NationStates Jolt Archive

Fathom, LAO
The Supreme Chancellor’s Office

“Chancellor,” cried a small, sweaty pudgy man, while running in the door, “we have received reports of a crisis in Northern Mesa.”

“What do you mean,” replied the Supreme Chancellor in his suave, personable voice.

“There have been reports,” the pudgy man stalled, looking at the yellow legal pad in his hands, “of ‘citizens attacking one another for an unknown reason’ and ‘resorting to cannibalism’.” He stopped for a moment, trying to find another line in the report handed to him. “One here uses the term ‘zombie.’”

The Chancellor flashes a look of concern towards the man, and suddenly he recoils into a broad grin. “Keep me informed of the situation.”

“That is all you are going to do? Nothing more that that?”

“You do your job, and I will do mine, Vice Chancellor. You inform me, I act. Get back to your job and forget any of this information was ever seen.”

“But-“, says the Vice Chancellor as he is cut off.

“But nothing. I make the decisions.” The pudgy man exits the immaculate golden doors. The Supreme Chancellor makes his way back to the desk he was sitting at, and picks up the phone.

Northern Mesa
Road into the capital, North City

Jim Sebranek is driving his archaic sports car through the winding hills of the small island. Although that is his actual name, he goes by his nickname, Quell. He, in his time, has suppressed the crime in The Last Anarchy Order to the point where it is practically non-existent. Only a street patrolman, but still, he has earned his title.

The latest Rolling Stones hit blares through his after-market stereo as he enters the last long wind before the city. Everything seems to be going great.

There seems to be no traffic in the outskirts of the city. An obtrusive silence is echoing through the area. There is no traffic, but abandoned cars are surrounding him.

Quickly, he puts the car in park, and exits his vehicle. He now sees the car crashed into the house behind him. He, following police instinct, runs towards it, ready to rescue one in need.

The first thing he notices when he gets to thee car is the blood. Blood is all over the hood of the car, and on the shards of a smashed windshield. No body is found.

A shuffling is heard behind him. In a quick and graceful rotation, he faces the perpetrator.

A gash on the woman’s throat suggests she is on the verge of death. He runs to her and grabs her, and says, “Ma’am, are you okay? We have to get you help!”

She says nothing. A growl is audible, just before she lunges at him.

Quell is shot to the ground, and simultaneously the woman takes her hands and proceeds, mouth open, towards his throat. His combat training triggers itself.

He throws a foot into her stomach, and shifts his weight backwards, flinging her into the damaged drywall. The woman launches to her feet, not using even her hands. Quell looks for a weapon, and picks up a piece of mangled brake piping.

As the woman runs at him, Quell, in one smooth motion, jets the pipe up, and through her cerebellum. She falls towards the ground, but before she hits, Quell is running out of the emaciated house, and to his car.


(OOC:If you wish to take part in this, develop a character in the city. Humans only. Any questions PM me.)

OOC: I'll do more than get involved. I'll be the cause!

The deadly toxins the Agents of Madness had been dumping into the city water supply had worked perfectly. Now to convince the survivors to join Cthulhu.

Sari Ehat wore a midriff-revealing garment that displayed the symbol of Cthulhu - an eye inside a pentacle, drawn in blood - around her navel. The symbol would ward off the zombies.

She walked outside with a shotgun, but that was for usage against any mauraders. As she knew would happen, the zombies left her alone.

She entered the town square, and called out on a loudspeaker:
"HEED THE CALL OF CTHULHU!"

(OOC: Hope you dont mind LAO, thought Id try and do a character!)


Northern Mesa
Small village about thirty miles West of North City

Jim Hendrix looked to be a pretty normal man and a pretty normal man he was. Once he had gotten over the inevitable name jokes he was just another person at High School and then college. Admitedly he was smarter than average, but aside from that he liked the quiet life he led. That was until two days ago when mysteriously his girlfriend had started trying to bite their two year old kid. Both were now dead, the kid to the girlfriend and the girlfriend to a passing cop who was trying to control the outbreak.

The cop had left Jim a 9mm Berreta and several spare clips of ammunition along with a set of body armour that he had taken from the Police Armoury. There were no other survivors on the block so Jim had effectively looted their houses for any gear or food, his brief stint in the Army taking over his reflexes to run and hide.

Now he had an antique double barrelled shotgun and a more modern pump action version, both of which thankfully used the same ammunition. His pickup truck was loaded up in the garage with food an supplies and he hoped soon to make a break for the Capital. Surely somebody there had survived.

Northern Mesa
Small village about thirty miles West of North City

"What the hell is going on?" is the only though that runs though Jack Remington’s head. Jack right hand was bleeding, "good thing I'm left handed" he thinks. A mad dog attacked him earlier. When Jack drew his hunting knife to retaliate, the dog already bite his right hand. Jack slit his throat in one graceful swing after that, and a quick second stab to its heart.

Jack just finished his military service and was looking for a place to settle down. This place look nice until the people had a strange craving for his flesh. He needed to find someone, someone that is still sane. With his right hand out he is nothing more then a sitting target.

Jack's blond hair was a mess, his built structure was damaged and his combats greens were bloody. He was wondering in the open to find someone when he heard a car. He immediately began to rush over...

