Twilight 2025

[Apocaric]

This had not been one of the better days in Taylor Jacobs' life, he reflected as he crouched behind the convenience store counter. He'd stopped to get more diesel fuel, only to be ambushed, shot at, and robbed. Valkyrie was probably rolling down the highway with those "Free States Militia" assholes right now.

He sighed quietly. At least he wasn't badly hurt. The "militia" couldn't shoot for shit, and his injuries - a gash across his forehead and one across the bottom half of his left bicep - hadn't been caused by bullets, but rather the dangers inherent in the current landscape. Namely, the broken counter he was currently hiding behind and a jagged bit of Rebar jutting out of the huge whonking hole in the side of the convenience store.

After the bandits (militia, his left nut) left - they bugged out while he was pouring QwikClot on his wounds (And wasn't that a bitch. The stuff was valuable, and if he'd known they were just going to steal his ride the minute he dropped out of sight he'd have used a bandage. Or something.) - he'd done some quick scrounging. He'd come up with a bottle of Everclear and some jerky, both of which he'd stuffed into his cargo pocket.

The group he was watching now - two high school girls, a wannabe bush cowboy, and a kid who'd be recruitment poster material if he got a haircut - seemed friendly enough, even if the girls looked a bit jumpy. Not that he blamed 'em. In a survivalist colony - assuming there was one forming- they'd be prime breeding material, and out here...well, the majority of the survivors were sick fucks.

He sighed again. He might as well step out and talk to them. They were, after all, potentially the last friendly faces he'd see in awhile.

Grumbling to himself, he grabbed a couple packs of Malboros and a "Quad-Jet Interceptor Torch" novelty lighter out of the clutter on the ground and stuffed them into the breast pockets of his BDUs, sliding a stray five-pack of Black'n'Milds into his rolled-up sleeve. As he straightened and started around the counter, it occurred to him that the tacky, half-congealed blood covering his lower left arm and the right side of his face and neck probably wouldn't make him look all that friendly. Ah, well. Too late now - no doubt they'd heard the grinding sound as he walked through the debris.

Just as he cleared what used to be the shop's doorway, movement behind one of the girls caught his eye - he sidestepped left and got a good look of a crazed-looking survivor with a fire axe lurching into a run. Without thinking, he lifted his spearbow, grimacing as he braced with his weakened left arm, and pulled the trigger.

SCHRANK!

The survivor somersaulted backwards as his forehead sprouted a foot-long metal shaft, and his axe skidded to a stop next to the older girl's feet.

Well, if they didn't know he was here before, they did now. Cursing mentally, he forced himself to act cocky. Bringing the now-unloaded spearbow to rest on his shoulder, he walked slowly up to the group.

"Y'all lost?"

Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth.

 

[October Knight]

The shopping center turned out to be a little more "ran through" that Chuck originally thought, but he should have expected as much. Hardly anything was left intact in the recent months, what hadn't been completely ransacked was burnt to the ground. As he watched Anthony walk over to the library, Chuck decided to check out the sporting good store. All over the parking lot was broken glass and trash, what a dump this world had become. It really said something about the general population of the United states in the 21st century, or the majority of them at least. While most people were living like wild beasts with no order, rule, or direction Chuck always thought that he was the last sane person on earth, until he met the other three. They all seemed more or less normal.

Chuck made his way to the Sporting good store, that actually looked like it was privately owned by some redneck. The confederate flag just outside the door gave it away. Rednecks and there guns, thought Chuck. Once inside he quickly saw that the place had been picked through like a bum through freshly dumped garbage. Everything on the walls had been thrown to the ground and all the glass cases containing the handguns were smashed and empty. He walked past, double checking for any Guns or ammo he could find, there was nothing. Even the small caliber weapons had been taken. Damn! thought Chuck. However he did find some other items that could be used Including, Some rope, a few titanium hooks, flint and steel fire starting systems, and a small water filter. That would come in handy.

Chuck walked to the back of the store and into the owners office. It was completely trashed as well. It looked like there had been some sort of shoot out there because bullet holes riddled both walls and dried blood was caked up on the floor. Last stand, thought Chuck, but where were the bodies? Surely someone had to have won the gun fight? Then he thought that he knew what had happened, cannibalism. A small shiver went down Chucks spine. He quickly shook it off and bent down to tie his shoe. While crouched down he noticed something under the desk, he reached under and felt a leather holster and inside was a weapon he pulled this out http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/shotgun-no5-rot.JPG. Chuck took the sawn off 12 gauge and smiled, thank god for paranoid country boys, he thought. He checked it and found it to be filled to the brim with slugs, not some sissy bird-shot, but 12 gauge slugs. Nice. It held 5 shells with one in the chamber, so 6 total. He put the weapon in his pack along with the other items he found and left the store.

When he got outside he saw the others waiting, but before Chuck could say anything he noticed another guy with some sort of speargun. He shot it directly behind the others. For a moment Chuck thought that he was hostel and had missed his shot, but in fact he hit his target dead on. Behind them was a crazed survivor, now a dead man with a spear sticking out of his head.

Chuck ran up to them just as the new comer asked if they were lost.

"Nice shot man" Said Chuck noticing that the guy had a couple wounds " Hey you want some water, we found some up at a rest stop." He started to fish a bottle out of his bag then added in response to his question. "I'm not sure about the others, but I sure as hell feel lost, my name is Chuck by the way." He found the bottle of water and offered it to the man.

