Wasteland Honey ((Zombie RP)) ACCEPTING

[Credimus Somnis]

Ophelia's dreams were simple, but pleasant most the times. Currently, she had a dark dream, a dream made up of only sound. She heard wonderfully put together chords of a guitar. They were mellow, something you could adjust your breathing to, something to calm someone down. That's exactly what people needed in the dilemma the world was facing currently. That being the people who were left. The wonderful song she had been dreaming came to a close, and her dark brown eyes opened slowly. She laid there on her bunk for a few blissful moments, thinking over the chords in her dream before sitting up quickly. She got up from her bed and grabbed her suitcase which included all her belongings that meant anything. She wrote down the chords as fast as she could in her notebook; knowing she'd play the song later, she would be able to hear the beautiful song again.

A sudden jerk caught her off balance and her half clothed body hit the floor. She was on a train, on her way to some sort of civilization she had heard rumors about. Though the source was nothing but a man dying on the side of the road; who had heard about it from another, she knew that it was pretty much her only hope. Living up in the mountains had started looking bleak, considering the risk of drinking the river water. Many times she had gotten sick from it, nursing herself back to health with nothing at her side other than pure luck. She had spent the last few months trying to find civilization that was made of people rather than angry, flesh hungry zombies. No luck so far.

She heard the name of the town was New Hope, though she wasn't going to be too sure about the validity of the name until she arrived. The heat, even inside of the train was near unbearable. Wasn't it supposed to be winter for Christ sakes? But despite the heat, she started getting dressed anyways; putting on a brown corset top, some thin black leather pants, and her favorite brown boots with vintage knobs on them. She put her colt 45 pistol in her holster on her belt, her fingers grazing lightly against the star that was engraved into the surface.

A light smile touched her lips. She knew she was nearing the town of New Hope. The next stop was about five miles from it, but she was willing to walk, and more than willing to kick some zombie a** on her way. She was rather cold hearted about the bastards. Yes, she knew they were people once too, but now they contained no real sense of humanity. No generosity, no caring. They killed her mother, and she still regretted to that very day that she didn't protect her own mother when she needed protection the most. Now she'd shoot every zombie on sight, and make sure to double tap as well. That or she'd take her Katina and slice them up.

Ophelia couldn't decide what kind of mood she was in today, she was feeling as if she were in her bleak personality at the thought of the travel, but her cheery one at the very thought of having human contact once more. That is, if there was even anyone there, the rumors could have been truly nothing but rumors. It was possible. But if there was anyone there, she wondered if they'd accept her. Though she acted as if she could care less what people think, she strived greatly for acceptance.

The train slowed to a stop. She quickly picked up her guitar and slung it on her back, taking her Katina and slinging it on the other side, making the two cross. Her hand reached down for her Winchester shotgun, the other reaching down for her suitcase filled with nothing but clothes, ammo, and notebooks for music. Ophelia then got off the train, and watched it turn away from her, going back to the station where it'd pick up a few more survivors, hoping to reach some sort of civilization. The sun beat down on her, sweat already beading on her forehead as she started walking. This was definitely a flat land. She could see five miles ahead of her, a cluster of makeshift buildings. That cluster of buildings would hopefully serve as her new home.

After about a half hour of walking, she got knocked down. A zombie came at her from behind, trying to bite her in the process. Luckily, the barrel of her gun hit the b*****d as she went down, giving her a moment to get back up while it was stunned. She grimaced at the huge gash on the side of its head before shooting a bullet into it. Then another. Then Ophelia turned her back again, and started walking towards the town. The fall had actually given her quite a few minor injuries, such as how her cheek was bleeding a great amount of blood, leaving a path of small drips on the ground behind her. Her upper arm had been gashed open by a rock, and she felt the blood trickle down her arm, mingling with sweat that made it burn.

She knew that minor injuries such as this could end badly; really badly, if it gets infected. Ophelia just hoped there was a medic at New Hope. A medic, some whiskey, and hell maybe even someone to fool around with.

Not that much later, she arrived. Ophelia wondered if the rumors of that water filter was true, because she really needed it. She was panting by the time she arrived, on the verge of fainting from dehydration. She saw some man seeming to be guarding something, hunched over and resting on his knee. "Hello mister.. Do you have any water? You see I've come a long way without it.." He looked her over, probably wondering if she's infected. He pondered the thought for a few seconds, then said, "Yes we've got some water.." He then walked into the shed he had been standing outside of, bringing out a glass to her. She mustered up quite a few 'thank yous' and gulped down the valuable liquid.

"Thank you again... Thank you so much... I have another question?" The man looked at her skeptically. "Is there a medic by any chance? I took a really nasty fall on the way here and I'm afraid of getting an infection." The man's eyes widened. "Not the infection?!" Ophelia shook her head. He pointed towards a shack that she could partially see into. A bar? She didn't bother to ask why the medic would be in there, but she walked towards it anyways. Maybe she had an overly drunk patient she was trying to take care of or something. While she waited for assistance, she could get a few drinks herself.

