NO MAN's LAND: A Survival RP (IC/ENDED)

[Partially Blind People]

Tommy Paine, outside Salida

Tommy knew almost instantly he'd failed. Jen tensed up quickly, crossing her arms as she thought over his poor disguise. He swallowed hard, his hand subconsciously wandering towards the revolver. His mind raced, coming to an excuse, but he was terribly exposed, both in his disguise and in the physical wasteland that he now stood in.

"I want you to humor me with something. Take your mask off."

That was the death knell, he was sure of it, they would find him and have him executed, or worse. His hand settled on the revolver, the icy grip of the metal doing little to relax him. He made one last effort, hoping the excuse would suffice.

"I can't, I was burned at Aspen, the scars are... too much."

[Derelldia]

Locust almost shuddered at the idea of going to a pub and being in a social environment; but he didn't openly protest, he just stuck his tongue out under his mask and shook his head a tiny bit when nobody was paying attention to him. He looked around trying to figure out which direction the pub would be in. Then he turned back to see Wolf walk off further into the snow covered town, with Ivana go after him a tiny bit.

"Wait, where do you think you're going?" Ivana stopped him, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"I have some important business to attend to," Wolf continued, "I'll meet up with you guys at the pub afterward."

Locust looked at Ivana and Snow as the three of them stood there, all of them seemed to just be lost in the town. He shrugged his shoulders a bit before asking, "So either of you two know where this place we're meant to go is? 'Cause I sure as all hell don't. Never liked settlements. Too many people sitting in a half opened can." His voice had trailed off into quiet mumbling by the end.

[New Grestin]

"I can't, I was burned at Aspen, the scars are... too much."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, stepped up and grabbed the man by his collar. She gave him little time to react before she moved her hand and yanked the mask off. She paused when she saw his face.

"...What the fuck are you doing, Tommy?"

The trio stood around for what felt like hours before Jen spoke again. Her mind was desperately trying to wrap itself around the situation. A man she'd only known for having a psychotic breakdown was suddenly disguised as a soldier in her new empire? It was all so confusing that she didn't notice a pair of Vulture guards walking up, Doc alongside them.

"What's going on?"

The aging man looked to Thomas, then Jen. She merely shrugged, motioning to the man as the storm's breeze kicked up again.

"Uh, I used to...I worked with this guy. It's cool."

Doc raised an eyebrow. He looked down to the man. Apart from a strangely well groomed mustache, he was rather unremarkable. What really drew his attention was the bloodstained Vulture gear he'd taken.

"Right, well-" he said, looking back out towards the ever brewing storm. "Let's just get him inside. The storm's about to arrive." With that, Doc left the trio to their devices, deciding it best not to question the Empress. At least, not at the moment.

Jen sighed, rubbing her face before turning to Thomas. She reached into her matte green coat and tossed him a revolver, then motioned to Tommy. He nodded, then turned Tommy around and pointed to the camp. The gun was the insurance policy, meant to pay off if Tommy tried anything stupid. Thomas, keeping the gun trained on the man, looked over towards Jen.

She looked terrible. Randy's outburst and abandonment had to have had some effect on her, if her sagging tired eyes were any indication. They hung low, focusing on the ground as they walked.

"You doing, ok?"

The woman perked up almost immediately, flashing a awkward smile and nodding. She quickly looked to Tommy.

"Now, let's cut the bullshit here. Why are you out here, why are you in one of my uniforms, and who'd you kill to get it?"

---

Revenge. That was the only thing on his mind anymore. Randy wasn't a man who believed in taking the cards dealt to him in life. He preferred to flip the table and shoot the dealer. As he marched forward into the dark unknown of the storm, his mind swelled with thoughts and machinations.

First, Claire had betrayed him and put a bullet in his arm. It wasn't the first time anyone'd done that to him, but it stung all the more that it was a woman he thought he loved. Love and loss bred in an orgy of despair to birth the resentment he felt now. Pain was all that could be truly felt anymore. His body had blocked out all stimulus, only allowing in a torrent of soul-rendering pain.

Now, Jen, someone who he'd gone out of his way to help, had become a turncoat. Not just that, she was ruling the very empire that he'd spent so much effort trying to escape. Yet, Thomas had just joined her like it was nothing!

No, no, no, this would not do. He pushed past the brush and into the treeline, clambering down into a small opening in the woods. He paused for a moment. There was a rather rusted out car, just sitting there. However, it wasn't the car that drew his attention. Around the car was a pool of blood, just starting to dry into the snow-covered earth. Randy stepped up to it, only to jump back at the sight of a human hand, freshly severed and handcuffed to the car.

"Jesus..." he mumbled, kneeling down and poking at the hand.

He rose and scanned over the clearing, now quite uneasy. Something glinted on the ground near the edge of the clearing, though, and Randy stepped over to it. It was a handgun. A revolver, more specifically, with a peeling chrome finish and a series of notches carved into the side. A record of it's kills, he assumed.

Randy spun the cylinder. It whirled around with a satisfying click before he slowed it, popping it open to find two bullets.

A thought flashed into his mind. A thought that he desperately wanted to dash, but it's tendrils forced themselves into his gray matter and took root.

Jen had betrayed him, taking over the very army that had cost him Claire. Someone needed to foot the bill for that. Someone needed to pay an eye for that eye.

Why not Jen?

Why not the very woman whose machinations had brought him to this very point? Had she not gotten herself captured, had she simply died in those slave pens, maybe Claire might still be alive. So many possible eventualities swirled through his mind, all of them better with Jen's absence. Thomas would be little more than an additional casualty.

Two bullets and he'd kill them both, then the universe would choose his fate.

He sighed, clutching the revolver closely as he stumbled through the woods. A hell march whose only final goal was the death of a friend. A former friend.

[Peace Loving Warlords]

Church of the Golden Dawn//Salida// Colorado

"So this is the part where you kill me right?"

Norman stared up from his improvised hospital bed with resignation, his weakened body unable to pull himself upright in bed as he looked up at Father Mackenzie. For what little it was worth Mackenzie made an attempt at mock surprise at the Sheriff's allegations, although the revolver played with lazily in his hands did little to hide his intentions.

"Oh no Mr.Norman, I have plenty of use for you..." Mackenzie absentmindedly spun the barrel of one of Norman's own revolvers, "Just not at the moment after your last few mistakes."

"How was I supposed to know the old bitch wasn't going to take him to you!" Norman cried out indignantly, "She had zealots with her! You told me specifically that I can't interfere with any of them!" Norman was quick to silence himself as Mackenzie's glare sharpened at him.

"That wouldn't stop you from reporting him and that girl to me Sheriff." Mackenzie took a step closer to the sheriff, pointing the revolver at the silent man before raising it to the ceiling and shaking is head.

"You're not worth the ammo Jack." Mackenzie explained calmly before turning to leave, sowing the revolver in his coat. As the door opened, a pair of Zealots entered and began to approach the bed. As the door shut behind him, Mackenzie smiled as he looked Norman in the eye.

"Goodbye Jack, may God have mercy on your soul."

Mackenzie could almost hear the faint sound of Norman's muffled screaming through the door as the Zealots smothered him to death.

---

Cain//Outskirts//Salida//Colorado

(Snippy)

Cain stood as Sera pulled the young wolf pup off of him. Regaining his footing he looked over to Sera with confusion on his face.

"Help with what exact-" Before Cain could finish, shots rang out from the other side of the cart. Acting on instinct, he leaped at Sera and knocked her to the ground, covering her and the now startled wolf pup from any potential fire. Quickly glancing up, Cain watched as the shooter, who he could see was firing at something away from the carriage, turned back to yell over to the carriage.

"Can we get moving please!!"

Before Cain could figure out what was going on, a second voice called out from the other side of the carriage.

"Foley, what are you doing? We can't let the town know where we--is he dead? Let me check."

Cain watched from his vantage point from the bottom of the carriage as Hugh called out to Foley before running of to join him. He could hear Sister Mary joining in on chastising Foley. But before he could make out what she was saying Cain's attention was brought back bellow him as the wolf pup was finally able to squirm its way out from between Sera and Cain's bodies and ran over to Lauren, who Cain could tell was from a quick glance was wounded, and began its own investigation of her. Looking back down Cain's eyes widened as he realized where he was again and quickly got off of on top of Sera.

"Sorry about that." Cain replied red faced, doing his best to look anywhere but at Sera. "Force of habit, given all the crazy stuff we've been up to." Cain, not waiting for a reply turned and grabbed his sniper rifle from the side of the carriage and pointed it over towards where Foley had opened fire.

Smooth moves there prince charming.

Shut up.

Did you at least get a good feel while we were down there?

Do you ever think about anything other than sex?

