Chapter 1: Everybody Fights for Something

[Swoob]

Everybody Fights for Something​

One more time, the sun rises. Warm light begins to stretch itself over a hollow world too cold to enjoy it. As it creeps over the hills and struggles to hop over the tops of old, ruined buildings, people's hearts and actions are laid bare before it. Somewhere, the golden hue is drizzled into a blood-soaked patch of dirt with shattered bones and broken teeth lying still next to it. Somewhere, a man who's been walking for so many days looks up, squints, and adds another mark on the cover of his flask, the same as always. The same as always.

One more time, the sun rises. The days go on and on and don't ever stop. In this sick and dying world, the two last peoples on earth engage in a war. And the world knows it all too well, ravaged now and ravaged before. Many will lose their lives today. Many will lose even more.

But despite it all, one more time, the sun rises.

In the two camps of the Tower Organization and the Scavengers, a most peculiar event has occurred. A journal has appeared on both their doorsteps, but its peculiarity lies in its similarity. More than similarity, in fact—it is the same exact journal, written once, and appearing twice. As the morning rituals around the world begin, two leaders place their hands on the same dusty journal and wipe it off to read the same name on its cover: Adam Stoll.

MARCUS​

"No. Revealing it to the public is out of the question. Many people will be... greatly disturbed by what's written in here. And the fact that nobody here is named Adam Stoll will cause mass hysteria."

"Agreed. So the only two options are keeping it or giving it to Grosvenor."

"I reject the idea of giving it to that man. Anything we give to the Peacekeepers is just putting it right in between us and putting an end this goddamn war."

"But at the same time, don't you think that Grosvenor could gain more information from it than we could? He has a knack for things like this."

"If there's anything in there that would help us, he'd withhold the information and use the rest to boost his own political agenda."

"However, if we keep it to ourselves and word got out, we would instantly lose favor with the people. The whole power system might collapse."

It was very noisy in the Committee of Seven, and Marcus was suffering from a headache. What Marcus was really suffering from was a book. At first, the book may seem simple, but its near-700 pages were filled with a cryptic but chilling tale of an "Adam Stoll's" life gone horribly awry. The man had made references to the Scavengers in his saner pages, but by the halfway point, he had started to lose his mind. However, they believed that, upon further examination, they may be able to obtain information beneficial to them. Therefore, this entire debate rode on a hunch, and that hunch rode on a book.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. "The answer should be simple. We keep the book for now and don't tell anyone anything. If—and I mean if—Grosvenor were to find out, all we need to do is explain to him how we didn't believe it was important enough to tell the citizens. And that would be an easy lie to tell, since we don't even know whether it's a lie yet."

"Marcus raises a good point," the former leader of Red spoke up. "I also believe that we should keep the journal to ourselves and end this discussion." It was no surprise, since Red was just so agreeable. "Any other thoughts?"

"I suppose that would be the best course of action."

"I agree as well."

"Then, shall we hold a vote? All in favor... All opposed... Wonderful. We shall keep the journal for now. What else is on the agenda?"

"Nothing," Marcus sighed. "That was it. Send out the morning message and wait for Grosvenor, Erabus and the scouts to get back until we meet again. Dismissed."

After a few handshakes and smiles, the room was cleared, and seven of the eight most powerful people in the world walked down the stairs together. Meanwhile, a scratchy message jumped through a wire system spread out over the city and played out of the numerous makeshift speakers. It was their first electrical invention, and only a week ago, it finally began to work with the help of twenty laborers every morning.

"Good morning, citizens of our wonderful city! Another day has begun, and it's time for you to join it! As you rub that sleep from your eyes, be sure to take a moment to thank those soldiers standing guard so you could sleep so well. And don't forget those farmers who work tirelessly every day to give us all of our rations. And finally, thank yourselves and your neighbors, because none of this would be possible without you. Food lines open up in 15 minutes, so get that front spot in line and enjoy the nice meal we have planned for you today!"

In four different locations across the city, metal sliders opened, and workers quickly scribbled "EGGS & TOAST" on the front before rushing back into the kitchens.

SALEM​

The first thing that entered Salem's ear that morning was a distant, painful shriek. He smiled and woke up peacefully.

As he walked through the tunnels and out into the main camp, those who happened to place themselves too close quickly stood up straight and silenced themselves. As vicious chaos ensued all around, the only thing surrounding Salem was a tense, tense stillness. He couldn't stop smiling.

However, he did stop smiling when he noticed something by the gate of the fence. As he came closer, he saw it was a stray book, left alone at the gate—alone except for a hideously strange aura. Wiping the dirt from the cover, he squinted his eyes to read the small handwriting that said "Adam Stoll."

There was no Adam Stoll in his camp.

The rage started slowly—it always does. It boiled and boiled, and the pressure built up inside his body until it began to overflow. Turning around, he yelled at the circle around him, "Meeting at the gate, NOW!"

Crashing through the camp like a tidal wave, people grabbed whoever they could find and whispered, "Meeting at the gate." Fearfully, racing against Salem's dwindling patience, the masses of Scavengers began to crowd around Salem at the twisted iron gate until everyone who was awake and alive were gathered in one spot. And with a raised hand, flashing the mark on its palm, all was silent once more.

"This—" Salem spit the word out sharper than a dagger, cutting deeper, too. He raised the book. "This was found at the gate today, signed 'Adam Stoll.' Unless any of you thought of lying to me about your name, there's nobody named Adam Stoll who is a Scavenger, and right now, you should all hope that there's nobody named Adam Stoll alive right now.

"And I know exactly how this man was able to enter our camp. It's because you are all worthless, incompetent pieces of shit who decided to smear themselves across this camp. I have given you everything, and you answer me by letting this happen. I can end your lives any moment. While you walk, while you eat, while you sleep. No matter how far you can run, I will find you. I am talking to you, Adam Stoll.

"Let me be very clear. I want all of you to find this man and bring him to me by noon. Otherwise, I will accept that he's escaped. Until then, nobody will be allowed to leave this camp, and if you try to, I will handle you—personally." Salem paused. "And the first person to find Adam Stoll will be... rewarded."

And the meeting ended.

tag list

@Baku Cychotic Desert Rose JujuBee Nap MarinesThePsychoticReaper Meredith NightSky Noivian Shiruru Sir Galahad II The Regal Rper TheHangedMan kou welian Gilzar @St Sin @Camilton Ms. Sparrow

 

[TheHangedMan]

Some people were destined for greatness; some had it thrust upon them. Vivian, however, did not have either of these things, which went a long way towards explaining why she was currently tied up and sitting on the ground in front of two men.


This is not normal, she thought to herself, and yet, I am not surprised.


It had been as typical of a day as it could be in this New World. The two men had been traveling, as they so often did, and night had begun to fall upon them. They’d been lucky enough to catch a rabbit, and while Erik set about the task of skinning it, spitting it, and roasting it, Jason had gone and done a sweep around their surroundings to make sure things were safe; old habits died the hardest.


It was perhaps ill luck, or the hand of some fickle goddess of fate, that had seen fit to make the woman and the men's paths cross. He had long known, since he was child, about stranger danger; and these days, the danger was far greater than it had ever been. ‘Stranger danger’ was one of the few things that Jason lived by, and it had gotten him this far, so why not keep doing what worked?


He surprised the woman, overpowered her easily. He picked up a big rock, and was prepared to cave in her skull; just put a quick end to it without worrying about dirtying one of his weapons, when he felt words bouncing around his words. ‘We don’t have to kill’. The two men had practically been arguing all day, since the day before, Jason had killed a Scavenger without so much as a ‘how do you do’, and it had gotten his scholarly companion all riled up.


With a growl, and a feeling that he’d regret it, Jason bound the woman’s hands with some rope instead. He hissed his words at her, words that burned with acidic hatred. “Don’t do anything stupid, you’re not alive because you’re a woman, so don’t think you get special privileges!”