Northern Mesa
Small village about thirty miles West of North City

Jim had been driving for only a couple of minutes when he saw the figure in his headlights. He quickly withdrew the 9mm from his holster and slowed slightly, pushing down the automatic lock on the big four door trucks main door.

The first thing he saw was that the mans movement didnt depict him as one of them. His movements were too fluid, although he did appear to be bleeding from somewhere, staining his combats.

Perhaps a military man thought Jim bound to be useful in this situation

He brought the pickup to a stop and slowly wound down the window just enough to allow him to talk out of it.

"Howdy there Stranger. You shouldn't be walking around here man. You ok?"

After recieving a kind of affirmative nod, Jim looked down at the mans hand.

"Got an aid kit in the back if you need it. Hop on in, we sure as hell need to get outta this place."

Without waiting for a response he put the manual stick truck into gear and prepared to move off. If they waited too long who knew what might come looking for them.

Northern Mesa
Road into the capital, North City

Thankful for the first aid kit, Jack started to patch himself up. His right hand was bandage in a way that he couldn’t even hold anything, however it could now start to heal. Jack realized that they were heading into the capital but said nothing; besides, it sure as hell beat walking.

Jack started idle conversation with Jim in the car. He went to say that he not from around here. He drop out of high school and join the military. He went on to be a communication officer and met a friend there. His friend left the army about a month ago and he did the same, he had no where to go. “So on my first day out, I decided to got pay a visit to my friend.” says Jack, “But when I got here early this morning everyone was acting weird and the town was a mess.”

Capital city was getting closer by the minute and Jack was getting worried. He looks at his only ally and wonder how he was going to be able to pull his weight around. Jack then look around the car itself and realizes this guy got it planned pretty good. “I’m going to just have to play it by ear.” he thinks.

OOC: This is a character I used in an RP a long time ago.

Northern Mesa
North City

Boris Nabokov had been hiding from many governments, including his home of SAVX, for some time now. He couldn't be proven guilty of the assassinations he had performed for and against a myriad of crime and small government groups, but he was under excessive suspicion, and that was enough to make him take an extra-cautious route.

Now, however, everything had gone to hell. What exactly happened, he had no idea. It was as though a bad horror movie had suddenly taken over all of reality. Whatever the case, he needed to get out of the city. Armed with a VXM-17 Carbine and enough supplies to last him a week, if used sparingly, he made his way out of the apartment complex he lived in.

Only two zombies were encountered along the way, but they were too busy eating bodies to notice Boris. Out on the street, it was a different story.

Clicking off the safety and cocking the gun, the black-bearded, rough-looking man began to make his way through the city.

Northern Mesa
The Suburbs of North City

Quell is quivering when he finally gets the car started. Adrenaline is pumping through every last one of his veins. He can feel his heart racing like a bass drum in a rap song.

Avoiding the abandoned cars, he reaches into the backseat of the car. He pulles a long bag out and places it into the front seat. One hand on the wheel, the other one is steering.

Ah, he thought, thank God I broke down and bought this. An XM-8 Automatic Rifle was revealed. 100 5.56 x 45mm rounds, a bipod, and 4 more magazines.

In the next second, his car is flipped on it's top. He did not notice the debris in the road.

Broken and bloody, he pulls himself from the wrecked automobile, back in tow. He quickly pulls out the rifle and swings the bag of auxillary maqazines over his should and around his neck.

They come at him in a group of three. A woman, and two men, blood ridden and sauteed in order, they go down just as easy as a video game. One shot to each of their heads.

Quell begins to sprint into the heart of the city, and the heart of the dead.

A road near the Capital

The modern big black pickup was making its way slowly through the occasional piece of wreckage that still littered the roads into the Capital. Jim had hoped that the closer they got the less they would see, however that did not appear to be the case.

His new companions hand was now fully bandaged and Jim had passed over the pump action shotgun so that Jack was now literally riding shotgun for him. He felt slightly safer now he was with a companion but had left the holster with the 9mm in it on his leg, along with two of the spare magazines.

Seeing an abandoned policecar sitting just to one side of the road he turned to his companion.

"Think we should check her out for supplies and stuff? It ain't looking like we will be any safer here than we were beforehand."

With the agreement of the other man he checked all the mirrors for moving bodies before pulling the pickup over only about a foot from the cop car. Peering in from behind his window he could see another pump action sitting under the dash as well as a top mounted radio that looked like it may come in useful.

Jack also got out of the car when Jim did and he covered his side holding the shotgun one handed. Jim quickly removed the other pump action and slung it over his shoulder before prying the radio set loose with an iron bar that was in the back of the car for some reason. He also grabbed a map of the city and a police jacket that was lying in the vehicle, both of which he quickly threw into the back seats of the pickup before him and his companion remounted and moved off again quite slowly.

OOC: Taking slight writer liability by writing Boris Nabokov into a slight back-story, all goes with my regional meddling. :D


Base #35, MIRA-6 wing, Teraskova

The projector clacked again and brought a picture into view with a chunk, not that the sound was actually needed, it was a digital projector. It was just fitting with the ethos of old-fashioned looking while being state of the art, certainly something which confused the hell out of outsiders.
The picture showed a dishevelled and rough-looking man.

