We Were Children | Survival RP | IC |

[The Landfish Colonies]

---

We Were Children
OOC Theme

---

Chapter 1
The Long Road

Imagine your an average teenager, who until now has lived an average life. Sure, you might have had your problems, maybe in school, maybe your parents got divorced, or your goldfish died, but you had a decent life. You're just a kid after all, not having to worry about all that goes on in the world, all the things adults do on a day to day basis to keep you happy and healthy. You don't worry about putting dinner on the table, making sure you have a roof over your head, because that's your parents job. You don't worry about the farmers you make your food, police and firemen who keep your world safe, doctors, politicians, construction workers, anyone who keeps the world the way it is. You can't imagine a world without them, and you take it all for granted.

Now imagine that people begin to fall ill. It's not very exciting at first, just a glorified cold. A cough, a fever, a sore throat perhaps. But it gets worse. It doesn't take long for people to realize that there is a new sickness, spread across the world from the America's to Europe, to Asia and Africa. People everywhere are dying. Scientist try to find a cure, but it's only a matter of time before they fall ill as well. What becomes clear, however, is that no one under the age of 18 is affected by the sickness. No one knows why, no one can explain what's happening, but as the world dies you stay fine.

You're alone now. Your parents, teachers, older siblings, every adult in your life is gone, and now you have to survive. You need food and water, somewhere to sleep at night, but most importantly, you need to defend yourself.

But imagine that not all the adults died from the sickness. See, some of them still walk the streets after the sickness takes them. They're hungry, and they'll do anything for food. They'll hunt and kill, and all they want is you.

Welcome to London, and good luck.

[Relikai]

Hayatsuki Sakura
Hirahana Rina

Sakura's tired face gazed upon the body hanging across the street, her eyes hollow as the rifle rested across her lap. Behind her, Hillary was up and about, preparing the day's breakfast after keeping the last watch. Yawning, Sakura tried closing her eyes to catch more sleep, only to be greeted by the screams and grunts of her deceased group mate and the two boys she killed. Her hands still shook whenever she thought of that. Being a delinquent back in Japan was to fend off random Yakuza touches, look like a badass, and act like one. Nothing could prepare those spoilt, undisciplined kids for true fighting, true killing.

"You did what you could. You saved us." Hillary had said as she hugged a shaking Sakura back then. Being the leader of the group has stretched her to the limit as Sakura carried them up the ladder of popularity, and a whole new challenge was thrust upon her. Still, with Hillary alive, she knew her duty. Sakura also tried not to think of what she had read regarding post-apocalyptic scenarios, what women were used for, and what happened the day before.

Females would eventually become breeding machines. Males might take this excuse to stick their dicks into something, but it's as legitimate as they come. The sudden loss of population, of manpower, represents a crisis not for Earth, but for the Human Race...

"Breakfast."

A slice of slightly toasted bread, topped with sweet butter and a little sugar was placed on Sakura's hand. The leader nearly lashed out at Hillary, but sanity prevailed as Sakura smiled her thanks. Butter toast with sugar, one of her favorite foods. Reminds her of home, reminds her of life.

---

Sakura slowly entered a convenience store, shocked to see that most of the canned items were still intact. Quickly, Sakura and Hillary opened their backpacks as they filled them with tuna, soups, instant packets and more importantly, bottled water. Sakura picked the foods with the most calories, knowing that conserving their energy was the most important for the first few days. After a week, infighting would cause the population to shrink even more, and hopefully there were some kids alive in the pastures, tending to domesticated animals else London would lose a possible source of meat.

Filling their bags, the two girls smiled as they headed back out. Only Sakura held a rifle, Hillary could carry more things that way. Those weapons were more for show an intimidation than actual usage anyway.

"Screw that bitch!
Screw that bitch!
Stick it in her orifice!
With a big ooh-ahh and a lovely virgin squeal,
Stick that bloody orifice!"

The two girls paused, as the chants got louder. Breaking into a run, the two girls finally reached their 'home', Sakura entering and making sure that it remained safe before Hillary tumbled in with all her goods. The street gangs were at it again, asserting their territorial claims as they hunted down independent parties, having fun and getting drunk. Sakura was thorough disgusted by their behavior, and Hillary was similarly sick.

"Ignore them. I don't think they saw us. Probably a poor girl getting caught." Sakura whispered.

"Sakura, please, drink and keep up your strength."

"Thanks... Hillary."

[Anowa]

To say the past week was okay, would get you slapped by the million or so remaining people in London. For a select few you might even get shot or stabbed. Isaac MacDougall was one of former, he had standards, and the will hammered into his head from day one of training not to engage civilians if they weren't a threat against your own, or your comrade's lives.

He was slowly moving through an alleyway near Westminster Abbey. His mind wasn't entirely clear either, which would have ended him in front of a screaming trainer had he been back in CTC. He was reflecting on the shambling corpses of a majority of the Forty Commando, the fact that more than a few were armed and ready to go at the drop of a hat wasn't endearing either, it was straight out of a zombie movie. Granted it might've been something entirely different but the fact that they had a death grip on their belongings made Isaac think that they had gone through rigor mortis.

Shaking his head clear, Isaac kept walking, it had taken a little over a day to get here by bicycle. But getting to Whitehall and trying to find someone there was a priority, be they subordinate or superior, it would help significantly.

---

Duncan Smith was not one to beat around the bush, he got straight to the point and was self described as 'brutally honest'. Most people just called him an asshole. Like the girl and her brother at a bakery (who he assumed their family owned at one point) who he just stole two loaves of bread from. He would've grabbed a cake, but he didn't trust his luck not to drop it straight into the sewer. Regardless he started munching on one of the loaves and kept jogging back to his hideout, a petrol station about two blocks away. It doubled as a corner store so he had food, but he wanted the canned stuff and the preservative packed snacks to last.

Duncan was afraid of being alone, but he didn't want to risk getting brained by a boulder like that poor bastard Piggy did. He'd read Lord of the Flies, and while the philosophical meaning behind the book escaped his attention just barely, hr understood the premise: People were assholes when they had any power. Sure there were some good ones, like Piggy, Simon, and those who had no concept of control like the toddlers, but everyone else was capable of inhumane acts. So he stayed alone, despite his fear of isolation, because his fear of death was higher on the pecking order.

---

Şirin Gursultur was no stranger to acts of racism, what with the rise of right wing politics and the recent surge of migrants. But before everyhting went to the hounds no one tried to stab her at least... She didn't have to cut someone's wrist to the bone either. She ignored the raving screams of the racist chav and kept running, she didn't quite care if the man bled like a stuck pig and died.

She kept running for a significant amount of time, she paused after she felt her lungs screaming for a break, she nearly collapsed to the cobble road. But remained standing, breathing quite heavily. Looking down at herself she noticed she was drenched in the blood of the man whose wrist she ruined. She was also shaking like a leaf. Sighing she slowly came to the realization that she'd need to clean it off, as leaving it on would be unsanitary. If the man had any transmissible diseases than it'd be a bit late, but at least she wouldn't be able to spread it much further. Granted she'd need privacy for that, so she kept moving through the city. Hoping she wouldn't get spotted by any of the more territorial groups sprouting up.

[Altito Asmoro]

Sherry Harker

"Screw that bitch!
Screw that bitch!
Stick it in her orifice!
With a big ooh-ahh and a lovely virgin squeal,
Stick that bloody orifice!"

The chant was heard from below, as Sherry peeked behind the curtain. After the outbreak, Sherry took whatever she had left and retreated to the nearest apartment. Having watched The Walking Dead even though she's no fan of it (too gory, she said), she knows how to make herself safe first.

Of course, her rational-minded personality almost costed her life few times while on her way to the nearest building, which is just a small apartment. Not even a high one, to be fair. She hid herself inside one of the abandoned room on the first floor, because frankly, the upper floors are full of the adults. The dead and the...whatever they are now.

She hope her family's safe, but it kind of...unlikely. Sadly, she was alone since the separation with her friends. Armed with the bow and arrows, she looked for food inside the first floor, only found few.

As she looked outside, apparently the street gangs had found themselves a new...fresh girl. She wants to saves her...but, it would be a suicide if going alone...a tears dropped from her eyes, cried in pain. The pain of the world and the pain of whatever things that will happens to the girl...she had seen one. Well, the body of the mangled girl, raped. Still alive, she begged for death and Sherry reluctantly obliged. Her first kill is not some evil guy, but a girl who beg for mercy.

---

What a sad, sad world now. Meaning she has to find allies, supports, friends, if she wants to survives. Beside, 7 steel-tipped arrows and a bow is no match for a street gangs armed with whatever weapons they can find.

[Manitriton]

Jake was running. Running from flesh eating zombie parents? No. Running from psycho teenagers?
Yes. He ducked down an alley, pausing for breath.
"Dammit!" He cursed. He started running again, sword clanging against his side, arrows shifting. He ran down the alley, ducking occasionally. He ran past a bread shop, and ducked inside. He then proceeded to steal two loaves of bread, and ran off again. He ran past Cleopatras needle at the side of the Thames, and stopped running. He needed to look for someone, fast. After all, two people were better than one, and five people, even better. He turned around, looking for an ally.