Well I'm a big fan of man slaughter, and asses, but mostly man slaughter. But we both know how much you like it when I do that.

Ignoring Richard as best he could, Cain spotted the wounded man through his sniper's scope. He appeared to have been dragging a stretcher with an other wounded or possibly dead man, behind him before he was shot. The stretcher and his possibly dead friend being the only thing standing between him and an untimely death.

Great, the dumb ass probably just shot another refugee from Salida. Not like there haven't been enough of those damn bastards wandering around here to shoot but still.

Cain called over to the still arguing trio of Sister Mary, Hugh, and Foley.

"Our friend over there's still kicking from the looks of things, and from what I can tell he's got another wounded with him. What exactly do you guys think we-"


"GGGGRRRRAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHH!!!!"

Cain's question was cut off as the sound of a coming hoard of the blighted resounded through the forest.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Readying his rifle, Cain called out to the assembled group, "Look alive people! We've got company!"

---

Church of the Golden Dawn//Salida// Colorado

Mackenzie sat on his throne in the Main hall of the church and looked over some of the yellowing maps of the area around Salida. With Norman disposed of and the Vultures still encamped nearby Mackenzie was busy formulating more plans on the immediate future when he heard a commotion from just outside the doors of the church. He could hear the indignant cries of his secretary, a leftover from Salida's former Mayor and a recent convert to the church, just before the doors of the church were unceremoniously kicked open to reveal a towering giant of a man.

The man stood with a air of confidence as he strode his way into the church, despite the Zealots greeting him with with raised weapons.

Wolfgang Magnusson // Salida Church, Colorado

"Father Mackenzie, I presume? My name is Wolfgang Magnusson," Wolf said as he pulled back his hood to reveal his messy, short-cut hair. The towering man's rebellious locks, dirty blonde in color, contrasted the pure onyx of his gas mask.

Wolfgang smirked, baring his sharp, dagger-like teeth, "And I believe we can help each other get what we want."

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow at the man's bravado, but otherwise kept his face neutral as he examined him. He picked up his cup of tea before replying.

"And what would it be that you are looking for exactly my child?" Mackenzie gestured towards his Zealots as he took a sip of his tea.

"Because with an entrance like that you are very fortunate that you weren't given a quick death instead." As he finished speaking, an other newcomer arrived, pushing past the former receptionist and poking his head through the door.

“I need to talk to Mackenzie. After you finish up.”

"Certainly." Mackenzie replied, not taking his eyes off of the giant in the center of the hall.

"After we're done with this meeting first."

[Wallenburg]

Hugh Garmany || 28 October 2042 || Outside Salida, Colorado

"Where are we?"

Hugh looked up from Lauren's wound and into her eyes. They opened slowly, onto his smiling face. His heart ached and sighed as the irons of anxiety fell from it. "Just outside of Salida, he said. "Getting away from Mackenzie. We found Cain and Sera. Foley's alive too. You're shot, but not too badly. I think we--"

Hugh's calming heart jumped violently as the gunshot pierced the air.
Hugh looked back behind the carriage, irritation building in his voice. "I'm sorry, love, I'll be right back."

Grabbing his M16, Hugh stepped through the thick snow, approaching the sound of the gun. There he found Foley, an AK of sorts in his hands, pointed at a nearby snow bank. "Foley, what are you doing? We can't let the town know where we--" His eyes caught a flicker of movement where Foley had aimed his weapon, and Hugh turned to look more closely. "Is he dead? Let me check."

Tightening his grip on the stock of the gun, Hugh walked farther into the snow. "Hello there? Still alive?"

"Can we get moving please!!"

"Like hell we can!" growled Hugh, advancing toward the snow bank where the figure had fallen. "You just shot someone! Right outside of the town!"

Then he heard a younger man's voice call out, and a tattered white flag rise, an open hand and a head rising from the ground soon after.

"I don't want any trouble! Please! I have a wounded man with me, he needs help now. Please at least let me and my freind leave peacefully. I hoped to see if you would help us get to Salidia." Yelled Gared as he rose with one hand up and the other holding the white flag as the storm started to roll in.

"Please.... Have some mercy."

Hugh raised his M16 at the man but was careful to keep his finger off of the trigger. The man seemed familiar, but he wasn't sure why. "My name is Hugh. We can't help you get to Salida, but it shouldn't be very difficult. The walls are just over there."

A vicious roar erupted from the forest, shivering down Hugh's arms and across his back, as if they already anticipated the bloody claws of the reaver. "Shit," he said, backing away from the man with the flag. "I'm sorry. We need to go now." He turns back, sprinting to the horse and heaving himself onto its back. "Come on, everyone! We have to get away from here!"

[Beiarusia]

Year 27, Day 104
October 28

Sera Tallow // outside Salida, Colorado

"Help with what exact-"

Several shots rang out like strikes of thunder. Cain, no doubt acting on instinct, grabbed onto Sera and pulled her down to the bed of the cart, laying atop her as if to shield the girl from any stray rounds. She tried to complain, but his weight atop her mixed with the still burning embarrassment was enough to silence any words that may escape her. The wolf cub had no such qualms and wiggled out between the two bodies as best he could. Cain watched the little animal for a brief second before looking back down to Sera, his eyes meeting her own. Red in the face she looked away.

Cain, just as red, apologized, picking himself up and forcing himself to look anywhere but at the girl. He tried to lighten the tension but ultimately gave up, grabbing his rifle and moving to help the others. Sera was slow to pick herself up. Arms crossed over her chest, she pushed herself so that her back was pressed to the wooden box, her eyes staring down at her feet.

The robes she wore were itchy. A small distraction to focus on. Lauren was also awake, but the girl made no effort to speak with the older woman, remembering the icy glare from when they had gone after Jen and the others.

Jen…

Another distraction to focus on, but one that Sera would much rather forget. Curled up as best she could, she tried to keep her mind trained on anything but the strange thoughts that plagued her. Things that made her uneasy. Uncomfortable. Truthfully, she would rather be sad. The sadness she could handle, having lived with it for so long now, in Aspen and even now. The sadness she understood.

A terrible howl sounded through the cold air. A familiar sound that made the girl’s hair stand on end.

At the very least fear was something that she was accustomed to.

Tyrone Mercer // Church, Salida, Colorado

Mercer looked first to Mackenzie, then to the giant of a man, and then back to the aging pastor. Feeling that he had walked in at a bad time, he excused himself and slid the door shut behind himself. With nothing else to do he took a seat at one of the many pews lined up along the central aisle.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a church, not counting the ruins he’d scavenged over the years, shells of something grander. He was still a child, going with his family on Sunday. Mom and dad and Bryant. It had seemed a chore back then. But he believed.

He hadn’t seen much of God since everything went to shit.

Not after Bryant died.

Dwelling on the past wasn’t something Mercer was inclined to do, so he made himself comfortable and rested his eyes, not knowing how long it would be before he could meet with Mackenzie. He didn’t fall asleep, not even for a second. There was too much going on for him to simply let his guard down. Especially in the heart of Salida. His eyes may well be shut but his ears were kept open.

Luke Anton // outside Salida, Colorado

“Doesn’t look like they’re too concerned with us,” Anton said, muttering in slight disdain.

True enough the people with the cart seemed all too focused with another group of newcomers who had simply wandered out of the woods. One was obviously injured, being dragged along on a stretcher, and another seemed to have already been shot. His pleading shouts could be heard even from this far as he surrendered. The message must have taken because no further shots were sent into his skull.

A good sign. Anton wouldn’t be as keen to approach if these were the sort of people to simply gun down others with little rhyme or reason. His own odds likely wouldn’t be much better.

Anton relaxed his grip on the handgun. “Don’t look like bastards so far.”

Ambrose only grunted in reply.

Anton was about to shout over to the others when the howl of a Lurker sounded not too far off. Loud and as horrible as it could ever be. Another howl sounded after the first. A pack of Mutts having followed suit.

“Fuck me. Move it old man!” Anton rushed ahead towards the cart with Ambrose just behind him. It was closer than the wall and maybe, just maybe, having numbers on their side would keep them all from becoming something else’s meal. Anton wasn’t too sure but it was better than taking his chances in Salida.

Movement in the wood. Lurker, big one, flanking. Two others crossed the road behind them, circling around with several Mutts following after. Another far ahead doing the same. They were going to surround the cart and attack from all sides.

One of the men in the cart finally took notice of Anton and raised his rifle. Anton, in turn, held out his hands in surrender. “Not the time!”

The zealot was smart enough to back down.

Another howl, long and terrible. An injured horse, panicked, made a dash for safety. It didn’t get far. Two Mutts launched from where they had been stalking, nipping at the animal’s legs and tripping it. It crashed hard onto the cracked asphalt. Two more Mutts joined in as they all latched onto the poor creature, tearing into it and ripping flesh and organs in their frenzied hunger. One finally tore out the neck, ending the creature’s suffering.

