The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

Jorick · Jul 29, 2016

Bob and Carolyn
A Collab with @Brovo

The past week had been a lazy one for Bob. He'd mostly sat around at home, smoking cigars and trying to ignore the weird whispers and feelings coming from elsewhere in the city and waiting for the inevitable message telling him it was time for the next mission. While just sitting and thinking was a common enough pastime for him, this time he did some reading. Reading was not a common pastime for ol' Bob, but he made an exception when murderous freaks started making literary references with their threats. Finding a Bible wasn't all that hard, though it cost quite a lot more than he wanted to pay for the thing, as it always was with luxury items. He read through the early bits, and it didn't take long at all to get to the part where the city of Sodom was destroyed for various sins. He was left less confused than he had been, and the remaining confusion was brushed away easily enough with the realization that the freak from the fog was a religious zealot. Those types never made sense anyway, so trying to find sense in their words was a fool's errand. Bob read on a ways further before tiring of the exercise and deciding a week was plenty enough time to wait around doing nothing, and there was only one place he felt like going to see about getting shit done.

The machine shop had a familiar noise about it on usual days, but as Bob strolled in he heard some extra, both the added ruckus of more tools at work and faint strains of some yelling from upstairs. He was no pilot, but the place was still a familiar and friendly one, being more or less the headquarters of the Old Guard. Usually he came around to shoot the shit and help out the more tech-savvy folks as a bit of manual labor, but it seemed like today wasn't gonna be a day for relaxing, especially not if the folks hollering upstairs were arguing about something related to all the extra work being done. He looked around for familiar faces and spotted Carolyn working on her tank. If anyone would know what was going on, odds were it'd be her.

Bob walked over and took a look at the work going on all around as he did so. Most of it was beyond his understanding, but it seemed like vehicles and weapons were being prepared for something. Maybe dropping out of the loop for a week hadn't been a great idea after all, but there was no use regretting it now. He greeted Carolyn with a brief wave as he approached. "Looks like we're gettin' ready for a war in here. What's the story? I've been taking it easy since we got back, guess I missed something."

The scent of oil would assault Bob's nose as Carolyn stops what she's doing inside her tank. She looks out the frontal view port, and seeing who it was, she climbs out of the tank and coughs, a little smoke billowing out from inside. She starts speaking, starting in a yell, then quieting down a little when her hearing started to return. "GOOD THING YOU WAVED, OR I WOULD NOT HAVE SEEN YOU!" She was wearing a simple jumpsuit, made of fireproofed materials. Her hair was a mess, tied up and kept together with a net. She pulls up her welder's mask, looking down at Bob, and motioning with a pair of thick, dirty gloves, over her tank. "She's a fuckin' mess after what those Coalition morons shoved in. It's like they didn't want me to take out all of their tracking equipment." A self-satisfied smirk reaches her lips. "Alright, seriously though Bob, some shit's going down. You might want to climb up here and we can start talking about it."

Bob gave her a grin and an approving nod. "Oh, I'm sure they'll be all sorts of mad about it. Fuck 'em though, good work." He walked round to the side of the tank for an easier climb and made his way up without too much of a struggle, just some grunts of exertion. A quick glance down through the tank's hatch proved Carolyn right: it was a fuckin' mess if he'd ever seen one. "Shit's goin' down, huh? I think I can guess at most of the big picture if you're ripping out Coalition spy hardware, but run me through the details anyway."

"Well..." She glances about the area. "Alright, I know you. You've been with The Old Guard for ages. I remember you fighting when I was still trying to learn how to read." Carolyn opens the tank hatch, then watches it roll off its hinges and down onto the floor with a loud thud. "Dammit, rookie mistake." She mutters under her breath as she climbs inside. She motions for Bob to follow her, likely so they could talk privately in the dark, dormant machine.

Bob chuckled as he watched the hatch fall away. "Long as you learn from 'em, mistakes are just fine. Well, that and you gotta live through 'em. You should be fine this time." He climbed down after her into the tank, taking it slow to go easy on his back. The interior looked like it had been attacked by some beast with an unnaturally powerful hatred of machines. Bob lowered his voice to make sure it wouldn't carry far outside the tank. "Well shit, guess the Coalition had its claws sunk in deep if you had to do all this. What've the rat bastards done now?" The statement had no real vitriol in it: he stated it as if it were a plain fact that the Coalition were a bunch of rat bastards, not as if it was meant as a stinging insult.

"Hmph. You know what they do." Her tone turns mocking, as she imitates Jenive's voice. "For the greater good this, for the good of all that, we just need to listen to everything you do, and you should just do everything we tell you to do. Stick bugs in your tank, stick bugs in your workshop, stick bugs in your wrenches, blah blah blah." She rolls her eyes and chuckles, shaking her head and opening a tool box beside her. There, she pulls out a file folder. It had pictures in it. "Mouse sent these to me. Satellite photos." The pictures show scenes of carnage: U-ARM forces, and one lone survivor--though the survivor appeared wounded. "It's one of those people... From the fog. Apparently, it can't get very far. It's wounded, somehow, though I don't really understand how. I guess... Outside of the fog, they can't take too many hits. Somehow The Coalition can tell, I sure as fuck can't." She stretches her legs out one at a time, as she keeps speaking. She was trying to feign being calm and nonchalant, but it was clear there was some fear in her voice. "Look... Officially, we're gonna go in with The Coalition again. A two pronged attack, so that if U-ARM tries to stop us from getting near it, one of us gets through. If that happens to be us... We're going to take it, and bring it back with us. We're gonna question it, ourselves. Learn whatever it is The Coalition is hiding from us about these things... Because something tells me they know a lot more than they're fucking telling us, and I don't like it."

She finishes stretching, and looks Bob dead in the eyes. One of the satellite photos shows the creature staring up toward the sky, toward the satellite. "Whatever it is, it knows it was being watched, and went into hiding in a building... With whatever strength it had left. We're going after it this evening. No delays. That's why I'm working my ass off on this girl." She taps the interior a couple times with a wrench. "She's gettin' a full check-up before we go out tonight. I don't want any peeping toms on my date, you know? Got enough problems goin' around this town in a dress, don't need no government watchin' me too."

Bob listened without interruption, his jovial smile slowly fading into a concerned frown. "Well, shit." He stood there silently for a long stretch, thinking everything over and letting that succinct summary of his feelings on the matter stand alone as he did so. "Course those assholes know more'n they tell us, and you can bet your ass they're plannin' the same thing, grab the guy and take him somewhere so we never find him. U-ARM is a bad enough complication, but I'd put money down on seein' some of them fog fuckers show up and try to rescue their pal. It's gonna be a real shitshow, and I'm gettin' too damn old for it." Bob rolled his shoulders slowly and was rewarded with a prolonged crackling like the bones themselves were protesting the unnecessary movement. "Ain't quite that old yet though, and givin' the Coalition a nice poke in the eye seems like a fun way to spend the evening. I'll be there."

With the serious business done for the moment as far as he was concerned, Bob shot Carolyn a little grin. "Don't think I've ever seen you in a dress, but if I did and I was your age I'd probably be one o' them desperate assholes hasslin' you for attention. Used to be a little shit back in the day, y'know?" He gave a wistful sigh and shook his head. "If I met my younger self I'd have to give him a nice slap upside the head now, though. You seem like you've got your shit together, but that took me a lot more years than it should've. I don't think I said it before, but you did a good job last week, out in the last shitshow. That was the first time I worked under your lead and I had some doubts, but you squashed 'em by not bein' stupid. You keep that up and I think we're gonna work real well together in the future."

"I'm glad you think so, Bob." She smiles a little shyly at his compliments, but simply puts her wrench back into her toolbox. She then snatches the file folder out of his hands, and puts it away as well. "As for... Other people. Well, everybody loses somebody they love before they're old enough to even know why in these times... Sex is just a cheap escape. A thrill to make the loneliness go away for a little while... I don't blame people for wanting to indulge in it as much as they do. Just so long as they figure out that no means no, I don't really care. It's cold and empty, like most of them." It was a lie to some degree, her confidence was faltering a little. It was strange, as though something was affecting her, making her a little more comfortable than she might be otherwise. For a moment, she seemed to recognize this, and quietly looks back at Bob.

"Heh... Sorry. I guess that's gettin' a bit personal. You with us?" She offers a handshake to him. "I'll be taking the lead again... Much to The Coalition's chagrin."

"Don't worry about it, I ain't the type to go blabbin' about what other people ramble about. I'm used to it, cause lots of people get all chatty'n personal with me. Guess I just have that effect on people." Bob shrugged as if it was some strange mystery with no answer, then took her offered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Good, let 'em be mad about it, maybe they'll make some dumb mistakes and give you somethin' to take advantage of. Am I with you? Hell, couldn't ask for a better fight to watch than some U-ARM and Coalition dickheads taking each other down. No way am I gonna miss the chance to see that, so course I'm gonna be there. Guess I should go get my shit ready for a night out on the town."

Bob took a step toward the hatch, then remembered the yelling he'd heard from upstairs and turned back to Carolyn. "You got any idea what the yelling up there is all about? Seems to me it ain't nothin' good if it's goin' on when there's a big job planned for tonight."

She pauses momentarily as she closes her toolbox, preparing to get out of her tank to work on it some more. "If I had to take a guess? Probably the future of this colony. Marie wants us to buddy up with The Coalition and join them, but establish some sort of independent council so we always have our own laws... Dad thinks we should start talking to U-ARM, because he wants to keep us in the bargaining position as long as we can." She grimaces and shakes her head. "I think they're both too stubborn and don't think well enough on us. The people would be with us, we just have to act together. Stop fighting... Ah, but I guess old blood doesn't go away easy, does it?" She smiles as she looks up at Bob. "Y'all old folks need to check your egos sometimes."

Bob snorted out a brief laugh and nodded in agreement. "Only bit you got wrong there is the 'sometimes.' Old shits like myself tend to think they know everything worth knowin' just cause we made it through a lotta years. Tryin' to stay humble is a struggle, but I manage it. I'm the humblest motherfucker here in Bunker Chicago, y'know." He grinned at his own little joke for a moment before continuing. "Dealin' with us old farts is easier if you remember everyone's a dumbass sometimes. Coalition ain't gonna let us be independent no matter what they agree to on paper, and U-ARM cares too much about the past to be any use to us folks who wanna make the best of the future. We're either gonna have to force the Coalition out ourselves or accept them bein' in charge, cause they ain't gonna accept much of anything in between."

Bob shrugged a shoulder and let out a little sigh. "But maybe that's me bein' a dumbass too. Could be workin' together instead of fighting could work out. Might be you'll just have to wait for the old blood to thin out a little and take the reins for yourself to see it happen." He shrugged again and glanced toward the hatch. "Well, thanks for the info, guess I won't go stickin' my nose into that mess cause it'd just get chewed off once I told 'em they was both bein' dumbasses. Good luck getting this thing back together in time for the fun, I'll be real disappointed if I can't hitch a ride from you tonight." Bob flashed her another grin from amidst his bushy beard, this time accompanied with a little wave before he headed for the hatch to get himself ready for a fight.

Carolyn stares and watches him leave, before shaking herself out and rubbing at her eyes. "Strange feelings..."

Holmishire · Jul 31, 2016

Hewitt Ziegler & Carolyn Antoinette
A collab between @Holmishire and @Brovo.

Hewitt strode into the Old Guard's machine shop, stopping momentarily to admire the work that was being done therein. A relaxed smile graced an otherwise weary face as he looked over the machinery and engineers.

He seemed to start towards the second floor of the building at the direction of one of the workers, intent on speaking to Marie Black and Devin Antoinette. However, he instead veered from his path at the sight of Carolyn working on her tank. As he approached her, he notably donned a more respectful expression and posture. "Hello, squad leader," he said with a hint of mock formality. "It's good to see you're back at work—I was a little worried that despite the circumstances, there might still have been some repercussions for your decision."

Carolyn was laying against her tank, eyes closed with a peaceful expression on her face. Her hair and uniform were peppered with oil and grease stains, and beside her was a welder's torch and helmet. As he speaks, she opens one eye and and then taps her knuckles on the tank. "Oh, no. There were repercussions. I doubt The Coalition will ever trust me again, but, well, I'm surprised they trusted me to begin with. What, with the permanent stick up their ass?" She giggles and shakes her head. "C'mon, sit with me. Then we'll talk."

Hewitt seats himself on the tank, without taking the time to get particularly comfortable. "Trust you or not, they'd have to be fools to shut you off. I doubt they can muster the support to unite the bunkers with any member of the Antoinette family behind bars." He sighs. "Still, I put in a good word for you. Now's a damned bad time for infighting."

"There's never a good time for it, but people do it anyway." Carolyn replies with a sigh, as she unzips her jumpsuit just enough to allow for some fresh air to get in. Working with a welder in confined spaces in a heavy jumpsuit was not particularly a comfortable activity. She reaches for a nearby bottle of water and drinks it greedily before setting it back aside. "So what are you doin' 'round my machine shop?"

"I came to see your father, but I heard he's in something of a heated discussion right now. It's pretty simple, really: I want to help. I don't care if it's with the raiders, or the fog—Ivanov told me it were going to get worse fast, and I don't want to sit around and wait for it to happen."

"Really? You're going to work with us and not The Coalition?" Carolyn asks curiously, as she looks at him eye to eye. She was trying to read his facial expressions. "You sure? Once you're with us, you're with us until this mission is over."

"My loyalty is to the Bunker, not the Coalition. That's why I came back." He grimaced, though not in disgust—rather as if fighting between conflicting emotions. "I'm not saying the choice is easy, but. I trust you. As much as I might wish otherwise, I don't trust them."

"Well..." Carolyn stands up slowly and stretches herself out. A couple passing men glance her over, and she doesn't seem to care as she zips herself back up. "Maybe there's a little hope for you. Get in the tank, I'll bring you up to speed when we have a little more privacy so I don't have to yell over all the work here."

Hewitt nods silently, and rises from his seat to enter the tank, ahead of Carolyn. "I'd hate to disappoint," he mutters sarcastically. "So, what's going on? Did the Old Guard manage to figure out your samples of the fog?"

With little effort, Carolyn hops into her tank and lands an inch away from Hewitt, before settling herself back to give him a little extra space. They were not the most spacious of quarters, for obvious reasons. Reaching toward her toolbox, she opens it, and pulls out a file folder. Handing it to him, he would find inside a few photographs--satellite photos, at that. "Mouse sent those to me, God bless his terribly curious mind." Looking through it, Hewitt would see a battle--U-ARM forces being gutted by something outside of the fog. An individual, which, didn't quite seem right. "It's one of those people, from the fog. It appears injured. Can't explain how, or why. I guess they're weaker outside of the fog--The Coalition knows more than they're telling."