She sat on one of the makeshift chairs at the bar table as she eyed the collections of liquor on the shelves. "Can I get a shot of whiskey, and a few napkins or something of the sort?" The man behind the counter nodded and got her what she asked, and with the towel he gave her, she wiped the blood off her arms and her face, shortly thereafter downing her shot of whiskey and enjoying the warm burning sensation it gave.

oodlesofcatastrophe: sorry my layout is a bit sketchy. I'm trying to fix that. I'm hoping this is a good enough opening post? It's been a while since I've written anything.

 

[Diabolical Deliriums]

Annadeti Dollas - The Slaver

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❁ ʟɛƭ'ʂ ɠɛƭ σɳɛ ƭɧɨɳɠ ʂƭɑɨɠɧƭ...

Annadeti moved slugishly into the bar. It was a small room filled with smoke and then smeel of old hot must. She frown at the place. The bar was a long slinder table that wrapped around a tall slim shelf with odd shaped bottles. She could almost feel the drinks on her tongue. She sniffed the air and licked her lips. The lights at the bar were dimlit and there was old music that played sad and slow on the record player.

She sat on a chair with holes in it and would squeak with every movement she made. Calling to the server, "Can I have one of those blue drinks at the top of this shelf here?" She pointed to the one she wanted and watched as the young man reached up and grabbed the slivery blue bottled drink. He poured it slowly into a short shot glass. "Merci." Her face folded with a face make shift smile.

She sipped slowly at the shot glass. Annadeti scanned the room for there has to be some young men that she could smooth talk into coming back to Shadow Hill with her. They had to be young and strong enough to work. Maybe the server at the bar would like to come down with her. She shrugged and looked across the smog filled room. Chugging back the rest of her drink she asked for another one with a wink.

...ƭɧɨʂ ʀɑɨɳɓσω ɓʊɳɳy ɨʂ ɳσƭ. ❁xx
┘

 

[Vicious Bollocks]

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•Anya •

'The Scavenger' • Volkova •

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Anya made her way to a table in the back, setting her stuff down before nearly laying on the cooler surface. Her cheek pressed against the splintering wood, just thankful to be down for a minute. Her peace was interrupted by a waitress looking down at her. Anya smiled softly, closing her eyes for a split second before slowly pulling her body up, head tilted to the side. "What can I get you?" The girl asked, wiping a bit of sweat from her neck. With a light chuckle Anya shook her head. At least she wasn't the only one suffering in this heating pit of a town. "Wodka, just a half a glass, and top my canteen off vith some vater?" The waitress smiled, nodding and Anya gave her a wink before folding her arms and leaning them on the table. It wasn't so surprising to see everyone gathering inside. It was the only place one could drink their problems away without it costing an arm and a leg. Well, unless they bought from her. A sly smile slipped her lips as she leaned back on her folded arms.

It was the Runner, Kayta, who caught her eye. Sure, she would never admit to it. But there was a certain spark, something that would make her heart start to leap and hammer in her chest, the moment that girl would drop a parcel in her hands and demand to be paid. Lowering her eyes a slight sigh escaped her lips, the glass of vodka being placed in front of her, canteen filled to the brim. Dumping a few coins in the young girl's hand Anya began to slug back the strong, clear fluid that burns every inch of her that it touched. Something to keep her mind on the pain of something but her rude awakening that morning. A slight distaste rose in the back of her throat, spilling over her tongue. Ignoring it she looked down at the glass, nearly shoving her nose into it she was trying to down it as quickly as possible.

It wasn't until the onset of a number of girls who had either bought from her or helped her get the items, that Anya finally put the glass down and got to her feet, licking her lips. Taking her pack with Anya went over to the bar, leaning against it. "Hallo to you." She smiled at Kayta, taking another drink from the glass. She was going to regret it later, on the walk out in all that heat. But for now it made her feel better than any glass of water could. "Did you find my part?" she eyed the girl, licking her lips, trying to savor the strong taste. It was her last job and she really hadn't been able to find a way to the part the man had needed for the purifier. Sure, it was probably going to cost her double what it normally would, but she couldn't honestly complain.

[[Sorry, it sucks really bad. But I couldn't ******** concentrate.]]

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" What does it mean to die after you've lived through the death of your world? "

 

[Skrapz]

Won't stop running, can't stop running...

Kayta watched Anya out of the corner of her eye, refusing to look at her directly. She wanted to give off an impression of resentment towards being just an employee to this woman, but in reality it was the shame of failure that prevented her making eye contact. She looked down at the empty tumbler before her, filled with the last of a third bottle of whiskey she purloined at the motel. Orion was lapping at a bowl of a water/bourbon mixture under her feet. Orion always drank bourbon. The thought made Kayta smile, briefly, before returning to one of the greatest poker faces ever encountered.

