❅Fallout Detroit | A Heart of Rust | IC ❅

[Sapientia Et Bellum]

Jessie King
Mid-Day, New Years Day
Interstate 75, South of the junction with Highway 8, North of The Assembly

Jessie sighed as she looked down the expansive roadway that was once called Interstate 75. The Interstate had served as a primary route into the heart of Detroit as it traveled along The North End of Detroit towards the Wayne State University. Jessie had heard stories of a large and mechanically gifted settlement that called itself The Assembly that was situated along the interstate. She believed that the settlement might be a place of refuge for the night and may also be a source of income considering her specific skills. Jessie would set fourth along the interstate earlier that morning with this idea ingrained within her mind.

Jessie threw her pack down onto the ground along the barrier wall of the interstate and would sit down next to it with a heavy sigh. She unzipped the front pocket of her pack and pulled out a small container of canned chicken. The lid would peel off with ease to reveal almost perfectly preserved chicken that was canned before her birth. She saw this as a marvel of the age that once existed. She took out her combat knife and used it to spear the small chunks of chicken and transfer them to her mouth. The chicken tasted incredibly bland but it would give her the calories needed to continue her trip down the interstate. She would finish the chicken and sip up the small bits of clean water that had been sealed within the can before throwing the can onto the ground next to her. Jessie took her combat knife and wiped it off against her stitched together pants. She returned the knife to its original home and used the barrier to lift herself back onto her feet. She grabbed her pack and threw across her back before once again looking off down the road. She could make out the group of buildings in the distance as The Assembly and slightly smiled before continuing her trek down Interstate 75.

Later that night

Jessie would leave Interstate 75 and begin to walk east towards the ruins that made up The Assembly. She observed the gates to the trading settlement and with caution began to advance towards the gate. She would be greeted by several guards who promptly began to question her. She slung her pack onto the ground and played along with the games of the guards.

"Name?"
"Jessie King"
"Reason for entry?"
"Im looking for work and quarters."
"Coming from?"
"North of Detroit"
The guard would nod at her "Carry on..."

Jessie picked up her pack and proceeded into the settlement of some 250 individuals and various traders/travelers. She moved towards a building marked as an Inn hoping for a place to rest. She would be welcomed by a strange cast of various traders and citizens of the settlement as she moved towards the front counter of the establishment. The counter would be manufactured out of twisted pieces of metal and wood. The gentleman behind it was well aged and likely a survivor of the great war from before. Jessie would place 10 bottle caps onto the counter and ask for a room in which the gentleman would hand her a key with the number five roughly etched on the side of it. Jessie moved away from the counter and towards a stairway that led to the upper level of the inn which is where the various rooms would be located. She inserted the key into the door that was labeled as number five and it opened in a very rough manner. The room was small and contained nothing but a crude bed and dresser but it offered a level of security for the night. She threw her pack next to the dresser before locking the door behind her. Jessie sat on the bed promptly without undressing and would be asleep in almost an instant.

[New Sriker]

Leon p. Jones
Noon,New Years Day
Riverfront Commune

Leon stands in the center of the settlement waving around a red flag and yelling at all young men and women walking by “Join the militia fight to free the oppressed peoples under the control of the fascist Frost!” After two hours of yelling at people like a madman Leon heads to the local bar to grab a drink. When he enters he notices a young militiaman sitting at his us usual seat, Leon walked up to the young man and said “Hey kid you’re at my seat would you mind getting up.” The soldier looks at him with a anxious look on his face.

The young man looks at Leon and yells “Commissar Russel wishs to see you comrade Leon.” Leon looks around and says “ The Commissar wants to meet me, are you sure you have the right Leon kid.” The soldier nods “there is a car waiting for you comrade it will take you to go see the Commissar.”

A few hours later Leon hops into the car and is on his way to meet the Commissar. “Why would he want me,did i do something wrong am i being fired oh god will i be fired for that fight the Posadist ghoul, no that happened forever ago” Thought Leon while he was worried for the reason he was summoned but then out of nowhere a car rammed into his car.

Leon woke up to see the to men who were escorting him to the Commissar, were shot dead by Raiders. “Oh the boss is going be happy we could us these guns on the next time we do this.” said one of the six raiders. Leon before even knowing if it was safe ran towards the north and he lost the raiders at Ammex Global Marketplace. Leon looked around the abandoned store he found what looked like a safe place and layed down for the night hoping to be found by the Red Vanguard.

[The Twelve Isles]

James Henry Barrow
Red, The Pale Rider
Detroit Union Airbase

Jimmy grinned and tipped his hat to the sergeant at the offer to come on in, taking Apple Jacks horse and leading her behind him. "Thank you sir,"he said simply. He took her to the little tent offered to him, and slid his shotgun back into the holster on her saddle. He unbuckled his pistol holster as well, pulling the belt off his waist and throwing it over his horses back. He kept her saddled however, in case the job didn't work out. If so, he wouldn't have to waste time putting everything back on and could just climb up and ride off easily. But, he had high hopes. He was good, and he knew if it came to a demonstration of his skill or in talking he had a good chance in convincing someone. After all, he could shoot a dime at 100 yards and whittle down a price from an arab trader.

Turning to see Cpl Fournier, he grinned again and shook Fourniers hand, firm but not hard. "Good to meet you Fournier," he said, following after the man. He felt a little odd without his guns, he had spent the last 15 or so years with them almost constantly on him. He almost felt naked. But, he couldnt exactly complain about it either. This was a military base after all, they would have procedures and codes about such things. He had learned that in Texas, fighting in the San Antoioan Army.

[Vacif]

Kasper Griffin
New Years Eve
Monroe

---

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!"

The roof exploded into cheers of joy and celebration as the counter on the roof chimed, ushering in the new year. Salvaged pre-war fireworks shot out into the sky, illuminating the landscape with a mesmerizing display of pyrotechnics. In that moment the world around them didn't feel so dreary as they marked another year of survival. While the past was behind them, they would not forget those that they left behind in the years past. The world was cruel, dangerous, callous. Every second, day, and year was a victory in its own right. But a year was a milestone for celebration, at least to them. They didn't have any champagne, but they had wine, scotch, whiskey, and just about every else. The settlers sang songs, people danced.

Kasper leaned on the safety railing, watching a display red, white, and blue fireworks detonating the sky. A reminder of what they were here for. Below the skies where they'd placed their hopes was their stark reality. "Still brooding I see?" It was Celia, sideways grin as usual, walking over with two tumblers in hand. She stopped beside Kasper, mimicking his stance against the safety barrier. "Lighten up, we made it another year, it'll be just like last year." She offered the glass in her left.

Kasper gave a light chuckle, and accepted the drink. It was scotch, he didn't usually drink, but it was the start of a new year. "That. Is exactly what I'm worried about. This war resumes in six. That's not a lot of time. Soon it will be back to same old. One forward two ba-"

"Hey, ease up yeah?" She said, raising an eye brow. "New year, live in the present. And in the present we don't have to worry about the Reds down the street. Let the army deal with them. That's not our job. We'll make it."

"....." Kasper wasn't sure what to respond with. He drummed his fingers against the railing and looked back at the sky. "To the present?"

"That's the spirit. To the present."

---

Kasper Griffin
New Years Mid-Day
Monroe

---

Kasper groggily woke up and yawned as he stretched in his seat. Half the building was probably still asleep. In fact out of over a dozen people, he was the only one awake in the rec room. Celia wasn't among them. The celebration had gone pretty late into the night... or morning depending on who you asked. It was kind of hazy. Kasper got up an approached the refreshments able, and gingerly opened the lid on the glass pitcher. He gave it a tentative sniff to confirm it was indeed water and not gin before pouring himself a cup. His mouth felt like a dry sewer. "How was the beauty sleep Dopey?"

It was Castillo. Kasper sipped his water and flipped off the Warrant Officer who chuckled heartily. "Did you actually want something Castillo or did you just so happen to arrive when I woke up?"

"Someone's in a good mood." He remarked dryly. "A little bit of column A, and a little bit of column B. Despite Fontaine's promise to stay sober he got black out drunk. We... still haven't been able to wake him up."

"You should probably call him a doctor." Kasper remarked boredly. "What does that have to do with me? You want me to babysit him?"

"Fuck no, I wouldn't trust you with the care of a feral. First of the year."