She pauses momentarily, letting him go through more of the files at his own pace. One photo in particular shows the creature staring up directly toward the satellite. "It somehow knew it was being watched, and went into hiding in a building. No help has come for it, so we're guessing it's alone, and wounded badly enough that it can't make it back to the fog on its own." She pulls out a wrench from her tool box and starts twirling it in her hand. "So we're going to go after it. Another joint operation with The Coalition, officially. Unofficially, we're going to grab it first, and leave with it. Bring it back here, interrogate it ourselves--learn whatever it is The Coalition is hiding from us about these things. That's really about the gist of it... What do you think, Hewitt?"

Hewitt glances up from the files. "That'll be a pretty big guy to hide away." He then taps the files with his fingers, while still maintaining eye contact with Carolyn. "Who controls these satellites? Whatever cover-up we offer'll be pretty much moot if they see us waltz in there ahead of schedule."

"We're not going in ahead of schedule. Did you not understand me?" Carolyn's expression turns rather irate. "We're going in as a joint operation, and then, at the last minute, we're whisking it away. Their satellites will be out of range by then--they're in orbit, flying rather quickly around and around. They don't just hover over one spot perpetually you know... Er, maybe you didn't." A sigh leaves her lips as she rubs at her eyes. A little oil is left behind from her hands. "Sorry, I'm a little snappy."

"I—Sorry, I didn't know how expansive their reach goes. I've dealt more with mercenary and raider tactics then, well, real military strategy." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and grinned. "I'll try to keep the dumb questions to a minimum. Are you okay? Something keeping you up, other than the obvious?"

"I just... I have a terrible feeling." Carolyn replies honestly, as she nods in appreciation of the gesture. "Listeners here keep saying that they're hearing whispers, incoherent and... Noise. Noise they can't explain. Like a sickly choir, rising in volume, with every passing hour. None of this makes any sense. Some of the Christian folks are saying these might be the end times... I close my eyes and I see that figure in the fog... Saying my name, and calling us the children of Sodom." She scratches the back of her head and exhales in frustration. "Still, there's nothing more I can do about that, is there?" A comforting smile reaches her lips. "What do you need?"

"What do I need? I need a leader that will do the right thing, not orders. I need a squad that fights to protect people, not to control people. I need trust, that's all." He lowered his hand and leaned back with a sigh. "I don't care what kind of righteous crap they throw at us, I'll stand by you. This isn't the first time the world has supposedly ended, and we're still here, aren't we?"

"Yeah, that's true." She mutters as she takes the file folder from him, and puts it back in the tool box. "Look I'd love to hang out all day and talk about the end of the world, but, I think we'd both be better off if I put my tank back together so when I issue orders of righteousness... You don't have to carry me to the battlefield on your back."

Hewitt straightened up and smiled. "I make a point of carrying people out of danger, not into it." He moves towards the tank's opening, but hesitates before passing through it. "When should I need be ready for this operation? I imagine this is somewhat time sensitive."

"The usual. Weapons, and if you can get your hands on it, I'd imagine thermal goggles would come in handy." She pauses for a moment, her lips momentarily quivering with uncertainty, and a hint of fear. "... And prayer. To whatever you happen to believe in."

"I asked—Nevermind." Hewitt tapped the wrist communicator he'd been assigned in their last mission. "Send me the time and place when you can. Until then, try not to think too much. Thinking gets people killed." That said, the big man climbed his way out of her tank—she'd a hear a thunk followed by a groaned curse as Hewitt bumped his head on the way out.

Carolyn blinks in confusion, then narrows her eyes as she rapidly follows him out of the tank. "I thought you had talked to Marie and my Dad about this?" Confusion was in her tone of voice, before she shakes her head and sighs. "The fumes from my welder must be getting to me. Meet back here this evening, around 1800 hours. Take care, Hewitt." She seems to dismiss the last part of his comment, acting as though she hadn't even heard it.[/hr]

Firemind · Aug 2, 2016

Kiku and Carolyn - The Engineer and the Loose Screw
(Feat. @Brovo as Carolyn)

After her conversation with Marie, Kiku felt herself a little more brooding than she liked. The mission, the weird relationship with the Coalition, and Marie's warning that Bosho was probably dead...They all left the Listener in a strange state of disquiet. It felt like the world was just slightly off-angle. Everything looked tilted, and out of place.

Hoping to have a conversation that was just a little more pleasant, Kiku decided that she should go and...meet some of her fellows, as it were. She knew at least two people who'd also be in the Old Guards camp; and it wouldn't hurt to touch bases with them both. Bob was one, but Kiku had her eyes on the seeing the pretty one first. She made her way towards the Antoinette machine shop, where she suspected she'd find Carolyn, and hopefully not her kinda-scary dad.

Indeed, Carolyn was still well at work on her tank--though it looked as though she was finished ripping out all the components that The Coalition had installed in it. Her hair is tied up in a net, as she uses a welder on the hinges of the tank's main hatch. She doesn't seem to notice Kiku's approach.

Kiku peeked into the machine shop and spotted Carolyn working away at her tank. She grinned at the sight of the woman, despite how blasé she'd been inside the tank at the end of last mission. The quirky Listener had put that down to fatigue and adrenaline more than anything else, so she decided to have another crack at the woman. Also something about working together, and dangerous missions, and monsters and blah, blah, blah...

Walking into the Machine Shop, Kiku watched with a quickly diminishing interest as Carolyn went to work welding her tank. While the sparks were pretty enough, Kiku had little knowledge or even patience for technology. Especially complicated tech like this. After a moment of boredom, when the sparks were flying far enough from each of them, Kiku stepped in close and tapped Carolyn on the shoulder; stepping backwards to make sure the woman didn't turn and torch her on instinct. "Heya Boss~ Thought I should come see my fellow mission buddy. How it cookin', good lookin'?"

Carolyn jumps in surprise, then turns off her welder and peels her mask back. Her face is covered in sweat, her fire retardant jump suit had small oil stains here and there. "You don't just... Gah!" She places the welder down and hops off of her tank, brushing herself off. "You don't just surprise someone working on a tank like that! God dammit. You should have just walked around and waved to get my attention." Once she was finished chastising the woman, she takes off her welder's mask and gloves, and starts adjusting her hair in the net. "I'm doing fine, just... Fine, just in a rush."

Kiku doesn't really react to the telling off; swaying backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet as she listened to Carolyn little chastisement with a smile on her face. When she was done though, Kiku shrugged and leaned in to wrap an arm around Carolyn's shoulder; pulling the pair together at the hip. "Well, I thought it'd be good to catch up with the person who's probably gunna be playing the boss again. I got to see some pretty satalite picture, and they made me think of you." She said, making only the faintest of attempts to be subtle about just what she knew, and just what she'd discussed with Marie. After a moment, Kiku took a moment to concentrate on the mental tick that got her mutation to activate. Her vision shifted into hues of blues and reds and yellows as she saw the world through a thermal lense. She glanced around the workshop to make sure there wasn't anyone listening in, before turning to look at the blob of yellow and red that was Carolyn. "Oooh, anything I can help with in the rush? It doesn't take long for me to get ready for a mission 'n' all. I just strap on my gear and load my gun." She said, as she grinned at the woman next to her. A shift in her skin colour made the otherwise tan Kiku look pale as her mutation's side-effect kicked in, as odd a quirk as ever.

With a chuckle, Carolyn pushes away Kiku's hand and takes a couple steps away, to regain her personal space. "Well, you could get me a plate of food. There's a shop across the street that sells steamed vegetables, I could go for some of whatever they happen to have available today." She pulls her welder's mask back down and turns back to her tank. Her voice is muffled, but Kiku could still understand it. "You'll be back in a few minutes and I'll be taking a break then anyway."

Kiku frowned when Carolyn pushed her away, but when the idea of food was brought up she shrugged it off and smiled at the woman as she spun on her heel and looked towards the shop. "I won't be long then. We have so much we can talk about over lunch." She said, smirking as she exited the machine shop, and headed towards the food stall.

A few minutes later, Kiku exited the food shop with two bowls of steamed veg and a lighter pocket. She sniffed at the bowl, feeling the sudden rush of hunger and the sudden want to share the meal. She briefly tinkered with the idea of bursting into the Machine shop and announcing her arrival with a flourish, but she quickly shelved that idea when she remembered that Devin probably lived under the same roof as his well-protected daughter. Instead, she decided to take a slightly quieter approach; pushing into the Machine Shop with the softest of footsteps and the lightest of touches. The cat-like Listener looked into the shop, seeing if Carolyn was still welding. If she was, Kiku would circle around the tank; walking into the woman's line of sight and tilting her head, smiling at her with a genuine mirth.

Carolyn notices Kiku this time, and stops her welding. She turns off the welder and places it aside, peeling off her welder's mask and taking off the net holding her hair back, letting it flow more freely across her shoulders. Quietly, she leans back against her tank, then slides down it until she's sitting more comfortably on the floor. She motions Kiku over to herself, patting the floor beside her--it seemed most of the workshop was going quiet, as people were taking the unofficial lunch break cue for what it was.

Kiku sauntered over to Carolyn with a pleased half-skip in her step. She sat next to Carolyn and offered her the bowl of food, as she glanced around at the various other figures leaving the workshop with a mild interest. Once Carolyn took the bowl of food, Kiku would start to pick at various pieces of the steamed veg, and letting the room clear for a second as she hummed a garbled tune between mouthfuls.

It wasn't until she felt the room was suitably cleared that she spoke again. "So, looks like we're meetin' one of the fog-dwellers pretty quick, huh? Children of Adam and Eve, or something, right?" She said, nonchalant as a person could possibly sound, talking about a classified mission. "Still probably better than U-ARM, amiright?" She said, smiling as she bit into a crunchy chunk of carrot.

"I'm not sure about that." Carolyn replies, rather bluntly, as she takes her bowl and starts digging in unceremoniously. She speaks with her mouth full, but there's still a rather severe look in her eyes as she stares blankly at the wall. "I don't know my Bible inside and out. Picked one up. Found the parts about Sodom this morning..." She swallows her food back and closes her eyes. Leaning her head back against the tank, she exhales slowly from her nose, then takes a breath and finishes her thought. "It doesn't end well for Sodom."

Kiku listens to Carolyn as she mentions Sodom, and its less-than-comforting fate. She herself had ignored anything to do with the Bible, just as she had whenever Marie had mentioned the book. From what she understood, it preached a message from a man called God, who was said to have made the world; and love everything, and everyone. If that was the case, why didn't he love her? Why did he hate her mother? Why did he let bad people like Bosho live, but good people like Marie suffer? The idea of him existing just made no sense to Kiku.

"Huh, well I've never been much for that Bible stuff. There are better fairy tales to read children than that one." She said, looking between Carolyn, and the wall, and then back at Carolyn. "But they seem pretty scary, I guess. At least they don't hate me enough to want to kill me yet, if last mission was anything to go by." She said, shrugging her shoulders as she shoveled in another mouthful of food, leaning back against the tank and slouching as she kicked off her raggedy shoes, wiggling her socked-toes in the Machine Shop's over-warm air. "I mean, it's not like it matters to me if these Children of Adam hate me or not. I'm used to strangers hating me; just makes popping them all the easier." She said, making a mock gun which she shot at an invisible figure who stood at the wall, smiling.

"That's it, though. Why not? You're one of us." She continues to eat her food, seeming quietly content with it. "A cult of listeners... It's already breeding fear, and we don't even know anything about them. These don't seem like regular strangers either. Whatever they are, they crushed Bosho like he was an ant."

She paused as she listened to Carolyn, nodding at the mention of increased tension in the Bunker, and how she'd been on the end of it at times. "I guess I don't know why they don't wanna get me, we don't know enough about them yet." She said, putting her bowl of food down to the side of her half-finished. She paused, running the nail of one finger along the back of her other hand; tracing manic, unorganised shapes on her own skin. "But that's why we're gunna have to succeed on this mission, right? So we can learn more about these Fog-dwellers." She said, a touch of nerves causing her voice to quieten.

After a moment though, she turned to look at Carolyn. "What about you?" She said, letting her question hang for a second. "Are you afraid of listeners? Of people like me?"

"No." Carolyn replies quickly, before clearing her throat and zipping her jumpsuit down a little, to let air into the suit. "Not... Not really, Kiku. I'm scared of ones that might get in my head. Make me think things that ain't my thoughts, but, there's not a lot of those around. I'm not scared of you."

"Not really, huh?" She said, frowning a little at the trepidation. Truth be told, she didn't fault Carolyn for her answer; especially when she elaborated on the kinds of Listeners who frightened her. They frightened her, too. Kiku glanced over at Carolyn, noticing the slightly unzipped jumpsuit. Kiku smirked a little, then cranked it up to eleven. She wolf-whistled playfully, nudging Carolyn with her elbow as she did. "Careful boss. Wouldn't want me getting the wrong idea. You might never get rid of me then." She said, before suddenly jumping up to her feet. The nimble woman was up in a blink, and she took a few steps forward, turning on the heel of her boots as she faced Carolyn and the door, a big ol' grin on her face. "Hell, I've already wasted enough of your time. I think I'm gunna go cause some trouble somewhere else; might annoy that Coalition Sniper, or find someone else to bug: might even go punch one of U-ARM's wingnut followers." She said, before adding a quick "...Only if I'm provoked, of course." She said, grinning as she winked at the pretty Pilot.

Walking towards the door, Kiku left the bowl of steamed vegetables half-eaten on the floor next to Carolyn. She turned her head and waved. "Catch you later, boss."

Carolyn blinks, and waves back. Notably, she said or indicated nothing for or against Kiku's little suggestions, as she turned back to her meal with a small smile on her face.

Seba · Aug 3, 2016

Cathryn's Introduction
With Evelyn

It had hardly been a month since The Coalition had punted Ryn out of the lab and into the real world. They had set her up in a fairly cushy one bedroom apartment somewhat close to the lab and gave her a small stipend a week to not starve. She had been left with no instructions aside from checking in at the lab once a month to make sure her mutations weren't about to turn her savage.

At first the freedom had been exhilarating. Cathryn was free to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. She could have breakfast at midnight and dinner at noon. She could paint on the walls (although she had been advised against to and her art skills were slightly worse than absolute shit), dance around in her underwear, or even sit outside and watch people. The last bit was pretty boring. When she had first moved in she had thought it would be the most interesting part of freedom. She was no longer being watched day in and day out, or asked to listen to or smell things that sometimes didn't exist. The scientists were weird like that. No, she was the one who watched now.

Except the people around her apartment were boring. They pretty much stuck to a schedule and didn't do anything exciting. A few listeners would walk by sometimes, and she'd race to her window to try and see them, but she didn't venture out to introduce herself.

She had heard through the walls that there was a soup line run by The Coalition. Ryn had also heard a lot of other things she had never been exposed to before, but she tried not to think about them. There were rocking bed frames at night and whispers through almost every waking moment through the past week. At first the whispers and feelings had scared her and made her want to return to the basement laboratory she was used to, but they never lasted too long and she had written them off as her hearing not picking something up completely. The feelings were weird... but so was she, wasn't she?

Then she slowly grew more curious. Once or twice a week the noises would break through her apprehension and drive her to try and find their origin. Ryn would wander through the streets in pursuit of the voices, but every day she had gotten frightened at the end and hurried back to her home. The bunker was full of noises and smells she did not like, but she was getting used to them. She braved through the crowds with quick steps, keeping her head down and the hood of her new jacket up.