"This as you all know, is Boris Nabokov, the man believed to be behind the death of Executive Council Member Gate a year ago." The white haired man teased his beard a little as he spoke, he stood upright at the front of the briefing room, which was filled with about 20 people in all. He coughed, took a glass of water and nodded to a techie, who clicked again.

The shot changed, the same figure was drinking coffee. "We were planning on a 3 man team to hook up with Angel before moving down on the target, codename Venom's residence." he took another sip.
"However, around 48 hours go we received a transmission from Angel, sergeant.” he nodded.

The sergeant nodded and clicked at a few keys, the projector clunked again, before starting an .avi file.

“Angel reporting” crackled a girls voice over the picture of a living room, rather tastefully done. “We appear to have some sort of weird outbreak going on here.” she moved into view, a girl of around 17 appears with brown hair hanging low, she was wearing parts of the standard issue field equipment, a necessity it was deemed that she be equipped to take down and aid the strike group when they went after Boris. “Something to do with the water, I request extr-” glass behind her smashes and she squeals before spinning round with a Kesswig 9mm pistol in hand and blasts at the window, a figure gurgles and topples over. “Extraction, now, for God’s sa-” the camera crackles out and dies.

The man turns back to the mildly astonished faces and draws a breath.
“Project Valhalla may be considered to cleanse the area effected should it be deemed necessary. However, I want a strike team of 5 men to be ready to go find Angel, I brought you in here because I thought it necessary to show all of you involved in Valhalla as to what you could be needed to do, and to recognise Angel if you encountered her if and when you are deployed.

48 hours earlier, Northern Mesa

“Oh shit!” cried the girl as she smacked the camera “No, no, for God’s sake…”
Se heard a moan and a scrabbling by her door. She peered and looked at the windows, before dashing upstairs. The doors and windows should hold them off for several minutes, it was enough time to grab the rest of her gear and get moving.

She threw open a green case and grabbed a backpack out of it, she slung it onto her back before grabbing a Stuzi and packing her vest with as many magazines in the pockets as she could, cursing that the vest was too tight and her bosom was squashing closed some of the pockets that could fit magazines. She forced them into the pockets anyway, and made a note to use them first.
“Ok, ready…”

She clicked the safety off and began to go carefully back downstairs.

A man groaned and stumbled into view, the Stuzi chattered and cut him down.
A couple stumbled from the left, the Stuzi chattered again and she ran across her garden, vaulting the hedge she turned and shot a dog which was bounding right for her, maw open wide and slobbering bloody spittle.
She threw the clip to the floor and swapped it for another before stumbling into the road and looking around for some sort of communications that she could “borrow” to get a message out.

In the center of Northern Mesa, Far Realms forces had created a refuge against the zombies. They needed no firearms. They had simply raised the banner of Cthulhu in the town square.
People were listening to this strange and beautiful woman as she described the power of Cthulhu. Food laced with psychotropic toxins was being passed around. As people lost their minds, they would become dedicated servants of Great Cthulhu.

The Last Anarchy Order
Supreme Chancellor's Office

"Yes'" speaks the Chancellor, "we need action from as many black operatives in the region." He waits a few seconds, then speaks again. "Tell all of the leaders in the area, if possible, we need to send in operatives to first cleanse the area, then to rebuild it. This needs to be done as quickly and quietly as possible."

The Supreme Chancellor sits back in his chair. "Thank you General," he replies one final time before placing the bright red phone onto the reciever. Soon enough, his problems will be abolished, and a false accident report will be issued.

Northern Mesa
Inside the City

The road into the city is full of the creatures. It takes precision shooting, and 76 rounds of ammunition, to get Quell to this point. Still with plenty of ammunition, but hunger has been growing fast.

In the near distance, he sees a gathering of masses of people, in which are surrounding beings holding flags up. He immediately knows that this is not a Northern Mesa, nor Orderian flag.

Before any of them can see him, he rushes into a nearby building. Above the door he notices 103.9 NMNC Talk Radio. There appears to be no occupants, possibly they evactuated before the creatures took over the entire city.

Quell has an idea. The policeman walks into the boradcasting booth, and clicks the button that says "Boradcast" on it. The formerly white "On Air" sign turned to a cheap red color.

Looking into the microphone, he pleads, "Anyone friendly to The Last Anarchy Order and Northenr Mesa meet at the Shortstop Motel at the edge of town. Make haste, and be careful."

A clatter in the direction he came in gets his attention. Hmm, he says to himself, It is time to fight for humanity.

Northern Mesa
North City

Cracking off another dead-on shot that blew apart a rotting head, Boris grunted, frustrated with the pace things were going at. There must have been thousands upon thousands of the damn zombies in the city, and he had only shot eighty-five of them. After the twentieth shot, he had decided that he was going to be more picky with his targets. Apparently, that didn't make a difference. The going was slow, and he wasn't sure if his ammo would be enough to carry him through the city.

Crouching behind a car, Boris ripped out the spent 15-round banana-clip and chucked it with enough force to send it skidding far down the pavement. Popping in a fresh clip, he sighed. Rooting around in his backpack with an old, calloused hand, he found a granola bar to munch on for a bit before the zombies remassed. Then he heard the radio inside the car. Apparently somebody had left the key in the ignition before they ran off on a brain-hungry spree. Or perhaps tried to flee from it, only to be ripped to shreds when the monsters' numbers became too great. Whatever the case, Boris didn't care. He did care, however, about the radio's announcement. No sound had been coming from it until now. Opening the unlocked door, he reached for the volume just in time to hear the last part.

