• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Futuristic The Long Winter (IC)

The desk clerk didn't get the opportunity to greet Torben as he arrived. Across the lobby, the door to the stairwell opened and Hannah emerged, on her way to acquire a few more supplies for their upcoming raid. When she saw Torben, she paused and squinted. Characteristically pale, and the way he carried himself suggested he wasn't from around here.

To test her theory, she whistled the first few bars of a song who's name was long forgotten by now, but had once been associated with some sort of competitive sports team from Chicago, legends who walked on ice. Seeing that the tune got a reaction from Torben, she nodded towards the staircase and disappeared into it, letting the door shut behind her. Without bothering to give any further clues, she jogged back upstairs and left the door to their hotel room open. Her explanation to the others was brief - turns out they had another friend.

Once Torben joined, they shut the door once more and filled him in on the operation. Ryan let everyone else do the explaining, as he was more focused on sizing up the new arrival. He'd gotten a hang of everyone else by now, but the new guy garnered his renewed interest. Once the discussion finished, Ryan put his cigarette out.

"We leave in three hours. ArmaLite is fifteen miles out. Aiming to make it there in less than four hours, should put us there around midnight. We appear, we do the job, we disappear. No uniforms, try to make it quiet until the bomb goes off." Ryan said, still leaned up against the wall. "Lets stick it to the Army, alright? Bring that factory crashing down on their heads."
 
Vudukudu Vudukudu
Torben was relieved to be with his comrades, and listened to the charismatic man intently. The mission he described was right up Torben's alley, and he allowed a grim smirk.
"Bastards won't know what hit them, sir," He said, lighting a cigarette. He had forgotten his tiredness in anticipation, and chose to evaluate the squad. A kid in a bed, a blonde chick, the mayor's son, and the rest a motley bunch. The mayor's son seemed like a typical politician; a good talker but preferring to leave the dirty work to others. Torben decided to let his stereotype sit until the mission, then decide the man's mettle. Stealth and savagery was Torben's speciality; he had been doing since he was a child, and the soft army boys would leave little resistance.

Torben took his rifle from his shoulder and leaned it against a table, before speaking again. "Unfortunately, sir, I had little time to collect equipment. Bloody accountants are to blame. Sorry I'm late to the party."
 
Ham was enjoying himself as he sat in the corner and mumbled to himself. Seeing how deep or high pitched her could say his own name. Of course another pastime he devised was naughts and naughts. Played against himself obviously. He never managed to win, for some reason. It was at this point that he was stirred from nearly falling asleep, clasping a rat as a teddy bear, by a woman yelling.

Ham scrambled up to his feet, managing to smack his head into the wall on the way up “Ham!? Ham!” He exclaimed in utter confusion as his rat scuttled away. He was ready to attack but stopped himself when he saw the doctor walk over and talk to the woman. Now, Ham had learnt to trust whatever the doctor did, and so, thought he would help.

Ham scuttled over to the woman and stuck his face a little too close to hers “Ham” he said, trying to show his good will.

Shireling Shireling Crumbli Crumbli
 
Armalite
It was well into the evening when the Metro Republic commandos spotted the lights of the weapons and munitions factory reflecting off the snow. The area was surrounded by a half-buried chain-link fence topped with barbed wire and guard towers with machine guns mounted on the exterior walls were sprinkled every so often around the perimeter. The Metro-dwellers heard a sound they probably had never experienced before, the low rumble of a diesel engine, as a massive, winterized cargo truck plowed its way up to the front gate of the facility. Alarm klaxon sounded and the gate opened to allow the truck into the facility before the gates closed behind them. Examining the area for weaknesses, they found that one of the guard towers was not manned which gave them a very slim blind spot to work with. The area was, however, well-lit. They counted at least fifteen guards toting rifles and an equal number of civilian contractors milling around smoking outside near the warmth of a few industrial electric heaters. Vudukudu Vudukudu ShakinMcBacon ShakinMcBacon

Wasteland, Near Kankakee
On the hill, after picking in the snow a while, Washington finally found the frozen body of Nathan. He had apparently fallen asleep, judging from his eyes being closed, and peacefully passed on to the other world while unconscious. He wasn't there long before he heard the tell-tale sound of boots crunching in the snow. They were coming, he judged, from the north farther into the thicket along the road. Pat Pat
 
Washington just finished cataloging and stashing away the few possessions Nathan had before hearing someone - or, something, approach. Slowly, he cautiously lowered himself to a crouch, and from there to a prone position, the soldier going on to rest the barrel of his M16A4 on the body of his deceased traveling companion. The safety promptly flicked off and aimed towards the general direction of the ever-nearing sound.
 