A Lurker made a dash for the cart from the far side. Anton fired blindly, missing the creature but forcing it to rethink its approach. It scampered back briefly before charging ahead once more. The others joined in.

[Partially Blind People]

Tommy Paine, outside Salida

Jen stepped forward, leaving him little time to react though he held himself back anyway- it was pointless to shoot her here. She pulled the mask down, however, he still didn't react, merely grimacing as the cold winter air bit his exposed cheeks and nose. He simply stared and waited for her to speak. Eventually, she composed herself.

"...What the fuck are you doing, Tommy?"

He said nothing, giving a blank expression as his answer. She didn't need any words, any explanation, in the madness she'd caused over the past few hours, the betrayal and backstabbing, the survival at all costs, it didn't seem unreasonable for her to figure out why he now stood before her and not some murdering Vulture. Three of the bandits came from behind them though his hand didn't slip towards the revolver again. He was angry but resolute in his self-control, he wouldn't kill unless he needed to, the day had seen enough bloodshed and he wouldn't add any more to it.

They spoke with Jen for a moment, questioning who Tommy was and to his surprise Jen didn't immediately order his death. She did, however, hand a revolver to the man behind her who promptly pushed it into Tommy's back. Some bastard doing her dirty work, already under her spell, even if he meant next to nothing to her. They walked slowly, or at least he did, reluctant to arrive back at the camp. The man and Jen chatted quietly before she addressed Tommy.

"Now, let's cut the bullshit here. Why are you out here, why are you in one of my uniforms, and who'd you kill to get it?"

Tommy replied in his usual level manner.

"I'd ask you the same if you weren't dressed in Bill's clothes. Interesting that you now call them 'your' uniforms rather than the ragtag clothes of this state's most vile and sadistic killers, those who burnt towns to the ground simply for their defiance, raped, pillaged and killed for fun. These bastards are 'yours' now? You're one fucking piece of work Jen, you know that?" He could feel his anger rising and took a few moments to compose himself, breathing deeply as he did so, "I suppose I'll give you an answer though it's hardly a difficult question. I'm out here because they were going to torture me back in there," he gestured to Salida, "You remember that? When you kissed that damn priest's arse for a few moments longer in this wasteland? Yeah, well, they fucking tried to get me but the first bastard that tried to touch me got a fucking knife in his throat and I busted out. Now I've done enough running for a lifetime and I'm not going anywhere with that storm looming so I took shelter in the one place that wasn't actively looking for me- with these bastards. Killed some twat digging graves, easy cover-up, and now I'm here, talking to miss psycho dictator. That cut enough bullshit for you?"

[Maverica]

Outside Salidia,
Gared Huntzman

"Thank you sir! Thank you!" Gared Said as he folded his hands and shook them as he bowed his head.

A giant relief came over Gared as he was allowed to live again, just becouse of a old world sign and some respect. Maybe the world still has some good qualities, maybe one day when I die these dark times will be over and a new good will rise where safety is there.[i/] Thought Gared as he put on his backpack and picked up his old milita felt hat. He fingered the soft felt of the black hat untill his gaze fell to the silver Keystone badge on the hat, but he then quickly put on the hat and looked back over to the cart. He clenched his leg in pain as he bent down to lift up a wounded and blacked out Matt and lifted Matt on his back along with most of their belongings. Gared looked one more time at the cart and tipped his hat to the people as he started heading towards Salidia. [i]Well I survived a gunshot to the leg and beuing cut down. How damn lucky can I get? Thought Gared as he looked back at Matt. I need a healer now and fast, or he may not make it. Thought Gared.

As he started to walk away a loud screaming of a Lurker and the howls of Mutts, Gared turned around quickly to catch the sight of a horse run off from being spooked and them being chased and ran down by Mutts. A loud dieing neigh of the horse was heard as the Mutts teared it apart.

"Holy shit! Get to cover!" Yelled Gared as he started dashing for the woods where no creatures seemed to be but instead was met by a group of Lurkers and Mutts.

"Fuck! This is fucking bad!" Yelled Gared as he ran towards the cart still holding the white flag but not to test his luck he dove through a bush and into a ditch where he unloaded Matt and sat him down in the ditch and opened Matt's bag where Matt's pistol laided along with .45 APC rounds and 308 winchester rounds.

"I am sure he won't mind if I use this." Said Gared as he slammed a clip in Matt's pistol and one in his own Colt 1911.

Gared laided along the ditch wall and said a small prayer to God, "Please forgive me for my sins and wrong doings dear Lord. You are my armor and my sword... protect me in this upcoming battle, Amen." With the last words Gared opened his eyes and lifted his head and looked at Matt. Please Lord... if I must die today please leave Matt and these people live." Thought Gared. The growls and howls and the running of paws could be heard as Gared stood up in the ditch and picked a target. The sights landed on the body of a charging mutt as Gared pulled the cold steel trigger and with a loud bang the mutt tumbled over dead. The cold wind started blowing more as the storm grew closer, Gared started letting lose rounds of .45 APC rounds at the on coming mutts and Lurkers. The two mutts went down and a Lurker left out a deafening cold scream as it was hit by two rounds and turned towards Gared and left a deafening scream in the cold air and charged.

Outside Salidia
Jefferson "Jeff" Huntzman

A Jefferson pulled up his windbreaker as the wind blew against him. His Colt revolving rifle sat around him on it's sling made of dark leather. His old blue trucker cap sat on his head with a old logo. Behind him three other young soldiers. One, Henry was wearing a camouflaged military coat and light brown pants with a leather helmet on his head, the uniform of a Susquehanna Guardsmen. The other Jimmy was dressed the same and was also a guardsmen. The last one, Mike Ridcins was a rich militia Major who had a green wool militia coat with light brown pants and a black felt hat. Across his back was a polished M4 Carbine with a shiny wooden stock.

The group trudge along the trail towards Salidia untill they hear a loud howl and growls of mutts and Lurkers in the distance. Jefferson and the group stopped and Jeff looked back at his comrades.

"What was that!?" Asked Jeff as he spun around.

The men look at each other in silence.

"Uh... I think it's a mutt pack. Not much of a threat. Let's keep moving." Said Mike.

Jeff nodded and countinued to take point as the group trudged along. Not any trouble? What does Mike think? We have little ammunition left and no need to go in guns blaring. Thought Jeff as he marched on. Soon the group came up over the hill and seen something that shocked them all. A full blown Lurker and Mutt here was attacking a cart and a group of people. Holy shit, this can't be any good. Thought Jeff.

"Mike, what should we do? Get involved or stay low and pass by?" Asked Jeff.

Mike scratched his head.

"Uh.. Alright, we will circle around the battle and get to the side faceing Salidia and then start fireing rounds at the mutts." Said Mike as he clenched his rifle.

Jefferson nodded and the old man waved at the two guardsmen to come behind him. The group then started manuvering into a fireing position.

"Come on, keep rifles on safe." Said Jeff as they maneuvered.

[New Grestin]

-snippity-

She paused, letting Thomas finish his rant. The man before her was defiant, almost to a suicidal degree. Jen respected that, even if she couldn't abide it. Quietly, she sighed and motioned for Thomas to stop. Marching around to face Tommy, she spoke.

"I've done what I needed to to survive. Now, I need you to understand the position you've put me in. You've killed someone under my command. Normally, I wouldn't give two shits, but myself and a lot of people are interested in this working out. Eventually, someone's going to find that body and eventually, they'll figure out it was you. I don't want to have to kill you Tommy, but you've got me in a really bad spot right now."

Pausing once more, she motioned to the command tent.

"Now, come on," she said. "It's cold as shit out here."

The dull green mass stood against the howling white, occasionally blowing in the breeze. The trio made their way up to the tent, Jen holding the flap open. Tommy was nudged inside, Thomas still holding the gun on him. Not for fear of what Tommy would do, but for fear of what she would do. The interior of the tent had been converted into a small command facility; radio equipment and tables of notebooks scattered around in a disorganized mess. In the center was a large, plastic table covered in a expanded map of Colorado. Markings were painstakingly placed dictating supply routes and outposts. Most of which were being constructed on the ruins of old towns, using the materials left behind to build anew. Even without the Emperor, they were still Vultures in more ways than one.

In the corner were a set of bedrolls strewn together from whatever cloth could be scavenged. There were five altogether and Jen set about preparing three. As she did, her mind wandered to the issue of Tommy's murder. If she tried to cover it up, she knew someone would find out eventually. The best option would simply to execute him and burn the remains to ashes. He'd never be converted, even if she tried, and that made him a liability.

