Gonzalez
Sonny, I Watched the Vault Bein' Built!
Save a sit for me here. I am gaining more interest in this new roleplay.
Empty World OC-
- Thread starter welsh
- Start date
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Sonny, I Watched the Vault Bein' Built!
welsh
Junkmaster
YOu've got a seat.
Nice first one Krakow. Again, we need to find our location. Let's say by Monday we decide and start posting up.
Nice first one Krakow. Again, we need to find our location. Let's say by Monday we decide and start posting up.
welsh
Junkmaster
Ok, first post for me as well.
It's all first draft stuff really. And let's try to keep to third person to avoid confusion.
Sarah looked up at the stain glass of church and felt the bath of colors against her brown skin.
So many years ago her momma had taken her to the church and she had felt the touch of something more. But she could recollect those memories which slipped away from her like memories of dreams and it had been so awfully long since she felt that spiritual sensation. She had come in hope of finding more, but perhaps God had checked out of the world with most of the people.
Without thinking about she had brought her shopping cart into the church and it waited patiently for her next to the pew. She guarded over the cart for so long that her instinct to defend her few possessions had not yet deserted her. She had pushed her cart up 23 blocks, up old brick stairwells from underneath, over empty streets, and had seen no one. Save for the sound of on occasional dog’s bark or a cat’s meow, the city had been as quiet as grave.
She spent an hour on her knees searching her memory for some kind of prayer. But it had been so long since she’d come to a house of god that she knew no words to speak. Perhaps when she had left her faith in God, God’s words had left her and now they were beyond her reach. Yet she tried.
“Our Father, you art in heaven, hollow be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as is in heaven…” Then she’d forget though she remembered there was something about ‘forgive us our trespasses” and “lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”
But that didn’t seem to work and so she tried another. “Hail Mary, full of Grace, the lord is with thee, blessed art thou….. blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Hail Mary, mother of God, prayer for us sinner, now and at the final hour.” Or something like that.
Her thoughts of the fruit of the womb made her think of the dream she’d had right before wakin’ up.
He’d come to her like he was before Daniel got to him, still a child, only 5. So adorably cute and wearing his favorite sports shirt, all big brown eyes and short curly hair. And as usual her heart just melted to see him and she could feel the tears in her eyes fill with tears for the love she felt for the boy. And, God help her, but in those tears she also felt the sting of hatred for Marcus. Marcus, her husband, who had killed the boy under his own belt, who she had once loved more than her life and who she in turn had killed out of anger and sadness and madness. Yet Marcus and Daniel had not quite died, for both still visited many a nights when she slept beneath the cold land.
Daniel had been playing with his ball and he looked up at her with thought big brown eyes that so forever and would never see age, and said, “Momma it’s all changed.”
“What’s change my little love.” As she had so often called him.
“The world, Momma, the whole world is different.” He said.
“How’s it change, my little love?”
“Be careful, momma, the boogiemen is afta you.” He said.
“Tha’s all just a dream, child. Ain’t no boogiemen. Ain’t real.”
“Ain’t no dif.”
“I don’t understand, what’s real and what’s dream?”
From behind her she heard the barking and snorting rising up through the tunnels.
Daniel, frozen, his voice turn desperate. “Wake up momma, wake up.”
Then she saw into the darkness, the lights coming up the tunnels from below and she knew them. The tunnel monsters that walked like men but had twisted faces with fangs, who swung the batons which broke bones. She turned back for Daniel and reached for his hand, but he was already running away towards a distant light.
“Daniel, don’t leave mommy.” She cried out.
“I already have momma.” He called back and then vanished in the light.
Behind her she could feel their breath on her back, rancid and wicked. She could smell the stench of the hounds that were so desperate to bite. But before she felt the batons hit her bones, her eyes opened.
For a moment she lay there beneath the coats she had found in a dumpster, frozen in fearful expectation of the pain to be delivered. The moment, patient with dread, hung on for almost half an hour before she realized she’d just been dreamin wicked thoughts again.
Still she lay there waiting, realizing something was difference, but not figuring it out.
Then she heard it. Or rather, she didn’t hear it. No trains. In all her time living down in the under she had never known a time the trains stopped running. No that wasn’t true. When they did their sweeps, they might stop the trains for awhile. That made her think of the dream and the wicked tunnel monsters.
She quickly got up, found her corner where she made her water outside her little hut. Like the others the hut was made of little but strands of wood, metal and cardboard- more a boundary of her home and the dozen or so others. Then she made her business, she became aware of something else. The other residence of the cardboard community were quiet too.
Maybe they were up in the above looking for scraps. Or maybe they had heard a sweep coming and had already made off, forgetting to tell Sarah because she was just a scrawny nigger that didn’t smoke that shit, drink no liquor or put out for those horny stinkin motherfuckers.
She pulled her car out of the house and went past the others for one of her favorite exits, checkin the time. A bit past 12, but was in midnight or mid-day? No time to worry if a sweep was comin’. Past the hut owned by Leroy and Gootch, but those two crackheads weren’t there. Old Bob was gone though his hut smelled of piss too. So was Ruthy, who was nothing now but a cheap crack ‘ho. It was all quiet, but it looked like everyone left their meager things. That was strange cause those down under knew perhaps better then those in the above that you was what you had.
