Our Darkest Hour (PMT, Semi-Open, ATTN Terestus)

[The Genoese Cromanatum]

Isolated reports of incidents from all around The Genoese Cromanatum had been flooding the emergency call centers all month. Small incidents where people had seemingly lost their minds, attacking their friends and loved ones, and some even committing violent acts of cannibalism. Government response teams had been dispatched to quickly deal with these problems, but as one incident after another continued packing onto the snowball of events that may soon lead to the downfall of humanity itself, the response teams could not eliminate the problem as quickly as it had reappeared.

Things in The Genoese Cromanatum had begun to take a turn for the worse.

Outskirts of The City Of Puritos, Region of Bastion, The Genoese Cromanatum

Vorren Demavend kicked his boots against the edge of his country home's porch, in a feeble attempt to get some of the dried mud off of them. A bit disappointed that his efforts were for nothing, he grunted, figuring he'd just wipe them down later. "Damned rain this time of year." Muttered Demavend, looking at the downpour behind him. The Dead Winter Rains were in full swing, the ominous name had been given to the Genoese rainy season in darker times, where the cold would set in and kill many if they were not prepared. The rains had only gotten worse over the years, what with the rampant corporate pollution of the Genoese landscape. Some even reported incidents of acid rain occuring in Stantson, one of the most factory-populous areas of the nation.

Demavend pulled open the door to his country home, stopping for a moment to glare at the front of his house, possibly checking for anything in need of repair. Demavend's home was older than most, having been built during the days of Jarlov, around fourty years ago, and was not modern-looking in the least on the outside. His home still had character, and feeling, rather than the grey, mass apartments that most Genoese citizenry lived in. He took a moment to thank Sanctus Orley for not choosing to live in one of the underground apartment complexes nearby, and stepped in. As Demavend pulled off his boots, he noticed there was luggage strewn about the entryway, and the faint glow of an opened datapad that sat ontop of one of the bags caught his eye. He approached it, noticing that it had belonged to his wife, he smiled. "Back from business, she is." Demavend said to himself.

He closed the datapad, laying it back onto the bag and proceeding to walk down the hall. The faint muttering of news from a telescreen in the living room echoed throughout the home, and Demavend became a slight bit worried. He noticed that no lights in the house had been turned on other than that of the light in the entry hall, and that there was a spilled bottle of pain killers laying on the kitchen table. "Klara?" He called out, looking for his wife. In response, he heard a faint, strained shout from upstairs. Panicked, thinking his wife had been hurt, he rushed to the second floor of the home, where he found the housekeeper.

The scene was horrid, the housekeeper lay against the wall, hunched over and convulsing like a hurt dog in a puddle of his own blood. The housekeeper was an immigrant, from the northern country Clovenia, and had come to The Cromanatum like many others had, smuggled on a ship, and looking for plentiful work and high-pay in the land of plenty. The housekeeper had muttered several words to Demavend as Demavend dialed the number for emergency services, the only discernable ones being: "Don't open the bathroom door.", and other words, prayers about the Clovenni creator and destroyer.

Demavend nodded to the housekeeper, attempting to keep him conscious. Demavend's efforts were for naught, however, and the housekeeper quickly lost consciousness from his loss of blood. After the emergency services line promised him an ambulance, he heard another odd noise: a crash from the bathroom. He warily walked into the master bedroom, seeing many of his wife's clothes strewn about the floor. He was struck for a moment, thinking that perhaps the housekeeper had tried something funny with his wife, and his wife had shot the man, however that was not the case. Demavend found the pistol he kept un-moved, and was startled as loud banging rang out from the bathroom, the door being slammed against as if someone had placed a wild ox within.

He pulled back the hammer of the pistol, holding it close, and warily approaching the door of the bathroom, stepping on something and looking down, noticing his wife's passport. He picked up the passport, looking at the photo of his wife Klara, seeing that she had traveled to several countries on business earlier. The banging came from the bathroom again, this time one of the hinges on the door bent, alerting Demavend even moreso to what was going on. He heard an odd snarling of sorts as he came to the door, animalistic growls and low moans coming from within. "K.. Klara?" Said Demavend in a low tone, wondering if his wife had been trapped inside. As he spoke, whatever was within the bathroom slammed against the door again, yelping in pain as it impacted the wooden frame of the door.

