Land of the Free (Character RP, IC, Open)

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 5:16 pm

Land of the Free

November 2015: Islamic terrorists continue fighting in the Middle East.

December 2015: Oil shortages cause widespread economic panic.

January 2016: A dozen people are killed during a mass shooting in Boston, calls for increased gun legislation continue.

March 2016: Palestinian forces take control of the Gaza Strip.

July 2016: The American economy experiences a second recession, foreign investors practically abandon the country.

August 2016: American forces withdraw from the Middle East, radical Islamic forces quickly retake power.

November 2016: The Chinese economy continues to grow.

January 2017: Iran develops and tests it's first nuclear weapon, independent of the international community.

June 2017: An unknown terrorist organization detonates a dirty bomb in New York. Millions are killed.

July 2017: Increased security measures throughout the United States lead to curbed civil liberties.

August 2017: Carl Harrison is elected President on a platform of "returning the US to it's former glory".

November 2017: North Korean forces, in the midst of a coup, attempt to cross the DMZ. The subsequent conflict escalates when Pyongyang is destroyed in a nuclear attack. Chinese forces go on high alert.

December 2017: Small scale engagement between North Korean Allied Chinese forces and American troops escalates into a small-scale nuclear engagement. Millions are killed during the conflict. Multiple American and Chinese cities are obliterated. Environmental devastation and nuclear winter soon follow.

January 2018: Permanent martial law is established in the United States. Food shortages lead to widespread rationing.

February 2018: Water and Oil shortages lead to widespread global conflict. Most notably, Russian and European Union forces come into conflict over the last reserves of fresh water on the continent. Moscow, London, and Berlin are destroyed in a nuclear offensive.

May 2018: An uncontrolled outbreak of a genetically modified virus leads to a global pandemic. Due to it's unpleasant symptoms, the disease is referred to as the "Red Death".

August 2018: In an attempt to access further oil reserves, the American military launches a massive offensive to annex Canada.

September 2018: Civil unrest in the States lead to the establishment of the National Defense Force (NDF), a special branch of the government designed to keep the peace and maintain order.

December 2018: Large portions of Canada are captured by the American military. Initial resistance to the occupation is quickly quashed.
February 2019: Political dissidents are captured and "re-educated" or executed throughout the States.

July 2019: Widespread economic collapse wracks the planet. The European Union dissolves. Israel is invaded by a coalition of Middle Easter countries. A populist revolution overthrows the Russian government. Water shortages, coupled with the effects of nuclear winter, kill millions.

August 2019: Several dozen American cities are quarantined following a resurgence of the Red Death.

January 2029: Present Day. The Patriots, a group of terrorist revolutionaries, are established to oppose the Harrison government. They establish a base of operations in New Seattle, while the NDF moves to prevent them from gaining a foothold.[/list][/box]

A lot of people'll tell you it happened quickly. They'll always say that they were astonished the way it all went down. When history looks back on these days, those'll be the people that kids'll look back and wonder "why didn't they see this coming?"

It started out real small. A few policy changes there, the occasional reform. When the Brits started running CCTV cameras all throughout their country, everyone decried them. Said it was totalitarian. Those were the same folks that turned their backs and let the government pick their pockets. It took one guy spilling the beans for people to see what was really going on. Even then, even after all the outrage and condemnation, things kept spiraling out of control.

When the oil tap ran out, it was like a dream. Nobody seemed to be capable of understanding it. The system was too big to fail, too powerful to collapse, and yet just like that, it did. War, disease, famine, even the hermit kingdom got a taste of the hell we experienced. The bastards tried marching right across the DMZ and we all paid it out the ass for it. Chicago, Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, even D.C. Every single one blown right off the map.

Things got even worse on the homefront. There wasn't enough food or water to go around. The NDF had to be set up just to stop the ration riots back in '18. Most of us were already home by that point. I got to see it all firsthand.

The American dream died the day Harrison took office. He promised us peace and plenty and all he asked for in return was silent, obedient consent. Never mind the beatings in the ration lines, forget about the disappearing political figures, don't worry about being dragged off into the night for speaking your mind.

It has to end. The circle cannot hold. Bring it all down.

Rain cascaded down over the broken city, shattered buildings casting their shadows over the streets below. A long line crawls down the block around a small building. The people, tired, await their rations for the week. Among them, a woman stood, hands in her pockets. She sighed, looking around. Two soldiers in riot gear waited near the entrance, weapons ready. Their faces were obscured beneath heavy masks and iron helmets. To her left, a series of posters were plastered against the wall. The first, a man in NDF gear, with large bold letters reading: "Keep it clean, or they will." The other displayed a stereotypical terrorist, AK-47 in one hand and a bomb in the other. The text below read: "He is not your friend. Report all dangerous activities immediately." She sighed, wiping rain off the top of her ballcap. Some people actually buy into that crap. She scanned around. The rest of the team was out of sight, probably in the line. Just the way she wanted it.

Once she was inside, Veronica quickly batted the rain off her coat and checked around. There were five in the room altogether. Two NDF troopers, three civies. She peeked over to find two of them were Ryan and O'Neil. O'Neil didn't respond, merely fixing her hair into a tight bun and taking a deep breath. Ryan, a portly man with a goatee, smiled and waved at her. One of the troopers behind the counter yelled to him.

"You, chubby guy. You getting rations or what?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I just know her."

Oh my god, Ryan, you fucking retard. I tell you to do one thing-

"Next"

O'Neil stepped forward, Ryan carrying a small package away. He smiled to Veronica as he headed for the door, only to stop.

"Hey, I had four ration cards. There's only enough for three here. The fuck is this?"

He turned back around, pushing past O'Neil to the desk. The man behind the counter merely sighed and looked at him, tiredly.

"Sir, we don't determine-"
"I've got two kids at home, how the hell are they supposed to eat?!"

As the two argued, Veronica slowly slid a handgun out of her jacket. O'Neil did the same. One of the NDF troopers stepped forward, placing his hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Look, buddy, just come back tomorrow and we'll-"

The man was cut off as Veronica stepped forward and jammed the barrel of the gun against his neck. The trooper barely had a moment to react before she emptied the clip into him. Blood sprayed onto Veronica's face as O'Neil did the same. Within seconds, both soldiers were dead. Ryan then withdrew a sawn-off shotgun from under his coat and placed the barrel against the man's nose.

"Now-"

He said, smiling.

"-about that food you've got there."

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 6:04 pm

Richard Hale threw the tablet in his hands at the wall of his spacious office as he let loose a scream of rage.

"Goddamn them!!!!" He raved to his second in command; Captain Jason Wander who stood off to the sidelines, familiar with his commander's outbursts. "I put my neck on the f*cking line, by giving those ungrateful rats more rations then other zones, downscaled surveillance and checkpoints more then any other damn district,and they repay me with this!!!"