 

[Sakura]

[BG="#330066"]

A n n i e Lockhart

Annie didn't even get a chance to react to the blood on Anthony's clothes. As he and Kylie conversed, Annie stood there quietly, with both hands on the strap of her messenger, feeling a little out of place. She was glad that she was traveling with companions now, but she found it...different from what she was used to. She watched as Chuck went off to get something from the supermarket and stepped in his direction uncertainly. I'm sure there's not much left anyway...I would've gone to the library, but... she was reminded of the dog and shuddered at the thought of it attacking Anthony. She hadn't been traveling for long, so seeing things like dogs gone insane or people starving was rare. Where she was from, everything had been left in rubble and no one was left.

Lost in her thoughts, Annie was startled by the shot, whirling sideways to follow the sound, her hands flying to mouth with a gasp. She watched as the man flew backwards and fell to the ground, presumably dead. She swallowed, feeling a strange, cold feeling come over her at the sight. Her fists tightened, fingernails digging into her palms. She lowered her arms and looked over at the man who'd just appeared.

She was still a little overwhelmed by the man he'd killed. She glanced back at the dead man's body again, brooding silently. Then drew her arms around herself and looked down. She knew that it was for the best, especially if the man had been about to attack them, but still, she couldn't get her heart to understand. She felt like crying, but she knew she couldn't burden the person who'd saved them from danger. She raised her eyes from the ground, looking over at Chuck, who had returned. She watched as Chuck offered him water and felt her feelings shift a little. Thats right...We're companions now. We have to help each other...Some people... She thought of the dead man behind her and sighed. Some people can't be helped, right? The thought made her feel a little better, relieved almost.

"We're all lost one way or another.." she muttered, not really sure of what she was saying herself.
[/BG]

 

[Dylan]

<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> The air was thin at this elevation. It was authentic and natural, and he had to actually watch how he breathed. Quite the change from the office, now a pile of cinders. Would the day come when he would completely forget the artificial sunlight, the manufactured air specifically conditioned to the ideal temperature? Did the genuine imitation life he had as an accountant leave an impression on him? He remembered the day his boss gave out copies of Sun Tzu's Art of War in order to increase our "predatory marketing potential," but he was always strange. Even stranger when Alex found his body contorted in a way he couldn't imagine possible. I guess the invaders had a sense of humor, albeit morbid.


He took a deep breath, and he felt the chill in his lungs, the soft cold burn of the high altitude air. It was exhilarating. Alex had always dreamed of saving enough money to go away, to hike and see the wilderness in its splendor, high above the reach of man and its fantastic-plastic world. But that old phrase "be careful what you wish for" echoed in his mind. He never thought himself a spiritual man, but seeing the devastation all across the valley below, he knew what everyone said about Karma was true. If he scraped off some corporate money through loopholes to enjoy life a little more and he was paying back now, he was ready. Karma could only do so much staring down the barrel of a death-dealing machine, the rifle he used to keep his chances of living higher with each shot. Those raiders thought themselves smart to pick off scavengers one by one. At this point, it was certain that they had bled out weeks ago, dying slow painful deaths. But its never bad to have wishful thinking. The longer they suffered, the better he felt. But now his scope caught something else in its watchful eye. He whispered to himself, focusing on the group. "Live or die, I'll be the one to decide on this highway of mine. So lets find out who I'll be dealing with today."


Two women, looked to be teenagers. They wouldn't be a threat. The rest were much younger than him, but looked capable of defending themselves. Not from a long range though, even the toughest of men would go down with good aiming. But he wasn't about to me a lawless murderer. He at least had some personal code to follow by.


In a few moments the rifle was safely back in its suitcase. The dirt trail that lead down from the ridge was quick, he had used this as a scouting vantage point for some time. Once he was down, it was only a few moments before reaching the group. He waved to them, calling out to see if its safe. "Afternoon! Where are you all headed, I might come with you. I'm alone, and I have my own food. I figure if I stay with a group my chances of dying are less, so here I am." He waited for their response, gripping the handle of the briefcase tightly.

 

[Effort]

Anthony heard a disturbance of rubble and turned to look what had caused the noise, as he turned a metal spike thing flew past his face between himself and Kylie to strike an axe wielding crazy guy in the head and sending him all dead like to the ground. Anthony looked from the dead guy to the new guy.

"Y'all lost?" he said. Anthony scrutinized him with hard eyes. Scruffy looking but he seemed kind of military-ish. Pretty quick Chuck came around and complimented this guy's shot, greeted him and offered him some water. He noticed Annie's disdain and he felt similar. With a sigh Anthony bent down and picked up the axe, handing it to Kylie.

He heard a call from afar, another dude, wanting to join their group. It sounded almost like a rehearsed pitch. Anthony scrutinized this one much the same way he scrutinized the other guy. He seemed to try and maintain a professional air. Anthony wasn't going to be so quick to trust them just yet. Taking his eyes from the second new guy he walked to the fallen survivor and put his foot on the crazy guy's face and yanked the bolt out. It came out with a quick sucking noise. It was pretty repulsive. Anthony wiped the spike thing on the survivors dead shirt and walked back to where everyone was and waited for the army dude to take the bottle before handing him the spike. "My name is Anthony. We're not headed anywhere in particular just yet I have some family I mean to look for though. We're normal and we won't kill you." He looked at the man with the case. "Either of you." He gave him a nod with the kind of smile you give to a stranger when you are forced to sit next to them on a bus.