Today she was going to find them. She had her hands shoved in her jacket's pockets and her hood up to help hide her visor. She had considered leaving without the conspicuous bit of tech, but the idea of being blind in a new area scared her more than those who would try to mug her. That's what her pistol was for.

Cathryn wove through the streets and alleys in search of the source, occasionally trying to chirp back at the voices and follow the sound waves, but it didn't work like she had hoped. Eventually she found the right alley, one that didn't smell to high heaven or echo with screeches and scratches of rodents. There was a woman who seemed oddly like one of her scientist... friends... but wasn't. She didn't smell like them.

"Hello?" Her voice was a thread of a whisper, hardly louder than a pin hitting the stone beneath her feet. Ryn had gotten too used to her own solitude, her own hearing, to think that perhaps the woman in front of her wouldn't be able to catch her voice.

The woman turns, slowly, when Catheryn speaks. The first noticeable oddity was the orange hue to her irises, and the second was the oddly soothing feeling that seemed to emanate from her. It was strange, but even as Ryn struggled to see properly, she somehow instinctively knew these things. She hears a soothing, almost motherly voice, but it comes from no direction, the woman's mouth doesn't open--it was a form of telepathy. "Another approaches, but I do not believe we have met before. What is your name, child?"

This didn't feel right. How was someone in her head? Cathryn started shaking her head and trying to knock the thoughts out, but instead she still heard the woman.

"I'm Cathryn. Who are you? Why are you here?" To say she was scared would be an understatement, and so she didn't dare go any closer to the strange woman. Even in the labs she had never seen anyone with eyes like that.

"Do not fear. I will not hurt you." She replies, gently. The soothing feeling remains, it was clear it was emanating from the woman herself. "I am Evelyn Tenebris. As for why I am here, I cannot share that just yet. Not without knowing... What do you want?"

The soothing feeling did begin to calm Ryn's nerves, but it wasn't enough to make her truly comfortable with Evelyn. When the woman went farther to say that she couldn't even say why she was there Ryn couldn't bring herself to even to begin to trust her.

"I'm here because I keep hearing things in my head that aren't real. I already hear to many things that are real to let more racket in." She began to raise her voice to be a normal volume, still weirded out by the lady in her head. Even though Evelyn's voice echoed in her mind it did not block out the sound of traffic and people in the surrounding buildings.

"Hm, a shame. You should listen to those voices." Evelyn replies simply, softly. She takes her glasses off and tucks them away in one of her lab coat pockets, looking directly toward Ryn. "What do you want?" She repeats.

That damn question. Ryn already had what she wanted. She was outside of the labs and in her own apartment. She may even have a friend at this point... But she wasn't sure yet. She tried taking a few steps closer to Evelyn, trying to see how different she really was aside from her eyes. Even with the visor she couldn't tell too well.

"I want to know why I was called here." She paused before continuing, but between the aura and her fascination her guard was down, "The Coalition takes care of my wants. They gave me a place to live, food, comfort... And freedom. What could you give me that they haven't? I want to know."

"Freedom, but on a leash, child." Evelyn replies softly. She places her hands behind her back, allowing Ryn to approach and examine her. There was nothing to really be seen that looked odd, and yet, every sense in her mind told her that the person before her was a powerful mutant--more powerful than any she had ever seen in any of The Coalition's laboratories. "You are not free. You are bound by their rules, constricting, or loosening. Enlightening, or censoring. You could be so much more than you are now, but they would never allow it. They would fear it. They fear what they cannot control. I can give you real freedom, real enlightenment. Escape from the spectre of madness that follows you." She offers her hand to Catheryn. "Let me show you."

The power was frightening. It seemed to ripple and crackle off of Evelyn and now Ryn's fear truly morphed into comfortable amazement. She was beyond intrigued and with this proximity she eagerly grasped the outstretched hand, wanting to see if the shock of power she perceived would transfer through physical contact as well, even through her gloves. Cathryn had just been offered the one thing she never refused: knowledge.

Just the mere touch was enough it seemed. Cathryn could feel Evelyn's touch, as though the skin of her hand flooded every inch, every crevice, every pore--the closest touch she has ever felt, immediately beyond that which seemed humanly possible. The whispers came, all at once, but didn't feel overwhelming--rather, comforting. She finally understood them, they asked many questions, conveyed many feelings. "A drop in the rain." The voice in her mind seemed to echo for a moment, and looking into Evelyn's eyes seemed to fall into an eternity. "My kind call me Eve, and you, are now one step closer to finding yourself among our kind."

Evelyn pulls her hand back, slowly, and Cathryn could see Eve's hand reshaping itself in small, subtle ways--back to what it was before. A warm liquid trickled past her mouth, and reaching up, she would find it was blood--her blood, from her nose. It was not painful. Eve speaks once more in her mind. "I cannot share more than that in one session, it would do harm. That is, enough of a gift, however." Behind Cathryn, she could see two figures step out from the shadows--no, feel them. They were still invisible in some ways, but she could see them nonetheless. "I can give you much more, if you help me rescue a friend of mine, before your... Benefactors, catch him."

She was silent. Her head was still spinning with what she had just experienced and she let the blood trickle past her mouth and off of her chin, the small pit pats on the pavement slowly bringing her back to reality. Cathryn looked up at Eve again then at the dancing shadows behind her, and took a few steps forward to try and understand the movements, one hand slowly rising to try and stem the small trickle from her nose.

"Hello...?"

She turned back to look at Eve, her offer finally registering. "I am quite good at finding things that do not wish to be seen. Who is he? Where should I look?" She was already seeking her next high from this woman.

"With us, if you should wish." Eve replies, telepathically. Her voice sounded a little clearer. A little more welcoming. "If you wish to come with us any further, know that you will not be able to change your mind until after the mission is done. It would involve telling you compromising information you could tell The Coalition about, and if you did so... We would all suffer."

The intrigue was wearing off now, even if Evelyn had soothed her to the point of being incapable of panic. Something felt off about her promising not to tell The Coalition about them. If what they were doing was good... If their knowledge was good... Why could she not tell them? Why did The Coalition not like Evelyn and her group? This puzzle made Ryn knit her brows together in thought.

"Why would you suffer if they had the knowledge which you gave me? If the knowledge is so freely given, why should they not have it? Why would they cause any suffering?"

"They seek control. They fear people like me." She replies telepathically. Her tone remains gentle, though her hands slip to her sides from where they were once held behind her back. "I cannot be controlled. Neither can my kind. They would not tolerate our existence. So if they learn of my plans, they will be able to act against me, and in doing so, they will inflict vicious damage to my kind that I would likely be unable to fix."

That didn't sound right. That didn't sound like The Coalition at all. Cathryn shook her head, trying to remove the soothing form her head. It was wrong and she was very confused, but couldn't feel the true worry affect her.

"No, that's not right. They don't do things like that. I don't like this anymore." She started trying to back up, to leave the alley. She didn't intend to go straight to The Coalition. She didn't want to betray Evelyn, she just didn't want to feel this way. It went against her thoughts and made her stomach turn.

Evelyn doesn't stop her, and with a single thought--a feeling--the shadowy figures in the alley go back into hiding, though Ryn could still feel their presence. "I will not stop you from leaving, it is okay. You are free to make your own choices, child."

Cathryn now truly relaxed, and didn't break out into a full run. Instead she ambled out of the alley and started to make her way towards her apartment. That had been more pleasant than she had worried, but now... now she was left with a lot to think about.

Potatocat · Aug 6, 2016

Carter Approaches The Coalition
In collaboration with Brovo

Carter sat along a wall, rifle leaned up against him as he slurped down a bowl of potato soup. Having been forced to come crawling through the Coalition food lines plenty of times before, he had become accustom to allowing the bread ration soak up the soup. It made it more edible. As he finished his meal he noticed a poster leading people to inquire for work with The Coalition.

Finishing his meal, Carter stood up, slung his rifle over his shoulder and began to walk towards the kitchen. On his way past the line he noticed Jenive out of uniform helping to serve food. There was a woman he recognized. He had on more than one occasion seen her face through the scope of his rifle, but never was quite able to land the shot that would end her life. He wondered if she would ever understand the relationship they had developed over the years. The handful of times they had been so very close to killing each other. A smile briefly visited his face as he walked past.

He walked through the kitchen and into the small recruitment room the TC had set up. He set his gear down next to the door, and leaned his rifle against the wall before turning to Adrik Ivanov. The strong smell of cigar smoke assaulting his senses made him a bit uncomfortable.

And in a hoarse voice Carter stated matter-of-factly, "I heard you're looking for men."

Jenive smiles awkwardly back. When he enters the small recruiting room, he hears the telltale sign of a safety switching off. Jenive had a pistol pointed at his head--one she snatched away from a nearby guard, and a stern, disapproving expression on her face. Jenive speaks in a foreign tongue, it was coarse, not of the continent. It seemed she was speaking to the recruiter, who sat on his chair across the table. It seemed she struggled with the language, as the man chuckles and corrects her before motioning for her to calm down. Jenive lowers the pistol, and hands it back to the guard. The recruiter, on the other hand, finally speaks in English. "It seems she remembers you from somewhere. Can't remember specifically where, but enough to be worried about you... Speaks volumes." His tone held a heavy accent. "She was worried for me, it was cute, no? Close the door behind you, sit, we talk now." He puffs on his cigar, entertained with the situation, though his eyes watched Carter's every move like a predator. "My name is Adrik Ivanov. Yours?"

Carter twitched slightly, feeling an imagined pressure of a gun to the back of his head. He absolutely despised such situations. All he could think of doing was reaching for his knife and putting it through Jenive's throat, but he was in no position to fulfill his desire. Even if he could murder her before she put a bullet in his head, there were other guards and the man at the table would no doubt be hesitant to hire a man who just killed The Coalition's poster child.

After Jenive had lowered the gun, Carter did as asked. He closed the door and sat down across the table from Adrik. "Carter" he answered, his voice still hoarse and harsh.

"So you want a job." Adrik replies as he puffs on his cigar. "I have some cleaning duty for you, but I think you think yourself more talented. Tell me why I should hire you, comrade. Why does Jenive fear you."

Carter glances back at the large rifle leaned against the wall, "I would like to believe that I have plenty to offer, especially where the paramilitary aspects of your organization come in." he paused for a moment, his face twisting with thought before he said with a snap,"Well, hell. If you need references I'm sure that your girl can provide examples of my work, if she thought about it long enough."

"I'm sure she would tell me many things. Women always do."He blows smoke from his cigar at Carter, and as it clears, the look in his eyes was cold. Almost predatory, evaluating every movement on his face. "I don't care if your answer is moralistic or efficient, comrade. I simply need to see what kind of a man you are."

Carter's posture relaxed slightly as he realized that Adrik seemed to want to cut through the bullshit just as much as he did. "Let me just put it all out there. I am a sniper, with years of experience. I have successfully taken part in operations ranging from covert assassinations to full blown raids." He took a short pause, thinking of how to continue."Simply put Mister Ivanov, I'm a killer. A pretty damn good one at that. You need a political rival removed, supply convoy destroyed, or pretty much anything that requires the skills of a long range marksman? I can do that."

"Good." Adrik replies bluntly as he puts out his cigar. It seemed the conversation was taking a darker, yet less severe tone. "If you tried to avoid the question again I would know you a serpent. We here at The Coalition know better than to let serpents near hens... But, being as honest as you are? More like the wolf. Dangerous, but, as all things, has purpose." He leans his elbows on the table, leisurely. It seems he has been through this type of speech many times."If you want the job, it is standard non-disclosure. You work for us for a mission, you stay with us. You do your job well and obey orders, we pay you in favours. Equipment, money, whatever you like. You tell anyone else before the mission is over, we shoot you in the head. Just like a wolf, there are many others like you, just hungrier. Understand?"

"You make yourself perfectly clear Mr. Ivanov." Carter replied, noticeably relieved. "Now a few questions for you. How will I be informed of my missions, and who would I be reporting to?"

Ivanov raises an eyebrow. "Myself, or your superior officer. To both questions." He glances over Carter and sighs as he shakes his head. Nonetheless, he continues. "We found a target. One of the figures from the fog is hurt, and isolated. It is holed up in a building alone. We are going in this evening to extract this one--alive. We expect resistance from U-ARM, perhaps even others from the fog if they should show to save their ally, though they haven't as of yet. That is where your services come in, most obviously. You'll cover our men while they extract the entity. Meet us at 1800 hours, right at the bunker entrance. We'll be waiting for you, Carter. Don't be late."

"Understood. I'll be there." Carter replied as he stood up to leave. Feeling that there was nothing more to be said, Carter left. As he gathered gear he had dropped by the door, he set the alarm on his watch for 1700.

Grothnor · Aug 7, 2016

A Matter of Faith
A collab with @Brovo

The Bunker's atmosphere had changed over the few weeks. People had started carrying themselves differently, more guarded and watchful. They had started to remind him of the people in the countless small towns he'd passed through before. However, where the townsfolk were often quiet from already knowing everything about everyone else, the Bunker's inhabitants were still talking, albeit quietly. Ozzy, looking for clues concerning the Children, drifting through the susurrous circles of the Foreigner's District, and encountered an interesting morsel. Apparently, one of his comrades from the Bosho incident was a religious man. The fact that he lived nearby meant that he could easily afford some time to talk, and the other rumors surrounding him meant that he couldn't afford not to. Ozzy entered the common prayer room quietly, so as not to disturb Morai's meditation. He sat down a respectful distance away, but close enough to hold a conversation. Unwilling to interrupt, he waited for Morai to acknowledge his presence.

As Ozzy entered, he would notice that one of Morai's hands had silently rested upon his shotgun beside him. When Ozzy sat down and waited, he would see the man slowly raise his head until he was looking at the ceiling, then take a deep breath. The light of the candles reflected off of the few glistening beads of sweat on his face, as he turns and looks at Ozzy. He seems momentarily surprised, then turns to face him. He remains seated, his legs crossed. The red glow of the candles is the only thing to dimly light his weary looking face. "What do you seek?"

Ozzy made no move for his weapons, save to unsling his laser rifle and lay it at his feet. "Conversation," he replied softly. "This city fascinates me. Mankind rebuilding itself in the graves of it's ancestors. People, just so many people. Where I come from, there were hardly more than three dozen people together at any time. Here, there's a sense of business, a sense of purpose. I wonder if I might call this place home one day. What about you? Is there anyplace you call home?"

"My home is dead." Morai replies bluntly. "I will build a new one, when the time is right." His hand on his shotgun runs across a few scratch marks on it. Perhaps he once used to record his kills, or it was some sort of battle damage. He pauses, quiet for a few moments. His hard look softens a little. "What do you want from home?"

"A place where men may live unfettered by their past sins." Ozzy said without hesitation. "I left my home and my family; there was no future to be had among them. So I found a new home, but that one was only transitory. When I could stay there no longer, I left to wander the wastes, searching for a new home. I hope that one day, this place may live up to my ideal. But so long as threats like U-ARM and the Orange Fog loom on the horizon, I cannot call this place home."