The Director of Oregon and Washington State or Sector 21said as he held up a paper version of the report and it's manila envelope.

"Sir it was bound to happen" Captain Wander said as he broke his silence. " I mean sir, that it could have happened in Sector 15..."

"Except for the fact that Sector 15's Director isn't on the Commandant's f*cking hit list!!!" Hale said as started to pace his office. He paced for several minutes before his face began to lose the red and his breathing returned to normal; soon he was sitting behind his desk staring at the ceiling for several more minutes before he spoke. "Get me Sub-Director Raines; don't bother to secure it. I want that f*cker on the line five minutes ago."

Wander nodded and moved to the state of the art communication set that took up a wall of the office. The officer fiddled with a few things before a screen descended from the ceiling and hung from it's place in front of the desk. The screen showed a standard command center in a NDF outpost, except this one was vacant of the personnel usually bustling through the center; in fact the room was entirely empty and so Hale waited as he felt a vein throb in his forehead for the three minutes it took for a pasty faced man dressed in rumpled NDF MultiCam fatigues to hurry through the door buckling a belt to his waist.

"Director Hale......I wasn't expecting your call and I'm very busy over here....."

"Sub Director Michael Raines, I remember calling you into this very office when I shook your hand and gave you your orders. I remember telling you what I expected of your district, and what I expected of you....and yet I just read a very funny story about four neighborhood block superintendents assassinated, four vehicles bombed, and two ration facilities raided and sacked with over two dozen NDF personnel killed overall in less then a month's time!!!!." Hale said as he stood up and hammered his fists into his desk for emphasis before he sat back in his chair and took a lighter tone. "Now then...... explain to me what you have done to your district that has screwed it up so badly."

"We do not have enough data to come up a...."

"Now listen here-" Hale began before he was cut off by Wander who was consulting his TacPad.

"Commandant Ruiz is requesting- scratch that, ordering you to call him." Wader said as Hale turned towards the screen and the nervous NDF officer,

"Get your district under control Raines, or I will be paying you a visit." Then Hale cut the connection to talk to his boss for the ass chewing that would surely come with the call.

by **Armeia** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 6:31 pm

Victoria Vanfleet, Qwest Field, New Seattle

Qwest Field was empty, nearly ruined, but still standing. Victoria could only image what it was like when it was full, when it was the loudest place in the city, the place that had caused earthquakes when it was game day.

That was the past however, she had to focus on the task at hand right now. She'd tricked a prominent CEO into coming here for a meeting with another CEO, but she'd only have a small amount of time before he realized it was a sham and ran away.

One Shot, One Kill was her motto, proven by the tattoo on her neck that said those words. She always lived up to that motto too, and now she had a chance to add another kill to her list.

Victoria peered through the scope, standing by the 300 level railing, and readied her finger on the trigger. The man was arriving at the stadium and she saw him, but had to wait for the right time to fire. "Now," she muttered under her breath, taking the shot.

Her target crumpled to the ground, killed by a headshot, and Victoria lowered the rifle, grinning maniacally. She'd make half a million on this job, enough to pay her bills for awhile."Might as well check the view out," she said, strapping her rifle to her back and walking to the far side of the 300 level, staring at the city skyline. Even in its current state, the city looked great from this view, and she reminded herself to come here more often.

Kyle Leroux, Southern B.C

Kyle was heading down the freeway from New Seattle to B.C, his trunk full of meth and coke, when he pulled over to a rest stop to finish the sale. He wore a green and tan jacket with his initials K.L emblazoned on the upper left, and had a automatic pistol sticking out of his waistband. He checked on the trunk quickly, before closing it and looking around for the one who was supposed to be buying all this, a mobster from the Canadian Black Guerrilla Family.

"Put your hands in the air," someone told him, and he turned around to see someone in BGF clothes pointing a sawed off at him.

"There's no need to threaten people," muttered Kyle, putting his hands in the air. "Isn't this what you wanted? Or did I mix the order up?"

"On the ground," said the man, but he didn't expect Kyle to go for a hard kick and knock the gun out of his hands. Kyle leaped at the man, forcing his arm back and breaking it as both of them hit the ground, and Kyle ended up with possession of the shotgun.

"Should have known better than trusting one of you bozos," he said, sitting up and putting a shotgun slug through the man's head. The Bloods and the BGF were de facto enemies, but with the uneasy alliance between the Bloods and the CLF, they'd given permission to Kyle to sell to the Guerilla Family to make money for the CLF.

Except now he was stuck in B.C, wanted for a homicide, with a trunk full of drugs, and he had no idea what to do.

by **Australian Antarctica** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 7:14 pm

Mike and Dean's Car Shop, Downtown New Seattle
Richard swore yet again as he hit his head on the hood of the truck. It was a rather old vehicle, a MAT-V built in the mid 2010s, and was in the shop to have it's gas gusler engine replaced with a new electric one. He'd been working on it all day now, and it was already dark, but he had to get it done by tomorrow or the Captain who'd requested it would do a 'Voluntary Search' of the shop. Rick could not let that happen. In the secret basement, it's entryway hidden in a supply closet under a bunch of old boxes, the Patriots had a large supply of weapons and ammo, enough to wage a small war. Finally he was done with the replacement. Just in time too, Curfew was in less than an hour, and he did not want to sleep in the shop again. Before he left though, he cut a wire in the new engine, in a way that it appeared as if a mouse had nibbled on it. Tomorrow, after the vehicle had been driven for a few miles, it would fry, maybe even catch on fire. Rick hoped so. Those bastards deserved to burn.

Richard stepped into the cold night air. A light mist had began to fall, quickly soaking the man through. He quickly hurried to where he had his truck parked. It was an old one, a '92 Ford F-150 he'd bought when he was 17. A few years later gas became too much to drive it, so he saved up his money for over three years and managed to afford an electric engine. Rick turned the key and let the engine warm up. After a moment he began the agonizingly slow drive home. He had to pass through four checkpoints a night just to get to his ratty apartment. Finally he got home, threw open his door, and collapsed on his bed.

by **Stormwrath** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 9:07 pm

New Seattle, Washington, United States of America

The scene was quite depressing, even for the most optimistic of Americans. He had just driven for hours passing through the desolate ruins of Olympia and Tacoma. Seattle, rather New Seattle, was the same battered pile of rubble as the rest of urban Washington. Yea, the Pacific Northwest wasn't the untouched paradise that it used to be — at least to the Californian. The Space Needle — or whatever is left of it — towered over the rest of the city with the other ruined skyscrapers that made up Old Seattle's skyline. The rain seemed to add to the bleak and somber setting of this once lively metropolis, with Mount Rainier and its white cap hidden by the gray clouds and the fog.