So damn quiet. No trains, so sound of the pigs with their dogs and batons. Where the hell where they? What tunnel where they comin from? All quiet and peaceful. She barely made a sound as if by breaking the silence she’d be trespassing on the peace. She waited for it, but it seemed never to come, not aware of what was watching her.
Teeth and claw to her back, sound of barking and growling comin for her. Breath on her back, snap of jaws.
The suddenness made her jump and almost lose her control of a scream.
But it was just Otis, Crazy Luke’s dog, in his pen. Dog was big and mean, fed off the rats and scraps and whatever Luke gave it. It growled at her from it’s chain.
Overcoming her fear she brought her fingers to the dogs nose, expecting it to bite at her. But the dog overcame it’s fury and sniffed curiously, until it recognized the smell. Then a long pink tongue snaked out from behind its teeth and licked her fingers.
“That’s fine Otis. You know me. No reason to get angry.” She said quietly, easing the dog.
The dog whimpered. More bark than bite, unless you weren’t from the community. The dog was distressed and probably hungry.
“Where’s Luke, Otis?”
The dog whimpered again, then moaned. Pulled on the chain, tightening the choker around his neck.
His food dish was empty, which could be expected. The water dish was also without. That was strange. Luke had never been known to leave the dog behind, least not without water.
If the men and dogs were doing a sweep they would take Otis and bring him to animal control, and that would mean that Otis would be dead in a week. Sarah wouldn’t allow that. Overcoming her doubts and the unspoken rule not to trespass on the property of others, she unleashed Otis, hoping to take the dog with her to the above. But the dog surprised her, getting past her and dashing down a dark tunnel towards one of the exits. Perhaps chasing after her owner, thought Sarah.
Uncertain of which direction to go, Sarah had followed the dog until she came to the exit, then, her eyes barely open due to the glare, she came up into the above. Only then did she realize that what Daniel had given her was not a dream but a prophecy.
No movement.
No cars.
No buses.
No sounds.
No people.
What the fuck?
She recognized the area for being a business area and for a moment she thought it might be a weekend and that everyone was gone. Like sometimes on weekend. But a half hour went by and not even a car screeched by. Nor an airplane soared above.
Deserted.
Was this a joke? And of so, it could only be God that was playing the joke.
Or had she slipped again?
No, no. She moved those crazy thoughts from her mind and began to look around.
She pushed her cart up 12 blocks and into a shopping area before she realized that it too was empty. Not even the restaurants. If it were some kind of holiday it was like none she knew. The sun on the back of her skin told her that it was already late in the afternoon.
Not a soul in sight.
Around 4 she stepped into a pet shop which, like most stores, had unlocked doors but no people. After searching awhile she found the keys and let go all the birds, then the cats and finally the dogs. Wasn’t good having animals like that imprisoned. She also opened some cans of food and tore open dry food for both cats and dogs, hoping that in an empty world, at least the cats and dogs might get along.
Shortly after 5 she got hungry and stepped into a Burger King. Like everything else it was empty.
It had been years since she had enjoyed the Whopper, and there were a number just waiting to be eaten. Shame to let food go to waste. She ate her burgers and then helped herself to some cold fries, alone behind a plastic table. Yet she couldn’t help but feel guilty and wondered if someone was watching her on one of those video cams. But after she had her burger and no one came for her, she stepped back out, dragging her cart with her filled with Burger King cookies for later.
So it went. She stepped into a Hilton hotel, but it too was deserted though the TV seemed to be still working. She tried a CNN station, and it was on, but there was no one behind the anchor chair. She flicked channels. On some of them programs continued, but wherever there was supposedly a news show, the stage was empty.
It was all beginning to make her feel disconcerted.
Where the hell was everyone?
Why the fuck she was still there. Bad enough they took all the above folks, but they seemed to take all the below folks too. A good bet that all the whackos in the house of nuts were also gone off.
Was it God? Or did everyone get picked up like from some aliens or something?
For the first time after years of being on her own and living underground, Sarah felt lonely.
And she felt watched. Like there were eyes, hidden from view, but watching her movies. Preying on her, meditating on her, observing, waiting. It was almost as if she could feel them crawling up her back.
Somethin’ definitely wasn’t right no more. The feeling of it left Sarah feeling disturbed throughout the late afternoon. Driven by instinct more than thought, or perhaps by a desire to find something familiar to return to, she approached one of the stairwells that led to the below world, stepped down and began to pull her cart behind her.
That was when she smelled it. Something foul and ugly, decay. Wormfood. Death. The smell filtered through her nostrils and like tendrils crept down into her lungs, making her feel more nauseous than any BK whopper would.
Something down there. Something not quite right.
And faintly she thought she heard the sound of growling and barking. She paused, still uncertain.
The sound seemed to grow louder, as if it were approaching.
Perhaps it might be better not to underneath tonight.
But the darkening sky gave little comfort despite the street laps that flickered on against the gathering gloom. More hurriedly than before, and with an occasional glance backward, she moved up the block until she came to the steps leading up to a massive gothic church. Leaving the cart behind her (the first time she had done so that day) she climbed up the stairs and tried the massive doors to the cathedral. Unlocked, they gave way as she pushed them open. Then she turned and went back to the cart.
Before going up the stairs she looked down both streets. Darkness was rising from the ground like a mist or a fog that even the street lights could not ward away. Quickly, she pulled the cart up after, each wheel banging against the stairs until she climbed up all 15, and was next to the door. A glance down to the street and she could barely see where she had just fled. She pushed the door open, and brought in her cart.
