The Endless Knot (Post-Apoc./Alien Invasion|IC|Open)

[New Udonia]

Weston G. Foster
The Treat of a Safe Retreat

He watched the chaos unfold as some people rushed to assist the strangers. Those near the stairs were starting to leave, which he interpreted as the smart move. Weston holstered his pistol and followed Jack and Shenhua down into the basement and out into the tunnel, steadily increasing his speed up to the safe maximum. I'm so glad I didn't take the cans. Canned food was heavy, dried food and paper goods weren't. He wasn't sure how long it would take him to get back home, but there was one thing he was desiring above all others which kept his feet flying. It was resting inside of his sleeping bag, under a friend's watch, and it had thirty rounds. That, and he should probably purchase some grenades if he survived today.

[Mercatus]

Monsieur Jean-Kuc Lafayette
Comrade Ivan Ivanovich Ivanovsky

“Damn Scaly ruining our little day...”, Ivan cursed under his breath as he moved stealthily across the hallways of the department store to tell the others to hurry up with their scavenging operation, while Jean-Luc had kept an eye on the set of roller doors that made the entrance. Thankfully, the Ragon had moved on and left, and hopefully they’ll be able to leave without incident.

Jean-Luc stayed behind a set of crates, the anti-tank rifle set on another crate to stabilise it. The scope was directly aimed at the door, giving him a significantly farther sight range, and probably the prerequisite to fire into the Ragon’s eyes.

Then... there was the explosion. It was so loud and bad that Jean-Luc almost pressed the trigger. He didn’t, though, and he quickly picked up the rifle. He turned just to see Ivan slinking towards him, who had tapped Shenhua to hurry up earlier. “You heard that?”, he said to the Russian, who nodded.

“Obviously.”, Ivan replied. “So we gotta get outta here now.”

“We should.”, Jean-Luc replied as he began to journey to the office to recommend to Hannah for them to leave now, but Hannah had the same idea, it seemed.

Damn girl, you shouldn’t break Ivan’s heart now!, Jean-Luc thought aloud as he saw Hannah waving her arms. Then, Jack Dredd and George were both asking Hannah as of how they could help... not so good. Travis was there as well, firing smoke grenades. Damn it.

Jean took up his rifle and placed his eye on the scope, looking through the entrance. He saw what seemed to be soldiers of some sort, probably from the government. Turning back towards Ivan, he yelled. “Get the stuff outta here and get back into the tunnels just as boss lady here said!”

Ivan nodded, but he didn’t look very well, as he was now going to be encumbered by double the normal weight. “Alright, Jean!”, he shouted back as he ran as fast as the heavy baggage would allow, which wasn’t very much.

Jean walked up to the wounded George before lightly tapping his arm. “Your desire for heroism is appreciable, but sacré dieu get back to the tunnels! I’d tell you one thing about delaying the Ragons, and the only way is to offer yourself up as a meal offering.”, he said, casting a glare. “I fought them as a general on Enceladus, and you will be wise to heed what I say.”

“Get out and have the nurses clean your wounds.”, he said as he set the rifle at a set of crates a little distance inside the building. He loaded a bullet; an 5.7 mm aluminium shell filled with tungsten particles, of which he had stocks of as the Marine Interstellaire personnel he had during his flight into the tunnels carried several suitcases of the ammunition while another had a case with the rifle in it. There were very few times he actually had to use it, though, and this was the tenth bullet he would be using in five years. He look past the smoke, straining his eyes for energy discharges from Ragon troopers. He then fired, the distinct whistle of the Cadavrés bullet streaming through the air reminiscent of a bomb being dropped from a plane. It soon produced a guttural grunt as it had hit a Ragon somewhere.

He cocked the gun, and reloaded. “Ms. Brown, Ivan has evacuated along with a two person’s worth of supplies.”, he said to her. “Hopefully those soldiers would recognise this gunshot and go towards us in addition with your waving.”

Somewhat smiling from shock, George said, "No, I can't make it. I would be a liability anyways, I would hinder the group's escape through the tunnels. Besides, you may have fought them on Enceladus, and I survived a trip on foot and survived close encounters. I think I can handle myself." He tried to get up again, but only made it to kneel before the pain became unbearable. I have to push on he thought. He slowly got up and gritted his teeth. More blood came from the wounds with each step, and he was once again reduced to crawling. He tried to get up one last time, stumbling over again about 3/4 of the way to the tunnel. I can't make it... he thought. Travis' smokescreen apparently wasn't working, so he decided to help out. Despite common belief, buckshot doesn't continue to spread on and on, the group of pellets was actually rather concentrated. He aimed his Model 1887 at the underbelly of the gunship, and fired. The explosive buckshot did exactly... squat. George again attempted to crawl to the tunnel, but couldn't move with any sort of speed.

