The Calamity

[Zen]

The Las Vegas Strip, the center of debauchery, gluttony, and lust. Who in the Nine Hells would have thought that an operation such as The Fallen Army would make this city their headquarters? Karen certainly didn't think so, but in the aftermath of the looting, pillaging, and shooting that shook the Strip, her new employer carved a niche and settled in. Of course, the Army wasn't without their own sins; the leader wasn't exactly a saint.

Excalibur was quickly chosen as the headquarters, since the Leader found the towers to be perfect sniper spots. Any signs related to the original gambling haunt was ripped down, replaced with a giant red cloth that had the army's name written in white. Tanks, armored vehicles, and mounted machine guns littered the parking lot. Armed soldiers briskly walked between the vehicles, carrying crates of supplies. At first glance it seemed that all was normal, but The Calamity touched more than a handful of these people. Some had tails. Others had claws instead of fingernails; a red head actually had a mane of fire, another left trails of slime as he walked. In the past such a sight would have sent anyone running in panic. This was new the norm.

Karen Connors was a scout for the army, assigned to the tower with her .50 caliber sniper. The thing was a work of art. Sleek. Black. Accurate, with a hell of a kickback. Unfortunately she had yet to kill anyone with it. From her spot, her eyes zeroed in on a line of cars and trucks pulling up to HQ. It had been a week since the Leader's advertisement had aired, and torrents of people kept arriving. It reminded her of the holy pilgrimages some of the religious folk took; the thought made her sneer.

She lifted her walkie talkie, and pressed a button. "Got more coming at you, Bastien. I hope everyone's ready to meet the recruits."

Static, and then a crisp voice answered. "I believe we are set up. Come on down and join us."

Bastien developed an odd quirk when The Calamity hit. He could no longer speak with an American accent, but exceeded in others. British was his current favorite and he took to greeting the new applicants wearing a Tuxedo, complimented with pristine white gloves and a black bow tie.

In the entrance hall he and his helpers divided the recruits into different rooms. Each room represented different needs the Army required: medicine, food, architecture, clothing, technology, etc. Except on the other side of the headquarters -- one had to be escorted via the shuttle bus -- people with entirely different skills were placed into one room. These lacked the homely touch that the other applicants were growing accustomed to. Deemed the Military Wing, this area placed those who would be risking their necks for the organization.

This was where Bastien was headed, trusty clipboard in hand. For a rather grim area, he looked absolutely delighted to be here. Seated in folding chairs, the man surveyed the new recruits with raised eyebrows. Standing in front was Karren, looking mildly bored with her trusty sniper and duffle bag on the floor.

"Is that... Really all of you? Very well. I suppose a small task force would be better than sending a whole platoon." He retrieved his horned spectacles from his pocket, and slid them on. "Ahem. My name is Bastien Forte, and I am the Butler of The Fallen Army. I am in charge of overseeing the maintenance of this place and ensuring that all problems are taken care of. Repairs, requisitions, meal plans, furnishing the facility -- I am the one who delegates such tasks. I am also the Hiring Manager."

He paused, peering over his glasses for dramatic effect.

"I've gathered you all here under the Leader's strict orders. As you've no doubt seen from the Assignment Board, we have some pests that need to be taken care of in the Sierra Nevadas. You are a trial squad, and if you succeed, not only will you be paid, but you will be given future work. Room and board will be provided, along with the necessary equipment you'll need. Food is something you'll have to find on your own, I'm afraid.

Winter is settling in, so make sure you have everything you need. Karen will be coming along with you, as both a guide and evaluator. Please her and you please me."

The woman saluted, piercings and horns gleaming under the fluorescent light.

"If you don't have anymore questions," he gestured to the door behind them. "Through that door is the armory. Equip yourself with whatever you need. Remember, winter is coming and I suggest you dress warmly. Unfortunately everything is second hand, but it's all been inspected. Karen has the vehicle and she'll meet you out in the parking lot."