[Gvozdevsk]

Tahmineh Ahmadzadeh

About a week ago, a mosque would be the last place someone would find Tahmineh. Calling her a devout Muslim would be the overstatement of the century. Yet here she was, in a mosque. She had come to see them as sort of safehouses. Sure, they had also become targets for roving gangs of racists, now free to do whatever they want to anyone who's not white, but the mosques were generally safe. This particular mosque that Tahmineh was in had been shot at last night, a group of chavs who got their hands on some machine guns hosed the place down, luckily causing no casualties as Tahmineh was the only one in this mosque at the moment. Tahmineh could have shot back, she had some kind of rifle, she called it a M4 because that's what one of her male friends had called it, but the gun was distinctly marked as "L119A2" rather then "M4," not that she would know what the difference was.

But she didn't want to shoot back, she didn't even know how to use a gun and was afraid to kill someone. She knew she'd probably have no choice at some point, but for now she would rather just have it for the intimidation factor, even if it was a fairly heavy weapon.

Suddenly, Tahmineh heard the front door of the mosque open. She grabbed her weapon and pointed at the door. He adrenaline was rushing, this was it, it was going to have to be her time to kill. But instead of being greeted by a gang of chavs, it was another kid who was Middle Eastern in appearance, probably another Muslim kid who had the idea of using the mosques throughout London as safehouses. Tahmineh dropped her gun and stood up from behind the overturned table she had used as cover.

"Someone's not dressed for the mosque," the boy who had just arrived said, pointing out Tahmineh's outfit, trying to crack a joke. She was wearing a pair of black and white striped leggings, a black shit that was relatively form fitting and a pair of boots that came to a few inches above her ankles, which were the first pair of shoes that weren't heels that she could find when it was time to evacuate. She also had a light weight, knee length trench coat in an off white color that was sitting in the floor as she had been using it as a blanket the night before.

"I don't think Allah really cares right now," she replied, not looking in the boy's direction. She was sure he only had one thought in his head upon seeing Tahmineh, and it was something she had no interest in anyway.

"You know, it's dangerous out there for a beautiful girl like you, especially if you're a Muslim with all these racist gangs running around." The boy said as he sat down. Tahmineh's suspicions pretty much confirmed.

"I have a gun and I've survived this long," Tahmineh said angrily as she glared over at the boy. "And just because it's the end of the world, you calling me beautiful still isn't enough to get in my pants." The boy got the message, but he at least had something useful to add.

"Just warning you, I was running from a group of chavs not far from here. A couple of them had assault rifles."

Chavs with assault rifles, probably the same ones who shot up this mosque last night. They'd probably be back soon and Tahmineh didn't want to stick around for that. She put on her plate carrier, minus the ballistic plates which she ditched as soon as she looted it because they were way too heavy for her, threw on her jacket, and picked up her rifle. It was time to leave. She unplugged her pink iPhone from its charger, which she stuffed into her backpack before putting it on her back. She brought up the maps app on her phone and tried to look for something worthwhile in the area. About a kilometer away there was a Starbucks. Would probably be abandoned, definitely wouldn't be a target for racist chavs, and might even have some food left. It would probably be a decent place to hide.

She stepped out into the cool London morning. She still couldn't get used to how quiet the city was. The only sounds were the sounds of animals, occasional gunfire in the distance, and a car horn every once in a while. The gunfire was the most scary part for Tahmineh. When she was shot at last night, all she did was take cover and pray that she wouldn't get hit. She couldn't get in a gunfight, she'd probably die. And for this reason, she was thankful that guns had, for the most part, been illegal in the UK. If this was America, she would certainly be dead by now.

She made it to the Starbucks with little incident. With daylight, the worst of the worst would be in hiding, it was easier for them to get away with their activities at night. Anyone who tried to mess with her saw her gun and ran away. Not that she would have been able to shoot them if the gun didn't scare them off.

Arriving at the Starbucks, she spotted a blood trail that came from inside, and went into an alley. Rationally she didn't want to follow the blood trail, but morbid curiosity took over. This was, in a way, kind of exciting. It was like she was about to be the person in a detective show who finds the dead body. She followed the trail and found a body slumped against the wall, a stab wound in the stomach. The body was in a pretty bad state of decay. Tahmineh wanted to scream, but all she could manage to do was throw up all over the body. She ran back inside of the store and sat herself down behind the counter, rifle in her lap, breathing heavily and refusing to move. Not only was she absolutely disgusted at the sight of a real rotting corpse, but she was terrified, terrified that soon she would be a rotting corpse propped up against a wall in an alley.

[Grande Republic of Arcadia]

London ,England

James Munche

3 days earlier

He had his m4 on his back and he only had two magazines of ammo. He was luck he managed to find it. He walked down the street and went to his small safe house. He had all of up stairs clear and thats where he lived. He opened his bag to put what he scavenged on his bed, he pulled out a palyboy, a .45 ammunition bullet, a knife sharpener ,and a new notebook. He put that stuff away and opened the attic he started working on a makeshift room for extra space. He started working on that after he barricaded the stairs and put a door at the stairs. He was now working on putting a part of a table for the wall.

As night fell he went to his 'Kitchen' all it was was a room with a mini-fridge that he had found with a table. He opened a bag of chips and started eating. He was heating up a can of beans with a camp stove he had found at a sporting goods store. other than that all he had was a radio and a Tv. The power still worked so he went on the Tv looking for a signal, but all he found was a man in ireland yelling some paranoid bullshit. he soon turned off the tv and looked around and secured his safe house and went to sleep

Veronica Wright
She had gotten to the safe house late and she went up the stairs and tried to open the door. The door James made was a pain in the ass but it gave her a sense of mind. "James!, James! are you there?" she yelled and he said "Coming!" He soon unlocked the door and let her in. He locked the door behind her and asked "So where were you?" She replied "I got some food for tomorrow." SHe showed him the duck that she killed with her knife.

She went to take a shower with cold water and she got into bed. There was only one bed left james had dismantled the othrs for the room on the roof. James had fallen back asleep and sh got in bed and soon followed

[Russian people of america]

Tower Of London, West London Gang

The West London Gang was by comparison to other gangs, civilized. It had a stable and clear leadership, it had food and weapons to defend itself and it had warm beds and a secure fort to which they could relax without fear. For better or for worse, woman have the same roll as men, share in the same duties, and are protected by the groups 'Guard'. The gang was led by a man, James White. The boy had been fortunate enough to find a certain book. Of course as a child he had learned what Communism was, but he had never really had an interest in it. However, with a disorganized, rowdy and dangerous gang he needed to provide a stable system, lest he be ousted from his leadership. The Communist Manifesto just happened to provide him with the answer to his problem, and before long he'd built a group he could be proud of. Of course they'd been hesitant to give up they're property to him, but that changed after the group was attacked by the zombies. Four boys dead, four good boys killed because they didn't have the same weapons as they're comrades. People shaped up quickly, and before long he was in control of his own little socialist group. Lenin would be proud of him, if he were still around. Of course he had a certain degree of control over his group, which might have irritated people. So much change in such a short time, he'd worked so hard and it showed on his face. People were happy though, and that was the most important thing. They were motivated and happy. What was that quote, he'd heard it before from his teacher in the US. Any man who'd sacrifice liberty for safety deserves neither liberty nor safety.

Obviously Benjamin Franklin had been wrong, because liberty out here meant either rape, torture, starvation and death. No, Security meant everything, they were protected, they're food stores were protected, they were protected. James had already investigated a large part of the castle, distributing rooms by lot rather than by preference so no one could complain. Jobs were also decided in this way, except in cases where ones skills couldn't be utilized. For example the groups cook, a girl named Jessie. Her small frame and timidness would make her a poor warrior, but she was a skilled cook. It was a luxury nowadays, having something other than just bread or ramen noodles. A warm meal always cheered the gang up. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, the group hadn't been around that long, how long had it been since everything collapsed? People were more loyal and productive with a full stomach though, this he had learned. Unfortunately his group wasn't absolutely perfect, they're luxury's made the other, uncivilized gangs more and more violent towards them. It was becoming more recent that they had to fight off attackers. Not only that but news had traveled along that another major gang had formed up, calling themselves the Stamford boys. His 'Scouts' reported that the group was larger, and seemed to kidnap girls off the street, like any other street gang. They seemed unruly and unorganized, or at least not as organized as his group was, but more so than the common gangs. He didn't know what to think of it, except that they needed to be weary of the new group. He doubted they'd just attack the tower, considering it'd be suicide. Or at the least it'd cause too large a loss of life to be worth it. That was just what he thought though, he could be wrong.