At a certain street, Matthew Barrick saw people lining up for their weekly rations — nothing much was unusual about that. His blue 1991 Dodge Ram was attempting to maneuver past the obstacles on the road, whether it be barricades or the occasional riot soldier. The posters that were plastered on the wall seemed to be worn out by time — many of them had their colors faded, and some of them even picked up grime from the wall itself. No matter, he wasn't going to stop here. Jackie had instructed him to meet her at the Pioneer Historic District, more specifically at Pioneer Square.

He never really understood why he was called to New Seattle by Jackie, especially since the city was considered as a red zone by the authorities, but he figured he'd check it out for himself. Parking in front of the square, he got off his car with his handgun — for he doesn't know if there are any nutjobs who would want to have his head — and walked towards where the totem pole is. The pole was still standing, though the landmark may have already lost its paint after years of neglect. However, there was no sign of Jackie, so he just stood there for a while to wait for her to arrive. The rainfall in the city was beginning to clear up, and some sunlight began to shine through a tiny bit, and so he took off his hood. Two minutes, three minutes… Matthew stared down his watch, which said that the time was 6:19 PM. Finally, another person came up to him, one with a brown raincoat and long red hair with teal highlights.

"Hey, Matthew!," she called out to him. "Glad that you came over here unscathed."

"Jackie, long time," he replied. The two proceeded to bump each other's fists. The two have known each other since she moved to San Bernardino when Matthew was young. "So what did you bring me here for?"

"Oh, you'll know in a few hours," she patted him on the back. "For now, drive us to the University. That's where we lay low for now."

"Lay low?" That was when the two began to walk back to Matthew's truck.

"Yeah. The NDF are already stepping up their shit over here, and some people in the city, particularly the ones looking for some easy money, are getting really desperate. Hell, they'd even waste your fuckin' ass for a few bucks."

"Don't tell me you got into trouble with those guys again." He was referring to the former.

"What? Oh no, of course not." Jackie slid into the passenger's seat while Matthew went around and entered the driver's seat. As he started up his engine, Jackie then commented, "Still driving this old geezer?"

"Yeah. Still runs like she used to back then, though I blew much of my money on an electric engine. Gas is fucking expensive these days." He began to drive away from the square and take a right turn. As he drove, Jackie began to ask questions about what happened to him before he got here. "So how is Portland?"

"Still the same pile of rubble as it was, don't ask. I almost got fucked over by some former jarheads on the way to Olympia."

"Yikes. Guess that may be why you have bullet holes on your car?" Truth be told, there were a lot of holes that were punctured on Jackie's side, including eight bullet holes into the passenger door.

"And on the window, mind you." Jackie tried to roll up the window, but all it revealed were glass shards. Halfway up, the window wouldn't budge any more — it was most likely jammed by the tiny glass pieces. Rolling the window back down she continued, "Well at least it holds together."

"Yeah, I doubt it would for much longer. I think I should get it fixed."

"Probably not right now. Nightfall may come on us soon, so we should be heading to the university before dark."

"Are you kidding me? One of my headlights was busted by those jarheads!"

"Don't worry, I'll take you to that car shop in the middle of downtown tomorrow. They can fix it up."

"Why not now?"

"The guys are still working on an armored car there." She suddenly had a fancy for some alcoholic beverage, and she figured that Matthew may have brought a box full of it (since he was an alcoholic). He asked, "Can I take some of your booze?"

"Just one bottle."

"What? Why don't you ever let me have more than one?"

"Are you kidding? You get easily tipsy."

"You drink a shitload of booze, too. I remember you once drank 'till you were fucking wasted. Several times."

"That's because I have low tolerance."

"But–"

"No."

Jackie slumped into her seat. "Fine…" She then reached for the back seats and pulled out a bottle of strong beer. She turned her head towards her window and just stared blankly at the world outside as she guzzled down her drink.

by **Beiarusia** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 2:12 am

Kat and Lyn // New Seattle, WA

“Ugh, it’s raining.”

“I like the rain.”

Katherine glanced over to her sister, the girl staring up and off into the greying sky with a mixed look of awe and bittersweet sadness. Katelyn had always loved the rain, ever since the two of them were children, and despite the tragedies of their past for which the downpour hid the younger sister could never bring herself to abandon the sense of wonder such weather could elicit. Childish perhaps. Something that was almost pure in a twisted world.

To the elder twin the rain was nothing more than a hassle, but she said nothing of her sister’s fascination.

“We’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry,” Kat said matter of factly, a hand ruffling Lyn’s hair who palmed the disheveled locks back into some semblance of presentability with little to show for her effort. “Razor doesn’t like waiting around. And the sooner we get you somewhere dry the better.”

“I’m fine,” the other girl said with a pout.

Kat smiled.

The two stepped away from the metro tunnel that had shielding them for most of their journey through New Seattle, their windbreakers doing an adequate job at keeping them somewhat dry. For the most part the pair were unassuming, their ragged look giving them the appearance of mere street urchins, hardly worth the time to draw the ever watching eye of the NDF or other police forces. It was this assumption of near worthlessness that allowed the twins to make it as far as they had as runners, smuggling packages and contraband in exchange for food and, in some cases, shelter from the elements. By no means was this a lucrative exploit but it did allow the two to survive with some relevant comfort.

Lyn walked on with a hand loosely grasping the sleeve of her sister, hood of her jacket up, a sealed guitar case strapped across her back. Kat was similarly hooded, a white and blue duffle bag draped across one shoulder. There was little curiosity in discovering the delivery’s contents. The less known the easier it was to maintain an outsider status. Plus the confidentiality helped with business.

“How much longer?” asked Lyn suddenly, watching as a pickup crawled pass them along the street.

Kat shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too much longer. Foley said to meet Razor over by the ration station. Brick building, third floor. I can already see the line. Why?”

Lyn returned the shrug. “Just ‘cause.”

“I know you don’t like Razor but a job is a job.”

“He’s creepy.”

Kat chuckled. “He’s… actually, creepy does fit the bill pretty well.”

The twins walked in silence, passing by the ration station and the people lining up well enough around the block for a meager meal or two. Kat was glad to be free of such monotony, preferring her method of caring for Lyn to that of waiting around for a handout. Sure, the two went hungry some nights but so did the entirety of the city. Food was a commodity almost in this day and age.

Kat slipped away from Lyn’s grasp to properly hold her hand, keeping her close. “I think that’s the building. Same as always: give the package and get paid, and then we can go find someplace warm.”

Lyn sniffled as she nodded, her nose running.

A worried smile as Kat looked to her twin. She’d rather not drag Lyn through the rain like this, but leaving her alone was out of the question. Too many things could happen. Too many shady people lurking around. And they needed a good payday if they wanted to eat tonight. Plus the two never quite knew where they’d be staying the night. The weather would hopefully get better soon enough. It couldn’t get worse.