It wasn’t a kindness; it wasn’t even for Erik’s sake. No, Jason was going to prove a point. He brought the woman back to the campfire at once, and practically shoved her down to the ground. You kill to survive, that’s how it is these days. The words were on his tongue, but he didn’t speak them… yet.


Almost as if sensing the unspoken words, Erik had stopped tending to the nearly-done rabbit, and looked from the woman, to the fierce warrior that brought her. “We don’t have to, J. There’s always a choice.” His eyes drifted back to the woman; to her bindings. He could easily slice them, and free her, and yet, he didn’t. He valued life, and believed in its sanctity; he was an idealist, but, he was no fool. She was a stranger, and yes, she could be dangerous, even if she didn’t seem it. She could stay bound for now.


The scholarly gentleman’s gaze was warm, and friendly; a rare sight in the darkening world they now inhabited. His entire demeanor radiated peacefulness, a sort of solemn and serene aura that emanated from him. When he spoke, it was with no harshness; and yet, there was power in his voice all the same. Clarity and conviction that was firm, yet soft.


“It’s like I was saying before, J. When we make a sword, the core of the blade is different from the edge. If it’s soft all the way through, it won’t hold an edge; but if it’s hard all the way through, it will shatter after only a few hits. A sword needs a hard edge, to maintain its sharpness, but a soft and springy center, so that it can handle the shock of use. We have to be like swords. We need to be both; we can’t just be one or the other.” Evenly paced, perfectly measured, his words seemed carefully chosen and prepared.


“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Don’t have to keep repeating yourself.” Jason rolled his eyes, annoyed; not so much with Erik, but at the situation.


The chatterbox continued, his attention turning to the woman. “First, I would like to apologize for the rude behavior of my friend.” His eyes focused on her face, even as the bigger man huffed in annoyance at the apology; Jason felt entirely correct in detaining her. He did not stare her down, however; merely gauged her reaction, and looked to see how she responded to his line of questioning to come. “Would you please tell us, what your name is, where you are coming from, who you associate with, and what you were doing before you were, shall we say, interrupted?”


“I’ve been instructed not to do anything stupid, ” she warily replied. As soon as the words left her mouth, it occurred to her that she had, in fact, done something irredeemably stupid.


In the moment that came afterwards, Jason moved to wrap his hands around her throat. His movement, in turn, had Erik shoving the other man backwards. Even as the two seemed to ‘fight’ with each other, Jason was practically shouting. “Who do you work for!? Ya see, Erik, no one can be trusted, we should kill her and be done with it! If you can’t man up, then just turn your back while I do it.”


“Y-you said…” The woman started to speak, only to be cut off by the screaming and arguing, and the whole situation--the day, the week--catching up to her just made her start bawling.


“You trusted me.” Erik countered the violent outburst with peace, and precision words. “And I’m asking you to trust me again.” There were several seconds of quiet that seemed much longer than they were, due to the tension in the air.


It was true. Jason and Erik trusted each other quite closely, despite their differences; for all their disagreements, they were men of unflinching conviction. That was the foundation for their mutual respect. They might fight, me against my brother, as the saying went, but the saying did conclude with: my brother and I against the world.


Jason mulled over how much he did trust the scholar, the peace-lover; and the man who tried so hard to be a saint knelt by the woman, took out a handkerchief, and did his best to dry her eyes. “Please understand.” He spoke in a calming tone, “I am trying to help you. Answer the questions. I can’t help you if you don’t work with me.”


“I don’t want to die! I don’t want my son to die! I just -- I wanted to find the Tower… and my husband, and my son, and -- I-I’m sorry! You can take everything I have, but please, please! I can’t go back, I can’t go back…” Her face had turned pink and blotchy from the crying; perhaps even a touch of heat stroke from the shawl, who knew. She could only pray to God that these men wouldn’t slaughter her, or worse.


“You want your son back.” The two men said, almost in unison; but where Erik saw a chance to do good, Jason saw a chance to profit. The military man thought back to his days as a bounty hunter in the Old World, while the scholar thought of the first days in this New World, and how hard he worked to help people. “So you’re working for me, now, right?” The hunter fully intended to use what she had said against her.


“Don’t, Jason. If you exploit someone in trouble, how are you any different from a Scavenger?” Erik was practically chastising now. He looked ready to preach, yet held off on it. Erik could easily be motivated to do the right thing, because it was the right thing; while his traveling companion was more often motivated by pragmatism. It’s why they sparked so often, like flint and steel.


“We can escort you back to the Tower. I know some people, I’ll make sure you’re looked after. I’m certain someone can find you a good job; honest work for honest pay. If you tell us about your family, we’ll see about reuniting all of you.” Erik spoke with genuine sincerity.


A quick glance was spared to Jason. “And I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your work. You know I always come through for you.” As he spoke, it seemed as if the last of the woman’s tears had dried up, and Erik was able to turn his attention back to the rabbit; just in time to save it from burning.


Vivian, still distressed, weighed her options.


“...Yeah, I’ll work for you,” she said to Jason, wisely choosing to limit herself to saying only one stupid thing today. The other man’s words stung; it’s not like she had wanted to be a Scavenger. “If you’re really with the Tower…”


“My husband… I haven’t seen him in two years. My son is… he’s…” Vivian struggled for the right words, but failed. “He didn’t want to leave.”


And Erik’s heart sank. Nothing, it seemed, could ever be easy.

 

[Meredith]

Reno woke with a start.
The air was hot, uncomfortable, and she could feel the movement of the camp. The drum of feet, running toward the gate, could be felt through the ground.

It took her a second to get it together. A friend - or, at least, she assumed - pulled her to her feet, whispered "The gate", disappeared into the crowd. Bitter.

She scowled, straightened her shirt, checked herself over for weapons as she ran.
She made it to the gate. Stopped. Listened.

Flinched. She was not useless, not a failure, not a liar. She was not going to be a fucking liar. Suck my fine god-scorning dick. No. Respect. At least some respect. Vivian, did you do this?

She thought about the older woman.

Something necessary, fundamental, had broken in her friend. It was small, at first, but like a disease had spread and tangled itself into the very fiber of her being. Vivian had been strong, or was strong, but seemed to want.. out. Reno confronted Vivian about it. About being unfaithful.

Reno thought, privately, that if she was really loyal she'd have went right to Salem. Right to his watchers. Went to tattle. She hadn't, and she would live with that. Vivian had left, and with that, Reno's duty to her was gone. All's fair in love and war.

Salem scared her. More than most people could.
Reno was confident in her ability to take a punch. Her ability to have teeth knocked out, bruises forming, and stay standing. No. He did scare her.

She stood, uncertainly, as the meeting ended. The scavengers began to disperse, almost as rats darting away from a predator. Moving as a shifting, fleeing, a shattered whole.

Taking a breath, she stood, eying Salem up and down.

She stepped forward. Leveled her breathing. Kept her eyes to the ground. "Salem, I - wonder." She started, sounding uncertain, pressing on after a moment. "I don't remember if you were - are - well, aware. Vivian left a few days ago. I thought she was going out on a patrol, or a raid, but she hasn't come back and-"

Risking a glance up at Salem, up at the others, she seemed a mix of determination, bitterness, and terror.
"-I wonder whether she is involved. That's all."

welian Swoob

 

[Nap]

music | location: Gate | interactions: Walker | mentions: Salem, Reno

Warmth brushed across her face as streams of light peeked over the horizon. Her slender figure could be seen standing at the eastern most edge of camp, a look of discontent as she stared across dead land. The woman couldn't recall when or how she developed the habit of watching the sun rise. It somehow snuck into her everyday routine while chaos reigned what she came to call her home. However, "home" was the last word any sane person would call the Scavenger hideout, as sweat and blood were the essence of nearly everyone's soul. Nadine included.