The group had targeted this place as a headquarters for many reasons, one of which were the Crown Jewels. Seeing them in person was incredible, but James was smarter than his lieutenants. He knew that people would want to get they're hands on the artifacts as soon as possible, and so he once again made a decisive decision. All the weapons were taken and stored in what was deemed the armory. The rest was also seized, but he was no fool, no king. The artifacts were to be held and awarded for acts of bravery, sacrifice or by facing unnatural hardship for the group. They would serve as an incentive, something he knew many socialist society's lacked. Though, in all honesty he knew the incentive wouldn't be needed, the gang was content, and he knew they'd die before giving up the luxuries that came with the tower. They never wanted to face the hardships other gangs suffered ever again. It gave them a certain, admirable drive. James snapped back from his thoughts as his second lieutenant prodded him. "We still have room available, some of the others think we should offer safety to the city's other inhabitants. It could be dangerous though, spies and the lot". He expressed his concern before being waved away by James. "No, that other group outnumbers us by too large a margin, we need to grow as a society in order to protect ourselves. Take that old megaphone, hotwire that jeep out front and explore a little. Offer safety within the confines of our tower, make sure you mention that Woman are treated equally, otherwise i doubt they'd listen" he finished, yawning before heading to bed.

The Lieutenant's name was Peter, a member of James gang prior to the outbreak of the disease. he did as he was told, taking the megaphone and hotwiring a small jeep just outside the fortification. It purred to life and he was off, taking two other guards in case they were attacked. "Boys and Girls of London! The West London Gang is offering you a place in our gang, down in the Tower of London! Boys and Girls alike enjoy equal rights as a result of our leaders generosity. We offer soft beds, warm meals and fresh water! And most of all we offer protection from the zombies! Join us at the Tower, you won't regret it!"

[Anowa]

Alexander Carter didn't spend all his time on Buckingham's feature balcony. There were times he instead patrolled the fence, he always has someone else go on the opposite side to catch anything he missed. The reason he was on the balcony today however, was because he had recently gotten back from a scavenging mission, with two others: Marcus and Gillian. They'd managed to get a hoard of canned goods, which was always wanted. Weapons were always good too, but with the amount of guns they'd gotten from the deceased guards in and around the palace, they could fight a war... If they had any ammo. For whatever reason the Queen's Guard didn't carry ammunition on them, nor in their barracks, just an empty rifle and a bayonet. Of course, that meant most everyone had a knife, and having some twenty-odd people holding rifles and stationed a fenced off palace was a silly target. So any incursions into the grounds were unlikely.

Speaking of his companions, they had been doing well, all ate together, and only ate what was needed. It seemed that everyone knowing each other, and their hardships together only proved to strengthen the bond between them. They dared not ruin it for the others, what would happen wouldn't be very good if someone felt cheated or betrayed in these times. Alex hoped no one would feel the need to got that far.

Alexander heard the announcement then, it seemed to come from the east, mentions of the Tower of London carried across the wind. At least Alexander now had a new goal: find out if those in the tower were a threat or not. But that could wait for a day or two.

---

Isaac's search of Whitehall proved fruitless, just corpses and... upright corpses. He had yet to fire his weapon at any, he was trying to preserve ammo but perhaps he was preserving it a bit too well.

He froze up and strained his ears as an announcement was carried on the wind. Someone from the Tower. This meant people were alive, and thus it was Isaac's duty to see if they had everything they needed at the very least. He started jogging, he expected his arrival before nightfall. Honestly he was just glad he wasn't the only on alive anymore.

[Sveltlana]

Mateo Laguardia
Alleyway near the Imperial College, London
[Day 1]* (insert date here)

"Clear?"

"Clear."

Two young men and a young woman rustled across a small alleyway, their faces hidden underneath a grey hood. That was the only way you could wander around London these days, it seemed. Silent, pale, like unsaturated shadows sliding across a surface. Fortunately, the skies weren't clear. They wouldn't risk trying to move during daylight with such deliberate brashness. In front of them, another grey shadow peered over a broken Jersey barrier. The group slowly walked to where their eagle-eyed friend surveyed the landscape ahead. The streets looked empty.

"Adults?"

"Don't see any."

"Gangs?"

"Nope."

For the last week, such had been the life of the young survivors. The Imperial College had opened its doors to the incoming class of freshmen, allowing them a guided tour of the campus, highlighting its scenic locations and modern installations. Then the professors went—well—insane, and then it was the guides; soon after, even the younglings turned on each other. Sixty of them had, over the course of the week, left the dorms and tried to forage a living outside in the world they had once thought of as their home. Needless to say, those that had been unlucky enough to decide to leave the campus were probably dead—or, if unluckier still, had been taken as hostages by the gangs that wandered around the barren city, and been raped if female, or beaten to the death if male.

"Alright," said their leader. "We'll rest here for the night."

The building had once been a toy store. Despite the empty surroundings that had changed a once picturesque borough of the city into a lifeless husk, the toy store had retained its childish innocence. Inside, the faint ringing of a music box bathed the locale with an atmosphere of melancholy. It was by no means a large shop—the lower floor had only a few alleys for its wares, which had already been tossed and turned by scavengers before the four arrived.

"Hopefully it was the local mafia that tussled this place," said Garrett. "That way we don't have to worry about scavengers coming in during the night.

On the other side of the door, tucked away in a corner, the store's counter was flanked by a small office that appeared to have been the manager's. Next to it, a door indicated that there must be some sort of access to the upper levels of the building, although it was only a couple of storeys high. Rather than explore it, and risk having to come face-to-face with a mob of 'adults', the survivors decided to bolt the door shut.

"Alright," said Garrett. "Lucy is going in the manager's office. We don't want any hooligans to see a woman with us. Go on ahead." The others nodded in approval.

"We'll take watches of two. You two gents will be first. If anyone asks, lead them to me. I'll be the one to answer their questions." They nodded again. "Alright. I'm sleeping for a while. Don't wake me up unless there's an emergency." Garrett walked towards the back of the store and was obscured by one of the shelves, still bristling with new toys.

"Bloody hell," said Ben. "I knew it was a mistake coming along with these two."

"They're gonna bonk like if there was no tomorrow," said Mateo.

"Well, to be fair, there's a high chance that there will be no tomorrow for us."

"I suppose you could say that."

The two, still in their camouflaged grey outfits, had strategically chosen to sit behind some crumbled shelves. These provided them with a mantle of darkness that shielded them from the outside, while allowing them to cautiously monitor the surroundings of the old store. Ben had the best weapon of the lot—a wooden baseball bat. He was the strongest, too. Mateo, who was somewhat athletic, had been charged with carrying the bulk of their supplies, a heavy backpack with food for several days.

"Hey, man," began Ben, "do you think Garrett will let us take turns with his girlfriend? I think it's only fair."

"You bet your ass it's only fair."

"It's only fair."

Outside, the grey street remained empty. Far away in the night, the crackle of teenage laughter came towards the store like peals of lighting, sporadically rising in strength until a certain climax, and then fading back into obscurity. They must be fighting, thought Mateo. That's when they get excited. When they pit one on one and let the best man emerge triumphant, a medieval contest that lacked the chivalry or the arms that made that sort of melee somewhat more civilised.

Some uncomfortably loud moans started to escape from the manager's office. Ben cupped his hands and howled towards the office: "Jesus, man! Shut the fuck up over there!"

"Hey, fuck you, son of a bitch!" faintly answered Garrett's voice from inside.

"Hey, man, do you think we can have a turn after you? It's only fair!"

"It's only fair!" echoed Mateo.

"We can take turns sticking a finger up your arse!" answered the voice.

The two broke down in laughter. Outside, the night remained grey and dark.

"Bloody hell," said Ben. "Leave everyone under eighteen alone for five seconds, and they're gonna try to bonk like rabbits or something."

"Well, they don't have anything keeping them in check anymore. That's for certain."

"Nobody's making the pill anymore."

"For better or worse."

"For worse, I think." Ben grinned. "Why the hell didn't we stay at a pub. I really feel like getting plastered right now."

"Yeah?"

"Ass over heels plastered. Rat faced."

"You and me both."

"Let's get out of here and go to the pub."

[True Christopia]

Max Crowe

---

Max was backed up in an alley, frantically looking around the small interior for an escape. None could be found. She held up her arms as she bumped into the wall behind her "L-Look, money's useless now, right? C-Can we just call it a day?" she stammered, as the two boys advanced on her with maniacal grins. They were two years older than her, wore leather jackets and one had a large baseball bat in one hand.

"Oh - we know that." The one with the baseball bat said. His name was Roger - she'd known them both before the sickness. In-fact, she owed them quite a bit of money. Well, in her eyes anyway. She could feel the small knife pressed up against her thigh in her pocket. It was folded, but could easily be unfolded. It was rather annoying, actually.

"You still owe us, though - and we're here to collect our debt." the other said. His name was Brandon. Roger gripped her shoulder and shoved her to the floor, making her grunt as she hit the cold concrete. Coughing, she held her arm up "No, stop! I can still get you things - food, water - " She was cut short as the baseball bat came down on her stomach, making her yell out in pain "Shut up, bitch!" Roger yelled, as they both continued to advance...