”Yeah.” She replied curtly, “I found your product.” She nodded to the bartender, who approached with an old brown beer bottle and a half-full carton of cigarettes. Kayta muttered her thanks and gave her a bottle of Advil from her rucksack, ”For your back.” She explained bluntly, and watched the barkeep sashay away on rather impressive legs. She took a swig of the old stale beer and pulled out one of the cigarettes, ”You mind if I smoke?” She asked, not waiting for an answer. She pulled out her hunting knife and flipped a switch in the hilt. A flicker of flame sprung up and she lit the cig.

Kayta turned her head, finally, to face Anya. From her rucksack she pulled out some spark plugs, a flashlight, a few boxes of cold medicine and low-dose pain relievers of varying brands and strength, assorted computer parts, 3 steak knives, and a square steel contraption that honestly baffled Kayta. ”I went to that nearby looted department store yesterday. It’s been picked clean of food and most medical supplies, not to mention anything that might work as a weapon, but I found a few boxes of stuff in the back on the top of the shelves. I tried a pool supply store and Home Depot too, but I couldn’t find anything that even resembles what you wanted. Then I came across a rather auspicious estate. After scaling a gate and picking two high-quality deadbolts, I found this thing in the rich guy’s pool house. I doubt he’ll miss it, I found him and his trophy wife dead on the floor in the billiard room.”Kayta smirked at the resemblance to the board game Clue. She tapped the strange part in contemplation. ”It matches the sketch you gave me pretty closely, don’t you think?”

She took a puff of her smoldering cigarette and scratched Orion behind the ears. The mutt was getting a bit tipsy, and he rested his head on the supporting beam of the bar stool, whining softly. She absentmindedly caressed her leg injury, making a mental note to see the medic very soon. She downed the last of her beer and took a final puff before extinguishing it on the bar top. ”Now as you have probably guessed, my friend,” Kayta began, ”This little whatever-it-is was not easy to come by. Not to mention it’s as heavy as hell. I demand at least double what you said you’d give me, plus 50% of whatever you make off it.” Kayta stared deep into Anya’s eyes, unblinking. She was a good bluffer, but a terrible haggler; a fact which she hoped wouldn’t show.

Kayta Mirror

 

[Vicious Bollocks]

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•Anya •

'The Scavenger' • Volkova •

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Anya took a seat beside the girl, settling down with her arms folded around the glass on the bar. She didn't even bother to answer the question about smoking. That was a given, plus she never wanted to piss the girl off. She was the only way to get supplies where even Anya couldn't get to. Her eyes stared down at the contraption, all ready summing up the cold hard money in her mind. Enough to maybe, finally, go home. Something to finally leave the crisp, hot hell hole. Running her fingers along the device she smiled softly, resting her chin in the palm of her other hand. It fit perfectly to what the man had asked for. She pulled the spare sketch from her pocket, smoothing it out on the bar with both of her hands. Eying the piece she pulled out a small magnifying glass from one of the pockets on the photographer's vest, doing a double inspection, making sure it would still actually work.

The Runner went off, talking about how heavy it was, and how hard it was to find. Anya raised an eyebrow at her. Putting the magnifying glass away Anya sat up, staring directly into Kayta's eyes as the girl tried to shake her down for all she was worth. A little smile came over her face, knowing that game. Lifting up her glass Anya took a sip of the drink, chuckling under her breath. "Kayta....Kayta....You'll be making more than me if you t'ink I'm dat silly." She began to do some math on the back of the sketch, rubbing her chin. She could probably get a little more out of the man considering the weight and all. That was IF she was to give Kayta what she wanted, and break even. "I'll tell you vhat..." She smiled softly, reaching out and letting her hand brush against the other girl's. "Dis if my last run out 'ere. I vill give you more than I should." She gently patted the back of the girl's hand. She began to dish out the cash for the other girl.

Kayta easily got the full amount Anya had promised her, plus a little more just as a tip for the actual trip of finding the implement. Taking the item from the bar and putting it away into her pack she slowly got to her feet, looking down at the other. "I vill see vhat I can get, no? You shall get 50%. But just because I like you." She winked at the girl before turning and walking out of the bar with the part, her hips swaying the whole time. Leave em wanting more, she might get a better deal when she comes back. Licking her lips Anya made her way towards the actual home of the man who had made the ridiculous order. He had sent more than just one of type out to find the bit, and he probably knew where the only one was.

She didn't ask for an introduction, or even permission to enter his house, she just kicked her way in and tossed the part into his hands. "I vant my money." She said, staring coldly at the man. He stumbled around, aging face looking more confused than anything. "H-how much did we agree on? Um...four thous-" Anya sighed under her breath, walking over and wrapping one arm around his neck, other hand trailing along his chest. "Nyet...Ve agreed six t'ousand...But it vas so heavy...und so hard to find..." She let her chest rub against his as her accent became thicker, more sultry and heavy.