Nothing could get worse in New Seattle.

by **Insaeldor** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 11:52 am

Hugh Holme
Cultus Lake, Southern British Columbia

"The Fraser Valley area seems pretty heavily patrolled but long lasting American forces are nearly unheard of outside the bigger cities. The exception to that rule seems to be Chilliwack although given its location of the Trans-Canadian Highway it doesn't surprise me nor do the constant patrols. I'll head out and scout further east until Abbotsford, it'll simply be to dangerous to head out based that area with the U.S. presence." I said speaking into a voice recorder as part of my mission journal. The air was thick with mist and a trees dropped off the remaining water from last nights rain storm. I myself was dry but the damp and cool wether werent all that conducive to operational success. I reached into my Rucksack and pulled out a thicker CADPAT coat and put it over my existing uniform.

As I did so I could hear the brush rubbing and brushing against something. It sounded like something was moving through them. I grabbed my C7A3 putting the buttstock in my shoulder, getting into a firing position, and finally disengaging the weapons safety into semi-automatic. I backed away from the epicenter of the noise and waited for it to come out. All around the sounds of the birds went def and the forest became almost silent except for the sounds of whatever was in those bushes. After what felt like hours the rustling was still there just moving along north, if it were an animal it would have ether attacked or ran off by now so I know it can't be that.

I put down my rifle and pulled out my P226 pistol and slowly walked up to the bushes. Ruffling the branches a bit to see if it was just an animal and hopefully would scare it off. Then I dug deep into the foliage catching what looked to be like leather before something jumped out of the bushes. I fired of two rounds at the first thing out of reaction but the second was a bit more worrying. I saw it back and it was most definetly a child. I pointed my pistol right at his back as I contemplated the issue at hand. I had already blow my cover killing what I hopped was his dog although I hadn't taken a good look at the thing so I couldn't be sure. The kid meant no harm to me but I couldn't risk the people in town knowing I was here thus making my predicament even worse. After wrestling with the idea in my head for a moment I came to my conclusion and what would be the best option at hand.

*Bang*

*Bang*

I shot the boy not wanting to have the NDF alerted to my location and then send out hunter-killer squads after me. One of the bullets struck the kid in the middle of the back and the second right at the base of his head where the heal and neck meet most likely severing his brain stem. I looked down and noticed it was also a kid with two bullet wounds in his back and most likely the friend to the kid in the leather jacket. I didn't care to look at the other kid after all why would you like to look at your victim? I killed a kid out of the need of surivaval my best hope was that when they found them they would think it an atrocity of the Americans since the CLF hardly ever operated this far south.

Turning back I quickly grabbed my equipment, holstered my pistol, slung my rifle to my front, and got my rucksack ready and headed West to the forests just outside Abbotsford before I made my way back up north to Yelliwknife. I had to get the fuck out of dodge before the people in Chilliwack noticed a couple of missing kids.

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 1:38 pm

"Just stuff that shit in the bag and get ready."
"These fuckers got backup?"
"I don't see anything."

Ryan watched out the window, having grabbed one of the dead trooper's rifles. The rain had begun to slow, changing from a torrent to a small pattering. Veronica dumped a small pile of rations into a duffle bag. O'Neil did the same. The people outside had started milling about, some trying to peek inside to see what was happening. For one reason or another, they'd yet to report the attack. Whether or not they were intimidated or encouraging the raid was irrelevant, Veronica figured. O'Neil thumbed over the soldier's gear.

"I've got...four mags, 5.56, grenades. Wait, hold up."

She paused for a moment, reaching into the dead man's vest. A small PDA laid in one of the pockets, smeared with blood. She stuffed it in her pocket.

"I've got a PDA here."
"Sweet. Deck? You done back there?"
"Yeah."
"Roger that."

Veronica hopped the counter, duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She nodded to the rest of the group. They quickly slid their masks on, collected their things, and Ryan kicked open the door. Clearing his throat for a moment, he spoke out to the haggard crowd.

"Evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure you've all been waiting a long time. This Ration center is now free to use, by order of the Patriots."

He motioned to the door, smile hidden under his face.

"Grab whatever you need."

The crowd surged forward into the building, breaking down the windows as they scrambled inside to gather their rations. Ryan smiled and turned to Deckard.

"I love this shit."

She nodded and motioned to a nearby alleyway. The group nodded in agreement and started off into the darkness. They soon arrived at a small juncture, a manhole at the center. Deckard and Ryan checked around and, finding little more than rats and urine-soaked garbage, O'Neil stepped forward and pried open the manhole with a crowbar. The group slipped on their gas masks and clambered into the depths.

Even through the mask, the smell of the sewers was abominable. Veronica wretched as the group trudged on through the muck. Huge, feral rats watched them from the dark tunnels. She hoped their flashlights wouldn't run out. The rats were bad enough on their own, but in the dark? They'd be dead in minutes. Ryan complained from behind.

"Man, this sucks. How much further?"

Veronica shrugged. The sewers weren't a perfect method, but it helped them avoid patrols.

"Shouldn't be more than a mile."

Ryan sighed in frustration and stumbled along, knee deep in shitty water.

The base, if it could be called that, wasn't terribly impressive. The University, what little of it was left, was desolated. Shattered concrete and rebar scatted about the destroyed foundations. Thankfully, at least for the Patriots, the lower levels were relatively unscathed. The library had been converted into a small base of operations. Maps with patrol routes plastered to one wall, a set of pirate radio equipment on another, and a small pile of weapons and ammo on a table in the corner. It was small, cramped, and unpleasant, but it was home. Veronica tossed her coat onto one of the sleeping bags in the corner, plopping down onto a chair in front of the radio. She flicked a few knobs, but the device had gone dead.

"Fuck. Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you hit the generator up a bit? It's on the fritz again."
"Sure."

He stepped out for a moment, cranking the generator just outside the door. O'Neil grabbed a rifle and a windbreaker off the equipment.

"I'm gonna take first watch. You gonna let Francis know we've got the goods?"
"Yup."

The two nodded and Veronica went to work. The channel was a pain in the ass to find. Francisco was always changing networks. Not like it wasn't necessary, of course. The kind of work he did could get you killed or worse, sent to a "reeducation camp". Once she was on the right frequency, she spoke.

"This is Patriot One, calling FARC. Repeat, Patriot One calling FARC..."

Ryan sighed, shrugged and started working on the patrol map.

by **Deramen** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 2:16 pm

Dera was jogging. Those damn NDF soldiers were chasing here. There were six or so going after her, No doubt for her stealing food from them while they slept. She was jogging and barley dodging the bullets they rained on her.She saw a stadium and ran to it hoping to find a hiding spot. They were catching up but she knocked over a trash can to distract them. A few of the poor bastards tripped and hit their face on cold "American" pavement. Man Dera would die for some of their armor and weaponry but now was not the time.