"...at the Shortstop Motel at the edge of town. Make haste, and be careful."

That was five blocks from his current position. With the wonderful find he had just made of a car ready for the taking, he could be there in no time. And he could plow into anything that go into his way. Whoever it was, they probably weren't after him. As much as he liked to work alone, he knew that he might need a helping hand to get out of this mess. Who knew how far out the zombies were? Maybe the entire area--no, the entire country could be overrun with these creatures! Maybe even the entire region. He had no way of knowing for sure.

There was little gas left in the tank, but it would be enough. Slamming the door shut, he turned the key and floored the gas pedal, making sure to smash into any stray zombies along the way.

The street had become practically abandoned after a few tense minutes, she had been standing out in the road for a while trying to pinpoint a spot where she could grab some form of communications, no such luck it seemed right now.

A car screeched around a corner and drove straight at her, with a cry she dived out of the way as the car bombarded down the street, she scraped her elbow on the road and hit the curb.
“What. The. Hell?” she panted as she peered back out from behind a battered and blood-covered car.

After a few moments and deep breathes she got up and peered around again, the car had vanished in the one direction, she could still see it, it turned suddenly and vanished.
She blinked and thought for a moment, a man with a beard had been driving it, she was sure.

But which way had he gone? She frowned as she tried to think which way the car could have gone. Supplies and safety were becoming key thing here, evidently.

The Motel? That was only two blocks away, got to be the Mall, it can be secure and will have necessary supplies for most folks.

She got up and began to sprint, her backpack clinking a little as she ran, her hair billowing behind her.

Two blocks, five minute walk, two minute run she thought to herself as she crossed the abandoned street, stopping for a moment to gun down a couple of stray zombies.

Thank God I didn’t drink the water, damn foreign places, always good advice when abroad, this is certainly an odd disease if ever there was one....

She crossed the second street and ran into the car park, she glanced around checking nothing was going to sneak up on her before running across and into the entrance of the Motel.

Inside it was deathly quiet.
Too quiet.

“Hello? Anyone here?” she called out and peered around, she walked cautiously over to the main desk and set her backpack down.

Ehat directed several of her new minions - and a few agents from the Far Realms - to head to the Shortstop Motel and ambush the refugees. They loaded a truck with zombies - their corpselike flesh now covered in strange sigils - and headed down to the Motel.

Northern Mesa
Shortstop Motel

On his way out of the radio station, Quell killed one of the vile creatures, just before getting ambushed by many more. Once again, he narrowly escapes without injury.

After the sprawl, he ran the entire way back to the hotel, adrenaline taking over. Strangely, he faced no more resistance on the way.

He reaches the Shortstop Motel in less than 5 minutes, and enters the main office. A dead body lays in the corner, killed by a self inflicted guns hot. The smell is beginning to get to Quell when he steps outside.

Still, nothing is in the area. The quiet burns in his ears, more deafening than an explosion. Something is about to happen.

(OOC: The Far Realms, please try to start making your posts much longer, they have been much too short.)

Northern Mesa
Inside the City

The capital was a was mess. Car and debris everywhere and Zombies and corpse can not leave your sight. The radio was dead for so long that when it came on it was quite the surprise because they though it was off. "Anyone friendly to The Last Anarchy Order and Northern Mesa meet at the Shortstop Motel at the edge of town. Make haste, and be careful." came on the radio.

"the shortstop inn..." said Jack aloud to Jim, "Isn't that it there?" Jack pointed to a large building on the other side of the street. "It was a good thing too it was on the edge of the city," thought Jack, "driving though the debris and cars would be hard and attract attention while walking would offered us little protection." Jim pull into the hotel.

Jim and Jack check all the mirrors to make sure there was nothing around, they took as many supplies as we could and started head in. They passed a car on the way in but didn't see anyone in it so just passed along side of it. When they did though Jack tripped and drop his shotgun and quite a few of the supplies, there was something grabbing his leg! Jack Reached for the shotgun but it was out of reach now, he then pull his knife but he could only stab too late as the things mouth was open and ready, It mouth was all around Jacks leg. "Not my leg!" was the last thing Jack shouted before he heard a loud shot. Jack couldn't see the zombie to well being underneath the car but he did see the head of Zombie being disconnected from it body in one loud bang. Jim pulled his shotgun out of the car. "Nice shot," Jack said after he got back up and collected his supplies, "but a little higher and it could of hit my leg... Not that I'm complaining or anything."

OOC: Sorry. Hope you like my spreading terror and general insanity around town.

James Kobain drove the truck along the road, insane thoughts playing in his head. He was deciding how they should attack the motel to cause the maximum amount of psychological damage.

One idea was to begin by sending in a few zombies soaked in gasoline and lit on fire. That would scare the people out!

Another idea involved having some of the soldiers wear captured police uniforms. By sowing distrust in the government, people would be driven to find another refuge - like Great Cthulhu.

Kobain decided to try that. He parked the car at a police station. Soldiers raced in and looted SWAT uniforms, rifles, and some explosives.