"Maybe...Just a...A bit more? Ya?" The man's eyes were drawn down. Of course. Anya sighed inward but let his and his dirty ******** hands wander. It took about ten minutes of being man handled and slapping on some cheap talk to get him to double the amount, milking him and his stupid head for all he was worth. She left with an even worse feeling in her stomach, but a good amount of money in her pocket. She could have ran, and kept the twelve for herself. After that work she could have decided to be worth it. But it honestly wasn't. Instead she went back to the bar, bursting inside and dumping down back beside Kayta. She pooled six thousand in front of the other girl with a slight wink, masking how sick she felt inside. "Enjoy love." She said, patting the other girl on the back, getting to her feet.

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" What does it mean to die after you've lived through the death of your world? "

 

[Werewolf Liquor]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe Medicxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxmakes house calls

Having made her way down the cracked pavement of sidewalks and asphalt, Alina finally arrived at her destination, the reclaimed strip joint. The buildings around it were either in too much disrepair to fix up, or had just not been necessary to their survival. The only reason why they had even bothered to fix up the strip joint into a bar was mostly because of the men. The guards and construction workers needed to be able to relax, have a beer, and forget about the fact that the minute they set foot outside of the walls of New Hope, they could be brutally killed. Alina opened one of the double doors, stepping out of the sun and in to the dim lighting of the bar. There were only a few men in right now, on their breaks, most taking up seats in front of fans, faces lit up by neon lights. There were quite a number of women in the bar, as well, which wasn't unusual. The only woman Alina cared for at the moment lived in a room behind the stage.

Alina walked over to the bar, leaning over the counter to talk into the ear of one of the two bartender's. There was a man and a woman, for both pleasures, but they both ran the joint. She asked if the local stripper was around, the woman being a patient of Alina's. The man, whom she had spoken to, since the woman was tending to two other patrons, shook his head and then replied. Apparently Melody had taken off with some man last night and hadn't been back in yet. Alina sat down at the bar, sighing to herself, and rubbed one of her temples in frustration. That woman was going to just make matters worse on herself. How was she supposed to help someone that didn't act like they wanted help anymore? The man motioned for a drink, but Alina shook her head no. She wasn't much of a drinker. Instead she just sat there for the moment, elbows propped up on the bar and her head in her hands, just trying to cool off and rethink what she was going to do now.

-------------------------------------------------------

Outside of the city, round the back side of the wall, there was a few people poking around the wall. They had not been spotted by the guards yet, so they toiled away quietly with what they were doing. A black device was mounted to the wall and a button was pressed. It began to emit a beeping sound. The strangers ran away and the wall soon exploded. The city shook with the blast, and through the smoke and debri the strangers rushed in, guns blazing, shooting down anyone that came at them. Most of the townsfolk ran and hid in their houses, but soon they were invaded and those who fought were killed. Those who surrendered were herded to the center of town.

Upon the explosion, Alina's instincts were to duck. She fell off of the stool and into the floor, crouching beside the bar, looking no better than a scared rabbit. In fact, she was sure her heart was pounding just as fast, her eyes darting about to try and figure out what was going on. Struck by fear, she was unable to move, to make a run for it, and soon the men were busting in through the doors of the bar. The guards that had been on their breaks took up their guns, a few too slow, and the others throwing over table to take cover behind. Alina remained frozen, hoping she would just turn invisible to the Raiders. Another explosion shook the bar, closer this time, near the ammunition reserve. Screams and gunfire was all she could hear, and she covered her ears with her hands, closing her eyes shut tightly, knowing very well she needed to evacuate, but too paralyzed to do so.  

[Skrapz]

Won't stop running, can't stop running...

Kayta’s head whipped towards the blast, and watched for two and a half seconds before springing into action. She stuffed her newfound cash into the rucksack and stashed her merchandise alongside it. She jumped from her barstool and shouted at her dog, ”Orion, Camo!” The command sent the mutt flying out of the bar, heading for the nearest doggy-sized shelter. Kayta threw her bag over her shoulders, secured the buckle around her chest, and raced out of the saloon.

Among the mayhem of screaming people and gunfire, Kayta scrambled around the building and down an alley between the bar and a small grocery. She climbed up a stack of empty wooden crates and leapt onto the bar’s rooftop, rolling to a stop before she slipped back down. She dropped to a crouch and peered over the edge of the roof, noticing several unfamiliar men and an array of mutilated bodies that just moments before were drinking, gambling, or sweating up a storm. She jumped to her feet and scurried across an inner wall to another building, where she saw a large circle of rubble in the wall, the wall. For a moment Kayta was stilled. The wall was a symbol of security. Why hadn’t they realized it was so weak and feeble? Recovery from the shock was quick, however, as it had to be.