Demavend noticed that it sounded quite like his wife, if she were to stub her toe or cut herself while cooking, and worriedly began opening the door. As he pulled it open, what he saw was indeed Klara.. or, it was. A gaunt figure, devoid of color and life, spots of her own hair laying on the floor where she had pulled them out. Klara looked up at Demavend, her eyes blank and expressionless, her face covered in blood, and her nose broken, cuts and scratches lining the front of her body which was clothed with torn-at rags. Demavend covered his face as the smell from the bathroom caught him, something like rotting flesh mixed with the canals of Novogenoa. "Klara, whats wrong? Are you sick?" He said, his voice muffled by his hand.

All that Demavend recieved in reply was a low groan from Klara, as she shuffled toward him, Demavend backing up in turn. It was if his wife had been turned into a monster from a storybook, and he couldn't bear to be near her. Then, she leapt at him, tearing at his overcoat wildly, like a deranged animal would tear at a carcass. He kicked her off, shouting her name and telling her: "Stay back! You aren't Klara!"

Klara leapt at Demavend again, this time he moved to the side, and she slammed into the bedroom mirror, leaving blooding shards of glass in her arms. Demavend pointed the gun at her, and she continued to approach, Demavend fumbling and falling down, slouching near the door to the hallway in tears. Again, he told her to stay back, firing the gun once into the air, pointing it at her again. Klara was not stalled, and continued shuffling towards Demavend, the low groan all Demavend could hear before he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger again, shooting her in the chest. And even afterward, the low groan continued.

Klara was unfazed, and continued shuffling towards the man. "Demon.." Muttered Demavend, as he shot at her again, and again, eventually shooting her in the head. She fell to the ground, and Demavend looked at her once more, crying and pulling the cross from his neck, placing it on her chest. And then another groan came. This one was male, however, and the last thing Demavend saw was the approaching figure of his Clovenni housekeeper, before the housekeeper tackled him, tearing into him and rending his flesh.

Things in The Genoese Cromanatum had begun to take a turn for the worse indeed.

[Qeristan]

The Unity has been having their own problems, much like the Genoese people seemed to be going insane attacking and devouring any human within sight. Entire hospitals have been overrun as people have attempted to cure this... whatever it is, making the fatal mistake of letting them outnumber the survivors in enclosed places. Qeristan has banned the products of Whenchem and other Genoese pharmaceutical corporations, directly blaming and condemning the Genoese Cromanatum for the crisis. As the situation gets worse police forces have attempted to quarantine the infected, called 'Demonflesh' by the common citizen, these officers who were poorly funded to begin with were easily overrun forcing the Unity to mobilize it's military to try and stabilize the situation.

Only time will tell if Qeristan's efforts are worthwhile.

Downtown Basma City, Basma Province, Qeristan

The firefight continued for what seemed like hours, Kaliq Bin Lu'ay was watching through the window as the CAF and the TUS exchanged fire while still trying to keep off the hordes of demonflesh, the Unity Shield was easily outnumbered. Kaliq knew that they could not hold, being assaulted on two sides easily outmanned, and he also knew he couldn't trust the CAF to protect him.

In the south in populous areas such as Basma City the situation has only escalated, the Consortium of Aerisanian Freedom has taken advantage of the chaos and is now competing for control of the city as The Unity Shield tries to fight off both the hordes of demonflesh and the terrorist forces. Half the city was TUS controlled, a quarter under the control of the CAF, and the rest overrun with demonflesh, it was only a matter of time until both sides were destroyed or had to work together, the death toll continued to rise and so did the number of walkers.

Kaliq witnessed the last 5 TUS squad retreat down an alleyway before turning back and preparing for his own escape. He lived alone which was good, couldn't let a family member drag him down, he rummaged through his cabinets and the fridge grabbing food and stuffing it in his university bag, picking up a crowbar he owned and prepared to move out.