Watched as the door closed behind her with a resounding boom that echoed deeply into the cathedral’s eves.
Sarah backed out away from the door, unwilling to touch it, and waited. But whatever was outside, stayed outside.
After awhile, when she felt foolish for looking at the door so long, Sarah moved around the cathedral and checked the other doors. They too where unlocked. Feeling foolish for her fears she left them unlocked and went to a pew. There she removed one of the bibles and started reading, hoping it would calm her nerves and give her peace. But it need neither, and it was only the exhaustion of a long day, and the small print of the bible, that put her once again to sleep.
That was yesterday. Today the world was still empty.
It's all first draft stuff really. And let's try to keep to third person to avoid confusion.
Sarah looked up at the stain glass of church and felt the bath of colors against her brown skin.
So many years ago her momma had taken her to the church and she had felt the touch of something more. But she could recollect those memories which slipped away from her like memories of dreams and it had been so awfully long since she felt that spiritual sensation. She had come in hope of finding more, but perhaps God had checked out of the world with most of the people.
Without thinking about she had brought her shopping cart into the church and it waited patiently for her next to the pew. She guarded over the cart for so long that her instinct to defend her few possessions had not yet deserted her. She had pushed her cart up 23 blocks, up old brick stairwells from underneath, over empty streets, and had seen no one. Save for the sound of on occasional dog’s bark or a cat’s meow, the city had been as quiet as grave.
She spent an hour on her knees searching her memory for some kind of prayer. But it had been so long since she’d come to a house of god that she knew no words to speak. Perhaps when she had left her faith in God, God’s words had left her and now they were beyond her reach. Yet she tried.
“Our Father, you art in heaven, hollow be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as is in heaven…” Then she’d forget though she remembered there was something about ‘forgive us our trespasses” and “lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”
But that didn’t seem to work and so she tried another. “Hail Mary, full of Grace, the lord is with thee, blessed art thou….. blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Hail Mary, mother of God, prayer for us sinner, now and at the final hour.” Or something like that.
Her thoughts of the fruit of the womb made her think of the dream she’d had right before wakin’ up.
He’d come to her like he was before Daniel got to him, still a child, only 5. So adorably cute and wearing his favorite sports shirt, all big brown eyes and short curly hair. And as usual her heart just melted to see him and she could feel the tears in her eyes fill with tears for the love she felt for the boy. And, God help her, but in those tears she also felt the sting of hatred for Marcus. Marcus, her husband, who had killed the boy under his own belt, who she had once loved more than her life and who she in turn had killed out of anger and sadness and madness. Yet Marcus and Daniel had not quite died, for both still visited many a nights when she slept beneath the cold land.
Daniel had been playing with his ball and he looked up at her with thought big brown eyes that so forever and would never see age, and said, “Momma it’s all changed.”
“What’s change my little love.” As she had so often called him.
“The world, Momma, the whole world is different.” He said.
“How’s it change, my little love?”
“Be careful, momma, the boogiemen is afta you.” He said.
“Tha’s all just a dream, child. Ain’t no boogiemen. Ain’t real.”
“Ain’t no dif.”
“I don’t understand, what’s real and what’s dream?”
From behind her she heard the barking and snorting rising up through the tunnels.
Daniel, frozen, his voice turn desperate. “Wake up momma, wake up.”
Then she saw into the darkness, the lights coming up the tunnels from below and she knew them. The tunnel monsters that walked like men but had twisted faces with fangs, who swung the batons which broke bones. She turned back for Daniel and reached for his hand, but he was already running away towards a distant light.
“Daniel, don’t leave mommy.” She cried out.
“I already have momma.” He called back and then vanished in the light.
Behind her she could feel their breath on her back, rancid and wicked. She could smell the stench of the hounds that were so desperate to bite. But before she felt the batons hit her bones, her eyes opened.
For a moment she lay there beneath the coats she had found in a dumpster, frozen in fearful expectation of the pain to be delivered. The moment, patient with dread, hung on for almost half an hour before she realized she’d just been dreamin wicked thoughts again.
Still she lay there waiting, realizing something was difference, but not figuring it out.
Then she heard it. Or rather, she didn’t hear it. No trains. In all her time living down in the under she had never known a time the trains stopped running. No that wasn’t true. When they did their sweeps, they might stop the trains for awhile. That made her think of the dream and the wicked tunnel monsters.
She quickly got up, found her corner where she made her water outside her little hut. Like the others the hut was made of little but strands of wood, metal and cardboard- more a boundary of her home and the dozen or so others. Then she made her business, she became aware of something else. The other residence of the cardboard community were quiet too.
Maybe they were up in the above looking for scraps. Or maybe they had heard a sweep coming and had already made off, forgetting to tell Sarah because she was just a scrawny nigger that didn’t smoke that shit, drink no liquor or put out for those horny stinkin motherfuckers.
She pulled her car out of the house and went past the others for one of her favorite exits, checkin the time. A bit past 12, but was in midnight or mid-day? No time to worry if a sweep was comin’. Past the hut owned by Leroy and Gootch, but those two crackheads weren’t there. Old Bob was gone though his hut smelled of piss too. So was Ruthy, who was nothing now but a cheap crack ‘ho. It was all quiet, but it looked like everyone left their meager things. That was strange cause those down under knew perhaps better then those in the above that you was what you had.