She knelt down and pulled up her khaki leg and reached for the switchblade holstered in a leather garter belt. She gripped it tight in her hand, trying to still a subtle tremor. She peered over the peak of the roof, and took in the scene before her. Several black-clad men and women, outsiders whom she had never seen before had surrounded a good portion of the New Hope population. Instantly she searched the fearful and furious faces of the hostages, prowling the crowd for familiars and friendlies. Anya and Lenne; two women she felt a certain attachment, a loyalty to. She found herself concerned for their wellbeing, though why she couldn’t quite grasp. They were business partners, nothing more; weren’t they?

She carefully eyed one of the invaders; androgynous from this distance, the stranger stood about five and a half feet tall, with tight black clothing and an impressive and formidable looking gun in his or her hands. She knew very little about guns, but she knew enough to suddenly fear for her life, even from this distance. With no long-range weapons, no form of attack from the rooftops, Kayta’s mind flurried with strategies and possible outcomes. None of them looked too good at this point. If only she had experience in firearms…

Kayta Mirror

quickie post, didn't have much time but wanted to add it quickly.

 

[Vicious Bollocks]

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•Anya •

'The Scavenger' • Volkova •

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Anya gasped, jumping behind the bar as the fighting broke out. She covered her head, hair sticking up through her parted fingers. Bottles shattered all around her, glass falling onto her head and hands, a few pieces cutting her soft skin. When the fighting began to die down, screams filling the air, she made a break for it. Running from the bar towards the back door. People were falling all around her, getting tackled, shot, killed or taken just inches from her.

Hands grabbed at her, trying to pull her into the mess. She fought them off, her pack starting to weigh her poor body down. God dammit, why did this have to happen? She was so close to going home, being as safe as once actually could be. Bursting through the back door she began to run, as fast as she could, away from the fray. She was about a block from the bar when something tackled her from the side. Letting out a yelp she toppled, her face being smashed into the blistering sand.

It was only for a few minutes, her world was black. But her eyes slowly peeled open, the bright day sun slamming into her skull. The side of her face felt dry, taunt, like something sticky was covering her skin. Groaning softly she looked around. Her pack was long gone. Thrown off to the side, being raided for all she was worth. A sick feeling entered her stomach. Swallowing the bile that threatened to spill from her dizzy head she looked around. She was in the center of town, hands and feet tied behind her back, sitting oddly on the ground. Groaning she licked her dry mouth, a taste of copper in the back of her throat. She was bleeding, a cut above her eyebrow, leaking down the side of her face and into her mouth, some dribbling down her chin. Licking the drying flakes of red and brown she felt a shadow fall over her.

Looking up she narrowed her eyes, getting a swift knock across the face, eyes welling up. Her head began to throb, her body beginning to get man handled, turned over, poked and prodded. She felt like cattle. About to be sold to slaughter, but only after checked at every angle for the best meat. She glared up at the figure, raising her head and sending a good amount of spit directly into the eye of the figure. That sent it over edge. Anya was pulled from the others, tossing to the ground, hands pulled at horrifyingly painful angles. Her face was repeatedly smashed into the scorching sand, nose beginning to bloody and spread over the sand, pooling. She coughed, blood leaking from the corners of her blood and sand encrusted lips. Where was Kayta? Did she make it out? Part of Anya prayed for some heroic rescue, even if she was a bit too stubborn for it. An attempt was always welcomed. She spat on the ground, smirking.

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" What does it mean to die after you've lived through the death of your world? "

 

[Diabolical Deliriums]

Annadeti Dollas - The Slaver

┌

❁ ʟɛƭ'ʂ ɠɛƭ σɳɛ ƭɧɨɳɠ ʂƭɑɨɠɧƭ...

Men in all black came rushing into the bar throwing over tables and yellign at people to move out of the bar and follow them. The men and women in the bar were struck with fear and their faces twisted with horror. Annadeti watched the people move in confusion. She swiftly slid over the bar and behind the counter. Unlocking the brass locks on the red gun case she pulled out her gun, placing it on the bar counter. Aiming for the men in black she shot around the running, panicing people. She smirked. "This is nothing."

Annadeti grinned as she shot down three men out of six. The other men spotting her, she frowned then packed her gun back in the red case. "Um...how to get out of here?' She asked out loud. Almost in an instant of looking around the room the men were on her quick. She spotted a hole in the wall, but it seemed a little to slim. Annadeti slid to the hole struggling to squeeze through. But with a blessing made it as the men were rounding the corner. Yanking her case through the hole she smoothly followed the edge of the bar.