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

Jack felt a curious poking sensation in his chest. Then he saw a dart sticking out of it.

"Ah fuck," he said as he yanked it out. A slight stream of blood issued from the hole, but he was more worried that he was feeling a little woozy. Actually, a lot woozy.

"I uh... I think I'm gonna pass out soon. Low BMI and all that," said Jack as he started towards the tunnels, still mostly steady on his feet. Then he tripped, and had the distinct feeling he'd chipped a tooth. "Some assistance would be appreciated," he called out sheepishly.

I hate tranq darts, he thought as he got back up and continued.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Jack Dredd

Jack felt a curious poking sensation in his chest. Then he saw a dart sticking out of it.

"Ah fuck," he said as he yanked it out. A slight stream of blood issued from the hole, but he was more worried that he was feeling a little woozy. Actually, a lot woozy.

"I uh... I think I'm gonna pass out soon. Low BMI and all that," said Jack as he started towards the tunnels, still mostly steady on his feet. Then he tripped, and had the distinct feeling he'd chipped a tooth. "Some assistance would be appreciated," he called out sheepishly.

I hate tranq darts, he thought as he got back up and continued.

The effects of Ragon tranquillisers were very rapid and Jack was not going to be carrying on for more than a couple of seconds before he ended up as catatonic as the Israeli trooper Lafayette had carried down into the tunnels. The drugs would temporarily inhibit the victim's somatic nervous system, leaving them conscious, with a beating heart and able to breathe but incapable of moving. The effect would start to wear off between two and four hours (mostly depending upon how large the person was), though they would still be feeling woozy for a day or two after. The Ragons preferred to keep their prey alive. Most people who were captured were carted off, though to where exactly was unknown nightmare fuel...

"Let me help you my friend," before Jack could keel over again, the middle-eastern looking man had ducked under his shoulder, offering him support as he helped him down towards the bolt-hole, "Just relax and try not to hurt yourself, you are with friends."

Travis Currie

...

He was moving as soon as the bolt left the weapon to find another window, smashing that one open and repeating the same process over and over. The explosive bolts probably couldn’t kill a Ragon in one round, but they could definitely put the fear of a warm blooded God Into them. But sooner or later he’d run out of Explosive Bolts and have to try something else. Or worse; the Gunship would put its attention on him.

There was an explosion, a spray of blood and the unmistakable shape of a human... or parts of one at any rate, scattering in the mist. It was accompanied by a roar of anger from one of the shapes. Either it had been hurt or Travis had killed someone it had been attempting to collect. Possibly both.

"Everybody, into the tunnels, now!" Hannah called. Nobody else looked like they were coming out of the mist and every moment they spent outside was a moment closer to being taken.

She glanced up at Travis as she retreated through the doorway. He would be drawing attention to himself soon, "Come on, we need to go!" she called, though at that moment the situation was made ten times worse by George blasting a great big hole in the wall next to him.

A split second later a dart came searing through the smoke, aimed straight for Travis' chest. Hannah had reacted at the same moment, dropping her weapon and dashing for the catwalk. She had spare guns. Guns could be replaced. People could not.

[Sivala]

Travis Currie

Travis was just sliding his weapon back into his holster when his chest erupted into burning pain. Looking down he saw a rather hefty sized dart protruding from his chest. Already feeling woozy, he pulled it from his chest and stared at it for a half second before remembering it was a very bad idea to be out in the open. He willed his feet to move and got about three steps before he tripped over his own ankles, the world spun about violently in his field of vision, and he collapsed to the catwalk in a dull thud.

The last thing he saw was Hannah rushing towards him with a concerned expression on his face. "Chargin'... Fer... The Gener-" Was all he managed to get out as his body began to betray him. What a screw up.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Travis Currie

Travis was just sliding his weapon back into his holster when his chest erupted into burning pain. Looking down he saw a rather hefty sized dart protruding from his chest. Already feeling woozy, he pulled it from his chest and stared at it for a half second before remembering it was a very bad idea to be out in the open. He willed his feet to move and got about three steps before he tripped over his own ankles, the world spun about violently in his field of vision, and he collapsed to the catwalk in a dull thud.

The last thing he saw was Hannah rushing towards him with a concerned expression on his face. "Chargin'... Fer... The Gener-" Was all he managed to get out as his body began to betray him. What a screw up.