Thomas, on the other hand, was still unsure of what to think. The strangeness of the situation had only just now stuck him. A former acquaintance, simply dumped upon him in the midst of his solitude, now the Commander of a band of brigands? Even in his travels, he hadn't seen that before. Now what really mattered was making sure that he was on the winning side. He looked over the gun in his hand, then to Tommy. Jen cut his thoughts off, speaking again in her quiet, conserved tone.

"Alright, Tommy. Here's what we're doing. You can stay here for the duration of the storm, or you can fuck off and freeze to death. If you stick around, you're going to lay low for a while until I get this sorted out. If you start causing trouble, I won't give you any protection."

Jen turned back towards the table, sliding her jacket off and setting it aside, revealing a dirty blue T-shirt beneath. She slid into the chair, snatching a flask from one of the jacket pockets and taking a long drink. A thought popped into her mind as she did and she set the flask down, turned to Tommy and sighed. Perhaps she could mend ties before things got any worse. Rather, pretend to mend ties, at least to keep him pacified. He could never know how willing she truly was to betray him.

"You know, I didn't do what I did in Salida because I wanted to. Mackenzie threatened to kill me if I didn't. I know you believe in honor and dignity and all that, but that's just not how things work any more. Everybody's fighting dirty now."

She rose again, taking another drink.

"I know that's not much of an apology, but I did what I had to do. If you were in my position, I would've expected the same.

---

The Fortress, Oklahoma | 2017 P.O

"Uh, good morning?"

Thomas forced an awkward smile as the barrel of the gun stared him down. In the doorway was a tall, lanky man in a tattered Hawaiian shirt and an army vest. A red camouflage bandanna covered his head, coupled with a pair of dusty glasses. Thomas slowly raised his hands. The man's double barrel watched him like a wild dog, starved for blood. The man was the spitting image of Hunter S. Thompson, Thomas thought, although with a bit more meth-addict look thrown into the mix. Thomas slowly set the package down, kicking it over to the man.

He looked it over then snatched it up, keeping the gun trained on Thomas. He scanned over it for a moment and nodded. In a flash, he threw Thomas a similar package and slammed the door. Looking over the package, Thomas found it to be a shoddily wrapped and duct-taped mess. Inside he found an MRE and a package of .45 rounds. Evidently, the Dollar had lost favor in these parts, he figured.

A few steps from the building and Thomas suddenly became aware of a rumbling. It shook the ground beneath him, nearly knocking him off his feet. It only took a moment to realize what it was. Two Armored cars and a tank were pulling up to the building. The soldiers within had already begun piling out onto the empty lot. Panic filled him, terror striking deep into his heart. He did the only sensible thing he could.

He turned tail and ran for his life.

Gunfire erupted behind him like a volcano, tearing into the building that had barely a moment to respond. He dove into a ditch nearby, cowering in stark terror as the firefight continued. Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he slowly, slowly poked his head from the ditch. Other men with guns arrived, opening up on the soldiers, who had taken cover behind one of the armored cars. His eyes moved to the building, where he could see someone fumbling with something in a window. One of the soldiers, clad in desert camouflage, waved his hands frantically at it and screamed.

"RPG!"

The soldiers didn't have time to react. The rocket screamed through the air and into the armored car, blasting into the plating and blowing out the front. The soldiers behind it tumbled backwards. Some tried to make their way to cover, others simply held their ears in pain. Most of the small squad were cut down by the subsequent gunfire. Thomas watched as the tank cannon slowly rose like an angry god, then fired into the building.

Concrete and dust blasted into the air, with a rather large chunk flying by his head. Thomas threw his head down immediately, eyes wide in horror at his potential death.

He didn't poke his head up to investigate further after that.

[True Refuge]

The Evictor thought for a moment, quickly thinking about identities and alibis that he could use in that situation. He silently came to a conclusion.

"Jared. I've entered the city recently, like you. I've been around Colorado with a bunch of friends for some time, more than a decade I think." The Evictor glanced disapprovingly at William's rifle.

"I'm not the law enforcement around here, but I'm quite sure that having a gun inside now that the Vultures have stopped attacking wouldn't be allowed. I'm quite curious how you managed to get your rifle inside anyway without the guards confiscating it. I know mine got melted down earlier when the armoury exploded just a little while ago. They're quite tough here, it's like the only thing you can carry is a knife, and then that still garners suspicion. Perhaps you'd better hide it before someone who cares comes along and takes it from you. Otherwise, it's nice to meet you, and I'd prefer you'd put the gun down or at least stop gripping it like there's a murderer after you."

William nodded and fully lowered his rifle. "Sure thing. Nice to meet jou Jared."

William looks at his rifle and looks a bit worried
"I am not aware of the local rules and regulations so I pardon myself on that. This would then be the first town I've encountered that fully bans guns. I do however very much prefer to keep my rifle actually. It's a memento from my late father and it's my tool to make a living. I am a hunter after all. I don't have much skills besides hunting, searching for stuff and preparing a meal... Maybe I could offer my services here: I have hunted before in exchange for rifle rounds. Do you know anyone who would like some fresh meat?"

The Evictor/Salida, Colorado
The Evictor was quickly easing back into his façade, the easy-going lone traveller on the look for an acquaintance. He put on a small, knowing smile and pretended to think for a little while.

"Perhaps you'd better try the bar, tavern or whatever it's called around here. I'm sure they'd need some to feed their patrons. You could also go to the church, though I really wouldn't recommend that. Thinking about it, the bar would definitely be your best option for now, the trade caravan's gone or screwed because of the storm, I haven't checked, and there's a lot of fear going round, too much for any good sized market, at least one for meat, to appear. They'll probably be happy to buy and make your prey into meals for travellers like us."

The Evictor smiled and turned away.

"Nice meeting you, William. I'll be down at the tavern bar thing if you want to talk again."

He paced away, leaving William on his own again in the street.

---

The Watcher and the Vagrant walked into Salida’s bar lazily, ignoring the hubbub of the Aspenites drinking and cheering as the bartender swirled platters of drinks around. They took their seats at a table, the one furthest away from the gathering that they could get. Despite their aversion, the chatter could still be easily heard.
On the table sat a small half-filled bottle of water and several glasses. The Watcher smiled as he poured a small amount into two of the glasses and passed one to the Vagrant.
“It’s nice to see old traditions still flourish, or at least survive.” He took a small sip. “Even if it’s lukewarm, in tiny quantities and such a thing as purity no longer exists.”
He raised his glass slightly, perhaps for a toast. The Vagrant pulled his hood down and raised his water, and they clinked their drinks together. The Vagrant took a long and slow drink, his mind away from the present.
“I’ve had a thought about our bullet supplies and rent. I think it would be a good idea for us to depart soon. What we have available to us isn’t enough to keep us sheltered until the next caravan, which will arrive in quite a bit seeing this winter storm is arriving.”

“I’m bored too Sil. The idea of sitting around, unable to practise and occupy our time with swordplay doesn’t appeal to me either. Don’t try to hide it behind pragmatic finances.” He smiled, and the Vagrant lightened.
“Tell me more about what you did when I and Jimothy were away.”

“I lived here and there. I was quite lonely for the first year or two, but I found myself with those nomadic groups that spring up and disappear in the night, leaving you alone with a campfire’s embers. I was lucky that I associated with the gangs that had the morality and the cowardice to not slit my throat. By that point our legend was rapidly fading, and fewer and fewer people recognised me. It seemed everyone wanted to forget all mentions of Fairview and the Walking Men.”

“To have no one know you is better than have them hunting you.”

“That’s nowhere near an inspirational quote.”
“I can dream. Continue.”

“Travelling with those groups grew uneventful. Most of them were full of practical and fearful people, they tended to avoid bandits. So, I said my goodbyes to the group somewhere in Wyoming, and I came down back into Colorado. This was three or four years ago, I think. I took refuge in pretty much whatever I could find, although there was quite a few caves I stayed in. Colorado has quite a few of those.”
He looked down solemnly at the tiny layer of water in the glass.
“So I hung around, practised with my sword. I had some more decorations put on it, lucky I ran into a caravan that had that type of craftsmen. I wrote a journal somewhere, I think. I left it behind when I went to Aspen a few weeks ago, I thought I’d be back rather than meeting again.”

The Vagrant smiled sadly.
“There were many interesting things written down in that journal. I hope someone who remembers the Walking Men finds it. I started it only a few weeks after we got separated, I had to keep my sanity in some way.”

He paused.
“Last year, I saw one of the nomadic groups that I travelled with. Actually, it was the one I spent my longest time with. There were acquaintances, even a few that remembered and admired our antics. Some idiot, an Order believer, I think, he was new in the group, he heard the leader referring to me as my title, and he tried to shoot me. I maimed him on impulse, reflex really. Heh, he looked like he didn’t expect me to use my sword. Far as I know, that nomadic group moved to the Texas Republic or whatever’s down there, quite a few hate me now.”