Noticing the woman on top of the bar she ran through the allay and climbed on top of the box to the top of the roof. "Hi." she said smiling out of breath. "Who are these guys?" She asked while grabbing her gun out of her red gun case. Annadeti set out her gun and pointed it at the way the men and women were entering the city. Aiming at the heads as they were storming through the open hile in the wall. "Oh yeah!" she said enjoying as their heads were blasted open and they fell sliently, and drunkenly to the ground.

...ƭɧɨʂ ʀɑɨɳɓσω ɓʊɳɳy ɨʂ ɳσƭ. ❁xx
┘

 

[Skrapz]

Won't stop running, can't stop running...

“Holy s**t!” Were the first words to leave the runner’s mouth. Kayta whirled around to face Annadeti, who had managed to sneak up on her undetected and was currently picking off invaders like balloons in a dart-throwing carnival game. Instinctively she flipped the purple blade open, pointing it at her intruder and potential threat. Because of high concentration on the events unfolding below and just plain fear, It took a heartbeat to realize two rather obvious mistakes; one, she was threatening an ally, and two; she was threatening an ally with a gun. She lowered her weapon and nodded sharply at the newest member of her temporary defensive squad, which was up until this point an army of one.

”Mistress Dollas,” she addressed the slaver as Kayta had heard others in town mention her. She had never officially met her face to face before, as this woman’s trade didn’t exactly overlap hers, nor did it intrigue her personal interests as it were. She was genuinely stunned, be it a brief imitation of a deer in the headlines, by her youth, her beauty. The few slavers she had met before were calloused old broads with disgusting habits regarding their dermatological atrocities. Annadeti, obviously, did not meet this stereotype. She absentmindedly stared past her at the parkour path that led up to her makeshift above-ground foxhole. A few jumps and vaults for her, but to many an obstacle course worthy of the formerly prominent Navy SEALS. An impressive feat, she admitted to herself. ”I didn’t know you were so… spry.” She eyed the complicated and recently fired weapon with apprehension and foreign confusion. Guns really, really weren’t her thing.

She peered over the edge of the roof, silently motioning for her company to join her. Once again she scanned the group; cursing men, crying women, sick laughing bastards pointing weapons at unarmed people, and- and…. ”s**t.” She dropped the knife, watching helplessly as it clattered on the tile awning below. The sound seemed to explode beyond reason, shaking the buildings with a tsunami of decibels. Kayta swore to herself and ducked back, her heart beating faster and faster. She whispered to Annadeti, ”Does that gun of yours have a scope or something? Something to zoom in on the group down there? I think we have a problem, regarding a mutual friend of ours.” She pointed down to the hostages, and at a hogtied bundle of human being that, if Kayta’s assumptions were correct, was currently spouting out obscenities in a European accent.

Kayta Mirror

 

[Credimus Somnis]

Looking down into an empty shot glass was disappointing. Especially at that very moment for Ophelia; because she knew she wasn't going to get another drink, even though she needed it. She couldn't afford it; not that the alcohol was expensive, but she hadn't the money due to the fact that she'd been living in the mountains for a couple years where they didn't use currency. A sigh left her pouty lips before her dark brown eyes scanned the bar. There was quite a few people sitting there, drinking and suffering in the terrible heat. Two certain ladies caught her attention, however. A girl with rusty brown hair and a sultry Russian accent, and a young girl smoking a cigarette. She looked in their general direction for a while before looking away.

Her eyes were drawn towards the door as she heard another person enter. It was a female with a small form and jet black hair, and a gun. A small smile etched its way onto Ophelia's lips as she looked back toward the bar table, slightly blushing. It'd had been a while since she'd seen anyone as mentioned before: much less anyone cute. The woman talked in a flirty tone to the bartender, scoring her a free drink. That gave Ophelia the idea to serenade the bartender for a drink, but before she could even get her guitar off her back, guns shot off.

The town was being invaded. A smile spread upon her lips as everyone scattered. Ophelia enjoyed being dangerous, so she continued sitting there and asked for a drink as the bartenders were ducked under the counter hiding. A trembling hand reached up from under the counter, holding a full bottle of whiskey. "just take it..." her voice trembled as the whispered words left her lips. Ophelia took the bottle with no questions. A hand suddenly cupped over her mouth and eyes. She growled and viciously bit the unknown hand to the point of bleeding. The hand pulled away and her elbow went into their gut. She swirled around in her chair and saw the culprit.

A laugh left her lips. "Go to hell." She said before pulling out her colt pistol and shooting him straight in the forehead. Putting her gun back into her holster, she stood up and started walking out the door. She opened her bottle of whiskey and took a long hard gulp of it, the warm, burning sensation tingling down her throat and the edges of her stomach.