So damn quiet. No trains, so sound of the pigs with their dogs and batons. Where the hell where they? What tunnel where they comin from? All quiet and peaceful. She barely made a sound as if by breaking the silence she’d be trespassing on the peace. She waited for it, but it seemed never to come, not aware of what was watching her.
Teeth and claw to her back, sound of barking and growling comin for her. Breath on her back, snap of jaws.
The suddenness made her jump and almost lose her control of a scream.
But it was just Otis, Crazy Luke’s dog, in his pen. Dog was big and mean, fed off the rats and scraps and whatever Luke gave it. It growled at her from it’s chain.
Overcoming her fear she brought her fingers to the dogs nose, expecting it to bite at her. But the dog overcame it’s fury and sniffed curiously, until it recognized the smell. Then a long pink tongue snaked out from behind its teeth and licked her fingers.
“That’s fine Otis. You know me. No reason to get angry.” She said quietly, easing the dog.
The dog whimpered. More bark than bite, unless you weren’t from the community. The dog was distressed and probably hungry.
“Where’s Luke, Otis?”
The dog whimpered again, then moaned. Pulled on the chain, tightening the choker around his neck.
His food dish was empty, which could be expected. The water dish was also without. That was strange. Luke had never been known to leave the dog behind, least not without water.
If the men and dogs were doing a sweep they would take Otis and bring him to animal control, and that would mean that Otis would be dead in a week. Sarah wouldn’t allow that. Overcoming her doubts and the unspoken rule not to trespass on the property of others, she unleashed Otis, hoping to take the dog with her to the above. But the dog surprised her, getting past her and dashing down a dark tunnel towards one of the exits. Perhaps chasing after her owner, thought Sarah.
Uncertain of which direction to go, Sarah had followed the dog until she came to the exit, then, her eyes barely open due to the glare, she came up into the above. Only then did she realize that what Daniel had given her was not a dream but a prophecy.
No movement.
No cars.
No buses.
No sounds.
No people.
What the fuck?
She recognized the area for being a business area and for a moment she thought it might be a weekend and that everyone was gone. Like sometimes on weekend. But a half hour went by and not even a car screeched by. Nor an airplane soared above.
Deserted.
Was this a joke? And of so, it could only be God that was playing the joke.
Or had she slipped again?
No, no. She moved those crazy thoughts from her mind and began to look around.
She pushed her cart up 12 blocks and into a shopping area before she realized that it too was empty. Not even the restaurants. If it were some kind of holiday it was like none she knew. The sun on the back of her skin told her that it was already late in the afternoon.
Not a soul in sight.
Around 4 she stepped into a pet shop which, like most stores, had unlocked doors but no people. After searching awhile she found the keys and let go all the birds, then the cats and finally the dogs. Wasn’t good having animals like that imprisoned. She also opened some cans of food and tore open dry food for both cats and dogs, hoping that in an empty world, at least the cats and dogs might get along.
Shortly after 5 she got hungry and stepped into a Burger King. Like everything else it was empty.
It had been years since she had enjoyed the Whopper, and there were a number just waiting to be eaten. Shame to let food go to waste. She ate her burgers and then helped herself to some cold fries, alone behind a plastic table. Yet she couldn’t help but feel guilty and wondered if someone was watching her on one of those video cams. But after she had her burger and no one came for her, she stepped back out, dragging her cart with her filled with Burger King cookies for later.
So it went. She stepped into a Hilton hotel, but it too was deserted though the TV seemed to be still working. She tried a CNN station, and it was on, but there was no one behind the anchor chair. She flicked channels. On some of them programs continued, but wherever there was supposedly a news show, the stage was empty.
It was all beginning to make her feel disconcerted.
Where the hell was everyone?
Why the fuck she was still there. Bad enough they took all the above folks, but they seemed to take all the below folks too. A good bet that all the whackos in the house of nuts were also gone off.
Was it God? Or did everyone get picked up like from some aliens or something?
For the first time after years of being on her own and living underground, Sarah felt lonely.
And she felt watched. Like there were eyes, hidden from view, but watching her movies. Preying on her, meditating on her, observing, waiting. It was almost as if she could feel them crawling up her back.
Somethin’ definitely wasn’t right no more. The feeling of it left Sarah feeling disturbed throughout the late afternoon. Driven by instinct more than thought, or perhaps by a desire to find something familiar to return to, she approached one of the stairwells that led to the below world, stepped down and began to pull her cart behind her.
That was when she smelled it. Something foul and ugly, decay. Wormfood. Death. The smell filtered through her nostrils and like tendrils crept down into her lungs, making her feel more nauseous than any BK whopper would.
Something down there. Something not quite right.
And faintly she thought she heard the sound of growling and barking. She paused, still uncertain.
The sound seemed to grow louder, as if it were approaching.
Perhaps it might be better not to underneath tonight.
But the darkening sky gave little comfort despite the street laps that flickered on against the gathering gloom. More hurriedly than before, and with an occasional glance backward, she moved up the block until she came to the steps leading up to a massive gothic church. Leaving the cart behind her (the first time she had done so that day) she climbed up the stairs and tried the massive doors to the cathedral. Unlocked, they gave way as she pushed them open. Then she turned and went back to the cart.
Before going up the stairs she looked down both streets. Darkness was rising from the ground like a mist or a fog that even the street lights could not ward away. Quickly, she pulled the cart up after, each wheel banging against the stairs until she climbed up all 15, and was next to the door. A glance down to the street and she could barely see where she had just fled. She pushed the door open, and brought in her cart.