Kaliq glanced out the window again seeing the CAF were pacifying the last of the demonflesh in the square, it was time to go. He moved the dresser from in front of the door with a grunt and opened the door. He almost screamed a curse as he looked at the bottom of the apartment stairway, a demonflesh was devouring one of the TUS soldiers that had holed up inside his apartment building, it seemed not to notice him.

He started down the stairs one step at the time trying to be as quiet as possible, his steps muffled by the soft soles of his boots, the thing continued at it's eating not turning around to face the newcomer, as Kaliq got up behind it however the demonflesh did turn around as he slipped on the TUS man's blood and fell backwards into the hallway, Kaliq scrabbled backwards on the floor as the demonflesh straightened up, Kaliq himself managed to set himself upright just in time to meet the demon's charge, as the cannibal ran at him, Kaliq smashed it's head with the crowbar with a two handed strike managing to puncture it's skull, but the thing kept coming.

Kaliq cursed loudly and kicked the demonflesh in the chest while ripping his weapon out of it's head, the walker stumbled backwards before charging again. This time, however, Kaliq aimed for it's legs, the monster fell just as he was about to grab one of Kaliq's arms, Kaliq was on him in a second hitting him repeatedly in the head with his crowbar, soon the thing's brains had splattered the walls and his own clothing and flesh.

Kaliq quickly backed off and retched, his breakfast of waffles spilling all over the floor. He would have to get used to this, he knew.

[New Ramrodia]

The lands of Ramrodia, a snowy, mountainous, and god-awfully cold semi-isolationist country; were well aware of the problem, despite very few incidents within their own borders (which were swiftly mopped up by military elements, who had been moved to full alert). The entire army had been mobilized, with all of the reserves being called to defend their homeland - Not against the military machinations of Navorgska, Genoa, or Aurasia, but against the so-called "undead" menace.

Border Guardpost C-468, Sector Sierra, Westwatch, Ramrodia
"Links, Franz, links!" a woman yelled. A man, who was most likely Franz, spun to his left and pulled the trigger of his KM-5 twice, delivering two shots from the high-powered rifle in to a hostile combatant, while the woman who had alerted him quickly decapitated another with her blade. Thankfully, that was the only one that managed to get close enough for close-quarters combat. Franz, Elvira, and their patrol group were unlucky enough to be on a reconnaissance mission outside of the walls when the first masses of zombies were sighted advancing towards Westwatch from Praetoria. Luckily, though, they had managed to get back within spitting distance of the Ramrodian border defenses by the time the undead menace had arrived, allowing them additional fire support from the Ramrodian soldiers who were at that guard post, the numbers of which having seemingly tripled since they departed. While they would've preferred to be fighting from the heavily fortified Ramrodian border installations, the gate controls were locked out by base command until the zombies in the immediate area were dealt with.

"That's seventeen, Dietrich!" yelled the same woman, who was most likely Elvira. "I've still got the lead on you by five!" he replied, reloading his rifle as fast as he possibly could before taking a few more shots. It would've been hard to hear them over the battle cries and firing weapons, but that did not deter them. "Make that seven!" Dietrich interjected. "Hardly! That one was surely dropped by one of the hundreds of soldiers on the wall!" Franz yelled. "We're all about to beaten, here comes the Cavalry!" Elvira said, taking note of the familiar whirring of the engines of a squadron of Rapier gunships. She had figured there were at least 30 of them, more than twice the size of a normal Rapier squadron, but she knew that this was not the time to be thinking of such trivial things. Franz seemed ecstatic at their arrival, especially when the front mounted heavy autocannons spun up. The gunships split up and opened fire, quickly mopping up the remainder of the Zombie forces with their weaponry, and then strafing the corpse field several times to ensure that they were all dead. Once the Rapiers took the field, the remainder of the skirmish took no longer than two minutes.

[The Clovenian Syndicate]

Capital City New Nebelgrad, New Nebelgrad Catacombs - 6:24 P.M. Central Aurasia Time

“Can’t… breathe...”

