A Means to an End [Chapter 1: False Hope] (IC)

[Introvertska]

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A Portal 2 The Multiverse Production

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Directed and Written by Introvertska

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A Special Thanks To: Whittington and Galdius

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A Means to an End

May 4th, 2015: A large cargo plane crashes directly into New York City, carrying a deadly and infectious virus.
1st Week: Infection begins in New York City, by Friday, the entire city is infected, and the dead begin rise. 1,583,290 dead
2nd Week: Infection spreads along the Eastern Seaboard and travels via airplanes to the West Coast. 13,194,990 dead
3rd Week: Infection spreads to animals, cattle and livestock begin to die. 20,492,010 dead
4th Week: Infection spreads to plants, crops begin to wither, food supplies deplete dramatically. 26,991,082 dead
5th Week: Random mutations in the virus produce symptoms of insomnia and paranoia. 39,198,990 dead
6th Week: Foreign aid is repealed from outside nations. The U.S. Government begins to fall apart. 68,392,091 dead
7th Week: Rapid depletion in sanitation and the infection of rodents causes the virus to spread exponentially 128,191,190 dead
8th Week: US is considered a complete failure. Borders locked down by Foreign Governments and entry is declined. British Special Forces groups sent in to help extract anyone still alive. 198,599,201 dead
9th Week: A group of survivors in Northern Alabama set out to survive. 295,288,910 dead

On May 4th, at approximately 9:02 AM, a cargo plane bound for San Francisco, does a complete U-Turn in flight and crashes at a ninety degree angle in New York City, a mile North of the new "One World Trade Center" Skyscraper. What exactly the plane was carrying and who was flying the plane was unknown and was never released due to the rapid spread of the virus. As the virus spread from North to South, and then from East to West, the CDC could do little but sit and watch with wide eyes- clueless- as the infection killed millions in mere weeks. Though some cure research was done, no results ever came from it, and eventually, the CDC building's self-decontamination sequence was activated, and the building was set alight, taking with it any clues to a possible cure. As the virus spread faster and faster and killed off people by the hour, panic set in and riots were started all over the country, looting was in full spring and murders were very high, all of this only raising the infection rate. Not late after, the infection spread to plants and animals, which effectively eliminated a source of food to the nation and sent a crippling blow down the Government's back at maintaining the peace. The nation devolved into a primitive state as more and more died off of infection.

Soon, the people were left to fend for themselves with little aid from Foreign Nations and nothing coming from the US Government as it rapidly deteriorated. The people were left to search for their own means to an end...survival.

Vehicles:
Ural - Space Available: 4/4 - Driver Open? No. (Introvertska(Driver), Nationine, Galdius)
RV 1 - Space Available: 3/6 - Driver Open? No. (Marsisian (Driver), Kratu, Kolmya)
RV 2 - Space Available: 1/6 - Driver Open? No (NPC).
Transporter - Space Available: 3/5 - Driver Open? No. (Uitbregen, Calces millia(Driver))
Wrangler - Space Available: 3/4 - Driver Open? No. (Cylarn(Driver), Mincaldenteans, Mizrad)
Silverado - Space Available: 2/6 - Driver Open? No. (Lunas Legion(Driver))

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July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:30 AM

"Victory at all costs,
victory in spite of all terror,
victory however long and hard the road may be;
for without victory,
there is no survival."
- Winston Churchill

As the early morning hours began, the sun just barely started to peek over the horizon, its comforting heat casting away the cold night's air. Marcus stood at the back of the Ural Supply Truck at the front of the convoy, his hands propping himself up on the tailgate and his head bowed between his shoulders. He'd been up before everyone else, even made special care not to wake the people in the back of the Ural sleeping. He had a map sprawled out between his hands, a compass, and a pen, marking their path as he planned for the road ahead. Soon, Karissa quietly emerged from the passenger seat of the Ural and walked back to Marcus with a blanket still wrapped around her. She put one arm around his back, covering him with the blanket as well and the other arm gripped his upper arm, her chin resting on his shoulder as she watched him mark the map.

"Whatcha doin' up so early?" she asked, her voice still groggy and tired from the early hour. He turned his head, sighed, and smiled, "Just seeing where we're going to go from here," he said, resting his head on hers and then kissing her cheek. "So, we are going through Rainsville, then?" she asked, as it was contradictory to his statements the other night of avoiding population centers. "Yeah," he said, "We're low on water, and I'm thinking we could try and scavenge from any of the local markets and maybe find a pharmacy to grab some more medication." he paused, letting out another tired sigh, "Can't have you getting sick on me, now." Karissa smiled and kissed his forehead, "I'm gonna go back and lie down up front, you should see about waking the others up." Marcus gave a curt nod and smiled, before wrapping up the map and putting it in his bag. He picked up the tailgate of the Ural and shut it, which was enough to wake the two in the back up.

He then turned and looked back at the five other cars before him. He rubbed his eyes, stretched the kinks out of his back, yawned, and then started walking back the line. He walked back to each one of the cars, giving a firm knock on the window, and then letting them know that he was about to start some breakfast up at the front of the Ural. He had yet to formerly meet many of the people yet, they'd only met a few days back and since then, they've all really kept to themselves, including Karissa and Marcus. He thought it would be a good idea to get everyone up and eating together, to talk about who they were, and also share with them the plan he'd developed.

By the time Marcus had got back to the front of the convoy, Karissa was out of the Ural and awake, getting a portable grill from one of the crates in the back of the truck. She also found a few cans of spam, a package of bacon, and a box of cereal. She laid everything out on the tailgate and hooked up the portable grill to a small propane tank and turned it on to start heating it up. Soon enough, they had bacon and spam frying as the others awoke and came from their vehicles.