Watched as the door closed behind her with a resounding boom that echoed deeply into the cathedral’s eves.
Sarah backed out away from the door, unwilling to touch it, and waited. But whatever was outside, stayed outside.
After awhile, when she felt foolish for looking at the door so long, Sarah moved around the cathedral and checked the other doors. They too where unlocked. Feeling foolish for her fears she left them unlocked and went to a pew. There she removed one of the bibles and started reading, hoping it would calm her nerves and give her peace. But it need neither, and it was only the exhaustion of a long day, and the small print of the bible, that put her once again to sleep.
That was yesterday. Today the world was still empty.
welsh
Junkmaster
Ok, for now we will keep the story generic. We will deal with location later. Start your posting. Karkow- you've got one on this thread. Time to move it over.
welsh
Junkmaster
Ok, couple of rules-
(1) keep it third person.
(2) this is first draft stuff. For me it's worth more that you post quick than not post. THis is just fucking around. But if you get the chance to fix, fix.
(3) Don't be shy about being critical. These threads are about sharing ideas and cooperating. I'd rather you guys be responsive to each other than not.
(4) Be kind in your criticism and if you are on the receiving end, don't take it personally.
(1) keep it third person.
(2) this is first draft stuff. For me it's worth more that you post quick than not post. THis is just fucking around. But if you get the chance to fix, fix.
(3) Don't be shy about being critical. These threads are about sharing ideas and cooperating. I'd rather you guys be responsive to each other than not.
(4) Be kind in your criticism and if you are on the receiving end, don't take it personally.
CS
Andy stood to attention infront the colonel's desk. The Air-Con was blasting out, relieving the room of some of the Iraqi heat. For what seemed like hours the colonel sat there, shuffling papers and pushing his glasses up his nose. It was a fairly pointless exercise, since withing a minute they would have slipped down again. At last he looked up at Andy and spoke.
The colonel had a stereo-typical British officer's voice. It sounded as if it was manicured, and would have been at home in any stately house in England. Which probably was where its home was.
"Most Unfortunate buissiness. Most unfortunate."
Andy didn't know whether or not to reply. He decided not to. The colonel returned to shuffling his papers and muttering to himself. The silence was awful - Andy could still see the body, the blood trickling out from the forehead and slowly making its way across the un-seeing eyes. The face had a look of shock on it, a look of surprise. It was odd, considering the face usually wore a smile or a grin, and laughter would gush out from the mouth that would no longer make any noises. It was Andy's fault. He knew it. He had stopped the man's laughter. He was barely a man. Only eighteen. His parents wouldn't see him on his twentieth birthday. Andy felt sick with himself. It was haunting him. The face. The blood. The eyes. The face. The blood. The eyes. Face. Blood. Eyes. Face Blo...
The colonel's voice jerked Andy back to reality.
"I've read and re-read the reports from the men of your section, and that of your immediate superior, Captain Briggs."
Andy stiffened. This next sentence would decide whether or not he would be locked up, or just dismissed.
"You're lucky."
Andy exhaled, relief washing over him.
"The general concensus of opinion is that you accidentally shot Corporal Hill. There was no malice aforethought, neither was it done deliberately. You can thank your men for this: there won't be a Court Martial - there isn't anyone to prosecute. However, I'm giving you five weeks compulsory leave."
The colonel stood up.
"Thankyou Sir." said Andy.
"That's alright. Stay out of trouble, lieutenant."
They both saluted, and Anfy walked out of the office. He sat down on a chair, and nearly keeled over.
Face. Blood. Eyes. Face Blood Eyes. Face Blood Eyes.
Andy awoke with a shock. He looked around desperately, eventually realising he was in his London flat. He had had the same dream over and over again, the white face, the staring eyes, following him until he had nowhere else to run. No escape. Fear would well up in him until he screamed.
It had to stop. He would go and see a psychiatrist. Maybe he could help. Andy got out of bed and went over to the phone to make an appointment. The phone rang for a full three minutes, but there was no reply. Andy looked at his watch. He could see his reflection in it. Blond hair and blue eyes. Stubble. It was nine am. The surgery should be open and staffed by now.
Andy quickly threw some clothes on and walked down the steps to the front door. It was when he opened the door he noticed that although the time was mid-morning, the sky looked as if it were dusk. There was very little light. He stepped out on to the pavement and then it happened. A face loomed at him out of the darkness. A white, staring face, with a trickle of red coming from the forehead. And there was a sound, like an echo, of a bullet hitting flesh. The face loomed again, and again, and again. Andy looked around wildly. The faces were on all sides, closing in on him, the noise echoing in his ears. Andy ran, his heart pumping so fast he swore it would burst. Pictures flashed through his mind, him pulling the trigger, the bullet hitting the boy's face, the body collapsing in a heap. Andy ran until he had no more energy. He also collapsed in a heap, in a shop doorway.
It was then that he noticed it. No one was around. The busy London traffic wasn't there. The people swarming up the pavements weren't there. He could hear birds singing, protecting their territory from others, and the occasional bark of a dog, but no speech. The city was deathly quiet. And cold. Andy shivered, and huddled up in a heap in the doorway, praying for he faces to go and the nightmare to end, for that must have been what it was.
But it didn't end.