He pushed his glass away, and leaned on his elbows.
“I’d prefer something harder, please.”

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Near Salida, Colorado; Joseph Foley
The howls came along with the realization that his shot had brought them running to the wagon like a ringing dinner bell. Foley cursed under his breath has he dropped from the back of the wagon onto the ground, with a slight crunch of snow. Movement to his left brought his gaze and rifle to two Lurkers, accompanied by a trio of mutts running amidst sprays of snow. The Lurker's looked healthy enough as far as Lurkers went, their skin wasn't stretched as tightly as starving Lurkers and by their galloping trot, they still had much energy despite venturing out from wherever their nest was. There was also the fact that these infected possessed no clothing, telling him that they were born from first or possibly second generation Lurkers. However, the fact was young or old, they were still charging him, so Foley let the unnecessary information leave his mind as he tracked the closest target; a German Shepard whose exposed ribcage and wild eyes gave the impression it was close to death. Foley completed the process as he pulled the trigger once and the mutt's feet went limp as it crashed forward into the snow and slid leaving behind a scarlet trail on the white ground.

The recoil of the rifle and the sharp cracks of the gunshots blended into Foley's mind as he dispatched the next Mutt with a round that smashed apart it's teeth and blew out the back of the dog's skull; the mutt;s legs splayed out as it lost motor control and fell, however the leg's tripped the next mutt causing it to stumble and allowing for Foley to reward the slip-up with two rounds that broke it's spine. With the mutts gone Foley, turned his attention to the real threats, the Lurker's that were now spreading apart in a pincer like formation. Foley chose the run on the right first and gave the galloping lurker four rounds that ran from it's waist up to below the armpit. turning Foley brought the rifle up and pulled the trigger based on where he last saw the Lurker in the peripheral and was rewarded with...nothing, as the round threw up powdery snow from where it tore into the empty ground.

What the hell?" A low growl to his left caused Foley to turn as the Lurker scurried out from underneath the wagon and launched itself against the former marine. The rifle fell away uselessly as it's sling was torn by the Lurker causing the AK to fly away to what may have been Alaska for all that it helped Foley now. The ground came up fast and it even with it's white cushion of snow, it still jarred Foley as he threw up his right arm and shoved it into the Lurker's throat as his elbow kept a steel grip away while his left wrapped itself as tight as he could manage around the Lurker's right wrist and jerked to the left away from the body. However, gravity, age and the inevitable worked against him as he knew that in seconds the Lurker would regain the momentum and break his temporary hold on the infected. So Foley did something that was similar to the words that still haunted his dreams.

"GET IT OFF ME!!!!!" He screamed through the hood as the Lurker roared and pulled up and back to free it's right hand, which came free with a triumphant snarl by the infected.

[Wallenburg]

Hugh Garmany || 28 October 2042 || Outside Salida, Colorado

Hugh soon realized that they would not be able to evade the monsters. Mutts and lurkers scampered through the forest, closing in. The river was behind them, a barrier to any hope of fleeing. And Lauren was shot. Even if Hugh could take the horse and ride to safety, he would be leaving his wife to die. He could not bear to think of such a selfish act.

The tortured death cries of the wandering horse snapped Hugh from his thoughts and directed his attention to the forest not twenty meters away. Quickly, Hugh freed the horse he sat on from its harness and wrapped the reins around his waist. He raised his rifle and fired at the mutts, littering their bodies over the lost horse. He kicked the horse forward and it galloped down the road. A lurker jumped before them and Hugh brought his horse to a stop, firing a stream of bullets into its body, spattering the pure snow with bright crimson. Their blood mixed with that of the dead horse as Hugh coaxed his mount back toward the carriage.

As he approached, he could see that the beasts were surrounding the group. Those that had weapons were fighting, taking out infected as quickly as possible. But the power of the lurkers was overwhelming. Hugh watched as one brought down Foley and stood up, prepared to feast.

"Get it off of me!" shouted Foley, and Hugh immediately leveled his M16 at the creature. He squeezed the trigger and held down, letting bullets pelt the monster's hide and tear apart its internal organs. The rifle clicked as he ran out of ammunition, and Hugh discarded the empty magazine. "Foley, you all right?"

He heard a growl to his left and looked only to see a mutt pouncing at him. The creature knocked him from the horse and into the snow, his rifle unloaded and his knife back in the carriage.

"Help! Somebody!" Hugh struggled with the mutt, but could only push it so far that its teeth would not sink into his stomach. It snarled and barked at him, eyes mad with hunger, mouth dripping blood over Hugh's uniform. Then there was a gunshot and the mutt tumbled off of Hugh, spraying blood over his face as the bullet passed through the creature's skull.

Hugh looked back at the carriage. Lauren was holding onto a gun, fighting the pain in her leg and focusing on targets. She fired another bullet into the forest--perhaps at another mutt--but her strength was clearly waning. Hugh climbed back on the horse, equipped a new magazine to his rifle, and brought the horse to a gallop, rushing for the carriage.

[The Lowlands and Saxony]

William waved Jared goodbye and pondered on the things he has said.

A contradiction plagues his mind. It apparently is prohibited to carry weapons but there should be people wanting to hire him for his services as a hunter. And he couldn't possibly go hunting without his rifle. Hell he probably wouldn't feel comfortable about doing anything without his trusty bolt-action rifle. He is so attached to it that he'd rather take a leak with his rifle within a arms reach...The things that can kill you can present itself at the most unexpected moments.

This is why even though Jared seems friendly, he still was in a stance to shoulder his rifle in a moments notice. But that probably isn't the smartest idea when he would visit the pub. He'd either be thrown out or shot before he should even set foot in the joint with his rifle like that. With this train of thought he slung his rifle onto his back. This should keep the inhabitants of Salida a tad more at ease. He still had his father's pistol in his waistband behind his back so he could still respond quickly is such a thing is necessary.

William started walking and looking around the town. Soon enough he found the place Jared was talking about. William thought for a bit on how to introduce himself and his services without having to stare down a barrel of a gun. The idea that would bring the solution to this question was quickly found. He took the hare he shot the day before he reached Salida and held it by his hind legs. He kept his right hand clear in case he needed to draw his pistol and gently opened the door and stepped in, curious to who and how soon somebody would notice his presence.

[True Refuge]

<SNIP>

The Walking Men//The Bar, Salida, Colorado
The Evictor glided into the Walking Men's little party clutching three beers, one of which looked ready to fall out of his hands and cause a scene as he placed them in front of the table.
"And now you open up about your little stint going solo," the Evictor sighed, "It's been a while since I've had anything like this. Some ridiculous vow from our idealistic young adult minds that alcohol would inhibit our fighting ability." He took a large swig and wiped his mouth with the back of a glove. "Well, we were quite right, but we three missed out on a couple of things."

The Vagrant smiled, sort of sadly, at the Evictor's arrival. He took a small sip and winced slightly as it burned.
"My god, not experiencing that sting for fourteen years definitely sets you up for some surprise." He coughed quietly and downed a whole glass of water. "I have a feeling I'll be one of those people that never get past a low tolerance."

The Evictor smiled back and leaned back onto his chair. His eyes brightened quickly.
"Your complaints bring something to mind, Sil," he said as he turned his head to the Watcher, "Do you remember coffee, Alex?"

The Watcher looked up in surprise.
"Coffee? Are you talking about the cafes or the dirt from the service stations?"

The Walking Men laughed merrily.
"Eighty cents for an espresso from a dispenser sold at the Sunday markets, my god. That’s not a fond memory.”
“I remember you always acting so damn fancy at the corner shop,” laughed the Evictor.
He waved his hands around jokingly as he said in a silly voice, “One medium half-strength cappuccino, one sugar, and not too much froth please.”
“What? I was raised by an elitist family.” The Watcher suddenly looked guiltily at the Vagrant.

“You think I’m saddened by family talk? It’s been twenty-seven years of therapy for me, there’s not that remains from the memory capacity of a five year old. It’s fine.”
The Evictor put on a face of exaggerated shock at this comment.
“Says the twenty-seven years mute. I at least thought you were traumatized and would be for the rest of your life, albeit it be interesting travelling with us.”
The Watcher held up his hands in mock anger. “And we didn’t get much chance to talk about the past, we thought you’d get upset.”

The Vagrant laughed heartily. “Or perhaps you could have tried after only waiting a few weeks after Jake.”
“Now there’s a story of the Walking Men.”
“Quite a tale. I told a heavily edited version to those nomadic groups from earlier, using that darned notebook.”
The Watcher quietly gave the Evictor some context while the Vagrant continued.
“I took out all the bits about me killing the couple of guys I stabbed through the stomach, just emphasized how you came in and saved the day before anyone else got killed.”