[Nationine]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:45 AM
Adam Sarvo

Adam had gotten out of the back of the Ural at the promise of food, as he waited to be served he decided he would start some conversation, shifting his weight he let out a sigh and started talking to nobody in particular.

"Now is there any reason I seem to be the only person out of, what twenty? I am the only person without a gun? Dammit!" Adam waited for a response. Nobody seemed to care, perhaps it was too early. Getting his food he sat down, and decided to talk with the man who had introduced himself as David Marlowe. "I mean, I just don't get it you know," Adam sat across from the man looking over at the food line. "I mean, hell I was down here on vacation, I turned eighteen down here. Last night I should have been back home, in Alberta, sitting at a bar somewhere. Find myself a nice blonde girl, not too bright." He motioned out from his chest with his hands, "Nice big set of tits... Hey, whoa, whoa, keep both hands visible man, don't get too engrossed in the story." Adam cracked a smile and started chuckling, after a pause he continued. "Nice big set of tits, long smooth legs. Get her wasted and go back to her place, bed her, leave her a fake number, how fake being dependent on how obsessed over me she was, divided by how much she drank. That way when the crazy one's track you down, which they will, it's easier to go with the 'I was still drunk' excuse, that should buy you enough time to block their number." Adam smiled again, "Never thought of that eh? But instead, instead I am here..." Adam paused and looked down, then back up with a new excitement in his voice. "So what about you, what would you have been doing last night?"

[Phalnia]

July 8th, 2014
4:30 AM
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
Timothy Balinger


Tim tossed around in his sleeping bag. It was bad enough having to sleep in a truck, even worse having to share a truck with a handful of people who hadn't bathed in God knows how long. He could see light breaking through the window of the Silverado. No point trying to get back to sleep, we'll be getting started up soon. So, he laid there thinking about how screwed up this whole situation was. After several moments of self pity a loud knock came from outside the truck, it as accompanied by a voice informing them that chow was ready.

Not waiting for his riding buddies to get up, Tim climbed out of his bag and then the truck. He rolled up the bag and took a look around. Facing East he squinted and found a suitable bush. After answering nature's early-morning call he made his way up the convoy. At the lead car he found some bacon, spam and cereal. The mechanic helped himself to a little of everything and surveyed the crowd. He spotted two men who seemed to be discussing mammary glands. Heading over he spoke up "So, how's it going?"

[Mizrad]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:35 AM
Captain Matt Harlowe
Listen to this while reading


Opening his eyes in the passenger seat of the Jeep Wrangler, the young CIA operator awakens to a new day. He had dreamed about running across the sandy terrain of Afghanistan with his friends and comrades in the morning like he used to, feeling the sun on his skin and the pride in his heart. Matt was trying his best to keep his wife and child off his mind, it would keep him from thinking straight. So instead he thought of good things he used to do, things he loved more than life itself. Watching sun rises everywhere from the blistering hot desert in Israel to watching it set in his high rise condo in Boston. Or how every morning he either woke to Brynn or one of his friends beside him and ready to support him. Fortunately, that part was one of the few things didn't change from the world Matt once knew.

Rubbing his eyes a bit with his surprisingly clean fingers, he blinks a few more times to look out at highway next to him. Yawning, he then turns his face to Russell Gellar. He too was a former man in uniform and the two fortunately get along well together, something that rarely happened with people like Russ and Harlowe. Lightly punching him in the bicep to wake him up, Matt makes a grunting noise as he moves in his seat before telling Gellar to wake up. With no response the first time, Harlowe tries an average tone with his usual Boston accent and deep, intimidating voice.

"Hey sleeping beauty, when you thinkin' of waking up?"

Harlowe grins before opening the door of the Wrangler and stepping out. Stretching a bit by extending his arms out and leaning back, he regains his balance prior to yawning once more. Walking over to the back door of the Wrangler, with his black Nike sweatshirt, mil-spec boots and BDU pants on Matt begins heading towards highway with a slight jog. Moving down the lanes headed north, any vehicles are nowhere to be seen. However only yards away on the southbound side, cars were literally bumper to bumper for as far as the eye could see.

Although Harlowe didn't stop to sight see, he was there to do what he had dreamed about and done for the last sixteen years of his life. Picking up the pace and now sprinting down the open freeway. The sight of buildings far, far off in the distance was visible yet still something to be avoided. Hauling further and further down the road Matt begins to visualize his best friend, Sgt. John Masters running next to him. The two woke up every morning in Iraq doing this, heading out past the base's gates, up over the dunes, past the vehicle inspection point then back across the airfield and to the barracks. It was almost always too close to tell who won. Yet even in a hallucination Harlowe remained competitive with his comrade. Thinking of John passing by him, Matt picks up his pace even more than before. Then reaching a car, the two touch it and run back -This time neck and neck. The words that Masters would always say, "C'mon LT! You can't beat your own NCO? What were they smoking when they gave you this position!?" become audible in Harlowe's mind. He smiles for a moment before rushing once more as he starts pulling ahead. With a smile ear to ear on his face he bolts towards the convoy. With the visualization of the sergeant still right next to him, Harlowe pulls ahead again. This time he does it for good, raising his hands in the air he imagines himself rushing past the fence into the barracks to the platoon sergeant with a stop watch. Whipping past the "Finish line", Matt let's out a rather quiet "Let's go boys!" as he always used to say. Turning around to see the hallucination once more, his "Friend" is no longer there. Harlowe stopped imagining him, and the thought of how Masters would die in Fallujah crosses his mind once more. By now, happiness wasn't coming up anymore. Yet luckily the sight of the sun doing the opposite gives a bit of a "Hey, it's not that bad" to Matt's system.