On my back, wheezing, gasping for air as blood fills my respirator, I desperately try to kick away the monster. One of its hands presses against my chest, another pulls my right arm forward, all the while it bears its horrible teeth. Those eyes, those damned, soulless eyes staring straight into my mind! I want it to stop already! I still hold its head back from biting with my free arm.

“Don’t stare at me like that… demon!”

My muscles strain under its force, yet as if the gods were backing my effort, I kick the beast off into the darkness. My exosuit just reactivated, and despite my exhaustion, its mechanisms give me the necessary strength to roll over. I’m on my knees now; I can’t feel anything but pain and fear. Blood continues its way up my throat as I sputter out curses towards the freak. I can now clearly see the other fiends it tumbled into, all stumbling over one another, slowly approaching me as they moan out those terrible guttural sounds. The Commissar’s orders still echo through my mind, I mutter them slowly to myself, spitting out blood in-between words.

“Do not retreat… do not… allow their escape, defend … the evacuation.”

I sit there staring blankly at the creatures. How could this happen? Have the gods forsaken us? My squad is dead, the innocent are dying in the streets, and I don’t even know if my family is safe. My mind slowly goes blank as my body numbs. I see a light… I see my daughter, playing in the wheat field of the old farm. She dances around, her little pink jacket highlighted among the freshly fallen snow.

“Papa! Papa come play with me!”

I’m sitting on the porch listening to radio as it plays an older song. The song is Katyusha, one of my favorites. I named my daughter after this song.

“Papa look! I made a snow angel! Papa?”

Something doesn’t seem right. I feel dread, and the air is so thick I can barely breathe. I can hear something through the words of the song, some sort of, moaning?

“Papa what is wrong? Pap-“

I suddenly see multiple bloodstained claws pull my daughter into the field! She kicks and screams as I dash forward, crying her name!

“KATYA!”

In the field I see the bodies of my friends, my family, even my own wife. They are torn to pieces yet their menacing faces seem to scream at me! I cannot help them, I must find my daughter first, I must find my Katya! The sky is red and their moaning doesn’t stop, my vision is clouded, I'm struggling for air, but I still hear my daughter screaming for me! Soon I come across a clearing in the field, I can hear a faint whisper.

“Papa, help me...”

There I see them holding my daughter, her little pink jacket torn and bloodstained. She just stands there, and so do they. Something is horribly wrong; her eyes are completely hollow, completely soulless... She speaks to me in a growl-like gargle, as if she’s talking through her own blood.

“Papa… Why didn’t you save me Papa?”

I stand in absolute horror, stunned by the demonic voice coming out of my daughter’s mouth.

“Why did you let them escape the tunnels Papa? Why Papa, do you hate me? Papa?”

Reality clicks back in, but control does not. Tears and blood cloud may be clouding my vision, but I can plainly see what’s occurring. Like watching a movie, my body brings its fists to the horrid faces surrounding me. I hear myself screaming my daughter’s name, over and over again, as I continually swing and kick without any self-control. When I feel claws tearing at my legs, my body brings them up and stomps. If I feel hands grip my arms, my body twists theirs and breaks them. A force against my chest results in my body tackling one to the floor. And if I feel them choke me, my body brings my steel helmet to their unprotected skulls. For what seems like an eternity this bloody cycle continues, until all around me are the bodies of a dozen or so monsters. I kneel in a pool of blood, still gasping out my daughter’s name.

“Kat…ya.”

I feel a sharp pinch on my right arm, underneath the steel device which sits on my wrist. My H.U.D. flickers to life, its orange glow illuminating the inside of my gory mask. I hear the cold voice of a computerized female.

“Physical evaluation: Multiple cuts and bruises detected, injecting combat steroids and coagulants. Psychological evaluation: Severe mental instability detected, injecting anxiety controllers. Warning! Anxiety control fluid at zero percent, seek immediate medical attention. Overall user integrity compromised, emergency situational evaluation initiated. Please stand-by.”

