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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Aug 26, 2007 1:44:52 GMT -5
In the year 2981, World War IV finally broke out. Earth seemed to be finalizing her death sentence since industry began. The world governments joined into two enemy empires, over controllers and "peace makers". The U.N. was completely destroyed. In just eight years, over five billion people were gone.
In the year 2991, it all ended. The surviving population was mostly under the age of 16. Out of the only three thousand human beings left on Earth, about 900 of them are adults. Now what's left find it hard to concentrate on rebuilding life as objects have appeared in the day and night skies.
It is now the year 3005. There are colonies of "Post Creatures(the aliens that showed up after WWIV)" set up near the largest group of survivors(New York, London, Tokyo, etc.), but not many have the guts to approach them because they don't know if they be friendly or not. They have been seen up close, though. They have a feathery body which is mostly blue and stand about eight feet tall.
We are in Old New York. The city is still in ruins and it rains very frequently, sometimes three times a day.
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Aug 26, 2007 2:13:13 GMT -5
Kenya stood on the highest level of what used to be a twelve story building. It now stood six stories high with no roof. She looked down at the dark street through a wide crack in the wall. Her choppy red hair poked at her eyes, so her head wasn't faced down for long. Pulling back from the wall, she slowly walked across the creaky floor. There wasn't much for the eighteen year old girl to do around... town. She wandered often from building to building, searching for anything interesting or of value. At the moment, she thought the floor was going to break with every step she took. The buildings left on this side of the street had a perfect view of the Post Creature colony a few miles away. You couldn't see many of them, but their buildings were a shiny thing to look at. As of now, the dusk sun added an unreal look to that colony. It looked a bit like a painting.
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Post by Malum on Aug 26, 2007 2:38:14 GMT -5
A figure walked down an alley near Kenya. The man was broadshouldered, tall, and very muscular. When he walked into the red light of the ethereal sunset (made more alien by the reflections of the Post Creature colony) it was revealed that he wore a tattered white t-shirt without any logo, a pair of military-grade camoflauge pants, which becaming basically invisible when activated (though this wasn't of much use without the rest of the outfit), and a pair of dogtags. It was obvious this man was somehow linked to the army, though all of the world's soldiers were dead.
The man's hair was short, only a couple of inches long, and jet black. He had some asian deep within his roots which gave his hair this color. The man's eyes were intensly green. This was a result of many years of genetic altering of his father's DNA. He carried with him several strange quarks because of his heritage and his ancestor's tendancies to screw with the genetic code.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, the man approached the girl who was staring at the alien city. "Whatcha doin?"
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Aug 26, 2007 2:54:54 GMT -5
Kenya sharply turned as the man approached. "Nothin... Just watching them." She pointed the way she had been looking. "You?"
She looked around to see if anyone else could possibly be around. She didn't hear him approach. Kenya didn't like being surprised, though it happened often to her. She put on an un-bothered face as she leaned back against a tall post of metal. It was shaky. You couldn't trust any part of the building, she found. It still held her, though. She glanced out at the distant buildings again. She wondered how often they came into Old New York.
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Post by Malum on Aug 26, 2007 23:49:53 GMT -5
"Nothing much," he drawled in his southern accent. "What is there left to do on this God forsaken rock of a planet anyway?"
He turned his head toward the alien colony. He had always wanted to go in there, as many humans had, but there was no reason too, and he was sure they would kill him if he tried. Besides, Earth was still interesting outside of the Post Creature colonies. This girl was a prime example. Alone. Lost. Wandering.
She would be a good start for him.
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Aug 27, 2007 0:07:47 GMT -5
"I dunno. Look for useless valuables around the city? They make nifty belts." She displayed her belt, full of old bottle caps and coins and scraps of metal. "Or.. check them out." Kenya wondered if the Post Creatures are hostile. She really wanted to go out there, but didn't have guts like any-everyone else. The post she was on leaned leaned over some more and snapped, putting her on the floor. This building was one she'd not come into very often.
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Post by yuri on Aug 27, 2007 4:15:39 GMT -5
Grassi Concorigan, formerly Abdul Razak, looked out over his relatively small farm, he'd done well for himself in the apocalypse here, he'd prepared well, and come up with the brilliant solution he needed for the inevitable poverty and horror that the world now faced. He'd hoarded fertilizer and, believe it or not, topsoil, aswell as seeds and water, and now he grew zucchini and watermelon, the rest of the crops had failed horridly, but those two took well, for which he was glad, he laughed inwardly at the absurdity of it, the building he had taken over was previously an impound lot, so he had a two-story office to call home and a decently sized secure lot to house his little farm, thankfully, the crops that lived grew like no-one's business, and he could easily harvest the whole field (which was about four hectares), once every two months, which gave him more than enough food for himself, even if it was primarily watermelon, zucchini and canned food he'd saved, the rest he could trade for, a sign on the gate to the lot inviting those that were seeking trade inside to discuss matters with him personally.
On the other hand, he also sold weapons, it was more in tune with who he, Abdul Razak, truly was, the farm, while brilliant, was just a front, he could not, try as he might, avoid the real calling he had in life, which was to profit off the misery of others by selling weapons and ammunition, he had a veritable stockpile in the basement of the impound lot come farm, that was not advertised, only passed on by word of mouth and only to those he trusted, and those they trusted in turn. Anyone who came to his door and quoted the line "I wish to inquire about those smallest of Cucumbers" would be shown to the real show-room below, not only did he stock guns these days, he carefully fashioned spears and knives aswell, and was working on making a reliable crossbow, with the world the way it was, that would come in handy as a budget alternatve...