"Even with those gone, there yet is The Coalition. The Old Guard, too. Always someone to rule over this place. Never foreigners. Never outsiders." One of the candles illuminating his face flickers and dies out. He frowns, but continues, as the scent of incense wafts through the room. "The most favourable of those choices, The Old Guard... They are a dying breed. They will pass. When that happens, I will doubtlessly soon after leave." He finally takes his hand away from the shotgun, and places both of his hands on his lap as he leans forward. Asking his next question, his tone remains calm, and peaceful. "What would you be willing to do, to get your home?"

"Whatever it takes," Ozzy said quietly but with conviction.

"Like?" Morai replies, seeming to want something more specific. Ozzy would realize it was some sort of test.

Ozzy sighed, recognizing the test for what it was. The time for veiled words and implied meanings was over. "The Fog People are my sworn foes. I will slaughter them to the last, without mercy or respite." He spoke almost disturbingly calmly. "U-ARM are deluded fools who in their search for freedom have enslaved themselves to dead Gods. I feel no sympathy for them. As for the Coalition and the Old Guard, I couldn't care less which ends up ruling this place. The Coalition will share glory as readily as they will share Bunker Chicago, and the Old Guard, well, like you said." He sniffed derisively, "Never outsiders."

With a sigh and a nod of his head, Morai slowly reaches his feet. He walks over to a small shrine a few feet from where he sat, and gently tips it over. He then taps the bottom, and a secret compartment is unveiled. Inside, is a medal with a red star, and a slip of paper. He grabs the paper and walks back to Ozzy, kneeling in front of him so he can look the man eye to eye. There, Ozzy could see the telltale signs in Morai's eyes of drug withdrawal. "Take this. Meet me here this evening. We will be moving out with The Old Guard. We're going on a rescue mission, to prevent both The Old Guard and The Coalition from taking and interrogating an innocent man. We will enter as Old Guard, and leave as something else." On the paper is a frequency, along with a code name: Omega. "We move in shadows, so those in the light need not fear the monsters within. Your new name is Omega, and mine is Red Dragon. If you help us, you will meet more of us. If you choose not to join us, so long as you do not try to reveal us, we will leave you alone. Understand?"

Ozzy was quite amused by this turn of events. Talk of innocence in this age made him smirk inwardly. His codename he found oddly fitting: The last witness to the King of Kings. Most amusing was that he had little clue as to the ultimate goals of his new allies, or even their nature. Trusting them will have to be a matter of faith....

"Understood." He said, pocketing the paper, straight faced. "Just one question: to what end?"

Morai steps back to the shrine, and gently puts it back in its place. It seemed in spite of his now shaking hands, he had a sufficient reverence for it to treat it well. The foreigner paused, appearing to be uncertain as to whether he should reply. Yet, he turns and looks at Ozzy, and nods understandingly. "I am part of a paramilitary organization known as the Red Star... We come from a land known as Zhōngguó. (China.) We have come here to escape an overwhelming number of raiders and cultists from our homeland. We are retrofitting a port on the West Coast to be ready to take in our people, but in order to finish retrofitting it, we need certain resources only civilization can provide."

He motions around the room, toward the rest of Bunker Chicago. "We have a fleet of about fifteen ships, overflowing with people. We have about six months of supplies left. When those run out, they will die. My surviving family ranks among those people. If, however, the port is retrofitted in time? We will be able to take them in, start a new colony. Create a new civilization, from the ashes of the old. We can do all of this without destroying this colony, but The Coalition would never work with us. They would never accept another threat to their power appearing. The Old Guard would never approve of us diverting resources away. U-ARM would never approve of our way of life. So we must work within the shadows, divert resources... Do whatever we can, until we have everything we need. Then, we will leave this place alone."

He kneels back down into a meditative position, beside his shotgun. "As for the specifics, you will have to earn that. That is all."

Ozzy was honestly surprised, not just because there was a faction unconcerned with conquest, but because the revelation that people came from across the seas put things into a far grander perspective, one that filled him with awe. I'd say our meeting was destiny, if I believed in it. The chance to etch my name into the hearts and minds of an entire new civilization is too great an opportunity to pass up. Ozzy nodded. "You have noble goals. I will be at the appointed place... Red Dragon."

Morai nods, and bows his head. He closes his eyes, and continues with his inner struggles, as sweat rolls down from his forehead. He says nothing more.

Ozzy left silently, picking up his laser rifle and leaving with a renewed sense of purpose and a smile on his face.

Firemind · Aug 10, 2016

Kiku and Jenive - Stories in the Soup Kitchen
(feat @Brovo as Jenive)

After her time at the Machine Shops were done, Kiku decided to make good on her promise to Marie. She had said she'd visit the Coalition's Soup Kitchens, and by gods she meant it. The journey didn't take long, and it wasn't hard to find the Food Line because of the literal length of it. There were a lot of hungry people; and seeing so many who couldn't always feed themselves get some help was a small comfort.

She tried to push through to the Food-Line itself; not much interested in the posters or the guards and not having any visible weapons on her person, except a small knife. She stood at the doorway, barred by the guards. She shouted over to Jenive, waving at the woman with a big, dumb smile on her face. "Hi there, don't think we've talked a lot. I'm Kiku, from the last mission. You're Jenive right? The jetpack lady?" She said, as she looked over the crowd of people; smiling at the sight of a family of three, including a child, who were all cradling bowls of soup and bread.

Jenive stops in her tracks, glancing over the crowd. Without hesitation her face lights up with happiness at the sight of one of her allies."YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME?!" Jenive speaks excitedly, before motioning the two guards at the door. "Let her in!" The guards comply, allowing Kiku inside if she wished.

Kiku nods at the two guards as they let her in, feeling her skin colour shift hues just the tinniest bit from a one shade of cream to a slightly darker complexion. She half-skipped to stand next to Jenive, continuing to look over the line with a face that screamed awe. "This place is amazing. I've never seen such an oragnised line; and so many people getting fed! It's brilliant!" She said, as much to herself as to Jenive. "I can't believe that The Coalition has places like this. I'm more used to the Nerd huts where they deal the mutation stuff, and with the techy things." She paused for a second to soak in the organised chaos, before turning to Jenive. "This place is great. You must have to bust your butt to get this many people fed and stuff!"

"Yeah, well, I'm mostly just overseeing things today." A crash sounds from the kitchen, and Jenive runs over to look inside. Someone had accidentally dumped a basket of potatoes on the floor. Sighing, she motions for Kiku to follow, then kneels and starts picking up the potatoes with the person who had dumped them. She pats the boy on his shoulder, and smiles warmly. He blushes and focuses on putting away potatoes--he couldn't have been older than fourteen. "We feed as many as we can, whenever we can. Share when you have stuff to share, you know?" Jenive says softly, as she looks back up at Kiku. "So what are you doing here? I heard you got a job with The Old Guard. Didn't think you'd want to slum it out here with me."

Kiku followed as she was beckoned, observing Jenive as she consoled the kid, who was barely older than she'd been when she arrived at the bunker. She nodded in agreement at the sentiments Jenive had to offer; she appreciated the idea of someone helping just for the sake of it. "Sounds nice."

When Jenive mentioned her job with the Old Guard, Kiku nervously laughed, reaching up and twirling a strand of her messy hair in one finger. "Well, it's more I took a job with Marie. I don't care about most of the Old Guard; mostly just her and a few of the nicer ones." She said, thinking of the few friendly faces she knew from the Old Guard. "Besides, nothing in the contract says I can just…like…talk with people. Y'know? You kinda stood out on the mission: you wanted to helping people, you've got that jetpack thingy, you're cute, and you were one of the only people brave enough to speak up when you disagreed with the boss." She said, before pausing. "With Carolyn. Sorry, I use nicknames a lot." She laughed, the nerves melting from her as she talked the tension away. "So fuck it, why not slum it out with a cutie with a big heart?"

"Cutie with a big heart, huh?" Jenive mutters aloud, shaking her head with a sad smile. "Sorry cupcake, I don't swing that way. N-not that we can't be friends, obviously! I mean..." She sighs and scratches back of her head as she finishes putting the potatoes back in the basket, letting the kid go with it. "Don't even think I've met someone like you before if I'm being honest. That skin changing power of yours is really something. Did The Coalition help you cook that up?"

Kiku shrugs as Jenive shoots down her minor advances. "So look, but don't touch. Got it." She said, winking at the woman to show there were no hard feelings as she stumbled over her words a little. She didn't mind the change of subject, and even puffed out her chest when she was asked about her powers. "Technically, I don't just change my skin. Apparently it is something to do with how light works around me, or something. I dunno. It's a bit too technical for me. The skin changing colour is just a weird side effect. It does it when I'm not thinking about it and stuff, as well as when I want." She said, shrugging off her gaps in knowledge as if they weren't important. "But the eggheads - The Coalition docs, even - they helped me with my mutations. It hurt sometimes, and sometimes the tests are a little embarrassing, but it's worth it when you can do stuff like this." She said, as she flared up her Listener quirk and let herself fade from sight completely. She walked around the back of Jenive, silently padding behind her until she broke her cover, and her concentration on her quirk, by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into a hug. "So I gotta ask; why'd you leave the Old Guard? What did the Coalition offer?"

Jenive pauses, appearing to marvel at Kiku's powers, before her expression--unseen by Kiku--turns momentarily grave with her last question. "I didn't leave The Old Guard. I was kicked out." She replies as some of the commotion in the kitchen dies down. Jenive closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, before continuing to speak. "I wanted The Old Guard and The Coalition to consolidate together. So I joined The Coalition when they came here... I was one of the people who convinced The Old Guard to let The Coalition set up here. Before long, The Coalition needed concessions from The Old Guard that the latter refused to give the former. When I refused to leave The Coalition, I was removed from The Old Guard by Carolyn's Dad--I was accused of being a traitor because one of The Old Guard's grain convoys was ambushed, and almost didn't make it. The Coalition had failed to properly encrypt its communications and some of Bosho's Raiders keyed in... My husband was among the casualties, but that didn't seem to matter. It only mattered which side I chose. I chose the side that didn't ask me to choose." As she gently breaks the hug, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a ring. It was a dull, silver coated steel ring. "I chose the side that gave me a home when my old home thought I didn't belong there anymore."

Kiku's normal chipper smile dulled as she heard Jenive's change in tone. Whereas before she'd been basking in the amusement and awe on Jenive's face, hearing the sad and, ultimately, cruel story of the Old Guard's harsh dismissal of Jenive was enough to get Kiku's attention and to pluck at her heart strings. She frowned at the sight of the dull, silver ring. She suddenly felt the weight on her necklace, which bore her deceased mother's ring, grow ten times heavier in a moment of empathetic understanding. The young girl reached out and grabbed Jenive's hand, squeezing it gently. "I...had no idea. I wouldn't have asked otherwise." She said, fully aware of how painfully useless her words probably sounded. "Another life ruined by those raiders fucks that we're never gunna get proper revenge for..." She said, almost more to herself than to Jenive. The sting of losing out on revenge against Bosho poked at her conciousness again, a prickle of annoyance and anger and...darker emotions that demanded some distraction...Any distraction.

She looked around the kitchen, noticing how it had gotten quieter; almost as a response to Jenive's sadness. "I...I might not be on your side directly; certainly not under your paycheck, but..." She grimmaced, realising how bad it felt to be aligning with the Old Guard in the face of their seeming betrayal of Jenive. "...But we'll look out for each other, right? Maybe that stuffy prick Devin isn't willing to work with The Coalition, but some of the Old Guard is; at least." She said, squeezing Jenive's hand again as she smiled from behind the woman; putting her forehead on the woman's back to try and offer some assurance.

"Right." Jenive replies quietly, a small, pained smile on her face. She then looks around at the kitchen, seeing that everyone had stopped working. The fourteen year old from earlier was blushing, as he clears his throat. "Y-y-you know you guys c-c-can kiss and s-stuff I think everyone would b--" Jenive bursts out laughing and shakes her head. "No, all of you should get back to work now. Banish those thoughts away." The kitchen staff does as commanded, with Jenive patting Kiku on the shoulder. "We'll see how things work out, out there."

Kiku looked over at the fourteen year old boy, and laughed out loud at his response, much like Jenive did. The tension that had been building suddenly simmered away in the face of teenage misunderstanding, and Kiku found herself wiping a tear away from her eyes as she felt Jenive's hand on her shoulder. "Wow, I didn't think I'd come here and cause such a hassle." She said, smiling as she pat Jenive's hand on her shoulder. After a moment, she stepped back, edging towards the exit. "Well, I'll get out of your hair; wouldn't want me distracting your helpers anymore." She said, her chipper smile back. "I'll see you soon, Jenive. And I mean it, I'll be sure to watch your back out there; how else am I gunna get the chance to stare at your butt?" She chuckled, looking over at the fourteen year old and winking at him, so as to tease him some more.

The fourteen year old stares for a moment, his cheeks flushing a bright pinkish-red before he turns away and tries to focus on his work. Jenive casually waves Kiku goodbye, before tapping on a wrist communicator to let the guards know that Kiku was leaving.

Kiku exits past the guards with a skip in her step. Yet as she got further and further away, a stone in her stomach started to grow and fester and push against her stomach, like a tumour. She suddenly felt dirty about being on the Old Guard's side, and about the fact that she was almost certainly going to have to betray Jenive by the end of the next mission. She thought about how quickly she'd signed herself away, and suddenly felt annoyed at herself, and at Devin, and even a little at Marie – although that melted away quickly enough. Mostly, she was annoyed that she was in such a shitty situation. It didn't feel good to have to choose between friends.

She kicked a pebble that happened to be underfoot, and set off into the Chicago bunker, looking for something else to distract her over-busy mind.

DeadAxl · Aug 13, 2016

Just outside of the food centre, a tall and gaunt man with most of his face obscured by a rebreather was conversing with the lightly armed guards. He convinced them to let him in after a few minutes of back and forth, mentioning his desire to join the Coalition. After entering the "building", he made his way past the kitchen. He of course already had a meal earlier, so had no interest in the possibly dangerous (at least to him, anyway) food. A few chefs on the inside gave him some confused looks as he passes by, though he either pays them no mind or doesn't notice them. Upon reaching the "recruitment centre" inside the building, he observes the door for a few seconds, before knocking on the surface of it. His armour whirs softly with the movement, the servos inside assisting with the movement.

The door opens with a creak as he knocks on it, as it hadn't been shut properly. Inside, there is a single lightbulb illuminating the room. One small table, and two chairs are the only furniture to be found, with one man sitting upon the chair on the side of the table opposite that of the door. "Strange, I was not expecting anyone else." The man speaks, as he wears casual clothes, but keeps his side arm on. A side arm which, at a casual glance, the grunt could discern had a level of technological sophistication beyond that of any common man. "Sit." The man motions to the open chair. "Who are you?" Judging from the man's accent, it was clear he was a foreigner. Somewhere from Europe, an accent that the more educated would consider slavic.