They also found a surviving police officer. They decided that for this mission, they would need to curry Cthulhu's favor.

They cleaned off a desk, and handcuffed the officer in place. Time for a sacrifice to the Elder Gods.

Northern Mesa
Inside the City

Jim made a quick survey of the place that he for some reason thought he may die in. It looked like a pretty rudimentary motel, so just the sort of place for what was increasingly feeling like a bad B movie. However this bad B-movie appeared to be out to kill him and he was damned if he was going to die in it without taking a lot of them with him.

He was a measured man and knew the power of the rage that he held within him over his families death. When he unleashed it he knew that he would slaughter all of the creatures in his path whilst living to tell the tale. Blood lust could be a powerful thing.

For now he just carried his kit towards the building, hoping that there were enough people within to withstand the siege that may or may not come. The front of his pickup was covered in bloodstains from creatures that he had run over on his way here and he looked back at it as he walked away, instinctively clicking the remote locking device. Fat lot of good that would be.

The cultists began chanting "Cthulhu ftagn! Cthulhu ftagn!" as Kobain began the sacrifical procedure. First, he ripped off the cop's clothing. Then he drew a sigil on the man's chest - in blood.

Now came the grisly part. The man's belly was slashed open, and his entrails spilled out. They impaled the man's thighs with a metal pole. Finally, they took him outside, and hung him from a flagpole.

Anyone who came to the police station looking for weapons would see this grisly body. This would only add to the trauma. The end result was to push people closer and closer to true madness, where they would fall into the grasp of Cthulhu.

Northern Mesa
Shortstop Motel

Screeching to a halt, Boris glanced around. The warning light on the gas tank had been on for the duration of the ride; apparently, the previous owner hadn't filled it recently. Conscious of the potential value of every drop of gasoline, the gruff man turned the key, killing the engine.

There were already people here, and it was clear they weren't zombies. They didn't hungrily lunge at the car, and they were a little too steady and clean-looking. However, just because they weren't zombies didn't mean they weren't dangerous. Making sure that his carbine was visible, Boris opened the door and stepped out.

With a deep voice, the man addressed everyone around him.

"I hear that this might be a good place to be right now."

Northern Mesa
Shortstop Motel

Quell hears vehicles pull up to the motel. He walks out of the office, eyeing two men, one almost to the office and the other exiting a car. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he approaches the men.

"The name is Quell, and it appears, we have a big problem on our hands. Qucikly, let us get inside." He motions for them to come towards him

In the far distance he believes he hears chanting. Something is about to happen.

Northern Mesa
Shortstop Motel

Jim was surprised to find that there was actually somebody there. He had half expected it to be either a prank or just another dead body ready to try and kill him.

Twice in the last minute he had aimed his shotgun, firstly at the figure who had stepped out of the car, a tough military looking guy much like his companion, and then again at another who appeared from inside the Motel.

Well he thought looks like im the weediest of all of us, just brilliant.

He followed the man back into the office with his gear which he dumped on the table before unscrewing the cap of a bottle of water and downing the lot in several quick gulps he threw the empty bottle into a bin. He quickly checked what little combat gear he had, slightly tightening the strings on his vest and subconciously checking the reach to his holstered pistol.

Maybe it was his ears, or maybe the sound was getting louder. Either way he wished he had more weapons and most of all more ammunition.

Angel jumped as some people came back into the motel, she must have accidentally slipped past them all.
“Um, Hi! Um, I followed a car here and um.” she was freezing up. One of them was indeed her target and as such she was nervous. When she saw how tired he seemed, she softened slightly and relaxed.
“I’m Angel, I came here as a student and, well, kind of found this stuff,” she made a casual flick to her garments, “I think it was my Uncle’s or something.” she shook her head and loosened her hair slightly.

“Look, have any of you thought of getting outside help, and anybody got some sort of radio?” she looked around each of them. “We could get some help from the outside? I tried contacting folks from back home, but I dunno when they might get here, and I dunno how to call them.” she shrugged.

“So, who are you guys anyway?” she asked with a slight smile.

She then heard a strange sound and creased her brow and pursed her lips.
“Um, wait, what’s that?”

Northern Mesa
Shortshtop Hotel

Quell hears the noise just as Angel does. The grip on the handle of his XM-8 tightens. The instincts he has aquired start. "Everyone, get your weapons ready! Somethings coming, and it ain't gonna be a pretty sight."

We may die right here, thought Quell, but I sure would like to take that woman out.

Throwing down a suddenly empty bottle of water, he begins to open the door, just in time to see a truck full of the creatures hearding for him.

He takes down two immediatly. "Out the back door , now!" He commands whilst closing the door, and turning over a filing cabinet to bar it. "Go!"

Northern Mesa
Shortstop Motel

Boris saw that the woman recognized him, though he didn't recognize her. In his former line of business, that was never a good sign. He would have to keep an eye out.

Once the commotion started, he realized that maybe he wouldn't get a break.

"Fuck."

Unloading his carbine into the truck filled with zombies barreling towards them, he followed the others through the back door. Quell seemed to be a natural leader--at least, for now. Boris figured he'd find out just how well these people could handle themselves under intense pressure, assuming he didn't die first.