Kasper took a large, if exaggerated breath through his teeth. "Ahhh fuck me....." He groaned. It was time to do check ups on the water systems across their sector. Usually they had an entire team to do this but this year their staff had kind of been cut short. "Augh. Okay outside of our own building, how many do I have to do?"

"All of them." Smirked Casillo.

He almost choked on his water. "All of them?! Alone?!"

"Alone. Well, you'll have security. All other engineers are either already in the field, or are in a short coma like Fontaine. C'mon, get your shit we're moving out in fifteen."

"What, no time for lunch?"

The Warrant Officer looked at Kasper, then at the cup in his hand. "You've had plenty. Tick tock Dopey."

"Fuck you Castillo." and with that the Warrant Officer walked off into the hallway. Kasper finished his water and rubbed the crust out of his eyes and began a rather hasty start to his already late day.

[The Empire of Tau]

General Commissary of Provisions John S. Browning
Mid-day, New Years' Day
Michigan Central Train Depot Rooftop, West Side Industrial

Entering onto the rooftop via the main entrance, John walks with a fast-pace - ignoring most. “Good morning to you all.” John takes a seat for himself. He lays down a pile of papers in-front. “I have, as of my past days, been planning and trying to gain a census on our material. Not only that, I been also been hard at work with the storage, distribution, maintenance, repair, salvage, and disposal, of our supply-side chain of acquisition of material for future wars. Well, that’s only part of my first write-up. I only done the supply component. There’s still the issue of transportation and after that, facilities. Lastly would be services...among other things...So, what shall we be talking about today?”

John stares at every person on the rooftop. “Well, I know that we’re here to talk about the future plans for FROST and speaking of FROST.” John looks within his stack of papers, pulling out a few sheets. “This is the report that I made a week ago about FROST’s current capacity to sustain itself over long-distance staged resupply and estimated consumption. Production outputs, and such. Do note that this is mostly from observations from myself when I was in FROST a few years back. I don’t think a lot has changed in terms of a logistical standpoint….Anyhow, let’s hear what you people have to say.” John quietly waits.

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Staff Sergeant Mitchell Graham
Afternoon, 8 p.m. New Years Day
Taylor, Beaumont Hospital, Taylor Street

Mitchell felt as if he was a ghost. He certainly looked pale enough to be one. As he stood up and looked at the carnage around him only now that he realized how big the battle truly was. The bodies of ghouls laid everywhere. Their mouths still open and wounds still bleeding slimy ooze. His knees felt shaky and loose. His forehead was completely drenched in sweat, some dripped into his eyes making everything blurry at times. After shaking hands and thanking Sergeant Scott, Mitchell made sure no one was near or looking and allowed his knees to at last collapse. He collapsed onto a crate and began to shake as if everything was freezing. He then felt tinges to panic claw at his heart. What just happened? God, so close to death. Was he really so close to dying here? Forgotten by so many? And what of the wounded and fallen that had died because of him? Mitchell had men die under his command before. Be it a booby trap or a hidden raider sniper. But he had only ever seen the aftermath. He never had to see them die in front of him... and in such a disgusting way. What was he to tell their mothers? His right hand clawed at his face as he felt horror truly engulf him. Unlike the other deaths, these ones were solely his fault. He had insisted on checking the tunnels. He should have cleared the building first then the tunnels. But, no, he had insisted on doing the two at the same time. Cover more ground he told himself. He now began to breathe rapidly.

Mitchell heard a small clink behind him, knocking him out of his secret despair. His head snapped around looking for the source of the noise. The noise had come behind a small red cargo crate. Mitchell drew his pistol and readied himself. He began to walk forward, making sure to make as little sound as possible. Then there was the sound of steps behind the crate coming closer. Mitchell felt his hand grip the pistol ever harder. His eyes squinted and his teeth bared. Instead of hearing a loud roar he just heard a voice. A very familiar voice. Mitchell sighed and put down his gun, it was the private that he sent up to the surface to get a message through. What was her name? Mitchell remembered it was Quinn.

"Sir?" Quinn asked in a silent and calming noise. "Are you okay? You sounded very, very, very."

Mitchell held up his hand, stopping the private from finishing her sentence. He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible but some of his panics leaked through. "Sorry, I was just wrapped up in thought. Thank you, thank you private. If not for you we all would have died."

She blushed a bit. Mitchell sympathized. After all, he had done the same when the commissar promoted him when he was only eighteen. He smiled for a moment, remembering his past. He had been promoted from Private to Private first class. It had been the proudest moment of his childhood. It was not much but he had proven himself to him. She replied, "Thanks, sir, glad to do my duty."

Mitchell did his usual and signiture grin. "Well, let's not keep sergeant Scott waiting."

[Endem]

First Sergeant Scott
Afternoon, 8 p.m. New Years Day
Taylor, Beaumont Hospital, Taylor Street

Scott decided to not follow Mitchell were ever he was heading, he possibly needed to take a breather. Scott understood that losing a soldier was always though for the one that commanded him into the battle. He approached Mitchell and said.

"You put up a good fight, I'm sorry we were not able to react faster, the death of that soldier could have been prevented if we managed to arrive faster, my soldiers will bury him near"

He gestured towards the body being carried by one of the soldiers. Scott then said one thing more

"you're probably tired, and it's already 8 p.m, my troops set up two camps one at Taylor Recycling and the second one in a neighborhood near, I'll lead you there if you want to stay there for a night"

He then made a quick look towards his 9 soldiers ( the tenth one is carrying the body ) and the pile of Ghoul bodies ready to be burned and then he said one more thing to Mitchell

"I suggest we get out of this tunnel, my soldiers will set this pile of bodies on fire and follow us once we exit the tunnel"

He then started to walk towards the entrance just as the tenth soldier returned, Scott grabbed him by his arm and asked

"Where did you leave the body"

"Just outside of the entrance, I thought one more Molotov could be useful"

Scott's face turned red with anger, but he spoke calmly

"Go back and keep watch over that body, if anything happens to it, you'll be the one responsible, understood"

"Yes sir"

The soldier went back up and exited the tunnel, presumably to guard the poor man's body from Mitchell's squad

[Zaporizhian Host]

Lieutenant Lynda Pierce
Noon, New Years' Day
Militia Barracks, Covenant

Florence had left the watchtower for duties elsewhere, but Lynda remained, turning down the volume of the radio. She opened up her combat jacket and took out her diary and pen, browsing through her old memories and reflections. It was rare for her to write as she was running out of pages, and she'd been on the lookout for a new journal for some time. As she browsed the worn leather diary in pink given to her on her 8th birthday by her parents, she happened upon a page with a neat drawing. The drawing illustrated Squeaky, the family's old cat, that passed away shortly before the war began. The pointy pencil outline awoke her younger self, one that wished she had a color pen to fill in the sketch with Squeaky's light brown color. She closed her eyes and remembered the times when she used to play with the rotund feline and the feeling of running her hand through the soft back fur. Lynda considered the cat lucky. She'd seen many formerly domesticated cats degraded to the same brutality projected by wasteland humans.

It was easy to trace the passing of time with her diary. The first dozens of pages, many of which were from before the war, had big and sometimes indistinguishable letters. She had always suspected her parents may have given her diary not to improve her ability to reflect and record, but rather to improve her handwriting. As the years passed, her handwriting had become clear and small, taking up the entire page in order to save space. The time passed between diary entries had become greater, and these last years, she wrote a small entry every week or so at most. She was about to add one small note for this New Years' Day, Russell's speech and the Cain sightings, but was interrupted by a militiaman's shout from the bottom of the tower.

"Lieutenant Pierce! You're needed downstairs."

Lynda sighed, carefully returning the diary to its safe home in a pocket she'd sown herself on the inside of the jacket. She climbed down and found the shouter waiting for her, scratching his head.

"How can I help comrade?" She smiled, changing her tone to a more sober one as she asked, "Anything serious?"

"Well... there's a robot... of sorts... two actually, wishing to speak to you. One is transmitting a man's face and this man seems keen on speaking to you, M'am. Something related to trade." The messenger seemed nearly as confused as the message's receiver. Robots? Could it be a F.R.O.S.T. spy of sorts? It was certainly something out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, she was the officer on duty. And, she was a curious officer, indeed.