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Post by Malum on Aug 27, 2007 17:58:35 GMT -5
"What do you say we go find some food, I'm starving," the man said. "I'm Arcturus Jones, by the way. But you can call me Archy." His southern drawl was thick, laced into his words. He offered a dirty hand out to her. He tried not to make it seem like a big deal, but he knew it was. Trusting wasn't easy these days, especially for the younger kids.
"I know where a herd of deer graze. I found 'em the other day. Why don't we see what we can do?"
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Aug 27, 2007 20:10:54 GMT -5
"Kenya Nikt. Never really had a nickname..." She shook his hand and smiled at the thick accent of his. She had never heard one like it before. "Food is good. Be careful where you step though. Might fall through the floor." She took a careful step to the side, making sure she wouldn't fall to the floor below.
"Deer? I have never had deer be- No!." She was half way across the floor before the was a harsh crack and she was no longer level with Archy. Now, she sat on her butt, looking at the whole above her. "Well... four more to go."
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Post by Malum on Aug 29, 2007 10:54:43 GMT -5
Archy looked down at this Kenya Nikt girl with a grin. She seemed a little lightheaded, maybe still more of a child than survivor of the apocolypse. But she would do. Anyone would really, for Archy's little get together plans. He needed everyone he could find, no matter how incompetent they were.
He came to her side using the stairs, which weren't much safer than the floor. "I guess not it couldn't take the weight of both of us," he said meaninglessly.
"Come on, I need to go pick up something from a friend before we go hunting," the young man helped her to her feet.
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Sept 1, 2007 22:50:37 GMT -5
"The floor... huh. That's called irony. I was expecting you to fall." She brushed herself off and gave a smile as she began toward the stairwell.
"So, do you know how many people are in this city? I've only seen about a hundred." The steps were sturdy, unlike the rest of the place. She was quick to go down.
(Shortness x.x)
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Post by rafter169 on Sept 1, 2007 23:08:55 GMT -5
David Kessler sat in a small ruined pub on a side street. He was sitting on the bar after brushing ceiling and debris away. He had lit a small fire in a plastic bowel. Allthought the fumes were rather intoxicating, it was warmth.
His Impact rifle was more for show then anything. He hadnt found any rounds for it in a few good weeks. Its long barrel and complicated rear were matt black as so not to create shine. There was a small sights system mounted near the butt. A square magazine that was nearly empty was situated behind the pistol grip and trigger.
He sat in dark dirty fatigues, and had his hood up. Not many of his kind were left, those that had actually bothered to sign up to keep the peace after the fighting. Part of a localised government. In all honesty though, society had broken down. He was far away from home in England. He had been sent to the "New" New York to keep an eye with other units on the alien race.
Most had deserted into criminal gangs. Or been killed trying to restore order.
He had been told only three thousand people now lived on Earth, yet there was no way to make a census. Whore sprouted sprogs like clockwork and the gangs and make shift militias killed many more on a daily basis.
Get aslight craving he reached a ruined mittened hand into his stash pocket and prodced a white vial. Unscrewing the stop his sniffed the salts from out of it and chicked the expended case onto the floor where it cracked. There was plenty o Virvidium on the black market to go around. Much more if you dared to go into the old battle grounds. Soldiers had used the Super Drug to keep them fighting for not jsut one or two days, but for weeks.
David hadnt much yet, but, as aside thought realised it was good countless billions on each side had died. That would of been allot of addicts to ween back into society.
As the fire crackled away he thought yet again of home.
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Post by Malum on Sept 8, 2007 13:40:13 GMT -5
"I know a few," Archy said, following her heavy steps down the stairs. "But I know of many more. There are at least two hundred who live here."
Once they were out of the building Archy began leading the way. He took the girl down a few alleys and mossed-over vehicles and streets until they reached an old office building. Behind it was a lush, oasis of a farm.
"My friend, Mr Concorigan lives here," Archy said, stepping up to the door and knocking.
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Post by yuri on Sept 9, 2007 4:47:55 GMT -5
Grassi was in one of the offices on the bottom level of the small office building, he was sitting near a large window, which, by some unknown mercy, remained unbroken, as in the other windows that made up his home; he inhabited the five rooms with unbroken windows, windows that had been painstakingly covered with clear tape in an effort to increase their life, though a few were cracked in places, his dwelling remained free of irritating gusts, and also quite secure, all the local gangs and ruffians knew messing with him or his farm, and especially his other wares, resulted in a rather nasty death, or maiming, he didn't play around, this was survival, and the law in his little four hectare kingdom was harsh. He was reading the Koran as he reclined in an office chair, every day, he thanked the Great Merciful One that he had been blessed with such comparatively comfortable lifestyle during the apocalypse and after it.
A knock on the office's boarded-up front doors roused him from his thoughts, he set his holy book down and got up, moving over to it, he opened it freely, without peeking out though a peephole or anything, he trusted his own reputation as a kind man to keep him from harm, not to mention his reputation as a dangerous adversary, even before his alternate life was taken into account
"Ahhh, Archibald" Grassi beamed, smiling widely, he was very clearly middle-eastern in accent, even if his name was totally opposite "My good friend, what can I be doing for you and your charge this day" he said, he stood in the doorway, blocking entry with his body, but still seeming utterly friendly
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Post by ♥Lar Rackell♥ on Sept 10, 2007 19:51:26 GMT -5
Kenya stood slightly behind Archy. She was ready to disappear if it seemed like a smart thing to do when the door was opened. But still, her stance looked like she wasn't ready to high-tail it out of there. She didn't know what was coming next, as always these days, and even though Archy knew... did he really?
The greeting given by Mr. Concorigan was quite not what she had expected. She expected some comepletely denying, ugly, scar faced man quickly shoving a huge gun in their faces. With what was really given, her bottom lip pushed up and gave her a lopsided look on her face.
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