A slow breath left her lips as she moved to fix her hair. Long, dark locks that normally fell to her waist were now tied neatly in a bun, revealing a dark mark on the nape of her neck. Her fingers grazed it lightly as she pushed herself away from the wall, feet dragging against the sandy ground. Nadine often found herself reminiscing on that past memory--the memory of needle against skin. It was like a toxin in her neck; she had never experienced such pain before, yet that cold man's finger on her flesh seemed to hurt more. She remembered feeling ill for a couple days afterwards, the scientific reason unknown but Nadine guessed it was from the stress she felt upon meeting him. Especially since that was the case during the present.

"Nadine," came a man, whose voice was gruff yet soft, as the woman was tidying her small work area, "Salem wants everyone at the gate."

She looked up from her tool stacked table, an indescribable expression on her face, as she replied with a small smile. "Right, okay. Thank you, Terry." After the brief interaction, Nadine made her way over to her quarters to find her supposed partner still snoozing. As much as she wanted to frown at the sight, she simply maintained a neutral front and nudged the guy.

"Walker..." Nadine whispered, her finger poking at his cheek. "Walker... hey... wake up." Without any warning, her wrist was suddenly held like in a grip lock. She winced slightly and bit her lip as her eyes met those of annoyance, if not rage.

"My run doesn't start until later," Walker said lowly, his feet moving to the floor as he referred to his supply runs. "You should know that, so why are you waking me up so early?" The man's green eyes stared down at her as he towered over her.

"Sorry..." Nadine began, her heart pounding in her chest. She forced herself to calm down as multiple thoughts raced in her head, attempting to find the less panicked response. "Salem wants everyone together. At the gate."

That was it. His gaze changed. It was serious yet loving. Distant yet kind. Nadine couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh as he simply patted her shoulder. He even moved to kiss her forehead but she unconsciously dodged, something she knew she'd later regret. Instead of addressing the action, however, he urged her to follow him to the meeting location and she quietly obliged, head low and hand over her already bruising wrist.

"This-" she heard as they approached the crowd, the hairs on her arms already standing. Her brown eyes looked passed the figures in front of her and they met the man every Scavenger called his or her leader. His words sank into her body and it felt like a wave of water crashing down onto her, the rage in his voice so evident and bone-chilling. Nadine couldn't help but wonder what person was brave enough, what person dared, to do something like infuriate Salem. It was practically suicidal and his warnings were evidence of that.

Suddenly, a smaller woman stepped up, her voice slightly uncertain. Nadine felt sick after hearing her speak but she remained steadfast. Her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she nervously waited for Salem's reaction.

 

[Brax]

Jono​

It had been a long night. He didn't get much sleep. This was nothing out of the ordinary.

Sweatpants and a t-shirt were all that was necessary. Jono did not have extravagant plans. However, he had to get out of his room. He had spent enough time tossing and turning. Pacing. Staring at nothing but darkness. Any external stimulation would be welcomed. As he rubbed his eyes and walked outside, Jono took a gander at what surrounded him. Then, Salem called a meeting. Not wanting to be late, Jono began walking alongside a crowd of people toward the gate. It was like they were sheep being herded back into their living space. Two people, in particular, had been taking their time. Jono was in no rush, but their back-and-forth meaningless banter was beginning to piss him off. He was stuck behind them, after all.

Light hues could not get a glimpse of Salem as he started his speech. It wasn't until he spoke of a notebook that Jono got curious. Trying to get a peak by standing up on his tippy-toes and moving his head did not prove to be strategic enough to offer a good view. So Jono did what he would have done on any other day, given the situation. He began grabbing people by the back of their shirt collar and pushing them behind himself. Jono wasn't about to ask to be excused and no one was going to move because he asked. No one would dare strike him in the middle of Salem's speech because of it either. Hell, who knew what Salem would do to them if they spoke out of turn and started spouting about? That is why Jono spoke softly when he began moving himself to the front of the pack.

"Get the hell out of my way." ​

Some grunted. Some snarled. No one spoke or acted. Jono's hues immediately hit the book as Salem questioned what was going on. The young man could not blame the leader of the Scavengers for his insecurity. It was a bit odd that the book had just been found lying on the floor without reason. On top of that, no one in the meeting had brought up exactly whose it was or where it came from. If it had been from inside of the camp, which there was a pretty high probability considering its placement, then it must have meant that someone was in the camp that did not belong. Salem loved spitting out threats constantly, but Jono didn’t get phased. He crossed his arms and continued listening. One of his strengths was the lack of time he spent flapping his lips without reason.

Jono left as soon as the group had been dismissed. Some fishy shit had been going on. But, what was in that notebook? Ultimately, that was the question worth pondering. Feeling as though he was mentally drained, his body tired, Jono moved to take a seat at the nearest possible convenience. He was not worried about any other scavengers running up on him, but just to be safe, Jono had a thing about sitting in the wide-open; No, the man refused. He only sat when his back was covered - usually by a wall or a corner so that other people could not sneak up behind him. If they could only approach him from one way, it was one less thing for Jono to worry about. When he walked back to the tent that he slept in, Jono took a seat right beside it, the cloth pressed against his back. He was a few feet away from the opening.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, Jono noticed something in his pocket was pressing up against his leg. Slipping a hand in and wrapping his digits around a necklace, the young man immediately knew what it was. It was his father's necklace, the old man's good luck charm. Jono had not realized that it was in his possession, let alone in the same pants he had worn when the only influential figure in his life died. Taking a few deep breaths, Jono's pupils dilated before he hung his head.

 

[Zahzi]

Sleep was not something that came to Trafalgar easily, nor was it something that came without its own problems. Without constant focus on what was in front of him, his mind, the scarred, damaged thing it was, had a penchant of bringing to his attention everything that still lingered. Memories of the year he spent with the Scavengers paired along the horrors from an age far gone. Perhaps it was because of those memories that he was more prepared for the efforts Salem put into trying to break him. Once you've seen the absolute depravity one human can cause, seeing it again is hardly as shocking. Especially when the new version has the appearance of a rejected fanfic.
Trying to regain his focus, he became aware of the shadows around him. It wasn't the first time his past manifested itself as he awoke. It would hardly be the last, either. Each figure carried a recognizable voice, exuding its own flavor of madness. Some laughed at the man before them. Others were terrified. Many angry. None sympathetic. The angry had been there long before everything became this. The scared ones, though, were new. Perhaps he was already picking up on the ones from last night. A group of Scavengers had wandered too close to the Tower in the dead of night. Six in total. Five were returned. Perhaps the ones leading this settlement would condemn him for how they were dealt with. It wasn't like anyone here took joy in speaking to him, anyway.

Quick flashes returned to him, a hostile band of Scavengers, the knife used to cut through the lead Scav's chest cavity lost one of its serrated teeth. He would need to find a new one soon...Maybe someone knew how to repair it- Doubtful anyone would speak to him, though. The second and third found their peace easily enough. The scavengers had taught him well the joys of attempting lobotomies without any proper experience; Perhaps that was where the knife was damaged...? He needed to use the hammer for that particular incident. The fourth, a brute of a man. He made a valiant attempt to remove Trafalgar from existence. His heart wasn't in the right place. Though perhaps cutting it out while he still drew breath was going too far...The fifth seemed to think so, as looking directly at him caused the panicked man to draw the blade on himself. Number six had fled, throwing anything he could use to defend themselves to the cold ground. He didn't care to follow. The threat was dealt with.

Ah..He hadn't left the site, yet. The shadows were still there, though, drawing ever closer. Trafalgar tilted his head to the side, focusing on the largest shadow that glared at him. There was a sudden crack as he popped the joints in his neck. The sensation forced the shadows to recede from his vision, as if washed away. And just like that, he was alone again. He slowly stood up from the tree he had chosen to sleep under and surveyed around him. Blood, bodies, and loot seemed to be scattered across the ground. He would need to clean up. The smell might not bother him, but the Tower had issues with this sort of thing. Of all things to carry, the larger Scav had been carrying a shovel with him. How fortunate. Five graves for five unfortunate people. After his actions, it may not be believed by anyone that he still carried remorse for his actions..But, they were a threat to the others.