I’m standing, that is a plus, and I’m looking around me. I can somewhat see my surroundings, my night vision is utilizing the faint red glow of the emergency lights. These tunnels are old, with stone sarcophagi housing the dead embedded in the walls. I see their names carved into the steel plates, inlaid in each sarcophagus. I want to die and be put to rest, not turned into one of those monsters! My thought is interrupted by the computer starting its evaluation.

“System evaluation: Armor integrity at seventy-eight percent. Exoskeleton integrity at eighty-two percent. Electronic mechanism integrity at sixty-five percent. Overall system integrity unstable, eventual repairs required.”

Stone pillars covered in blood hold up these old tunnels. I can go two directions, forward into the unknown, or back into the nightmare.

“Power supply functioning on optimal range. Combat fluid supply at thirty percent, seek immediate resupply of all combat fluids.”

I’m completely exhausted, I want to throw up. I don’t know whether my body took control of my survival instincts, or if the intelligent systems of my armor did. I don’t know where I am in the Catacombs, I don’t even know if Command is still alive. However, I know I can never face my daughter again if I run away from this battle.

“Squad evaluation: One, squad leader, deceased. Two, pioneer, deceased. Three, combat medic, current user. Four, grenadier, deceased. Five, jaeger, deceased. Six, reconnaissance, connection unavailable, assumed missing. Seven, machine gunner, deceased. Eight, communications, deceased. Nine, special weapons, deceased. Ten, vehicular operator, severe system damage detected, user physical state cannot be determined, assumed deceased. Overall squad integrity is at ten percent.”

Basically, my squad is dead.

“Mission objective status: Incomplete. Warning! Unidentified organic objects moving towards user! Express extreme caution, engagement rules are fire at will!”

Do I even have a rifle? No? But I can find one… I seem to have a knife however, one I didn't notice in my mindless rage. Gods, give me strength.

[The Genoese Cromanatum]

City of Novogenoa, Region of Novogenoa, The Genoese Cromanatum.

"Damn it all." Muttered a man, hunched behind several refuse bins in an alleyway. All throughout the city, all that could be heard was the screaming and shouting of wild men, rioters, and the horrid shrieks of the undead fiends ravaging the city. He fidgeting around with a magazine of ammunition, finally placing it in his pistol and pulling back the slide. In a city of thirty six million, you could trust noone, that being even more prevalent now. An explosion rocked the city block he was on, probably a car veering off a highway, or crashing. He knew he had to get to the Militant district. In his head, he put together a plan. Get his gun, find a car, and go to the Militant district. "The Militant district would be safe, right?" He thought to himself, remembering all of the massive fortifications and military facilities within the district itself. He warily stepped out of his cover, looking around, both ends of the street he was on were abandoned.

He heard someone call out his name.

"Yorrey?" said the faint name, catching his attention. Yorrey turned, seeing his neighbor, Aeyon. Relieved to see a friendly face, he ran over to him. "Orley's blood, Aeyon. I thought you might have gone mad like the rest of the fools in this town." said Yorrey, hugging the man. Aeyon nodded. "I have no idea whats going on, even the news screens are saying to get out of the city. I hear the Imperator himself has jumped ship, went somewhere out of country. Where are you headed?" replied Aeyon, a bit shakily. "Militant, up in the second tier of the city." Said Yorrey, pointing off into the distance at the Apokalypsis military base, one of the three that were placed in the Militant district.

"For the evacuation, then? I hear thats what they've been doing up in Militant." Said Aeyon in reply. Yorrey shook his head, having not known, and after some more brief conversation, the two hurried over to a nearby vehicle. Yorrey checked if anyone was around, before bashing in the window on the drivers side, unlocking the door and getting in, Aeyon getting in the passenger's seat. They revved the engine of the car, pulling out of the parking space and making their way onto some back streets, avoiding the horrifying hordes of droning, shrieking monsters that had crowded the highways.