"We'll see what the robots, or the man speaking through the robots, has to say then. Come with me." Recognizing it as a potential carrier of weapons, she wouldn't want to face the robots alone. Joined by the other guard standing by the entrance to the barracks, Lynda looked down on the two robots standing in front of her. Supported by one hefty wheel, broad-shouldered and carrying dangling arms with grappling hands, the robots seemed much more advanced than she had anticipated. The one closest to the stairs of the building was the one showing the man's face. The man was aged, and not well-aged, with a thin face and hair a good way into the process of graying. Lynda crossed her arms and looked into the eyes of the man displayed on the screen, leaving her sunglasses on.

"First and foremost, if I see as much as a twitch by those arms or anything similar to a weapon while you're in PLFA-protected Covenant..." she pointed her hand at the robots, "there'll be nothing more than shreds of metal left of these robots. Got it?" She didn't care to wait for a reaction.

"I'm Militia Lieutenant Lynda Pierce of the People's Liberation Front of America. I understand you have a proposition, and thanks to my good mood today, I'll hear you out for a minute. But don't think I'm not concerned about two robots rolling into Covenant all a sudden Now, state your name and whatever you're interested in from us."

[Saldinado]

Character Name: Olivia Jansen
Date: 2099, New Years Day, Late Afternoon
Location: Oakbrook Dog Park, outside of Union Airbase

A place known for its lush green land. Its trees gently swaying against one another as their leaves greatly danced to the movement of the light summer breeze. The sounds of birds gleefully chirping, people having casual conversation with one another, and faint barks and whimpers of all kinds of dogs filled the sky to clash and attempt to dominate the brash and sudden noise of airplanes passing above the park.
This was a kind of safe haven. An oasis from the daily life of work and stress for both man and his best friend. To just relax during the weekend with family or maybe spend the afternoon with his four-legged companion.
But not, it was just an empty hollow of its past self. It was mid winter and the trees were no more than oversized snow-covered twigs, barren and waiting for life to come back and welcome its branches. The occasional chirp of whatever remaining bird was the only one to survive the battle of control of the sky. The people and dogs of the past were no more with the only evidence of their presence being either the occasional skeleton of either a human or dog, or the outline of their bodies permanently stained on the benches. The sounds of planes that once took over the neighborhood was now only a distant memory for most.

Yet despite the rather grim reminder of the past, a few people of the present decided to take advantage of it.
Sitting on one of the last remaining benches was a quiet woman. Bundled up in a faded red coat to shield herself from the cold that surrounded her. It wasn't too bad to where it was uncomfortable to stand outside, yet cold enough to alert its presence to someone. She sat silently with a bottle of what seemed to be red wine in her hands. "It's a bit chilly outside today." She spoken to herself before bringing the bottle up to her mouth to drink from it. There was a form of elegance and grace with the way that she drunk it. She wasn't in a rush to finish; almost as if she wanted to savor the taste. And who would blame her. This wine has been well preserved for over 100 years well before she herself was even born.
Looking towards the airport in the distance, she pondered their presence. She knew that she lived only a few miles from the Union Airbase, yet never knew who they really were. Or why they haven't made the discovery of her neighborhood. But perhaps that's understandable since there's only a very select few left besides her in the neighborhood. And from what she heard, maybe it was a good thing that the F.R.O.S.T officials didn't make their way over here. However she knew that within the next week or so she would have to venture out further from her bunker in order to search for more resources. But besides that, she has been thinking to herself about a plan.

Olivia sighed softly and placed the bottle of wine down beside her before reaching into her coat and pulled out a small notebook. She then reached behind her ear and pulled out a pen and began to write something down in her journal.

Happy New Years!

I've made it another year without dying, becoming seriously ill or crippled, enslaved, or a feral ghoul.
It's amazing that someone like me has made it this far along without much happening...In a sense. But hey, let's not get all mopey, it's a new year! However, lately I have been wondering about what is going on at the Airbase; over the past few months they have been more and more productive as if they're preparing for something. It makes me a little anxious without the idea of knowing what they're up to. There has also been some speculation that the People's Liberation might be planing something. I'll have to get more information from sources later on, but for now I'm just going to stand by and watch what happens. If it's what I think it is, then dread the day it would come. And hopefully I don't get caught up in the fiasco.

But speaking of which, I've been thinking this for the past few weeks. From what I've seen, there are only less than maybe ten people in what remains of Hale Creek. This place has potential to become a safehaven from the harsh lands of Detroit. We have fertile lands for farming, a creek nearby that's not as irradiated as most of the surrounding areas. And enough shelter and former houses for hundreds of people. I'm surprised that nobody, especially F.R.O.S.T. hasn't taken over this area for themselves. But I think I can change it. I don't really know exactly what I'm doing, but I can learn along the way. I just hope that I can do it before F.R.O.S.T or anyone else for that matter comes through and tries to claim it for themselves. But first, I think that I need to find a few alliances and earn a few connections. This place is pretty big and a lot for a One-Woman task. I'll start with the nearby

But that's enough rambling for tonight. I can start tomorrow morning by surveying the land and mapping it. And also see what goes on at the Airbase. Maybe even ask for permission to travel through the Station to travel through the area. Maybe head over to Westwood first. Don't know how long it would take, but I should start preparing for at least a week.

But that's it for tonight. There's a lot to do tomorrow so I should try to get some rest. But first, I'll enjoy this merlot.
So goodnight, happy New Years and I'll continue this conversation tomorrow.

Olivia

Softly sighing to herself, Olivia closed her notebook and slid it back inside of her coat and removed her hair from her face.
She then picked up her red wine again and began to drink from it again. "Happy New Year Detroit."

[Mushroomio]

Thomas Polani
Noon, New Years’ Day
Covenant

Thomas was now face-to-face with what he assumed to be the commanding officer of Covenant, a woman looking to be on the smaller side of the spectrum. She was flanked by PLFA guards, and made herself clear that he was not fooling around when it came to her community’s safety. Thomas slightly nodded at her words, but recoiled slightly when she threatened his boys. He didn't think she noticed, hopefully, and she kept on talking. When she was done, she appeared to be willing to listen to his offer. Her sunglasses staying on when she talked made Thomas feel as if she was hiding something. Fear? Nonsense. He opened his mouth to respond to her.

“Lt. Pierce, ma’am, I mean you no harm, I truly do. I am terribly sorry if Grant and Harding’s bodies look intimidating, but I can assure you that they are harmless unless they see a definite threat.” Thomas fidgeted slightly in his seat, the weight of what he was going to say seeming to get to him. “I feel as if my proposition to your great community would be mutually beneficial, if only you heard what I had to say.”

Thomas took in a deep breath, and let out a haggardly cough, one that shook him to his core. His condition seemed to be worsening, but how? He was in his lead-lined bunker, where he had been for years. The air was clean, probably. Not irradiated at least, and the food and water are also clean. He decided it was age, most likely, and continued speaking.

“My trade proposition would be as follows: Your wonderful community graciously donates some scrap metal, electronics, or anything of the sort, while I can provide you some… protection. The PDQ-88b model Securitron that my sons are, contrary to what I said earlier, not one to be trifled with. Resistant to small-arms fire, having a gatling laser on one arm, and a 9mm machine gun on the other, these models are very powerful. I see that Covenant is close to the bombed out, irradiated wastes that is only one and a half blocks down. The ghouls there must bother you day in and out, I imagine. My boys will be a great boon to your efforts in protecting the community.”

This pained him to say it out loud. His sons were his pride and joy! And he just offered to put them on the frontlines. They could get hurt, or worse. Thomas shuddered slightly when he made the protection offer, and felt a pang of guilt in his soul with every word that escaped from his mouth. But what’s done is done. He had made the offer, and all he had to do was listen to what she had to say.

[Labstoska]

Charlie Caro
Mid-day, new years day
Beneath Michigan avenue
Charlie had managed to sneak away from his escort at Westborn, it was in fact embarrassingly easy to do. The moment he and the rest of them had gotten off the carriage the patrol had begun to engage in a lengthy debate with the garrison at Westborn about conspiracy theories and superstitions concerning the tunnels, it had perhaps proved to Charlie that tunnels did in fact weaken the mind, fear was nothing but a product of consistent monotony and the tunnel patrolmen had monotony in spades. Yet despite this when Charlie entered the Greenfield tunnel a cold tinge of fear crawled up his spine. Unlike the tunnel before he was now utterly enveloped in a horrific miasma of utter darkness only illuminated by a narrow funnel of light coming from his flashlight. Charlie quickly grew jumpy at the slightest sound he would quickly turn round to face it yet for every time the light fell upon that spot there was nothing but the creations of his mind, something in the corner of the eye? Simply a figment of the imagination, footsteps from behind? Nothing but the mind's bored state, the ever so faint scampering of a rat...