When he sees that the door was open, and the sole occupant had invited him farther in, Russell enters the dimly lit room. He takes the seat offered to him, the soft whirring of the servos in his armour more audible in the confines of the small room. The sound of his breathing is amplified by the rebreather that covered half his face, and adds a slight reverb to his voice when he answers the question. "I am Russell. I wish to join the Coalition and offer my services as a Grunt." His eyes are surprisingly animated, despite the bags under them. Currently they display a determination of purpose, as if this meeting were a step on the way to his ultimate goal, whatever that may be.

"Do you now?" Adrik seems amused as he smokes his cigar. He out some smoke toward the light bulb, before looking the man eye to eye. Adrik's eyes were cold, and piercing. Whether or not he could read the man's face accurately given his condition, Adrik seemed determined to try nonetheless. "Tell me why I should hire you for the front line, and not as a janitor."

Russell doesn't back down, meeting Andrik's gaze with a determination rarely seen in a dying man. Without breaking eye contact, he answers, his voice still somewhat filtered by the device making his face. "Let alone the fact that making a sick man play with bacteria is rather amusingly ironic and a waste of resources, I would be much more useful than many other soldiers with my skillset if placed on the front line, even despite my ills." He leans forward, placing his arm on the desk. Even from a distance, a particularly skilled eye can see the quality of the armour, and the fact that his servos don't whine and groan with the movement attests to his skill at maintenance. "While I cannot prove my martial prowess to you directly, I can inform you what I am proficient in using." He leaves this out as bait to see if the man is willing to hear specifics.

"No, that is enough for now." Adrik replies, his eyes darting toward the servos as they moved. There seemed to be a moment of clarity, and amusement. As though he were looking at something quaint, but passably interesting. "If you want work, we have a few places to fill out for an operation tonight. Naturally, before I can proceed, I must inform you that if you should speak of this operation to anyone else before the operation is completed, that is treachery. Not a pleasant accusation, I'm sure you can imagine. Do you understand, or need I spell it out for you?" It seemed Adrik was intentionally goading the man, reading him and seeing how he would react. Much like a predator studying their prey, looking for what they do when they hear the snap of a branch.

Russell doesn't offer the man a single inch. "I am well aware, and I can assure you that my loyalty to the Coalition is absolute." He states this as if he is absolutely sure of it, and willing to fully accept the consequenses of such a statement. "There is no other faction that I would rather ally myself with."

He leans back, returning to his original position, before heaving a sigh. "I can imagine that in times such as these, loyalty is a rare commodity that is somewhat difficult to come by. But if there is one thing that isn't malfunctioning in my sickly body, it would be my loyalty."

Adrik flicks a few ashes off the end of his cigar, his look remaining severe as he keeps the cigar out of his mouth long enough to speak clearly. "I'm sure you've heard of the mutants of the fog. One of them has gone outside its little realm of fog... Gotten itself trapped, after fighting some U-ARM fools... We're going in tonight to take it. Alive. We're likely going to be involved in combat, so take your weapons, and wits, and meet us out in front of the bunker at 1800 hours. You'll learn more over time as it becomes relevant. Simple as that."

The armoured man offers a nod, before slowly rising to his feet. "Understood. I will bring all that I can to bear. Until then, I wish you luck on your endeavors." He offers his hand to shake once he finishes speaking, his eyes stern, yet friendly.

Adrik hesitates, then shakes his hand. Firmly. He squeezes the man's hand, then lets go of it, looking him eye to eye as he does so. "Go. We will see what you are made of soon enough."

HerziQuerzi · Aug 14, 2016

Shlan Fletcher

"-miss you all, of course. Once this is all over and done with I'll head out there in person. Past time I did, yeah? Love."

Shlan let the video roll to a stop for the sixth time, debating once more whether to record a new one. Each time she listened to it it sounded in turn both too casual and too formal, too cold and too emotional. It'd been a long time since she'd sent a message back to her family in Bunker Toronto, making due with gifts or money for people's birthdays. Reminders that she was still kicking and doing well without the struggle of putting thoughts into words.

With the threat of the fog now looming, however, it seemed time to bite the bullet. Her parents had always been one part baffled and three parts worried that the daughter they taught to run and hide from danger during their years in the wilds had turned to mercenary work, but upgrading from guarding caravans to fighting mutant cults was three great leaps away from what they'd be comfortable with her doing.

Sighing, Shlan hit save and nervously waited for the progress bar to turn green before removing the USB drive. Exiting the recording booth, Shlan made her way over to the desk of the broadcasting centre. With the morning air still crisp, she hadn't expected there to be many other customers, but apparently she wasn't the only one pushed to reach out to family or friends by the recent going-ons. It was another few minutes of waiting and fidgeting before she reached the front of the line, the constant noise and movement caused by so many people putting her even further on edge.

"Bunker Toronto," she intoned to the attendant, holding out the USB drive. "Fletcher family, Coxwell Avenue. Whenever the next packet is being sent out." As per usual, her anxiety never made the trip from mind to voice, though it did manifest in a finger tapping steadily on the drive.

"Of course." The attendant grabs the USB Drive and gives it a quick look over. "We will of course conduct a standard scan to ensure no malicious software is contained within. Let me check your account to determine fees..." The attendant pulls up files on his personal computer, then blinks in confusion. She then shrugs and smiles politely. "Fees have already been duly paid for the next several messages, courtesy of your services already rendered earlier. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"Do you have a collection of news from Bunker Toronto, or TC in general? Text, audio, video - media type doesn't matter. Past month or two. Boring and mundane is fine, I'm just out of touch."

"There isn't much to say really. You would be better off going to the rumour mongers in bars--TC doesn't report much, they say it's a waste of resources." The clerk replies with a shrug, as she pockets the USB Key. They had a back room for server transfers and security. She was likely going to take it there. "Biggest thing I can think of is convoys of military equipment have expediated here, and food shipments out to other colonies have grown too. Some say we wouldn't even have the food lines if we just kept all the stuff we grew... But eh'... You didn't hear that from me. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"No, that's it. Thanks."

Outside the broadcast centre, Shlan laced her fingers above her head and stretched, taking in the cold air. It wasn't too far a walk to her second errand of the day, and she took it at a brisk pace, hoping to get off the streets sooner rather than later. Along the side streets the people were less crowded than inside the broadcast centre, less noisy this early in the morning, but she was still eager to get out of public space. Somewhere with only a few people around at most, where she could try and find some mental peace.

That was the problem when jobs went as poorly as the one the previous week had; she didn't get enough time outside the Bunker to reset her sense of claustrophobia. The never ending movement of people continued to press down on her just as much as they had for the past few weeks, crushing her.

Eventually, she reached the TC food line, here the crowds thicker than before as people gathered to get a simple, filling breakfast. Thankful that she wouldn't have to deal with the main throng, Shlan headed around to the back of the building, where a handful of guards stood around the back entrance and loading doors. She raised a hand in greeting as she approached, glad she had dressed in nonthreatening civvies. "Is Adrik here? If he is, he said he'd have work for me."

Two of the guards by the door look at each other, one nodding as he taps his helmet and requests information. A few moments pause, before the guard nods again, having received his instructions. He opens the door and motions inside. "Take your first right, walk into the small room. Adrik will be waiting for you." Stepping inside, she would see Jenive keeping watch over the organization. Though Jenive waves to her briefly, she seems rather overwhelmed by the commotion at that point in time. Turning right, she would see a door to a room already open and waiting for her. Inside, the room was barren, save for a single lightbulb, two chairs, and a small table which only held an ash tray upon it. Adrik was sitting there, having finished with a cigar only a few moments ago it seemed, yet he was lighting another. "You want work? Come in and close the door behind you."

Doing as he asked, Shlan shut the door and made her way over to the spare chair. "Nice office," she remarked dryly, "this is what, three times as much furniture as your last one? Where does the excess end?" She held out her hand to shake before sitting down opposite Adrik. "So, what do you have for me?"

Adrik doesn't shake it, merely looking at her hand and taking the cigar out of his mouth long enough to blow smoke at it. It seemed he didn't overly care for the friendliness. "I have more work relating to the mutants from the fog. Won't involve you going into the fog itself, but we might be able to learn something more. Naturally, before I tell you more, you must acknowledge the realization that working for us on the front line is no small thing. You work with us now, you say nothing to anyone else until the operation is done. Understand?"

"Definitely," Shlan answered, settling into her chair and wiping her hand on her pants. A pointless act, since smoke wasn't something to stick in the first place, but the compulsion was still there. "Can't say I'm disappointed that the fog won't be involved. Shouldn't be involved, at least. Shit can always go wrong in unexpected ways." Shlan resisted the urge to glance back at the door, the room's decor uncomfortably reminding her of the last time she talked with Adrik. Were the guards loitering near the back door once more given orders to shoot those who answered poorly? A worrying possibility, and certainly not one she'd put past the hard man sitting across from her.

"Alright. It is a simple mission." Adrik starts, as he sticks the cigar back in his mouse and takes his sweet time continuing to speak. He almost seemed to enjoy her nervousness. "You and others working for The Coalition will move in to capture a lone entity from the fog. It was ambushed by U-ARM forces. It defeated them, but appeared injured as it fled and went into hiding inside a structure we've been keeping watch of. We're going to move in, capture it, and leave. Simple as that." He puts his cigar out on the table. "Naturally U-ARM will get in our way. There has been no sight or sound from the entities of the fog, but that doesn't mean things will stay that way. Meet us out in front of the bunker entrance at 1800 hours. That is when the operation begins. Simple, no?"

"Simple, yeah." Shlan shifted in her seat, ready to push herself to her feet. "Anything else I should know before I go? Or just bunker entrance, 6pm, I'll get details then?"

Adrik narrows his eyes. "That is all you need to know for now. More will be said as is deemed necessary. That is all."

Pahn · Aug 14, 2016

Checking Out Boxes
A Collab feat. Box Copter, Mouse, Carolyn, Devin (@Brovo)

Box Copter spent the next 3 days alone in her dusty apartment, sleeping and having nightmares on top of nightmares. She purposely ate little food, let herself become physically weak, just to have an excuse to stay inside. On the fourth day, she snapped back to reality. Her mind had finally processed everything she had been through in her last mission. She still had to make a somewhat conscious effort to avoid thinking about it too much.

Struggling to even stand, Box makes her way to her cupboards and tears at her packed rations. Dried meat, nuts. She downs a bottle of water and has to keep her mouth covered with her hand to avoid puking it all out. The tall woman lets herself slip to the ground, her knees up against her chest as she just sits silently against the wall. Waiting for the food to make its way to her stomach, Box lets an unavoidable feeling of self-pity engulf her mind for a few moments. She doesn't fight the shame as it settles in, the shame of having left behind men and women to die in the Fog. Shame of having suggested to Convict to kill those gangbangers. Shame of having lost her shit at the single mention of her brother, Colt. Shame at displaying so much weakness in front of so many people... Wren and Jane would not be proud of her for those moments.

Box wipes a solitary tear from her cheek and breathes deeply. She stays sitting there for another hour before getting back up and starts running a shower. Her heart heavy, she remains under the lukewarm water until it runs out cold. As she gets out, she grabs a few more bites of food. "Let's do this..." Box mumbles under her breath. Not like anyone can hear her. Or at least, she hopes.

She puts on simple cargo pants and pulls a belt around her waist to keep them high enough. She never needed to wear a bra, so she brings a simple brown button-up shirt over her shoulders and tucks it in her pants. Instead of going for heavy boots, she grabs her leather boots - they proved to be rather silent, and she didn't really want to attract attention to herself today. Before leaving her apartment, she grabs one of her pistols and slides it in a holster at her hip. Her waist-long army-like jacket hides it reasonably well. By precaution, she also slips a dagger in its sheath and hides it in her boot. By habit, she plugs her earpiece communicator. Before she leaves, she runs her fingers across the soft fabric of her beanie, and shoves it unceremoniously on her head.

The black woman locks her apartment on her way out and instantly meets with some of her neighbours, Larrison. He was known to be the gossip machine of their neighbourhood, but he was a gentle man with a kind heart. He had helped Box out a few times when she had been low on food, and he was also a retired member of the Old Guard.

"Copter me good boy! Thought ye had died in there, was 'bout to go check on yer meself!" Larrison taps her upper arm almost affectionately. Box doesn't correct him about boy, as the elderly man never really inquired if she really was a man. "Don' suppose ye heard 'bout all that nonsense with the Coalition? Bringing more men in from the outside, hmpf!" He grumbles and shakes his head. Box just smiles and shrugs. "Ye, all 'em muties gettin' a rough time out there Copter, ye should check it out. I know yer old man taught ye his medic tricks 'n all, they be gettin' a beatin' more often than not these last few days. What has the world come to eh?"

"Thanks Larrison sir, I'll be sure to check out for anyone needs a little fixin' up." Box nods and hurries out the apartment complex as Larrison shouts to her, "Good luck Copter!"

Keeping in mind that she might find hurt listeners, Box begins to regret not bringing her backpack with her medical equipment.

She walks through the streets of Chicago, her feet seemingly knowing more than her where she was heading out to. As she gets closer to the Old Guard area, Box realizes who she's looking for: Mouse. The man who possessed all kinds of information. If her interrogation had taught her anything, it was that she was not the only one of shameful things she preferred to remain buried in the past.

She reaches for the earpiece and fiddles with it until she finds the right frequency. "Uhm... hello, this is Box Copter, looking for Mouse?"

There's a few seconds of silence, and static, followed up with a voice. A rather weak sounding voice, at that. "Hey, hey, hey! You're one of those folks who pulled out alive with Carolyn huh? What can I do for you, honey?"

Box can't hide her surprise when Mouse answers her inquiry. "Y-yeah, it was a close one. I uh... I want to talk to you 'bout somethin', preferably uh... off air. There are some people I wouldn't want hearin' this."

"Yeah, yeah..." In the background, Box can hear some shuffling of paper, and the creak of a chair. "Uh, you can just swing by my place. I'll leave the door unlocked for you. It's the shitty rundown shack, a couple blocks north of Carolyn's machine shop--you can't miss it, trust me. It's the shittiest little thing you've ever seen."

"Thanks, I really appreciate, Mouse."

As she is already in the Old Guard shop area, she keeps walking for a few minutes until she reaches the most rundown place she's ever seen in the bunker. Even goddamn teenagers wouldn't even think of rampaging this place... and it all made sense to Box now. She reaches the front door, which barely hangs from its hinges, and give it two short knocks.

As she knocks on it, the cheap door swings open, and reveals little more than a steel door embedded in the floor, and a camera on the back wall--which zooms in on her as the door opens. "Oh good, you came alone." The door opens, implying a lot of electronics and an independent power source. It reveals a set of stairs which go about twenty feet into the ground, followed by a table at the bottom, and another door. "Leave your weapons and other such stuff there. I can't take any chances, no offense."

