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Keep Calm and Shoot First



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Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:02 am
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Rydia says...



The Premise

Everyone has guns. The people who didn't have guns most likely got shot by the people who did have guns so now even those who can't shoot are carrying them and poking them in other people's faces.

But if you can't shoot, you're probably the next to die because the way to survive is to Keep Calm and Shoot First.

It wasn't always this way. When the aliens first landed they were trying to fit in. They changed their bodies to resemble ours and got jobs, went to school, even made friends. Their home planet had been destroyed and they didn't want to invade ours - they just wanted to live in peace.

Then the shooting happened. It was ordinary enough - an over worked husband got tired of it one day and he went home and shot his wife and young son. It was nasty but people saw it in the papers all the time. The aliens had been seeing it in the papers for six years but they'd always put it down to humans doing something wrong to upset one another. But not this time. This time the wife wasn't a human and the baby wasn't all human either. This time they couldn't understand.

The aliens knew only that they couldn't live with the humans any more. They couldn't trust them. So they took up arms and went to war.

The Now

Ten years have passed and nobody is sure of anything any more except that you'd better carry a gun and you'd better shoot first, otherwise they might shoot you. Some people have claimed that the aliens eventually all died out because their immune systems couldn't handle the human illnesses and now it's just people shooting people. Others think the aliens were never real anyway and they didn't believe those eye witness accounts who heard the aliens talking about the dredges of humanity or that news broadcast which was just sad really that such a lovely presenter had to go crazy and think he was an alien and kill all those nice people.

Whether the aliens were ever there or not, some people have realised that they can't live like this. Pilfering the same grocery shops for food that's not there any more or shooting a farmer in the head because he might be an alien and because you really needed his cow. These people have formed the peace-makers and they have a sanctuary and they grow food and they go around asking people to join them and shoot anyone who says no.

Afterall, there's only so much peace to be had in a world where everyone has guns.

The Claims

Humans
1. @Rydia
2. @jumpingsheep
3. @Verser
4. @Deskro
5.
6.
7.
8.

Half alien/human children
1. @Stegosaurus
2. @15253
3. @PerksOfBeingAReader
4.
5.

The Characters

You can have a human or a half alien half human child. These children can be no older than 15 because the aliens came here 16 years ago and it takes time to make a baby. They also do not know if all the adult aliens are dead or not. They don't know any who are alive, whether because they got shot or died of an illness and they're hiding out with their human parents or other people who have taken them in and trying to understand where they belong in this world. They know better than to tell anyone what they are and some of them might not even know. Not all the aliens were clear about their intentions.

Initially there will be 8 spaces open for humans and 5 open for half human half alien children. More spaces may be opened up if this proves popular but there will not be more than five half alien half human children.

Your characters may be with the peace-makers or in their own survivalist group or living with just their remaining family members or nobody at all. Feel free to check people's profiles and to work with them to create one of their existing family members.

Template for humans:

Code: Select all
[[b]Name: [/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Gun:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]
[b]Family:[/b]
[b]Strengths:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]


Template for alien-human children:

Code: Select all
[b]Name: [/b]
[b]Age: [/b] (15 or under)
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Gun:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b] (They look human. None have learned how to change their form and it is unknown if it is possible)
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]
[b]Family:[/b]
[b]Manifestations:[/b] (Every half alien child has made something strange happen at some point in their teen years. Maybe they changed their eye colour or maybe they once picked up a cup and it changed into a ball. These would have all been small scale and no more than once every few months starting from the age of 11 or 12.)
[b]Strengths:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]


The Guns

You may have no gun if you choose but if you're an adult you'd better have a good story of how you survived without one. If you're a child then no guns is fine.

If you know nothing about guns like me then you can choose one from the series The Walking Dead: http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/Firea ... ve_Weapons


If you have any questions then come find me in the DT!
Writing Gooder

~Previously KittyKatSparklesExplosion15~

The light shines brightest in the darkest places.





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Mon Sep 14, 2015 8:00 pm
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Rydia says...



Liam Finch

It was a grey morning as Jones and Finch trekked away from the settlement. Finch had most of their supplies in a worn medical bag bumping against his hip and Jones had all the guns. They'd been gone almost an hour before the trees thinned out and their boots crunched on a stone path.

"It's not right though. Them kids of yours-"

"Don't." Finch crouched to examine the trail of broken branches and then pointed to the left.

"I'm only sayin' they spend all their time in that room and it's not normal. It aint like kids-"

"They've been through a lot." Finch fixed the bigger man with a flat stare and thought about breaking his nose. Jones held his hands up in a mock surrender but his stance was relaxed.

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying that if I looked like you, I'd get them a mother." The big man winked.

Finch snorted but as much as he wished it wasn't proving so hard to blend in at the Settlement, he had to admit that looking like Jones wasn't top of his list of solutions. The man was build like a prison and twice as ugly with long, untamed hair and a big, bulbous nose.

"Well you've gotta find something to do with all that time you're gonna have when they stop letting you come out here. You keep with the not shooting and the letting people go and you'll have time to make a whole shitting hoard of the little-"

"Jones!"

"I'm just ribbing you. Seriously though, you just stick with me and let me do the shooting."

Finch shook his head in frustration and wondered how it came to this. How he'd come to be walking around wearing a white shirt covered in the word 'PEACE!' while the man walking beside him in matching garments was carrying an arsenal on his back and would rather shoot first and ask questions later.

"Just let me do the talking then maybe we won't have to shoot anyone."

"But if we do gotta shoot... look, man. I'm only sayin' hows we need to not let anyone come back to screw us. We've only a few hundred behind them walls now but one day it'll be thousands and we-"

Finch tuned him out and squinted into the distance where someone was standing, watching them. That someone had a gun and they didn't look like they wanted to be asked any questions. Finch couldn't tell if they were alone - there could easily be another five of them hiding nearby - but he tapped Jones on the arm and raised his hands to show off the decorated sleeves of his shirt. Maybe the blood stain amid the carefully marked PEACE would pass for tomato ketchup.