[Lancearc]

Jesse Timothy Glenn

The bag on his back seemed to be growing heavier and heavier with each step he took, packed to the brim with all the things that he needed to utilize what he knew - tools and supplies, without which he was very little use to himself or anyone else, and lacking in all knowledge of what to do to survive. It was essential that he had these things, no matter how heavy it all seemed or how tired it made his shoulders to haul it across London. Separate from its utility and keeping him upright and breathing, it reminded him of just weeks before, a much simpler existence, when he could expect safety and food on his plate consistently. When he was free to pursue his interests and nerd out a bit to his pals, to help them with some of their problems or fix their boards. Perhaps that was the larger part of the reason he refused to part with these things, despite even how useful they were, especially now.

Skulking through the darker alleys and side roads, staying low and moving quickly was even more difficult considering the weight of the pack. He had been shut up inside his own miniature fortress for the entirety of the end of his world save for the past two days, when food was running out and his sanity was diminishing even more quickly. Fresh air and some...companionship. Of any kind. Anyone who was still willing to be civil, friendly, to not kill him on sight for the indispensable supplies he carried. It didn't matter much to him who it was or even if they liked him or not. A simple conversation would go a long way for the haggard teen right about then.

Jesse glanced down at the 'weapon' in his hands as he bypassed yet another main street, avoiding the broken down vehicles in the road so as to not set off any kind of car alarms, and staying away from anywhere there might be hostile street gangs or that the walking sort-of-dead were patrolling. He was still a bit of an amateur when it came to constructing methods of self-defense, but he felt like he was coming along quite nicely. The makeshift spear in his hands hadn't yet been used in the field, but he'd tested it on hard and soft dummies of his own creation as well, and it seemed to hold together under pretty high amounts of stress, and the edge that a hefty piece of a car bumper could hold when it was properly wittled away and sharpened was surprising to him. Still, the balancing was awkward and it just looked a bit silly.

The same went for the knives he kept, one at his hip, two strapped to his legs at knee-level. They were great for utility use and keeping himself alive, but they too looked more than a bit makeshift. He had all the time in the world to hone his craft, so he didn't stress overly much about it. He had plenty of things to spend his stressing on anyway.

By this time Jesse had stumbled into what was once an apartment building, now destined to later be a decrepit ruin. It was well on its way, the doors standing wide open, blood staining the walls and carpet of the ground level. He quivered at the sight of two corpses to match the blood spatterings on the floor, feeling a turning sensation in his stomach as he shifted his eyes towards the ceiling, exhaling slowly. Carefully, he made sure he didn't step on them as he approached the stairwell. He felt like it would be best to find a safe haven for rest at this point, his legs and shoulders growing weary from the haul.

The sickness in his gut faded as he ascended to the first floor, then the second, the third. He carefully stepped up each rising flight, glancing behind him, listening carefully, though he was only able to hear himself breathing and the pounding in his chest at the anxiety of waiting to discover if he was truly alone or not. On the sixth and top floor he was forced to stop, and enter a short hallway, home to, well...homes. He quickly made for the nearest door, finding it unlocked, heading inside and quietly shutting it behind him.

The scene inside filled him with sadness. A home quickly abandoned, clothes strewn about the floor in the living room and bedroom, pictures taken from their frames, suitcases left half-packed and half-opened with jean legs hanging out of them. He stopped to wonder if any of these people had managed to make it out of London...it wasn't at all likely. A fairy tale ending for them just wasn't realistic in his mind.

This was the respite he was looking for however. He took relief in that, managing to shrug the heavy backpack off of his shoulders and slide onto the bed in the single bedroom of the abandoned apartment. It was exceptionally comfy, even in times like these. No matter how hard he tried however, he couldn't find a wink of sleep. He simply chose to lie there, embraced warmly by the sheets, listening to the outside world and any intrusion on his solitude.

[Beiarusia]

Cadence Tallow
Somewhere in London

---

Cadence Tallow was, for lack of a better and more intriguing word, lost. Not that it much mattered anymore. The entire world was lost now. Maybe there was some deeper meaning to be had in that thought, but Cadence neither knew nor cared to know, and was content to merely wander what was left for however long she could. There was little point in doing much else.

It had been maybe a week since the end of the world; five days since the loss of her father; a day and a half since abandoning her old gang. The rowdy bunch of boys and girls had always been delinquent, but now they were something more. Something worse. Cadence was no saint, not by a long shot, but even she had morals for which to live by, and to stay with her so-called friends would be to lose what little part of herself which remained. So she’d grabbed her things – and nicked herself a treat for the road – and ran under the cover of night. No one tried to stop her, and no one had come after her since. Still, having escaped from one problem Cadence was confronted by a whole host of others. London, or what was left of London, was little better than a warzone which one might have seen on the telly. Gangs had taken control of the streets, and the husks that had formerly been people wandered in ravenous packs.. Truly a nightmare scenario turn real.

“Bloody hell,” Cadence muttered to herself upon catching sight of an abandoned bus. Whoever had been hiding inside had been torn apart, rather recently at that, the blood only just visible in dark splotches against the bright red paint. Cadence kept her distance as she hurried on, the only sound to break the oppressing silence being the distant gunshots and the creak of her skateboard’s wheels. Cadence reached into her jacket pocket and reassuringly felt the handle of the screwdriver.

The living rope around the girl’s neck tightened as Dakota, the girl’s pet grass snake, poked its head out from where it had been hiding under the jacket, flicking its tongue against the bare skin of her lower jaw. Almost absentmindedly Cadence reached a hand up to scratch at the snake’s head.

Time seemed to pass slowly as the girl wandered through the dead city, moving down one street to the other with little sense of direction or care. The roads were empty save for the many abandoned cars and the tank on the corner, and those that weren’t Cadence avoided, not knowing if what awaited her was a gang or something worse. Nothing bothered the girl as she made her pace. It was peaceful, almost, in a frightening apocalyptic sort of way. Eventually, though, Cadence came to a stop, her eye having caught sight of a candy shop that still looked relatively intact. Still a child at heart, the idea of candy was too tempting an offer to pass up. Rolling to a halt outside the door, Cadence stepped down from her board and pressed her face against the glass to peer inside. The lights were still on, and despite some mess here or there the place still seemed well stocked. Surprisingly.

The girl was about to enter when she saw the boy’s reflection behind her.

Cadence spun around to face the boy. He was older than her, and very much bigger than she could ever hope to be. He looked ragged and dirty, his face covered in dirt, grime, and blood that had been smeared in a weak attempt to wash up. His voice was young and light despite the harsh appearance. “Need help?” he asked in a manner that was all but helpful.

The girl shook her head. “I’m good. Just passing by.”

“Maybe you should stick around. We got room for one more.”

A few other boys, all equally as dirty as the first, emerged from where they had been watching from the shadows, stepping out onto the street in a loose semi-circle behind their apparent leader. One carried a baseball bat, another a butcher’s knife, and one hefted a military rifle on his shoulder.

Cadence tensed but tried to keep her cool. “I’m with someone already,” she lied, making reference to the old gang she had left behind the day before.

The leader of the gang looked around. He next words were cold. “I don’t see ‘em.”

As if on cue the gang of seven boys closed in, tightening around the girl like a noose and blocking any chance of escape. The leader stepped forward, close enough for Cadence to smell his foul breath, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. She shook him off only for the boy to reach out again, grabbing her this time with a vice-like grip. His dark eyes bore into her own with malice.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to,” he said with a curl to his lips. “Maybe if you behave, and we like what we find, we’ll even keep you around for a bit. Sound fair?”

Panic flooded into the girl as understanding dawned on her. Cadence pushed at the boy but he had already grabbed her and was wrestling to pin her down as the others yelled and shouted and chanted. Her back was thrown against the glass window of the candy store as the boy choked her, another hand reaching into her jacket to grab at what little there was to fondle.

"Screw that bitch!”

“Screw that bitch!”

“Stick it in her orifice!”

“With a big ooh-ahh and a lovely virgin squeal!”

“Stick that bloody orifice!"

Cadence struggled to pry the boy off her, but he was bigger and stronger than she was, and his hold around her neck was quickly sapping her of energy. His hands were under her shirt now, caressing her side and sliding lower down towards her pants, fingers prodding beneath the belt for stumbling to undo the button and managing to only rip it free of the denim. Cadence tried to kick but the boy pressed his weight against her as he touched her.

“It’s not so bad now is it love?” he whispered into her ear.