"Okay...you'll want this when you're fully active again." Hannah took a second to grab Travis's coil-bow and tucked it into his belt, keeping as flat to the ground as possible the whole time. Either the Ragons didn't see her or they wanted to take a more 'hands on' approach to dealing with her was unclear (it was not unknown for Ragon to toy with their more defenceless prey, like a cat, and Hannah was unarmed). Either way a second shot, which would have spelled doom for the pair of them didn't ring out.

She was small and didn't stand a chance at lifting him up, so instead she grabbed him under the arms, "If the worst comes to the worst, I'll stash you somewhere where you can recover and draw them off," she promised, grunting as she dragged Travis a few feet along the gangway to the near stairs.

She still wasn't sure what 'chargin fer the gener' had meant? Something about the generator of his? It was far less important than he was. She dragged Travis down onto the stairs, tried to carry him down properly with just his heels dragging, but once again, Hannah's lack of physical strength caught up with her and she tumbled backwards, falling down the stairs from the gangway and dragging Travis down on top of her. It was definitely the fastest way to get down the stairs, but it ended with her bruised and battered and now with Travis' dead weight on top of her. She could see the final flight down to the broken basement. So close, yet so far, "Can someone give me a hand?" she gasped. She didn't think anything was broken, but there were too many sore patches to count, "I'm over here!"

Smoke was billowing into the building from the outside and it could only be a few moments before huge scaly feet came crunching into the interior searching for their quarry...

[Mercatus]

George, seeing his fellow scavengers leaving for the tunnels, tried to crawl as fast as he could.

He simply couldn't crawl fast enough. He heard someone fall down some steps, and a female voice called for help in the direction of a gangway in the warehouse. In a final ditch to stand up, he came up to a kneel, and then pushed with all his might. He yelled with agony as more blood came from his wounds, soaking his jeans. He began to limp towards Hannah, seeing that she had fallen over, possibly breaking an arm or a leg. He tried his best at running, only managing a repeated stumbling. With each step, another grunt or yelp of pain followed. His breath was raspy, but he thought to himself, C'mon, you just have to get to the stairwell, you can stand! He came down a flight of stairs, seeing Hannah under an unconscious Travis. He arrived after a painful ordeal, and said, "No Scalies comin' down, yet. Just me, are you ok?" He dragged Travis off of Hannah, and then grabbed Travis' wrists and began to pull, with each step bringing tremendous pain. He was managing, and after what seemed like ages, he had finally reached a basement where the steps ended. He sat down in an old wooden chair, looking at his wounds. A large, dagger-shaped piece of metal had stuck itself into his thigh. Smaller pieces of metal and wood had also lodged themselves into his side and lower leg, and it had a high chance of getting infected. He only had one small bottle of vodka that he stuffed in his backpack to clean the wounds, as he had dropped the food and drink when the explosion that wounded him occurred. Slowly, he began to pull the large piece out.

[Kylantha]

---

Huggy Turnipseed | Lil' Debil Wigglesworth

---

Something could see Hannah laying there, abandoned. It crept up to her as the smoke did, footsteps so light that they didn't make a sound. Down the stairs they went, up until the last flight. Then, it pounced, landing near Hannah's head. And only when it nuzzled against her was it clear that it was no Ragon, but a cat. And just behind it was a person who was almost as quiet coming down the stairs. He leaned over her, holding a finger up to the mouthpiece of his gas mask.

The stranger tapped lightly on her shoulder to let her know he was going to lift her. When he did, he was gentle as possible. And once she was stoood up, he paused to see if there were any injuries that he wasn't aware of. "Hm." he jerked his head toward the basement, urging her on. The cat followed closely behind them, glancing over its shoulder every now and then.

On they went carefully down the steps, the ambiguous fellow humming a strange, aimless tune as he guided Hannah. Once they had gone far enough inside, the stranger led Hannah near a wall where some rubble from the earlier explosion had gathered. The rocks, he thought, could serve as a suitable makeshift seat.

"There, there." he said to her in a wispy voice. His voice came through a lot creepier thanks to the mask. He brought his masked face really up close to Hannah's, closely observing her before pulling away. Immediately afterwards, he stood in the middle of the tunnel and stared for several moments. He'd stopped humming. The sound of Ragons was unmistakable, and the young man grimaced at them. From what he could hear, they noticed the humans' underground egress, but they couldn't or wouldn't follow. Ah, that's too bad. he shrugged, then looked over his shoulder at Hannah and the other people nearby. Travis, George.. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, since his eyes were totally invisible. But he was watching. Very intently.