Charlie had heard many tales of rad rats, they may not have been the biggest abominations in the waste nor the most vicious however they were certainly a contender of the most dangerous. They had a tendency to attack in swarms and overtake even the most well armed squads and leave nothing but their bones behind. The only way to actually stop them was to use a flame thrower and scorch the bastards to death. If he had happened to come across a hoard of them of them then he was most likely dead he would have no way to outrun them, no way to kill them, no way to escape the tide of scurrying death.

Eventually his flashlight fell upon the Greenfield station, he checked his map once more and started to look for the tunnel down to Lincoln Park Station. To Charlie oddly enough it was the stations that were the most unnerving, they were too preserved. Whereas on the surface Detroit had been utterly destroyed the stations appeared like a corpse of the old world, he could almost feel what once was moving through this place... JUST A PRODUCT OF THE MIND. There... There it was the tunnel to Lincoln Park, it was far less well kept than those that had been cleared out by the F.R.O.S.T he could see that there was a corpse of a train right in the entrance to the train, Charlie could smell something foul coming from it.

Charlie Caro
???????
?????????
He'd been trudging in for what seemed like weeks now, he no longer felt his legs, he occasionally tripped on the rails yet only once had he managed to cut himself. Even darkness grew dull as his monotonous march onwards continued. He was no longer even sure where he was, he knew that he was past Lincoln park and was now on the C line yet more than then that he was entirely lost. By God he better be able to cause some serious damage to make all this worth it. Charlie heard a scampering behind him but this time multiplied, his suspicions had been aroused. Charlie turned his flashlight behind him and four small creature scurried out of the way. Shit rad rats, how long had they been behind him? How many were there, there was only one way to be safe, Charlie started running, the scurrying sound grew lounder and louder Charlie knew what was amassing behind him. Charlie broke into an all out sprint, he would not die some damn overgrown rodents.

In front of him he began to make out the faint outline of tunnel leading into a station, his salvation lay ahead yet he could already feel the rats biting at his heels, he pulled out his plasma pistol it most likely wouldn't work but it wouldn't hurt to try. He fired directly behind him and a great cry of pain emerged from the rat horde, their eyes had grown feeble in their time in the tunnels and the bright glare of the plasma shot had most likely caused a great deal of pain to them, not enough to cause serious damage but enough to get them to slow. He managed to reach the station and hauled himself up on the platform, beneath him a sea of black fur writhed in anger. He sprinted up the stairs to the surface and upon reaching it he inhaled a delicious breath of fresh air and embraced the glory of the sun, the snow felt wonderous on his skin.

After he had finished firmly reintroducing himself with the surface he noticed a makeshift wooden sign, it proudly proclaimed welcome to Springwell village shit he was in Cain's land

[Alouite]

Corporal James Fournier
Mid-day
New Years' Day

Corporal Fournier shakes the man's hand and replies "And you, Mister Barrow." As they begin walking Fournier explains "Lieutenant Daniels has been pretty busy lately, but with the ceasefire he finally is going to get some rest. Sergeant Linton may be right, we may not have work due to the ceasefire." He pauses, "This is the building now, it has a pretty decent view of the area." The two continue to walk into the entrance of the air control tower. The room's lighting clicks on upon detecting people entering the room and Corporal Fournier presses the button.

The two men enter and Fournier continues as the elevator ascends. "Then again, we pretty much always have some odd jobs to do, and if you could save us the patrolman or act as an auxiliary to one of our units, well.. He may just be up for it." The elevator door opens and the men get out to see the well-organized office-style room that had been built in the air-control tower. Lieutenant Daniels walks over to the men receiving and returning a salute to the Corporal and then turning to the prospect.

The Lieutenant extends his arm for a handshake and says "My name is Lieutenant Charles Daniels, I am the head of Logistics and Supply Chains here. I understand that you are here for employment and I do not intend to disappoint you. However, I would like to ask what kind of work in particular you are looking for. We have hired auxiliaries in the past, and in fact have a few on leave currently. They are involved in everything from settlement security services to supply chain management, special procurement and, perhaps what you are looking for, special services. But please, tell me a bit about you, I want to get a gauge for what you're looking to do and what you have to offer."

---

Commissar Jack Russel
Mid-day, New Years' Day
Michigan Central Train Depot Rooftop, West Side Industrial

Jack Russel took a swig from his cigarette and smiled at the news, at least they would be able to make some projections and infer how to approached based upon those now. He said "Good work comrade Browning, I am sure that it will be instrumental to our future approach." He pauses and thinks for a moment before an idea quickly springs to mind. He takes another puff from his cigarette.

He looks to another representative of the Red Vanguard and then to Browning and says "I only ask this as a formality, but the Red Vanguard militia is renowned for its incendiary approach." He takes another puff. "Now, clearly, it would be too soon for us to make any moves given that the ceasefire has only just come into effect. However, based on your understanding would it perhaps be feasible to begin disrupting their production. As you well know, much of their supply chain is pretty secure, either running the long way around the impact zone, over us in vertibirds or under us in well armed caravans through the metro system. But if we were to isolate and target their munitions production centers and, bluntly, blow them up and burn them down, would that be a realistic way to begin finally waging an effective war of attrition against them?" He takes a final puff from the cigarette and puts it out.

---

Secretary to the Commissar, Evan Pulaski
Mid-day, New Years' Day
The Capital Building, Bagley & 21st Street

Secretary Pulaski had spent his morning so far relieved and yet incredibly bored. There had been little in the way of work to do, as everyone was out celebrating the Ceasefire and the New Year. Yet, somehow, he had ended up assigned to sitting in and managing the administrative body of the Liberation Front while Jack Russel and his fellow comrades held their rally. It was understandable, without making public rallies in moments like these, the fire of the revolution might grow dim. Thus he worked diligently on what tasks he could, but could not help but be somewhat disinterested in small administrative requests and tasking his staff with filing documents and looking over reports. He had resolved to get all of his work for the day done by noon, and so him and his staff were nearing completion of their day's work. Secretary Pulaski sighed as he opened yet another manila folder which he had to look over for the purpose of approving various equipment and provision dispensation forms. He put on his reading glasses and began to go over the various forms, skimming them to save time.

Two bushels of wheat to Posadasville, approved.

Fifty three cartons of brahmin milk to the Covenant, approved.

Twenty eight bottles of whiskey to Group Firestone (a smaller militia in the PLFA), approved, however notified that they have met their monthly capacity.

Four-thousand eight hundred and fifty rounds of .556 ammunition and thirty hand grenades to the Warrens, begrudgingly approved. He never did like sending munitions to the anarchists as he did not trust their lack of organization to properly stock and manage any provisions sent.

Fourty tw- "Mr. Secretary, we have a message from Lieutenant Pierce from the covenant. A watchman relayed it to me." a staff member said placing a note on his desk before leaving. The Secretary put a tab on the form he was on and closed the manila folder. He half-smiled, one one hand he was almost done for the day, but on the other perhaps he wouldn't conclude his day without having anything eventful pass him by.

He adjusted his glasses and then unfolded the note. To his surprise there were three bullet points. Surely the messenger or the staffer had shortened it for his convenience, he read:

*Unusually large fire in Kingdom of Cain

*Troop movements in Springwells, possibly a hundred

*Permission to organize a reconnaissance mission requested

He thought it over for a moment, the militias were semi-autonomous, so beyond actually engaging him waiving permission to scout was a mostly symbolic act. Thus he transcribed the note onto an action report form and then readied his typewriter. He typed:

Good Afternoon Lieutenant Pierce,

The Office of the Secretary to the Commissar hereby does note the unusual activity within the Kingdom of Cain and shifting troop movements. Actions will be taken to prepare for any potential threats that would stem from an incursion into Liberation Front held areas of the city. Permission to organize a reconnaissance mission is hereby accepted and your respective militia is permitted to take defensive action in any encounters with the Kingdom of Cain. Offensive measures are only authorized as a counter-offensive measure in anticipation of the outbreak of hostilities. Furthermore, upon request, and within reason, weapons and other equipment for use in the aforementioned reconnaissance mission will be made available. If you have any further questions or requests, do not hesitate to send a follow up message.