Finding his way back to the Jeep, Matt moves to the back door to the empty seat then opens it and grabs his MTV, back pack and rifle. Strapping on the vest, then tossing on the back pack and resting the M416 against the now closed door Matt walks back to the passenger seat and grabs his M45A1, which he had become accustomed to sleeping with. Flicking the safety back on, Harlowe stuffs it in his bag. Then pacing over to his rifle, Matt picks it up and holds it between his arm and torso while carefully stowing away a pair of Oakley Assault gloves in his back pocket.

Now carrying the M416 in a resting position, Harlowe's next stop is the breakfast line. Looking up to orangeish-pink and blue sky the recurring "Hey, it's not that bad" arrives once more as thought in Matt's head. America had changed, but the words of the people in the convoy would prove to Matt some things will always stay the same. Adam talking about women in a bar, the other man laughing and grinning to the story and even the smell of bacon keeps him in a mood to want to stay alive. Walking over to the propane grill where Karissa was cooking, Matt puts on his usual attitude of semi-seriousness as he arrives next to her.

"So kid, where're you stashing all the bacon?"

He grins and then takes cooked strip of it and tosses it up into the air. Snatching it with his mouth, he sucks it in a bit more and begins chewing. Finishing chewing, he then lets out a funny-sounding

"Found it, God I love bacon."

Matt flashes a smile to her and then grabs a plate and begins making himself a breakfast before walking over to the camp fire Adam and the others had decided to sit down. With a brief silence coming over the group, Harlowe attempts to break it.

"So, who here has heard the story of the Tiny Hippo?"

[Galdius]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:30 AM
Leeann McGregor

"Archangel, This is Sabre two - four, do you copy over?"

Leeann was met with nothing but the sound of soothing static which filled her ears, she gave the radio a frustrated look before moving the receiver closer to her mouth.

"This is Sabre Two- four, does anyone copy over?!"

Nothing but static, Leeann had been trying to raise command on the radio for quite a while, since they had cut all contact with her unit infact, which was almost two weeks ago. She glared at the radio, giving it an almost maniacal look, she was frustrated that command had left them out in the shit, she was angry that she was stupidly stuck in this situation and most of all, she was frustrated because she hadn't had a good cuppa in almost a three weeks. Leeann slammed the receiver of the radio before packing it away within the deepest recesses of her backpack whist uttering words that have been uttered by many, both young and old, wise and not so wise.

Fuck it.

Leeann had been awake for the past half hour, trying to raise command for so help, her attempts had been completely fruitless however. She, unlike most within the convoy. Wasn't an American, it was pretty evident from the uniform, the Scottish accent and just the general way she acted that she was a foreigner to these lands and with the heat she was packing, it was clear that she didn't come here as a tourist. Some might wonder why she was with the convoy, those who asked, she tended to blow off the question or just come up with an excuse, she didn't want to be clear with her mission, as it would only end up with even more questions being asked. Some might even be hostile towards her, after all, it was the same people in Camo fatigues that had just abandoned them, had left them to rot within their own country, it didn't tend to make people too happy to see her.

Leeann climbed out of the back of the fairly large Ural truck, her military boots struck the hard concrete of the road as the smell of bacon filled her nostrils, which made her perk up slightly, she hadn't had any of the salty goodness for a month or two, but unfortunately it makes her crave more of the now rarer things that she fancied, especially tea, nothing beat a cuppa with a bacon sandwich. Leeann placed her baseball cap on backwards, the small fun meter patch facing would be visible to anyone who would approach her from behind. She made her way towards the front of the large truck, clutching the SR-25's pistol grip, she kept the barrel facing down, allowing her weapons sling to do most of the work. As she came to a stop, she caught wind of a fairly young guy talking about his "Sex" life, the woman he described made Leeann chuckle as it sounded like absolute bullshit.

"Save your breath kiddo. You'll need it to inflate your date." She joked with her soft Scottish accent as she walked past, motioning masturbation with her free hand towards him as she continued to take the piss out of the kid, only adding salt onto the fresh wound, she continued over to Karissa, who was apparently the Marcus girlfriend, who was the rag tag group leader, she stopped fairly close to her, now clutching her rifle in both hands. "So, what's todays plan then?" she asked, savoring the smell of bacon as she awaited her reply.

[Introvertska]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:30 AM
Karissa Winters

Marcus came back from the convoy to her setting up the grill on the tailgate, she was having trouble loosening the knob for the propane tank, so he pitched in and forced it open slightly. "Oh, thanks," she said, smiling at him before turning the heat up on the grill and delicately placing strips of bacon over the bars. "Here," Marcus said, pulling the map from his bag, "Anybody asks what the plan is, you can show them that, I'm going to get a few more minutes of shut eye- wake me up when everybody's ready to head out." he said, glancing at the Mossberg in the back of the truck and then back at her. She nodded and smiled as she watched him walk back to the front of the truck and climb into the driver's seat.

Once she got the bacon and spam on and it began to cook, she took notice to the woman in military fatigues in the back of the truck. She'd been talking into a radio non-stop since the time Karissa had woke up. She glanced up and smiled at her as she got out of the truck with her rifle and walked towards the others. Karissa kept cooking, until one of the men from the convoy approached her, he looked tired, and his face was sweaty.

"So kid, where're you stashing all the bacon?"

It brought a wide smile to her face that people still had a fresh and neighborly attitude even in this type of a catastrophe- that somehow out of this entire mess some people still managed to muster up some happiness and make others laugh. Karissa simply looked at him with a smile on her face and used her spatula to lift a moist piece of paper towel covering a dozen or so strips of bacon. "There ya go," she said in a polite tone.

