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.