At the sight of George trying to dislodge the metal fragment from his leg, the stranger sniggered and stepped over, kneeling like a child to watch. "Go on," he said, his tone somewhat sarcastic and mocking. "Pull it out real slow. Let's see what happens huh?"

Part of him wanted the guy to do it. Part of him wanted to warn him about what a bad idea that was. He was truly torn. Nonetheless, he remained near George, twiddling his fingers on his knees in anticipation of the man's next course of action.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Hannah groaned, struggling to get up. She'd be alright, she just needed a moment or two... Which was when something nudged her face. She'd had a cat as a child and the sensation was immediately recognisable, "Hi... What are you doing here?" she murmured.

Which was when she spotted the guy in the gas mask... And were those rabbit ears?!? Her heart lurched in fright. He wasn't one of her crew. He held up a finger for silence and she didn't cry out. She didn't know what he wanted, what he planned to do to her, but he'd struggle to make it worse than what the Ragons would.

It wasn't worse, he was helping her. She bit her lip, letting him guide her down into the darkness of the tunnels under New York. Behind her she could hear the crunch of huge reptilian feet. She knew they wouldn't be followed in here. The Ragons could no more follow her into the tunnels than a human could follow a mouse that had run into a hole in the skirting boards. The Ragons had taken people today. How many she wasn't sure, but she had escaped, as had all of the people who had started out with her. It could have been so much worse, "Thank you," she said quietly before he left her.

Hannah was silent for a few minutes, nursing her bruised ribs. When she did speak up she was quieter than usual, which could have been either because she was injured or because she was worried about the Ragons overhead, "Everyone, I'm going to suggest we move a few hundred yards further into the tunnels. There's an old subway train where we can sit and rest up, at least until the people who got darted can walk again. If anyone has any alcohol or painkillers they want to share, I'm sure a few of us would appreciate that... and George, leave any foreign objects embedded until we can get a proper medic to take a look at you. If you nick an artery we'll struggle to contain the bleeding."

[Mercatus]

Damn George thought. He stopped pulling the large piece out, and left it in. "Ok, I'll leave it, but I don't know if I could walk with any speed." He slowly stood up, wincing so as to not make any noise that would alert the scalies outside. His leg was extremely bloody, and his jeans were stained dark red. He could barely stand, and he tried to walk, but only managed a stumbling limp before he fell to his hands. "Yeah, I actually can't walk period." he said. He tried standing again, but the feeling of serrated metal cutting into muscle forced him back down. "I have a small bottle of Vodka I saved for cleaning wounds, if anyone needs it. If anyone has any more, let me know." he said. He tried bracing himself against the wall with his uninjured left leg, and began to try and hop on that leg while bracing against the wall, but he quickly tired this way.

[Kylantha]

---

Huggy Turnipseed | Lil' Debil Wigglesworth

---

"Tsk," the masked young man stood up abruptly and walked away from George. "That's no fun at all." he muttered under his breath as he took another glance down the tunnel. There was no way he was going back down there, so he would have to hang around these people for now. He turned his head towards them again, getting a good look at each one, and seemed to immediately take interest in Travis. Moving quietly, he hovered around the man and observed that he had been rendered unconscious by one of those Ragon tranquiliser darts.

"Ah. And here I was thinking he was dead or dying." he said to himself, stroking his chin under the mask. "Well, I guess I'm stuck here for now." he began stretching his back. "If you don't mind, Lil' Debil and I will stick around for a little while." he said to no one in particular, and the cat mewed as if to agree with its master.

[Dyelli Beybi]

"Someone help George please," Hannah more ordered than requested, "George, you need to relax. You don't need to do everything yourself. I'm not going to leave anyone behind."

She gave a slight smile. It momentarily turned into a grimace as she stood up, "And I wasn't talking about the alcohol for wound cleaning. Remember I was watching everything on CCTV, I know a few of you raided the booze and since we're going to be sitting around for a bit I figured we should celebrate still being alive."

---

Four Hours Later: Inside a long-abandoned subway car

By now, the effects of the darts would be beginning to wear off those affected, everyone but the Israeli trooper who it turned out had been hit twice. Presumably one dart had been intended for the Middle Eastern man, whose name it turned out was 'Tariq al Zubi', apparently a Linguistics Professor from the University of Amman (which raised more questions than it answered). He had taken to looking after the young woman who was, only now, starting to show a return of motor control.