As they drove, they saw what the city had really become. Smoke ploomed up from all around, fires raging in some parts of the cities, people actively killing eachother in the streets. You could barely discern who was normal, and who was undead. Anarchy had completely descended upon the city, and likewise, most of the nation itself. They saw people being mauled to death while still in their cars on the side of the road, those unlucky enough to survive crashes, as well as people being devoured in the street itself. The scene was almost unreal, like that of a horror movie. They were shocked back to life soon after, however, when their car smashed into one of the undead, crushing it's head and leaving a long trail of blood behind them.

Eventually they had made it to a road that lead into Militant district, and one thing that they could hear clearly over the chaos that was Novogenoa was gunfire. Lots, and lots of gunfire. It rang out like raindrops, and as they approached, they could see why. A mixture of chaotic citizens attempting to get into the district for the rumored evacuation, and the undead themselves surrounded the gate into the district, and the guards protecting the gate were being overwhelmed. A massive VG-Global Defender turret had aimed toward the crowd, but was not firing, whereas machinegun turrets and anti-air turrets were pouring rounds into the crowd in an attempt to clear the influx of undead, killing many citizens in the process.

Then, it happened.

It happened so fast, and what happened was so unreal, that it took Yorrey and Aeyon several moments to process what was going on. A military gunship, covered in the undead, careened into the crowd, the blades chopping everything infront of them into bits, a massive cloud of red mist covering the gunship as it continued careening forward, eventually crashing into the gate into the Militant district, exploding and killing many of the guardsmen watching the gate itself.

The two men came back to their senses, attempting to back up and get the absolute hell out of dodge, however their efforts were for naught. Inbetween the time they had jumped on the highway exit into Militant, a large amount of the undead had gathered behind them, forcing them to go on the hectic highways. As they slowly began to edge along the side of the highway, they were forced to speed up to keep out of the piles of the undead that were mauling other human beings. They continued along the highway, dodging human and demon alike, trying to keep on the highway itself as the chaos of novogenoa's downfall continued to unfold around them. They slowed as they approached a massive crowd on the highway, all of them undead, attempting to cross a barricade of military vehicles and get into the higher-tiers of the city, where the rich and important dwell.

They sat for a moment, thinking they had again been blocked from freedom. A heavy dread fell upon them as the realization that they may be trapped on the highway set in, however this realization did not set in for long. Several Genoese gunships flew by, launching dozens of rocket barrages at the crowd, disabling many of the corpses and leaving them simple torsos, or strewn bits and pieces along the ground, some of the men at the military barricade noticing the car and waving them over.

Yorrey and Aeyon drove up to the barricade, stepping out of the car and watching themselves for anklebiters. They looked at the carnage horrified, and they were not alone. Several of the men manning the barricade vomitted, having to take off their H.U.D helmets to do so. They didn't need the helmets anyways, all they could hear over the radio systems were the screams of dying men and commands to hold their ground while the upper tiers were evacuated. Then, a man approached them.

"I am Starshina Kerrovic, Civil Service division, Novogenoa Defense Forces. Can you men hold a gun?"

Yorrey and Aeyon shakily nodded.

"Good." Said the man, pulling several rifles from some of the piled up corpses of soldiers that had been infected. One thing was the same about theses soldiers, other than the fact they were dead: bullet holes in their visors. "Point, shoot them in the head or drop them any way you can. If they're living, probably do the same. Welcome to the army, boys."

[The Genoese Cromanatum]

City of Novogenoa, Region of Novogenoa, The Genoese Cromanatum.

"Yorrey.. how many people have we.. y'know.. killed, today?" Said Aeyon, caughing and looking around for a spare magazine of ammunition. Yorrey caughed as well, wiping some soot from his face, glaring up into the clouded skies, covered in darkness, the only light in the city being that of the raging fires. "We've killed noone.. those.. those aren't people." Replied Yorrey.

Yorrey and Aeyon had fought for hours. The military guardsmen at the barricade had forced them to help them hold off the hordes, however they quickly failed. Within the first several hours, the hordes only got bigger, and continued air support from Militant was less and less frequent, the Horde eventually overrunning the barricade. Only Yorrey, Aeyon, and a few others were left now. They were forced to fall back into the beginning of the Electoral district, and the hordes were pouring into the upper etchelons of the city. The growls, groans, and shrieks of the undead soon began to drown out the screams of the living.