"...Sorry."

From a good distance away he could hear a commotion. After retrieving anything of value from the Scavs, supplies, weapons, ammunition and the like in his pack, he began moving through the trees, towards the source of the noise. It seemed to be voices. Three. All familiar, but one was....Out of place. After a few minutes, he reached the clearing they were in. He remained in the darkness provided by the tree's shade, the glow from his mask most likely to betray him, were they to pay attention.
He recognized the trio in front of him. The grumpy one, Jason, and the curious one, Erik. They seemed to have captured the third. Vivian. The frantic one. He only recognized her from his time with the Scavengers. Hardly a threat. Many times Jason didn't care about threats....He would have to intervene before she said something...Poorly. He rose one arm and held it near the tree trunk in front of him, knocking on it loud enough for them to hear. Perhaps something deliberate and not startling would keep Jason from thinking the worst. Hopefully.

He already dealt with one giant of a man in a violent manner in the past 12 hours....​

 

[Gilzar]

Ozzy

As the sun rose, the city began to open its eyes, tossing and turning like a giant waking from its slumber. Voices traveled out of the buildings Ozzy passed as he patrolled the streets. Not many people were used to the intercoms...hopefully that would change. It'd been years since he heard a voice powered by electricity, and for a little bit he actually forgot about them. Just hearing the faint echos of the intercom unnerved him slightly. Normally when you hear voices coming from all sides you panic, as it meant a group had surrounded you. But not this time...just a reminder that it was morning and that breakfast was ready.

His nerves calmed, and he grinned softly. Things would never be like they were before the incident, but at least they were making progress toward something better... He holstered his M16 over his back, and made his way down the streets. The morning rush crowded the streets, but everyone made sure to get out of Ozzy's way. At this point in his life it was no secret he stood out in a crowd, and he didn't really care about it anymore. All he wanted was his eggs and bacon, nothing more.

The wait wasn't long. Early bird gets the first worm after all. He grabbed his metal tray just like everyone else did and set himself down on a stair well with some familiar faces.

Things were going well at the tower. People respected him, he had a home, a job, and a consistent source of meals. Were they almost going too well? He paused abruptly and scanned the streets, and his smirk faded. Intercoms were nice but they don't stop people from shooting you in the back. Ozzy couldn't help but go silent and stare toward the outskirts of the metropolis as he chewed down on his toast. Out there was a volcano of shit just waiting to burst...

 

[JujuBee]

Jerome​

Like any other Scavenger, Jerome had spent his time to himself, away from others yet still easy to be found if need be. That didn’t mean he was emitting a welcoming aura though. His time with the Scavengers had taught him that being welcoming to an extent was just asking for trouble or well- death. He’d be in his permanent spot, one he’d fought hard for (and one he’d be damned to lose), sketching away in his small notebook. Sketching and writing was something he did during his down time. His job as a guard with Nadine wasn’t time and it had been quite some time since he’d seen Jono either. So there he’d be, doing his own thing and doing his best to ignore the pestering teens who thought it would be fun to taunt him when there was a flurry of whispers.

The moment the one teenage girl stopped poking at him, he’d spare a glance behind him, seeing the small group moving away quickly. A questioning look would cross his face and it would only be then that another would stop beside him. “Salem has called for us.”

Ugh.

Jerome would nod in appreciation, putting away his notebook and making his way towards where everyone else was beginning to crowd. He wouldn’t force himself to be in the front, stopping just in the middle so that if Salem began trying to kill, he wouldn’t be the first victim. His eyes roamed around the group, meeting with a few familiar faces and passing those who were mere acquaintances or unknown. Yet his wandering eyes would stop once the leader began to speak. And fuck, he sure as hell did more than just speak. He called each and every one of them out. There were visible flinches coming from some and an obvious tension in the air.

There goes a more relaxed setting. Shoving his hands in his pocket, Jerome would listen to their young leader, a small snarl on his lips. There wasn’t even a chance of explanation from anyone. Nor was there any kind of thought of it being someone else. Nope, they were all accountable for this bullshit. That’s what it was too- Bullshit.

When Salem would finish, people would immediately begin scurrying away from the predator though others stayed. Jerome would be included in the one staying as after Salem’s precious ‘lectures’ there always seemed to be something entertaining. His predictions would be correct as a younger girl… Reva? Raleigh? Reno… Reno. He remembered her… Somewhat. She would be the one to take a step forward, already making an accusation of someone having been the culprit as well as having escaped. This would cause Jerome to be interested and he’d take a small step forward, eyes flickering back and forth between Salem and Reno… Quite curious to see what the outcome would be.

 

[Desert Rose]

Jason blinked as Vivian began to cry and looked over at Erik even more annoyed than before. She reminded him of an old bounty he had to collect it was the worst week of his life. He looked her over thinking about gagging her, but his thoughts were interrupted when she said she would work for him.

"She needs honest work, you said it yourself. I could use her for a job.... she'd make really good bait. A poor defenseless woman." Jason said with a chuckle and could only laugh knowing how Erik would not be amused by his suggestion.

However his laughter stopped and he looked Vivian over as she spoke of her son not wanting to leave. There weren't many groups that could survive on their own and she wasn't with Tower, so that could only mean one thing. Her son was apart of those filthy Scavs that Jason grew to hate. He didn't hate them for a reason most did, they were a nuisance and they all seemed to look for a fight.

Jason didn't share Erik's sympathy. Where Erik found a soft heart towards the woman's trials he found opportunity and possible deception. His movements were quick as he grabbed her shoulders forced her to turn around and kicked the back of her knee just hard enough to make her fall. While she dropped to her knees he pushed her to the ground and held her head down so the right side of her face was against the warm sand. He was straddling her and was crouched just barely above her so his weight was off of her but could easily be pressed against her if needed.

"You think you're so clev-" he started to say when he heard the sound of petrified wood being beaten. He turned his head only to see eerie glowing green dots in the distance.

The man showed a sliver of relief and he tried to calm himself as he stood up releasing Vivian's face.

"Watch her." he told Erik and walked over towards the tree.

"Trall," He called to the man upon seeing him, Because pronouncing Trafalgar was too annoying.

Jason paused looking him up and down seeing the blood of a fight and smirked "Looks like you had fun." He muttered and motioned him over as he walked back towards Erik pulling him aside, while his eyes focused on Vivian. "We can't trust her, this could be a set up, a trap." He warned Erik and looked at Tralfagar hoping to get agreement from him in that Erik would see reason.

welian Zahzi TheHangedMan

 

[welian]

Vivian Shaw

Bait? Bait?!

Trapped, captured, kicked to the ground – Vivian resisted, but only because she was scared that the fists would be next. More hot tears darkened the ground. For sure, this man was going to snap her neck, and that would be the end of that.

Tower was supposed to be better than this, she thought, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in all the despair that was leaking out. It was supposed to be a pilot light in a dark bay, a shining city on a hill.

She must have been captured by more Scavengers, instead of Tower. Surely, it would only be a matter of time before they revealed their motives, and dragged her back to Salem’s hellhole. And there… All she could see was her body hanging from the gallows. Maybe they’d even make her son do the deed. The stupid boy, she loved him, couldn’t he see that there was no future there?

She raised her head as her assailant left her, and pulled someone out of the foliage. Another Scavenger. Truly, she had fallen right back into a Scavenger trap. What was even the point, then, of trying to leave?

"...You’re just like them," she murmured, heartbroken. "You’re working for Salem and you’re going to take me right back to him… I was a fool to trust any of you!"

Vivian laid her head back on the sand and silently wept for her lost family: the husband gone without a trace, and her son who she’d never hold again. All she wanted was a chance at survival. She risked everything she had left, and now here she was at a dead end.