"Of course..." Box removes her gun from her holster and places it inside the shack, in a shadowy spot so no passerby catches a glimpse of it. Not being a complete fool either, she keeps her dagger hidden in her leather boot - its sheath hidden regardless. Box goes down the stairs carefully, her eyes adjusting to the difference in lighting. "As you surely know, I'm kind of more the loner type, Mouse. Is your info that out of date?" She chuckles as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"I keep information, doesn't mean I memorize it. I'm not a computer." He replies, with snark in his tone of voice. The steel door closes behind her as she descends the stairs. The door at the bottom of the stairs opens, and reveals small cave--partially natural, partially excavated. Further inside are simple metal grates for flooring, with flattened ramps. There was one other passage, presumably a secondary exit, leading somewhere that nobody else would know about. Mouse himself sat in his wheelchair--he was a small, frail looking young man. "The door has a metal detector in it. If I were you, hiding any other weapons like lots of other jerks do, I'd uh, I'd put those away on the table beside you. I don't wanna hurt a girl now." Behind him was a half a dozen monitors of various sizes, and multiple boxes--servers, firewalls, numerous confusing pieces of hardware beyond a casual understanding. It was clear he had a great deal of control from where he was.

"Sorry, force of habit." Reluctantly, Box removes her hidden dagger and places it gently on the table, along with her communicator. She passes through the door without a sound. She looks around briefly, somewhat fascinated by everything, but quickly refocuses back on Mouse. She takes note of his condition and smiles a bit more warmly at him. "But some girls like the hurt, my dear. " Box teases back, and hides her surprise about his knowledge of her gender.

Noticing the lack of chairs, Box walked up in front of Mouse and sat crossed-legged on the floor. "I ain't gonna pass by five different roads. I need some information about... someone. In exchange, I can find out any information you might find interesting. Or share some secrets about things like TC that I may or may not know." She takes a deep breath and laughs nervously, scratching her chin. "Okay okay, I'm new at this. Sorry."

"Look I already know most of what you think I don't know. Trust me on that." He scratches the back of his head. He seemed rather nervous and awkward with her. "Look I ain't gonna know the price tag till you tell me what you're lookin' for. Some things are harder than others to find you know."

Box tries not to frown at the man's nervous body language. Surely he didn't see her as a threat... "You're right, sorry sir." She clears her throat and sighs, changing position and bringing her knees to her chest before wrapping her arms around them. She rests her chin on her knees, looking past Mouse into the air beside him. "I had... have a brother, Colt Copter. I just want to... to have peace, you know? I would like to know if he is still alive, and if so, where he is. If he's dead, well, that's that. We were taken in by the Coalition a bit less than 20 years ago, and I haven't seen him in 13 years."

Box looks back at Mouse and tries a gentle smile. "In exchange, I can either owe you a favour, or anything else you'd like. I could be your... Your eyes out there. If that's something you'd be interested in."

The paranoid look in his eyes mellows as she speaks of her sibling. Mouse turns to his computer, and after inputting a few search terms and commands, a few files pop up. He opens one, and scratches his chin as he reads it over. It is a personnel file, though with a "picture pending" field displaying followed by text. "Well, well, well... Colt Copter appears to still be in service, of a sort. He does not appear to be here, though. He was apparently moved to the New York Bunker a year ago. Beyond that, I don't have any further information or access." He turns back and looks at Box. "I would imagine the only man who would be able to learn more would be Ryan. At least, if he searches for it, I can copy whatever files he finds. Maybe even intercept a live conversation about it, assuming I'm not shunted out of the connection."

Box lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Colt is alive. She could probably not reach him for months, but she had just needed to make sure he was not in the steel claws of the Coalition under the guise of science. She looks at Mouse and smiles gently, her eyes slightly red from the good news. "Thanks, Mouse. I just needed to know."

She gets up slowly and brushes off her pants. The woman looked incredibly tall and imposing beside the crippled man, so Box tried to use as gentle a voice as possible. "I'm in your debt. What can I do for you?"

Mouse looks her over--not lecherously, but perhaps more with a piqued curiosity--before smiling a little nervously and looking down at his feet. "You're ugly. I'm ugly. Society does things for pretty people, not ugly ones. Consider this... On the house, since you were looking for family--not power, or glory, or whatever." He sighs and looks up from his feet at her. Not into her eyes, but at her--he fidgets as he does so. "Just keep in touch. Whatever you choose to do, whoever you choose to side with, the further up the ladder you get, the more information you can feed me... The more wire taps you can install for me. So I guess, you know, uh... K-keep in touch, yeah."

Box searches for Mouse's eyes, but he keeps them down. After his comment about her inquiry being on the house, her gentle smile broadens and she reaches to gently squeeze the fragile man's shoulder. "Thank you, Mouse. We may be ugly, but together we stand stronger." She takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. Her nervousness from earlier had somewhat dissipated and now that she knows where her brother is (or should be), the mental stress from the debriefing lifts off.

"You can count on me. I'm not much, I'm just a soldier -- but you won't find a more loyal ally." The woman chuckles and walks back up towards the metal detector. "Give me a beep whenever you need anythin' from me. Ship me any wires you can spare and I'll set you up whenever I get the chance."

Back behind the metal detector, she slips the dagger back into her boot. "Hopefully you can put a good word in for me with some of the higher-up folks in the Old Guard? A gal needs to eat to keep running and killing the bad guys." Box grins playfully and turns around to leave, ready to head towards the workshop where she would find Carolyn to officially sign up for any other work that could be offered to her.

"Stand, huh?" Mouse mutters bitterly under his voice, as he turns his wheelchair to face toward his computer monitors once more. Still, a sigh leaves his lips, as he lets Box leave with all of her equipment intact. He'd likely take her up on her offers later, when his ego was less bruised.

~~------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

In Carolyn's workshop, the sounds of all sorts of tools rang throughout the room as people worked hard and fast to retrofit numerous pieces of equipment. For Carolyn, it was her tank, as she was wiring some electronics together on a small device, which was likely supposed to be installed in the tank itself. Her fireproof jumpsuit was coated in oil and grease, though her hair had managed to escape most of the devastation, there was still the occasional splotch here and there. As Box walks over, Carolyn turns and raises an eyebrow. "Oh, hey. Not running away again?" She teases, though there was a hint of lasting irritation in her tone of voice.

Box grimaces at Carolyn's stab. As much as she was right, Box didn't exactly regret it -- they had been able to ambush the ambushers, potentially saving everyone's ass. Including Carolyn and her tank.

But, she also knows when to hold her tongue for once. She tries a painful smile, "Sorry about that ma'am. Won't happen again." She rubs the back of her neck, her foot idly playing with a piece of scrap on the ground. "I... I just wanted to know if you could sign me up for any upcomin' missions or odd jobs. You know I've been here for a while now, and I just... I want you to know, I'm still gonna fight with the Guard."

Carolyn sighs momentarily pauses what she is doing to point toward the stairs leading to the second floor. "Go talk to Marie, or my father. I'm sure either of them will hire you, I'm busy." She gets back to work on the electronics of her box, a look of determined irritation still in her eyes.

Box nods and bows politely, quickly making her way to Marie or Devin. She knocks on their office door twice, patiently waiting for one of them to answer.

"Come in!" Devin replies from the other side of the door, loudly. Inside, a desk sits. A few papers are on the floor, but he seems in the midst of cleaning them up, and putting them into more orderly piles. Above, a disfunctional fan rotates slowly, doing nothing to ease the unsettling feeling that the half-open blinds gave of the room. Lines of light streak across the room, and illuminate the pair of blue eyes looking at her. "What can I do, mister?"

Box pushes the door open, and gives a quick nod to Devin. "Good day sir, Box Copter reporting." She felt a tinge of easiness as she managed to come off as a man to him. "I came by today to make sure I was still listed as one of yours... one of your soldiers, sir. You can sign me up for any odd jobs or missions, dangerous or not."

The woman tries a small smile, disciplining herself from looking at the mess of papers scattered around. She wasn't sure if he knew her or her implications in the last (failed) mission. He had seen her around for years, so her hopes were rather low.

"I might have work for you." Devin replies bluntly as he picks up a few more papers off the floor, and starts going through them one by one to figure out what they were. "Are you willing to brave facing down one of those entities from the fog?" He doesn't look up from the paperwork when he asks, but he pauses--seeming to wait for her answer.

Box nods before realizing Devin is not looking at her. "Yes, of course. I want to catch whatever decimated our forces last week. I'll do what I can do keep this place I call home safe. Sir." She clears her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed by her own words and patriotism, but she also knew that this was the kind of stuff people in charge liked to hear.

He stares, blankly, at Box. Then, he shakes his head and chuckles as he picks up a file folder and tosses it to her. Inside were a few satellite photos, of a figure fighting against U-ARM forces. "Relax. We're not on a battlefield."

He crosses his arms and picks up a piece of paper, holding it out to Box. "When you're done deciding if you want to help capture whatever that thing is, feel free to sign your name here, and I'll tell you more. Of course, if you sign your name here, that does mean you're agreeing to work with us."

Box accepts the paper and reads it over. She nods and grabs a nearby pen, placing the paper on the door, and signs it. She hands back the form to Devin, "The Old Guard has always been a good place to be. I ain't leavin' for a shinier place." Box smiles a politely, ready to receive further information.

"Right." Devin replies, simply and bluntly. He takes the form and puts it aside, and points back to the file folder he had handed her before. "That's our target. We're going in with The Coalition to try and take him in alive. He comes from the orange fog, he appears to be alone and injured, and none of his friends are going out to help him. God knows why, it could be a trap. In fact, I would almost certainly bet on it." He opens one of the desk's drawers and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses. "However, we cannot pass up this opportunity. Even if it is a trap. If we can't beat them outside of the fog, we stand no chance inside it. Even if it isn't a trap, I'm willing to bet U-ARM will be there to try and stop us. At the very least, stop The Coalition. If you want this mission, I'll give it to you. If you don't, I'll tear up that piece of paper, and we'll pretend we never had this conversation."

Box raises her eyebrows at Devin's comments about the upcoming mission. She knew he was talking about the mutant who had come out of the fog and entered the bunker with them. She nods as he talks.

"No sir, I want in. You have my gun." She grins, a new spark in her eyes as the feeling of usefulness settles in again. "If you think it's a trap... Is there anything... Maybe, something you would like me to do in case things turn sour? I know the bunker like the back of my hand, and as you may know... I can sustain myself and heal up for a while."

"Ensure my daughter comes home." Devin replies bluntly and quickly as he takes the file folder out of her hand, and puts it away. "She is important for future Old Guard operations. Beyond that... Meet us back here at the machine shop, 1800 hours." He stops with his paper work long enough to offer Box a handshake. "Good to work with you again. Best of luck out in the field."

Box eyed the glasses and the whiskey, but accepted the handshake and Devin's words as a polite dismissal for now. Perhaps he was expecting someone? She nodded to him and took her leave, "Thank you, sir. I will make sure your daughter is safe, always."

The tall woman left the machine shop and figured she had a few hours in front of her, and began to wander around the area, the disembodied whispers from the fog haunting her mind quietly, exposing the vulnerability of her psyche a little more every day.

Jorick · Aug 14, 2016

Kiku, Bob, and Box
A collab with @LimeyPanda and @Pahn

After her meeting with Carolyn in the Machine Shop, Kiku wandered around the nearby district with an aimless boredom. She scratched behind her ear, feeling the discomfort disquiet of the whispers gnawing at the back of her mind briefly, like an untended itch. She was looking away as she walked; and suddenly spotted someone she recognised. Grinning, she whistled at Bob in the distance, trying to draw his attention as she waved the man down.

The whistle managed to catch Bob's attention, though he was a little slow in turning to find the source of it. As he did so he muttered something under his breath, then shook his head and raised a hand in a quick return of the wave. "Mornin' Kiku. What're you up to? Don't think we've seen each other since we all got pulled apart for the fun lil interview process."

Kiku smiles at Bob, glad to see the aged old man again. She had always seen him hanging around the Bunker, and the Machine shops, but they'd never really talked before the last mission; and the man had made a positive enough impression on her. He seemed smart, he seemed like a good talker, and she kind of liked listening to him speak. "Heya Bobbo. I'm just muckin' about, doing the rounds, annoying people and causing trouble; the usual. Plan to go and be bug that cutie Jenive next..." She said, a cheeky smirk on her face. Having just come from the direction of Carolyn's shop, it was probably not hard to guess where she'd come from. "What about you? You don't seem like the mischief type...What are you up to?"

"Bobbo? That's a new one." Bob chuckled and shook his head. He was sorely tempted to use one of the classics of the elderly, a 'kids these days' maybe, but he managed to resist the urge. By his reckoning he wasn't quite old enough to sit in a rocking chair and talk about how the younger generations are ruining everything, so he tried to save up grouchy sentiments so as to not get tired of them before he kicked the bucket. "So you're makin' the rounds, huh? Jenive seems like she's got a stick up her ass, but she's not an idiot. If you're lookin' to make friends with someone new, and it's always good to have friends workin' for different bosses if you catch my drift, she seems like a good choice."

Bob scratched at his beard for a moment, deciding how much he wanted to say. "As for me, well, y'know what they say about old dogs and new tricks? I just talked to Carolyn not too long ago, got the details of what's goin' on. I'll be there with the Old Guard, as usual. I was headed home to get my gear together, but..." He gave Kiku a wary look, lips pressed together in a flat line and his eyes slightly narrowed. "Have you been hearing any, uh, weird whispers recently? Feeling strange things sorta.. pulling at you? 'Cause I have, and it's real damn annoying. I was thinkin' of maybe figurin' out where it's comin' from."

Box was leaving Carolyn's shop when she heard a familiar voice - Bob's. After her adventures of the day, she definitely needed a friendly conversation. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, expanding her hearing like she often did, and instantly knew where he was. Once she turned a corner, she saw he was talking with another girl from their squad from last week, the one with the freaky eyes.

"Hey. Bob, Kiku." She waves awkwardly. "So it seems that... I'm not the only one who's been hearin'... whispers? Sometimes I can't tell if I'm hearin' my neighbours or someone across the street heh."

Kiku nodded at Bob when he agreed that slumming it with people outside the Old Guard was probably a smart idea. She'd be lying if her reasoning was just for friendship; she was curious what the grass looked like on the other side, and if her and Marie ended up anywhere else, it would probably be working alongside Jenive. Her interest was piqued when Bob mentioned the whispers though, and she couldn't hide the little flinch that their mention brought about. She'd thought that she was crazy for hearing them; little whispers that nibbled and gnawed like so many insects crawling beneath her skull.

Just as she was about to answer, she saw Box approaching. She didn't know much about Box; he was a bit of an oddity to her. She smiled though, in response to his awkward wave. "I mean, I'm kinda glad I'm not the only one. You're both listeners as well, right? Cus I'm pretty sure it was loudest in the fog. Especially when I first spotted those freaky guys in the fog." She said, remembering the brief outlines in the orange fog; terrifying and enthralling in equal measure. She wasn't looking forward to seeing them again; and she didn't envy what the others would be like upon first seeing them.