Just a little later, the woman who was talking on the radio earlier came back, clenching her gun in both hands and with a deep Scottish accent she asked Karissa what the plan was as she was turning off the grill and setting a few plates of food aside for the others to come grab. Karissa picked up the map Marcus gave her that was sitting on the tailgate and started opening it up, "Well," she said, placing it down on the tailgate, "Marcus, the guy who I was talking to a bit ago, told me this morning that we were heading into Rainsville. He told me that we were low on water, and last night he said that gasoline would be a problem if we didn't try to find some tanks or something fast. So, as of now, that's our plan." she said, then looking up at the woman, "You aren't from around here are ya?"

[Treneria]

July 8, 2014
Rainsville, Alabama.
4:30 AM.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HqIEtAhE7I

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Patrick had been up for a couple of hours. He was a night owl. He enjoyed the night. It gave him serenity from the rest of what was left of the world. As they slept, he moved. When they got up to move, he sought out shelter and slept. Thankfully he was a light sleeper and trusted himself enough to awaken and get into action mode before anyone could get the one-up on him. He had a trusty rifle and revolver as his main protection, but also had a large bowie knife for skinning animals that could save him in the case of close-combat. Patrick considered his situation to be safe enough for him to survive in until he got tired of living in the fucked up world they lived in.

His steel stallion was a 1982 Ford F-250 that he had acquired before the infection hit home. It was lifted and had a V-6L engine. It was a two seater as he had a shortened cab on it. The truck was a beast on the road. He could easily overtake other vehicles if the times called for it. It had enough space behind the seats to fit one or two others, as well as his gear. In the bed of the truck, he had a footlocker where a toolbox would usually rest. The footlocker held some personal effects that he had took from his house before leaving, as well as some extra clothes.

The day – or night, rather – in particular had been one of boring composure. He had done some hunting in the dark and got few animals. The woods just weren't very populated at that time. Either way, it was enough to sustain himself. After hunting, Patrick headed into Rainsville. He checked a couple of stores for extra loot that he might need, but found nothing. While some people despised the very idea of looting, Patrick decided long before not to even think about it and move on. It was means of survival for him. If he didn't loot, he'd run out of food and die. It was as simple as that. Though as times were, he might die anyways as the stores were running out.

Patrick had plans to hit up Route 75 and head out of town so he could get rest. But with exhaustion hitting hard, mixed in with a deep sense of hunger, he was forced to pull over to the side of 75 and take a rest. He shut off the truck, and locked the passenger door on the truck as it was closest to his head. He rolled over behind the seats and let himself fall asleep. Patrick clutched his rifle as he slept. He made it two hours into rest until he was awoken by a scratching sound not too far off. His eyebrows raised and ears perked as he heard the sound. He immediately crouched upwards in his truck, getting his rifle into a ready position. He peeked up out of the back window, looking towards the direction the sound came from. Against the moonlight, he could see the silhouette of a figure going through a neighboring car on the road. The figure was of average height. After rifling through the nearby vehicle for a few minutes, the figure left the car door open and headed for Patrick's truck. Patrick covered himself with a dark blanket, leaving only his foot sticking out. He hitched his knee upwards a bit in anticipation. The figure didn't even notice Patrick as it opened the truck door.

As soon as the door was open and the figure was in the vehicle, Patrick could see it's face. The figure belonged to an apparent male. Patrick shot his foot outwards at the figure in the door. His heavy combat boots which he had relieved off a downed police officer throttled the man, sending him to the asphalt road. Patrick immediately got up and hopped out of the truck. By the time he managed to get outside, the man had dashed off and taken cover behind a different vehicle. Patrick jumped up into the bed of his vehicle and stood on it, aiming at the man. He shouted before he fired.

“You ain't getting my stuff boy!” Patrick cracked off a shot at the male, and heard it pierce the window of the vehicle. Patrick thought he heard return fire, yet saw no muzzle flare. Patrick took cover and made sure there was no one firing behind him. After a split second he was sure there was no one, and stood on his feet. After firing another round, he saw the muzzle flare from the other man. It was officially a firefight, right there in the middle of 75. The male huddled behind a sedan; Patrick, standing in black police trousers, combat boots, and a hoodie from the local university. He had a limited amount of shells on him, but he was sure the male only had a limited amount of rounds as well. The fight continued on.

[Nationine]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Adam Sarvo

Adam was glad at least some people were talking to him, stuffing another piece of bacon in his mouth he raised his eyebrows at the guys that had gathered around to listen to his conversation. They didn't know Adam had done a brief stint as a stand up comedian, or that he was great with impressions and accents. Snickering Adam looked back at the Scottish woman, smiled turned back to the guys and started.

"Listen if she doesn't shoot me, then I'll have her in bed, well bag, in two weeks. Trust me." With that he looked back again and then in a voice loud enough so he knew she would hear him, threw on the thickest Scottish brogue he could manage, "Holy christ, did ye see th' tittes oan 'er? Bludy marveloos! they main tak' uir li'es but they will ne'er tak' 'er tittes!" Adam couldn't handle it anymore he collapsed in a heap as many of the others did the same. Looking up he poured the accent on thickly, "Haur she comes lads, whit dae ye hink mah chances ur?" Adam lost it again in another fit of laughs as he looked up at the woman who was only about a meter away now. "Okay, jist tak' it easy," Adam stopped and cleared his throat, "Okay, just take it easy, just trying to keep the moral up. Hey I don't have a gun alright so just take it easy." Adam started walking backwards having a hard time containing his laughter.

[Cylarn]

Russ was bundled up in the back of the Wrangler, due to the coldness of the landscape. With the virus affecting plant life, it was affecting the grass and the trees, and beginning to change the atmosphere as a result. So, it was getting a bit colder at nights. However, he was sleeping great, as he happened upon some pretty good grass during his last scavving run. He would soon wake up his nap, smelling the sweet smell of bacon. He would climb out of the back of the Wrangler, dressed in a OCP tactical combat shirt, OCP ACU trousers, and his boots, and he also had a leg holster attached to his leg, containing his side arm.