Desert Rose TheHangedMan Zahzi

 

[Zahzi]

Trafalgar looked down at his attire, which was indeed splotched by a new coat of crimson. Perhaps he had gone a little too far last night... Nevertheless, he followed Jason over to Erik. He looked back down at Vivian while Jason continued his rhetoric about her not to be trusted. If he only knew how far off he was with his allegations. This woman, Vivian was about as much a threat as a tree stump; you might fall over her if you ignored her long enough.

He turned to look at Jason again and mustered what he could to speak. The wheezing was probably loud enough to be heard by the sobbing woman on the ground.
"This woman is indeed from the Scavenger camp, but like me, wanted better. She is not a threat to anyone but herself, Jason." he paused, thinking a moment.

"Last night, I encountered a band of Scavengers hunting for someone. It appears they were out for blood, looking for her." Whether this was true, no one could ever learn. A small fabrication to calm Jason's blood was better for everyone, here.

"To be clear, she is by far the most useless, bumbling, harmless example of humanity to date right now." he gestured to the woman slowly re-hydrating the barren earth with her own tears.
"You manage to accept my existence, Jason. I encourage you to see her in a similar light....Minus the scars."

It was unclear why he was attempting to aid another Scavenger. After all, the blood of five were caked on his outfit at the moment. Pity? Boredom? Only time would tell.

welian Desert Rose TheHangedMan

 

[Swoob]

SALEM​

At: Gate​

|​

With: Meredith Brax Nap JujuBee​

|​

OOC: i asked for mere's permission i swear​

The little bugs hurried and scurried away, as all bugs do with a stamp of one's foot. However, after they dispersed across the empty camp, Salem noticed one short woman standing in front of him—Reno. The morning sun threw a blue light straight onto her face, opening up her eyes and revealing the determination caught in every minuscule dark hole. Though she faced him with unmaskable fear, he still could not deny it—here was a warrior. He listened.

"Salem, I—wonder." She paused. "I don't remember if you were—are—well, aware. Vivian left a few days ago. I thought she was going out on a patrol, or a raid, but she hasn't come back and—I wonder whether she is involved. That's all."

He smiled, and slowly reached his hand out and placed it softly on the top of her head. "You've done well to stand here alone and tell me this. Though I'm sure most here would believe I'm lost in my own world, I'm aware of the fear and rejection that meets me from everybody here. You've shown not only your confidence, but your loyalty, and for that, I thank you."

Lifting his hand from her head, he slowly moved his thumb to her face, and placed it directly under her eyepatch.

"However."

Salem drove his thumb into Reno's eye, leading with the nail. Cleaving through it, he felt it tear and collapse. It was warm and wet in his favorite way. Leaning down, he moved close to her other eye and looked into it, unblinking. "I already know Vivian's left. Do you think I'm fucking stupid? I know everything that happens in my camp." He jammed the thumb in further, and dark blood and clear fluid poked around the eyepatch and dripped down her face. "Look around you, idiot." Pushing against the rim of her skull, he forced her head left and right. "Don't you see that most of the camp is empty by now? Or did nobody tell you that we're leaving soon? I slept in the fucking tunnels. Are you unable to put two things together? Sorry you missed that day of math class.

"Listen. If you ever talk to me again, make sure you think before you waste my time." As he pulled his thumb out, it caught on the eyepatch and dragged it below her eye, exposing it to the frigid and unforgiving air.

"Don't waste my time." He wiped the blood on his shirt and walked away.

 

[TheHangedMan]

"That's hardly honest work." He countered bitterly, right off the bat, the moment Jason's mouth had closed. He rough handled her, and in a moment, he was standing up and moving over to his pack of things. Then Jason went on to manhandle her in a way that in the Old World would have been entirely unacceptable, except maybe in some of the most backwards hellholes of the world... but this New World? He supposed this was the way of things.

Something distracted the 'dog' from his casual sadism, and this also drew Erik's attention; right after he got his utility knife. After identifying the man by his mask, and knowing he was a Tower (even though Erik himself had had little to do with Trafalgar, he paid attention to all the people of interest in the Faction) member, and seeing Jason was now away from her... well, now it was his turn to do something to get under Jason's skin.

Was it perhaps a little petty and college-like that the two men acted in this way? Perhaps. He went over to Vivian, and easily corrected her posture so that she was sitting; she may become scared as she sees the flash of a utility knife, with a serrated edge, but its purpose becomes clear in an instant. "Don't run." He whispered to her. With a quick sawing motion, her rope bindings were cut in half, freeing her.

The entire time he is doing this, Trafalgar was busy explaining to Jason that she was no threat at all, which just reinforced--in Erik's mind--that what he was doing now was the right course of action. If she ran, he would understand... but he really needed her not to. Her words, though he knew they were caused by Jason's harshness, hurt him more than anyone else; and beyond all that, he still sincerely wished to help her. He knew that if she ran, Jason would use that as an excuse to kill her, and at that point, there'd be nothing he could do to stop the bounty hunter.

And at this point, because so much shenanigans has been occurring, the rabbit has burnt. Looks like they'll be sleeping hungry tonight; the scrawny thing would have barely been enough for the two men in the first place, anyway, between the four of them, it'd have hardly been a snack... but still, what a waste.
welian Desert Rose Zahzi

 

[Meredith]

Reno
Interactions: Swoob l Nearby: Nadine, Jono, Jerome l OOC: Fucking rip
Warning: This post contains fairly extreme gore.

It was the cold.

Reno had never liked the cold. It was a thing that bore into you, clinging to your very soul, making you uncomfortable and uneasy all at once.

The desert was hot. Cool during the night, but hot, and that was what she liked about it. Everyone here, too, was wrapped in the fires of passion - or at least bloodlust. That heat gave her purpose. A sense of community and something to preserve.

She had always thought Salem was completely, utterly, cold.

His praise surprised her. She had never liked being touched, especially not after her 'initiation' into the scavengers, but was hesitant to pull away. Her apprehension turned to dread as his thumb traced down her face to her eyepatch.

Did he know she had considered leaving after being injured, only to decide that here her loyalties lie, with the people she had fought beside? Did he-
No.

Pain. White hot, burning, pain in her eye. Her mind flicked back, and she pushed his hands against him briefly, or thought she did. That night, running, an explosion-

She did not let her eyes close.

Salem's face came in, close, his breath hot against her cheek. Blood had drained from her face, and she shuddered, though admittedly not from the slight chill of the open air.
She fought, hard, to focus on his speech. Preparing to pack up.

Her good eye, pupil dilated, stared unblinking into his. Tears welled in it, and she let out a sudden, shaky breath.
"I was on - out. Patrol, yesterday."
She tried to explain, found the words catching on the sob she was holding in her throat, coming out a mangled mess of slurred vowel. She did not try again.

She could feel it. The scabbing she had tore open more than once came loose easily under his finger. She could feel it. His thumbnail, making a new cut, pushing through the delicate sphere like a knife through butter.
Dark blood dripped, slowly, down her check.
He pulled back, turned away, did not stay to witness her shrink back in relief.

Tears began to run. from her good eye, they fell, hitting the dust. Those from her bloodied eye instead found themselves in her hand, as she cupped it close, feeling blood and salt pool together in her palm. On her hand, a thin - almost flaky, like a contact made of tissue paper - ripped half-sphere.
She wiped at it with her other hand, and realized, after a moment.

It was a part of her.
A part of her eye.

She felt very sick. Unsteady.
He was not cold. He was hot, cruel, uncaring.
A fire does not care what it does to the forest it nurtures.

She turned, still cupping her bad eye, looking for anyone to help her. Finally, she spoke, though bile rose threateningly in her throat. "I think I'm.. kind of fucked."

And then she puked.

 

[Nap]

music | location: Gate > Medical Tent | interactions: Reno ( Meredith ) | mentions: Jerome

Walker stood next to her like a haughty statue, arms crossed while wearing an expression of general unconcern for the current situation. Nadine, on the other hand, was horrified. She'd seen many things during the last two years of the new world, but that didn't prepare her for much. Even as a doctor, she felt deeply disturbed by Salem's actions yet she couldn't look away. It was as if her attention was glued to him.