Lindsey McGregor, Kankakee trading outpost.
Shireling Shireling KindlyPlagueDoctor KindlyPlagueDoctor

The man holds out to her what appeared to be her stuffed toy. The only Tiggles she could catch. She hesitantly raises her hand from the chair and grabs at it, snatching it from his palm and pulling it close as soon as she could. The rough fabric of the stuffed toy makes soft scratching sounds as it pulls against the marginally softer fabric of the thin prewar surgical gown. A number of stiches cover the gown's front and and left hand side, likely due to time, moths, fighting, or an unfortunate combination of all three.
She looks up at the doctor and then back to her stuffed toy. He wasn't someone she trusted yet, but he clearly didn't intend to harm her. His eyes dart to the drawers and hers are quick to follow. Learning her clothes are there, she's slow to act upon the prompt. Perhaps he wanted her to change back into her clothes, or perhaps he was attempting to get the jump on her like she'd fail to do him. After all, the last person she saw with a needle waited until her back was turned.


The mutated creature, named Ham, began yelling its name over and over. Lindsey looks over at the creature and stares dumbfounded by its inability to perform a simple task such as getting up without harming itself. It climbs onto the bed she'd been sleeping on and leans off the edge towards her. It sticks its face close to hers. So close she can feel her breathe wash back from the reeking creature and into her nose. It was foul. She raises a hand to its face and gently tries to push it away, hoping the creature wouldn't become provoked by her actions.
Skin of the same kind or no, it was disgusting and in desperate need of a bath. Even Lindsey bathed fairly regularly. Melted ice, heated water, sure it wasn't the best but it kept her from stinking like this thing. She winces as it breathes back at her, the stench of its mouth stinking worse than the thawing of the corpse fields. She pulls her head to the side, facing the doctor, and sticks her tongue out as if to signify the stench too much.
 
Ryan was outside his comfort zone. He was in-shape, and knew how to use the revolver strapped to his hip, but this was Hannah's operation. As much as he knew she was better suited to this, he didn't like feeling as if he didn't have control. Put him in a crowd and he'd work it into a mob. Out here? Different story.

Hannah kept her voice low and quiet, and they were still well outside earshot of the facility. Tucked behind a low hill, they were also essentially invisible. "You all know the drill." She said simply. Around her, the gathered squad checked their weapons for problems, then fitted them with what Metro soldiers jokingly referred to as the "Surface Surprise." A tube made of a light aluminum frame or some plastic, it was fitted over the barrel with a little clip. It was the closest thing anyone had these days to a suppressor, and it was only good for a shot or two before the thing fell apart, but Metro soldiers never left home without one - the tactical advantage one gained by cloaking the first muzzle flash and making the sound harder to trace was enough to warrant the ten seconds it took to mount the thing.

The second step after weapons checking was masking up. Some had the fortune to have brought balaclavas, and the rest resorted to smearing some mud and grime on their cheeks and jaws. They knew they were physically distinguishable from most Surfacers, and it paid to look the part. Even in the dark, it was worth the investment. By the end of their three minutes of preparation, they looked like a fairly regular band of scavengers or bandits.

With prep done, Hannah spoke once more. "Remember, one shot out of the tube and dump it. We'll collect them later. Just make that first shot count." She started. "We've got fifteen targets minimum. Nine of us, but don't count on Ryan to hit a damn thing, so we'll say eight. We drop seven of them at the whistle, that puts us on pretty even odds. They'll be surprised, caught with their pants down, and my guess is they're rookies. Anyone worth their uniform would probably be posted in the city, where they'd be useful." She continued. There were nods all around. They weren't a high-ranking bunch, but the tunnel-men were killers through and through. Veteran status to them just meant you'd survived three patrols in the city.

Hannah turned to Torben. She'd heard of his work before, and she was glad he was here. "Torb, you're the ace in the hole. We can't move the whole squad to the empty tower. I want you in it. Keep low and move fast. If you can't scale it, find a target through the fence and track 'em. Sergeant, take Sarah, Victor, and Isaac with you around the east side. Get into the snow somewhere dark and wait for the signal. Rest of you are with me. Ryan, stay back until the shooting starts, then stay in cover. No bodies today." She concluded. Everyone else echoed the final phrase.

Ryan put on a grin and pushed the cylinder back into his revolver. "Well lads? Give 'em hell."

With their orders given, the commandos rose to a crouch and fanned out, moving to lock down the facility with overlapping fields of fire. They stuck to the dark, and moved like ghosts through the snow.