He choked her tighter as she struggled, but then he himself froze, a look of mild surprise on his face. Dakota, still looped around the girl’s shoulders, was now investigating the foreign hand so close to its own head with a flick of the tongue. The snake then pushed its way out from under the jacket and the boy, fear in his eyes, screamed as he fell back and away from the girl. Cadence didn’t allow this opportunity to slip pass. Quick as lightning, she reached into her jacket pocket for the screwdriver and drove the shiny metal as deep as she could into the boy’s leg, eliciting a high pitched scream as pain overtook him. Withdrawing the makeshift weapon, she pushed the boy and he stumbled into his now panicking cohorts and falling to the ground. Cadence kicked the edge of her board, flinging it high enough for her to grab, and ran as fast as she could with a hand holding up her now buttonless pants, pushing her way through the boys and shaking off the weak attempt to grab her. There was a confusion among them, and by the time a few decided to go after the girl she was already too far gone.

The boys were long out of sight when Cadence finally slowed to a stop. She was breathing hard, panting almost, and looking behind her to see if anyone had followed. A few had come after her but the girl had lost them at the convenience store, and it looked to remain that way. Safe, the girl wandered down the street for a moment longer before collapsing against the side of a building. She drew her legs up to her chest and, despite her tough exterior, she cried like she hadn’t since her dad had died all those days ago. Eventually the tears ran out and the girl was left with a runny nose and her contacts itching, yet she didn’t move from where she was, too exhausted now.

Cadence simply sat where she was, watching the world crumble further, as her pet snake licked at her ear.

[Relikai]

Hayatsuki Sakura

With Hillary taking care of their home, a small four-room apartment with limited running water and electricity, Sakura decided to take a small stroll around the block. It did well to heal her head, get her mind off things. Her rifle was slung behind her, Sakura using it only as a tool to intimidate.

Intimidation which does not seem necessary when she saw the crying girl in front of her as she rounded the corner. A snake was at her ear, something which Sakura was afraid of, but could still hold her ground against. The girl looked worse, totally out of sync in the world as she cried.

"Hey..." Sakura said as she brushed her foot against the girl. She looked like hell, her shirt ruffled and her pants... Memories of the previous day shot through Sakura's head, the girl reminding her of her groupmate, raped and committed suicide.

"Hey, it's not safe here." Sakura said in her Japanese accent, trying to get the girl to move. "I..." Does she really want to do this? To provide shelter for a suspicious girl who could unlock the door at night, releasing a pack of hungry wolves on Hillary and her?

We'll keep that for later. A girl, no matter who, is never safe from boys.

"I have a safe place. Come on quick."

[The Landfish Colonies]

Palace of Westminster
Jack Wallcroft

232 Westminster Detachment of the Army Cadet Force was meant to have been moved to Westminster School before shit hit the fan. Supposedly, the school was meant to be a gathering spot where children's parents could pick them up and take them home (though in hindsight, that had not been the best idea). It had only taken a few days before all the Cadet Instructors and Teachers were either dead, or infected. Without protection or order, and with adults ripping into kids, the school had fallen apart fast, becoming nothing more than a slaughter house.

Jack Wallcroft had been lucky to escape, along with his gang of students and cadets, 25 cadets and 32 Westminster students ranging in age from 12 to 18 years old. The group had hauled ass away from the school, but not for long. There were more adults outside, chasing the small group of the streets.

To be honest, Jack thought to himself, there chosen safe house could have been worse. He'd always wanted to see the inside of the Palace of Westminster, and it wasn't disappointing. If you could ignore the lifeless corpses scattered about, and the zombies that wandered the hallways, it was actually quite beautiful. But why did it have to be so big?

They'd been attempting to clear the building for four days now, and this was their final step. The House of Commons Chamber had been boarded off when they arrived, with the words "Do Not Open", scrawled across the heavy wood door, even though the message was not entirely necessary. Even if the adults inside hadn't been making enough noise to be heard through out the building, the smell was a dead giveaway. They could be heard clawing at the door from the opposite side as the children cleared the boards, and prepared for a fight. They only had two guns with ammo, P226 Pistols taken from the Cadet Instructors back at the school. The rest held a menagerie of weapons, crowbars, cricket bats, knives and hammers, and they gathered in a Semi-Circle around the door with the two guns in the front. Jack and his best friend Toby MacMillan, or Mac, stood at the ready, in tense silence as the last boards were removed from the door by two Westminster students, getting ready to pull them open.

Jack took a deep breath, gripping his pistol tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was a soldier, he thought to himself, just like his father. These people were his team, and it was his job to make sure that they were all safe by the end. They'd lost three people, two students and one cadet, and the rest were all weary by now. They just wanted to be done with this, and Jack felt the same way.

"Alright," He sighed, "Let's do this. There's not gonna be much space in there, so watch wear your swinging. Aim for the center mass, and make sure they keep their distance. Make sure you stay in formation, and don't break ranks, understood?" The others gave him a nervous 'Yes Sir.'

Jack nodded and swallowed loudly, "Remember guys. These aren't people anymore. They're monsters. If we don't do this...."

"Jack. Please," Toby spoke up in an odd American-English accent mix, "If y'all see a Zombie just fucking kill it, m'kay?" He reached up, adjusting his navy blue beret to keep his long hair back, "Open the door."

With a creak, two students pulled the door open and adults began to stumble out into a barrage of bullets from Jack and Toby's pistols. Once the magazines ran dry, the two picked up a pair of cricket bats they'd taken from the school, rushing forward along with the other children wearing cadet uniforms, backed up by the students, pushing the adults back into the Chamber.

[Beiarusia]

Hayatsuki Sakura

Cadence Tallow
Somewhere in London

---

Cadence nearly jumped from her skin as a foot brushed up against her. Holding the screwdriver close to herself, she was surprised to see another girl a bit older than herself, a foreigner given the appearance and accent. Cadence mentally kicked herself for allowing the stranger to get as close as she had unnoticed, a fatal mistake in this world, but relaxed as soon as she realized that the older girl wasn’t a threat. She was trying to help her even. The first meaningful contact in a day and a half and Cadence was a wreck. A great first impression.

The girl stood and was tempted to deny her offer. She didn’t know this person and, after all she’d been through, wanted nothing more than to be alone. But charity wasn’t something to be turned down when given so freely.

Pocketing the screwdriver, Cadence said, “Lead the way,” and followed after the stranger with nary a word.

[Lancearc]

Palace of Westminster
Jack Wallcroft

232 Westminster Detachment of the Army Cadet Force was meant to have been moved to Westminster School before shit hit the fan. Supposedly, the school was meant to be a gathering spot where children's parents could pick them up and take them home (though in hindsight, that had not been the best idea). It had only taken a few days before all the Cadet Instructors and Teachers were either dead, or infected. Without protection or order, and with adults ripping into kids, the school had fallen apart fast, becoming nothing more than a slaughter house.

Jack Wallcroft had been lucky to escape, along with his gang of students and cadets, 12 cadets and 15 Westminster students ranging in age from 12 to 18 years old. The group had hauled ass away from the school, but not for long. There were more adults outside, chasing the small group of the streets.

To be honest, Jack thought to himself, there chosen safe house could have been worse. He'd always wanted to see the inside of the Palace of Westminster, and it wasn't disappointing. If you could ignore the lifeless corpses scattered about, and the zombies that wandered the hallways, it was actually quite beautiful. But why did it have to be so big?

They'd been attempting to clear the building for four days now, and this was their final step. The House of Commons Chamber had been boarded off when they arrived, with the words "Do Not Open", scrawled across the heavy wood door, even though the message was not entirely necessary. Even if the adults inside hadn't been making enough noise to be heard through out the building, the smell was a dead giveaway. They could be heard clawing at the door from the opposite side as the children cleared the boards, and prepared for a fight. They only had two guns with ammo, P226 Pistols taken from the Cadet Instructors back at the school. The rest held a menagerie of weapons, crowbars, cricket bats, knives and hammers, and they gathered in a Semi-Circle around the door with the two guns in the front. Jack and his best friend Toby MacMillan, or Mac, stood at the ready, in tense silence as the last boards were removed from the door by two Westminster students, getting ready to pull them open.

Jack took a deep breath, gripping his pistol tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was a soldier, he thought to himself, just like his father. These people were his team, and it was his job to make sure that they were all safe by the end. They'd lost three people, two students and one cadet, and the rest were all weary by now. They just wanted to be done with this, and Jack felt the same way.

"Alright," He sighed, "Let's do this. There's not gonna be much space in there, so watch wear your swinging. Aim for the center mass, and make sure they keep their distance. Make sure you stay in formation, and don't break ranks, understood?" The others gave him a nervous 'Yes Sir.'

Jack nodded and swallowed loudly, "Remember guys. These aren't people anymore. They're monsters. If we don't do this...."

"Jack. Please," Toby spoke up in an odd American-English accent mix, "If y'all see a Zombie just fucking kill it, m'kay?" He reached up, adjusting his navy blue beret to keep his long hair back, "Open the door."

With a creak, two students pulled the door open and adults began to stumble out into a barrage of bullets from Jack and Toby's pistols. Once the magazines ran dry, the two picked up a pair of cricket bats they'd taken from the school, rushing forward along with the other children wearing cadet uniforms, backed up by the students, pushing the adults back into the Chamber.