Andy stood to attention infront the colonel's desk. The Air-Con was blasting out, relieving the room of some of the Iraqi heat. For what seemed like hours the colonel sat there, shuffling papers and pushing his glasses up his nose. It was a fairly pointless exercise, since withing a minute they would have slipped down again. At last he looked up at Andy and spoke.
The colonel had a stereo-typical British officer's voice. It sounded as if it was manicured, and would have been at home in any stately house in England. Which probably was where its home was.
"Most Unfortunate buissiness. Most unfortunate."
Andy didn't know whether or not to reply. He decided not to. The colonel returned to shuffling his papers and muttering to himself. The silence was awful - Andy could still see the body, the blood trickling out from the forehead and slowly making its way across the un-seeing eyes. The face had a look of shock on it, a look of surprise. It was odd, considering the face usually wore a smile or a grin, and laughter would gush out from the mouth that would no longer make any noises. It was Andy's fault. He knew it. He had stopped the man's laughter. He was barely a man. Only eighteen. His parents wouldn't see him on his twentieth birthday. Andy felt sick with himself. It was haunting him. The face. The blood. The eyes. The face. The blood. The eyes. Face. Blood. Eyes. Face Blo...
The colonel's voice jerked Andy back to reality.
"I've read and re-read the reports from the men of your section, and that of your immediate superior, Captain Briggs."
Andy stiffened. This next sentence would decide whether or not he would be locked up, or just dismissed.
"You're lucky."
Andy exhaled, relief washing over him.
"The general concensus of opinion is that you accidentally shot Corporal Hill. There was no malice aforethought, neither was it done deliberately. You can thank your men for this: there won't be a Court Martial - there isn't anyone to prosecute. However, I'm giving you five weeks compulsory leave."
The colonel stood up.
"Thankyou Sir." said Andy.
"That's alright. Stay out of trouble, lieutenant."
They both saluted, and Anfy walked out of the office. He sat down on a chair, and nearly keeled over.
Face. Blood. Eyes. Face Blood Eyes. Face Blood Eyes.
Andy awoke with a shock. He looked around desperately, eventually realising he was in his London flat. He had had the same dream over and over again, the white face, the staring eyes, following him until he had nowhere else to run. No escape. Fear would well up in him until he screamed.
It had to stop. He would go and see a psychiatrist. Maybe he could help. Andy got out of bed and went over to the phone to make an appointment. The phone rang for a full three minutes, but there was no reply. Andy looked at his watch. He could see his reflection in it. Blond hair and blue eyes. Stubble. It was nine am. The surgery should be open and staffed by now.
Andy quickly threw some clothes on and walked down the steps to the front door. It was when he opened the door he noticed that although the time was mid-morning, the sky looked as if it were dusk. There was very little light. He stepped out on to the pavement and then it happened. A face loomed at him out of the darkness. A white, staring face, with a trickle of red coming from the forehead. And there was a sound, like an echo, of a bullet hitting flesh. The face loomed again, and again, and again. Andy looked around wildly. The faces were on all sides, closing in on him, the noise echoing in his ears. Andy ran, his heart pumping so fast he swore it would burst. Pictures flashed through his mind, him pulling the trigger, the bullet hitting the boy's face, the body collapsing in a heap. Andy ran until he had no more energy. He also collapsed in a heap, in a shop doorway.
It was then that he noticed it. No one was around. The busy London traffic wasn't there. The people swarming up the pavements weren't there. He could hear birds singing, protecting their territory from others, and the occasional bark of a dog, but no speech. The city was deathly quiet. And cold. Andy shivered, and huddled up in a heap in the doorway, praying for he faces to go and the nightmare to end, for that must have been what it was.
But it didn't end.
welsh
Junkmaster
Nice Mikey, but remember, we agreed on "generic city".
Post on the IC board. I am feeling lonely on that one.
Post on the IC board. I am feeling lonely on that one.
Posted, but that is obvious. The dream about the blood and the knife and such is from a real dream I had, modified only slightly. It was a very unusual dream in how it impacted me.
Tempistfury
It Wandered In From the Wastes
I'm going to play as me, (assuming I get approved, heh I really suck if I get rejected from a RP :-Þ) since I have spent much time thinking what I would do in random end of the world scenerios. Rather than come up with someone elses perspective, i'm going to be lazy and play myself.
I'm 6'5'' brown eyes, dark brown hair. Decently pale, but because im half greek, I tan pretty well, so i never get a "computer tan," even though i spend a good amount of time infront of my computer writing. I'm not too athletic, and my vision isn't that great, but atleast i'm stronger than I look, which is a surprise to most since I look like a freakin twig. In fallout i'd probably be a gimp charcter. Low PE, ST, AG, EN. Atleast I make up for it with being decently good looking, and pretty smart. No comment on the "luck" fator. (wow I sound like a show off.)
-Draft Post-
I'm not sure what happened. I don't really care either. I guess part of me always wanted this to happen. I can run wild, go get a gun, shoot cars for fun or something. Then what? I guess live a survivalists wet dream. Too bad I'm not a survivalist.
I guess I can just hole up somewhere, get enough food to last me a life time, and sit tight. Hell, I can sit around playing videogames and i'll be the most productive person on the planet. Go figure. I'm probably the last person left alive? Hah. Hardly. That would be waaaay too cheezy sci-fi. There are probably others left anyways. To have a in six billion chance is so un-plausable. Maybe one in a million. One in a million things have happened to me. Little one in a million things, but they were one in a million none the less. So holing up is not the best way to go about this. There are others out there probably. And i'll probably find them in my life time.