Before getting up, he began to look around for his 416, before quickly realizing that Harlowe had taken it. The old soldier groaned, as Harlowe had the tendency to be a dick and take his prized carbine. Groaning once more, he take off his shirt, showing off his rather muscular - yet tanned and scarred - body. He would wander over to the group as they huddled around the bacon. Scratching the back of his head, he spotted Leeann standing nearby. For the most part, he had a good relationship with everyone, but he viewed Leeann as one of the most attractive women in the convoy. He sighed, and walked over next to her.

"Hey, Leeann," he said as he grabbed his 416 from Harlowe. "As my niece used to say: 'NO! MINE!'"

[Calces millia]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:35 AM
Demos Terranova & Felix Tiberius Giorgetti

Demos already woken up from 10 minutes earlier, well half awake to be precise. He needs to gather his scattered thought, and actually reflecting what just life throws at him, while sitting in the front seat of a VW Transporter. To be blunt, everything about his life sounded like a cheap bio for a kid join a roleplay an online forum. Born in a mafia family as a sole kid of a Don, learn how to use shoot the guns from 5 years old, becomes the youngest capo, make his own family when he was just 28 year old in a foreign country, and finally wind up here as a survivor of a horrible disease and apocalypse.

"What a crazy world" Demos thought to himself.

The window that Demos leaned his head to suddenly knock from outside, surprising him and make him fully awake in return. He takes his rolex watch in the dashboard and his fedora hat on the car floor. Though he can't use his suit and rule his criminal family while wearing it again, he at least can use it during this apocalyptic time.

"Risvegliare, Felix. The driver of the Ural calls us, might be something important." Demos said while waking up the guy next to him. Felix, being woken up, quickly open his eye and grab his glasses, just to find dark night sky still painted on the sky. "Dammit.What time is it, Demos?" Ask Fleix while trying to use his glasses correctly. "4.35 am. Don't be a slacker now, Felix. Let's go and breath some fresh air for once." He said while opening the driver door and with some Italians accent. A trait that also shared with his best friend, as both of them are Italians.

Both of the men come out of their vehicle without waking up anybody else and walking toward the source of the tasty bacon smell. They sit around the propane grill and take their share of the food, while joining the conversation that created before they arrived.

"Morning, gentleman. How do you do, right now?" Said Demos to the group.

[Introvertska]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just North of Rainsville, Alabama
4:55 AM

"You old fuck! This town doesn't belong to you!" the juvenile shouted, jumping behind an abandoned car on Route 75 as the lead from the shotgun smacked against the car's body. He then peeked up and fired off several blind shots, which impacted Patrick's truck's tailgate and narrowly missed one of his tires. Patrick returned fire with several shots from his shotgun, and in return recieved three shots back from the juvenile. "Stop fucking around you old assho-" This time, Patrick's shot hit the kid directly under the chin and nearly decapitated him. The lead ball from the shell tore through his esophagus and dislodged the brain stem, killing him instantly. The kid slumped down against the car, gurgling blood up from his throat, looking up at the sky with dead, lifeless eyes.

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM

Waking up from the commotion outside of the Ural, Marcus pushed the blanket form over him and between the two front seats. Though he was exhausted, he thought it a good idea to get out and talk with the others. He yawned, stretched then popped the door open, and jumped out. He looked down at the people huddled around Karissa and the product of her excellent cooking skills and smirked, "She's a cooker," he said coming in from behind the two men in military fatigues. "As I'm sure you've already found out." Marcus plucked a piece of bacon from the pile and started eating it, right as one of the men eating breakfast started to talk in a Scottish accent. He waited for him to finish, then just shook his head and laughed to himself. He let out a brief yawn before jumping up into the bed of the Ural and slinging his Mossberg around his neck, "So, here's the-" But just as he was about to bring up the plan he'd laid out, there was an interruption not too far off from the North, and it nearly made him jump, one loud bang followed by a crack, then a bang, then a crack, and then a large volley of cracks and bangs followed, before finally coming to an end. "Holy fuck, Karissa, in the truck, now. Everybody stay the fuck down."

[Mincaldenteans]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just North of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM

Connor was still sound asleep, taking up space a few feet from the Wrangler on the ground in a semi-comfortable sleeping bag. He'd been sound asleep for a few hours now, his mind finally giving into the allure of the darkness and into the subconscious.

"Hey honey, breakfast is ready." He heard from the kitchen. Connor didn't feel much of getting up from bed, the blankets and the pillow a haven from the chaos outside the bedroom. "I'm gonna eat all the bacon if you're not up in ten."

"No you won't," Connor mumbled from his pillow, shifting the blanket up and over his head. It was way too early this morning to get him up. Seriously, there was a reason why Sundays were actual days and Connor was one of those that fervently believed that such a day was meant to be missed and sleep in from the week of work and restlessness.

"Yes I will!" As though she had already knew his response.

"Come on, your thoughtful girlfriend also made sausages, and eggs Benedict." Her warm voice greeted his ear, followed by soft lips upon his cheek that trailed his jawline both teasingly and affectionately.

"I hate Benedict."

"That's why your thoughtful girlfriend only made it for herself," she quipped, Connor feeling her lips smiling upon her face. He reached over, enclosing her lithe body with his arms and pulled her close to snuggle her against him.

"You smell good," he commented lightly. "And like bacon also. Yummy."

"Oh you're gross, get up, babe, we got a lot to do today."