She spotted someone in the distance, and instead of being logical like everyone else, Ophelia walked briskly toward them. That run soon became a run as she saw that the one being beat up was that Russian girl from the bar earlier. As she became closer, she fixed her target on the man. She shot him in the spine, paralyzing him from the waist down. She didn't want to kill him, no. She wanted him to suffer and die from dehydration or loss of blood. He fell to the ground beside the woman. Ophelia kneeled beside the woman, seeing the ropes binding her limbs.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pocket knife with which she cut these ropes. "Do you know any safe places to hide? If you take me there I can protect you, of course that is, if you let me." The woman had a stubborn feel to her, was that too much of a judgement of her to make considering she hadn't even officially met her?

oodlesofcatastrophe: Ophelia decided to be the hero for Anya, the question is, will Anya let herself be saved? I thought I'd take the opportunity to get involved since Katya was talking to Annadeti.

 

[Diabolical Deliriums]

Annadeti Dollas - The Slaver

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❁ ʟɛƭ'ʂ ɠɛƭ σɳɛ ƭɧɨɳɠ ʂƭɑɨɠɧƭ...

Smiling, Annadeti reached into her case and tightened on the scope. "Yup." She pointed it down to where the pretty young lady was staring. She could hear a girl speaking with a Russian accent. Annadeti getting ready to shoot the man shouting and picking at her. As she was setting her finger on the trigger another girl took the shot first. Shooting him in the spine he fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. "Someone has nice aim." She grinned then called down to the Russian girl in french. "Hé. Etes-vous bien?" Annadeti yelling to make sure she was ok. The girl with long black hair and perfect green eyes stared up at her nodding. "Ok." Annadeti turned back to look at Kayta.

"They're Raiders." Annadeti watched at the people in black ransacked the houses. They would go into the houses empty handed but come out with handfulls of items that she assumed had some pitiful value. Annadeti thought raiders were useless. They were scum that picked on different towns because they were to lazy to make their own way. So they steal from other people who have worked their asses off to get what they have. Her anger for these people built up, all she wanted was to stop this. But from what see was looking at their were lots of them. Raiders always ride in big packs.

...ƭɧɨʂ ʀɑɨɳɓσω ɓʊɳɳy ɨʂ ɳσƭ. ❁xx
┘

(( I changed my post. Sorry it's so short. Writers block.))

 

[Rianoc]

Sands toiled and whipped across the unmerciful desert, creating intricate aerial designs against the emotionless blue sky. The heat boiled the earth's dead and decaying surface, with the winds as an aid to spread the incalescence that seemed to now plague the entire northern hemisphere. Everything had fell out of balance and decided to die with the rest of the world, besides the small handful of wildlife and humanity that fought to survive in this newly found treacherous terrene. The high rise of the sun marked the start of the hottest part of the day, where even shadows fled from it's baking oppression. All but one.

A figure crouched against an obscure motorcycle took refuge under the towering vehicle, trying to evade the sun's heavy rays as it used another device to spy on the events that were happening a few hundred yards away. Long sandy trench coat tails trailed with the winds as they dragged and pulled them, fighting to yank the coat free of the unsuspecting onlooker. Pulling out her last bottle of water, Rae disengaged her sights for the moment to wipe away the sweat that had collected above her goggles. The shine of those bright blue eyes were held prisoner under the orange discoloration of the lenses that protected them. The goggles connected with a tawny, unruly head of cinnamon spiky hair that swayed with the gusts, tossing the longer strands that dangled in front of the goggles like palm trees in a hurricane. The lower half of her face was covered by a mask-like crimson scarf, mainly as a precaution against wind burn and to keep the sand from getting in her nose and mouth as she traveled. The scarf trailed down and fell limp against a white button-up shirt that hung open at her chest and where her midriff was, the collar popped up around her neck on one side.

Reposition herself to keep her feet from falling asleep, she recovered her views on the situation that was unfolding, her curiosity urging her to find out what was going on. 'I've always got the distraction simbots..' If something did go awry, they were remotely controlled to create a distraction, and a hefty one at that. She relied on them quite a bit for a quick and painless getaway. 'Then again, when have I not relied on technology to solve my problems..' She rolled her eyes at the thought, surveying the scene one last time before making her decision. Either way she sliced it, she needed more water. This town was where she was going to get it. If it took some outsmarting and a bit of a fight, she was ready for it. She had survived this long, she wasn't ready to give up just yet.

Pulling out a small shoe box from the large bag that slumped across the bike's back end, she opened it to reveal something that took the resemblance of a child's RC car with a small monitor attached to the back of it. She was starting to gratefully thank the gods that she had grabbed all those GPS's when the s**t hit the fan. Carefully poking in the coordinates of that small mob that had gathered in the middle of town, she did a final check of the wiring and switches before slipping a nitrogen cartridge into the battery compartment, next to the home made smoke bombs that decorated the exterior, controlled by a detonator located on a small remote that dangled from her necklace. It had used to be a key fob from her late father's 2002 Mustang, a car he and she had taken apart and rebuilt together. One final check of the solar battery led to the ignition of the toy in disguise, and it began zooming across the flat rugged terrain at no less than thirty miles per hour, the nitrogen serving it's purpose. She'd supposed it was only as an extreme in case things got out of hand, but it looked like things were already quickly falling apart from where she was standing. 'Hopefully, a distraction is just what they need..'