What if they're hostile? Heh. Transportation, Guns, Food, better transportation, then more guns and food. Better safe than sorry. Off to the closest police station it is. I want me some SWAT gear...
I'm 6'5'' brown eyes, dark brown hair. Decently pale, but because im half greek, I tan pretty well, so i never get a "computer tan," even though i spend a good amount of time infront of my computer writing. I'm not too athletic, and my vision isn't that great, but atleast i'm stronger than I look, which is a surprise to most since I look like a freakin twig. In fallout i'd probably be a gimp charcter. Low PE, ST, AG, EN. Atleast I make up for it with being decently good looking, and pretty smart. No comment on the "luck" fator. (wow I sound like a show off.)
-Draft Post-
I'm not sure what happened. I don't really care either. I guess part of me always wanted this to happen. I can run wild, go get a gun, shoot cars for fun or something. Then what? I guess live a survivalists wet dream. Too bad I'm not a survivalist.
I guess I can just hole up somewhere, get enough food to last me a life time, and sit tight. Hell, I can sit around playing videogames and i'll be the most productive person on the planet. Go figure. I'm probably the last person left alive? Hah. Hardly. That would be waaaay too cheezy sci-fi. There are probably others left anyways. To have a in six billion chance is so un-plausable. Maybe one in a million. One in a million things have happened to me. Little one in a million things, but they were one in a million none the less. So holing up is not the best way to go about this. There are others out there probably. And i'll probably find them in my life time.
What if they're hostile? Heh. Transportation, Guns, Food, better transportation, then more guns and food. Better safe than sorry. Off to the closest police station it is. I want me some SWAT gear...
Here is my char. there is a lot more to say ofc, but i think these are the most relevant parts.
Name: Gerrit (but uses Mike or Micheal when abroad, which is the translation of his middlename)
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Blood Type: A+
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Height: 1m75
Race: Caucasian, southern european looks (but could be mistaken for arab)
Nationality: Belgian
Physical appearance: Normal slim build. Goatee. Tanned.
Strengths:
- Computer Sciences: Excellent
- Pain endurance: Excellent
- Repair: Good
- Fire arms: Good
- Hand to hand: Good (karate)
- First aid: Good (+)
Weakness:
- Average physical strength
- Visual perception (glasses are required)
- Busted right knee (more of an annoyance than a real problem)
- Mild form of RSI on wrists
- Charisma (mostly because he just doesn't care)
Qualifications & job:
- Applied informatics with specialisation in networks
- Part of network security division for a banks headquarters in the city
Personality:
- Silent & introverted (but a good listener)
- Is reluctant to take control of a situation, but will intervene if current leadership is insufficient
- Difficult to anger, but will not back down once pissed off
- Only believes in what can be seen & proven with science (Atheist)
- Lazy
- Always speak his mind, even at improper timing
- Stubborn
Note: added a year to finish 'my' studies & find myself a job in 'our' generic city.
Name: Gerrit (but uses Mike or Micheal when abroad, which is the translation of his middlename)
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Blood Type: A+
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Height: 1m75
Race: Caucasian, southern european looks (but could be mistaken for arab)
Nationality: Belgian
Physical appearance: Normal slim build. Goatee. Tanned.
Strengths:
- Computer Sciences: Excellent
- Pain endurance: Excellent
- Repair: Good
- Fire arms: Good
- Hand to hand: Good (karate)
- First aid: Good (+)
Weakness:
- Average physical strength
- Visual perception (glasses are required)
- Busted right knee (more of an annoyance than a real problem)
- Mild form of RSI on wrists
- Charisma (mostly because he just doesn't care)
Qualifications & job:
- Applied informatics with specialisation in networks
- Part of network security division for a banks headquarters in the city
Personality:
- Silent & introverted (but a good listener)
- Is reluctant to take control of a situation, but will intervene if current leadership is insufficient
- Difficult to anger, but will not back down once pissed off
- Only believes in what can be seen & proven with science (Atheist)
- Lazy
- Always speak his mind, even at improper timing
- Stubborn
Note: added a year to finish 'my' studies & find myself a job in 'our' generic city.
Welsh, for the moment I am only going to play one character. Working every dya, Im a bit too burnt out to be able to keep track of multiple character shere, as well as the other rps I am already in. Maybe later on, as time goes, I'll throw in new people.
I'm still in the game, just playing Sean for the moment.
I'm still in the game, just playing Sean for the moment.
Fireblade said:
x2
at least until my final exams are over...
welsh
Junkmaster
Post folks!
What no one like the idea of a polar bear attack in a city?
Time to bring characters together.
My next post will deal more about the nature of "generic city."
What no one like the idea of a polar bear attack in a city?
Time to bring characters together.
My next post will deal more about the nature of "generic city."
it is quite as generic anymore rofl, one posted london another NY ^^
Well I was trying to maintain post order...but ok...Ill try tonight...
Tempistfury
It Wandered In From the Wastes
:: raises hand :: uh is my charcter / first post approved?
welsh
Junkmaster
Yes, your character is approved.
welsh
Junkmaster
Before anyone can say "What the fuck?" about the city- there is a reason for it.