Jesse Timothy Glenn

Even in his solitary and surprisingly comfortable temporary surroundings, sleep eluded Jesse as it had for much of the time since he left his home/fortress and ventured out into the London cityscape post-sickness.When he closed his eyes mixed visions assailed him. There were hopeful ones that may have helped settle him into slumber, the hope of finding others, perhaps even some of his old classmates and friends from school, of settling and turning someplace into an unassailable holdfast. Then there were the far more numerous visions of death, decay, plague, violence, blood, inhumane killings, torture, all the things that came to mind when he really started to ponder what these street gangs and people his age might be capable of given free run of the world, weapons, and time. It unsettled his nerves and made him arise from the apartment's bed, pacing the floor as he gazed out of dirty windows at an overcast London, devoid of many of its inhabitants, mostly abandoned, falling into disrepair after a few weeks alone.

His quiet stupor of thought was broken when he heard a brief burst of low-intensity gunfire. It wasn't much, and it sounded a bit distant, but it was there. His initial reaction was to gather his things and leave, and that's exactly how he responded. Without giving much in the way of second thoughts he made sure that he had his makeshift spear, his knives, and quickly hefted the heavy backpack of supplies and tools back over his shoulders, fresh from his period of rest and ready to continue his trek for...something across London. Someone.

He headed down the stairwell with remarkable haste, afraid that whoever was firing their weapons was both A, relatively nearby, and B, possibly hostile. He found the exit quickly, leaving with such speed that he paid no mind to the mangled bodies that had nauseated him during his first entrance to the nondescript complex. It took him a moment to reorient himself, but once he was sure of his directions once more he continued on his previous path through a dying city. Again, he kept his head low on the move, growing weary of his surroundings with each unexplained noise or creaking of empty buildings.

Remarkably, Jesse had little clue that he had now found himself along the shore of the River Thames, just across the Westminster Bridge. It was only when he looked up that he realized where his meandering and without-destination path had lead him. Big Ben still stood, the largest clocktower in the world maintained a grandeur, a nobility behind it that was impressive even in the end of the world. It defiantly stood as the world crumbled. He stood, quite inspired by the sight, but also noting that he needed to move quickly across the bridge or risk getting ambushed by some roving gang with his only escape being jumping into a cold river far below.

The Palace of Westminster still stood iconic. His eyes were locked on the structure the entire time he jogged over the Thames, in awe of the construction, and the majesty it still possessed. It appeared as if built to withstand two thousand years without its human builders' care. It was incredible.

The sound of more gunfire startled him out of his state of awe. It had come from inside the palace itself, it seemed, or somewhere in that vicinity.

His common sense told him to flee, but still...he was drawn towards the sound, or to the palace, more likely. If it had indeed come from within the home of parliament, was it likely that a raider gang was setting up within? Possibly. As he slowly walked around however, finding his way to an entrance once barred by a gate securely, he couldn't imagine that a structure so...noble could house thieving, raping, pillaging teens. It was an intuition that could get him killed, but still, it drew him in with grand promises of someone, anyone friendly.

His entrance to the parliament was exceptionally quiet. He entered finding the palace mostly empty, but still ornate, beautiful. His instinct was to cry out, wondering if he was truly alone, if the gunfire he'd heard earlier had come from within. "Hello?" he raised his voice, listening to it resonate throughout the nearby portions of the palace. It was so large that it wasn't likely anyone could hear, only if they happened to be rather near, though he would likely have to seek out anyone inside himself due to the size of it.

[True Christopia]

Max Crowe

---

Roger slowly slunk on-top of Max, taking hold of her waste "Oh, what a lovely gal', eh Bran'?" he said maliciously. It then dawned onto her what was going on. With Roger off guard, she reached into her pocket and took hold of the knife - her fingers gripped around the wooden handle.

Roger, now practically sitting on her stomach, moved his rough hand to her face and gripped her jaw in his hand "This'll pay you're debts nicely, Max." he said, as he reached for the zipper on his pants. Max brought the knife from her pocket, quickly flipping it open and stabbed it into his torso, fitting it deep through his ribs.

He yelled out in pain, falling backwards. Max ripped the blade from his body and quickly scampered to her feet "Fuckin' creeps!" she yelled over her shoulder, but as she did so she noticed Brandon - a much larger boy, and much faster - was chasing after her. A surge of adrenaline flooded her veins as panic began to set in. I could die, she though to herself.

"Help!" She yelled, the boy slowly gaining on her. She knew he had a knife - a bigger one than hers. She wouldn't win a fight against him

"Oh, fuck, help!"

[The Landfish Colonies]

Jesse Timothy Glenn

Even in his solitary and surprisingly comfortable temporary surroundings, sleep eluded Jesse as it had for much of the time since he left his home/fortress and ventured out into the London cityscape post-sickness.When he closed his eyes mixed visions assailed him. There were hopeful ones that may have helped settle him into slumber, the hope of finding others, perhaps even some of his old classmates and friends from school, of settling and turning someplace into an unassailable holdfast. Then there were the far more numerous visions of death, decay, plague, violence, blood, inhumane killings, torture, all the things that came to mind when he really started to ponder what these street gangs and people his age might be capable of given free run of the world, weapons, and time. It unsettled his nerves and made him arise from the apartment's bed, pacing the floor as he gazed out of dirty windows at an overcast London, devoid of many of its inhabitants, mostly abandoned, falling into disrepair after a few weeks alone.

His quiet stupor of thought was broken when he heard a brief burst of low-intensity gunfire. It wasn't much, and it sounded a bit distant, but it was there. His initial reaction was to gather his things and leave, and that's exactly how he responded. Without giving much in the way of second thoughts he made sure that he had his makeshift spear, his knives, and quickly hefted the heavy backpack of supplies and tools back over his shoulders, fresh from his period of rest and ready to continue his trek for...something across London. Someone.

He headed down the stairwell with remarkable haste, afraid that whoever was firing their weapons was both A, relatively nearby, and B, possibly hostile. He found the exit quickly, leaving with such speed that he paid no mind to the mangled bodies that had nauseated him during his first entrance to the nondescript complex. It took him a moment to reorient himself, but once he was sure of his directions once more he continued on his previous path through a dying city. Again, he kept his head low on the move, growing weary of his surroundings with each unexplained noise or creaking of empty buildings.

Remarkably, Jesse had little clue that he had now found himself along the shore of the River Thames, just across the Westminster Bridge. It was only when he looked up that he realized where his meandering and without-destination path had lead him. Big Ben still stood, the largest clocktower in the world maintained a grandeur, a nobility behind it that was impressive even in the end of the world. It defiantly stood as the world crumbled. He stood, quite inspired by the sight, but also noting that he needed to move quickly across the bridge or risk getting ambushed by some roving gang with his only escape being jumping into a cold river far below.

The Palace of Westminster still stood iconic. His eyes were locked on the structure the entire time he jogged over the Thames, in awe of the construction, and the majesty it still possessed. It appeared as if built to withstand two thousand years without its human builders' care. It was incredible.

The sound of more gunfire startled him out of his state of awe. It had come from inside the palace itself, it seemed, or somewhere in that vicinity.

His common sense told him to flee, but still...he was drawn towards the sound, or to the palace, more likely. If it had indeed come from within the home of parliament, was it likely that a raider gang was setting up within? Possibly. As he slowly walked around however, finding his way to an entrance once barred by a gate securely, he couldn't imagine that a structure so...noble could house thieving, raping, pillaging teens. It was an intuition that could get him killed, but still, it drew him in with grand promises of someone, anyone friendly.

His entrance to the parliament was exceptionally quiet. He entered finding the palace mostly empty, but still ornate, beautiful. His instinct was to cry out, wondering if he was truly alone, if the gunfire he'd heard earlier had come from within. "Hello?" he raised his voice, listening to it resonate throughout the nearby portions of the palace. It was so large that it wasn't likely anyone could hear, only if they happened to be rather near, though he would likely have to seek out anyone inside himself due to the size of it.

Palace of Westminster
Toby MacMillan

Toby hefted his cricket bat high above his head, and with a roar brought it smashing down onto the head of an older woman, leaning over a set of benches while snapping at him. The bat landed flat on the back of her head, spraying blood over Toby's already stained Cadet fatigues and sending a shock wave up his arms. He groaned as the woman slid off the bench, leaking blood from her ears, all while old adds played in his head promoting awareness for violence against women. He gave a quiet grin to himself as he rolled his shoulder to recover from the strike, looking around the room for his next target.

They had done well, standing in a circle for the most part and beating down all the adults as they stumbled down to meet them. Now, only one remained far off, standing alone in the back of the chamber. He appeared to have been a middle aged man, dressed in a business suit covered in puss and blood, and blue tie. The man spasmed and hissed as he got closer, barley able to walk on twisted legs. Toby took a step or two nearer, before he actually laughed.

"Hey! Hey guys, check it out!"

"What?" Jack asked, wiping blood from his own bat onto the back of a dispatched adults jacket.