He wasn't sure when he got up, but the next he was at the dining table having a wonderful breakfast with a lovely woman who was too good to be true. Her warm smile only accentuated her graceful features of deep green eyes and brown-oak hair. She looked up him like that of a familiar, an equal, a husband that she had only set her mind to marrying and the smile she got in return only furthered that confident feeling.

"I got a surprise for you," she said lightly.

"Oh?"

Nodding, she got up. "Close your eyes."

"Alright."

"No peaking," she warned lightly.

"I'm not peaking," Connor assured.

"Hold out your hand," she asked warmly, "but keep your eyes closed until I say so, you promise?"

"Yes yes, I do I do already," he said impatiently with a chuckle, holding his hands out as told and keeping his eyes closed. Though it was tempting not to do so; far be it for him to make issues over small things like these. He felt something heavy, a weight upon his hands. Cold to the touch, smooth, almost... metallic.

"Open your eyes, babe."

He wanted to frown but instead opened his eyes and looked upon the object in his hands.

A gun.

Now frowning he looked up.

"This is what you left me to do. Where were you, Connor?" She screamed at him, a bullet hole neat and open in the middle of her body with nothing but crimson soaked through her shirt. Connor shot up to his feet, the chair stumbled back and she advanced upon him with a fury that bordered on supernatural.

"Oh my god-"

"This is what you did! This is your fault! You left me! How could you?!" She screamed at him, the gun was gone from his hands and now in hers.

"No! Wait! I-" He raised his hands, she drew the gun up.

Bang.

Connor jerked up, pushing the sleeping bag from him and taking a few deep breaths. The image of her dead body was seared into his memory, and for all Connor knew, would likely haunt him to his last days. He heard another bang, a distant one, and another, followed by a rapid sequence of the same. He looked up, noticing a few people and a distinctive voice that, Everybody stay the fuck down."

He moved slowly, as hurried a pace and as low as possible, to collect his Brownings. One he kept with, the other he tucked at the back of his jeans and settled by the Wrangler and waited.

[Uitbregen]

July 8th
Route 75
Just North of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Erin Svensson

Erin was woken by a distant crack of gunfire, and it took a few seconds for her to adjust to her surroundings. She'd hitched on the convoy yesterday evening, and had sunk almost instantly into a deep sleep in the back of the VW Transporter. It was just before-sun up, and Erin could see the crest of rising sun on the horizon through the window of the transporter.

Another crack of gunfire resonated from somewhere in the distance and she wriggled out of her mangled sleeping bag to get a better idea of what was going on. She had slept in an old t-shirt and her underwear, but she moved across to her travel bag and retrieved a pair of cargo trousers and put them on. She moved to leave the side of the Transporter when a man stopped her.

He was about 20 yards away, crouching behind a red barrel. He held a handgun in his right hand and was gesturing for Erin to stay in the van. Erin shook her head in obligation and backed into the van, crouching. There was another crack, followed by a sustained volley. Erin crawled back to her back and rummaged around in the bottom for the cold metal touch of the handgun she'd salvaged from the downed military transport plane back along Route 75. She put it in the band of her trousers and moved back to the door: covered by the metal frame but with a decent enough view from the window.

(OOC: I don't actually have any idea who that man is. Someone can take up that mantle. It's quite hard to introduce oneself when we're being shot at.)

[Lunas Legion]

July 8th
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Victor and Jonothan Lambe

"God bloody damn it!" Victor swore loudly as he straightened out in the Silverado's front seat; he always slept there, despite it being mildly uncomfortable; it was his truck, and he'd be damned if anyone but him and his brother were going to drive it.

He blinked as he heard more distant cracks of gunfire and swore again. "Johnny, get your ass in here!"

"Huh?" Jonothan shouted sleepily from underneath the Silverado. "It's the 4 in the bloody morning Vic."

"And we've got some bloody shooting going on!" Victor shouted back, at which Jonothan shakily got to his feet and climbed into the Silverado, having slept under it the night before.

Victor grabbed his trusty shotgun from where he left it, unloaded, in the driver's footwell while Jonothan grabbed Victor's .44 Magnum from the glovebox, before Victor shouted out the window "Would someone tell us why the bloody hell someone's having shooting practice this early?"

[United Empire of Alara]

July 8th
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Ian Walker

Ian raced down the hill, from which he had been keeping look out all night. He shoved a pair of binoculars into his jacket pocket as he ran toward the Silverado. Jumping into the truck, He surprised the brothers by saying, "The shots are coming from near the town. I saw some movement on main street, but not enough to know what's going on."
He unsheathed a combat knife he had taken from a dead soldier and tried different grips on it. He wanted a firearm, something that required a lot of focus to use. Focus would keep his mind off everything else. He switched to a commando style grip and examined how the knife looked in his hand. This would do though.

[Introvertska]

July 8th
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
5:00 AM
Marcus & Karissa

Marcus fished around in one of the crates in the back of the truck, it'd been a good five minutes since the shooting had quieted down, but he still wanted to be sure no one was watching them. Finally, he pulled out a pair of binoculars, jumping down from the tailgate and kneeling beside the truck he put them to his eyes. After scanning for a good more five minutes, he saw no movement, "Looks clear," he said, still keeping an eye on the town. As he kept scanning he thought of his plan, this would definitely set them back. Originally, he wanted to stroll up through Rainsville, then take 35 Southeast towards the Interstate and get to Atlanta, but with having company ahead, he was sure that some of the group would not appreciate that plan. But to him the positives out weighed the negatives, he only heard two types of firearms, meaning there was likely a one on one shootout in which case it may only be some sole survivor who's taking their time to scavenge the town- but for all he knows the entire town could be a damn trap. He got up from his kneeling position and put the binoculars in the side-pocket of his bag. "Alright," he said with a hushed tone, "I think we're good."