"Hey! We'd like to talk," Finch called out. "Please. Hear what we've got to say."
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Mon Sep 14, 2015 9:09 pm
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jumpingsheep says...



Maggie Johnson

It’s almost six in the morning when the alarm goes off, a shrill shriek in the otherwise peaceful morning. I instinctively jump up, throwing on a pair of sweats and grabbing the gun next to my sleeping bag. Already, I can hear the other kids in the upstairs dormitories; their feet thumping on the floor as they jump out of their beds and arm themselves to the tooth.

I step out of the office and into the dark corridor, where the alarm is blaring at full volume. Casper runs up to me, his black hair matted and wild. “Is it an animal!?” he yells over the cacophony, his fingers pressed in his ears.

I shrug. “I don’t know! Get Clara and Ethan, and assemble a firing squad on the roof! Take the younger kids to the shelter.”

Casper nods and sprints upstairs to the dorms, jumping up the stairs two at a time. I start running down towards the main office, where the security cams are. Usually it’s a wild animal, or maybe a wayward child. But sometimes it’s a lot more threatening. Like rogues, or bandits.

We’ve had bandits before, and “United States of the Ibson School”, or the USI for short, wasted the bandits’ clan in a matter of minutes.

What I’m worried about are survivalist groups. I’ve seen a few on supply runs, and they’re well equipped, well disciplined, and could take us out in a matter of minutes. Some of them even have names. One of them, the Disciples, completed demolished a camp not too far from here. We could smell the smoke from our school.

I reach the office and pull up the last ten minutes of security footage. I can see a shy deer leap past the west side camera. No Disciples today. I exhale a sign of relief and sling my gun back over my shoulder.

Over the PA system, I send out an “all clear”, and the kids all meet in the main foyer of the school, an airy, two floor atrium, with an oak staircase extending up to the dorms and meeting rooms. The students look sharp; all the younger ones are awake and dressed and the elder kids are armed and ready for battle. I remember the old days, how sloppy our preparations used to be. We’ve gotten so much more disciplined, that’s for sure.

I motion for Clara and Ethan to come stand with me on the stairs, and tell them to take attendance. Casper and I head upstairs to the dorms.

In the wake of the alarm I find eleven kids still asleep in their bunks, having slept through the commotion. I’m astounded by this. I clap my hands and walk down the hall. “Let’s go, let’s go, look alive!”

They stumble out of their rooms and assemble in the hallway, bleary eyed and confused.

“I’ll fill you all in,” I say. “We just had an intruder on the west side and just had a full arms assembly. Meanwhile, you lot were asleep!”

Annoyance prickles inside me. As good as we’ve gotten, some kids still don’t seem to get it. I walk down the hall pointing to each kid as I do so. “Let’s see, if that was a real drill, you’d be dead, you’d be dead, dead, dead, bullet in head.”

They’re eyes all widen, as if this is news to them. “From now on, I expect you to be the first up. I’m putting you all on laundry duty for next week.” They all nod vigorously, no one saying a word.

I head back downstairs, and call out one of the older students. “Trinity?”

Trinity, a girl with long, red hair, steps out of the crowd. “Yeah?”

“When I say check the rooms, you need to check the rooms. I had eleven kids still asleep.”

“Sorry,” Trinity says sheepishly. “I thought it was a drill.”

“It’s never a drill,” I respond. “We always assume we’re under attack. Always. The Disciples won’t be as forgiving as me. Look alive or end up dead.”

Look alive or end up dead,” whispers Ethan. “I want that on a motivational poster. Or a tee shirt.”

We all laugh and I call for the group to fall out. As the assembly disbands as I remember one last announcement. “Breakfast is still at seven, even with the alarm! Those on breakfast duty better get cooking!”

Welcome to day 3,684 at the USI.
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Tue Sep 15, 2015 6:36 am
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Deskro says...



Troy Masters

“Ay, homie. We doin’ this?”

Troy looked up. His friend, Biz, was cocking his Mac 11. They had planned a raid, the only way they could survive in this wasteland.

“Yeah, man.”

Biz was like a brother to Troy, being childhood friends. Troy’s own brother, Russ, had been gunned down a little after the Alien crisis had arisen and Biz had been the one to take him under his wing. Biz, like most of the other young kids in his neighbourhood, had involved themselves in gangs. Biz had been a long time member of the “Fallen Kings”. It didn’t take much persuasion for Troy to join, he had lost his family and he needed a method to survive.

“Yo, I heard “The Disciples” hit a camp a couple days back,” said Biz.

“Oh yeah? Well as long as they don’t hit none of our spots or mess with us, they good.”
Troy slung his AK-47 on his back, and holstered his magnum. Biz rounded up some more of the Fallen.

"Brick, Rag and Double J are the only cat's around," he reported.

Brick was as dense as his name and twice as hard. He was muscle bound and towered over the others. More like a gang bodyguard, he punched and asked questions later. Something in which he relished.

Rag was scrawny. Nine times out of ten he was high as a kite. He was used more like a scout due to his uncanny endurance. The drugs made him nearly immune to pain but his brain was almost scrambled. Despite being neither reliable nor unreliable, he was still a force to be reckoned with in a brawl.

Finally, Double J was one of the few females who held a position in “The Fallen Kings.” Intelligent and strong, she was one of Troy’s advisors. She knew how to manipulate the men and proved a valuable asset when Troy lost control.

They all pulled deuces in a "K", in a mark of respect.

"Let's roll."

The five gangsters set out for another raid. Troy listened to his bangers squabble over their targets.

“We should hit that school, brah. I bet they got a shit-ton of supplies.”

“They’re just kids, yo.”

“Half them aliens anyways, Dub. Who cares?” said Brick

Troy turned around. “Yo shut up, fools. We gon’ hit his camp, get our shit and get out, aite? We don’t need none of our asses getting popped off, ya hear?”