"Yo, you seem him?" Toby pointed to the last adult, "Recognize him?" The was a murmur of 'nos' from around the room, as the other Cadets and Students watched the lame adult. "Fucking David Cameron."

"It can't be." A girl cadet said from atop one of the benches, "It doesn't even look like him. And they wouldn't just leave the Prime Minister here, would they?"

Toby shrugged, "If he was sick, maybe there wasn't a point. Where would they go? Who would even take him there?" Toby hefted his bat back up, holding it like a baseball bat over his shoulder, "Die you fascist fucker!" With a loud crack, the man fell over, and dent in the side of his head. The teen turned around grinning, taking a bow before the others. "Now..." He said panting, "The not so fun part."

Streaks of blood lead down the corridors of Westminster Palace as the House of Commons Chamber was emptied of bodies. There was not enough kids to do it all in one trip, so it would possibly take some time, especially as Jack had taken a group to do some scavenging, hoping to find guns, food, water, or anything useful. But the important thing was, the palace was safe. Or safer then it had been.

"This is disgusting..." one of the Westminster students muttered as he dragged the body of an old woman across the once clean floor.

"Meh, what are you gonna do?" Toby asked. While he'd never been particularly squeamish, but even he was having a hard time holding onto Mr. Cameron's body, "We can't just leave rotting bodies inside. They'll get disease, or more than they already do. You want that shit near your food? Near where you sleep? Breathing in that fresh Cholera smell every morning?" He paused, waiting for a response, "Didn't think so. We'll just burn these guys and be done with them, once and for all. Problem though is we'll need..."

"Hey! Who are you?" The kids dropped the bodies and pulled out their weapons, blunt objects and such, as the uniformed Cadets rushed forward to line up next to Toby, who pulled out his SIG Sauer Pistol. 2 Magazines left, he thought, swinging around to face a young boy who had caught them by surprise.

"Evening, mate." Toby said casually.

[Lancearc]

Jesse Timothy Glenn

Even in his solitary and surprisingly comfortable temporary surroundings, sleep eluded Jesse as it had for much of the time since he left his home/fortress and ventured out into the London cityscape post-sickness.When he closed his eyes mixed visions assailed him. There were hopeful ones that may have helped settle him into slumber, the hope of finding others, perhaps even some of his old classmates and friends from school, of settling and turning someplace into an unassailable holdfast. Then there were the far more numerous visions of death, decay, plague, violence, blood, inhumane killings, torture, all the things that came to mind when he really started to ponder what these street gangs and people his age might be capable of given free run of the world, weapons, and time. It unsettled his nerves and made him arise from the apartment's bed, pacing the floor as he gazed out of dirty windows at an overcast London, devoid of many of its inhabitants, mostly abandoned, falling into disrepair after a few weeks alone.

His quiet stupor of thought was broken when he heard a brief burst of low-intensity gunfire. It wasn't much, and it sounded a bit distant, but it was there. His initial reaction was to gather his things and leave, and that's exactly how he responded. Without giving much in the way of second thoughts he made sure that he had his makeshift spear, his knives, and quickly hefted the heavy backpack of supplies and tools back over his shoulders, fresh from his period of rest and ready to continue his trek for...something across London. Someone.

He headed down the stairwell with remarkable haste, afraid that whoever was firing their weapons was both A, relatively nearby, and B, possibly hostile. He found the exit quickly, leaving with such speed that he paid no mind to the mangled bodies that had nauseated him during his first entrance to the nondescript complex. It took him a moment to reorient himself, but once he was sure of his directions once more he continued on his previous path through a dying city. Again, he kept his head low on the move, growing weary of his surroundings with each unexplained noise or creaking of empty buildings.

Remarkably, Jesse had little clue that he had now found himself along the shore of the River Thames, just across the Westminster Bridge. It was only when he looked up that he realized where his meandering and without-destination path had lead him. Big Ben still stood, the largest clocktower in the world maintained a grandeur, a nobility behind it that was impressive even in the end of the world. It defiantly stood as the world crumbled. He stood, quite inspired by the sight, but also noting that he needed to move quickly across the bridge or risk getting ambushed by some roving gang with his only escape being jumping into a cold river far below.

The Palace of Westminster still stood iconic. His eyes were locked on the structure the entire time he jogged over the Thames, in awe of the construction, and the majesty it still possessed. It appeared as if built to withstand two thousand years without its human builders' care. It was incredible.

The sound of more gunfire startled him out of his state of awe. It had come from inside the palace itself, it seemed, or somewhere in that vicinity.

His common sense told him to flee, but still...he was drawn towards the sound, or to the palace, more likely. If it had indeed come from within the home of parliament, was it likely that a raider gang was setting up within? Possibly. As he slowly walked around however, finding his way to an entrance once barred by a gate securely, he couldn't imagine that a structure so...noble could house thieving, raping, pillaging teens. It was an intuition that could get him killed, but still, it drew him in with grand promises of someone, anyone friendly.

His entrance to the parliament was exceptionally quiet. He entered finding the palace mostly empty, but still ornate, beautiful. His instinct was to cry out, wondering if he was truly alone, if the gunfire he'd heard earlier had come from within. "Hello?" he raised his voice, listening to it resonate throughout the nearby portions of the palace. It was so large that it wasn't likely anyone could hear, only if they happened to be rather near, though he would likely have to seek out anyone inside himself due to the size of it.

Palace of Westminster
Toby MacMillan

Toby hefted his cricket bat high above his head, and with a roar brought it smashing down onto the head of an older woman, leaning over a set of benches while snapping at him. The bat landed flat on the back of her head, spraying blood over Toby's already stained Cadet fatigues and sending a shock wave up his arms. He groaned as the woman slid off the bench, leaking blood from her ears, all while old adds played in his head promoting awareness for violence against women. He gave a quiet grin to himself as he rolled his shoulder to recover from the strike, looking around the room for his next target.

They had done well, standing in a circle for the most part and beating down all the adults as they stumbled down to meet them. Now, only one remained far off, standing alone in the back of the chamber. He appeared to have been a middle aged man, dressed in a business suit covered in puss and blood, and blue tie. The man spasmed and hissed as he got closer, barley able to walk on twisted legs. Toby took a step or two nearer, before he actually laughed.

"Hey! Hey guys, check it out!"

"What?" Jack asked, wiping blood from his own bat onto the back of a dispatched adults jacket.

"Yo, you seem him?" Toby pointed to the last adult, "Recognize him?" The was a murmur of 'nos' from around the room, as the other Cadets and Students watched the lame adult. "Fucking David Cameron."

"It can't be." A girl cadet said from atop one of the benches, "It doesn't even look like him. And they wouldn't just leave the Prime Minister here, would they?"

Toby shrugged, "If he was sick, maybe there wasn't a point. Where would they go? Who would even take him there?" Toby hefted his bat back up, holding it like a baseball bat over his shoulder, "Die you fascist fucker!" With a loud crack, the man fell over, and dent in the side of his head. The teen turned around grinning, taking a bow before the others. "Now..." He said panting, "The not so fun part."

Streaks of blood lead down the corridors of Westminster Palace as the House of Commons Chamber was emptied of bodies. There was not enough kids to do it all in one trip, so it would possibly take some time, especially as Jack had taken a group to do some scavenging, hoping to find guns, food, water, or anything useful. But the important thing was, the palace was safe. Or safer then it had been.

"This is disgusting..." one of the Westminster students muttered as he dragged the body of an old woman across the once clean floor.

"Meh, what are you gonna do?" Toby asked. While he'd never been particularly squeamish, but even he was having a hard time holding onto Mr. Cameron's body, "We can't just leave rotting bodies inside. They'll get disease, or more than they already do. You want that shit near your food? Near where you sleep? Breathing in that fresh Cholera smell every morning?" He paused, waiting for a response, "Didn't think so. We'll just burn these guys and be done with them, once and for all. Problem though is we'll need..."

"Hey! Who are you?" The kids dropped the bodies and pulled out their weapons, blunt objects and such, as the uniformed Cadets rushed forward to line up next to Toby, who pulled out his SIG Sauer Pistol. 2 Magazines left, he thought, swinging around to face a young boy who had caught them by surprise.

"Evening, mate." Toby said casually.

Jesse's sense of wonder and curious, admiring gazes on the walls of the former home of British parliament didn't last long without interruption. His ogling of the architectural feats left him distracted and out of touch with his surroundings, and this grave mistake suddenly left him face to face with a group of...well, teens, interestingly mixed between what looked to be average kids wielding their very own makeshift weaponry and a few uniformed ones, some also brandishing primitive bludgeoning tools while two, seemingly the ringleaders, aimed handguns towards him. All of a sudden the architectural qualities of the building around him mattered far less.