If he hadn't already been a little irritated by his own question and all the implications that went with it, Box's arrival would have soured Bob's mood. Instead it was just set a little deeper, like a stain in good clean clothes. "Box." He said the name by way of greeting with a slight inclining of his head, and his tone was kept entirely neutral. He hadn't had opportunity to address Box's early retreat from the battlefield with the pack of idiots who'd been set to watch the west flank where they'd stopped in the fog, and he wasn't particularly pleased with her sudden appearance. Doubly so since she helped confirm what he'd been afraid of about those damned whispers.

"So, definitely mutant shit then." Bob didn't like acknowledging his own mutant status, and it showed when he talked about it. "Hell, seems like fuckin' everything these days comes back to mutant bullshit. These whispers feel kinda different than the fog stuff though. These ones feel like.. like they're comin' from one place, not all around. There's a good walk between my house and the machine shop, and it was like walkin' past a street with a fight goin' on down it, you can hear it get louder as you get close and hear it get quiet when you walk past. Someone, or something, is maybe tryin' to grab our attention. I don't like it."

The woman tries to ignore Bob's cold tone. She reaches for her beanie and removes it, rubbing her eyes on the way and crosses her muscular arms over her, well, flat chest. She eyes Kiku for a few moments, taking a real good look at her for the first time. She knew that the smaller girl had more... abilities compared to her and Bob. "I also think they're tryin' to grab our attention. It feels like... they're beckonin' us, y'know? That is some messed up shit."

She keeps an eye on Bob, his usual cool and detached demeanor slipping off as he spoke. She bites the inside of her cheek before talking, "Are you guys goin' back out there?"

Kiku tried to shake off the feeling of unease crawling up her spine as the two older folk started to talk about how unnerving the voices made them feel. It had been different for Kiku. They hadn't felt unnerving, so much as they had felt like they were beckoning her. It had been like the mumbling of someone who you were sharing a bed with; incoherent and mostly impotent, but also kind of endearing, and something you couldn't help but want to listen to.

Kiku's momentary distraction and unease was broken when Box asked about going out. "You mean on another mission? You bet I'm going out there again. I'd get bored in here, waiting for people to shout at me for being a mutant." She said. sounding almost excited about the prospect of the upcoming mission. Sitting around the Bunker always made the young listener uneasy. There were only so many people worth talking too, and strangers were getting nervous around listeners more and more. Her eyes were too much of a give away to hide it, and her skin betrayed her more often than not. With the growing tensions, people were also less receptive to her more...friendly advances. "You guys hardly seem like the kind folk who prefer to sit on their asses. I'm guessing you're both gunna be out there too?"

"Yup, I'll be there." Bob's tone sat somewhere between resigned and bored, neither firmly opposed nor excited about the prospect of heading out again. "Long as I can still run and use a gun, I'll stump my old ass out there and get the job done. Ain't gonna change now, not after so many years doin' it. Call it a habit."

He paused and looked at each of them for a moment, eyes narrowing just a bit. He kept his voice light and friendly, but anyone with a working brain could've worked out the underlying tension in what he had to say. "If y'all are hangin' out here, near the machine shop, does that mean we're gonna be on the same team come showtime? I figure I ain't the only person that Adrik fella gave an open offer for work, and I figure some of them that came out of the fog are gonna take him up on it. You two gonna be with the Coalition or the Old Guard tonight?"

At the mention of the Slavic man, Box gritted her teeth and reached to rub her temple. She did not have a fond memory of the man who had debriefed them, and had no intention of going back to him willingly. The result of his hardcore interrogation had left her mentally weakened and she was relatively certain the others had not broken down like she had. Box needed to remove and clear out any other psychological weapons higher ups could have against her.

The black woman looked at Bob and noticed the change of tone in his voice. She cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head, replacing the beanie. "Are you seriously sayin' you're with the Coalition? They're hungry dogs of war, friend. No, no." She shook her head and shrugged, turning back to point at the machine shop. "I just spoke with Devin, I'm stayin' home with the Guard."

Kiku paused when Box mentioned the Coalition, referring to them as 'hungry dogs of war'. In fact, she intentionally stood up as tall as her meagre 5'4 would allow her, and poked the black man's chest with an accusatory finger. "Those 'dogs' are feeding poor people in soup kitchens. Those 'dogs' are the only ones who have the tech to help out listeners. Those 'dogs' aren't the enemy because Devin-fucking-Antoinette wants to pretend he's still the most important prick in the biggest fucking shop!" She said, meeting Box's eyes with her own savage-looking mutant peepers, an unusual anger building in her gut. The normal chipper, cheery nature of the Asian Listener was gone, replaced by just a hint of the much darker core. "If you want to pick a side, and suck Devin's dick, go ahead fella. But don't go around telling me that the Coalition is evil. Because last I checked, The Coalition didn't want to throw me out of the Bunker because I have different eyes, and my skin changes shades." She turned her back on Box, frustration forcing her to step back before she said something she regretted. "If you want dogs, look at U-ARM. Maybe you don't have to deal with them, because you look normal: but to them, I'm a freak. I'm someone to hate."

She took a few steps away from Box, stopping next to Bob. "I'm gone. I'll see you on the mission…I'm with the Old Guard this time…" She said, before turning to face Box one last time. "And you." She said, pointing an accusatory finger at Box. "Maybe you should look yourself in the mirror before you start judging people, mister. Last I checked, Jenive and the Coalition didn't run away at the first sign of danger." She said, before clicking in to her Mutation. With a brief shimmer, the young girl started to vanish; her eyes glaring at Box until there were no eyes left to glare. Her hand reached towards her knife, and she withdrew it. A brief flicker of intent almost had her throw the knife somewhere painful, but she stopped herself, putting the knife away before leaving Box and Bob alone.

Bob stood there and watched the drama unfold with a grimace. He didn't bother trying to calm Kiku down, he just let her do her disappearing trick and go. After an extended silence, he sighed and looked to Box with a frown. "Well that was stupid. Not just cause you pissed her off, but what you said there. I was askin' to make sure the both of you were with the Old Guard too, dunno what got into your head to make you think I'd switch sides. But just cause I'm a loyal old bastard don't mean I think the Coalition are hungry dogs of war." He put a sneering inflection on the phrase, mocking her words, and followed it up with a snort for good measure.

"Thought you was raised smart, but here you are bein' a dumbass. The Coalition does things different than I'd like, but that's all they are. Different. They ain't evil, they just got an odd way of seein' things, where the group matters more'n the people who make up the group. Leads to some dirty decisions, but hell, so does looking out for your own skin above anything else, I can tell you that for sure. I figured you for one who'd understand that different don't mean bad, mister." Bob gave the word added emphasis, this time amused rather than mocking.

Box's heart sank as she took in Kiku's accusations. She bit the inside of her cheeks, until her teeth pierced through the flesh. She tasted the iron and watched the small woman disappear. She looked at Bob and instantly felt ashamed by her careless comment. She could tell he was disappointed in her...

"I didn't think..." she started off but her throat was tight and her eyes were stinging. She rubbed her face roughly and sighed. "The Coalition is not what it seems. Jenive is... she's not like them..." she trailed off and crossed her arms on her chest, the place where Kiku had poked her hurting like a burn. "I'm sorry Bob, I'll apologize to her. And I'm sorry I'm not as smart as Jane and Wren hoped me to be... Sometimes I think their hopes for me were way too high..."

Box turned around and discreetly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. She was an emotional mess today, it seemed. "We should head to the shop, we're probably on the same mission and we have to be there at 1800 hours. I'll see you there, I don't live far from here and I just need to grab my shit."

She headed out before she let him reply, but Box was starting to think she wasn't good enough to be by anyone's side right now. Once at her apartment complex, she nodded to her neighbor Larrison and changed into her armoured clothing. She placed her double-holster around her waist and slipped her second pistol in it. Her backpack quickly filled with preserved foods, her medical kits, a water bottle, and she took Wren's vintage-looking gas mask just in case they were sent to the fog again. She also took a handful of cotton swabs to stuff her ears later, though she almost wished they could shut out the constant disembodied whispers that were floating around the bunker...

Bob let Box go without trying to stop her. Contrite though she'd been, this was the second time recently she'd fucked up big time and he had little patience for people who sunk into habitual stupidity. She'd been smart enough to admit to the fuck up and at least talk about fixing it, but that sort of smart was only good for damage control, not preventing problems in the first place. If she didn't shape up soon she was likely to die and maybe take others with her, and Bob wasn't quite sure if she was capable of learning better before that happened. He sighed and shook his head at Box's fleeing form before turning away and continuing as he'd been going, home to retrieve his gear in time to meet up with the Old Guard for a good old fashioned clusterfuck of a mission.

Brovo · Aug 15, 2016

"There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one." "Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit.""The poison of vipers is on their lips." "Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness." "Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know." "There is no fear of God before their eyes."
-Romans 3:10-18

The State of Things

Various groups organize and ready themselves for combat, moving into the outer Chicago city ruins area. It wasn't difficult to discern when The Old Guard and The Coalition were prepping to leave for their joint operation—word gets around. It takes three hours for them to reach the city limits. The air is frigid and, though gas masks were unnecessary, many took them upon hearing they were going anywhere near the city ruins. Anywhere near the fog that choked away life itself. The sun was only partially visible as it hung on the horizon, its comforting light quietly dying away as the bright hues turned red.

The overall light level in the area varied rapidly. Structures in the outer city limits were even more decrepit and unkempt than those within the fog, and plant-life overran much of it. Vines, a few trees, and a great deal of grass broke through the disheveled remnants of human homes. Though there were no bodies, as time had long since taken them away, the occasional human bone could still be seen here and there. Bleached white, and brittle. None from the original inhabitants—all long since gone—but from the occasional unlucky scavenger, who met their fate out in the wastes. Unremarked. Forgotten.

It would not be unfair to say that it was, and felt much like, treading through a million unmarked graves.

Nonetheless, the operation area was a series of small six floor apartment complexes. Some a little taller, some a little shorter, but all roughly on a similar parallel. Roads and alleys cut their way through them, with only the occasional husk of a long since abandoned motor vehicles to stand in the way. There were long stretches without any sort of useful cover between structures, making roads death traps for any folly enough to go them alone. Many of the structures appeared quite similar in original construction—perhaps a neighbourhood made upon the same model, though some structures contained more (and subsequently smaller and more tightly packed) personal quarters than others. Most all of them were luxurious compared to what the majority of people lived with in Bunker Chicago.

Two roads cut along each side of the target apartment complex. They both ran north and south, though one laid east, and the other west, of the apartment complex. Approaching the district would reveal several signs of attempted human habitation in recent years, most notably the addition of wooden plank-bridges, nailed down, between windows and rooftops of various apartments. The occasional makeshift traps also seemed to be present here and there, left behind by those who could no longer use them. While the traps could be easily spotted and disarmed with cautious travel and by paying close attention, they would present a danger to any running through vacant halls, or those who are focused on other things.

The quiet is only broken by the sound of approaching vehicles of war.

As The Coalition and The Old Guard approach the target structure from the south, they begin to plan, set up, and act...

The Old Guard – March

The Old Guard forces found themselves on the western road, leading alongside the apartment complex in question. It was between a pair of intersections. Carolyn stops her squad, and taps into her radio. She clears her throat, then speaks, confidently. "Remember, The Coalition is taking the east road, we are taking the west road. Squad one will take the intersection to the north, squad three will take the intersection we're on now—the southern intersection. We want to try and keep our extraction options open." She clears her throat again, and takes a deep breath. It was clear there was a hint of nervousness in her tone, but she wasn't allowing it to stop her from keeping a level head. "Squad two, we are grouping up at the western entrance of the apartment in question. We do not know which level the target is on, so we are going to have to search it level by level. We're starting at the bottom, and working our way up from there."

Finally, a calm exhale. "There are approximately ten rooms per floor. Be on alert for anything—we can't know if we got here first. Don't throw your lives away carelessly or without thought, and we'll make it through this thing. I will maintain watch and keep the western entrance covered for the rest of you. All of you know your squad assignments. Good luck, Godspeed." With that stated, the other two squads begin to move to their positions at each intersection, while Carolyn stops her tank in front of the western entrance to the apartment building.

Catheryn feels Evelyn's presence nearby, but cannot determine where specifically she is. Merely that Evelyn is there. She hears a quiet voice in her mind. "Speak nothing, child. We are not here to harm you."

The Coalition – Deployment

Along the eastern road, The Coalition's forces found themselves readying for combat. Piling out of three APC's, Jenive and a tall man stop and look at each other. The tall man puts on his helmet, and though it's muffled, he utters one word: "Zhnets. (Reaper.)" Jenive's typically chipper demeanour is kept still, a severe expression taking its place as she nods. "Storozh. (Watcher.)" With that said, the man taps an unseen switch by his shoulder, and fades instantly from sight. There is a small hint of where he is to the observant eye, as light does not bend quite perfectly around him, but sufficiently so that in the shoddy lighting conditions of the city ruins, he would be seen by nobody until he acted against them.

With that done, she turns and looks to everyone who had finished piling out of the APC's. Save for the helicopter above her, they could all hear her speaking. "We're going into the structure via the eastern entrance. I will lead this personally." She pats her rifle. Her laser rifle remained slung on her back, but it would not be as useful in close quarters as a normal rifle would be. "Specifically, we're climbing to the top of the structure, and working our way from the top down. Save for helicopter boy up there." She motions toward Gabriel's helicopter. "He has different orders. Those orders being to watch our asses from the skies and fire at any target we mark. To mark a target, those within The Coalition just have to point our scopes at them to feed target data through our satellites." She motions to her ballistics rifle, and her laser rifle. "Those of you still acting as affiliates, will unfortunately have to settle with waiting for someone else to do it, or manually shouting a location into the radio."

With all of her instructions stated, she motions toward the apartment complex. "You all have your orders. You were briefed before you go here... Carry them out. That is all." Three members of the cover team immediately run over to the side of the structure, then fire grappling hooks upward. They each latch onto the top of the building. "GO, GO, GO!" Jenive yells over the sound of the helicopter overhead as she motions for those entering the building to take the ropes up to the top of the building.

Children of Eve – Beginnings

The APC they had stolen from The Coalition's convoy had managed to slip away without much of any trace. Indeed, it had gone on without much of a hitch at all. They managed to hide their APC in the remnants of a parking garage, about a block away from the apartment complex. They all wore Coalition uniforms, both to allow them to take an APC in the first place, and to ensure they could use it as an element of surprise. After all, they could all instinctively recognize each other through the uniforms—nobody else could. While most of the listeners stayed behind, Peter and Florence follow Evelyn and Lillian toward the structure, from the south. Entering the southern apartment complex next to the apartment complex they need to reach. They climb to the second floor, only to find the path to the third floor blocked as the staircase has decayed too far to be used anymore. Evelyn glances back between Peter and Florence, and frowns.

Telepathically, she speaks to them. "Either we slip across the second floor bridge of planks and enter now, or we wait here and watch the tide of the coming conflict... Wait for an opportune moment to strike out. To do the former may give us the advantage of initiative, and reach Ezekiel first. To do the latter throws away any opportunity to reach Ezekiel first, but may allow us to infiltrate and ambush our opponents instead—If The Coalition gets him first. Which would you two prefer?"