That woman, though...he had a feeling she would be his worst problem.

Northern Mesa
The Streets of the City

"Fire! Fire" barks Quell at the party. Guns blazing and heads shattering, they continue to run chaoticlly through the city. The man in from the second care seems to be an awesome shot. Once again, heads continue to shatter.

He has to think fast, his training clicks in his mind, and he has an idea. "Everyone follow me, we are going to the top of one of these buildings," screams Quell as he enters a building labeld 'Orderian Federal Bureu'.

There has to be a driect line back to the Last Anarchy order from there. There has to.

The Last Anarchy Order
Helipad in Fathom

The metal blades of the helicopter stirs up the dust on the ground. Three men are present, one of which is in the cockpit. "Private, my name is Lieutenant Brian Brennan. And today, you have the chance of a lifetime.
It seems that our colony of Northern Mesa has become plagued by an unknown disease, which takes control of your body and allows you to be manipulated into many acts. Our job is to rescue one of our own. His name is Sergent Jim Sebranek.

He was formerly serving with the Death Squads of SAVX, but is now in the Orderian Police, and is a valuable asset to the country. Private Gene SAmter, do you accept this mission with C.O.B.R.A.?"

"Sir, yes sir!" replied the young man in military dress. Both of the men walk onto the helicopter and prepare for a rescue mission. Following GPS, they would soon find the man nicknamed Quell.

Northern Mesa
Orderian Federal Bureu

The first thing Jack did when he got inside was picking up various things has fast has he could to barricade the door. He knew it wouldn’t stop them, but it would slow them down. He didn’t take long doing this because he didn’t want to be left behind. He then saw the elevators and the stairs. The elevators were open but the group seem to take the stairs, this was probably because in most building only the stairs went to the roof. Either way, Jack took his shotgun and blew out the mechanism that selected the floor in the first one and in the second he selected the top floor and ran out again. If they wanted to use the elevators, they were going to have to wait a while. Jack sprinted up the stairs to catch up with the group.

{OOC: I don't know what a Orderian federal bureu is, so if this dosn't fit I'll change it}

Northern Mesa
The Staricase of the Orderian Federal Bureau

The group had been climbing staris for what seemed to be days. Quell has no idea what they will do when they get to the top. He only knows that somewhere in this building is a phone that has a direct landline into Fathom, the capital of The Last Anarchy Order.

"Everyone, we have a good while before they are going to on our heels. Lets take a break from all of this running around. My name actual name is Jim Sebranek. My nickname is Quell, due to wha tI have done with the SAVX Death Squads. I had a very high kill rate, before I transferred to the Orderian Police. I can tell that you aren't all from fantastic backgrounds youself. Who are you all?'

The Kingdom of the Midlands
International Airspace

The pilot turns around and looks at the two men. "Three hours before ETA."

Northern Mesa
The Staricase of the Orderian Federal Bureau

Jim slumped down against the wall, glad for the rest at last. His blood was pumping and the shotgun was now dangerously low on ammunition. He removed a bottle of water from his rucksack and began took a quick slurp before offering it around.

"Jim Hendrix. Don't even bother with the jokes, heard 'em all before. Pretty average life, two years in the Army before heading out for normal life. Guess im divorced now. Could do with some ammo though. Thats about it"

"You...huff...know...huff.." Angel panted as she continued to walk up yet another set of stairs, everyso often stopping to check her trousers weren't chafing. "We're cutting ourselves off from escape completely by coming... huff... up these stupid stairs." she stopped for a moment on the landing everyone had stopped on, then checked her trousers properly and straightening out her top.

"So, Quell, I'm Angel, a student round here, locals aren't really too freindly any more." her face was still red from climbing up the stairs and her hair was beggining to go knotted and strayed from all the physical exortion. "Came over to study here, experience another culture." She looked around.
"Any clue on how to call anybody? Cause we're not going to be able to escape now you've led us up here. For an ex soldier you haven't thought much through huh?" She tilted her head and sighed and then sobbed. "We're all gunna die." she collapsed, onto a step and exhaustion finally overwhelmed her and she began to cry.

Following the sacrificial ceremony, Kobain and Co put on SWAT uniforms. They also borrowed a SWAT van. This was a brilliantly evil idea.

Fifteen minutes after they left the police station, they arrived at the Shortstop Motel.

Northern Mesa
Orderian Federal Bureau

The travel was strenuous, but Boris had, in his line of work, done plenty of jobs that required far more amazing physical feats. His breathing was harder than usual...then again, he wasn't getting any younger. At fifty years old, everything was slowly getting harder. Everything except shooting and lying.

Boris could barely hide his shock. A former SAVX Death Trooper? That meant this man could supposedly--after all, any public "knowledge" of the Death Squads was purely hearsay and rumor--kill everyone around him in the blink of an eye without dropping a bead of sweat. No wonder he had those scars...and such a well-built body. As long as Quell didn't suffer from the insanity that most Death Troopers supposedly did, then maybe they would make it out of this alive.

It took Boris a moment to get Jim's comment on the jokes, but then he remembered something about a famous rock star. Boris liked classical and jazz, so it wasn't something he was very aware of. A former soldier, though...that was good in terms of chances for survival.