She reached the stadium Panting but still having some energy. "Man its magical what adrenaline could do" She saw some dead guy with a suit ahead of her but that didn't matter.she ran up the stairs, But miraculously the NDF soldiers stopped to check the body, Dera assumed he was important. But she reached a hiding point she thought would lose them. "Hey were did the girl go?" "forget it! This is more important!" after that she tuned out the rest but she sighed in relief knowing she got away.

by **Zoblus** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 2:38 pm

Francisco was sitting down, sharpening his knife over the small desk that he managed to drag over from a nearby ruined school when the radio buzzed to life. Quickly picking up the receiver, he replied with his thick accent saying,

"This is FARC, Patriot One, speak up!"

Francisco was nervous using the radio, one could never be sure when they were being watched. And though he regularly changed networks, he was always on guard. He had been sent to the U.S. in order to establish contact and trade with the Patriots as a way to expand the business of FARC further north. He had been here a couple of months now and had established a comfortable base within the ruins of an old hospital building's basement. It reaked of death and decay, the smell he loved and missed from Colombia.

Business had been slow in the city: some drugs being moved here, rations stored there, a couple of guns sold to thugs or rebels. He was waiting for a large shipment of guns from Colombia to really start up the FARC presence in the north, but he was content helping the Patriots move their stuff around, at least for now. It was good money and God knows he loved money. Picking up the receiver again, he repeated his response,

"This is FARC..."

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 2:52 pm

| NEW SEATTLE | DAY 1 | 7:00 PM

Zoblus wrote:"This is FARC, Patriot One, speak up!"

"Roger FARC, this is Patriot One. Packages were retrieved, looking for a place to deliver."

Ryan's voice chimed in from behind. His tone was rather mocking.

"You think we can trust him?"

Veronica swiveled around in her chair and shrugged.

"He's selling. If we can get the stuff to start setting up road bombs..."

Her voice trailed off. She sighed. Ryan turned from his work and looked her over. He knew she hadn't been sleeping well the last few days. After they'd hit the NDF convoy outside town, she'd gotten a lot more quiet, reserved. He shot her a sympathetic look and spoke.

"You gonna be ok? I can man the radio for a while if you need the-"

She smiled, eyes still visibly tired.

"No, no, it's fine. Let's just arrange a deal with Francis and figure it out from there."

He shrugged.

"Alright, alright, fine. When you collapse from exhaustion, don't say I didn't tell you so."

Veronica laughed and swiveled back to the radio set. It was all very slapdash, but it was functional. The NDF monitored most channels, but there were a few low frequency ones they didn't bother with. Not enough people used them to even waste the money. She propped her feet onto the table, holding the receiver in one hand as she waited for Francisco's response.

by **Zoblus** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 3:18 pm

"Roger FARC, this is Patriot One. Packages were retrieved, looking for a place to deliver."

Francisco smiled widely as the woman on the other end of the radio responded.

"Good," he said, stroking his mustache and looking over a map of New Seattle. "Drop off the packages at the southern tip of Mercer Island, I'll be there in 20 minutes with a speed boat to meet up with your team." Waiting for a reply, Francisco began looking over the possible routes he could take to the island. Best bet is to slip through some of the sewers and exit through one of the drainage pipes. He began packing his gear that he stored in his office for the meet, taking with him his favorite pistol: a 45.cal M1911. As added insurance, he brought three grenades, packaging them in sleeves on his vest.

You can never be too safe

by **Australian Antarctica** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 3:44 pm

Richard had just been dozing off when their was a loud pounding at the door. Grumbling, he got up and grabbed his ancient M1911 from when his father was kid, for safety. If there was trouble on the other side of the door, he would deal with it. Rick stuffed the pistol in his belt and opened the door. There stood an NDF Police Sergeant "Richard Williamson?"
"That would be me, yes. May I ask what this is about?" Richard replied, suddenly self conscious of the bulge the pistol made at his side.
"My vehicle has broken down outside and records indicate that you work as a mechanic. Is this correct?" the officer asked, rather pleasantly, much to Richard's surprise.
"Yes, I work at Mike and Dean's on 19th Street"
"Good" the Officer said, still fairly friendly "Now come with me to repair my vehicle. You will be compensated greatly for this task. 5 Ration cards"
Richard perked up at the offer "Sure, let me hit the can and grab my tools. Make yourself comfortable" he quickly walked back inside and headed straight for the bathroom. He didn't use it, however, instead stashing the pistol inside the air vent. After finishing, he grabbed his tool box and followed the Officer outside. In the stairwell, the man said something that caught Richard completely off guard "Don't Tread on Me" That was the code phrase used by the Patriot sect operating in his district. Richard nodded, understanding the man completely. He didn't even say a word as they got to the still smoking police car. It's engine was fried, probably from the rain coupled with the large radio set up in the cab. Richard spoke after tinkering for a moment with the engine "Well, I can get it running well enough to get to my shop. Though, barely. I'll need a couple days to repair it once we get there. Can you get a replacement until then?"
The 'officer' nodded "Yes, do you have the necessary supplies to repair it?"
"More than enough sir" Richard responded, getting into the passenger seat. The drive was relatively short, thanks to the vehicle and the driver they could pass through the checkpoints with ease.

After a few minutes, they pulled up to the the shop. Richard got out and unlocked the door. After fiddling with the garage door for a moment, he got it open. He'd been meaning to get a new motor for the opener, but never had had the time or money to do so. The car pulled into the shop and the officer got out. Richard spoke again "Hey, I need a hand for a minute. Could you grab the tool chest in the supply closet down the hall quick?" The officer nodded once more. He calmly walked to the closet, moved a few crates, entered the correct combination in the lock, and ducked into the armory below. It only took a few moments for him to gather the necessary supplies before he was back upstairs. The man stored them in the trunk of the police car while Richard finished the repairs "My mistake, you just needed a couple new wires, have a nice night" the officer nodded once and whispered "Long live the eagle" before pressing a wad of paper in his hand. The Patriot Officer entered the vehicle and pulled off into the night, headed god knows where doing god knows what. Richard waited before looking at the wad of paper. 4 Ration tickets. Nothing odd there. But there was something odd about the piece of paper in the middle of the stack. He looked it over for a moment. It wasn't anything special, just a radio frequency. Probably someone to contact for orders. Well, it would have to wait until morning, he needed his sleep. Unable to get home after curfew, Rick pulled out the cot he'd kept stored here and sat down. He undid his boots and fell quickly asleep.

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 4:21 pm

Zoblus wrote:"Drop off the packages at the southern tip of Mercer Island, I'll be there in 20 minutes with a speed boat to meet up with your team."

Veronica sighed and picked up the receiver again.

"Uh, copy that, over. We'll meet you there."

She swiveled around in her chair and whistled to Ryan. He quickly turned around and set his sharpie down.