"It's the crimson Jeep Wrangler. Can't miss it," she quipped. "Don't take too long ladies and gents. It's almost dark, and I'd like to leave before the bandits wake up." She glanced down her wrist, the glass face cracked. "Well you can chat for a little bit, but if you don't hurry I'll find someone else to do the job."

She saluted once more, lifted her bag, and headed out.

 

[Ythania]

Ronnie flinched at the sight of cars. Her chest pounded with nerves, her fingers flexing and un-flexing anxiously as she paced slowly across the ruined landscape of Las Vegas. Upon staring at the derelict casino houses and creative decorations, Ronnie felt a twinge of regret for having not visited this area pre-Calamity, and presumed that she would spend a very, very fun week in a place like this even if she didn't have any money. But now, all that was left of the smear of sin were the towering hotels, crashed and dusty cars, and a fair number of dark alleyways with shapes flitting in and out of their shadows ominously.

But it wasn't the bandits that scared Ronnie; it was the thought of going into such a civilized area again. After two years of hiding, it's been so long since she's really...talked to someone - at least, not with them being at knife-point, and not yelling at them to hand over everything they have. Now another car rolled past and again Ronnie twitched, stumbling a little as she heard the engine, her bright orange eyes widening in fear.

Eventually, Ronnie relented; she could see the gaudy castle of Hotel Excalibur from where she was standing, but she couldn't get any closer without a breather. Quickly, she turned and sat down in the cold, mouldy and stinking dark of an old alleyway, heaped up with rotting rubbish and the odd dead animal or two. her breathing was quick, and panicked. She couldn't face such a large group without gathering her thoughts. "It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay," she whispered to herself, staring down at her gloved hands until they stopped shuddering.

With a deep breath, Ronnie entered the threshold of Hotel Excalibur, and felt sickened by what she saw.

It was almost exactly like an old military base; the place was clean and organised, and normal humans worked alongside abnormalities with very little reaction or care. They even had large supply crates moving to and fro - supplies which Ronnie would, and had, killed for - and the place was littered with tanks and guns. With a sneer under her mask, Ronnie moved inside with the other recruits She didn't believe that those tanks or guns would last more than a couple of years, at best; after all, with the factories all looted and decaying, where will they get their ammunition?

Despite being in a crowd, Ronnie certainly knew how to stand out - her clothes, torn, muddy and bloodstained as they were, happened to be the brightest. She wore a reddish waterproof coat, and underneath it was something fairly new; a neon, knitted Christmas shirt with the word "TINSELBITCH" on the front; and a Hello Kitty bandanna over her nose and mouth, as per usual. The rest of it was exactly the same; she wore enough so that not a single piece of skin was shown, and bandages made out of her old clothes littered her body. Her short stature, compared with her garish taste in clothing, seemed to single her out as being younger than she actually was.

A woman with a clipboard approached the mass of recruits - Ronnie included - and asked them in turn what they specialised in. A strong part of Ronnie wanted to go to the technology wing and put her uni degree to good use, but an even stronger part of her cringed at the thought of what would happen when she got hungry, and reluctantly, Ronnie replied to the woman that she was destined to go into Military.

A man in a tuxedo and white gloves greeted the smaller team of military recruits, along with a woman with horns and strange eyes. Again, there was a presence of a gun; they would be useless sooner or later. The whole idea was pointless. The man specifically really struck out as someone Ronnie would be rather glad to sink her teeth into; the way he carried himself, along with his critiquing tone, didn't really give her much of a reason to feel anything aside from irritation about him. People were suffering out there and he managed to get his suit pressed and gloves washed.

For a while, Ronnie tuned out his orders, still seething over his immaculate attire and manners. She wasn't a soldier; she was a killer, a serial killer who wanted a proper place to sleep for once, and that was about it. Eventually, Ronnie's slow mind picked up on the mention of 'Room and board', and she grinned when she was told that food wasn't available...that meant she had a chance to go out and play between missions.