The woman, Angel, the one who had seemed to recognize him, was causing quite a ruckus over what he considered nothing more than a mild workout. As for the crying, Boris had seen people break down before many times...albeit, not so soon. Still, it didn't mean she couldn't be a threat. Time would tell.

Sensing that it was his turn, Boris scratched his short, scruffy beard and introduced himself with a rather common alias he used with people who weren't his targets. Same name, edited story.

"My name is Boris Nabokov. I come from SAVX, but I've been living here the past few years. I received sharp-shooting training in the SAVX military. I've mostly lived my life as a...carpenter."

Boris shrugged and grinned mischeviously, revealing surprisingly healthy teeth.

"Now I'm just an old man who wants to settle down, drink a bit, and find some young women. Guess we can't all get our wish, eh? Heh."

Northern Mesa
High in the Stairs of the OFB

A loud bang at the bottom of the staircase makes Quell jump. "Oh shit." He says, an expression of definate hatred in his eyes. "I need everyone to get to the roof of the building as fast as possible. Get up there and bar the door shut. Do not worry about me, I repeat, do not worry about me. I will be fine." He leans over the railing of the stairs to look down and see movement way below.

He pulls the charging handle on the XM-8, and turns back to face everyone. He puts his hand on Angel's shoulder. She turns and looks at him in the eyes. "You are not going to die today. Knowing my government and my status, there should be a rescue team heading here soon."

Quell then leans towards Boris, and quietly whispers to him, "I know who you are. I want you to take care of these people. If you cooperate, I can find you a way out of the allegations against you, regardless if they are true."

Quell then begins running down the stairs.

(OOC:The Far Realms, please stop posting in here. Your entries are way too short and are talking of events that have already happened.)

OOC: Where have I talked of events that have already happened?
And I apologize for short posts. I am an instinctual summarizer.

Northern Mesa
In the City

Lieutenant Brian Brennan and Private Gene Samter had finally entered Northern Mesa Airspace. The ground below is a disaster, filled of hideous creatures, tearing what appears to be survivors to pieces. The worst thought is that they have to land.

Lt. Brennan looks at Pt. Samter and says, "We are going to have to go the rest of the way on foot to find Sgt. Sebranek. None of your training can possibly prepare you for this. The pilot will continue to circle until we get the target safe and secure, then he will pick us up." He pauses for a moment to look at Samter. With a nod of Pt. Samter's head, Lt. Brennan straps himself to a cable and jumps out of the helicopter. Pt. Samter follows suit.

When they reach the tarmac, they no longer talk. Incessant shooting and a strategic movement towards the target building are the only communication. Two blocks away from the Orderian Federal Bureu they set up an explosive charge.

After the charge is detonated, the gigantic group of the beings around the building flock it's way. This gives the soldiers a chance to move into the building. Hell does not describe it.

(OOC: Far Realms, in an RP you need to have good posts that speak in detail about the events that are happening. In even your last post you talked of the motel when we had already left it ages ago. Please cease posting.)

OOC: Very well. I will withdraw from this RPG.

Northern Mesa
High in the Stairs of the OFB

Boris swore to himself. Clearly, he was a little more well-known than he wanted to be. However, now it seemed like he had little other recourse than to do what Quell wanted.

"Sure, sure. I'll take care of them."

High in the Stairs of the OFB

Angel sniffled a little more, then glumly got up and began to clump up the stairway. There had to be a way to get a message out, there just had to be.

She knew that it'd be at least 24 hours before they'd be getting ready down at Project Valhalla, then actually getting here, Boris could slip away, if he slipped away there was likely no way in hell they'd pick him up again.
Not for a damn long time.

Quell whispered something to Boris, Angel pricked slightly but carried on clanging up the stairs, there was little she could do right now, and if they were both from SAVX....

It didn't bear thinking about really. One operative, an itel operative to boot against two ex-death Squadmen.

Be much better when the "ToyBox" was unleashed, they just needed to hold out for two days or so.
Two very, very long days.

High in the Stairs of the OFB

Jim shouldered his shotgun in a very American gesture and began climbing the stairs in silence. He knew that they would need more supplies and ammo if they were going to hide out in this place away from the creatures below. Unfortunately it appeared that the building may have the latter but probably not the former, and there was always the chance that some of the former occupants may have been "turned" and still be around to guard things.

Putting the thoughts aside for a second he voiced his concerns to the other members of the party along with the suggestion that they should maybe search a floor or two on the way up for supplies, whilst mentally counting his rounds.

Fifteen shotgun shells and 45 9mm rounds.

He didn't think it was enough for the indefinite future.

Northern Mesa
The Hellish Stairwells of the OFB

The ammo in the back slung around Quell is almost empty. He has twenty-three rounds left in this clip, and only one more clip only consisting of one hundred rounds. It is becoming a losing race. Then, a bit down the shaft, he hears an explosion, followed by shots from an XM-8.

The rescue team has arrived. Although it will only be a few men, they should be able to help for as long as possible. The creatures between the two groups are suddenly dropping, until he can finally see them. "Orderians! I am Sgt. Jim Sebranek. Watch your fire and get up here!"

The two men selectively shoot the creatures between them. They finally are infront of Quell. "Sir," speaks Lt. Brennan, "my name is Lt. Brennan, and this is Pt. Samter. We have been ordered to extract you and take you back to Fathom."