Red Star – Infiltration

It didn't take long for Red Star to make their way to the edge of the city ruins themselves, then hop out of their truck and infiltrate in through their own ways. Before long, they found themselves in the apartment just to the north of the target apartment, on the fifth floor. Upon hearing the sound of approaching tanks, Morai wrinkles his nose. He quietly pulls out a pair of small circular camera drones, and glances back at his allies. "Wisdom, patch us in." One of the drones flies out of the building, and suddenly, the group could hear the radio speech that Carolyn was giving her troops. The relaying of orders—they would hear it.

Morai quickly leads the squad across a narrow blank bridge onto the fifth floor of the main apartment, motioning for them to check each room on the fifth floor. If they moved fast enough, they could stay one step ahead of The Coalition, so long as they avoided being spotted through a window or similar. Morai motions for Ozzy to check the two rooms at the end of the hallway—rooms 59 and 60, before moving to check rooms himself. The plan was simple and orchestrated well ahead of time. The Coalition was going to search from above, and The Old Guard from below. Therefore, while both got into position, the would search the fifth floor, and leave no sign they had searched these rooms at all. Then they would move onto the fourth floor, then the third, and if they found nothing, they would slip out on the third floor plank bridge connecting the northern apartment to the target apartment.

Wisdom momentarily silences the com chatter to speak. "Remember, eliminate Carolyn, Jenive, and whatever loud mouthed fool is commanding the U-ARM forces if you can. Leaders are not replaceable. I take no pleasure in wishing for their deaths, but the sooner the leaders are gone, the sooner the factions are crippled, and then we can get everything we need to save our people, and make a new home. Do not forget that. Omega (Ozzy), good luck. To the rest, wèilái cháng cún. (The future endures.)"

Potatocat · Aug 15, 2016

Carter

During the entire journey in the APC, Carter sat there repeatedly checking his arms and equipment. It seemed almost ritualistic in the way he repeatedly loaded his weapons, checked his suits functions, and made sure all his kit was in order. Going about it each time in the same order. He had also taken the time to wrap cloth around various parts of his rifle to help change the profile of the gun. When the door of the APC finally dropped, Carter ran out with the rest of the troops, rifle in hand. Once out he took to one knee and slowly scanned his surroundings. "You know, I'm not really fond of this feeling." Carter muttered to those around him. Though his armour hid his heat and silenced his heartbeat, he had a burning sensation in his gut and he could loudly hear his heartbeat in his ears. "I'm usually the one setting up the ambush. Not the dumb ass walking into it dick first."

He watched as a strange tall man came out of one of the APCs, pushed a button and disappeared. His own equipment was slowly shifting color to fit its surroundings, but it was nowhere as impressive as how light bent itself around the mystery man. With Jenive's brief re-briefing of their orders finished, Carter ran to the building to his right. The apartment complex diagonally placed from the target structure. He would then slowly make his way up to the third floor of the building, carefully watching for any traps laid by those who lived in the building long ago. Under the assumption he made it safely to a room that gave him a clear view of the eastern side of the target building, he would set up with his rifle far enough from the window so the barrel of his rifle wouldn't stick out. He found a table to move next to a window and lay his rifle on it, deploying the rifle's bipod. With that complete he would watch the target building. Carefully scanning the windows of each floor repeatedly, watching for any movement and paying special attention to the profile of any rifle barrels or other weapons.

DeadAxl · Aug 15, 2016

The ride was uneventful for Russell. He spent most of his time checking and double checking his equipment, and making sure his vitals were up to the task. He was fully-armoured, a rather large and heavy looking rifle lay across his lap. Next to that lay what looked like half of a helmet, the blank faceplate not reflecting the man's currently grim expression. On the last stretch of road, the man sighs through his rebreather as he places an injector pistol to the side of his neck. He pulls the trigger, the contents entering the man's bloodstream with a sharp hiss. He inhales deeply, eyes closed for a brief moment, as the drug begins taking effect in his system. Once that was done, Russell reached behind his neck and pulled up a collar from the neck of his armour. Some sort of material connected the collar and armour, to help in creating a mostly hermetic seal. The collar snapped onto the bottom of his rebreather, and Russell grabbed the half helm on his lap, placing it ocer his head. The back snapped into place with the collar, as the front attatched perfectly to the rebreather. A soft hiss sounded out, signalling the complete seal of the man inside the suit.

Once the little ride was over, Russell filed out of the APC with the others. He payed no mind to the mysterious individual that stepped out alongside Jenieve, instead doing one final check on his weapon before standing at attention. He offers no words during this time, instead choosing to listen to the orders. 'Going through top down, eh?' He thought to himself, before looking over to the grapple wires. 'This will be an interesting test of my servos, to say the least...' He makes his way over to the ropes, looking up their length, before beginning the long climb to the sixth story. Luckily his SST wasn't too heavy, he had yet to add more armour to its design, but despite that, he decided to use the rope to walk vertically up the building to be safe. His servos whirred loudly with the effort, supplementing his own strength with the task, all but removing the weight of the armour from his muscles as he scaled the side of the building.

Seba · Aug 18, 2016

Cathryn

This was weird. She didn't like it much. She was along for the bumpy ride. Cathryn listened to music most of the time to block out the noise of the engines and some of the whispers, but once she had to begin listening to Carolyn she couldn't rely on that crutch. She bobbed her head then adjusted her grip on Bad News. As great as the infiltration plan was, so far as her inexperienced self knew, she knew that her own power wouldn't be half as effective unless she had some serious distance. She hurried herself over to one of the neighboring apartment buildings.

Once she entered the building she slowed down and began to creep her way up to the sixth floor. She extended her hearing for whatever would give a sign of life along her path. She didn't want to bungle this first time in the field by getting shot by a lucky grunt. When she reached a window on the sixth floor pointed towards the target building, she would set up Bad News and prepare to defend her team.

Jorick · Aug 19, 2016

The Old Guard - Bob

This all sounded like a real simple job, which the optimist in Bob loved. The cynic in Bob was betting that everything would go tits up real soon here. As a new face scampered off, presumably to find somewhere to set up with that large rifle she was carrying, Bob switched his radio on. Where Carolyn struggled for calm, Bob had it in spades and used it to reinforce her orders. "Y'all heard the boss lady, let's take it steady and keep our heads on. Eyes up, ears open, call out if there's any trouble. Avoid bein' stupid and we ain't even gonna need luck." Bob proceeded into the building at a steady walk, following his own advice about keeping aware, and angled to check the righthand rooms one by one. He intended to be safe about checking doors, standing to the side and testing the handles with light movements to feel for any tension that might indicate a trap, before shoving any presumably safe ones open so any undetected traps or folks with guns waiting inside would only hit open air instead of him. He just hoped nobody had been stupid enough to rig a bomb to a doorknob, else this was gonna turn into a bad day real fast.

Firemind · Aug 19, 2016

Kiku – Bright ideas from the Spark Plug.

As Kiku walked the final stretch of the journey with the rest of the Old Guard's squad, she found herself patting her hands against her hip in a strange; tuneless rhythm. She seemed to almost be spacing out as the group walked; absentmindedly looking around in random directions and doing very little otherwise. In truth, she was scanning the surrounding buildings with her mutation active. Trying to spot any obvious heat signatures. She didn't spot anything, which was a relief in its own right, and she started to rub her eyes as the group stopped; and took in Carolyn's orders. When all was said and done, she opened up her radio and opened it to the public channel; broadcasted to both The Old Guard, and the Coalition. "Just a suggestion, but before we try anything crazy; let's try sending a Listener to talk with this big guy before we start shooting or something. Those U-ARM shitsuckers started with the Gun-show, and it didn't end well for them. If no one else is feeling chatty, I volunteer." She said, before releasing the broadcast button and waiting for any response. She un-holstered her Carbine rifle, and moved towards the side of the doorway, pressing her side to the wall and waiting for everyone else to get in position. She started to go through the mental checklist of things she'd checked and double checked: Where her spare magazines were, and which pocket she had her grenades in; where her gas-mask was, which in this case was hanging on her waist by a clip; where her necklace was, exactly where it should be; and…

…She stopped for a moment, realising the sudden, unmistakable quiet in her mind. It confused her, as she'd almost forgotten the world without the whispers in it. For a month or more, she'd had those niggling voices in the back of her mind; and now she could hear…silence. No voices, no whispers, no worries…

…Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?

Grothnor · Aug 20, 2016

Ozzy, or rather, Omega clicked his comms in acknowledgment of Wisdom's orders. He searched the rooms like he was ordered, as quickly as silence could afford. Pushing the doors open with his machete and pistol, he looked through them quickly before closing them gently. If I see the opportunity I will take it. His mind flashed with an image of his laser rifle. Just like Wisdom said, I'd rather not, but needs must. At least I need not worry overmuch about retaliation. He was grateful for his armor and mask. They did wonders to obscure his identity. Amusedly, he thought, It'd be quite the adventure living in the Bunker as a wanted criminal.

Maxim · Aug 20, 2016

Tristan Sovres - The Tower of Doom

The AEGIS tank whirred into the entry zone for the operation. Tristan sighed, the mission seemed fairly simple this time, get in, capture the mysterious mutant, and get out before things get too hairy. He chuckled a bit, that had pretty much been the last objective he had, but then an entire mess had opened up before everyone. Strange mutants with an unknown objective, most likely trying to destroy the bunker and ruin everything he guessed. Capturing this target would go a long way towards preventing that disastrous possibility, but Tristan was still nervous after the last mission. What was awaiting him this time?

As it turned out, something worse than he originally thought. He suddenly heard Jenive on the radio, shouting a command to climb ropes...to get up to the top of a six floor building! Gah, curse you Adrik! You did not tell me we were going to the top of the building first! he thought, believing this to be a ploy by Adrik to mess with his head further. Surely he must have known that Tristan was scared of heights like this. It was not nearly as bad as a helicopter, at least he had something to tether himself to, but even so Tristan's teeth chattered at the thought of climbing. Quickly his mind raced for a solution, he briefly thought about asking for permission to scout out the APC that had gone mysteriously missing, but it was a rather low priority objective, and he was technically in the extraction group.

Finding no way out of this, he took a deep breath, and got his things ready. Tristan hopped out of the tank, and gave it a command to seal and lock the tank from anybody being able to use it. To unlock it, one would need to know a password that only Tristan knew (not counting any Coalition agents that had spied on him of course). He removed two of the gun turrets on the tank, and left the other two on a standby sentry mode just in case. He took four of his Scrapper bots, one he placed on the tank as a visual aid if he needed it, and the other three he put in his backpack along with the turrets, a universal controller of his own design, and other odds and ends a pilot like Tristan would have. With some trepidation, he approached the ropes and stopped. He looked up at the massive (to him) structure, and shivered in his boots.

This was not going to be fun. He briefly thought about how he had gotten into this mess...

After the interrogation, Tristan had found himself in his own private quarters...although it was really more of a workshop as it was a mess of technology strewn about the room, with a small bet set in the corner. To an outside eye, it looked like a disorganized mess, but despite this Tristan rarely lost anything in this his little workshop. He was busy repairing his drones and turrets after the ops, though there was not much to repair to be honest. While the operation had been harrowing, there was not much of a confrontation overall.

Eventually, he set his tools down and stretched, it had been a few hours since he started working, and he thought he heard a slight creak when he stood up. He dismissed it as his imagination, and turned his thoughts to all the information he had gotten. A crazy cult of psycho mutants that he may or may not have met before, The Coalition being especially secretive about what is going on, and the political tensions in the Bunker reaching their peak. It was going to make keeping the peace difficult.

The peace, to Tristan it meant keeping the Bunker, and his family, safe. He had a mother, father, and two sisters, none of which were combatants. His fond wish, the reason he had gone into the military in the first place was to keep them safe; he was altruistic enough to protect the rest of the Bunker as well. He took a deep breath, that mess two years ago had taught him one thing, no matter how high the walls were, no matter how the authorities cajoled the populace, the Children could tear it all down. The operation had merely been a warning from them.

Them. Those who were uneducated were liable to label all Listeners as part of them. This was a foolish idea of course, they were no more susceptible to turning on the Bunker than anyone else. Still, the Children represented an enormous problem to his goal of security for all.

There had to be a solution.

With a grunt, Tristan turned the tight knob of his door, and began walking towards the bunker proper. He stopped a few times on the way, wondering if The Coalition was really a good idea. To him, TC meant a way back to civilization and security after the Fall, but the interrogation had made him uneasy. Power, once obtained, was not so easily let go after all, and his brief look at them had worried him. He tried to comfort his thoughts by telling himself they were still the best option. After all, the only other options were the bomb-throwing anarchists of U-ARM or the stubborn oligarchy of The Old Guard. In the former, chaos, in the latter, stagnation, he thought.

Eventually, he went close to the bunker, and found some sort of food line for the poor there. He smiled, now there was an idea he could get behind, helping others find food who could not afford it themselves. He saw Jenive there, and thought about volunteering to help the food line, but he shook his head. For now, he needed to discuss some business.

He saw a door with a few notes posted on it, one of which was an advertisement for recruits to the Coalition, another was a poster for the funeral services of Arrowhead Squadron. Sadly, obtaining the bodies for a proper burial had proven impossible, and they were likely mangled by the mutants anyway. Shaking the thoughts out of his head with a nod, he walked to the door the Coalition advertisement pointed to and told the guard "I'm looking for work with The Coalition."

Tristan was interrupted in his thoughts before he could go on further. One of the Coalition agents made a grunt at him, apparently telling him to hurry up. Granted, there had not been much left to the memory, just signing a non-disclosure document, learning Adrik's name, and getting a mission briefing.

His hands gripped the rope tightly and, making use of his military training, Tristan climbed up, sweating as he did so. One step at a time he went up, trying to resolve not to look down. About halfway up, he had a lapse in concentration, and got a good look down, onto the hard concrete below that would splatter his head into a million pieces with a misstep. Immediately, his hands shocked and he briefly let go of the rope. A burst of adrenaline later, he grabbed back on before he fell off. Tristan gave a loud "Phew!" at that, and finished the climb. He got down on his hands and knees to rest at the top of the structure, and said "Bah, the things I do for duty. I have my things, let's get going."

Holmishire · Aug 22, 2016

Hewitt Ziegler
@Holmishire.

Hewitt acknowledged Kiku standing by the door as he passed her. "I'll try not to shoot anything until you've had a chance to look it over."

With Bob scouting out the right side of the first floor, Hewitt moved quickly towards the left, taking pains to be silent as he did so. He grimaced at the sound of the old veteran knocking down a door, but did his best not to let it distract him. After all, it was hardly likely anyone inside hadn't noticed the tanks setting up outside. Bob was just taking extra safety precautions.

Still, Hewitt preferred to keep himself unnoticed for as long as possible. Though he quickly looked over doors for traps, he chose to open all doors slowly, one hand always on his weapon—even though he wasn't likely to shoot until fired at.[/hr]

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

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