"It's folley to try and make it to Militant now, ain't it? I bet there's no way." Muttered Aeyon, finally loading another magazine into his rifle. "We've but to try, my friend. It's our only way out of here." Replied Yorrey, shaking his head. The rumble of the nearby military transport vehicle that some of the men from the barricade had finally gotten started filled the air, and Yorrey, Aeyon, and the several remaining military personnel all boarded. The vehicle sped along the streets of the Electoral district, avoiding large masses of the undead where they could. Earlier, they had watched a few of the more fierce monsters tackle a sports utility vehicle, causing the driver to veer into a gas station, a large explosion ensuing afterward. They did not want to face the same fate.

A half hour of driving the empty streets had passed, and they crossed over into the Electoral Plaza, the area where all of The Cromanatum's government officials dwelled. All that remained were burning buildings, destroyed military barricades, and corpses. The Governmental Delegations Building, standing tall and proud, was now just a husk, the glass windows lining it having been blown out by a massive explosion that occurred nearby, the GDB now seemingly nude. It would seem an eternity before they had arrived to one of the military entrances into Militant, which was seemingly clear.

One of the military personnel in the transport opened it with is datapad, the massive gate inlet into one of the city's many dividing walls opening with a slow creak. As they entered the military highway; A road within the walls themselves, all they could hear was the echo of gunfire, perhaps from fighting inside or outside the tunnels. Had they more ammunition, perhaps they could have saved those in the nearby firefight, but fate would not have it be so. They carried on, opening another gate, and entering the Militant District, which had seen a great deal less damage than the rest of the city. Several military gunships flew by, indicating that there was still some sort of presence within the district.

"Look, Dragonflies. We might have hope after all.." Muttered Yorrey.

However, hope was far from what they found at the walls of the Apokalypsis military base. Men firing hundreds of rounds of ammunition into the crowds of piling corpses below, dumping gallons of burning gasolene on them, even using outdated flamethrowers; anything to keep them at bay. Anti-Air turrets belting chains of 40mm cannon fire into piles of the undead made for a disgusting scene, the carnage more intense than anything that they could have expected. Thermobaric missiles, fancy A.F.T.E.R Rockets, nothing would kill them, only disable them. Fighting the undead had become a mixture of shooting the enemy in the brain, and cutting them down until they could no longer move.

During a low point in the influx of the undead, the men within the Apokalypsis base were able to open a small military entrance for Yorrey, Aeyon, and the military personnel to get through. Leaving the transport behind, they made their way into the base, where they soon had learned why they were stalling the enemy for as long as they could. Several massive Dragonfly X2 transports were strewn about, preparing themselves for flight. A Ryadovoy, someone who had actually just been recruited that day, much like Yorrey and Aeyon, came to the group and spoke to them.

"I'm Ryadovoy Yan Weitzner, glad to see some new blood like myself around." Spoke the man, with an odd, cheery tone. "They're evacuating everyone who made it to Apokalypsis.. or, who're left of us, that is. They're going to detonate the reactors below Militant and Research, and scrap Novogenoa as a whole. Never thought you'd see the day, eh?" He continued, this time a bit more worried.

"I'm Ryadovoy Yorrey Orlovic, this is Ryadovoy Aeyon Barthol. We've seen hell, my friend." Spoke Yorrey, a bit relieved that the man wasn't as grim as most. A slight bit of optimism was better than everything he had seen today. The loudspeakers around the base rang out; "Evacuation Procedures Activate, grab your gear and get to the transports."

Yorrey, Aeyon, Weitzner, and the other men from the group all boarded the same transport, with around forty other men. It was quite crowded, the transport being loaded down with massive amounts of supplies. Noone knew where they were headed, but they all had to say goodbye to home, for this was the last time the living would see Novogenoa, before it was destroyed. The once proud city, the pearl of the world as it was called, now reduced to smoke, fire, and corpses, and soon rubble.