"Good evening." Jesse answered the one that spoke, glancing back at him over the barrel of the weapon he kept trained at Jesse. His tone didn't betray the uneasiness that crept into his bones faced with this armed group of possibly hostile boys and girls. His grip around the long bladed 'spear' in his hands tightened as he kept it pointed in the direction of his new possible foes, though it wouldn't do him a bit of good when he was taking fire from the handgun wielding lads. Not to mention, he was significantly outnumbered, and saw no viable avenue of escape should they decide to attack.

"I came here looking to get away from some trouble, yet...here you stand." he explained, deciding it wasn't best to recall to them that he'd actually gone toward the sound of gunfire. They'd think he was looking for a fight or just simply foolish. "Let's not do anything terribly rash."

[Grande Republic of Arcadia]

London, England

2 days earlier

James Munche
He went back up to the roof and he saw parts of the room he was working on collapsed. He was ready to give up on it. He want back down to the floor and they needed to move to another safe house, they grabbed their stuff and he got his m4 and put it on his back. They soon walked outside and out on the street. He put on his sunglasses and walked forward. They walked onto an overpass and nothing so far. For a majro city it was pretty empty, then again they were on the outskirts of london. They were going to move further in the city to find others. They were making their way to the MI6 building. They arrived at a subway entrance and veronica spoke "So want to go underground?" James replied "Sure beats going on the surface and gettin' killed." They soon started to walk into the subway and they walked on the tracks. the subways were empty for the most part but there was the occasional zombie which they killed with a hatchet. As they exited and they went to the surface and they saw the MI6 building across the river. They crossed the bridge and they ran a zombie came up to james and he cut its head open with a hatchet. As they made it into the building they ran up the stairs and they started to clear the floor.

Veronica Wright
It was now 12am and they had cleared the who floor, they started to barricade the stair way and now they had to deal with the bodies. They threw some bodies over the railing and she found a radio. She started calling for some help because they were now surrounded. James wanted to fire off some rounds at some infected American she thought. She soon fell asleep at the radio waiting for help to arrive.

[Russian people of america]

---

Isaac's search of Whitehall proved fruitless, just corpses and... upright corpses. He had yet to fire his weapon at any, he was trying to preserve ammo but perhaps he was preserving it a bit too well.

He froze up and strained his ears as an announcement was carried on the wind. Someone from the Tower. This meant people were alive, and thus it was Isaac's duty to see if they had everything they needed at the very least. He started jogging, he expected his arrival before nightfall. Honestly he was just glad he wasn't the only on alive anymore.

Somewhere in London, West London Gang

Peter was a great organizer, this fact had grown more prominent since he joined the group. After his initial run through the immediate area he returned, organizing two other patrols to go around and spread the message. For hours they rolled around London, blaring the same message over and over and over again. They noticed plenty of kids, brought out by the positive message, but only a few promised to visit the tower. Others either watched from a distance, or ran away from them. They did encounter one small gang and a fight had ensued. Peter was a big kid, and before long he'd left several savages dead, beaten to death by him and his fellow West London Gang members. Peter really was a revolutionary, he stayed out the longest and without his determination the other boy wouldn't have been noticed by the patrol.

Peter had been ever vigilant, looking out over the ruins for any sign of life. They couldn't have stayed out any longer than they did, they didn't have the fuel to stay out any longer. Rationing and all that, they weren't going to waste the resources they were fortunate enough to find. Just before he could give the order for the small patrol to head back Peter heard a rustling near one of the pieces of rubble. A boy emerged past a shattered pillar. "Halt! Your in the presence of a West London Gang patrol. State your business out here traveller" he actually smiled, feeling quite stupid for doing so. Not many people had gotten close enough for him to let out his alert, perhaps it was a prospective recruit, or maybe just a drifter. It never hurt to find out.

[Anowa]

---

Isaac's search of Whitehall proved fruitless, just corpses and... upright corpses. He had yet to fire his weapon at any, he was trying to preserve ammo but perhaps he was preserving it a bit too well.

He froze up and strained his ears as an announcement was carried on the wind. Someone from the Tower. This meant people were alive, and thus it was Isaac's duty to see if they had everything they needed at the very least. He started jogging, he expected his arrival before nightfall. Honestly he was just glad he wasn't the only on alive anymore.

Somewhere in London, West London Gang

Peter was a great organizer, this fact had grown more prominent since he joined the group. After his initial run through the immediate area he returned, organizing two other patrols to go around and spread the message. For hours they rolled around London, blaring the same message over and over and over again. They noticed plenty of kids, brought out by the positive message, but only a few promised to visit the tower. Others either watched from a distance, or ran away from them. They did encounter one small gang and a fight had ensued. Peter was a big kid, and before long he'd left several savages dead, beaten to death by him and his fellow West London Gang members. Peter really was a revolutionary, he stayed out the longest and without his determination the other boy wouldn't have been noticed by the patrol.

Peter had been ever vigilant, looking out over the ruins for any sign of life. They couldn't have stayed out any longer than they did, they didn't have the fuel to stay out any longer. Rationing and all that, they weren't going to waste the resources they were fortunate enough to find. Just before he could give the order for the small patrol to head back Peter heard a rustling near one of the pieces of rubble. A boy emerged past a shattered pillar. "Halt! Your in the presence of a West London Gang patrol. State your business out here traveller" he actually smiled, feeling quite stupid for doing so. Not many people had gotten close enough for him to let out his alert, perhaps it was a prospective recruit, or maybe just a drifter. It never hurt to find out.

Isaac had been jogging for quite some time, his goal was to find somewhere unlocked to stay in at this point. The sun was going down, and he'd seen what sort of shenanigans the Walkers got up to in the dark. With the odd angled shadows and the slight haze in the air, he didn't notice the rubble he was strutting through, so he pretty much kicked a brick across the street and paid little mind to it. What he paid most mind to was the sudden voice, male, 15-18 possibly armed, certainyl a fan of Ren-Faire. His L85 was up and pointed square at the kid's chest in a flash, the click of a safety going off came a moment later. This was instinct, and really came before Isaac realized what was said.

"Corporal Isaac MacDougall, Royal Marine Commandos. I don't suppose you're in the know of who that was on the loudspeaker earlier?" Despite the calm tone of voice, Isaac had yet to aim away from the younger teen's chest. A single step would be all it would take for a warning shot.

[Relikai]

Cadence Tallow

The Two Mages

Hillary was shocked. While she did not openly reject Cadence, her calculations on their provisions as well as the stress it might put upon Sakura was her main concern. There was some discussion in the kitchen while Cadence was made to wait in the living room, but she had little to worry about. Hillary was glad to have one more person with them, and if Cadence was trustworthy, she would definitely be invaluable to their pair. An additional eye during the night, an additional pair of hands to gather and repair, and an additional companion should things get heated up between Hillary and Sakura.

Passing Cadence a cup of hot tea, freshly brewed from the boxes of Lipton and Interchamp tea they looted from the local teahouse, Hillary smiled as Sakura joined them, stripping off her pants and coat as her oversized shirt did well to hide most of her features. She was one to prefer cold to being hot, and their heater was providing general warmth for the rest of the house.

"So, we might as well start off with some conversation!" Hillary said, her American accent present as she spoke in a language more comfortable than her Japanese.

"What's your name? I'm Hillary, and this is Sakura."

[Beiarusia]

Sakura & Hillary

Cadence Tallow
Somewhere in London

---

Cadence was led to a nearby flat by the strange girl who, upon arriving and locking the door, was quickly dragged off by another for a little discussion in the kitchen, leaving Cadence to wait alone in the front room. An awkward moment to be sure as hushed words were exchanged just beyond the thin wall. It wasn’t too late to leave, but the girl took a seat instead. Skateboard under her feet, Cadence glanced about the room with feigned curiosity, too numb inside from her earlier breakdown to think properly. The apartment was nice if not modest, having a patterned sofa as well as a telly, and some odd artwork on the walls, though the familiarity did little to sate the longing for her old home that was building in her gut. Absentmindedly she stroked Dakota’s head as he looped around her arm.

The two odd girls returned, the one passing Cadence a brewed cup of boxed tea. The other, the one that had found Cadence sobbing on the street, stripped down to something more comfortable – which was practically nothing – her display of loose modesty causing Cadence to turn away with a small blush. Truth be told the flat was very warm, but the guest saw no reason to remove her jacket for the time being.

The girl that had brought the tea introduced herself as Hillary, and her friend as Sakura, and then proceeded to ask Cadence for her own name. It was a simple question that typically had a simple answer, but the girl was caught staring into her cup of tea as she held it with both hands, her eyes catching her own reflection in the dark water. Her voice was tired when she spoke. “Cadence. I’m Cadence Tallow. Not that it matters.” A pause as the snake tightened. “And this is Dakota. Guess he’d have me last name if you wondered.”

Cadence lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip. The tea was hot but not too hot to burn. A little bitter for her liking, but seeing as how she was the guest in their home the girl didn’t have reason to complain.

She looked up then at the two Asian girls. Her voice was a bit stronger than before. “Why are you helping me? What do you want?”

Kindness always carried a price. Now so more than ever.