"We heading out?"
"Yup. Grab your shit."

The two threw together their equipment, Veronica grabbing a small walkie-talkie and speaking into it.

"O'Neil, we're gonna go talk to Francis. Can you hold down the fort while we're gone?"
"Yeah, I gotcha."
"Cool."

The two collected their weapons, a pair of assault rifles, and the stolen rations and headed out. NDF troopers patrolled the streets constantly at night to enforce curfew, so they would need to head through the sewers once more. Ryan sighed and pried the manhole open, helping Veronica into the dark abyss. He held his breath and slipped a mask on, following closely behind.

Cold air swept across the Island as the two sat, waiting for Francisco to arrive. Veronica merely sat atop a large rock and looked out over the blasted horizon. Most of the buildings in the city were obliterated in the blast, but a few had survived. The Space Needle, or rather what remained of it, loomed over the city. Lights in the distance flashed in and out of view. NDF patrols, she figured. Thankfully, they hadn't started using drones to monitor the streets yet, like they had out East, but when they did...

A light to her left drew her attention. Ryan had draped his windbreaker over his old gameboy. She sighed. He'd refused to give it up on every occasion, even though pre-war tech was going for a shitload of scrap nowadays. Maybe if they needed the money, they could hit up the old city and see if there was anything to be found. Of course, that meant dealing with the ferals and the scavengers, and she had neither the munition nor the inclination to do so. Ryan perked up.

"You hear that?"

She nodded and stood, rain still pattering off her windbreaker as she watched Francisco's boat arrive. She turned to Ryan.

"Get the stuff ready. I want to get the materials and get the fuck out of here. That boat's gonna attract a lot of attention."

He nodded and slid the duffle bag off his back, checking to make sure the rations were all there. As he did, Veronica walked up to greet Francisco.

"Evening. You got the gear we asked for?"

by **Zoblus** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 5:58 pm

Francisco eased the boat between some small rocks protruding from the water as he approached the southern tip of the island. The rain around him was easing up, exposing the noise of the speed boat's old gas engine. Gotta get the engine changed out to one of those fancy electric engines. Cutting off the engine as the boat met the shore, Francisco could see the two Patriots waiting for him.

"Evening. You got the gear we asked for?"

"Yeah," he said, spitting off to the side," it's all here. Got a couple of frag grenades, a few blocks of semtex, couple boxes of pistol ammo, and some pipe bombs. I might throw in couple a couple assault rifles, if you're interested." Francisco leaned back on the boat after he hauled the gear out of it. They were all stored in old wooden boxes that he had found lying around in dumpster near his base. The boxes were beaten up and moldy, but they worked regardless.

"Now," Francisco said, taking a small beer bottle from his pocket," do you have what you intend to pay me with this time? And let's get this over quickly, I don't want to get my a** stuck in no 'reeducation camp'." Francisco looked around after saying this, as if the mere mention of the infamous camps subjected the speaker to its horrors.

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:20 pm

Zoblus wrote:"Now," Francisco said, taking a small beer bottle from his pocket," do you have what you intend to pay me with this time? And let's get this over quickly, I don't want to get my a** stuck in no 'reeducation camp'." Francisco looked around after saying this, as if the mere mention of the infamous camps subjected the speaker to its horrors.

Veronica nodded and Ryan stepped forward, zipping open the bag to reveal it's contents. A large pile of rations laid within. He smiled awkwardly.

"There it is. About a week's worth of rations if my count's right."

She turned to Francisco. The rain had finally begun to slow. Wiping the droplets from her hood, she slipped it off and spoke.

"And about those assault rifles? I'm interested. Show me what you got."

As she spoke, a helicopter churned along in the distance. She shivered a bit, but she couldn't tell if it was from the cold or not. Ryan zipped the bag up and set it down, awaiting Veronica's orders. The water swept away at the island, rolling back and forth as the storm began to recede.

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:37 pm

Code: Select all: To: Sub-Director Michael Raines, 6th NDF Enforcer Division From: Captain Jason Wander,Sector 21 Command Detachment Subj: Inspection Due to the recent attack of a ration center within your command and the theft of government property in the form of the rations in the center and gear of the two dead NDF soldiers assigned to guard the center; Director Hale will be personally inspecting your command and it's overall effectiveness at performing it's goals. The Director will arrive in exactly two hours, thirty minutes and twenty four seconds upon receiving this message. You are expected to greet the Director at the airbase with proper transportation to see the Director and his guard to his quarters that are to be prepared before arrival. Best of luck, Sub-Director.

Sub-Director Raines hurried down the steps of NDF New Seattle Command Post, past the four heavily armed heavies that stood guard outside the door and towards the waiting Jericho APC that was the centerpiece of the six vehicle convoy that consisted of two MRAP's and three Hummer's all painted in the dark MultiCam camouflage of the NDF. Raines plopped down in his seat inside the Jericho, which instead of hauling around seven NDF troopers, instead has command and control gear operated by two sergeants who sat in silence at their consoles. Soon the convoy left the confines of the NDF base and was on the city streets as it made it's way down the winding and cluttered streets to the airbase.

by **Stormwrath** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:47 pm

Seattle University Campus Grounds, New Seattle, Washington
6:44 PM

As the sun began to dip in the horizon, the truck arrived at Seattle University, or whatever may be still standing. The ruined skyline can be seen in the west trying to hide the sun that was setting in the sea. Going in through 12th Avenue and through a left turn at the ruins of Sullivan Hall, Matthew drove his car straight through the pedestrian avenue and parked in front of the library building. From the looks of it, the building may have been shelled out, and a disorderly mess of concrete and rebar was all over the ground. The windows seemed to be shattered through all kinds of means. Nearby buildings are more or less the same, showing the telltale signs of bomb explosions. Matthew then asked, "You sure this is the place?"

Jackie replied, "I'm quite sure. Plus, your truck matches the already beat up surroundings."

"Very funny," he sneered. The two got out of the truck, and Matthew brought his booze and his gear with him. Jackie led the way to the entrance of the remnants of the building. It seems like the clouds are going to blow up a storm again, the last of the purple sky being concealed by them. The lobby was more or less intact, though glass shards can be seen blown off as far as where the stairs were. The lights were at most dim and fluctuating, as the Patriots used a generator to harness electricity. Many Americans think of generators now as a luxury, something that even a million rations' worth can't buy. As Matthew and Jackie went up the stairs, they went to a certain portion where the Patriots' base of operations was, behind a certain door. On the wall were plastered various maps — which indicated the patrol routes that the NDF was using all over New Seattle. A few tables had been transferred from elsewhere in the library for their radio equipment and for their weapons and ammunition.

Jackie arrived at that particular corner of the library, where the sleeping bags were being laid down. T'was a hard life taking refuge in the remains of this building. Tossing her articles on one of the sleeping bags, she said to her companions, "I'm back."