The gangsters grumbled but quietened down.

After about half an hour of walking, Troy noticed two men in the distance.

“Yo homies, get down!” The gangbangers dispersed and hid in some nearby shrubs. Troy grabbed his gun and squinted. The figures neared and he noticed one old guy and another big dude. Not as big as Brick, but big enough.

“What it do?” said Biz.

“Man they those damn 'Whiteshirt' punks.” The “peace-makers” thought they were doing good. To other survivalist groups they were just another gang, but more like police. Some even hated them more than the Aliens.

He heard the old timer call out. “Hey! We'd like to talk. Please. Hear what we've got to say."

“Screw that homie,” Troy heard Biz say, the others mumbled in agreement.

“Keep it down, ya’ll. He looks hurt, we can probably take them and grab they shit. Wait for my signal. Hit the muscle first.” The Fallen prepped their guns.

The two men got closer.

“Whatchu want, brothers?” Troy pulled a smile that was full of threat and gold teeth, finger on his trigger.





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Tue Sep 15, 2015 5:22 pm
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Poopsie says...



Alex

The man stood on the hill, yards away from where Alex sat, reclined in the branches of a low hanging tree, his eye down the sight of the ARX-160 he held in his hands. The man's partners cowered down in the shrubs making sure not to be seen. The two peacemakers came into sight and Alex felt a twist in his gut. Who dressed in Klu Klux white armed to the teeth with weapons and expected to be welcomed and obeyed? Of course they were always obeyed, but it seemed like the smug looking kid at the top of the hill intended to pull something stupid.

The peacemakers reached the top of the hill and reflexively, Alex aimed at the big one's head. He shook his head, closing his eyes. Today was not a day to kill peacemakers, today he would probably have to save them. The thought made him want to gag. He looked at the big one, a load of guns on his back. What was the big prick preparing for, an invasion? He looked to the other one, shorter and skinnier with deep blue eyes. He would be the leader of the two, the other one was probably to stupid to run a recon pattern if it were shouted in his ear for ten minutes. Alex looked back at the lead peacemaker and felt a stab of jealousy. He got to be a part of something, a member of an important "life-saving" group. All he had to do was sell his soul. Alex had found that harder and harder to do. To just not care anymore, to give up and become a killer, a raider. Of course he'd been raiding for years now, but that had been different. The people there had let him take their food because he gave back. he'd protected them, warded off bandits and made pacts with the damn peacemakers to protect them when he wasn't there.

Alex looked back at the bandits hiding in the shrubs, perhaps he could pick off some of them. Because of his silencer, they wouldn't know what hit them. He could probably take out two or three of them before they realized where the bullets were coming from. Then he realized what he was saying. Save peacemakers? As much as Alex hated that thought, he'd probably save them anyway. As much as he hated the word peacemaker, it was the person that mattered. However much he hated the peacemakers, he wouldn't kill a person just because of their title, he wasn't that man yet. He hoped he'd never have to be.

Alex zoned back in as the big peacemaker hefted his gun, the lead one looked irritated. The bandit looked smug. Alex smirked. The fighting would begin soon.
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Wed Sep 16, 2015 2:13 am
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Steggy says...



Tesa Marshall

It was a cold crisp morning- no that won't do I thought, erasing the beginning of the essay. I lightly tapped my pencil, when hearing the loud yelling coming from outside of my house. Annoying yelling from the war , I quietly reminded myself leaning in my chair looking outside, through my fogged window. My whole family was a mountain, covered by the thousands of rocks tumbling quietly. The war happening outside would scare the living daylights out of my family- including my older brother, Hanry. I mean, sure it was the war of aliens versus humans but if you think about it, we are the same- although we caused most killings in the local town.. but that isn't a reason!

"Tessie Marshall! Come here right now!" My Earth Mother yelled from the kitchen. I groaned holding an imaginary gun to my head; I could get a gun as from my dad or mom- both were trying to fight in the war and sometimes would come home, scarred and in someone else's blood. I continued down the hallway turning sharply into the kitchen where my mother leaned against the corner, drumming her fingers on the corner.'

"Tesa, could you explain the grades you got this school week?" She sternly asked. i glanced over on a table where I saw my name, hand-written by my teacher with a cursive note attach reading: We are sorry to info you but your daughter is failing school.

Unbelievable I thought, shaking my head. It was the school rules to never fail school and the main principal person was Maggie (or at least that is she went by). She had stated once that if you continue to fail the classes you are in, you will be shot; unfair rules in my opinion but such is life (for an alien/half human).

My mother's eyes- now a shade of emerald green- bore into my skull. I twisted my view away from her, looking at a stain on the kitchen counter.
Could be ketchup or blood I thought, trying to forget about the death glare I was receiving,

"You know what this means, Tesa?""
I shrug as my mother stammered in disgust as she grabbed the paper from the counter and started to scribble on it.

"What are you doing?"
"Nothing for your eyes, Tessie." My mother hissed, rushing past me into another room. I groaned.

Another day. Another hour I thought continuing to my room from the kitchen, where I saw Hanry flipping through channels. I saw from outside the window a clear view of the scenery- which was blocked out by blowing smoke towers. Why did we even need guns? All they was scare people and make those people seem like wimps since guns were a showing thing, rather than a real reason; just point a gun at someone's head and BOOM! They are scared.

I had asked Hanry this once and he gave me a snobby look- the ones people give you when they think you should know something. He had explained it countless times to me, in a language I would call 'boring' and 'skeptical upon races' but he fought in the War so I had to listen to him.

"The humans," as he would begin," were a species unlikes ours however, your mom- not your Earth mom- was a human. Hence why you are a half human/alien mutant."

"I am a mootant?"
Hanry bit his lip, before nodding. "This whole family is a mootant and the humans don't really see that- that is why they carrying guns and shot stuff. Heck, I saw someone in a tree just lounging about with a AK-47 in a tree! The outside is dangerous and for the sake of it, don't go out there."