ShakinMcBacon ShakinMcBacon
 
Torben advanced in a crouch, and the rush of calmness he felt before a potential fight came. His face was smeared with mud, and the scar made for a haunting image in the darkness. He made his way to the foot of the tower. The tower was constructed from a combination of rebar and wood, making it fairly easy to climb. Slinging his rifle onto his back, he made the harrowing climb up. His bare hands felt like ice against the cold metal, but he made his way onto the platform. Unslinging his rifle, he stayed in a crouch and listened for any shouts of alarm or questioning calls. None came, so he peered over the edge. He spotted a few groups of workers huddled around heaters, and a small amount of guards doing the same. One or two patrolled about the complex, and he spotted the dark silhouette of a guard in each of the other towers, with the tiny glow of a cigarette coming from one. The mission seemed like a breeze until Torben felt a small vibration through the rickety tower. Someone was coming up the ladder, and without a word Torben drew his bayonet, and sat crouched by the top, waiting like a fox near a rabbit hole. He waited until the man's torso was up and his legs awkwardly climbing up before he struck. Punching the blade into the man's neck, he muffled the man's choking yell and pulled him bodily up. The man struggled briefly, then fell still. Torben rifled through his victim's pockets, but froze suddenly.

"Feels like this bloody thing is gonna fall down any day," He heard a voice come from below, and the tower vibrated once more as another soldier climbed up. "Eh? Did you hear what I said?" The man's head poked up, and Torben immediately picked him up by the shoulders and pulled him up. Unlike the previous, the man put up much more of a fight, landing an elbow in Torben's face and knocking the knife away. Torben swore and wrapped his arm around the man's neck, pulling with all the strength he could muster. Kicking loudly, the man clawed at Torben's face, scratching his face until a low pop in the man's neck was heard, and the body slumped over. However, the struggle did not go unnoticed and Torben heard questions being called up. Shoving the body aside, he picked up his rifle, sighted on the orange glow across from him, and fired.
Vudukudu Vudukudu
 
Emperor Hotel
"That's enough, Ham," Elias said, gently tugging on the mutant's shirt to get him to back up a bit from Lindsey. Elias walked over to the bureau and took out Lindsey's clothes, setting them on one of the room's accent chairs and pointing towards the bathroom. "You can get changed in there," he explained, before adding, "the clinic has discharged you into my care. I don't know your name, where you're from, or anything like that but we have a long way to go to the Temple of the Line. That's where I'm taking Ham," the doctor looked towards the aforementioned creature, crestfallen like a boy who has to leave his family pet behind, "he deserves to be with his own kind, and the Travelers will take care of him."

"You can take your chances in the wasteland," he said, cleaning his glasses on his sweater, "or you can come with us, and get the care you need. You're a paranoid schizophrenic, and you won't survive long among other people without medical treatment." He looked towards Lindsey emphatically and awaited her response.

KindlyPlagueDoctor KindlyPlagueDoctor Crumbli Crumbli

Wasteland Near Kankakee
In the brush emerged a small party down the sight's of Washington's gun. The leader was a man in a priestly cassock with a preacher's collar. He had fine greyish-blonde hair and carried a pack over his shoulder, tennis rackets tied to his shoes as makeshift snow-shoes. Then came three women in typical wastelander garb, remarkable because they were by post-apocalyptic standards quite attractive. Behind them was another man, dressed in a black wool coat underneath a bullet-proof vest and trousers with proper snow boots. He carried a rifle over his back and led a large horse laid down with equipment by the reigns. They had not noticed Washington yet.

Pat Pat

Armalite
As Torben worked, a few of the soldiers patrolling noticed the commotion caused by the second fight in the tower. One of them raised his rifle and began to sound the alarm when...from the darkness shots rippled through the exterior of the complex, finding targets and dropping them with well-timed precision. By the time half of the exterior guards were killed or wounded, the workers realized they were in danger and scattered in all directions. Some ran inside the double doors into the factory and began attempting to shut and bar the doors. Others ran into the darkness and unwittingly towards their assailants attempting to escape. Six more uniformed soldiers emerged from side doors, but without any usable cover they realized they were sitting ducks and did the best they could to scramble behind the large truck, whose driver had just abandoned it and run inside the facility. None of them really had an idea where they were being attacked from, and the quick intercession of the rest of the Metro squad had ensured that Torben remained unnoticed in the tower. As the firefight began, the distinctive crack of a high-powered rifle pierced the air and one of the Metro troops that was a little too close to the lights of the facility was instantly killed. There was a sniper on the roof of the facility that they had not yet spotted.