Her stomach was churning aggressively as she watched Salem's thumb trace under Reno's eyepatch. She prayed desperately and silently that he wasn't going to do what she was thinking, but... it happened. Scabbed skin being torn suddenly resounded in her ears like a haunting tune, intensified by the sight of a soft, wet, pulpy mass being disgustingly violated. Nadine could practically feel the back of her own eye pulsating and burning as her throat tightened uncomfortably. Her temples began to pound as she watched the dark liquid cascade down her friend's face, a feeling of helplessness filling her core. It wasn't until Salem left and people began to disperse that she finally stepped up, ignoring Walker's words to leave the crippled girl.

Nadine instantly reached for the worn handkerchief in her pocket, wiping the bile from Reno's mouth. She kept her face neutral for anyone that observed, but inside there was panic. It was one thing to let the eye heal on its on, but they both knew there was no fixing it now. Her gaze hardened as she told Reno to continue putting pressure on the wound, leading them both to the medical tent and hoping Jerome was following close behind. Treating the area was going to take some time and she didn't want anyone to disturb her, nonetheless someone who wasn't in a dire situation like Reno, which was why an intimidating bodyguard was a plus sometimes. She also didn't want Walker storming in because she could tell he was somewhat irritated by her choice to aide instead of disregard.

After assisting the shorter woman onto the makeshift operating table, she let her posture falter the tiniest bit. "I'm going to have to operate and stop the bleeding," she said as she began organizing the necessary tools and materials, which were nearly non-existent. The last battle between the Tower Organization and Scavengers severely depleted her medical supplies. There was nothing to aid ones pain and hardly any gauze or bandages. Reno should know that though since they'd both went through an eye operation once already. "And it's going to hurt," Nadine added, removing some metal tools from boiling water and drying them, "Maybe even more than the first time but if you're lucky, the initial pain will make you faint and you won't even feel what's happening."

Once her hands were as clean as they could be, she sat the tray of tools next to her. The first thing she did was dab as much blood as she could from the area, the scent of iron stuffing her nose unwelcomingly. When she finished, she picked up a needle, thread, and a probe before speaking quietly. "We both know that eye is gone now without the proper machines, tools, and medicine. The best I can do is preserve it so this portion," she motioned, "of your face doesn't sink in and ruin your bone structure. Ready?"

 

[Sir Galahad II]

The foggy haze that bordered his vision in this horrid product of his mind was the least of Egon’s concerns. He was pressed flat up against the cold stone of the basement walls, held in place by crude iron, hopelessly forced to relive the pain he felt that day, though in a much worse manner. No amount of strength loosed the nails embedded into his wrists, no amount of endurance could withstand the white-hot pain. He could only watch as the crimson blade plunged into his lover’s flesh, over and over again. Her horrid screams and the hideous laughter of the Scavengers pierced his skull. He found himself constantly yelling in rage and defiance, swearing and stamping his feet against the concrete floor, yet nothing could be done.

Egon awoke with a start as the familiar gibberish he recognized as English began to fill the barracks from the speakers. He sighed, then rested his head back against his rough pillow. Another nightmare. Common occurrence by now, nothing special. At the moment he was more irritated at the noise. The intercoms had only been constructed a week ago, but as he slowly learned English in his time spent at Tower, he began to pick up on some of the words in the messages the more he heard them; Good, morning, sleep, soldiers, thank... and food. Hunger gripped him once more, preventing him from drifting back to sleep, and with reluctance he began to crawl out of bed to collect his rations, putting on his dusty uniform before entering the halls of the Tower.

He felt somewhat relieved that he finally woke up, though he felt like he could use more sleep. What annoyed Egon far more at the moment, however, was the reminder he received every time he entered a crowd: Despite having finally found people, genuine people in this god-forsaken world, he was still in solitude, for he could not communicate with any of them, save for the select few who had happened to pick up universal sign language before the cataclysm. Thoughts beat against his insides, yearning to let loose and communicate with people, but they would have to wait. For now, people gave him strange looks as he passed them by, with an expression that suggested he was rather upset. People were aware of his existence and his origin unless they lived under a rock, yet they never truly knew who he was. They were never really wary around him, because how could a man who can't even communicate with them possibly be deceiving them in some way, yet they mostly avoided contact if only to avoid awkward attempts at communication, save for the occasional "hello" or "thanks." There were few people he could call "friend" in this new world.

After pushing through small crowds, finding the food line from memory, and waiting in said line, occasionally giving dirty looks at a cutter here and there, Egon finally collected his daily rations and found a table where he could sit by himself, unable to spot anyone familiar enough to him. As he began to eat, he thought about the day's training (which for him included learning English,) and looked forward to it. After all, it was one more step on the road to killing Scavengers.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Daniel D. Rupertt,

Day: ???

Time of Day: Noon-ish

____________________________________​

It's been nearly three months since I left the group...I think...Wait...Has it been that long??

Damn it! I wish I hadn't lost those other sheets of paper. Keep misplacing things and it's just- just--

I- I don't know, it's been awhile since I left the others. I've been heading north since I left them. Trying to find a solid place that we can all live in. Trying to find the Tower we used to hear about. Way back when the group was still a group and I could still recognize everyone...

I thought I'd find the Tower by now but...no luck. Was hoping I could get help from them. Get them to help me find the others, bring them back and get them some place safe to live. Start fresh, clean up our wounds but-- Guess I...haven't really been doing a good job...

God, has it always been this hot out?

...I wonder how their doing. I wonder if...if they hate me for doing what I did; leaving. Leaving them behind and all. Especially in the state they were in.

I hope their alright. I hope their all doing okay. Taking care of each other. Can't say I'm doing too well myself. Haven't had a drink of water in nearly two days now and I think I'm starting to hallucinate sparkling ponds of water in this dessert.

Can't even recall why I decided to head in this direction. There's nothing here. Nothing but dirt, rundown buildings and shattered glass. I think I came here in search of food. Judging from my stomach that may be it. Can't remember when the last time I ate even was.

...Damn....looks like this place has people....something smells good....smells like food.

Wonder if they'd be willing to share....don't think I have enough ammo to scare them off... Could be Scavengers...not sure if I have enough to....

I think one of them spotted me...can't see what he's holding, could be a gun....

...Hope Evan and the others are doing better than I am...

 

[JujuBee]

Jerome​

Well fuck.
Just… Holy fucking shit.

For a split second, Jerome had to scold himself for having decided to stay around instead of scampering like the rest. But Reno had certainly caught his interest with her sudden accusation of the woman who had escaped their premises. He also thought that whomever this woman was, was one lucky girl of a gun to get away. Jerome had been wanting to leave this place since day 1 but he certainly had no idea of where to go. He liked to socialize so wandering around alone was a no-go. Plus his tattoo that he’d gotten when becoming a part of such a shit show group wouldn’t fair well over at the Tower.

All in all he was screwed. Fucked.

But Reno at the moment was a lot more fucked than he was.

The blood flowing endlessly down Reno’s face was enough to disgust him yet at the same time it was enchanting. Being a part of the Scavengers meant that blood, guts, and death was something normal. Something regular. In the beginning he’d had trouble trying to deal with it all but he’d grown used to it, he’d adapted as he usually did with situations. But being intrigued? This certainly something new. Now wasn’t the time to think about it though.

Automatically Nadine would be in front of Reno, ushering her towards the medical tent. That was enough for Jerome to jump into action himself. Being the bodyguard of Nadine he’d already had the hunch that this was certainly something he’d ned to interject himself into. Walking past the few bystanders who were watching with as much intrigue or fear as he had been, he’d be right behind the two women. Making sure his walk was just a tad bit more dignified, Jerome would open himself up and throw a warning glance towards whoever would try to intercept the three. When they finally reached the tend he’d be sure to stay by the opening, keeping an eye on the procedure going on behind him as well as making sure no one tried to come in.