Signed,

Evan D. Pulaski, Secretary to the Commissar and Chairman to the Directorate of Internal Affairs

[Zaporizhian Host]

Lieutenant Lynda Pierce
Noon, New Years' Day
Militia Barracks, Covenant

Her eyes carefully followed every move made by the man from behind the shades. The robots seemed firmly fixed to their positions near each other, their arms hanging down. As the man displayed on the screen coughed, breaking into a moment of silence before continuing his talk, she relaxed, losing some of her concerns about the danger the man might pose. She would have had to admit that he was a smooth talker if asked by somebody else because his tone exuded a sense of sophistication. As he described the weaponry of so-called "securitrons", she did not reflect any of the toughness she had put on against as much as a showing of armament capability the other minute. Instead, she seemed somewhat convinced that this offer was something she, and the PLFA, could make use of. When he referred to the robots as his "boys" with a high degree of affection, she raised her eyebrows, but when reflecting upon it later that day, Lynda realized she'd encountered more kooky survivors than this strange man. As he finished outlining his offer, the man seemed caught in a sudden deep though, but rebounded and awaited her response. They were, however, interrupted.

"Message for you, Lt. Pierce." The same watchtowerman she'd sent away earlier, comrade Evans, had now returned, after the hour or so that had gone since she sent him away to the West Side Industrial area. Waving the report paper to her, he also took notice of the robots.

"If you give me just a second." She held up a finger as to put the man on hold, and received the paper from Evans. "Thank you comrade, take a short break before you get back to work." Her subordinate smiled appreciatively, while Lynda read the message quickly, nodding approvingly as she understood that she had permission to send out a reconnaissance patrol. An idea struck her just then, and she eyed the two robots quickly, catching the eyes of the man patiently awaiting her return to their conversation, if that was what you could call it.

"See, your offer may be helpful to me, and we might be able to work something out. Now you've seen some of Covenant I guess, and we're quite a fortified settlement with a well-armed and permanent militia force. Sure, as you point out, we got a few square miles of ruins teeming with ghouls. They rarely stray off though, we haven't had a major threat for, well, I can't remember last time we fought a major battle anywhere close to Covenant. So, the protection by a pair of outsider robots, whatever weapons they have in store, is not really something I'm gonna trade anything for. We really don't need it. I do however have another task I'd offer your robots to undertake, in return for whatever scrap metal and electronics I might find that can match the task."

"The Kingdom of Cain. You are most likely aware of them, if not, they're the feudal slaver-fascists just across the other side of those ruins..." She pointed towards the West, "and we've detected troop movements in Springwells, the closest settlement from here under the control of Cain. I need it checked out, and I'd rather not risk any of my fellow militia troops unless I have to, so I say you make your robots observe the grounds, North of Springwells and close to the old Ford plant controlled by the Kingdom. I want whatever information you can compile, and if it's helpful to me, I'll reward you with a fitting amount of hardware and technology. What do you say?"

She didn't know if offering this small trade deal was beyond her authority as the commanding officer around, but she thought that she made it with a good reason. While she doubted the stealth ability of the robots, she did think they seemed sturdy enough to handle themselves and observe from a distance.

[The Twelve Isles]

Corporal James Fournier
Mid-day
New Years' Day

Corporal Fournier shakes the man's hand and replies "And you, Mister Barrow." As they begin walking Fournier explains "Lieutenant Daniels has been pretty busy lately, but with the ceasefire he finally is going to get some rest. Sergeant Linton may be right, we may not have work due to the ceasefire." He pauses, "This is the building now, it has a pretty decent view of the area." The two continue to walk into the entrance of the air control tower. The room's lighting clicks on upon detecting people entering the room and Corporal Fournier presses the button.

The two men enter and Fournier continues as the elevator ascends. "Then again, we pretty much always have some odd jobs to do, and if you could save us the patrolman or act as an auxiliary to one of our units, well.. He may just be up for it." The elevator door opens and the men get out to see the well-organized office-style room that had been built in the air-control tower. Lieutenant Daniels walks over to the men receiving and returning a salute to the Corporal and then turning to the prospect.

The Lieutenant extends his arm for a handshake and says "My name is Lieutenant Charles Daniels, I am the head of Logistics and Supply Chains here. I understand that you are here for employment and I do not intend to disappoint you. However, I would like to ask what kind of work in particular you are looking for. We have hired auxiliaries in the past, and in fact have a few on leave currently. They are involved in everything from settlement security services to supply chain management, special procurement and, perhaps what you are looking for, special services. But please, tell me a bit about you, I want to get a gauge for what you're looking to do and what you have to offer."

James Henry Barrow
Red, The Pale Rider
Mid Day, New Years Day
Union Airbase

"Its good to meet you Lieuteneant Daniels," said Jimmy, flashing him the same grin he had given to Sgt Linton. He shook the Lieutenant's hand, giving him a firm grasp, before letting his hand fall away and rubbing him palms together to try and warm them. "And you are correct, I am looking for work. I was down in Iowa, and heard stories of fighting up here in Michigan, and I figured I could be of service. You see, Ive pretty much lived my entire life a mercenary sir, and I bet if you could find any tribals from Arizona or someone from the city states in Texas they would tell you Im pretty good. Ive fought wars in Houston, San Antonio, the New Mexico and Arizona Wastelands, and Vegas. Ive worked as security for ranches in Montana and Wyoming, protected gas rigs in the mountains, and watched over caravans travelling all across the Great Plains. So, not to sound conceited or nothing sir, but I could probably work whatever kind of job you need me for. As long as it pays, Im willing to help."

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Staff Sergeant Mitchell Graham
Noon, 9 p.m. New Years Day
Crossroads of Baske Street and Glenis Street

The walk back to the base was uneventful. The combined platoons simply marched on the dark and deserted streets but they did not let their guard down. Sometimes a detachment was sent to clear a building that seemed to be suspicious and overall the mood was bleak and tense. Despite this, however, nothing happened. As for the fallen, they were carried on medical stretchers found in the hospital. Their mangled remains covered by white linen sheets. Two men were assigned per stretcher, their heads were down low but they were proud to carry the burden of bringing their friends and comrades back home. For the wounded, those that could walk walked but those that couldn't were carried by stretcher. It took about an hour to get back to base. The dead were placed in a neat row, their burial would come as the sun rose. The wounded were taken to the medical tents.

Mitchell found himself sitting on another crate, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He would have lit it if not for the impact it would have on his health. He still couldn't help but think of what happened down in that subway. As flash popped into his head and he found himself looking face to face with that thing. He remembered its disgusting tumors, stretched bubbling with toxins skin, and mutated long tongue. Mitchell swore, he flicked open a lighter and lit the fag in his hand. But, the thing he remembered most was the thing's last dying pleas:

"Help me"

Maybe the state's policy on the death of all ghouls was perhaps wrong. Of course, all feral ghouls were beyond. There was simply no way to save ferals and it was a mercy, to some duty, to put them out of their misery. Mitchell shuddered. How does it feel like to be a feral ghoul? To see your skin rot away in front of you and your mind slowly addle. Slowly, yet surely, you lose all that made human. You lose memories of those you loved. Those that loved you. Then you... Mitchell didn't know how to go on. As for the non-feral and sentient ghouls, Mitchell treated them like humans. But he would also hold them to the same standard he expected all Americans.

Those loyal he would welcome with open arms. Those not he would welcome with hellfire...

[Imperii Ecclesia]

Paul Cardinal Jaspen
Before Dawn, Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus (January 2nd)
Cathedral of the Assumption, Assumption Grotto

It was dark outside, before the dawn had even risen. Cardinal Jaspen rose to do his morning prayer. Before the crack of dawn every day he would go to spend a few hours to mediate in front of the Blessed Sacrament and also pray his Breviary readings. By this point only the night guard was awake, patrolling against any attack that might come against the walls of the Grotto. By this point he had learned to shoulder his weariness and do his duty. This time was important to him as well- a respite from the cares and responsibilities that he had. He valued this time because it was the time that he spent with Christ in meditation. Of course, one had to serve Christ in the other tasks as well, which is why he executed his responsibilities faithfully and well. But during this time, he could put his responsibilities aside and focused on the one thing that truly mattered. When he left his room, it was cold. It was always cold now. But that didn't matter to him. The Catacombs were at least isolated from the wind. He walked along the silent tunnels, before coming up into the Cathedral. He took a moment to look around. It still amazed him how this old Church, built in 1929, was still standing. Other buildings been destroyed in the blast, but this beautiful stone house of God had been spared by the almighty. He could recall when he had taken shelter here, and began the process of providing a place for survivors to stay and rebuild. It had been a long and arduous process, but, it had paid off. But his mind turned away to other, more important things- what he had come to do in the first place. He sat down in one of the choir stalls and began to pray.