The subway car was not an ideal location to be holed up but it was better than being out in the tunnels. There were benches, which offered some small comfort along with adequate room for George to lie down and keep his leg up. The car also offered some cover from the wind that whistled down the tunnels, though it remained cold. It was also dark, pitch black apart from any torches that people had carried along with them on the scavenger mission. While it was unlikely that the torches would run out any time soon, rationing their use also wasn't a bad idea. If they started to run out of light, the crew would need to head back to the surface, which would put them in danger of Ragon attack.

Down here, while the lizards could probably fit into a subway tunnel, their bulk would make it hard for them to manoeuvre around obstacles which, in turn would make them sitting ducks. If you shot them enough, they'd eventually drop... at least that was why Hannah thought they didn't come down here. In truth she didn't really know. Nobody did.

Hannah had spent the first few minutes checking on everyone, particularly George and Travis, making sure they were comfortable and warm enough, before retreating to one end of a darkened carriage with a bottle of cheap whiskey. Those who knew her would know Hannah felt the cold worse than most and she had looked miserable in the ancient subway carriage... at least until the alcohol had started to kick in. A few hours in, and despite a conscious effort to control herself, Hannah was beginning to look a little worse for the whiskey, though at least she was chirpy, whistling a tune to herself as she waited, "Hey Tariq!" she called across the carriage, "How is she doing?"

"Starting to come around," the well-spoken Professor confirmed. He paused for a long moment before adding, "Her name is Rebecca Cohen."

"Rebecca," Hannah repeated, "Once she can walk we need to get moving. It isn't too far but I'm worried about George. He needs to see a proper doctor, get that stuff out of his leg and get stitches." She paused for a moment, then sloshed her bottle in the direction of the others in the carriage, "Anyone want a drink?"

[Sivala]

Travis Currie

“Me.” Travis says, his voice still a little slurred from the remaining tranquilizer being metabolized in his blood stream. He felt awful, like the one time he had gone to one of those University ragers when he had still been in school. His head pounded, his body was burning with something akin to fever, and the hole in his chest ran ragged lines of pain through his body if he tried to twist or bend his torso.

To make matters worse, his pedal generator had been left behind in the scuffle. He’d have to make a new one out of spare parts; if he could find some. If they weren’t marked as essential for resistance projects elsewhere. Though all of this was a long second to the thought that Travis might have killed someone. He couldn’t have been sure through the smoke cover, but he had seen the pieces... The limbs go flying. Was it murder or mercy? Had it been a corpse or a prisoner? He’d tear himself apart of if he let his thoughts go on and on like this. Distraction was required, and with nothing on hand to build, repair, or design, it means he was stuck interacting with people. Hence the liquor.

He was never a real people person. They just... Didn’t understand how he thought and how he saw the world, and Travis didn’t have the patience to explain it to most of them. Part of why he didn’t mind working with Hannah is she never asked him to. It just worked. “I’d say you owe me a drink for my generator... But I think saving my life might beat all that out.” He says, blabbering a little, “I’m not sure. I- well-“ Travis exhales explosively, the words tying his his tongue. “Thank you, Hannah. For dragging me down the stairs and dropping us both. It was a riveting experience, but it beats dying.”

Argh! Why couldn’t he just say words like regular people? It all came out wrong. This might be the real reason Travis prefers machines to human beings; they don’t talk to him. He can tinker and play with them all day, and not one of them requires he say a word.

[Mercatus]

In the Subway Car

He found his prize after digging around in his bag, a bottle of whiskey and his metal canteen. He filled the canteen up, and lifted it to Hannah, who was holding her bottle as well, and he drank. George looked down at his leg. Yeah, that crap needs cleaning. he thought. He took the travel-sized bottle from his pack, and opened it. I have to ration this carefully. He drizzled the strong alcohol over the biggest wound, and then the smaller ones. That should stave off infection. He was weary from his wounds and from the combat and fought to stay awake. It was most likely night time outside, or getting close to it. He drank more of the whiskey in an effort to keep awake, and it succeeded for now. He remembered seeing fleeing people when the gunship attacked, and it gave him a painful reminder of the day the Ragon invaded. He was in downtown Houston, and dismembered bodies were falling and layed everywhere. The attack on Houston had been one of the most brutal, first the buildings came down, along with people in them, and then the troops landed. He was driving to escape and saw the lizards dismembering and decapitating people all around, and he remembered them like it was yesterday. Then he got home by some miracle, only to noticed Ragon troops executing his parents in the backyard, and his little brother running into the woods. He was not usually an emotional man, and always tried to hide everything and keep a straight face, but he couldn't help it as his eyes began to water and he tried to hide his face. It was something no kid should ever have to see. It was messed up. He pondered the fact that humans blew each other apart every day before the war and continue to do so even after the war, and he questioned how people even survived a year after the invasion, much less 5 years, with only around a billion people still alive. He drank more whiskey to drown the thoughts.