The horned woman was introduced as Karen. Ronnie didn't know whether she liked her too much; she hadn't done anything to cause any dislike, aside from carrying a gun. Ronnie's eyes were fixed on Bastien, though; she wasn't too sure whether or not to make a snide comment. Eventually, Ronnie turned away and stalked off to the armoury.

Ronnie's breath caught in her throat; she had never seen so much in her life. Instantly, she grabbed a second bag greedily and started filling it with medical supplies, bottles of ethanol, needles and threads, wound dressing...she really missed having a first-aid kit on hand. As an afterthought, she also picked up a pair of new trainers her size, and just to spite the Army, picked up some spare ammunition that she'll never use, but perhaps barter for something she would need later on.

Ronnie took a glance around at the other recruits warily. For a brief, silly moment, Ronnie thought about making friends; then she remembered where she was, and why she was not allowed to do that anymore. Miserably, the short, colourful girl headed towards the car, a feeling of unease settling in her stomach at the thought of climbing into a car again.

 

[Kaz]

Since having first heard the advertisement, Jacob was quick to make his way to Las Vegas to join the Fallen Army. It had become increasingly difficult to find jobs over time, so the offer of room and board alongside a reliable source of work would have been too much to pass up. Still, he'd gotten distracted upon arriving in the large city and had spent a couple of days simply exploring the streets. He couldn't help himself, really, there was a certain allure to the place. Something once so lively was now so dead. He'd run into trouble with the shadow dwellers a few times, but if that was something he couldn't handle, why would he have even considered joining the Army?

Now that he was done looking around and finally stood at the edge of Excalibur, Jacob lowered his tinted glasses to get a better look. It was gaudy, like most buildings in Vegas, but he could see how it could work pretty well as a base of operations. Stepping forward into the territory, the Abnormal took in his surroundings as he continued towards the main building. The place certainly held a lot more livelihood than the rest of the city. He couldn't help but wonder how many times bandits or leftover gangs had attempted to raid the area for their supplies.

Entering the building, Jacob was directed towards the rest of the recruits. He was just in time, it seemed... While the majority of the people in the group were sent off to various different areas, Jacob frowned some as he thought about it. Even before the Calamity, he had never specialized in much of anything worthwhile. He was only able to decide as he heard another recruit answer with 'Military.' That would be about all he was good for, wouldn't it?

Upon arriving at the Military Wing with the others, Jacob looked around, ever curious of new surroundings. His eyes eventually focused on the sharply dressed man as he spoke. That was certainly an accent he hadn't heard in a long time. Jacob listened quietly to the Butler, making a few mental judgements. Normally, he'd have something to say about how much better off Bastien seemed than the rest of the people in the city, but with the British man being the 'Hiring Manager,' he could keep it to himself. His focus shifted towards Karen as she was mentioned, quirking a brow. She actually looked like a demon. He couldn't help but wonder how often those over-sized horns got in the way of daily activities.

As they were dismissed to gather supplies, Jacob followed the others to the armory, glancing around. There was more than he'd expected to be available for new recruits, but he realized the supplies would quickly diminish if he didn't hurry and grab his share. Going around the room, he tried to focus on the necessities, things he would definitely use. The only thing he was comfortable claiming an abundance of was medical supplies. He noticed most of the others were simply having a field day with it, maybe looking to sell or trade the extra. The first thing Jacob went for was something warmer to wear, as was suggested. He'd swiped his current coat off a random corpse; while he didn't particularly care, the smell was just something that wouldn't fade.

Once he was sure he had everything he needed, Jacob headed out to the Jeep. Waiting for the others to arrive, he paused and glanced towards the female that had arrived before him. She didn't show it so much, but she still seemed uncomfortable. "...You gonna get carsick or something?" He spoke, quirking a brow behind the shades.

 

[Kazama]

Las Vegas, Nevada. Established May 15, 1905. Once had a population of 1,659.5 people per square kilometer. Known for it's casinos and gambling. Freidrich remembered all that from a pamphlet he once read. He had only been here once before the Calamity, but that was not important. The city was still teeming with life. It was simply a different kind of life and it was more subtle than the previous inhabitants. Either way, the lives of the various forms of life that were now dwelling in Las Vegas was not important, but he would save this though for later in case he needed something to think about. Freidrich found himself running out of things to think about recently. It was... unpleasant.