“But most of them ended up dead anyway,” said the Evictor curiously.
“That’s what most of the nomadic groups said after I’d finished”, the Vagrant replied, “Oh yeh, forgot to tell you earlier, I learnt a lot about how much the legend was known. Unluckily for me, the nomads pointed out that I had killed half of them. My sword glinted right after they finished reminding me of what I did.”

He sipped his beer, savouring the sting as much as he could when it was home-brewed and terrible.
“Oh yes, I should tell you a bit more about the trip with the Aspenites. Cain and I were actually friendly acquaintances for a little while, ha. It’s quite lucky that when I told him that I was a Walking Man he didn’t kill him on the spot. During those nightly campfires, I was edgy as edgy could be, sitting next to the flames, cleaning the blade. I was still pretty sore from that idiot Order believer the year before.” He laughed forcibly. “I’ve gone through quite a change in the last few weeks, hey?”

The Evictor smiled back sadly. “You have. It’ll take us a little while to get used to it. How’s your voice doing, by the way?”

“Quite a bit stronger now. It really did hurt at the beginning, but now I can bore you all with stories like that.”

“That’s better than expanding the Walking Men’s body trail,” said the Watcher as he rested a finished beer on the table.
“Anyways, on the first or second day of the expedition, I think Sera and Jennifer got separated and went to some cabin in the woods near Aspen. A few infected later, a brute comes in, barrelling through the trees and screaming its head off. I’ve lost that whistle as well, damnit. I shattered one of its knees and Luke shot the other. I believe a fellow called Wolf, you haven’t met him since he disappeared soon after, he went crazy and stabbed what was left of the brute a few dozen times.”

The Evictor scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, “Sounds like something we did every day.”

The Walking Men laughed merrily.
“When was the last time we had a chat like this? Thirteen years ago?” asked the Watcher to no one in particular.
“You suggest we wasted our time?” said the Evictor jokingly.
“No, of course not. It’s just… we took ourselves too seriously, I think, we thought we could never have the causal friend relationship in a world like this.”

A bartender arrived with more drinks and looked curiously at the three heavy-cloaked and loud diners, and left to continue tending to the Aspenites.

“Well, Watcher and Vagrant, now we do, and we can drown our sorrows together.”

[Partially Blind People]

"I've done what I needed to to survive. Now, I need you to understand the position you've put me in. You've killed someone under my command. Normally, I wouldn't give two shits, but myself and a lot of people are interested in this working out. Eventually, someone's going to find that body and eventually, they'll figure out it was you. I don't want to have to kill you Tommy, but you've got me in a really bad spot right now."

"Now, come on," she said. "It's cold as shit out here."

Tommy was pushed into the command tent by the gun at his back. He stayed rigid, not willing to give in to the intimidation as he strode in. The place was a mess, maps and other equipment strewn about the place, though he expected little more from bandits, how they conducted a military operation at all bemused him. A large map in the middle of the tent showed some promise, however. The bandits had some plan about Colorado at least, though the crude markings showed little real thought.

Jen took some bedrolls from the corner and prepared them whilst the man with the gun seemed to daze into space, clearly locked in his own thoughts. Tommy deliberated on making a move, on taking the gun and killing them both now before escaping into the night, but did nothing as he found it to be futile- if the other bandits didn't get him, the storm most certainly would. Jen borught him back to reality.

"Alright, Tommy. Here's what we're doing. You can stay here for the duration of the storm, or you can fuck off and freeze to death. If you stick around, you're going to lay low for a while until I get this sorted out. If you start causing trouble, I won't give you any protection."

She removed her jacket and sat down, taking a flask and drinking from it. Tommy stared for a moment, it hadn't occured to him how small she was before. The typical New World young adult- undernourished, stunted, an adult that barely managed to get there. His childhood had been far more sheltered- life as the son of a general gave him that priviledge. He'd always been comfortable, sometimes even luxurious. He'd been able to go to school, even if it was a New World school, he was educated and to a good standard to. His father used to say he'd make a good professor in the old world. Jen hadn't had that opporunity. Here he stood expecting her to go against everything she'd ever known in survival.

"You know, I didn't do what I did in Salida because I wanted to. Mackenzie threatened to kill me if I didn't. I know you believe in honor and dignity and all that, but that's just not how things work any more. Everybody's fighting dirty now. I know that's not much of an apology, but I did what I had to do. If you were in my position, I would've expected the same."

He took a seat slowly, making sure the man wasn't going to shoot him. He sighed slightly before speaking.

"You know what Jen, I understand. You aren't from where I'm from, things aren't the same for you." He paused for a moment, considering his next words, "I understand it's about survival, about coming out on top no matter the cost, but siding with bandits? Even you know that's not just survival." He sighed again, "If you're going to kill me, at least let me drink the night away first."

[The Nameless Wayfarer]

Wolfgang Magnusson // Salida Church, Colorado

"And what exactly would it be that you are looking for, my child?" Father Mackenzie gestured towards the room's many guards as he took a sip of tea from his rather pristine cup. He continued, "Because, with an entrance like that you are very fortunate that you weren't given a swift death."

Wolfgang let his hands drift down to his belt and hooked his fingers through it's loops. He let out a light sigh as he began to slowly pace around the room, examining the various objects that littered the chapel.

"I've no want or need to talk about fortune, Father. I'd much rather talk about business," Wolfgang said as he idly examined a gold-colored crucifix mounted on one of the room's many walls. "Despite your thrilling victory, Bill and his merry band of bandits still put a sizable dent in your town's defenses," he stated with a tone as nonchalant as ever.

Magnusson cocked his head in Mackenzie's direction, "Salida's lost a great deal of its minefield - which, quite frankly, was the only thing keeping the Vultures from marching into your quaint settlement and razing it to the ground. If you tack on the butchering of nearly half of your militia, as well as your formerly plentiful munitions stores being depleted severely, you've got yourself a blatant issue." With an unreadable face and a smiling voice, he approached Mackenzie. "Luckily, I consider myself a specialist in solving the issues of others."

"From what I've gathered, Saldia's going to need more hands-on-deck, so to speak; and it's going to need them desperately. I could help you and your people, Father... provided I'm given the right incentives and resources, of course."

[New Grestin]

"You know what Jen, I understand. You aren't from where I'm from, things aren't the same for you." He paused for a moment, considering his next words, "I understand it's about survival, about coming out on top no matter the cost, but siding with bandits? Even you know that's not just survival." He sighed again, "If you're going to kill me, at least let me drink the night away first."

She laughed, taking a quick swig from the metal canteen before tossing it to the man. The harsh liquid burned her throat as she spoke, smiling.

"Of course this isn't about survival, dude. This is about changing things, making so that we never have to scavenge for scraps ever again. All these people have ever understood is killing, when they could accomplish so much more. Think about what it would mean if we could reclaim Denver? We could built something great."

Jen spoke with an air of bravado that she didn't think she had in her. She motioned out into the storm. The swirling winds of ice and sleet bashed against the tents outside, battering them like rocks on a beach. Her eyes caught the movement of a few Vulture troopers carrying supplies, armaments and an assortment of food. Something clicked in her mind. Control was one thing, but people would rebel against total control. She'd learned enough from the coup that total control only led to disaster. She didn't want to be gunned down in the middle of the woods like her predecessor. A ruler of the people, for the people. Everyone would be equal under her rule. Bill's rule had been defined by corrupt nepotism. Hers would be defined by equality. Corruption would play a role in her command as well, but the time for that would come.

Her father had died to bring her to this point, to keep her alive. The very least she could do was make something of it.

Thomas milled about the tent, letting Jen discuss ethics with the man. His mind wandered as he looked over the maps and notebooks accumulated from what he could only assume was a long night of planning. The large map of Colorado, upon which Jen had planted her feet, had many markings. Trade routes wormed along the interstate roads, all centering around Denver. Another map nearby showed the city proper. Coors laid at the center of the plans, with schematics for fortifications and structures clipped onto it. It was a hodgepodge of plans and ideas, but whatever Jen was doing, it had a purpose. His eyes flicked back to the map of Colorado; his heart sank. Salida was circled with red marker, painstakingly crossed out with red marker. Alongside it was a cross, also marked out and accompanied with a note.

Burn.

"Besides," she laughed, nearly making Thomas jump out of his pants. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've already done it by now." He sighed with relief when he realized that she hadn't directed it at him. She was still fixated on the prisoner. He couldn't tell her game, even after days of living around her on the road. She spoke to the main with the air of a cat, toying with it's prey, and yet her words seemed genuine. He guessed that she didn't intend to kill the man, at least until she'd made use of him. Thomas's heart sank. His mind connected the dots. If he was right, then this woman was using him. Whether or not she'd discard him like a plaything remained to be seen.