Today was the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus. What a powerful day indeed. The glorious and magnificent name of Jesus, the nomen, quod est super omne nomen! No other name was quite so glorious as the name given to the one who redeemed mankind from his sins and restored us to himself. He thought of Saint Paul's profound exposition on the Holy Name: Humiliavit semetipsum factus obediens usque ad mortem, mortem autem crucis. Propter quod et Deus exaltavit illum, et donavit illi nomen, quod est super omne nomen: ut in nomine Jesu omne genu flectatur caelestium, terrestrium et infernorum, et omnis lingua confiteatur, quia Dominus Jesus Christus in gloria est Dei Patris. This name, the name ut omne genu flectatur caelestium! What wondrous a redeemer! How this name fulfilled the prophecy uttered so long ago by Isaias: et vocabitur nomen ejus, Admirabilis, Consiliarius, Deus, Fortis, Pater futuri saeculi, Princeps pacis. Every knee must genuflect indeed. For Christ had won it, merited it, by dying for our sins. By humbling himself, for being obedient, and dying on the Cross. So the Name of Jesus exalts the most high- it is a living testament to the love, power, glory and mercy of the Most High.

Then his mind began to wander. What about the poor people out there, enslaved, killing, raiding, destroying? They did not follow Christ. In fact, even most of the people attempting to rebuild civilization had seemingly just forgotten Christ. In a world where survival was a priority, they said, religion had no place. Religion was a thing of the past, a luxury they did not have. Why could they not see? Why were they blind? They suffer through this post-apocalyptic world, yet have no meaning or a false meaning in it. This world was in desperate need of the Christ. They need his Holy Name. But how? He mind jolted back. Here he was, supposed to be meditating, but his mind wandered yet again. He tried to focus again. This, of course, was normal. He was imperfect, of course- he tried his hardest but his meditation would often get distracted by this. He was too involved with the cares of this world to really detach himself fully- he knew this. That is what he was working on, but it was hard. He did have so much to be worried about. But this was his time to meditate. So that is what he would do. So, with new resolved, he began once more to pray. All throughout this, if any other had been in the Church to see him, all they would note is an old man with his head bowed, deep in some kind of prayer or thought.

[Commonwealth of Hank the Cat]

Ellen Contreras
Late day, New Years Day
Posadasville

Ellen Contreras sat at her desk below a large portrait of J. Posadas himself, filling out documents. She looked at a letter from The Capital Building which included a form she had sent, nodding with approval when she noted that her request for two bushels of wheat had been approved. She set it aside, making a note to send it to Comrade Ramirez, head of food production. She then looked over and picked up another letter from Outpost Brushpark, thanking her for allowing a missile launcher to be placed in the outpost.

Ellen frowned when she thought of the ceasefire. The concept of a ceasefire with the capitalists - particularly after the nuclear salvation! It was bad enough that some of the capitalists remained alive even after the apocalypse, but having a truce with them? How she hated the ceasefire! She remembered her many attempts to convince Jack Russel otherwise, and her ill-fated attempt to try and speak with the Nicholas Schultz of the Red Vanguard and ask him to break the ceasefire.

Ellen shook her head and put the letter away. After a moment of looking at her desk and thinking, she got up suddenly and began to leave her office. She turned around to the portrait of J. Posadas and said "Viva Posadas" and then walked out. She took the elevator down to the ground floor of the hospital and walked towards the barracks.

As she entered the barracks, a group of militia members stood up and saluted her and spoke "Viva Posadas". She responded "Viva Posadas" and spoke to a Ghoul militant. "Do you know where Comrade Baker is?"

The Ghoul nodded. "Yes, Comrade Contreras. I believe he is in his office right now."

Ellen nodded. "Thank you, Comrade. Viva Posadas." She then walked over to the office and entered to find Comrade Baker sitting at his desk. A weathered ghoul, Comrade Baker was dressed as typical for a Posadist - he was dressed in a faded brown Zhongshan jumpsuit with a Posadist armband around his left arm. He looked over at Contreras and stood up. He made a closed fist and said "Viva Posadas". Ellen responded "Viva Posadas". Comrade Baker then spoke to her. "Greetings, Comrade Contreras. What do you need?"

Ellen spoke. "Comrade Baker, I would like to send a representative to the Jack Russel's rally at Covenant. Would you be willing to go and represent the Caucus at the rally?" Comrade Baker was visibly surprised for a moment but then spoke. "I am, but I am concerned at how I will arrive in Covenant, comrade. To the south, FROST has their area."

Ellen thought for a moment and then spoke. "I will give you a squad of comrades. Go to Commonwealth Station. You will eventually reach the Warrens, which should theoretically allow you to go to Covenant unmolested by FROST and the other fascists." She paused for a moment and then spoke. "We must directly speak with Comrade Russel and encourage him to take the fight to FROST at once. We cannot allow the revolution to fester silently and allow the capitalists to build up and spread their infection everywhere. Viva Posadas."

Comrade Baker responded. "Viva Posadas." He then walked out of the building with a small group of four Posadists and walked to the armory and picked up five assault rifles. Baker himself took three hand grenades, and then the squad moved outside Posadasville and marched into the ruins. Ellen Contreras watched Comrade Baker and his squad move outside Posadas from a window. She went back to her office, sat down and began typing out a new pamphlet out on her typewriter.

[Vacif]

Kasper Griffin
New Years Mid-Day
Monroe

---

If there was one thing he was thankful for was that the elevators here actually worked and functioned at a very reasonable rate. Still though, 15 minutes was kind of a tight shave for him. Though with a bit of sweat on his forehead, he made it to the main lobby where a fireteam of soldiers waited for him. The first floor had been mostly cleared out and re-purposed for potential combat use, most of the furniture had either been moved or scrapped into makeshift cover and concealment. Sandbags and barricades covered the windows and reinforced the walls. The lobby was no different, except for maybe additional reinforcement as it served as an existing, practical entrance and exit for any would-be attackers. Some kind of heavy duty machine gun sat at the front desk, watching the double doors to the building. Kind of overkill since it'd been years since they cleared out the neighborhood, long before FROST got here, but he supposed even with the war on hiatus, they couldn't afford to let their guard down.

"Ready to go Kasper?" Asked one of the masked soldier.

"Yeah. First stop?" He asked.

"Greek town station. From there, we move down the line and check on the pipes along the way, make sure there's nothing about to collapse the metro, or flood it." Answered a rather nasally sounding soldier. "Once we hit the outpost in the Campus Martius, we go south through the tunnels to Cobo, and loop around back from the surface and check those posts there."

Kasper gave a defeated sigh, he had his work cut out for him. He'd probably be at this a while, no way in hell he'd finish all this alone in a single day. "Well shit, sun's not getting any brighter, let's get a move on."

The collection of soldiers all grunted as they fastened their scarves or masks if they hadn't already. It was a chilly mid-day. Cloudless for now though, little humidity so all they had to due was block out the wind and they'd be fine. All set to go, they marched outside into the parking lot outside. The parking lot had been cleared of all debris and snow, the debris had been cleaned up and turned into sturdy ramparts. More men outside patrolled the wall. Perfect sheets of snow covered their surroundings as they left the perimeter wall, save for the foot prints left by the foot patrols that had come and gone routinely between posts. "Follow the tracks of the other patrols to the station." Instructed the Team Leader.

[Labstoska]

Charlie Caro
Late afternoon, New years day
outskirts of Springwell village
Cain's territory, of course he ended up in the god damn kingdom of bloody Cain, the one place he wanted to avoid, the one place that he had taken the nightmarish metro system in order to avoid. It was as if the kingdom was an endless pit that sucked the rest of the world into it, it was inescapable. Springwell village itself was not so bad he could most likely pass as another peon under the iron fist of Cain if he ditched the PLFA uniform, no it was Fort Wayne that he would have to somehow break through and from what he had heard of the place it wasn't going to be easy, 30 of Cain's finest were constantly stationed there. What was worse there was no way to get around it, if he tried to go by the river the Canadian insurgents would most likely shoot him down, if he went around he would most likely be consumed by a horde of ghouls, if he went under... well better not to think about that.

