "I'm just lookin' around." Kitty said, not willing to give too much information but not wishing to sound like she didn't know what she was doing or where she was going. Little girls were easy to target. Kitty knew that. But she also knew how to lie and cheat and kill and loot. After her sister died so did her morals, because staying alive was most important at that time. "What're you doing?" She asked, her voice was kiddish and slow. She hadn't gone through more that

 

[Hunter]

Brandon walked down the street for a very long time. Maybe he was at the other part of town now. As he looked down on the cracks on the concrete, he remembered how the roads were once filled with cars, zooming to get to their destination. Now, the only thing that catches his eye is a lone bird flying. He remembered that not only was there a small amount of humans on Earth, almost all animals are extinct now, too.

While walking, he saw a bar with two people in there. "Oh shit," he whispered to himself. He walked back a few steps, hid behind a tree, and pulled out his journal.

I'm seeing two people in a bar right now. One's reading this comic called "Playboy". I think I remember that from somewhere... Anyways, I think I'll knock to see if they're friendlies. If they're not, well... you'll probably see blood on this page. Gonna record their body language, to see if they're lying or not. I don't know why, but I can see if someone is lying. Well, I do lie a lot, so...

Brandon closed his notebook and gulped. He walked towards the door and knocked through the dull and slot broken glass window, trying to see their faces.

 

[Novum Genus]

He nodded slightly at the drink he had slid in front of her. "Drink up, you need it. Not the best-" he winced at the barkeeper's look, "-but will keep anyone on their feet. I think, that is. And it is free, you know. You could drink it up and walk out of here, and I wouldn't do a thing to stop or follow you. Someone else might, and it certainly wouldn't be fair odds, but you know, that's life." James took another drink, setting it down on the table again, and then continuing with, "Now, you tell me what someone like you is doing in a place like this, and I'll tell you why I'm here in return, or I can leave you with your free drink, should you so wish it." I take another drink, pausing for a moment. "I found some good salvage a ways away anyways, so make your choice, girl."