Oh and a few thinks from Mikey for those of us who are less up on London and things English-
and for London slang-
http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml
Oh and a few thinks from Mikey for those of us who are less up on London and things English-
Mikey said:"A Roleplayer's guide to London" - Ripped from various sites by Mikey
Here is a basic low-down on various famous London sites:
Buckingham Palace:
Buckingham Palace - Popularly known as "Buck House", has served as the monarch`s permanent London residence only since the accession of Victoria. It began its days in 1702 as the Duke of Buckingham`s city residence, built on the site of a notorious brothel, and was sold by the duke`s son to George III in 1762.
Piccy
Chinatown:
Chinatown - Located in between Leicester Square and Shaftesbury Avenue, is a self-contained jumble of shops, cafes and restaurants that makes up one of London`s most distinct and popular ethnic enclaves. There are quite a few sex shops around here. Also, if you want a lady of the night, here's your place.
Piccy
Covent Garden:
Covent Garden - What started out in the seventeenth century as London`s first luxury neighbourhood is once more a highly desirable place to live, work and shop. Based around Inigo Jones`s piazza - London`s oldest planned square - the area had for years been a market centre for fruit and vegetables.
That was closed in 1974 and for a while it looked as if the developers would move in on this prime central real estate and demolish it all for unwanted new office blocks. These plans collapsed and now we have the elegant old market hall, and shops, restaurants and arts-and-crafts stalls. It has become one of London`s major tourist attractions, which now boast some of the trendiest clothes shops, cafes and restaurants in London. There are a lot of stand-up comedians and musicians around the place, as well as the Royal Opera House.
Piccy
The London Dungeon:
London Dungeon - London Bridge - the vaults beneath the railway arches of London Bridge railway station, on the south side of Tooley Street, are now occupied by the Gothic horrors of the London Dungeon, one of the city`s major crowd-pleasers. London Dungeon
The life-sized waxwork tableaux include a hanging at Tyburn gallows, a rack, a man being hung, drawn and quartered and one being boiled alive. The atmosphere of horror and terror is boosted by actors dressed as top-hatted Victorian vampires pouncing out of the darkness.
Piccy
The London Eye
Based on the bank of the river Thames near Waterloo Station this is spectacle well worth visit. Basically it is the biggest observation wheel in the world hence its name which will in matter of 30 minutes make a full circle and thus give you a splendid view of London. It towers 135 meters over the Thames River and weighs 2,100 tonnes. If the sky is clear you will have a 25-mile panoramic view. Open: daily (until Sept 9) from 10am-10:30pm. Tel: 0870 5000 600.
Piccy
Nelson's Collum and Trafalgar Square:
Nelson`s Column - raised in 1843 and now one of London`s best-loved monuments, commemorates the one-armed, one-eyed admiral who defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, but paid for it with his life. The statue which surmounts the granite column is more than triple life-size but still manages to appear minuscule, and is coated in anti-pigeon gel to try and stem the build-up of guano.
Piccy
The rest of Traflagar Square has the National Gallery, as well as statues of various other British favourites, and there is one more space. There is a lot of debate about whom to put there.
St Paul's Cathedral:
In the City of London you will come upon St Paul`s Cathedral. St Paul`s CathedralThe present structure is the fifth cathedral to be built on the site. The weddings of the Prince and Princess of Wales, the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill and many other occasions have graced this spiritual centre. Built of Portland stone with a Dome that rises to 365 feet and with Great Paul, the largest bell in England, this has to be one of THE MUST SEE sights in London.
Piccy
Tower Bridge
One of the most famous landmarks in London and just over a hundred years old, the Tower Bridge with its twin drawbridges, or bascules, each weighing about 1,000 tons have been raised more then half a million times since it was built. Tower bridge, LondonIt takes only 90 seconds for the bascules to be raised with electric motors which replaced the old steam engines. From Tower Bridge you can view HMS Belfast, an 11,500-ton cruiser that opened the bombardment of the Normandy coast on D-Day.
Piccy
And the ship.
The Tower of London:
...overlooks the river at the eastern boundary of the old city walls. Chiefly famous as a place of imprisonment and death, it has variously been used as a royal residence, armoury, mint, menagerie, observatory and - function it still serves - a safe-deposit box for the Crown Jewels.
Piccy
The Houses of Parliament:
...are the place where laws governing British life are debated and enacted. Begun in 1840 after a fire destroyed the previous building, the Gothic style was designed by Sir Charles Barry with aid from A.W. Pugin. It contains the bell Big Ben that is struck each quarter hour. A light in the clock tower tells when the House of Commons is in session.
The Houses of Parliament are steeped in pomp, ceremony and splendour. The Queen rides in a State coach to Westminster to open each new session of Parliament, usually in the second week in November.
Piccy
and for London slang-
http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml
welsh
Junkmaster
couple notes here-
Chances are you won't find bodies. Bodies tend to dissolve away. Why? Well that's something for you to figure out.
ALso, yes, the city is really a collection of cities. The weird thing is that yesterday your city looked a lot more like Cleveland, New York or London. Today it looks somewhat different with bits and pieces of those cities tossed together. Tomorrow the city might look somewhat different again.
And yes, that's consistent with the story as well.
Chances are you won't find bodies. Bodies tend to dissolve away. Why? Well that's something for you to figure out.
ALso, yes, the city is really a collection of cities. The weird thing is that yesterday your city looked a lot more like Cleveland, New York or London. Today it looks somewhat different with bits and pieces of those cities tossed together. Tomorrow the city might look somewhat different again.
And yes, that's consistent with the story as well.
Lol, there goes Sean's map.
- Status