"Oi what was you doing down in the tunnels, ish a forbidden zone by order of the baron of Springwell himshelf." Charlie looked upwards and so three particularly grotesque brutes each covered head to toe in a wall of iron armour, two of them were carrying scrap metal clubs and the meanest looking one in the middle was carrying a pipe rifle nothing to match the power of a plasma pistol however he hardly trusted his aim enough to go through with it, looked like he would need to use his greatest skill: speech.

"Well you..." Charlie started however grunt three quickly interjected "And wot is it with that commie uniform, we don't like those red bastards round 'ere". Charlie sighed to himself it appeared as if he was going to have to use a far riskier stratagem. "Because you fine retards I am on Cain's private business, I'm headed to the PLFA to do said business so if you wouldn't mind getting out of my way...". Grunt number two walked right up into Charlie's face and growled "Now for some reason I don't believe a F**king word you're saying little man!" Charlie met the grunt's sinister grimace with one of equal if not greater magnitude "Do you know what happens to those who question Cain's men ?" The grunt spat into Charlie's face and practically spat "Indulge me".

Charlie quickly pulled his plasma pistol up to the man's stomach and fired, his skin burnt off before he could scream and when the plasma had finished it's work there was nothing left but bones. The two remaining grunts looked at him in awe and fear trying to figure out weather they ought to fight or flee. Charlie quickly made sure to decide for them "Well seems like I can't move through Cain's territory without grunts harassing me, you two follow me to Fort Wayne I need an escort apparently." The two quickly snapped into place behind him not wanting to suffer the same fate as their friend and followed Charlie dutifully towards fort Wayne.

A few minutes later

The road to Fort Wayne was mercifully uneventful. Well as uneventful as the wasteland could be, Charlie had also started noticing that there sure were a lot of rad rats... uhh he could never look at those things in the same way again. Upon arriving at Fort Wayne Charlie had to admit that he was more than a little impressed, as a man who had been expecting a pile of cars with a flag on top he had been mildly surprised to see a fairly well equipped and fortified military installation and mildly perturbed to see how well armed the folks guarding it were, either the PLFA were far more aggressive than he previously thought or more likely Cain was just paranoid.

The moment he and his little escort entered the shadow of the fort they were stopped, the guards posted here were of a far greater calibre than those who had intercepted him at Springwell, first of all they all had actual weapons and actual armour. Five of the guards from the forts came down to Charlie and his party, one of the guards at the front of them said "So what are you here for?" Charlie smiled and replied "Heading through on Cain's private business" The man chuckled a little and said in a voice tripping sarcasm "Sure you are buddy, got any proof of that?" Charlie had dealt with many a military official in American tribes and more often than not the local chief was hardly concerned about such things as corruption. "Well I don't have any papers but don't ya think that Cain would only give power cells such as these", Charlie showed him a small portion of his power cells, "To only his most loyal followers? Here I'll let you have a look for yourself" Charlie handed over a power cell with a wink, instead of shooting him right there on the spot the guard smiled it appeared as if Charlie had made the right move. "Well boys I think it's fair to say that we can let him through". The guard pocketed the power cell and ordered the gates to be opened, Charlie left his escort behind and entered the PLFA and despite the fact it was enemy territory it felt damn good to be there.

[Alouite]

Lieutenant Charles Daniels
Mid-day
New Years' Day

The Lieutenant listened to Jimmy's overview of experience and nodded as the man concluded saying "As long as it pays, I'm willing to help."

Charles replied "Well then, if you are up for anything there is a task that we would be able to pay very well for." He walked over to his desk while continuing, "You see, due northeast of our location is an area run by the oh-so-presumptuously named 'Kingdom of Cain'."

He paused to unlock a file cabinet next to the desk and pulled out a file looking for a document. "Now, I will not lie, these men are not too kind to strangers."

The Lieutenant finds the particular document and pulls it out looking it over, "And they are a considerable obstacle to our mission of bringing order to Detroit."

He nods and changes his tone cutting to the point, "Right, so this here is the location of a downed Vertibird. On board it are the three miniguns it was transporting to our base when it was shot down. You see, we don't have any armed Vertibirds at present, we haven't for a decade, and that is a great hindrance to our combat efficiency. Sure we can fly men the long way around ground zero and avoid enemy contact, but it would be nice to be able to resume air raids in Southern and Central Detroit. As it turns out we had a tip that the downed Vertibird has not been looted yet, however that was months ago and we need to confirm that they are present before sending out a team to retrieve it. So here is my job for you, scout out the location, and if the Vertibird's guns are still on site use a signal flare so that we can send in an assault team to retrieve the weapons. I will compensate you for any supplies you use on the journey and as payment will allow you your choice of two weapons from our arsenal. Do you have any questions concerning such a mission?"

[Labstoska]

Charlie Caro
Riverfront
January 1st
Riverfront; it was at once so much and so much less than he had been expecting, the 'town' itslef was little more than a small cluster of vaugely restored building all gathered around the river, there was also a complete lack of any buildings that provided citizens entertainment except for a miniscule pub on the outskirts of town that brewed something that could only be described as an atomic bomb in a bottle. The little commune however managed to make up for this in it's salvaged hydroponics facility, a true monument to the old world that required pretty much the entire population of the town to keep it going, Charlie had already committed himself to finding out how it ticked.

As for Charlie himself he'd managed to arrive in the outskirts Riverfront during the dead of night, he doubted that the anarchic commune particularly cared about housing deeds so he found a building that looked vaugely as if it were capable of keeping out the elements for a night or two. It was to put it lightly a hive of filth, mould that moved ever so slightly covered the walls, the floors were covered with rubble all covered by a fine layer of dust and by God was it cold. As Charlie moved through the former home he managed to find a door leading down into a cold empty void that was the basement. Contrary to popular belief basements were quite often the safest place to stay in the post apocalyptic household, whatever had once lived in them had long since died of hunger, thirst or the ceaseless cold unfortunately Charlie was far less inclined to sleeping down there than he would've been a week ago, the metro had given him a less than savoury view of such places.

Practically all the remaining rooms in the house gave off the same impression more strange moss, more ruble and ruin. Only one thing left to check: the bedroom, a low miserable groan came from behind the moss infected door Charlie took his pistol from his holster and loaded in a power cell. The non-human ghouls were common throughout Detroit and Charlie was not willing to take any chances. He carefully opened the door and spied through the crack before opening it fully and taking a disdainful look of what lay on the bed. It was a ghoul wearing the tattered remains of nightclothes, most of it's body had been eaten away by both time and the shifting moss that now covered his body, Christ Charlie was able to see through the things cranium and even in there the green carcass of a brain was fused with moss.

The thing looked at him with one pleading eye, in that eye Charlie could see a vague glimmer of Humanity and as a proud American Charlie could not allow his fellow man to suffer in such a way, he aimed his pistol and finished what the bombs started. Upon leaving that room Charlie looked at the moss with a new found disgust and decided that the basement was not all that horrific after all.

In the morning Charlie awoke in complete darkness on a hard concrete floor, his rest was not the most pleasant as his mind kept wandering to moss and rats which seemed to crawl through the darkness around him yet it was rest enough. He pushed himself onto his feet and fumbled around for his flashlight. Upon leaving the basement he began his work, he was under orders to create a base from which covert operations could be conducted that required a building to be three things: discreet, escapable and capable of covering a few secrets, the house he was in was none of those things.

He picked up his stuff and began searching for a more suitable base of operations. After moving up and down the avenue for a bit he finally managed to find a place that seemed suitable, he managed to find a collection of buildings that seemed to fit his criteria. The sign in front of him proudly proclaimed Nicholson Terminal & Dock, the warehouses were in good condition and after a quick tour of the premises it looked as if it had been raided extensively which meant that their would most likely be no unexpected visitors however it was still far too open, no instead there was a warehouse behind it there was that housed a couple of old boats that was fairly out of the way. Charlie made his way into the building, even the boats themselves had been stripped down to nothing more than a wooden carcass. After scouting out the place for a little Charlie succeeded in finding a small office room, upon entering he was pleased to see that the desk was still somewhat intact. He put his briefcase down on it, he'd been lugging the damn thing around like a smashed arm for hours and now he'd finally be able to put it to some use. Inside it was the portable radio and the affidavit that told him how to use it. After an extraordinarily difficult procedure of getting the radio to work Charlie was fairly convinced he had it on.