However, being in a heavily populated area (relatively speaking) was certainly a change. Freidrich had come here from the east when he had heard of the Fallen Army. After a bit of consideration of course. To him, an organized militia seemed to be the easiest way of not only exploring a bit more, but perhaps coming closer to curing his... problem. But was something he wouldn't think about. This was one of the things he tried not to think about even if he ran out of things to think about. It's why he needed more things to think about and figure out.

What was important was The Fallen Army. Freidrich stood in front of Hotel Excalibur with his hands in the pockets of his coat. Hotel Excalibur, opened June 1990, contained 3,981 rooms in total, and utilizing an Arthurian theme. Freidrich learned that from the same pamphlet from which he had learned Las Vegas covered 352 square kilometers. He studied the vehicles that were parked outside. Most of them were pre-Calamity, although the chances of newly modified vehicles being used to bolster the fleet wasn't out of the question. Most of them were armed as well. Firearms. Efficient if used effectively.

He allowed himself to be herded with the rest of the travelers that had arrived. He noted several with various mutations. Many preferred to use the fairy-tale names for these people, but Friedrich saw them with the cold eye of science. Mutations. Himself included. He hadn't quite figured out how it all happened (and he had done quite a bit of research), but the most logical conclusion was that they were all some sort of non-lethal mutation. Well, most of them. There were some cases. Don't think about it.

When placed in a category for this Fallen Army, Freidrich considered medicine, but decided against it. He wasn't about to be cooped up in a clinic digging bullets out of bodies and stitching up unfortunate victims. As for research, anything those neanderthals discovered while they weren't setting bones he would have found out a long time ago. Freidrich was very competitive when it came to other's research. Anyway, the Medicine wing would be a waste of time. So he went with the Military Wing. If he was going to find what he needed, it was going to be out in the wastes.

The man with the tuxedo was odd. Clean. Well dressed. Spoke in a British accent, but did not look British. The odds of a native Englishman in post-Calamity Nevada was... well, he would calculate that later, when he was bored. Still, it was strange to see a man so clean and well dressed in an age of patchwork armor and metal plates. Strange, but not very interesting once he was over it.

The Karen woman seemed to fit in more than her well-dressed companion. New external body parts, piercings, attitude. The apparent uniform of the apocalypse and everyone seemed to wear it. He noticed her rifle. Fifty caliber. Well maintained. Most likely refurbished with parts from other rifles. He wondered why she carried it if all she was doing was leading recruits around.

Freidrich was disgusted with the armory. Chaos. Utter chaos. Apparently the Fallen Army was content to let it's new soldiers ravage the provided supplies like pigs rushing to a slop bucket. No standard equipment for an even spread of supplies among new recruits. It was poorly planned. Sloppy. Inefficient. Freidrich hated things that were inefficient and wasteful more than he liked those that were the opposite. He wouldn't be surprised if fights broke out that had to be settled with wounds to mend, leading to a further waste of supplies. He was beginning to reconsider his cooperation with the Fallen Army. He picked out a small sidearm and a box of ammunition. He seldom engaged in combat with others, but one never knew. He picked up a small bag of medical supplies while he was at it. He could work with this. A small ballistics vest for armor and got himself out of the madhouse that was supposed to be an armory.

 

[Brøken_Serenity]

Viktoria SaintClaire

At the moment Viktor felt tiny. Not because of her literal size, she was at full height now. She was in a rather impending enviorment at the moment. There was a butler, american looking, speaking in a british accent that would make one think he'd lived their all his life. Then this Karen person. She was... frightening. But that was only temporary fear. Something transient and shallow, easy to move past and forget. The hotel was large and flashy. The name of a sword from a famous tale Viktor had long forgotten the exacts of. She knew the premise however and that was enough for her.

The introduction was brief and to the point. Viktor appreciated the bluntness, it made her feel safer.