It was buried deep into my mind that something was going right out there- a new life and new danger. My grades were dropping like the proud members of our species were on the battlefront- and I was going to be dropping too sooner or later.
You are like a blacksmith's hammer, you always forge people's happiness until the coal heating up the forge turns to ash. Then you just refuel it and start over. -Persistence (2015)

You have so much potential and love bursting in you. -Omnom





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jumpingsheep says...



Maggie Johnson

I’m eating breakfast when I hear Ethan call me from across the cafeteria.

“Maggie! You should probably come and see this!”

I slam my fork down and jump out of my seat. Just one meal. That’s all I’m asking for. One meal without interruptions.

I follow Ethan to the roof access. We scramble out and he hands me a pair of binoculars. “Fish saw these two gangs approaching each other on the east side. Thought you should take a look.”

I squint through the binoculars and in the distance. I can see two distinct groups. One of them are Peacemakers, donned in white shirts. Peacemakers, eh? This might be interesting. The other group is still a few miles away from the other. They looked like a run-of-the-mill gang.

I couldn’t tell which group I was more worried for. The Peacemakers may be more reluctant to shoot, but the man brandishing the gun would probably do something stupid and get himself hurt. Some don’t like the Peacemakers, but the Peacemakers take what they do seriously. Yeah, this dude’s gonna get himself shot if he tries anything.

I hand the binoculars back to Ethan. “Monitor the situation, but they don’t look like a threat to us. I’ll have the school go into blackout mode tonight, though, just to be on the safe side.”

Ethan nods and says “Wanna take bets on who comes out of this alive? My money’s on the gangsters.”

“I’ll hit you up on that.” Casper joins us on the roof. “I say it’s the Peacemakers. If not I’ll do your dinner duty. If I’m right, you’ll have to do the night watch tonight.”

The boys shake on it.

“What’s this?” Clara is the last member of the USI Council to join us on the roof. She’s my height, with dark skin and a poof of tight, black curls. Clara was my first friend that I made at the Ibson school, her sunny and bouncy personality sharply contrasting my painfully serious one.

“Just trying to decide who comes out of this fight,” says Ethan. “You wanna place a wager?”

“Uh… no. Maggie, maybe we could send some scouts, just to be on the safe side?”

I debate the option out loud. “I’m sure there are other gang members and Peacemakers in the surrounding woods. We don’t need an unnecessary casualty.”

“I want to go on a mission,” says Ethan. “I’m the sharpest shooter we have here. Me and you, Maggie. Dream team. Super squad. Whatdaya say?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Casper and Clara, you guys are in charge. We’ll be back before sundown.”

Ethan and I head down to the foyer to gear up. “Yo, Maggie,” he says. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we just snipe one member of each group and watch the situation descend into chaos?”

“So funny I forgot to laugh.”

“Aw, c’mon, I bet both sides have a ton of supplies. And we’re low on med kits.”

“We’ll see. I don’t want a repeat of the Kayenta incident.”

“Ha, the Kayenta incident,” says Ethan as we head out the door and start walking. “Now there’s a fantastic campfire story.”

The day is grey and gloomy as we head towards the hills. While we weave in and out of the shrubby forest, Ethan chatters on, recounting old fights and USI defenses.
“Yo, Maggie, remember that time when we raided that mall? Damn, that was amazing. Four of us and nineteen of them. Surrounded them with snipers and within minutes they’ve surrendered. Another bloodless victory from the USI. We got a good haul that day. And remember that time when—”

Somehow, Ethan has the wonderful ability to be able to hop from one story to another seamlessly; one is never sure if he’s telling the aftermath of a previous story, or the backstory of a new tale.

“—I mean, I bet puberty is gonna hit Casper like truck. That baby pudge will fill out into like a sick six pack and he’ll be the USI's most wanted, with that delicate pale skin, and gloriously dark hair—”

“Ethan, please, we’re getting close. Man, I don’t even think you need to bring a gun on these missions. Talk long enough and your opponent will shoot themselves.”

Ethan snorts, but finally goes silent.

As Ethan and I approach the area, we slow down and begin to take in our surroundings. “Two groups,” says Ethan. “But who. Will. Come. Out. On. Top.”

“Actually, make that three groups,” I say. I point ahead of us, where a figure is sitting, hidden among the branches of a tree.

“Jeez,” whispers Ethan. “It’s like a regular pow-wow up in here.”

It’s hard to tell how old the guy hiding near us is, but he can’t be too old. Mid-twenties, I’d say. The man is watching the proceedings, just as we intended to.

Crap,” mouths Ethan as we crouch behind a rock. “Should we ambush him?

I shake my head “no”. Not yet. I want to see what’ll happen next.
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Rydia says...



Liam Finch

There was something wrong, something off about the young man standing across from them. Maybe it was the way he mumbled before he called out, or maybe it was all those tattoos crawling up and down his skin. Tatan was never having any of those.

“Whatchu want, brothers?”

Whatever it was that had Finch's neck hairs standing on end, the unease was cemented when the kid flashed a set of gold teeth at them, his finger on the trigger of his gun.

Which of course had Jones pointing two guns at the young man, one of them Finch's Knight's Armament SR-15 and the other a submachine gun that was made to look almost delicate in Jones' beefy hand.

Finch gave an irritated shake of his head and pushed the air with his hands. "We've got a settlement and we provide a safe place for young people like you. I've got children myself, a boy and a girl. It's a place to build a future, it's-"

Finch heard the bullet and felt it bite into his leg, not seeing it once as his eyes dropped away from the young man and he registered that there was at least one person hiding in the shrubs. The leg buckled and gave away beneath him and he heard Jones drop to the ground as more bullets passed overhead, only missing his important parts because the first had laid him low.