"Detroit Union base this is Lieutenant Caro, I've managed to secure a safe base of operations on the outskirts of Riverfront over." Charlie leaned back onto the wall and waited, it was gonna be a long road to destroying the PLFA but he was starting to formulate an idea on how to do it.

[Cainesland]

Streets of Detroit

“One Mississippi... two Mississippi... three Mississippi” Calvin peered through the wreckage of an old record store. Duke Wellington, Big Bopper, Little Richard, Buddy Holly, Jack Benny and others laid scattered along the floor. Dirt and dust covered the racks and a beam looked like it had collapsed and a few records were cracked or broken on the floor.

Calvin picked up the big bopper record. It was purple, with a gentleman picking up a phone and a lady doing the same. Two tears were on the cover, peeling the artwork on the cover. Putting it under his arm he turned to walk outside.

The street was a grey wasteland. Broken down pickups and sedans sat parked next to each other alongside a row of long broken parking metres. Skyscrapers on the other side of the street overlooked the street, casting a shadow over the street.

He left the building and started travelling down the road. He boots hit the mud, squishing it down and making a slurping sound as they come up.

Up ahead, 3 men came around the corner. They were wearing t-shirts, slacks, and carrying pipes.

[Vacif]

Kasper Griffin
New Years Mid-Day
Detroit City
Greek town Station

---

The snow was about knee high is some places, but the tracks of the other patrols were still fresh, it hadn't snowed in the last 14 hours. It was a nice, dry cold, so his heavy green coat was blocking the cold unlike it would for an invasive damp cold that pierced you to your core. His shotgun was in his hands, but it wasn't exactly up and ready. He was more focused on marching through the snow and keeping pace with the soldiers who were constantly scanning their surroundings. Visibility was crystal clear, and the wind wasn't strong enough to cause loose snow to fly.

Eventually though, they made it to the Greek Town Casino where the station was. Front entrance was barricaded and manned by a fireteam. Inside there was a balcony watching over the lobby where a medium machine gun sat, watching the front lobby bellow. Kasper walked around in a small circle as he waited for the team leaders to get through all their jargon and clearance. He didn't really pay attention to what they were saying. The men shared a laugh before waving the rest of the ground through. Kasper was eager to get to work, though secretly he was hoping that inspection on the station's internals would finish after dinner because the Greek Town post had some pretty good food from the last time he visited, which was back in November for Thanksgiving.

The five of them shuffled through the revolving doors towards the lobby, half a dozen more eyes watched their movements. Kasper had been here quite a few times before for travel and maintenance. He knew where to go, the route to take. He glanced around at the surroundings, New Years decorations hung across the walls and the barricades. Some trash from the past party was still laying on the ground. There were relatively few civilian staff in the Greek Town outpost, it was mostly soldiers, maintenance, and support staff. The cooking facilities here were fairly extensive, so they usually slapped a good line cook or two here, switched soldiers out here for rest and relaxation. Recreational facilities here, as one would expect were also fairly extensive. They were still in the field, but they were in the back line.

FROST didn't fuck around with security at the very least. The buildings in their territory had been thoroughly cleared out of feral ghouls, and unfortunately some normal ghouls as well. Some too stubborn or unlucky caught a bullet. Any minefields were expertly mapped, and general environmental hazards had been cleared so no one died by accident because of an old car, or hanging signs and rubble. You never felt vulnerable in any of the outposts, and patrols were fairly regular. It was almost nice, had it not been for the fact that there was a literal war going on. If you walked just twenty minutes west-south-west you'd hit FROST controlled Detroit Police Department. Place was pretty badly damaged from frontline combat, the streets were pockmarked with impact craters, rubble had been formed into makeshift defilades. It looked like a proper warzone unlike where he was now.

"Well here we are. Time to get to work Kasper." announced the Team Leader.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response.

[Cainesland]

The three armed men started coming towards Calvin. They looked determined in their approach. These were thugs, the type that would mug or kill unwary travellers in the gang infested core of the city and start scavenging later. Calvin moved his hand towards his belt. The three men started to move faster, closing the gap. Two of them grouped up and started jogging towards him, the third broke off to flank him. Calvin stepped towards the iron wreckage of the building next to him. As the two men came towards him they raised their pipes to pummel him, Calvin raised his pistol in return and aimed towards their heads. As their arms came down Calvin concentrated and pulled the trigger. 1... 2... the bullets left the chamber and made clean holes through the foreheads of the two thugs standing right in front of him. They soon collapsed on the ground. Just then, Calvin felt a pain in his left shoulder. A pipe was being pressed against it. He reacted, feeling the pain, by kneeling down with the blow. As the blow was raised again Calvin turned and shot at him, knocking him off balance. The man took a step back. As the man regained balance, Calvin concentrated and took another shot leaving a hole through his forehead as well. The third thug fell to the ground like the other two.

A throbbing could be felt in his shoulder. It was probably nothing a little rest could let help, but he wanted to lay down. He started his trek back to his home. After around an hours travel Calvin came to a large building in springwell village. The building had multiple floors, a curved driveway with a covering roof. People were going in and out as he arrived. The building was his home, and the broadcasting location of Jackrabbit radio.

[Alouite]

Comrade Winston Bakersfield
January 1st, Mid Day
Covenant, West Barracks

Winston Bakersfield popped the cork off of his whisky and took a long swig, enjoying the slow day. He was relieved to have time off. Before the ceasefire Bakersfield and his militia were stationed on the front lines in the West Side Industrial Zone against FROST, a tiring and intense posting that had nearly resulted in his hand getting blown off by a FROST sniper. Covenant was a fair more laid back location, as even the barracks were filled with half-drunk militiamen who had partaken in the revelries yesterday and now were lain across the floors of the barracks in various states of consciousness.

Bakersfield looked around at Covenant, not seeing anything of interest, just some civilians wandering around until noticing that a troop of partisans were marching towards the north. He got up and walked over to the group, walking with them to catch up to their commander, and then began speaking to him. "Are you heading to the Warrens?"

The militia commander shook his head. "No. My militia has been ordered to head into Cain territory to liberate a internment camp scouts detected along the border. The Red Vanguard believe it is being used to process slaves before they are transported into Cain's core territory. Will you join us?" Bakersfield nodded affirmatively. "I believe I will, Comrade." The commander smiled and replied "Thank you, we can use as much extra manpower as we can. I believe that Secretary Pulaski has sent requests to numerous militias within Covenant to spare troops. In order to take the fight to Cain we will need to erode his support."

The militants promptly began marching towards the gates of Covenant, where they would group up with anyone who wished to join them and then march to the Cain/PLFA border.

---

Brandon Ross
January 1st, Mid Day
Detroit Union Airbase

Brandon Ross took off his hat and ran his hand across his hair as he prepared to make his address. He looked over at the engineers, the only people with in inside the recording area. Ross spoke authoritatively to them. "Ensure this is on a secure channel. I doubt Cain and his ilk have much use for radios but I don't want the PLFA knowing of our attack." One of the engineers saluted and replied "Yes sir." A few minutes later they stopped fiddling with the wires and gave him a thumbs up. "Switched to secure channel Washington Nine, sir."

Brandon Ross nodded and began speaking into the mic. "This is FROST Commander Brandon Ross on secure channel Washington Nine to all FROST military personnel within sectors one to nine within Southern Operational Command. Requesting any available FROST personnel head to Detroit Union Airbase for briefing on confidential mission. Over." Ross nodded at one of the engineers, who stopped the broadcast. "Monitor the airwaves to ensure that the Cain forces did not intercept." Ross said to the engineers who replied "Yes sir". Ross then put on his cap and walked out of the room, heading to the control tower.

When Ross got to the control tower a officer stopped him and led him to a radio resting on a table. The officer spoke quietly. "We have received word from Lieutenant Caro, sir." Ross replied "Tune me in." Ross sat done and turned on the radio and switched to the channel set aside for Caro's personal use. He then spoke quietly into it. "Operative, this is Commander Brandon Ross of FROST Southern Operation Command. Please respond."