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

Jack woke up with a heluva headache and a dim memory of getting hit with a dart of some sort. He quickly deduced he'd been hit by a dart of some sort. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, hoping he wasn't about to be eaten by a Ragon, and was relieved to see human faces, if not familiar ones. Sitting up from the bench where he'd been placed and hearing Hannah's recommendation to drink, he raised a hand like he was still in a classroom, about to answer a teacher's question.

"Could someone pass me a bottle? I've always wanted to try alcohol," he said with a wry grin. He promptly laid back down as his headache overcame him.

[New Udonia]

Weston G. Foster
Stop and Drop

This is what I get for leaving my sleeping bag at home. He had wanted to keep going, but when they had noticed the train car which they had used as a resting stop before they left for the warehouse raid, the urge to rest overcame him. There was no boss to fire him for missing a day of work. Weston didn't remember who exactly had suggested that waiting there would be for the best. The logic was clear, if Brown survived, she would likely bring all of her living companions back to this subway car. The anonymous hunch turned out to be correct.

Several hours later he was awoken to the sound of the car doors being opened from the outside. He flinched but didn't pull his weapon. If a Ragon wanted to open a door in such a civilized manner, come on in. Turns out it was humans, some of them familiar. Looks like everyone had survived, and they had brought some friends. They seemed to have got off easy, that is everyone except for George. He tried to go back to sleep, but it was difficult enough trying to sleep next to a handful of acquaintances. He couldn't make himself sleep inside a crowded car, especially when he didn't know who was who.

"Rebecca," Hannah repeated, "Once she can walk we need to get moving. It isn't too far but I'm worried about George. He needs to see a proper doctor, get that stuff out of his leg and get stitches." She paused for a moment, then sloshed her bottle in the direction of the others in the carriage, "Anyone want a drink?"

Hearing the request for a doctor, Weston was immediately reminded that a doctor had been leading the initial evacuation party. Where is Gill? Did that guy run all the way home? He had stashed his backpack underneath the bench he was lying on, but he kept at least one weapon either on his person or within range 24-7. It was as easy as ever to resist the lure of alcohol. The strangers aren't drinking, we should probably remain sober.

[Europa Undivided]

The Subway Car

---

”Bozhe moi, tovarishchi.” , Ivan remarked as everyone appeared to be heading into the subway, where he was staying like a homeless person while waiting for the rest to arrive from that damnable fiasco that was the raid on the supermarket. It looked like Weston arrived way sooner than the rest of their merry company, though.

The first thing Ivan noticed about them was that there were more people than before at least by a dozen or so. Second was that these newcomers wore military uniforms, with them having badges that identified as being mostly from Middle Eastern countries. “What in the world are ye doing in this side of the Atlantic Ocean?”, he muttered lowly too weakly for any of them to hear even as Jean went in the door still bearing the Israeli trooper. He looked tired and exhausted, but he still managed to weakly smile at the Russian.

“Well, well, look at who it is.”, Ivan said to Jean as the Frenchman looked down at Ivan, who was seated on a bench inside the darkened subway car. “Did you know that your stuff was twice as heavy as the ones I got?”

“A woman is still heavier.”, Jean replied.

Ivan rolled his eyes. “Ah, how lucky you are...”

“I wouldn’t consider carrying an unconscious Israeli soldier on my arms lucky, especially while facing the possibility of being chased down by those big scaly lizards.”, Jean answered. “That and the tungsten filled bullets are like entire wine bottles hanging on my belt.”

“Nah, nah, whatever.”, Ivan waved him off. “What’s important that we’re all alive, and we got the stuff out of there too, brother.”

“Thaaat’s right.”, Jean answered. ”You see that old guy there with glasses? He’s a Jordanian linguistic professor from the University of Amman. The name’s Tarik al Subi...”

“Zubi, perhaps?”, Ivan corrected, to which the Frenchman chuckled lowly before hugging him tightly enough that Hannah could have sworn that the Russian couldn’t breath. “Did you get any champagne, Ivan?”, Jean asked.

Ivan shook his head. “No, but there’s rich red wine.”

“Hmm, good enough.”, Jean answered as he opened the bag to take the wine bottle. When Hannah offered a bottle, Jean held up his hand. “No, we’re good here.”