""Would someone tell us why the bloody hell someone's having shooting practice this early?" Marcus heard someone yell up from the Silverado.

"Good question!" he yelled back, "I'm thinking we should throw a quick group together to go check out what's going on up ahead." he said, both to the man in the truck and the group as a whole. He looked at the three people in military fatigues and nodded, "You three seem to know how to handle yourself well. I'm thinking we send maybe a group of five of us up to check it out, so you guys, myself, and one other person."

---

Meanwhile, across the street from the convoy, a man sat behind some rubble and barrels, watching the reactions from the gunfire. He saw as a woman went to step out of the Volkswagen and waved her back inside, luckily, she obliged. Looking down at the woods behind him he snapped his fingers twice, and three other men came up, two armed with baseball bats, and another with a sidearm. "Looks like they have most of their stuff in that truck at the front, but there's too many to take at once with just the four of us. We can keep an eye on them and go back and let him know, maybe they'll separate and give us a chance to attack."

[Treneria]

July 8th, 2014.
Route 75
Rainsville, Alabama.
4:55 AM.

---

The firefight had lasted about twenty-five minutes. Patrick had to hand it to the kid, he fought hard. The kid even managed to plug a few rounds into Patrick's truck. However, this had only enraged Patrick more, and would lead to the inevitable death of the kid. There had been a total of five rounds fired off at Patrick. How none of them managed to impact him was beyond his comprehension. The kid had begun to shout something directed towards Patrick, but never managed to finish the thought. The kid was killed due to a final shell fired from Patrick. Though he didn't know the juvenile was dead, it was obvious he had hit the kid somewhere. He could tell by the sounds of the body thumping over, and the imagery of the dark rose colored blood hitting the window and windshield of the car. The spray of red mist had made it obvious that Patrick hit something vital. Patrick cocked the rifle and hopped down off the bed of the truck. He did a quick inspection of damage on his vehicle. It was minor; nothing that would set him back or make him unable to move. Carrying his rifle and attempting to stick to the shadows, Patrick moved towards the car. He could hear the gurgling sound of the male's last breaths as he lied on the asphalt. There was a pool of blood accumulating on the ground. It was not by any means a good sight.

Patrick walked towards the boy. By the time he was side-by-side with the male, the kid was gone. Patrick closed the kid's eyes in a matter of respect. He said a short prayer for the male. He was one of the few that still held their faith despite the state of affairs in the United States. Patrick took the male's sidearm off him, then patted the kid down for anything else. If the male had any valuable supplies on him, Patrick took them and headed back to the truck. He loaded into the front seat and started the engine. To his delightful surprise, the truck started properly. Patrick took a quick moment to collect his thoughts and get his mind and nerves together before taking off. In the distance, he heard oncoming vehicles. He couldn't tell what direction they were coming from. Patrick put his dimmers on and shifted into gear.

It was time to move.

If vehicles were on their way, that meant that people were driving them. If there were people, they most likely wanted his supplies. He floored the gas pedal and got moving, heading north on 75.

[Galdius]

July 8th
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Leeann McGregor


http://youtu.be/-1ysfbQVbRU

"Good morning harl-"

Bang! Bang!

"Shit, Stand to!" She hissed as she darted over to the tailgate of the Ural, slamming herself against the back wheel of the truck. She quickly flicked the safety off her rifle and scanned through her scope, she was now on the prowl for whoever was deciding to start shooting. It felt like she was back on the mountain plains of Afghanistan, hunting and spying on insurgents also looking for them, who also had very similar intentions, which usually involved the removal of her pretty little head. She kept her eyes tightly on the road, but she couldn't see anything yet, all she could see was mostly open road which lead towards the town and with the amount of gunshots that were continually sounding off, it definitely wasn't a nice little shooting competition between two best friends.

She stayed low, and continued to scan repeatedly, but like before, there was nothing that she could see, the shooting continued for a good twenty minutes, but it seemed to go on for much longer than that for Leeann. She remained alert and she continued to scan over her surroundings looking for anything strange or out of the ordinary, specifically anything that indicated people.

"I can't see shit!" She reported, lowering her weapon as the shooting began to seemingly stop, she slowly began to stand up, but she kept her weapon in a low ready position, just in case the shooting started up. She was starting to feel a little anxious about going into the town now, while normally she wouldn't bat an eyelid at gunfire, this seemed a little too close to the town to be a coincidence. She was in hostile territory by the sounds of it, and she didn't exactly want to walk into a fire fight. She kept her eyes on the road as she moved closer to Marcus, who had come up with the plan of sending in a small elite team into the town.

"Seems solid." she agreed as she continued to scan her surroundings. "But everyone needs to stay alert here too." she continued. "I got a pretty bad feeling about this."

[Cylarn]

At the sound of gunshots, Russ quickly slid behind the Ural, turning the safety off on his 416. Where there was shooting, there was always a shooter, and chances were that the shooter was not a friendly guy. Marcus dropped the idea of gathering a team of advance scouts, and Russ wondered if that was the best solution.

"5 is too big," he said. "Send a two-man team to do recon, while the rest of us stay behind. It might be a bushwhack, so they could be tryin' to draw down our numbers b'fore hittin' us in our group proper. Might be better not to send out all of the military personnel into a possible trap."

[Namunah]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Maynard White

'Holy Crap...!!'

Maynard automatically whispered as he shuffled his feet in a series of weird movements trying to get up into a sitting position. Almost instantly, blood escaped his head and nausea set in. The 20 year old lost his balance in the backseat of the VW Transporter even as he fumbled around for his glasses.

Those were clearly gunshots ringing out in the distance, Mayn thought as he gave up searching on the cot and reached for the floor of the vehicle even as he struggled to check his wristwatch. A rather rude wake-up call, and not his first too.