She honestly had pondered over why she was in the Military Wing rather than Medical. But Viktor could be extremely useful on the battle field, so it made sense. Having someone with medical skills around would turn out to be very useful, along with that Viktor could fix and make guns better than most. Though while she couldn't aim a gun to save her life.... literally, what she could do was make, create and actually utilize bombs. Not any ragtag one to say the least. But on the other hand she was young, extremely so. She didn't have much experience in what she did.

She headed to the Armory silently. The weapons weren't up to Viktor's standards. In her eyes all they were, were scrap. Scrap she'd use to make other things. She grabbed a few, strapping them to her belt. She was then shoved to the side, a recruit. Male, much taller than herself. She brushed it off, conflict was unneccessary. She grabbed some medical supplies. Stuffing them in a pouch on her hip. Gauze, Antibiotics, Antiinflammatories. No band-aids and nothing for pain. Her skills made that an unneccessary weight she'd have to carry. She was pushed aside again by a recruit grabbing weapons. She grimaced, swearing to keep her cool. She packed a few handgrenades. Nothing warm, if she was cold she'd just get small. She'd hide in someone elses pocket and get warm like that. She didn't need anything slowing her down.

She left and spotted the car immediatley. She approached the Jeep, walking up to the male and female talking.
Correction: The Male was talking, the female wasn't.

She decided not to try to enter the car since it seemed nobody else was. She simply leaned against the cool metal, occupying her time by going over the weaponry material she'd nabbed and what she could make from it in her head.

Viktor was short, young and female. People tended to run over her. She had to be prepared.​

 

[a touch of dread]

Adonna pinched the bridge of her nose. The way the other recruits rushed in to horde supplies... This was not the Army, in fact, the Army didn't exist any longer. She couldn't expect this 'Fallen Army' to have the level of organization or be able to command the level of discipline the now dissipated Army once had. Taking her index finger and thumb away from her nose, she quieted the feelings within using her thoughts. Simply, this was a good thing trying to get started. Where it was going to go, that was uncertain. But she had the opportunity to be part of it.

And right now, being part of it meant getting prepped to take down these bandits. Using her dark to scan the armory, Adonna finally made a move to a long, dark weapon mounted on the wall. Drawing closer, a small flick of a smile pushed the corner of her lip upwards. Removing the mittens off her hands, she placed them in her pocket before removing the gun from the wall. The M16A2... and for secondhand, it was in beautiful shape. The gun clicked as she checked its clip, then the chamber, before feeling satisfied. Any more testing would really have to be done on the field...

Happy with her choice, Adonna grabbed a few clips for the M16, as well as some for her own Berettta, and then walked out of the armory. Well, more like she waddled out. The ridiculous layers of clothing she wore due to the chill... She'd gotten much too used to the coastal weather where she'd held her old job. Either way, there wasn't any sense in wearing the large, white, puffy coat to the mission. This in mind, Adonna exited the building to the lot, but instead of heading straight to the red jeep, the woman first returned to her own car.

Popping the trunk, Adonna grimaced as she stripped off the large white coat and her several other layers, tossing them in the back. Down to what would be considered the 'normal' layer, she pulled out from her trunk a Kevlar vest and wore it over her clothes. One by one, what she needed she brought out: a leather jacket, well-worn, over her vest and zipped up. The woman was essentially in all black now-- a purposeful move. The next, a square bag, carrying in it all her miscellaneous necessary supplies. She slipped the acquired clips within it before slinging it onto her back. The last two, the Beretta in its holster. The belt was made to be strapped around her upper leg. Fastening it, Adonna picked up the M16 once more.

Geared up, the newly acquired gun in her hand, Adonna finally made her was to the horned woman's jeep. What was her name again... Karen... she recalled. Other recruits had already gathered at the crimson Jeep Wrangler. So these men and women... they would be her fellow combatants... And with them, she'd be going into the field... the field... Adonna shook her head silently. This was definitely going to be a drastic change of pace from her old job.