Vudukudu Vudukudu ShakinMcBacon ShakinMcBacon
 
Ryan had stayed behind far enough to keep a decent view of what was happening. Just as planned, Torben scaled the tower, though he took his time signalling he was ready. It worried him, but not as much as the near simultaneous series of rifle cracks. Damn it! He was no use back here with just a revolver. Even so, he un-holstered the pistol and kept an eye out. He'd seen which way everyone moved, and his eyes were well-adjusted enough to the darkness that he could still barely identify people who were in line of sight.

When the sniper shot echoed through the air, his heart raced as he scanned his troops. Then, it dropped. He found the gap in the line, and it was where Quinn had just been. He wasn't near enough to the gunfire to have trouble hearing, but his world fell silent all the same. He found his hands clenched, one into a fist and the other gripping the pistol grip so tightly it quivered. He shouldn't have let her come. But then it would just have been somebody else, wouldn't it? This wasn't their kind of fight. In the Metro, you fought on one level. You didn't have to worry about snipers or being shot at from above unless you went outside. The problem was, the Metro had long ago made a point of holding rooftops. They were the snipers, not the targets. They weren't used to that being reversed, and because he hadn't planned for it, someone was dead. Quinn was dead.

Once the ambush had been broken, Hannah barked orders. Quinn was in her squad, and she had seen her go down. From what she saw, her head was still intact, so it must have been a body shot. That said, she wasn't moving, and Hannah assumed the worst. "Suppress and move to cover! Torben, clear that fucking rooftop!" She called out, relying on their man in the watch tower to keep the rest of them alive. He'd be the only one with a reasonable angle. The remainder of her squad shifted for solid cover, Hannah popping bursts off at the sniper while the others lit up the truck.

On the other end of the compound, there was a loud thump and some screaming. One of the Metro boys, the Sergeant probably, had pitched a nail-bomb behind the cover some soldiers were using. Probably only killed one of them, but she wouldn't be surprised if the rest were out of the fight. Those things tended to put a man in medical care, and no one came out of it looking as pretty as they used to. Sensing a gap in the fire, the other squad pushed in and raked the survivors with a quick salvo. The pained screams stopped, leaving only a handful of Army troops and the sniper left.

ShakinMcBacon ShakinMcBacon
 
Torben crouched back down after he fired, and analyzed the situation closely. The sharp crack of the sniper roused him, and he placed his barrel on the tower's rail, scanning the rooftop. It was dark, but he could just barely make out a dark shape perched upon the edge. Steadying his aim, he fired two shots quickly, and the shape suddenly moved back. Whether he hit them or not he didn't know, so he waited, counting the seconds by. He heard a bomb go off below, and saw a brief flash of light from the roof and another loud crack. He felt a sharp passing of wind by his ear, and heard something strike the planking behind him. The sniper had spotted him, and he fired a couple rounds at the new position, then wrenched off the makeshift suppressor, stuffing it in his pocket and firing again. Again he waited, expecting another shot to come, when he saw a scoped rifle come spiralling down. He thought he could make out a red sheen on it, but couldn't be sure from the distance. Which shot hit was unknown, but they were either dead or wounded, and thus out of the picture. Shifting his gaze down again, he saw the workers rushing inside the building.

"Bastards are holed up inside!" He shouted down to Hannah, and retrieved his bayonet in the momentary lull. Firing off a couple rounds at the door to keep them scared, he made sure the other watchtowers were empty. The ones he could see were, and presumably those in them hadn't stuck around for the fight. It was suddenly quite quiet, and the remaining soldiers, if there were any at all, were likely hiding. He spat blood off the tower, and waved to signal it was clear for the rest of the squad. But as he waved, he heard a shot and a sudden burst of pain in his hand. Swearing vehemently, he fell back to a crouch, quickly examined the bloody stump of his left ring finger, and found the shooter to be a head peeking above the rail of another tower he had thought empty. Out of anger, Torben poured the rest of the magazine at the tower, and heard a brief scream of pain once he stopped. He pressed his finger against his coat to stop the bleeding, adding more blood to the mess already splattered across him from the initial encounter.
Vudukudu Vudukudu
 
The rest of the fighting was brief. The remaining Metro commandos whisked like phantoms through the yard, flushing out what little resistance remained. They'd mourn over Quinn later - for now, it was time to finish the job. The last few active Army soldiers outside were tracked down and flanked until they were killed or surrendered. Any who put their hands up were going to be shot anyway, though that didn't stop the Metro soldiers from suggesting they surrender.

Hannah hadn't left her spot at the fence, maintaining overwatch and guarding Quinn's body. She heard snow crunching behind her and whipped around, only to find her gun leveled at her brother's chest. "Fuck me, Ryan. Trying to get killed?" She grunted. Her choice of words hit her a little late when she remembered who's body was slowly freezing in the grass next to her. "Shit, Ry, I'm sorry." She whispered.