Jack asked for a bottle, to which Ivan shook his head disagreeingly. “Na-ah-uh, not until you’re 18, comrade.”, he said as took the bottle of red wine and took turns with Jean to drink from it. It sure had little alcoholic content though...

[Endem]

Jack Gill
Did somebody call for a doctor?

Suddenly the door once again opened and Jack stepped through, he woke up sooner than Weston and wanted to take a small walk, to his surprise there were more people than he previously walked along with. "Seems like you got yourselves some new friends, sure, I'd like some drink," he remarked as he reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol someone left unattended.

He didn't have a habit of drinking but sometimes there were the days he just needed a bit of it. He took a sip from the bottle of what looked like whiskey of some kind and left the bottle where he found it and looked around the car. His attention quickly had been attracted to the piece of metal lodged into George's leg, "I guess I'll be the one to stitch you up" he said to George as he walked to him and looked at the leg.

"Why did you fiddle with it? I swear people never understand to not take out this stuff, you probably worsened the situation by doing this" Jack the sighed "I hope you disinfected it, gangrene ain't nice" Jack then accessed his bag and took the orange box out of it "Look, the best I can offer right now is to disinfect it and bandage it with the metal still in it, once we get to a safer position, preferably one with better sanitary conditions, we can think about getting that thing out of you and sealing the wound".

He first washed his hands with another bottle of water from his bag, he was starting to run out of those, and then sprayed the wound with a disinfectant that was in the box and then started to bandage it, " Done, now if you excuse me, I'll go wash my hands" he promptly used the remaining water in the bottle to again wash his hands.

[Mercatus]

George thanked Jack for patching up his leg and stopping the bleeding, and he laid his head against the wall. Damn I really hope we have anesthesia when I get that crap removed, and it's gonna be a boring few weeks having to let it heal. The doctor did an exceptionally good job of dressing the hideous wound, and George didn't want to think about the numerous times the doctor might have seen these wounds before. George, seeing Jack Dredd wanting to try alcohol and being declined when he asked for it, offered some whiskey to him. "In these days, everyone needs a little pick-me-up, y'know what I mean?" he said as he passed him a second canteen.

[Lessoni]

George, seeing Jack Dredd wanting to try alcohol and being declined when he asked for it, offered some whiskey to him. "In these days, everyone needs a little pick-me-up, y'know what I mean?" he said as he passed him a second canteen.

Jack Dredd

"Ah, thank you kindly good sir. Not like there's anyone around to enforce underage drinking laws anyway," he said as he took a drink from the bottle. He then promptly realized he didn't like alcohol, as the burning sensation made its way down his throat. Not wanting to look childish, he did his best not to spit it out, but he doubted he didn't look exactly like he felt. Handing the bottle back to George, he reached into his pack for a bottle of water, but decided a red bull would do well enough when he realized he didn't have any.

[Acerbez]

Shenhua,
Subway Car

Stating back on one of the hardened seats with her duffle bag on her lap, she watched and observed Jack walk George through his whole operation and treatment.

She herself was trained and hadn't realized on the walk to the subway car that others behind had been injured. Taking initiative to be the first to go and hopefully inspire the others that staying longer was obviously a horrendous idea. She had reached the car and fell into a deepened cat nap state only to awake seeing Jack cauterize George's wound and somewhat scold him for all she could tell for fidgeting with the large shard.

She leaned back and slightly thumped her head as she slouched. Looking at the others and sighing somewhat relief that everyone seemed to make it. Folks were brandishing their looted drinks and seemingly celebrated, but she decided now wasn't the time.. She left her looted belongings inside her bag and noticed the bag she had taken from Hannah and filled for her.

Sighing again, she set aside her own duffle bag and unzipped it along with hannah's and began divvying up the items she had taken. Leaving a bottle of cognac within hannah's among the other canned and boxed goods she could find.

Once she concluded, Shenhua would silently stand up from her isolation and carried Hannah's bag over to her and plopped it next to the group leader without a word. It wasn't a demeanor of discontent or anything of the like, simply following her obligation and only too happy to pass the weight back to its owner. Carrying both while retreated combined with her tripping meant for tender soles and a sore ass.

Stepping over and past a couple people. She paused in front of Jack and George while glancing at the wound.

"Works good". She stated in her accent and slightly put a lazy thumbs up before slinking back off to sit in solace.

Unfastening her thermace and taking a long drink of her mint tea which was still very warm...

God how she hated this apocalypse.