"How are you even still alive?" Jones hissed as the Knight's Armament was shoved hard against his chest and his gut twisted insight out. The pain in his leg was a quick burning and he knew it was going to kill to run on that.

"Jus' my leg," Finch mumbled with a hitched laugh at the end, verging on the edge of hysteria. He'd managed to live this long because in the past he'd listened to feelings of unease and pulled the trigger before they could pull on him. Somehow being part of an organisation that said all the right things but did everything wrong had scraped away at that cold exterior and he'd wanted more and more to leave that man behind. It was like seeing how little humanity remained in people who claimed to be good had made him want to cling to whatever scraps he had left. But Jones was right. Men like that weren't around because they couldn't survive.

Finch pulled the flap of the medi bag open and snatched up the flare gun as his other hand closed around his Knight's Armament. There was no telling if there was another pair of scouts near enough but Finch fired the first flare into the sky, quickly averting his eyes as it exploded in a flash of light and he sent the other in the direction of the young man and his pal before tossing the spent gun aside.

Maybe he'd get lucky and blind one of them. Or maybe they'd be scared off by the thought of help coming. Maybe but probably not.

A sound like thunder ripped through the air as Jones pummeled the shrubs with bullets and then a man so large Finch couldn't understand how he could have hidden, lumbered from the undergrowth and came straight for them, his eyes dilated and half closed. He took one of Jones' bullets in the shoulder and kept on coming until the two men were wrestling, their big arms latched around one another and the guns almost forgotten between their bulging flesh.

Finch pulled himself behind a shrub and rested his gun on top, trying to take aim at the big guy but the two men danced around so much it was impossible to get off a clear shot.

There was a much scrawnier guy, more his size, who was whooping and calling from the shrubs and seemed to be more intent on cheering his buddy on then taking part. Finch could see that the lead young man was hankering for Jones and even as his eyes took in the only female of the group, one of her bullets and one of his planted themselves in the big guy. His big guy.

Finch had taken all of this in while lining up his shot and then he put a bullet clear through the scrawny man's heart. Or where his heart had been a moment before he sprang into the air, pumping his fist. The bullet cut lower instead and Finch couldn't tell if he'd hit anything vital and Jones' roars of furious pain cut out any other sounds.

Come on big guy, hang in there. I've got kids.
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Deskro says...



Troy Masters

While Troy appeared confident, it was a far cry from the truth. He knew how fast fights could turn out here, even if it seemed one sided. People did not and could not survive out here on luck alone.

‘Brick#2’ raised an SR-15 and an SMG at Troy’s chest. However, the old man stood in, shaking his head.

“We’ve got a settlement and we provide a safe place for young people like you. I’ve got children myself, a boy and a girl. It’s a place to build a future, it’s –”

“I’ve got no time for sob stories,” whispered Dubs to Biz.

She aimed her sawed-off shotgun at the man and pulled the trigger, despite being so far away. The buckshot spread far and wide missing its mark. Except one, which bit into the man’s thigh. He keeled over as she blasted the second barrel in his direction. She ducked down and began reloading.

Troy was fuming. Double-J had disobeyed his orders, but now was not the time to punish her. Troy looked up just in time to see the man shoot a flare into the sky and another one at him. He dived out of the way, dodging the flare by an inch. Rag was not so lucky, catching the projectile in his chest as it exploded in the Fallen Kings’ faces, blinding them with its intense light.

Troy opened his mouth to tell his crew to fall back. The fight was going to be ugly and no matter how many supplies were in the man’s med-kit, it would not be a worthy pay-out. But it was too late. As Brick#2 unloaded bullets into the shrubbery the real Brick burst out of the brush, charging full bore at his doppelgänger while his Spas-12 lay forgotten in the dirt. A bullet caught him in the shoulder but once Brick was in a rage, nothing less than death could stop him.

“Go get him, boy!” hollered Rag in his thick southern accent.
Troy needed to save Brick, watching them brawl as if it were a wrestling match. Double J had the same idea. He swung his AK to his back and pulled out his Magnum. A big man needed a big bullet. Double J whipped out her Glock and squinted down the iron-sights.

Troy’s hand-cannon bounced against his palm as a bullet ripped out of its barrel, in tandem with Double J’s barrage.

Troy had never missed a shot with his S&W .500. The bullets were far too valuable to be used randomly. As expected, the 12mm bullet sank into the man’s gut while Double J’s landed in his leg. Brick took the opportunity to uppercut him and shoulder charge him to the ground. As dumb as he was, you would never have guessed it in a melee. Troy’s satisfaction was cut short by the sound of the SR-15. He turned and saw Rag’s stomach bleeding. He grabbed Double-J and pulled her to the ground, no-one was safe when Rag was injured.

He screamed, not in pain, but in a fury and charged in the direction the bullet had come from. Troy watched in horror as the old man fumbled to reload his weapon. No-one deserved to die at Rag’s hands. Rag dived on the man, knocking his gun out of his reach and sunk his rotting teeth into the man’s forearm. He cried out in pain, as bits of broken tooth fell away from the gash. Troy was speechless, as was Double J.
Another gun shot and Rag fell on top of the man.

Troy turned around. Biz stood with Brick’s Spas-12’s barrels smoking.

“Yo let’s ditch this joint, homes. We done!” He turned and began running, Double J hot on his heels.

Troy looked at Brick pummelling Brick#2’s face into the dirt. “Brick! Get out of there man!”

Brick’s head flicked to the side as a bullet lodged itself in his thick skull, splattering blood. He roared in pain but continued to bash at his enemy’s face.

“Shit,” said Troy as a volley of bullets landed in the dirt, kicking up dust. They were not alone. He turned as another bullet hit its mark. Ducking and weaving he ran to catch up to Biz and Double J. Brick’s howls faded into the distance and Troy felt hot tears sting at his eyes.

The trio ran in silence for a good ten minutes before they collapsed behind a huge rock.