One heckler would try to sneak in to see Reno’s condition but Jerome would immediately stop them. His hands would grab their shoulders, jarring them back a step or two as he gave an intimidating look. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-“

“You were doing nothing but walking away.”

“What!? I’m here to see what’s happen-“

Jerome would have no cares interrupting them, pushing them out of the tent and stepping out to follow them in case this became a serious altercation. He’d see they had ate dirt on their way down and were seething. However nothing more would be done and they’d stalk away with promise of a fight later. Jerome would give them a small shrug of indifference before turning around and making his way back in.

“Need anymore help?"

Interacts with: Nadine Nap
Mentions: Meredith ​

 

[Brax]

Jono​

While a gold piece of jewelry had been wrapped around his digits a few times, Jono's eyes had yet to move from its shape. Regardless of the fact that there had been so much going on around him - so much noise - none of it ripped him from the reality of a necklace that had no worth. Even as Reno had been going through her own particularly nasty predicament, the young man would have absolutely no idea. It wasn't as though she had been in his line of sight. On top of that, Jono wasn't the type to foster other beings. He kept his mouth shut and did what he had to do. Of course, Reno was doing the exact opposite and now she was forced to pay the price. Jono in his younger days would have said that she deserved it for even bothering to speak with Salem.

That was exactly why Jono kept his mouth shut. He did not speak unless he was spoken to. If his ultimate goal was to survive, Jono did not have room to speak out of turn. To offer up information good or bad. To say the least, Jono had pondered plenty of times just what would happen to him if Salem was to die by his own hands. Honestly, the man did not have stature at him at all. Salem's fighting experience did not nearly rival his own, and popping his head off his shoulders like popping the pit out of a cherry would be nothing short of ecstasy. However, more times than not, such daydreams often ended with Jono's death. In a world where he was not yet meant to die, the option of Salem's death by Jono was not on the table.

People who spoke to Salem often got what they deserve. He was a classic villain stereotype. Salem took his anger out on his own men, much like a boy does to his mother when he throws a tantrum at a store after she refuses to buy him something. Salem only has power in numbers; he barks because he knows his men will step to his side if all else fails. Take away his bodyguards and Salem would be reduced to rubble. Jono understood this, yet was only one man. A man who did not involve himself in internal matters. One who refused to attempt to climb up the latter in social standing. In the end, Jono was fully aware that his quiet approach to Scavenger life was not much better than Salem's own. Too much barking, or not enough, often equaled out. As much as he might have loathed Salem, Jono understood him.

Yeah, that's right. Jono understood him.

Salem had an iron grip because it's what he needed to maintain in order to keep in control of the savages that made up his collective. Most scavengers that Jono knew were vile pigs without order. When Salem wasn't around, they all did what they want. They saw no prey worth pity, lived their lives without any code of honor. Salem, having seen it all, probably began showing signs of his own ruthless nature at a young age. He was pampered, groomed by the sights of the horrors he committed. His group snowballed into what they were today and after repetition of actions - Salem was barely even human anymore. Did he feel anything but rage?

Jono was not innocent, either. The only way for Jono to survive was to join. He had the genetic make-up. Salem probably thought Jono could have been used in various ways and certainly was not wrong. Jono was just happy he was able to save the lives of the two people that mattered to him. Though, it had not got him very far. Jono understood Salem because, like Jono, Salem was doing what he believed was necessary in order to adjust properly to living in this world. Salem believed that being ruthless was how he would win his game of chess. Jono related easily to that regardless of his personal feelings.

Jono placed the necklace back into his pocket before looking up. Some people had been whispering about. Others running trying to get their errands done. The young man didn't have anything to do but silently people watch, and he was perfectly fine with that.

TLDR; Jono sits in silence and lets Salem run rampant because he doesn't wanna die. Amirite?

 

[Meredith]

Reno
Interactions: Swoob l Nearby: Nadine, Jerome l OOC: Slightly Less Fucking Rip l Location: Med Tent

Well.
On the one hand, there didn't seem to be much pain Reno could feel, whether from shock or.. whatever. She gave Nadine a small smile, leaning back on the table, finally pulling her hand away and trying to angle the blood into the dirt.
"Yeah. Sorry, for.. the mess."

How apt.

She passed out fairly quickly, which wasn't a large surprise, seeing as she was out of it to begin with. Occasionally she could feel, in her half-consciousness, a scrape or some pressure being put on the wound.
As far as she could tell, the good doctor worked quickly.

She came to slowly, feeling a sharp, undignified pain in her face.
She let her hand come up toward her face but was most shocked by the perceived emptiness of her eye socket. It was something she could almost feel, in a strange way, but that.. she didn't want that to stop her.

She began to sit up, eye searching the room for Nadine, speaking before she saw her. "Do you, ahm.."
A small laugh, a grab of her head, and a realization that she should be out in a camp.
"How do you feel about marbles? We could use a nice, I don't know, black one. Or something."

 

[Nap]

music | time: idk like 30-40 mins later | location: Med Tent | interactions: Jerome ( JujuBee ), Reno ( Meredith )| mentions: N/A

Nadine really wanted to take advantage of Reno's unconscious state, but there was only so much she could do without direct lighting on the patient. Her focus kept breaking as she strained her eyes downwards, praying she wasn't making the area worse than it already was. It didn't help that there was some commotion directly outside the tent, the woman assuming Jerome was dealing with some petty onlooker. She'd thought about asking whomever that was to leave and come back later, but that thought proved unnecessary as her guard poked his head through the entryway soon after.

"Need anymore help?" he'd asked.

With an almost relieved sigh, the doctor nodded and placed a piece of gauze on Reno's eye. "I do, actually. Could you angle the tent's fabric so I can get more lighting on her face?"

After making her simple request, the rest of the surgery went by like a breeze. Her hands worked skillfully and quickly to stop the bleeding and remove whatever needed to be removed. A mere thirty minutes passed and she already found herself finishing up the operation. Nadine used a small needle to loosely sew the unconscious girl's eye shut, an old trick for those who want barren eye sockets to heal quickly and to prevent infection. She couldn't recall where she learned the method, which was a bit disturbing since she remembers everything she reads or learns. It was possible that two years of nothingness gave her the "do what you need to do" doctor mindset, which wasn't a surprise because everyone she knew at the camp was like that.

Nadine then wrapped clean cloth around Reno's eye and head, courtesy to there being a lack of appropriate materials for patching. When she finished, she quietly thanked Jerome before turning to clean up her work space and wait for Reno to wake up. Looking down at herself, she frowned slightly at her bloodied attire. It wasn't like her to have so much blood on her clothes due to a small, swift surgery but the first half must have been when she dirtied herself. The lack of lighting really was a problem and for a moment, the woman found herself aching for electricity and everything else that has disappeared.

A faint rustle from behind soon brought her attention to the center of the tent. Reno was slowly regaining her consciousness and from the shock in her uninjured eye, she must've realized what went on during the operation. Nadine offered a calm smile, although her expression remained bleak as always.

"If you find one with this circumference-" she formed a circle with her fingers "-I will gladly show you how to implant it after everything's healed. I also apologize for not being able to salvage your eye. It was too..." Nadine let her voice trail off in a regretful tone before dismissing the topic with the wave of her hand. "As much as I'd like to keep you here to rest, Reno, you should probably get going. Everyone's been restless since the meeting and I'm sure there's a lot that needs to be done."

 

[Gilzar]

Ozzy

Small talk on the stairway subsided, and Ozzy was left in silence again. The two men around him were civilians, and nothing more. Every morning he'd make small talk with them, talking about the simpler things in life and playing the occasional card game or two, but that was all. No real connection of any sort. After all, he was a soldier and they were civilians. In tower culture, that was two very different playing fields. Soldiers like Ozzy himself were at the top of the totem pole-like caste system, farmers were somewhere in the middle, and civilians much like the two Ozzy had sitting next to him on the stairwell were at the bottom. No matter how hard he tried, Ozzy just could not truly relate to these men. None of them had done the things he had for the Tower, nor were they capable. It wasn't a feeling of resentment, but more of pity.