[Dyelli Beybi]

"I think we can safely say drinking laws no longer apply since there is no Government," Hannah remarked wryly. She stood up, stretching her back, which instantly made her double back over, "Ouch! Urgh... where was I? Oh yes, there isn't even an NYPD or a mayor. If they do show up I'll apologise and say we're lost and isn't this the Belgrade underground?"

He was never a real people person. They just... Didn’t understand how he thought and how he saw the world, and Travis didn’t have the patience to explain it to most of them. Part of why he didn’t mind working with Hannah is she never asked him to. It just worked. “I’d say you owe me a drink for my generator... But I think saving my life might beat all that out.” He says, blabbering a little, “I’m not sure. I- well-“ Travis exhales explosively, the words tying his his tongue. “Thank you, Hannah. For dragging me down the stairs and dropping us both. It was a riveting experience, but it beats dying.”

Argh! Why couldn’t he just say words like regular people? It all came out wrong. This might be the real reason Travis prefers machines to human beings; they don’t talk to him. He can tinker and play with them all day, and not one of them requires he say a word.

As she spoke, Hannah picked her way across the carriage to where Travis was, sitting down next to him before pulling her knees up to her chest, grimacing slightly as she did, "If you are ever in trouble, you can always count on me to do something to help. It's also pretty reliable that I'll injure myself in the process," she smiled, offering him her bottle of whiskey. The label had peeled off at some point in the past, giving no indication of who had made it, but it tasted like only a slight step above garage-distilled moonshine, "You know though, I do still owe you... and everyone who decided to come with me to signal the newcomers rather than running down the tunnels. If you hadn't, I would have taken a dart and there would have been nobody there to carry me out. The Ragons definitely would have got me... which I knew was a possibility before I ran out, but I wasn't about to ask the rest of you to put your lives at risk."

"I think I might know how to get you another pedal generator though," she added turning to Travis, "There's someone I know who probably has the equipment we need to make one. Once you're back on your feet I'll take a trip out that way. She's not the best with strangers so it's probably best I do the talking. Anyone else interested in making a little excursion with me? I can't promise you anything other than my gratitude."

Meanwhile, across the carriage, Rebecca gave a small groan, "Help me sit up... please." Tariq responded immediately, helping the young IDF trooper struggle up into a sitting position. He seemed to have a slightly paternal attitude towards her, "Are we it, Professor? Just the two of us."

He nodded, "I am sorry Windflower, nobody else made it out of the ambush, though some could have run a different way."

She cast her eyes downwards, tears silently trickling down her cheeks, "No, Tariq. They are gone. How many people have we lost since Amman? I have lost count."

"Too many," he put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close, "But we are close now. So close to the end."

"Tariq," she replied, "We still have nearly 2,000 miles to go, with winter closing in, just the two of us now and only the contents of our packs to get us through. Our chances of success are not high."

"Maybe..." he paused in thought before looking up to address assembled people in the carriage, "Assuming for a moment that I'm not crazy and I have a plan, how many of you would be interested in saving the world?"

[Lessoni]

"Maybe..." he paused in thought before looking up to address assembled people in the carriage, "Assuming for a moment that I'm not crazy and I have a plan, how many of you would be interested in saving the world?"

Jack Dredd

Jack perked up at the man's words. He'd always dreamed of being a hero, saving the world, but he dismissed those dreams as on a level of recklessness even he wouldn't go to. Still, if he had someone he could blame other than himself if he failed...

"Not sure there's too much left to save. Still, would be nice to be in a history book," said Jack without much humor. He wasn't getting his hopes up yet, but he was on the verge.

[Mercatus]

George wondered, Me? A savior of humanity? The situation is rather hopeless, but I'm all in if it means not cowering in fear while huddled in a broken city. He asked the man, "And what exactly lies some 2,000 miles away? Some kind of base, the Ragon HQ on Earth? I would love to be a hero, and I'm no coward, but with all due respect sir, we don't have the capability to liberate Earth. We need weapons, vehicles, and most importantly: people. I think, rather than put away the idea, we should prepare better before enacting any sort of plan."

[Endem]

Jack Gill
Not that much to save

Jack chuckled under his nose, "Not sure if there's anything to save, but if more people come with you I'm going along, no way I'm staying in those tunnels" Jack said as he put the first aid kit back into his bag, he then turned to Jack Dredd "And as a Doctor, I recommend you to not drink any alcohol until the age of 25, it could seriously impact your body while it's in development" he then added "the same goes for Red Bull's but that's for a different reason".