Ryan bit his tongue, stopping the harsh response that had come to mind and swallowing the words back down. "Just.. get in there and finish the job, sis." He muttered, crouching down next to Quinn. He rolled her over onto her back, and saw where the bullet had hit. Angled downwards, it had come in right over her clavicle and punched down, probably through her lung. It looked like it had been quick, at least. He brushed some of the snow off her face, closed her eyes, and picked the silver bracelet off her left wrist. He pocketed it, then picked up her gun and ducked into the factory yard.

Hannah had stood up and entered the compound when Ryan had ordered, knowing it was better to leave him alone for now. She ordered the others around as they gathered up the civilians who had hidden outside. One soldier remained to guard them, and the rest breached the actual factory itself. There were only a dozen more shots before they deemed the place clear, and the contractors who had attempted to barricade themselves inside were herded out at gunpoint. Everything that could be looted was, from weapon part casts to ammo and guns, before the smashing started. Machinery was dismantled, power cables were cut, and anything that could be broken was roughed up. None of them were familiar with exactly how the truck worked, but once they figured out the hood could be opened they pulled out whatever they could and hurled it outside the compound.

It was going to be hard to make this look like anything less than a surgical strike, but at bare minimum they'd managed to wreck an Army factory. They stripped the shirt off every Army corpse they could find, then lashed the corpses to the chainlink fences before slitting their throats for dramatic effect. The sniper, once they'd figured out how to get to the roof, was crucified in the center of the yard using tools from within the factory. When the Army realized what happened, guessing it was Kankakee was out of the question. The Confederacy, however, was a pretty solid bet.

They left with Quinn's body after bandaging Torben's hand, leaving the contractors confused and shell-shocked behind them. Once they'd stripped her body of anything potentially identifying her, they looked for options to get rid of her body. Burying her was impossible - the ground was hard, and they didn't have a shovel. Instead, they cleared some space in the snow, gathered any dry-ish combustibles they could find, and doused her with some lighter fluid before setting her alight. They waited briefly to make sure the flame would do its work, then left before anyone feeling opportunistic could see what was going on. They had a few hours march ahead of them, through the dark of night, and nobody was planning on stopping until they returned to Kankakee.
 
Washington whistled and slowly rose to his feet, keeping the barrel of his M16A4 between the five potential targets and prepared to focus a burst of lead on any of the party who dared make a move. "Private First Class George Washington, U.S. Army Scout," he rapidly identified himself, "I don't aim to take from or bring harm to your group, but if you're willing and able to converse, I would like to ask if all your members walk with you of their own volition and make an enquiry to purchase any useful information you may collectively possess of this region's secessionists and slavers before you all head on to where you're going."
 
Lindsey McGregor, Kankakee trading outpost.
Shireling Shireling KindlyPlagueDoctor KindlyPlagueDoctor

Her eyes track the man as he tugs on the creature's clothes and walks away. He was assertive, controlling, but calm and collected. Not too unlike some of the raiders she'd met. A specific raider comes to mind, the name and thoughts staying in her mouth. A strange sensation to be sure. Her eyes stalk him with her body unmoving now she had her stuffed toy. He lays out her clothes and points towards the bathroom. She didn't need him to say anything else. She was familiar with how to get dressed. She walks past the two and swoops in on her clothes moving rather lethargically as she goes. The cleaned rags feel somewhat alien in her hands after spending so long in their dirtied state.


She enters the bathroom and begins to change, closing the door behind her. She carelessly dumps her cleaned gowns into what appeared to be a basin of sorts before stripping off the gown she'd been placed into by the medical staff. She pulls it over her head and throws it away out of sight. She then begins to throw on as many layers of her old clothes as she can. The full body coveralls and the boots fit her well, and the gloves she slides on afterwards seal her off from the world excluding her always exposed left arm. She walks out of the room rolling her neck to stretch and looks at the man and his mutant. She didn't like feeling like this. Sure her words could stay inside her mouth but she hadn't seen the tiggles yet nor had she felt anything other than mild annoyance and confusion.

The current carer looks at her with naked eyes. She watches the way his fingers rub the fabric of his jumper against the glass of his eye wear. She never understood why some people wore those. Every time she tried it'd give her a headache. "Big words, lots of them, not weak." She looks around the room for her axe as without it she knew she'd surely die to the cold or anything else they encounter, especially with the weariness still plaguing her. She holds her hand against her temple and shakes her head from side to side as if purging herself of a headache. "Father has faith. Walked the line. The line on the whispering sands. Carolina."
"No more stones. No more tired. Okay?"
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top