---

Vulture Encampment | 2042 P.O

The man moaned with pain; a soundtrack that Doc had become quite used to in his line of work. Surgical experience was a valuable commodity and it had done wonders for his lifespan. He slowly, carefully cut the sutures away, sealing the wound shut. The odds of an infection were high and their stores of medicine were quite low. Doc stood, collecting his tools into a small leather case. A few aging scalpels and pair of scissors greeted him, their stainless steel compatriot being slid into it's place with the others. Doc smiled. There was a certain harmony to the organization, to keeping things they way he wanted them. He popped the case into his dirty labcoat and moved along the tent.

Dead and dying forms littered the tent. Most couldn't be saved and died, agonized and afraid. Others were close behind, facing death for a myriad of reasons. Gunshots, burns, even simple exposure and disease reaped their deathly crop. Explosive wounds were always the worst. Seeing limbs shattered and ripped to shreds still made him shudder. The blasts had been indiscriminate in their assault. An explosion, Doc recalled, would often kill simply by overwhelming the body's systems on top of the obvious physical damage. It was like they flipped an "off" switch in your brain that made everything go haywire. At least, that was how he remembered one of the other doctors putting it. Most physicians could go their entire lives without seeing a man's open stomach. Doc got to witness it every day. He passed one man, lower body ripped to pieces as he laid in a cot, slowly bleeding to death in a pool of his own feces. Another man howled in pain, screaming about an arm that was long since missing. One of Doc's apprentices, an Amazon, tried to tend to the man.

She was one of several whom the good Doctor had taken under his wing. Individuals that he entrusted to carry on his knowledge. Old world medicine was like magic to the new generation. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." He remembered reading that once. The sentiment seemed to ring all the more true in recent years. He'd once seen a man's jaw drop at the mere sight of a functioning IV. Doc wanted to laugh. Something so mundane to him, something he'd used almost every day and it made him look like goddamned Merlin to these people.

He felt like he should enjoy his revered position, but a part of him, deep down, knew it was still just for survival. He kept that in mind as he knelt down and started bandaging a woman's torn, ragged stump of a hand.

[Peace Loving Warlords]

Church of the Golden Dawn//Salida// Colorado

(snippy)

Mackenzie watched in amusment as the giant paced about his church, calmly explaining himself to the holyman. While he certiainly didn't apreciate Magnusson's sarcasm, Mackenzie was pleasantly suprised by his demenure given his entrance just moments prior. He had expected him to be some newworld barbarian looking to just waltz into his church and declare himself cheiftan of Salida, but instead Mackenzie was being barganed with by a man who despite his size was begining to remind him of a younger version of himself. No matter what Magnusson intended to betray himself as however as Mackenzie had no intention of being lectured like a child infront of his followers.

Despite himself Mackenzie smerked, he was going to enjoy putting this one in his place.

"Then its a good thing that are issues are growing simpler by the day." Mackenzie's smile only grew, into a full blown smile as he rose from his seat and began to walk towards Wolf.

"Bill's dead." Mackenzie allowed his words to sink in as he stood next to Wolf and looked him in the eyes, his cold blue orbs taking a moment to scan over the giant up close.

"I dispatched one of my infeltraiters into his ranks, and from there it was only child's play to have her execute the Vulture's leadership and disapear into the comming store while his rodents busied themselves here." Mackenzie turned and began to start walking towards his back office.

"We arn't as defenceless as you've imagined us to be Mr.Magnusson." Mackenzie looked over his shoulder at Wolf as he finished his tea before speaking again, alowing another bit of information slip to rattle the giant from his high horse.

"Now come along, I imagine you'll be wanting to discuss our arangements for that woman of yours and those two friends of yours before the storm sets in fully."

[Kazirstan]

Ivana Plečnik // Salida

Ivana's eyes followed Wolf until the large man walked around a corner, out of sight. She gave a faint sigh, and beneath her scarf, her lips twisted into a concerned frown.

He'll be back, it's safe here.

At least that's what she told herself. After Aspen and Junction, after Beinfait all those years ago, she couldn't really believe that any place was truly safe.

Ivana's eyes remained glued to the street corner where Wolf had walked out of sight, until she was wrenched out of her reverie by Locust's voice.

"So either of you two know where this place we're meant to go is? 'Cause I sure as all hell don't. Never liked settlements. Too many people sitting in a half opened can." His voice had trailed off into quiet mumbling by the end.

She looked back at Locust, then looked around the settlement. The three of them were standing in what was once a four-way intersection. The traffic lights, long burnt out, were still hanging from their rusted supports. Upon the street corners stood several pre-outbreak buildings, presumably once businesses, that had been converted into housing for the residents. One such building was partially painted in faded and chipped yellow, and had the remains of a sign with two large, yellow arches in the parking lot. She had seen buildings, or remains of buildings, like this in almost every city and town she had passed through. An old woman she met in Aspen told her that there were thousands of these buildings all over the world, even across the oceans, that gave millions of people food every day. Ivana didn't believe her of course.

Near the end of one of the cracked, empty streets, she could make out a maleshift sign hanging over the overgrown sidewalk that read simply: Bar.

"Over there." Ivana said, pointing down the street.

Gesturing for Snow and Locust to follow her, the trio proceeded down the old street towards the bar. The wind was quickly picking up, and Ivana jogged the last few metres to the front door to get out of the cold. A bell on the door jingled as she opened it, and a few of the patrons looked toward the door as she walked over the threshold, but most remained absorbed in their drinks or conversations, os simply didn't care.

Pulling the scarf down off her face, Ivana sauntered over to the bar. She ordered three beers from the bartender.

"He'll be paying." Ivana pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Locust.

She handed one drink each to Locust and Snow, and took a sip of her own. It tasted like piss, but she kept drinking anyway. Perhaps she was just spoiled by Dean's (much better) brew. Looking around the bar, Ivana began to notice familiar faces, Aspenites. Finally, she noticed a very distinctive group at the other end of the bar. It was the edgy swordsman, the Vagrant he called himself, and his two buddies.

Surprised, Ivana, walked over to the group, currently conversing rather noisily, and leaned her hip against the bar, taking another sip out of her glass of piss.

"Hey bud, long time no see," she said sarcastically. He wasn't her "bud", and it couldn't have been any more than a week since she had seen him last. "I see you've made it to Salida, where's the rest of them?" She was referring to Mercer, Sera, Hugh, Lauren and the rest of the Aspenites, a few of which she could see in the bar already.

[Partially Blind People]

Tommy Paine, outside Salida

"Of course this isn't about survival, dude. This is about changing things, making so that we never have to scavenge for scraps ever again. All these people have ever understood is killing, when they could accomplish so much more. Think about what it would mean if we could reclaim Denver? We could build something great."

She threw the canteen at him, which he caught and drank steadily from, feeling the warm liquid trickle down his throat, burning slightly as it warmed his freezing insides.

"Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I would've already done it by now."

She laughed as she spoke, as though she were toying with him, teasing him by showing her apparent power. It had little effect. He'd met people with real power, people that could make his life hell far more than Jen and her motley crew could. He took another long swig from the canteen before handing it back to her, mirroring her laugh as he began to speak.

"You think you can turn a bunch of raping, murdering, plundering bastards into a cohesive society?" He shook his head slightly, "Jen it took the fucking British army 6 years to turn Detroit into something that resembled a law-abiding city. 20 more to civilise the area around it and we're still more of a loose collection of fortified towns than a nation. Do you really think you on your own can turn a bunch of disunited tribes into anything close? Heck, half the towns that you'd need support from have just been burnt down and their people murdered."

He strolled over to the map, looking through the plans and details. He noted Salida in particular.

"This really is a monumental task." He sighed, "And I don't think there's enough drink in that canteen to manage it."

[True Refuge]

Ivana Plečnik // Salida

Ivana's eyes followed Wolf until the large man walked around a corner, out of sight. She gave a faint sigh, and beneath her scarf, her lips twisted into a concerned frown.

He'll be back, it's safe here.

At least that's what she told herself. After Aspen and Junction, after Beinfait all those years ago, she couldn't really believe that any place was truly safe.

Ivana's eyes remained glued to the street corner where Wolf had walked out of sight, until she was wrenched out of her reverie by Locust's voice.

"So either of you two know where this place we're meant to go is? 'Cause I sure as all hell don't. Never liked settlements. Too many people sitting in a half opened can." His voice had trailed off into quiet mumbling by the end.