"Where Brick at?" asked Biz.

Troy's voice cracked. "Shit man, he got iced up."

"NO!" screamed Double J as she collapsed into Troy's arms, sobbing.

"God damn!" Biz's eyes were shining.

"We screwed up, bro."

"Yeah, no shit," said Biz, wiping his eyes. "Damn. Let's get back to camp. We gotta regroup." He stood up and began walking off.

Troy knew Biz was right. He picked up Double J and stumbled along after his friend. At least they weren't too far from camp now.





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Mon Sep 21, 2015 9:53 pm
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Poopsie says...



Alex

Alex nailed the big bulky guy twice in the head. He watched as the man took two steps forward, dropping the equally large peacekeeper, and fell to the ground. Dead. Alex glanced at the peacekeeper, most likely dead too, then looked over at the fleeing bandit gang. He made a snap decision, he would pursue the bandits. He needed the supplies as well as knowledge, knowledge on where their territories were, if there were other groups like them, and most importantly, if they planned to attack again.

Silently, Alex reloaded his gun, swung the leather strap attached to it around his shoulder, and slipped down from the tree. He looked from the big peacekeeper to the skinny delirious one and felt a twist of sympathy. Reaching in his bag, Alex pulled out a med kit and gauze bandages. He walked over to the delirious peacekeeper on the ground and dropped the med kit and the bandages in front of him.

"Help your friend."

Then Alex turned and walked to the top of the hill. Aiming down the scope of his ARX, he picked out three of the bandits making their way across the flat plains. A few miles ahead of them Alex could make out a few tents in a circle and a smoking fire pit. Out of range. He knew if he went straight after the gang he wouldn't get their first. Despite their obvious weariness, they had a big enough head start. Alex scanned the area and spotted a shortcut. A hillside curving around towards the camp, but not quite reaching it. He didn't have to get to the camp first, he just had to be in range and unnoticed.

Alex set off, dashing across the hilltop at a full sprint. He'd done tracking before, he was getting pretty good at it. The trick was not to be seen and to know the signs. Anyone could follow a person, but it took someone practiced at tracking to know when the target turned to read an arbitrary sign, he'd spotted you. This however, was a special case. In this case Alex was to far away to be seen or considered a threat. He wouldn't have to sneak around the camp, he'd just have to get in range and not be seen.

Alex reached the end of the hillside. Crouching behind a rock, Alex set up his gun and aimed down the scope. Once in range, the long range burst gun would be dangerously effective, all he had to do was wait for the gangsters to reach their camp. If they were any other group of people, Alex would probably have let them go, but these were bandits. Merciless animals that would kill anything that walked as long as they had valuables. In the times before the shootings had intensified, Alex had watched bandits like the ones he watched now gun down whole families and raid their houses in search of food and ammo. He would make no exception for these monsters, they would all die today.
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Mon Sep 21, 2015 10:20 pm
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Steggy says...



Tesa Marshall

"Why do you walk so slow?"

"Because this gun is so heavy, Hanry." I started, dropping the rifle on the ground. "You don't seem to realize this because you are more stronger than I, whereas I am more tiny. Get that into your thick skull, besides fighting and whatnot."

Hanry narrowed his blue eyes, turning brown within a minute.

"Don't give me hassle, Tesa. You know what had happened to Robbin?"

I shivered. Robbin- my half Earth brother- was sent out into the war since he too had bad grades in school and didn't seem to remember the proper lessons in trying to shot, so while he was practicing on some dummies- he hadn't even begin to stare down the hole of the rifle when he accidently shot the instructor. In the back of the head. Dead center. Everyone at the shoot course was staring at Robbin, unsure about the situation and quite clearly scared.
Robbin blinked before being seized by the arms of the local guards and thrown into a cement cell- without any warning whatsoever. A few months back, when I had just turned 12, Robbin was sentenced to beheading and I clearly remember the scene as I saw my half Earth brother's head rolled of the slate and into the basket- that was soon fed to the local prison dogs.

For being a 12 year old, and seeing such a sight- it had paved way for a fear of a war that I would soon battle in. And Hanry was wrong for bringing up.

"Can we just get this over?" I muttered, picking up the rifle and climbing in a nearby tree. Hanry chuckled soon following before me as I felt the twigs poke in my side- Hanry had told me once, that in no matter situation, the place you hide doesn't matter. As long as the enemy doesn't see you and you have the clear shoot. So for all I know, we could be in a poisonous June Tree.

"Okay, look down the barrel. Do you see your target?" I nodded, lifting the rifle to my shoulder. Hanry squinted where there was an opening and then lifted an arm to signal for me to shoot.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a group and my eye was stuck on them- actually it was just two people if you looked through the scope. They hobbled along the desert valley, like lost souls traveling on a forever memory. Suddenly a shoot coming from the left of me cut through the air, spooking the two people on the ground into a fit of hightailing out of there.
Hangry leaned back from the scope with a confused smirk on his face.

"Looks like someone started the fun already!" He said sternly, as he climbed down.
"Does that mean we are done?"

Hangry gave a big laugh as he reached the buttom.

"We are far from done, Tessie. This is only the beginning."
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Mon Sep 21, 2015 11:39 pm
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jumpingsheep says...



Maggie Johnson

The fight was over faster than we could process it. The bandits fled. The Peacekeepers were down for the count. Our friend in the trees ran to help.

The flare was probably the worst of it—I’ve never seen a flash that bright, or heard something quite that loud before. Ethan nearly panicked and ran when the flare went off; it was I who held onto his vest to keep him hidden.

When we emerged minutes later, we both gaped at the carnage. “Damn,” whispered Ethan. “This is bad. We should leave.”

And leave we did.

We’re walking back now, back to the school. I wanted to follow the bandits back to their camp, but not today. If we raid them, we’ll need a lot more than just two of us, even if some of the bandits are hurt.