Soldiers have the skills to defend themselves, and to take what they need when necessary. Farmers may not have the fighting skills (Mostly) but they still had the skills to make their own food, which gave them some power. Civilians on the other hand had neither. They have skills, but not the important ones that ensure survival. In all honesty, Ozzy looked at them, and all other civilians of the tower like they were children. Helpless and ignorant of the world around them. He wasn't alone with this feeling. Most other soldiers felt like this, which is why most soldiers only commit themselves socially with other warriors. There was more respect among them.

He knew he stood out on that stair well, sitting with two sheep-like civilians. But out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone else that stood out: Egon. He was sitting alone at a table eating. Not many people talked to him, not because he was a soldier, but because they weren't capable. The strange man spoke only through German (Or at least what sounded like it. Ozzy was no linguist) and sign language. English was not Egon's native tongue, and he knew very little of it. Luckily for him Ozymandias was trained in sign language, thanks to his years in the police force. By no means was he an expert, but he knew enough to communicate with Egon. That's why they were partners, hand selected by the Tower higher-ups.

Ozzy stood up, and walked away from the stairwell. "Oz, where you going man?", one of his acquaintances asked. "I have duties to discuss." He responded, turning just briefly to answer. In reality, he hated seeing someone eat alone just because of a language barrier. No one should be alone in a city with as many people as the tower had.

Ozzy sat himself across from Egon, and waved with a friendly expression. "Hey."

He then moved his hands and signaled in sign language 'How are you?' while also asking it verbally. Hopefully by associating some English with the sign language Egon could start to pick up on some of it.

Sir Galahad II

 

[welian]

Vivian Shaw

When she saw the other man’s knife, she had quietly accepted her inevitable death – it would be some small solace to know that, were Salem to ever recall her existence, that he would not have the personal pleasure of lynching her. Or stabbing her. She had even heard rumors that he ate the placenta of an unborn child and bathed in the blood, but she was mildly certain that was a tall tale told by someone trying to antagonize the weaker souls among the scavengers.

Of course, what actually happened was that this other man, Erik, cut the ropes tying her. She was immensely grateful, but also slightly awestruck – she was one to conserve resources, and to just cut rope instead of untie her seemed like a waste. A kingdom for a nail and all that, she hoped this wouldn't bite him later.

“… Thank you,” Vivian whispered to him, blotting her tears with her shawl. “Which way is Tower?”

She would continue this journey alone, preferably without further violations of personal agency. Although, perhaps if it were just Erik, she would not mind so much. He reminded her of her husband.


Desert Rose TheHangedMan Zahzi

 

[Brax]

Jono​

Pushing himself up off of the ground slowly, Jono was sure to dust himself off. Light hues did a quick search before he began walking from the front of his tent. Couldn't spend all RP sitting around now, could he? As he slowly meandered through the camp nothing seemed to be out of place. A few heads in the medical tent that he could see - namely, Jerome, Nadine and Reno - but just because he knew of those people didn't exactly warrant him popping his head in to see what was going on. Not only was in Jono's style, but it wasn't like him to thrust himself into uncomfortable social situations. While it was none of his business, Jono was still curious. So as he continued to walk naturally his eyes maintained fixated on the tent. Lost in thought, the young man had no idea that he was about to walk into two gentleman. Gentleman? Gentlescavengers. Gentlescavengers? Savages.

It was not possible that these two NPC's could miss Jono as they were walking toward him. They could see he was not paying attention. Instead of moving around the young man, they bumped straight into Jono. Now, Jono was not a small man, but he was not the biggest. These guys were the same size, but obviously had no idea who Jono was. This was the conclusion that he came to due to the fact that these two men had decided to stop and make a big deal out of the situation.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you could just walk into people without saying you-"

WHAM!

Without further comment or warning, Jono had cocked back his fist and slammed it into the jaw of the man who had not yet finished speaking. As his knuckles connected with the Scavenger's jawline, the dread-headed man's knees buckled with pressure before he dropped. It was almost instantaneous. While the scavenger snored rather loudly on the ground, his friend was rather fast to act. Jono watched as the man loaded back a heavy right hand toward his own face. Though, such telegraphed actions were easy to see coming from a mile away. Simply leaning his upper torso back would prove to be fatal for his opponent. Jono practically felt the air brush into his face as the scavenger's knuckles barely skimmed the tip of his nose. Quickly responding, Jono would grab the man by his wrist while immediately sending a right foot into the side of the scavenger's face.

He then wrapped this leg around the man's arm before using his weight to drop the man onto his side. As soon as the scavenger's body hit the dirt, Jono swiftly twisted his body so that he was sitting on top of the man's chest in full-mount. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) No amount of Hail Mary's could save this man from having straight elbows rained into his face. In particular, Jono had used his right elbow to smash into the bridge of the man's nose multiple times - not stopping even when it was broken. Only when the man was close to the brink of death did Jono push himself off of his groaning figure, deep breaths accompanying each of his plaguing thoughts of murder. A small crowd had gathered around Jono at this point. His fists balled to his side, still staring at the man at his feet, Jono could not help but yell at the top of his lungs as a result of the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

 

[Desert Rose]

Jason listened to Trafalgar's explanation of who the woman was and when he asked him to trust her as he had come to trust and accept him he paused a moment. The entire world went dark around him as he heard gun shots and while he could hear Trafalgar's voice he only saw a woman standing before him pleading him to trust her. It was during one of his missions. He ended up giving her trust and in the long run it ended up saving his life along with a few others in his unit.

The sound of rope snapping seemed to snap Jason back in place, back from the gun fire and into the desolate wasteland he now lived in. He looked at Trafalgar carefully and slowly nodded. "Okay." was all he said.

The man turned and eyed Vivian taking in her sobbed pathetic being. "Tower isn't far from here. Our meal is burned... -sorry-" He nodded to Erik before looking back at Vivian "If you can, we can make it to Tower by early light. I'd rather sleep there in a bed than one more night in the dirt. Especially if Trafalgar came upon more scavs. It's best we get back to Tower" he said looking at the three of them before picking up his bag. He knew he was right, he knew that they needed to keep going maybe it was the burnt rabbit or just a gut feeling he didn't know which. There were too many variables, too much he didn't know and one person too many.

(if they decided to follow him). They ended up at Tower at early light and Jason could smell the food from the food line and a breath of relief escaped his chapped lips as he licked them. "I'm going to wash up and get food. Erik the woman is in your hands and no longer my responsibility." Jason muttered and left the group to go do exactly what he just said he would do. He went to his room to put his stuff away and get cleaned up. In all honesty he was still really irritated at the previous day's events. The scav who tried to steal from them killed that lead into an argument with Erik that was interrupted by a woman who invoked his paranoia and then Trafalgar was thrown into the mix. Needless to say he didn't like it.

He didn't like what Trafalgar had to say about Vivian. Perhaps it was just dramatized to make him trust her or at least trust her enough to make it back to Tower, still, no one that useless could survive out here. He had come upon Scavs many times before he ended up with Erik. As much as he was a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy it didn't stop him from taking a few and interrogating the mortally wounded before their death. He didn't trust any Scavs and barely trusted those few who were from the group and entering Tower. Trafalgar was an exception mainly because of his torture that was clearly noticeable also the raw hatred the man had for them. Vivian on the other hand, she didn't seem to have that, she didn't even seem to have any fight in her. Even so, she was no longer his problem. If anyone had to answer for her it would be Erik, and that was that. Jason left the matter at that conclusion and went out to the food lines to get some decent food since they were nearly a day without and he was hungry.

TheHangedMan welian Zahzi