She looked back at Locust, then looked around the settlement. The three of them were standing in what was once a four-way intersection. The traffic lights, long burnt out, were still hanging from their rusted supports. Upon the street corners stood several pre-outbreak buildings, presumably once businesses, that had been converted into housing for the residents. One such building was partially painted in faded and chipped yellow, and had the remains of a sign with two large, yellow arches in the parking lot. She had seen buildings, or remains of buildings, like this in almost every city and town she had passed through. An old woman she met in Aspen told her that there were thousands of these buildings all over the world, even across the oceans, that gave millions of people food every day. Ivana didn't believe her of course.

Near the end of one of the cracked, empty streets, she could make out a maleshift sign hanging over the overgrown sidewalk that read simply: Bar.

"Over there." Ivana said, pointing down the street.

Gesturing for Snow and Locust to follow her, the trio proceeded down the old street towards the bar. The wind was quickly picking up, and Ivana jogged the last few metres to the front door to get out of the cold. A bell on the door jingled as she opened it, and a few of the patrons looked toward the door as she walked over the threshold, but most remained absorbed in their drinks or conversations, os simply didn't care.

Pulling the scarf down off her face, Ivana sauntered over to the bar. She ordered three beers from the bartender.

"He'll be paying." Ivana pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Locust.

She handed one drink each to Locust and Snow, and took a sip of her own. It tasted like piss, but she kept drinking anyway. Perhaps she was just spoiled by Dean's (much better) brew. Looking around the bar, Ivana began to notice familiar faces, Aspenites. Finally, she noticed a very distinctive group at the other end of the bar. It was the edgy swordsman, the Vagrant he called himself, and his two buddies.

Surprised, Ivana, walked over to the group, currently conversing rather noisily, and leaned her hip against the bar, taking another sip out of her glass of piss.

"Hey bud, long time no see," she said sarcastically. He wasn't her "bud", and it couldn't have been any more than a week since she had seen him last. "I see you've made it to Salida, where's the rest of them?" She was referring to Mercer, Sera, Hugh, Lauren and the rest of the Aspenites, a few of which she could see in the bar already.

The conversation withered and died quickly. The Evictor and the Watcher stayed silent, waiting for the Vagrant to speak. He settled his now empty drink, and turned his head towards Ivana. He peered closely at her, and gears turned slowly inside his head.

"Ivana?" he said in his soft voice and turned back to the Walking Men, "Hmph, I wish I could say it was good to meet you again, but it's more neutral than good, at least going by your hostility. As for the Aspenites, Cain loathes us, Sera's probably with him wherever they are, and I really don't have a clue where everyone else is." He poured a water.

"They could be dead for whatever little I and my colleagues know. And yes, I'm talking, unlike the edgy hooded figure from a week or two ago. I've only recently healed from a childhood trauma, a tale that used to be a large part of our legend, and one of the main reasons I'm usually the most despised out of the three of us when someone remembers what we used to be. That's quite a story I'd love to tell, I'm not currently in need of any more friends or colleagues then I have, and the loss of Cain's favour has shocked me slightly and so reduced my want for outside friendship. Although, you'd probably not be interested in the stories I or my fellow Walking Men have to offer, so I'd offer you this."
The Vagrant turned towards Ivana and smirked slightly.
"Honestly, I believe you could drop the tough-girl persona, I do clearly remember you acting quite different from now, especially when that Wolf guy was around."

The Evictor and the Watcher smiled silently, but otherwise did not react to this stab. The Vagrant's smile was a little larger than theirs, although he quickly killed it.

"Apologies if that offends you, I couldn't resist. It's been such a long time since I've traded banter, even if it is going to be one-way." He clasped his hands together. "Unless you've got a jibe to throw back at me."
He waved his hand apologetically.
"Of course, I don't mean any hard feelings toward you or Wolf. May I ask what everyone's up to recently?"

The Evictor butted in quickly, eager to not lose his say among all the questions.

"How is Wolf, by the way? The Vagrant's told us some rather good stories about everyone's Brute encounter back at Aspen. That's quite an amazing tale."

[The Lowlands and Saxony]

William stood there in the bar, still and silently.

There were a few people there but apparently nobody noticed him entering the bar. This is surprising to him: People are laid back and at ease enough to not jump at every unexpected sound. Maybe this town is pretty safe then if his assumptions are true.

He set a few paces forward and coughed a bit to get his voice in order.

"Good afternoon gentleman." He lifts up the dead hare to show his intend. "Who would like to hire a hunter for hunting and firearm maintenance? Food and ammunition are accepted for barter."

[Derelldia]

Locust followed Ivana and Snow to the bar. Locust looked around as they walked down the old street, mostly run down looking buildings lining the place, snow on the ground crunching under their feet as the walked. Nothing unusual from previous winters when Locust has had to hide in a town.

The bell rang as the three of them entered the bar. A few faces turned to look when the bell rang, most didn't notice or didn't care. The noise of all the conversations going on, mixed with the smell of the bar, was an almost assault on Locust's senses. He didn't enjoy it. Much rather be sitting outside than dealing with this. But alas...

"He'll be paying." Ivana pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Locust.

"Oh how cruel fate can be." Locust muttered before sighing and then having a drink put into his hands. He walked up to the bar after Ivana and Snow cleared the way. "So how much would that be?" He said setting his beer down on the bar and shoving his hands in his pockets. Pulling out numerous things like bullets and cigarette packs, which he set on the bar beside his drink. The bartender took the assorted stuff from off the bar and Locust took that as a sign to take the drink and go to the others. As Locust turned around to see where Ivana and Snow had got to, just as someone had entered to and began talking.

"Good afternoon gentleman." He lifts up the dead hare to show his intend. "Who would like to hire a hunter for hunting and firearm maintenance? Food and ammunition are accepted for barter."

Locust tilted his head slightly at the sight of the person holding the dead hare. He walked over to the person, "Kid, put the rabbit away. You look like an idiot." He passed the beer to the stranger. "Basically, shut up, sit down, have a pint to drink. Nobody overly cares for a hunter at the moment with a storm coming in, unless you're offering that gun to be used on more than wilderness creatures."

[The Lowlands and Saxony]

William flopped the hare down on the bar, having a free hand to pick up the beer.

He takes a drink from the beer, wondering on what his man had to offer. Hopefully it won't be anything sinister like a hired kill but if it pays enough he could consider it. He has already seen to much to remain perfectly sane. The line between human and undead has blurred through the years... They looked the same and sometimes humans could be just as stupid as a lurker walking into the same wall over and over again. At first he swore to keep his gun human-friendly but since some people think otherwise, he did have to shoot a raider or two to get to where he is now. In one piece.

"Well, I can do more then just hunt. Pest extermination, gun maintenance, rifle training, pest extermination or plain and simple guard duty. It it gives me enough resources to stay alive and kicking I am willing to look into it."

[The Nameless Wayfarer]

Wolfgang Magnusson // Salida Church, Colorado

"Then its a good thing that are issues are growing simpler by the day," said Mackenzie, as Wolfgang watched the elderly man's smug face stretch with a wrinkled grin. The wanderer from the north could only watch as the Father rose from his seat and began to walk towards him with fire in his eyes.

The old codger still has some wit in him, does he?

The holiest of Salida's flock had loaded his rebuttal into his gun - which was filled with stinging, sly words - and he shot it straight at Magnusson without faltering the slightest. Wolfgang listened to his talk, patiently; and somewhat surprised, to say the least. He didn't expect Mackenzie to have such an agile mind. Magnusson couldn't help but feel a tinge of respect for such a worthy opponent. Indeed, Father Mackenzie was a quick-thinking man with a tongue as sharp as a sword.

Once the preacher had finished his sermon, the tall warrior simply clapped, sending a rhythm of smacking noises that echoed throughout the otherwise still halls.

Mackenzie turned his back to him and began walking toward his office, smiling ear to ear.

Wolfgang spoke, his voice reverberating throughout the church, "I'd be inclined to believe you Father, if it weren't for the talk of your townspeople."

He let those words sink in before he continued his retaliation.

"I hear that the new Empress harbors as much love for you as Bill did - which, obviously, isn't much."

Wolf walked forward and found his place next to Mackenzie, like a vicious hound at the feet of a master he truly resented, and said, "She'll be a threat to you, your ideals, and of course, your vision." He continued, "Salida already has a strong leader in you; however, words are but one piece of a successful regime. You're going to need an army, Father."

"My companions and I are hardly your ideal officers - but we're the only people who can foreseeably come close to getting the job done. Ivana has hunted, tracked, and stalked these wastes since her birth. Snow may be young, but he's the most stealthy person I've ever encountered. And me? I'm like you: a man who knows what he wants, and I'll do anything to get it."

Wolfgang's voice broke into a slight growl, "Grant me your support, and I will help you seize your glory, Mackenzie. All I need are recruits, equipment, and your blessing."