Matthew just stood there and watched the New Seattle Patriots do their thing for a while. Jackie stared at him blankly and realized something. "Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce him. Guys, this is Matthew Barrick, the hacker I called over from Portland. Used to be one of the top hackers in the NDF Southern California intel detachment and then left."

Matthew just shyly said to them, "What's up?"

Jackie then continued, "This is Veronica, and this is Ryan." Pointing to a certain person she said, "That's O'Neil."

"Now that I've introduced you," turning to Matthew he said, "Do your thing."

Opening up his laptop he responded, "Already on it." His laptop runs on a Linux OS from the 2020s, one that the NDF uses in their intel operations. He first took the time to mask all of his IP addresses to avoid detection. O'Neil grabbed a rifle and a windbreaker and said to the rest of the group, I'm gonna take first watch. You gonna let Francis know we've got the goods?"

"Yup."

Veronica and Ryan began doing their jobs — the former in locating a radio frequency and channel, while the latter worked on the patrol map. This took a while to pull off, since their contact seemed to be changing frequencies all the time in order to avoid detection from the men in riot suits. Finally, the outpost made contact with this FARC. From the looks of it, there was going to be a certain delivery that was going to be done. Veronica responded over the radio comms, "Uh, copy that, over. We'll meet you there."

She and Ryan were going to head out once more through the sewers in order to avoid being seen by the night patrols. The storm began to come down hard — the rain falling down like the repetition of the Great Deluge of old. The stairs leading to the second floor of the building were already filling the lower floors with water. Meanwhile Jackie began to man one of the radio stations and scan for any Patriot low-frequency radio channels close by New Seattle. Matthew then asked, "It is always like this over here?"

"Oh yeah," Jackie replied as she turned knobs on the radio. He was going to get used to the rain and to the sewers of New Seattle one day.

by **Zoblus** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:51 pm

New Grestin wrote:"And about those assault rifles? I'm interested. Show me what you got."

As she spoke, a helicopter churned along in the distance. She shivered a bit, but she couldn't tell if it was from the cold or not. Ryan zipped the bag up and set it down, awaiting Veronica's orders. The water swept away at the island, rolling back and forth as the storm began to recede.

Frightened at first by the sound of the helicopter, Francisco was about to jump back into the boat and flee when he noticed it was far off. Relieved, he returned to the business at hand. Climbing back into the boat, Francisco began lowering down a couple of boxes marked as "fruit" and "perishable". Lowering the last box, Francisco then faced the two and said,

"There are a couple of old AK's in those boxes, straight from my suppliers in Lebanon. They are a minor taste of the future shipments I expect to be coming soon."

Taking a quick swig from the bottle, Francisco jumped back down from the boat. It was a truly ancient thing, probably assembled in the 90's or the early 2000's, the tired blue paint chipping off the sides, multitudes of scratches and dents scouring its surface. Four motors jutted from the rear of its plexiglass frame, giving it the extra speed needed for possible escapes from NDF vessels.

"If you want them, I'll hand them over to you now, ammo included, and you won't have to pay me in supplies or other things of that nature. You would, however, have to help me with a little errand that has been given to me by my superiors back in Colombia." Taking a second swig from the bottle, Francisco grinned and continued:

"Nothing too serious, just some minor drug running"

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 9:04 pm

"Why are we again" A NDF trooper said as he shifted his rifle across his chest, while he lifted up his boot to inspect the filth that was smeared across it's surface.

"Why else? Their rats, Phillips, and rats like to go underground." His companion said as he withdrew a chrome colored round for the M320 launcher slung underneath his rifle. The man adjusted his aim slightly before he pulled the trigger and sent the package into the cracked stone wall of the sewer where it burrowed in deeply before it stopped, nestled tightly into the hole. The man looked at his wrist mounted tacpad and was rewarded with a thermal image of him and his companion, well at least the parts that were uncovered by their thermal cheating coverings. "tunnel 95 is marked, that's it for the day. Let's pack it up."

"Don't see why we're doing this now" Phillips said as he and his companion moved towards the exit to the sewers with their way marked by IR paint.

"Rumor has it we got a VIP coming in, and Raines is meeting the VIP in person.....at the airport."

"Wimpy Raines is getting out of his office to see this guy?"

"Yep, and this is a dog and pony show" The two troopers were unaware of how their voices traveled through the tunnels even through the confines of the masks.

I write stuff · by **New Grestin** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 9:15 pm

Zoblus wrote:
New Grestin wrote:"And about those assault rifles? I'm interested. Show me what you got."

As she spoke, a helicopter churned along in the distance. She shivered a bit, but she couldn't tell if it was from the cold or not. Ryan zipped the bag up and set it down, awaiting Veronica's orders. The water swept away at the island, rolling back and forth as the storm began to recede.

Frightened at first by the sound of the helicopter, Francisco was about to jump back into the boat and flee when he noticed it was far off. Relieved, he returned to the business at hand. Climbing back into the boat, Francisco began lowering down a couple of boxes marked as "fruit" and "perishable". Lowering the last box, Francisco then faced the two and said,

"There are a couple of old AK's in those boxes, straight from my suppliers in Lebanon. They are a minor taste of the future shipments I expect to be coming soon."

Taking a quick swig from the bottle, Francisco jumped back down from the boat. It was a truly ancient thing, probably assembled in the 90's or the early 2000's, the tired blue paint chipping off the sides, multitudes of scratches and dents scouring its surface. Four motors jutted from the rear of its plexiglass frame, giving it the extra speed needed for possible escapes from NDF vessels.

"If you want them, I'll hand them over to you now, ammo included, and you won't have to pay me in supplies or other things of that nature. You would, however, have to help me with a little errand that has been given to me by my superiors back in Colombia." Taking a second swig from the bottle, Francisco grinned and continued:

"Nothing too serious, just some minor drug running"

Veronica raised an eyebrow as Ryan loaded the rations into the boat.

"Drug running, eh? What exactly would you have us do?"

She checked around, making sure nobody was watching. Of course, they were still alone. Ryan began loading the rifles and equipment into the now emptied bag as the two spoke.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest here, the weather fucking sucks and the cops'll be doing patrols, so let's make this quick so I can get home."

She smiled, sheepishly. Ryan then tromped off the boat, bag slung over his back. He sat on a rock nearby and waited for them. She crossed her arms. Francisco was reliable when it came to weapons, but most of the time they'd never been able to pay, so they were forced to do a few odd jobs or pay through...alternative methods. She sighed. Rain trickled down her coat as the storm went into it's final throes.

"It's not that I won't do it-"

Veronica continued.

"-I'd just rather know the details now, then later."

by **Zoblus** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 9:54 pm

"Well, there's a shipment of cocaine, fresh off the boat from Colombia, that's going to land near the city in a few days. All you'd have to do is take the bundles, bring them over to my contact in the old city, and you'd be done."