"There are other people in in here too, they are moving to the roof. You have to-"

"Sir, we have been ordered to extract only you." Quell stares at him for a few seconds.

"Fine." The first four letters that come out of his mouth that will not demean the Lt. 'That is the plan for now, but we will see when the authority changes."

*********************************************************

Working their way back up, the Orderians face little resistance. It appears that they are finally getting closer to the roof when Quell eyes a security door. "Lt. Brennan, why would their be a maximum security door in a Federal Bureau?" The Lt. shrugs at Quell. Knowing his authority in the government, Jim Sebranek places his finger on the keypad. The metal door opens.

The room is empty, until he gets to the computer on the large board table. He taps the 'enter button.

On the profector screen are statistics about what appears to be a virus. A virus designed to turn people into mindless zombies. He clicks through the pages, feeling desperate. He sprints over to the phone on the desk and presses the PA choice on the phone. "Boris, I need you to come down to floor eighty six, and come into the room." He places the phone back onto the receiver, only to be met with a gun barrel on the back of his head.

"Sgt. Sebranek, all you had to do was come with us and leave this place. We have been given orders to suppress you if you found out the truth."

"What?" says Quell, suprised.

"The Supreme Chancellor ordered this operation to send in trainees for the C.O.B.R.A., and to see who the survivors are in the area. You being here complicated matters. We had to remove you as fast as possible so the score was not altered.

Quell sits shocked, waiting for Boris to arrive.

Northern Mesa
The Hellish Stairwells of the OFB

Boris had been sipping from a bottle of high-quality Vodka in his backpack. Angel asked him why he would waste time bringing something like that with him.

"Do you have any idea how valuable this stuff is? If I'm going to die, it won't be without this. Best damned stuff in the entire region."

"What if you get drunk? Then what? You won't be able to fight!"

"Heh heh, my family comes from the rough wilderness regions of Euroslavia. I've got hearty blood, and a liver that can keep me going a hell of a lot longer than anybody else I know. Trust me, you won't have to worry your pretty little head."

Right after that, Boris heard the intercom buzz with Quell's voice, requesting his presence. Grudgingly, the grizzly man got up from his sitting position. "What is it now?" he thought to himself, irritated. Remembering that he was currently in charge, he turned to the others.

"Stay here, I guess."

Boris began his travel down the stairs. Once he reached the proper floor, he kicked in the door, not expecting to need any sort of caution in this place.

"What is--"

He did not expect the newcomers. When he saw that one was holding a gun to Quell's head, he raised his carbine, ready to blow someone's head off.

"What the hell's going on here?"

Northern Mesa
The Breifing Room

"Boris, keep your gun aimed at them, but walk over to the computer and see waht is on it. My government did this. A 'test' if you will." Quell seems rather calm in this situation. Boris edges his way to the computer.

The Private does not know what to think. He was told that this is a rescue mission, not an assassination. He has to act now, for what is good in humanity.
Once again, a metal barrel is placed to the back of a head, but this time, to lt. Brennan. "Sir, put the gun down," demands Pt. Gene Samter. Lt. Brennan moves only his eyes towards Samter.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing? Stand down!"

"Put down your weapon now, sir!"

"I am in command. We have to kill this traitor!" A gunshot rings through the room. A single .45 round tearing through bone and brain.

"You are a traitor," speaks Gene Samter to the bloody corpse on the ground.
Quell doesn't say a word, he only turns around, picks up the sidearm from the dead man, and stands up.

"Thanks Samter," states Quell. "You are a true hero." Quell extend his hand, and Samter immediately shakes it. "What is your first name Mr. Samter?"

"My anme is Gene," he replies, " I don't think I am working for the government anymore." Gene rips the military insignia from the should of his uniform. "Its time we get the hell out of here." A still shocked Boris looks at the two.

Quell simply states, "Boris, it looks like we are now in the same boat as you. We are going to be considered dead for this place will be entirely leveled. Lets move." The three exit the hellish room with Gene carrying the laptop, thir proof to show to the universe.

The V44 VTOL helicopter rippled the air around it as it set down onto the large metalic decking, with a whine of hydraulics a rear ramp unfolded. Maintenence crew dashed forward and began the process to rapidly turn the craft around for take off.

"Commander Deakin." nodded the figure as he stepped forward. He was middle-aged, and was wearing a Baseball cap, with the outline of a Destroyer on it.
"Captain Mardukus." Nodded the grey bearded figure.
"Any news on your daughter yet?"
"No, she sent a transmission about some sort of outbreak from her posting, in Northern Mesa"
"I see"
"Prepare a breifing for the commanders."
"Yes Commander." nodded Mardukus before saluting and running away quickly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Angel sighed and rested her head in her hands. She had left the Stuzi next to her, fresh clip locked in and ready.
She hated it here. She never really loved it, but she felt she was doing her job. She had enjoyed trying to find this Boris. Now she was forced to work with him in order to survive.
Oh Cosmic Irony. As her father used to say.

She sighed again and looked out onto the skyline, it seemed that the local authorities were incompetent and doing nothing to help of limit the problems here. A weakened nation, typical of the ones Midlonia would pry on for Colonial expansion and domination.
Such was the existence of the Greater Kingdom.