When we return to the school, it’s nearly dark. Crickets chirp steadily in the cool evening air and a lone owl offers a few soft hoots to the nighttime ambiance. The school is dark, a good sign. I had instructed Clara and Casper to go into blackout mode tonight, taking into consideration all the action we had seen earlier in the day.

Clara is waiting for us in the foyer when we enter the school. “I had Casper hold the alarm when our lookouts saw you guys returning. He’s turning it back on now.”

I nod. “Good.”

“Did you see anything interesting?”

I shrug, too tired from our trek to really contribute anything. “Peacekeeper and gang spat. Made interesting by a lone wolf third party. All three groups scattered at the end, although the wolf followed what was left of the gang.”

Casper runs into the foyer. “What was left of the gang?! Did the Peacekeepers win?!”

“Not exactly,” I say. “Both sides took losses.”

Casper and Ethan break into a frantic chatter over how their outstanding bet was going to be handled.

Clara motions for me to follow her. “Some of the kids are watching a movie in the auditorium. I thought it would be alright since there’s no windows in there. The younger ones really hate blackout nights.”

“Understandably.”

I’ve been trying to get more blackout curtains for other rooms in the school. With the right curtains, we can leave lights on without a problem. Unfortunately, the only rooms we currently have curtains for is the upstairs hallways and the office. The rest of the school has to sit in darkness.

I switch on my flashlight and follow Clara down to the auditorium. “Blackout nights really make me realize how lucky we are,” she says. “Imagine if we had no power… we wouldn’t only not have lights, but, like, a whole bunch of other stuff, too.”

I wave my hand towards the roof. “Solar panels, amiright?”

“Yup. Literally those and the greenhouses are the only reasons we’ve been able to stay here as long as we have,” responds Clara as we enter the auditorium, where The Bee Movie is playing on a grainy projector. Kids are spread out around the room, lounging in sleeping bags and blankets. Most of them will probably stay the night here, since their dorm rooms won’t have any lights.

They can shoot down bandits, but they’re afraid of the dark, I think.

Which isn’t really true, most of our fights end up being bloodless, but these kids would shoot anyone down without question, if I told them too.

It scares me.

Because Kyle realized the same thing.

Huh. Kyle.

I haven’t spoken of him in a long time, and yet, he’s still with us. Sometimes, I feel a premonition, that he could be even closer than we think.

Kyle knew the kids could be manipulated.

Which is why he had to go.
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Rydia says...



Liam Finch

The flash of the gun was bright and the combination of that and the teeth sunk into his arm sent Finch into a haze of memory. He remembered laying flat on the operating table, the piercing lights overhead and only his wife's voice holding him conscious. Emily. Then Finch blinked and the memory was gone and he'd cheated death again; the mad man on top of him stiff but unmoving against his chest. The blood had soaked both their clothes and Finch knew he'd be disgusted when he was finished feeling dazed.

His attackers were retreating, leaving their dead behind.

Had the bullet been meant for him or was it a mercy for their crazed friend? As Finch pushed his body aside, more of his guts fell out and it was easy to see that he would have died some kind of slow and awful death without expert medical attention. Good. Or maybe bad - he'd done that. He wasn't even keeping his kills clean, though technically he hadn't killed the man, but the death was on him.

Literally.

Finch gave a small, wrangled cry, half a sob as he flailed away from the dead man and he yelped again when his leg sent spikes of pain shooting up his nervous system.

"Help your friend."

The other shooter. Finch's eyes focused on him for a moment and then the med kit on the floor beside him, which he didn't really need since he had his own. Which he didn't really need since Jones was-

"He's dead." Saying it out loud brought the world back to him or him back to the world and Finch slowly sat up and looked around. His attackers were out of sight now, except the two corpses, and whoever the shooter was, he didn't stick around to give a name.

"I'm sorry," he said as he walked to the top of the hill and then dashed down it and out of sight.

Finch crawled slowly across to Jones on his hands and knees. The pain in his arm subsided but his leg throbbed with a dull urgency.

There wasn't anything that could be done for the big guy. There was no dragging him back to camp, though the peacekeepers might come for him later. Burying their dead was the kind of civilised thing they did to convince themselves that they were different from people like Them. For now all Finch could do was close his eyes and roll the other big guy off him some, then he hobbled to his feet and started the agonising journey back to the sanctuary. He followed Emily's voice, the whispers in his head reminding him that his children were waiting for their daddy to come home. Their children, the alien and his.

Even after finding out what she was, thinking of Emily as anything other than the love of his life had been impossible. She was all warm hazel eyes and honey coloured hair; a smell like pine and wildflowers. Finch felt the same way about their kids - there wasn't anything alien about them, not to him.

Tyler was on point at the wall and he didn't exactly rush to help Finch in but looked around warily a lot until he'd hobbled all the way to the large gate and collapsed against it. Only then did Tyler open it up and pull him in and by then a small crowd was gathering, their guns trained uncertainly on the clearing around them.

The settlement was hidden deep into the woods - it used to be a small town but half the buildings had been torn down and re-purposed as the wall and guard towers to peer over the top.

"Where's Jones?"

"We got attacked. Five against two. I sent up a flare, but..." Finch didn't know why he left out the other shooter but he couldn't help thinking how it was strange that someone not wearing peacekeeper colours had helped them out. He had to answer the same questions a lot between the front gate and the medical room. Questions like where and who and how did it happen and eventually he stopped answering anything at all and instead kept repeating the same phrase, the only thing he knew with any certainty:

"I need to see my kids. I need to see my kids. Where are they? I need to see my kids."

"We're here, dad." The voice seemed quiet and far away as Finch turned his head on the pillow and reached out in the dark. Somehow night had fallen and the medical room was lit only by the fireplace, the warm glow highlighting the concerned face of Maggie, their resident nurse, and his two beautiful children.
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Deskro says...



Troy Masters

Troy could feel the acid building up in his quads. Double J was a fairly small, even for a girl, but the fight and escape had left him feeling exhausted. He stumbled in the dirt.