He could have obviously done the job himself, but it would probably end terribly, since a Colombian driving a white van over to the abandoned part of the city would be very suspicious.

"It'll probably be around 40 kilos of cocaine, 88 pounds if you prefer standard measurements. I have a van that you can take over to the meeting spot if you lack the proper means to transport the product, though be warned, its a bit of a junker."

Checking the rations in the boat after they were loaded into it, Francisco climbed back in and started to rev up the engine. Spurting a thick cloud of smoke, the ancient engines roared back to life after a few turns of the key. He started to reverse the boat back into deeper water where the vessel could quickly slip back into the sewers and return to base.

"I'll call over the radio when the shipment arrives and give you password to Suleiman's house in the old city. That is, of course, if you are up to it." Francisco grinned again, the silver tooth on the upper right side of his mouth shinning even in the low light.

by **Beiarusia** » Fri Jul 17, 2015 11:59 am

Their steps were loud against the old stairwell as the two sisters climbed up to the third floor. The building was in disarray, in dire need of renovation or, at the very least, a fresh coat of paint. Not that it mattered. The twins had spent the night in worse off places. Finding the correct door, Kat pushed it open and stepped into the small apartment, stopping in her tracks upon seeing who awaited inside.

Razor was at the window, staring down to the street with a nervousness about him. He was a nerdy man with cracked glasses held together by scotch tape, having the appearance of someone who would be pudgy if not overweight had the rations allowed it. On the opposite end of the room, sitting in a moth-eaten recliner, was a man Kat had did not recognize. He was skinny to the point of appearing sickly and had tattoos traveling up and down his arms with one encompassing the left half of his face. Unlike Razor he didn’t appear nervous but more impatient than anything.

“You’re late,” Razor muttered from the window, looking over to the twins. “You have the package?”

Kat tightened her grip on the duffel bag’s strap. “Who the hell is this?”

“It doesn’t matter. You have it or not?” Razor pressed, stepping away from the window. He wasn’t exactly a threatening man but he was acting more forceful today than he typically would.

“That’s not how it works. I meet with you, not Mr. Tattoo over there.”

The tattooed man was on his feet now, the impatience growing to full blown fury. “Just give us the bag you little bitch.”

“Hey, just chill the-,” Razor tried to calm the man but was interrupted as he was pushed to the floor, the man approaching the twins whilst reaching into his jacket.

Kat had only just seen the glint of metal before she ran, dragging Lyn behind her as the man gave chase, apparently more than willing to attack a runner for whatever she carried in the bag. The twins sped down the stairs, two at a time, the man close behind with Razor shouting off behind him. They reached the main floor and ran for the door, knowing full well that the man would most likely break off his pursuit should there be any witnesses.

She opened the door only to meet a wall of armor. An NDF soldier stood there, just as surprised as she was. Behind him were more, the ration station crawling with cops and NDF. Kat didn’t wait around for the man to come to his senses, dragging Lyn off and down another hallway as the tattooed man ran straight into the NDF. Gunfire erupted soon after.

The NDF were in the building now, their heavy footfalls drawing closer as Kat ran out of places to run. She was nearing the back of the apartments when another door opened before her. Half expecting another soldier she was instead greeted to an unassuming man who waved her towards supposed safety. Having little to go on she followed, finding herself in a back alley and running for her life. By the time they had come to a stop the apartment was long gone behind them.

“Thanks,” Kat breathed out, Lyn practically gasping for air beside her.

The man didn’t appear to hear them, muttering to himself as he looked to make sure the coast was clear. After a moment he turned to the girls, looking them over once before giving an offer. “How would you like to get paid? Get that bag over to the university and they’ll give you whatever you want.”

The young woman straightened. “I already had one bad deal today.”

“Just gonna have to trust me.”

“Easier said than done.”

The man shrugged. “Guess you’re out of luck. Get there and say don’t tread on me. They’ll understand. Do this and you’ll be well compensated.”

“And why me?” she questioned.

“Because the NDF is pissed and I think you can move around a lot easier than I can.”

Kat thought for a brief moment before deciding. “Fine. But there better be no funny business when I get there.”

The man raised a hand to his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

Checking that the coast was clear he disappeared down the street, leaving the twins behind who soon departed as well, having little to go on and nothing to lose.

by **Australian Antarctica** » Fri Jul 17, 2015 12:06 pm

Richard awoke two hours before opening. The first rays of morning light shone through the shop windows, illuminating the otherwise dank and dark city. He groaned as he sat up and pulled on his work boots. He'd never bothered changing his clothes, no use getting another pair coated in grease and oil. First thing's first, he checked to make sure the MAT-V he'd fixed yesterday ran, which it did. At least for the first couple miles. After that it was anyone's guess what would happen. After finishing that, he walked to the supply closet and moved the boxes away. Carefully he climbed down the steep staircase into the armory, hitting his head on the entryway like usual. Rick walked to the very back, past the racks of AKs, M4s, M16s, and even a few hunting rifles, to the old radio he'd had set up. He tuned it to the right frequency and spoke into the microphone "This is Liberty 2-1, come back. Repeat this is Liberty 2-1, over" he waited for a response, hopefully another Patriot. At worst it would probably just be another sympathizer, probably offering a safehouse or supplies. He'd just have to wait to find out.

by **Armeia** » Fri Jul 17, 2015 2:04 pm

Deramen wrote:Dera was jogging. Those damn NDF soldiers were chasing here. There were six or so going after her, No doubt for her stealing food from them while they slept. She was jogging and barley dodging the bullets they rained on her.She saw a stadium and ran to it hoping to find a hiding spot. They were catching up but she knocked over a trash can to distract them. A few of the poor bastards tripped and hit their face on cold "American" pavement. Man Dera would die for some of their armor and weaponry but now was not the time.

She reached the stadium Panting but still having some energy. "Man its magical what adrenaline could do" She saw some dead guy with a suit ahead of her but that didn't matter.she ran up the stairs, But miraculously the NDF soldiers stopped to check the body, Dera assumed he was important. But she reached a hiding point she thought would lose them. "Hey were did the girl go?" "forget it! This is more important!" after that she tuned out the rest but she sighed in relief knowing she got away.

Victoria heard the commotion and her heart began racing. Was this a sting? she thought, reloading her sniper rifle and whirling around. She crouched low, moving slowly until she was sure nobody was in the immediate area, before dashing down the steps that led to the 100 level. The soldiers on the field hadn't seen her, so there was time for her to get to ground level quickly. She heard footsteps though, possibly from the one the soldiers had been chasing. "Who's there?" she asked, strapping her rifle to her back and taking out a combat knife, with a serrated edge.

Land of the Free (Character RP, IC, Open)

Land of the Free (Character RP, IC, Open)

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