ukonvasara
doused
When the infection first spread, it found notoriety as little more than a hashtag on social media. #HARBINGER; contents of which displayed video documentation of almost exclusively amateur quality, depicting the afflicted in a variety of situations from every corner of the U.S, often portraying them in a light that more than implied they were people to be feared.
Or not even people at all.
Thirty years later, these videos no longer exist, because the internet itself exists only as a concept of the past. Proud cities stand only as ruined vestiges to a civilization that once was, before falling into disarray, where only survivors of the old and new world exist, beside those who wander as violent husks of their former selves. Most, if not all, forms of communication are made through radio signals, often deployed on a public airwave for any individual in possession of a radio to pick up, acting as something of a quest board for the locals.
Today, Judith was one of these people. In response to a distress call summoning any person brave enough to storm an abandoned building, loaded with armed guards and retrieve a 'precious package' of theirs, she didn't waste a moment to wonder. Assuming it was legitimate, there would be plenty of others rushing to get there before her. And if not, then it was a complete waste of time for every person involved. But with her supplies being as low as they were, it was a gamble she was willing to make.
And it almost cost her life. But not quite. Most that stormed the building beside her weren't exactly sharpshooters by nature, which just meant they were perfect meat for the grinder, and though the bleeding hole in her shoulder meant they got lucky once, she didn't need luck to shoot them back. It was only by fortune that she came upon this 'prized package', holed away in a room on the third floor that was probably meant to be sealed off, until part of the wall had collapsed on both sides. From there her hand-gun was already raised, wavering slightly in the air from exhaustion, as she approached this woman slowly, apprehensive of her intentions.
"Are you Rachel Bach?"
peachycider
Or not even people at all.
Thirty years later, these videos no longer exist, because the internet itself exists only as a concept of the past. Proud cities stand only as ruined vestiges to a civilization that once was, before falling into disarray, where only survivors of the old and new world exist, beside those who wander as violent husks of their former selves. Most, if not all, forms of communication are made through radio signals, often deployed on a public airwave for any individual in possession of a radio to pick up, acting as something of a quest board for the locals.
Today, Judith was one of these people. In response to a distress call summoning any person brave enough to storm an abandoned building, loaded with armed guards and retrieve a 'precious package' of theirs, she didn't waste a moment to wonder. Assuming it was legitimate, there would be plenty of others rushing to get there before her. And if not, then it was a complete waste of time for every person involved. But with her supplies being as low as they were, it was a gamble she was willing to make.
And it almost cost her life. But not quite. Most that stormed the building beside her weren't exactly sharpshooters by nature, which just meant they were perfect meat for the grinder, and though the bleeding hole in her shoulder meant they got lucky once, she didn't need luck to shoot them back. It was only by fortune that she came upon this 'prized package', holed away in a room on the third floor that was probably meant to be sealed off, until part of the wall had collapsed on both sides. From there her hand-gun was already raised, wavering slightly in the air from exhaustion, as she approached this woman slowly, apprehensive of her intentions.
"Are you Rachel Bach?"
peachycider