“Come on, man,” said Biz. “We ain’t safe out here. Get to that camp ASAP.”

Troy gritted his teeth and readjusted Double J on his back. She snorted abruptly but returned to her rhythmic, shallow breathing. Troy shifted his focus to the camp in an attempt to ignore the burning in his legs. He wasn’t sure about the camp though. He knew they couldn’t trust anyone these days, but it wasn’t like they had any other choice.

It didn’t help that the sun had begun to set. As tough as the Fallen Kings were, it was still a death sentence to be travelling during the night. Troy and Biz picked up the pace as they moved westward, squinting through the bright sunlight.

They entered the encampment as night fell. The sight made Troy feel a strange mix of both nausea and relief.

The camp was empty.

While they didn’t have to deal with any potentially hostile inhabitants, some extra protection was always welcomed. Other people were a double-edged sword: you can’t live with them but you can’t live without them.

Troy entered one of the tents and placed Double J on some rough blankets. She snuggled into them and curled up. He then walked out and met Biz.

“This place was ditched way back,” said Biz.

Troy picked up some of the cold ash that was sitting in the abandoned fire pit. He crushed it in his palm and watched it blow away in the breeze.

“Search the tents,” said Troy. “It looks like they left quick, so they probably left a ton of stuff.”

Troy pulled open one of the tent’s flaps open. The charred material fell apart in his hands. He dropped it and went inside. He turned on the flashlight on his AK which revealed the blackened interior. These tents had definitely been set on fire. There was not much inside that hadn’t been burned, so he left it and went back to the tent Double J was resting in.

Biz had better luck, entering the tent with some ammunition and some cans. Double J awoke with a start.

“Where we at?”

“Just in a old camp. Ain’t no one here but us.”

Double J gripped her shotgun. Troy could tell she was uncomfortable, but she would never admit it. He walked outside and began digging a hole.

“Up to homeboy?” Biz asked.

“We should have done this earlier,” replied Troy.

Biz watched Troy light the nearby fire pit. He then walked over and grabbed Brick’s spas-12 off Biz and emptied the barrels. He threw the gun into the fire, stood up and saluted.

“Ahh…” said Biz. He stood next to Troy and saluted too, as did Double J.

“We salute our two homies, that sacrificed they lives for us. They had our backs always and in death, we know they be watchin’ over us too. It’s only a matter of time, my brothers, before we meet you on the otherside. Loyal to the Kings. Amigos. Familia. R.I.P.”

They pulled “K” before Double J broke down again, crying into Biz’s shoulder. He patted her on the back as he looked solemnly at the shotgun burning in the fire, the flames danced in his eyes. Troy knew they couldn’t dwell on the past with what the world was like now. They would have to leave in the early morning. He grabbed Double J from Biz and walked her to the tent.

“I’ma come sleep soon, but I wanna put out this fire,” said Biz.

“Algood, bruh. Just wake me up when you wanna kick it.”

“Will do, lil’ homie.”

Troy looked back at Biz, as he helped Double J into the tent. He inhaled deeply and entered the tent afterwards. He hoped Biz wasn’t planning something.





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Sun Oct 11, 2015 12:20 pm
Rydia says...



Liam Finch

Finch opened his eyes and the room was reassuringly dark but when he turned his head on the pillow, his wife wasn't there. Finch blinked and the world rushed back to him in time for his second rude awakening of the day: Maggie and his kids were absent too.

But Finch wasn't alone in the room.

Sitting upright in a padded chair, the founder of the peacemakers held a small medi pack on his lap. He was a short man but very straight, even sitting down he gave off an aura of stiffness strong enough to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

"How's the arm?" The founder asked.

"Smarts a little," Finch admitted, though his leg was definitely the real concern. It had flared up while his mind tried to unscramble itself from the blanket of sleep and now it felt like he was sharing the bed with a rabid inferno. With his attention drawn to his arm though, he realised he wasn't wearing a shirt and was both grateful and guarded at having been relieved of the blood stained garment.

"I found this in your bag." The founder lifted the medi pack and slid it into place on the bookshelf they used for storing much of their medical equipment. "Where did you get it?"

"There was a shooter." Finch saw no point in lying now and telling anything but the truth to the founder was a bad idea.

"You told Tyler it was five on two."

Finch didn't dispute the statement but instead waited to be told the inevitable.

"You'll be staying inside from now on. I've assigned you to the builders once Maggie is happy to discharge you."

Finch nodded. It could have been worse. He could have been assigned to the kitchens or the engineering; detained in a single building except for meals and rest. At least with the builders he'd have a reason to scout the perimeter of the settlement. He realised now it was going to be harder than ever to leave but he also realised that was what he had to do. No more waiting for things to get better when they were only getting worse.

"Thank you."

The founder nodded and got up to leave but turned at the door to offer Finch a stiff smile. "Its easy for people like Tyler and Jones to go out there and do what they do - they're built for it. Men like you and I are different. I should have seen that before. I'm sorry."

Finch blinked in surprise and then he was gone and he was left alone in the dark again.

Some time later Maggie came to take his temperature and change the bandages on his leg. She brought food with her and Finch set upon it ravenously as the early morning light filtered through the window.

The kids came by later and Tatan waited until his daughter was playing with her doll in the corner and Maggie had gone out for a walk before driving another nail through the peace:

"Dad, she did something today, a bit of her hair went brown like yours. I don't think she noticed, she was asking when you'd be back and it changed!"

It wasn't like Tat to sound frightened or to talk so much and the pain in Finch's leg was barreled aside as he reached out for his son's arm to pull him close.

"Is it still-"

"No. I clipped it under the rest of her hair and when they told us you were back it changed."

Finch dropped back against the pillows in relief and forced a smile for his daughter as she paused in her play and looked over at them. "We're getting out of here," Finch promised. "We're going to get to that school."
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