There, Mayn felt the familiar frame of his Verilux glasses. The metal frame felt cool to the touch as Mayn slammed it onto his eyes and squinted at his watch. Four fifty in the morning, it showed.

'Seriously?' he muttered to himself as he grabbed his backpack pulling out his dad's Colt and flipping open the chamber to check. Loaded, as it had always been for the last few weeks.

Maynard put on his sneakers and jerking open the door, got out of the car and moving around the side, spotted the rest of his guys. Plates were strewn all around.

I must've overslept, Mayn thought.

'Guys, what the hell was that? What's going on?' Maynard called out as he stuffed the gun in the back of his trousers.

This was definitely a 'new' day.

[Cylarn]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM
Maynard White

'Holy Crap...!!'

Maynard automatically whispered as he shuffled his feet in a series of weird movements trying to get up into a sitting position. Almost instantly, blood escaped his head and nausea set in. The 20 year old lost his balance in the backseat of the VW Transporter even as he fumbled around for his glasses.

Those were clearly gunshots ringing out in the distance, Mayn thought as he gave up searching on the cot and reached for the floor of the vehicle even as he struggled to check his wristwatch. A rather rude wake-up call, and not his first too.

There, Mayn felt the familiar frame of his Verilux glasses. The metal frame felt cool to the touch as Mayn slammed it onto his eyes and squinted at his watch. Four fifty in the morning, it showed.

'Seriously?' he muttered to himself as he grabbed his backpack pulling out his dad's Colt and flipping open the chamber to check. Loaded, as it had always been for the last few weeks.

Maynard put on his sneakers and jerking open the door, got out of the car and moving around the side, spotted the rest of his guys. Plates were strewn all around.

I must've overslept, Mayn thought.

'Guys, what the hell was that? What's going on?' Maynard called out as he stuffed the gun in the back of his trousers.

This was definitely a 'new' day.

As Mayn casually approached the group, he would feel a strong arm pull him to the ground, before dragging him against the truck. The owner of that arm was the group's friendly medic, Russ. The former soldier looked at the young man, and motioned for him to stay down.

"It was a firefight," he said.

[Namunah]

'Oh, damn it...!' Mayn responded to the information.

This was not Maynard's first experience, but it was definitely renewed each time. The word 'firefight' struck his brain like a lightning and almost on a sudden instinct, he drew the Colt peeping around the truck at various others who had made their own hiding places.

'Do we have some kind of plan cooking up?' Maynard asked while checking around constantly.

[Introvertska]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM

Marcus nodded slowly in agreement with the two of them as he listened to their ideas, it was great having someone with some actual military expertise in the convoy and made them less vulnerable to any body who got a brilliant idea to try and raid them. "Great, then how about you two and myself, I'd like to see inside the town and scope out a few things, and I need to see if the roads are blocked on Route 35." he said, folding up the map from the tailgate and putting it in one of his cargo pockets. "We'll head up, look for the source of the gunfire, and wait it out to make sure it was just something stupid, if we don't see anything we should come back and take the rest of us up there to look for supplies." Marcus said, then with a thought popping into his head, he climbed back up into the truck bed, "And here," he said pulling out a small box with a red-cross symbol on it, "Medical masks." he said taking one out of the box and hanging it around his neck, before tossing it to Russ.

A younger guy walked up to the group around the truck, and Russ quickly pulled him to the ground and out of sight from the town. "Do we have some kind of plan cooking up?" he asked. "Yeah, the three of us are going into town to check things out. We need you to stay here and watch over the convoy with the rest of the group. If anything happens," Marcus said, pulling a handheld radio out of his bag, "Use that and let us know immediately so we can get back here to help out."

[Namunah]

'G-got it.' Mayn stuttered as he straightened his glasses and took the radio hoping to himself that no such situation arose where he'd have to run around ducking behind the vehicles screaming into this piece of equipment as he did.

Nevertheless, a responsibility had been entrusted to him and scared or not, he'll see it through.

Maynard took a couple of deep breaths.

'I got it. You guys take care.'

[Cylarn]

July 8th, 2014
Route 75
Just West of Rainsville, Alabama
4:50 AM

Marcus nodded slowly in agreement with the two of them as he listened to their ideas, it was great having someone with some actual military expertise in the convoy and made them less vulnerable to any body who got a brilliant idea to try and raid them. "Great, then how about you two and myself, I'd like to see inside the town and scope out a few things, and I need to see if the roads are blocked on Route 35." he said, folding up the map from the tailgate and putting it in one of his cargo pockets. "We'll head up, look for the source of the gunfire, and wait it out to make sure it was just something stupid, if we don't see anything we should come back and take the rest of us up there to look for supplies." Marcus said, then with a thought popping into his head, he climbed back up into the truck bed, "And here," he said pulling out a small box with a red-cross symbol on it, "Medical masks." he said taking one out of the box and hanging it around his neck, before tossing it to Russ.

A younger guy walked up to the group around the truck, and Russ quickly pulled him to the ground and out of sight from the town. "Do we have some kind of plan cooking up?" he asked. "Yeah, the three of us are going into town to check things out. We need you to stay here and watch over the convoy with the rest of the group. If anything happens," Marcus said, pulling a handheld radio out of his bag, "Use that and let us know immediately so we can get back here to help out."

"Let me grab my gear," he said as he tossed the box of masks over to Leeann.

Moving low, the Green Beret would head back to his Wrangler and grab his vest, along with a shemagh, that he would use to cover his face with, and his boonie to wear on his head. Once he was ready, he would slide back over to the others and give a thumbs up. He thought that it would be best for just 2 people to head out, but Marcus was in charge.