Ascending her bike, she hit the push-to-start button as a computer displayed the solar battery life, speed, rpm, temperature, wind speed, and other readings. She took one last look at the Wasteland, then turned towards the town and followed her tiny surprise on wheels, a sense of adrenaline and uncertainty swelling up inside her. 'What am I getting myself into now..'  

[Vicious Bollocks]

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•Anya •

'The Scavenger' • Volkova •

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The man had his grimy hands on either side of her face, compressing her head. Sweat leaked down her neck, the veins and muscles showing the tension as she tried to fight back. She glared up at him, about to bite for her life, when something pegged him in the back. A spurt of blood went up, his eyes widened and his grip loosened. She took her chance, head butting him in the chest and shoving him over. It collapsed in a heap of dust and writhing. Her skull felt like it was going to beat out of her skin. The world was a tad blurry, a copper taste in the back of her throat. She didn't grasp hold of reality until someone was cutting her binds. Looking up she closed one eye, the sun far too bright, and smiled. "Vell...Ophelia, dah?" she chuckled, pulling her arms in front of her, a bright red wave of embarrassment coming over her. Well wasn't she just the damsel in distress? It was only made worse by some woman screaming in French at her. Simply nodding her head Anya got to her feet, rubbing her wrists.

Her eyes scanned the sand for the undeniable lump of s**t that she usually carried with her. Tilting her head she walked from the Sharpshooter, more than a bit butt hurt she actually had to be saved. She scurried over to a lump in the sand, pushing and pulling it until the object exposed itself. Digging through the pack she began pulling out one weapon after the next, and a few smaller items. After a few minutes she stood up, stripped down to her tank top, boots and pants. Only a mask covered her lower face. Strapped to her back was a folding shovel and one crowbar. On her hip was a trench knife, and the other crowbar stashed in her hand. Glancing at Ophelia Anya gave her a little two finger salute before slipping off into an alley, keeping her pack hidden in the dust.

Sticking to the shadows of the buildings she made her way through the town, avoiding the roving packs of raiders. She stopped at only a small group of four, busying themselves with the bodies of a few innocents. Narrowing her eyes Anya crept from her space, low to the ground. She slipped the other crowbar from her back, standing up. She twirled the items in both her hands, picking up speed until it was a full out run towards the scum bags. About a foot away, one turned his head, the crow bar slamming across the side of his face, dropping him like a bleeding sack of potatoes.

The other jumped up, scrambling for their weapons. She switched the bar ends to the curved bit, swinging them parallel, crushing one girl's side in. She repeatedly beat the girl's head in, the mush splattering over the sand, dying it all a sickly crimson color. She turned to go after the other two when the click of a gun made her stop. The two men shoved a pistols and a rifle in her face, ready to pull the triggers. "DROP IT!" One screamed, arms shaking. She eyed him for a moment before tossing her crowbars to the side. The other scooted over, grabbing them and putting them farther from her reach. "Down, get down!" The same man screamed, motioning for her to get to her knees. She left out a small sigh, acting like she was heading down. Her hands lowered before suddenly her fingers gripped the Trench knife.

In the blink of an eye she had tossed it at the man, sprung back up, ripping the shovel off her back. It unfolded it a wrist flick. As the man turned from the knife, letting it embed in his shoulder she swung, putting the edge to the other's face. A resounding clunk and splatter sent him to the ground. It had embedded in his skin, making her work to get it out. As she struggled the man with the pistol turned, glaring at her. He raised it once more. Snarling loudly she ripped the shovel out and slammed it against his shoulder, pushing the knife in even deeper. He writhed in pain, trying to pull the object from his bones. With a near animal cry Anya brought the shovel down on his head, again and again, a spray of his brain matter hitting her body. War paint.

============== ━╃ ╄━ ==============

" What does it mean to die after you've lived through the death of your world? "

 

[Werewolf Liquor]

In the midst of the fray between the townsfolk and the raiders, a man burst forth from the building the Filter had been constructed in. He was bruised, bloodied, and wearing a white smock that was now stained red. He scrambled down the catwalks and aquaducts the townsfolk had built, trying to escape, all the while crying out, "BOMB! They've planted a bomb on the filter! Run! Get out of town!"

That is, until his cried were cut short by the sound of a shotgun. He fell over the railing, his body smacking on the broken asphalt below, a crimson tide pooling out beneath his mangled form.

The voices of the townsfolk erupted into utter mayhem as they forgot their raider woes and made for the nearest exits. Meanwhile, the raiders were packing up their stolen goods and prisoners and making out the way they had come in.